%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Ultimatum"  Every possible decision feels fraught with peril. This shouldn't be your decision to make, because it's Gordon who will have to eventually live with the consequences. He should be the one making the call. But he's contracted out his life to you, same as you've contracted yours to him. In some ways, you'd said, you'd be better at living his life, and he'd be better at living his, than at running your own lives. So you've no one to blame but yourself for being here. You're here because you thought you'd see things more clearly than he could. And that's what gives you the confidence and serenity to make the call now. "I'll be out of here by Friday." A vein throbs in your dad's temple. "Your room will be empty by tomorrow at seven o'clock," he says in a cold, dead voice. "Anything still in it at eight will go to the dump." "Then I'll be out of here tonight." You return to the house, feeling his eyes on your back. At the front door you gesture to Steve as you take out your phone. "My dad's kicking me out," you tell him quietly when he's trotted up. "Can you help me get my stuff out of my room? I'm calling Lynch so we can use his truck." "No problem. Where are you going to go?" His manner is grave, though he doesn't seem surprised. "Do what I usually do, crash up in the gym loft." "We have a room over the garage at my place." "The loft is free. But I might ask you and Jason to carry me a little as far as food goes, until I can find a part-time job someplace." "No problem," Patterson repeats. "But think about the room at my place. The loft isn't good for living in." "I'll get out of your way when you need it overnight. Spend it with Lynch." Patterson's smile is cool but genuine. "That's not what I meant, but thanks for thinking of me." * * * * * Lynch arrives twenty minutes later, and the three of you get the bed disassembled and packed in the back of his truck. Next to it, without bothering to pack a box, you drop the armful of old books that Gordon has, and a couple of garbage sacks packed with all the clothes from the dresser and closet. Anything loose or sentimental -- and you know what counts as sentimental, like the trophies and posters and an old toy fire truck -- you take along. You leave behind only such furniture as a desk and bookcase and dresser: stuff that takes up room and can be replaced later on. You don't bother to tell your father goodbye, but follow Lynch and Patterson as the three-vehicle procession makes its way to Steve's place. That's where you've decided to put the bulky stuff -- the bed and the books and some other odds and ends, for you relented when Steve insisted that the studio apartment over the garage could at least hold those things. He also invites you and Jason to dinner, which you're happy to accept, and it's a pleasant but subdued meal. You're especially pleased that Patterson and Lynch -- who don't like much like each other -- are more than polite to each other. Steve's father, who like his son is tall and rangy and has pale gray eyes, accepts without comment your explanation that you've had to move out of your parents' house, and when he asks if you can support yourself you truthfully tell him that you need a job. "I can help you there," he says, and tells you that the supermarket where he is a manager has a need for a stock boy. "It's only part-time work," he says. "But you do have school and practice, so you probably don't need or want more than that." You ponder this implied offer for about three seconds, then ask where you should go to fill out an application. "Have dinner with us tomorrow," he says, "and I'll have it with me." You thank him. Then, after playing some ball with your friends in his driveway, you part with them and drive out with Lynch to Westside, where you haul your clothes other daily necessities up into the loft. "Pretty fair bachelor quarters," Lynch observes cheerfully. "Not bad, but if I'm gonna be living here -- " You make a face and kick at the old gym mat. "I gotta clean and reorganize this place." "Really?" "It's not a bad hang out, but it's gonna stink if I'm living up here all the time. I should put Chelsea to work on fixing it up." "Not Chelsea," Lynch cries in mock horror. "She'll put up curtains everywhere, cover ever'thing with chintz!" "I'd kind of like that," you say, and you're only half joking. "Like, we could put an easy chair over there, with a little side table and a lamp -- " "Are you serious?" "No. Well, a little." Actually, the idea of changing it from a faux-frat flophouse to a studio apartment sounds kind of neat. "I need to talk to her anyway. And if I'm gonna be living up here, she's definitely going to want to do something about it." "Well, lemme know when you're done," Lynch grumbles, "so I can bring a housewarming present." "I'm gonna call her pretty quick," you say. "I better talk to her alone, since this is a pretty big deal. Thanks for everything, though." You pull him into a brief, manly bro-hug. "See you around tomorrow." You close and lock the door after he's gone. But you don't call Chelsea. You wait until you see Lynch's truck pull away from the school, and then call Will Prescott's number. He agrees to meet you at the old elementary school in twenty minutes. * * * * * You dreaded the meeting with Gordon, but it goes off much better than you'd feared. Gordon, you know, has thought in the past about moving out his parents' house, but has never dared act on it; but you were deeply worried that he'd be incandescent with fury to find that you'd done it on your own. He takes your announcement gravely but calmly, though, and remains very quiet when you explain the circumstances leading up to it. "I thought I'd changed things with your dad," you tell him. "He wanted to change things back. I didn't think you'd want that." He leans back against a table, gripping its edge and staring at the floor. "No, that makes sense," he says at last. "It all makes sense. I could never work up the nerve to make a break of things. It's still scary now that it's happened. But I'm glad it's over, and -- " He twists nervously: a tic that you recognize as one of your own. "You're going to be living it. Setting up the new job, all the rest." "Yeah, I'll take care of that." His mouth works, and your nerves twist up, because it looks like he's trying not to yell at you. But when he does speak, the shock is in the opposite direction. "I -- Uh, I kind of did the same thing to you." He swallows. "I should have talked to you about it first, but I didn't. I also got a job. That job your dad's been trying to get you to take at his work." This is a blow to the stomach. That job at Salopek you've been trying to dodge? For a moment you are very angry, but instantly cool when you realize what he's done to your life is nothing compared to what you've just done to his. "Why'd you decide to do that?" "I thought it was a good idea. The money is good, the experience is good." He pauses. "The days are kind of dead after school." You yourself would rather have the free time, but you can see why Gordon would feel a little lost. "Well, that's cool then. You'll have to tell me how it goes. When do you start?" "Day after tomorrow." "Do you want to switch back until then? That way you can get things set up in the loft and with Steve the way you want?" He rubs his arm. "I don't think so." He sighs deeply, and leans back to raise his face toward the ceiling. His eyes are closed. "I like your life, Prescott," he says softly. "I like not having the stress. That's kind of why I want that job. It keeps things from being too boring." "It was kind of boring, I know." "What do you think of my life?" He keeps his eyes closed, but his face tightens. "It's got its perks." He smiles. "Yeah?" "Definitely. And I don't just mean, uh, Chelsea." Now you have to pause, for it's a screwball confession you're about to make. "I like Steve and Jason. Well, Jason's a little annoying. But they're really good guys, really solid." "I think so." "You know what I've always thought of them." He opens his eyes now, but looks off in the distance, not at you. "Yeah, I know. I get it, it makes sense." He shifts. "I know what you thought of me." You think you understand Gordon a lot better now. And although you weren't wrong to hate and fear him, you also know that your impression of him was based on a very incomplete knowledge of him. "I like Steve and Jason now, but I like you a lot better," you say. "I get why you're doing this stuff with me and Caleb. I thought it was weird and crazy and scary at first. I didn't think we could trust you, and I don't think Caleb will ever trust you. Not unless he gets to spend a week being you. But I'd trust you with my life now. I mean, I guess I already am." You kick playfully at his foot. "But I can't imagine Steve or Jason being nearly as cool with me as you are." "No," he says. "I can't picture it either. But I miss them. Hell." He rubs an eye. "I think I miss them more than Chelsea." Next: "Aftershocks" |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
