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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Moving In and Moving Forward"  "Lynch, huh? You mention that idea to Gordon?" You're sitting on the edge of your rented bed, surrounded by the boxes of crap that you brought over from the loft. It feels strange in lots of ways to be here: Moving in with Caleb with Gordon Black's stuff, and inside Gordon Black's body. There flashes through your head a brief vision of Chelsea sharing the space with you, and deep in your viscera a little grunt erupts like a burp. "What?" you say. Caleb -- who is leaning against a warped dresser -- leans forward to wave his hand in front of your face. "Hey, don't space out on me. Basically, I said that I'm not gonna propose anything to Gordon without running it by you first." "That's nice, man, but since when do you clear things with me first?" His lips compress into an exasperated grimace. Then it hits you why he'd run idea past you first. "Oh. Yeah." You scratch the back of your neck. "Well, I dunno what he'd say. He's always borrowing stuff off Lynch and not paying it back, but this is taking it to a whole other level." "Do you have any ideas? This Sean Mitchell guy -- " "We're not doing that," you say firmly. "It's too risky." Caleb rolls his eyes. "Then I guess we'll steal it from Lynch." "No, wait a minute." You snap your fingers. "We really will just borrow it from Lynch. Here, we'll use Lynch's face and ATM card to get the money from his account, but we'll save up from Gordon's paycheck and deposit it all back again in a few weeks. That way Lynch isn't out any money in the long run, but we still get the money we need and we get it fast. How much do we need?" "A couple of hundred. But is Gordon going to be okay with stealing Lynch's face?" "Only thing to do is ask." * * * * * You call Gordon at your place and meet him at the elementary school. He's not enthusiastic about your idea, but he agrees it's safer than stealing anything out of Salopek, with or without a mask of this Sean Mitchell guy. He and Caleb will bring you the mask they made (and have thus far not used) for you to use on Lynch the next time you get. You wake early on Sunday morning and go for a run, then shower. Gordon's long-drilled instinct for tidiness serves you well at the Johansson household, for you quickly clean up after yourself in the bathroom, the kitchen, and everywhere else you go. Then at ten o'clock you're at the supermarket for a day's work. It's not aerobic work, or athletic work, and it's not weight training, but you reflect that it does keep you active and goes a little ways toward maintaining your stamina, which is more than could be said about lounging around in the loft as Gordon does most Sundays with his friends. Steve shows up just before quitting time, and he and his dad invite you over to their place for pizza, and you accept. You get in a little court time with Steve in their darkened driveway, and scarf down most of a bacon-and-peppers-and-pineapple pizza all by yourself. You watch some TV with them. By nine-thirty, though, you tell them that you have to go. "You got a curfew at your new place?" Patterson scoffs. "No, but I don't wanna bust in after the lights are out. I like it there, and I don't wanna cause friction." "You didn't wanna cause friction when you were living with your dad. And you'd have more fun here with me." "Don't push me, Steve. I'd feel bad about rooming with you." "It wouldn't be a big deal." "I know, but it'd feel that way anyway. I like it over where I am, and I'm not gonna see any less of you." "Except on weekends," he says stonily. "I can't help that. Just don't kill Lynch. You didn't, did you? What did you do with him today?" "Nothing. I didn't go up there, and he didn't talk to me. We're gonna stop using that place, aren't we?" he adds grumpily. "We're not gonna -- Shit, I forgot to call Chelsea." You take out your cell. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Tomorrow, right?" "If you're gonna be at school." You clap and clasp hands, and he returns to his house. You get in the Bug and call your girlfriend. You have to exhale and shift in your seat to accommodate the erection at the realization: Chelsea Cooper is your girlfriend. * * * * * And she's starting to act like her old self. "I didn't hear from you today," she says plaintively. "I was at work from ten o'clock, and they're not gonna like it if I take out my phone while I'm at work. It's not like I'm at school and can just pull it out." "Don't they give you any breaks?" "Well, yeah, but -- " "And did you just get off? Just now?" You get that tense feeling in your chest that Gordon always gets when he's about to have a bad fight with Chelsea. "Steve's dad, at quitting time, he asked me home to eat with them. So I did, I was with him and his family all evening." "Oh." That's all she says. Oh. But it might as well be a 25,000-word Wikipedia article on the subject of "Black, Gordon; faults and derelictions regarding his girlfriend." "I can see you tomorrow. In fact, I can pick you up. Where I'm living now, I'm closer to you than I was before." "That'd be nice," she says coolly. "The usual time?" You grunt an affirmative. "Yeah, I'd like that. I want to see and hold and squeeze my pookie bear." You let out your breath as you hang up, not out of desire, but out of relief at dodging a quarrel. * * * * * But you tense again when you pull up at the Johansson house. It's not on account of it being nearly ten o'clock that you feel tight bands around your chest, for despite what you implied to Patterson, you don't really have anything resembling a curfew with your friend's mom. She herself is rarely in bed before eleven-thirty, and she told you point blank that she wouldn't mind you coming in after hours. But you'd diplomatically replied that if you ever got back and saw the lights were out, you knew of a place you could crash so that you didn't bother anyone by returning. No, you're suddenly nervous again because Will Prescott's truck is parked in front of the house. You hadn't got a text from your friends, so this feels like an ambush. And they might be in a bad mood if they've been expecting you to show up since seven. Mrs. Johansson greets you from the living room and genially inquires about your day. You sit on the edge of the chair across from her and tell her it was nice; and you ask her about yours. For five minutes you chat in this very dainty way, like a couple of old ladies, when from down the hall a door bangs open and Caleb hops into the room. His eyes light up when he sees you. "Yo! Will!" he hollers. "Gordon's here!" "Don't yell," his mother chides him; he half-shrugs apologetically, and his mom casts you a half-embarrassed glance. Another figure comes springing down the hall: in cargo shorts, t-shirt, sneakers and a ball cap it's the straw-headed scarecrow called Will Prescott. It gives you kind of a bad turn to see him, even though this is about the dozenth time you've seen him since doing the switch with Gordon. But it's nearly the first where you've seen him with others around and the imposter has to pretend to be you. It tears at you with gnarled claws: the sense that your identity has been ripped from you, and that Gordon's mask is only a bandage to cover the wound. It doesn't help that Prescott's eyes twinkle brightly over his crooked grin. "Hey, there you are," he says. "Only, like, finally." He stumbles awkwardly on his feet and pitches sideways into Caleb, who shoves him back. "Oh. Have you been waiting for me?" "Whatever," he says, and his bony shoulders twitch. "I told Caleb he was full of -- uh -- crap -- when he said you'd moved in with him." "You wanna see my room?" His grin goes lopsided. "I seen it already. I just don't believe it." "I'll show it to you anyway. Good night, Mrs. Johansson." You're not sure, but you think you catch Prescott snorting out an asthmatic laugh and murmuring a sarcastic "Good night, Mrs. Johansson" under his breath. Your two friends precede you down the hall and into your bedroom, which you had unpacked and neatly made up the night before. "Lookit this," Prescott jeers as he picks up the old toy fire truck. "He has a fire engine." He drops it nervously when you shut the door. "I'm just jerking your chain, man," he says, and his eyes dart nervously. "Yeah." You lower yourself into the chair in the corner. "So what were you guys doing? I'm sorry I'm late." "Late for what?" asks Caleb. "We were just goofing around, playing games -- " "Sucking each other off." Will makes a slurping noise and grins at Caleb. "Oh God," you say. "Not really, were you?" "No! Jesus. What about you? You just back from Chelsea's?" "No, Steve's." Prescott laughs. "Were you sucking him off?" You can't help swallowing, and look at Caleb. "Is he okay?" "He's just being you, Will," Caleb says quietly. "Oh, and here's the mask." He opens the bottom drawer of the dresser, and takes it out. "We're still aiming for Lynch, if you're okay with that," he continues, and Will nods. "I s'pose the question now is, who puts it on to get the money out?" Next: "Mugging a Friend" |
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