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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Explosions, And the Lack Thereof"  "That would be kind of tricky," you tell Gordon. "Wouldn't it? Just to get inside dope on the football squad? I can ask him at work, if I can think of an excuse to." Gordon shrugs. "Whatever. What are we doing this weekend?" You and Caleb exchange a quick glance. "You've got work," you remind him. "And I got work too." "You just gotta work Saturday morning," Gordon says, "and we got that thing in the basement that can cover for me. Right, Johansson?" Caleb's eyes widen. "Uh, sure," he says. But he looks unhappy. "But we can't go out anyplace," you remind Gordon. "If you're supposed to be at work, you don't want anyone seeing you at the movies or anywhere. I mean, you do kind of stand out in a crowd." "We don't gotta go anywhere," Gordon says. "We wanna look at the next thing in the book, right?" Oh, so that's where he was heading. Again you glance at Caleb, and answer for him. "Sure, I guess." Gordon nods. "Tomorrow night I gotta do some Chelsea maintenance, but we'll meet up Saturday at the basement." He starts to leave, then asks you, "You gonna skip your bullshit third period class again tomorrow, come hang out with me and Lynch?" Your heart skips. "I can't skip every day. Besides, um—" You bite your lip, "Would him and Patterson be okay with me showing up there?" Gordon holds your eye. "You're not scared of 'em, are you, Prescott?" You can't think of an answer that Gordon would both respect and believe. So you totter over and mime punching him in the stomach. He grabs your face and throws you backward onto Caleb's bed. "Do whatever you want, man," he says, then disappears down the hallway toward his room. And instead of answering Caleb's inquisitive look, you mutter that you have to go. * * * * * You haven't talked anymore to your dad about your detention. He was preoccupied all during dinner, and gave no overt sign that he has any misery stored up for you. But he calls you into his study when he hears you come home. He tells you to shut the door, and sits against his desk with folded arms while addressing you. "Okay," he says, "I've thought about what you told me this afternoon, about your fight. I can't condone you brawling, but at the same time—" He scratches his nose. "From what you told me, this is a school disciplinary problem, not a problem with you that I need to worry about. What I mean is," he continues when you look puzzled, "you're not 'fighting,' you're just protecting yourself because the school won't act to stop these ... incidents." He gives a short, sharp sigh. "I'm not going to encourage you— I mean, I'm not going to tell you that you should, uh, protect yourself, or that I'm okay with what you've started doing. But I'm not going to punish you, either. Whether you keep up this ... strategy ... that's up to you." He makes a face. "Meaning, it's up to you to decide if you can put up with the pain you're going to be in for, and with whatever punishment the school dishes out." "So you're not going to ground me or anything?" "No." He sighs. "To be honest with you, Will, I do not see you starting fights. You never have before and ... Well, I can't really see you starting to do that now. So I'm just going to assume going forward that if you do get detention or even suspended for fighting, it's because the other guy started it and is completely to blame." "Thank you, sir." "Yeah, well, hold on. If you do get hurt, if you need taking to a dentist or urgent care or something like that, I'll be withholding your salary until you pay me back the expense of patching you back together. This is all on you." His smile turns a little sardonic. "I'm not adding to the price you're going to pay, but I'll be god damned before I start subsidizing your new boxing career!" * * * * * You are studying the wallet that you filched from Kirkham's pocket, and wondering why you did that, when Cassie texts to ask if your detention went off alright, and if you're okay in general, and if you've got weekend plans that maybe the two of you could coordinate with your friends. You're noncommittal, but she will keep shooting little emojis and silly asides (We had shortcake for dessert tonite yum!) until you tell her that you have homework and will be turning off your phone. It leaves you rather more ambivalent about her, and wishing that you could use the golem, or whatever it is that Caleb called it, this weekend to keep her distracted but happy while you do other stuff. As for the wallet, you stuff it into your desk under as much shit as you can cover it with. For there is no way you are going to give it back to Kirkham, even if it does contain his driver's license, student ID, and a credit card. Cassie is waiting for you the next morning, at the entrance to the breezeway that connects the student parking lot to the school proper, and chatters about this and that all the way to your locker. You let her rattle on with gossip about her friends, and are relieved of having to come back with answering small talk when one of her friends, Lotte Linde, joins you and keeps Cassie distracted until you can escape to first period. You collapse into your desk with a sigh. "Dude, what am I going to do about Cassie?" you ask Caleb. "I'm more interested," he says, "in what you're going to do with—" He glances around the room. "Your friend who wants you to hang out with him third period." You shoot him a waspish glance. "I already got Cassie to worry about," you retort. "I don't need you acting like a jealous girlfriend." He slouches, then takes out his phone. You're startled when, a minute later, you get a text on your phone from him. Me n gordon r fine, he says, I'm not jelus. So how come u talk jelus? you reply. He wants u hang out 3 prd n loft u gong say no? I got class. Bs class go c him. Cant skip ev day. Dont haf to just go c him tday. "Why, is there something up?" you whisper to Caleb. But he grimaces and resumes typing. His answer comes in just as Mr. Walberg is stepping up to his podium. S like asking girl to go on date f she say no u not ask again it all ovr w her. U say no next wk n it b ok w gordn but say y tday. It makes you wonder what he and Gordon talked about last night after you left, that Caleb is so full of wisdom about the care and feeding of your hulking friend. * * * * * "Prescott!" Gordon rumbles when you put your head into the loft after third period has started, and his face actually lights up. Lynch, who is sitting cross-legged with his back to the door, twists around to give you a much more equivocal grin. "Wanna beer?" Gordon continues, and reaches for the fridge. "Take the edge off the morning." "That's okay." You flop down with a sigh between him and Lynch. "I shouldn't be skipping anyway. I—" You catch yourself with a groan. "I forgot to go into the office this morning." Lynch snorts. "Why'dja wanna do something like that for?" "I'm s'posed to tell 'em when I'm gonna take my detention for that fight yesterday." "What? They lettin' you pick which days you get detention?" "On account of I got a job after school." Lynch looks at Gordon. "Must be nice, havin' th'a'ministration wound aroun' yer little finger!" "So yeah, I can pick my days." You think a minute. "Fuck me." "Wassa matter?" You grimace. "I guess I'll have the first one today." "This's Friday!" Lynch protests. "Fuck that!" "But Kirkham's gonna be in there too. He's having his detention yesterday and today. I missed yesterday 'cos my dad needed me out at work, and if I don't go in today, I'll look like a pussy, like I'm trying not to go in when Kirkham's there." Lynch stares at you, then looks at Gordon, then looks back at you. "Fuck," he says with surprising sympathy. "Yeah, I don't envy you there. That motherfucker—" "You don't gotta go in today," Gordon says. "No one'll think you're a pussy." "Kirkham will!" "He's gonna think that anyway." "He's gonna come after me 'cos he's gonna think I'm scared of him." "He's gonna come after you anyway. You can do whatever you want, man," Gordon says in a rumble, "'cos you're fucked either way. You can be fucked with a Friday detention, or fucked with a free afternoon." He takes a long pull from his beer. "I know which one I'd pick." You're about to accept his advice when you catch the look on Lynch's face. He's been civil, even a little friendly with you, a lot more than yesterday and a lot more than you'd have expected. But you can tell he's judging you. If you skip out on detention today, he will think you're a pussy, even if Gordon doesn't. Next: "Girls and Other Complicated Things" |
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