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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Girl for Prescott"  Andrea Varnsworth. That's the full text you send to Kelsey's phone. But after a minute or so, you send a clarifying text: How about I start going out with her? She calls you back directly. "Would you mind being a little clearer in your texts?" she snaps as soon as you pick up. "What the fuck are you talking about, you going out with Andrea?" You bite your tongue. "I mean," you explain with a rigid calmness, "how about we add Andrea to this coven of witches and whatever we're making, and you can be her, and I can start going out with her." "And who is 'you', exactly? Because even if—" "Will Prescott." There's a pause. "Is he wearing a mask when he's going out with Andrea?" "Well—" "It's actual Will and actual Andrea?" "I didn't think it was going to be that hard to understand, Sydney." "Well, it is! That's why I'm asking if you can be—" It's a struggle, but you still manage to keep your temper. And maybe she can sense that struggle, for after breaking off, she sighs briskly and says, "Sorry, I'm sorry, just hang on, I—" She sighs again. "I got into a thing with Kelsey's mom, and I'm— Just give me a minute to sort myself out." There's a few moments of labored breathing, followed by: "Okay. So you're saying that we add Andrea, and I switch with her, and you ... go back to being yourself? And we start going out, with me as Andrea?" You blink, for you were more thinking that you'd stay as Kirkham, but get some "side benefits" from Andrea while she was going out with your golem. "Well, sure," you say. "At least, some of the time." "But I want it to be you, Will," she insists, "if we're going to do this. 'Cos I told you, I miss you." Actually, she sounds like she's ticked off at you. But you want to keep her happy, so tell her that, yes, you'll switch out from Kirkham's mask and go back to being yourself. You even agree to make the change-back that very night. * * * * * You whip up a quick-and-dirty fried rice for supper, and leave it warming on the stove for Mary Kirkham, then dash back to Acheson, to the old elementary school, while texting your replacement to meet you there. Down in the basement you wrench Kirkham's mask off; you wake feeling weak and anxious; and you shiver as you study the inside of his mask. Fuck me, you think to yourself with a kind of horrified awe. I really was being him! You look up at your doppelganger, who has been idling all this time in a corner with his phone. He seems to sense your gaze, for he looks up to meet your stare with one of his own. "So, what was it like on your side of it?" you ask him. "My side of what?" he asks. But instead of answering—What was it like being me while I was being him?—you just gesture him over and tell him to get undressed and spread out on the table. You pull the mask off him, briefly exposing the unconscious Amanda Ferguson, before putting Kirkham's mask onto her. She vanishes, replaced by the lithe form of David Kirkham. His eyes flick open, and he gives you a very steady look before abruptly hiking himself to a sitting position. You step back. "Jesus, boss," he sneers. "Don't be such a fucking pussy,I ain't gonna do anything to you." You can't help squeaking. "No?" He hops to his feet. "Well, not unless you want me to." He plumps out his lips in a smirk, and advances on you. "No, that's okay," you stammer. More firmly: "You should get dressed now." "Is that an order?" He lifts his chin. "Yes." He shrugs and turns back to the table, where his clothes are piled up. "Oh, this is gonna be fun," he says as he dresses. "You, me, that Sydney." He kisses his fingertips. "Kelsey, the rest of the gang." He pauses after getting his shorts on, and looks over at you. "You should get ahold of Amanda, tell her to take me out to the Donna tomorrow, order us to make an afternoon of it. Get yourself some fine fucking memories"—he points to his temple—"for next time you dress out as me." "If there is a next time," you retort, for you are feeling rebellious at being pushed around by a pedisequos. "Oh, there'll be a next time, boss," the Kirkham-bot says. He chortles softly to himself, and advances bare-chested on you. "You were having too much fun." He snickers as he turns to finish dressing. * * * * * You were dreading putting on that mask of yourself, to get the memories out of it, but are surprised at how bland and blank they feel when you wake. There's not many memories there. Just vague flashes of classes at school, and of eating alone in a corner because all your friends have deserted you, along one really vivid memory of being hauled out to the portables by David Kirkham and Gary Chen, and being hurt until you promised to stop going out with Sydney McGlynn. And another, equally vivid memory of furtively taking Sydney aside and telling her, "The boss says we have to break up." But there are no emotions to go with the memories. You were expecting to be hit with pangs of fear, anxiety, nausea, anger, and self-pity. But though you remember acting afraid and angry and all the rest, you don't have any of the emotional "feels" to go with them. The closest you can come to experiencing the gut-wrenching horror of facing down both Kirkham and Chen is by pantomiming it to yourself now. But it has no reality. You are in a thoughtful mood as you return home. Hey, I'm back to myself, you text Kelsey after you've climbed back into your truck. Her reply comes as you're heading inside your house: Great I'm getting Andrea out her tomorrow will switch then and message u. Your guts briefly liquefy and spin with anticipation at the thought of meeting up with Andrea Varnsworth. Who is going to be my girlfriend! you excitedly remind yourself. "What are you all smiles about?" your mother asks when pass through the living room, and that's the first you realize that you are grinning to yourself. "Oh, just 'cos it's Friday," you tell her, and hurry on to your bedroom. * * * * * You're at loose ends the next morning, what with having no friends anymore, so you don't bitch too much about being put to work by your dad with some outside chores. He sends you to get lunch when you're done, and you bother Kelsey with a text while you're out doing that, but her reply doesn't come until you're eating, and then it's just to say, Hold tight still working on it. That leaves you very anxious, and when some video gaming brings no relief you haul out your old bike and ride it around the neighborhood until you've transmuted all that nervous energy into nervous exhaustion, which is no improvement. You are lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling while nursing half of an erection, when your phone chimes. You grab it so quick it nearly squirts from your fingers. The text is from Andrea Varnsworth. Hi, she says. I'm at Crystal Cave. Want to stop by and pretend like you randomly ran into me? An embarrassing sound, halfway between a groan and a squeal, squeezes out of your throat. Your limbs are atremble with anxiety and anticipation as you tear off your doing-the-chores clothes and change into a nice pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. "Byemomi'mgoingt'meetsumnfrcoffee!" you yell as you fly through the living room for your truck. Fifteen minutes later your knees are knocking hard as you hobble up to the door of the Crystal Cave. Play it cool, you tell yourself as you pull the door open and step inside. You're just stopping in here for a coffee. You were next door at Arnholms', and you decided to stop in and get a coffee. You weren't looking for anyone—so you tell yourself as you crane your neck to scope out the dining area—so if you just happen to see, say, Andrea Varnsworth sitting by herself at a table, it's a total coincidence. And you are telling yourself all this because, on the drive out, you decided that if Sydney wants to roleplay it—pretend like you randomly ran into me—you will roleplay it to the hilt. After all, how cool and exciting and fun would it be to run into Andrea Varnsworth, and get to talking to her, and then go off with her, and wind up necking with her—and to have it all be "random happenstance"? But she doesn't seem to be here, which puzzles you, because she said that she was already up here. Didn't she? You recheck the text, and ... Yes, she says I'm at Crystal Cave, and there's no followup telling you that she's gone someplace else. Did she make a mistake, and is she someplace else? You glance up at a quick, raucous laugh from the back of the dining area. There's a guy and a girl there. You recognize him from school—though you can't place his name—because he's a real standout, what with his giant, loose-tangled, quasi-afro of poofy hair, which he wears teased up and out, like the hair of a troll doll. There's a girl leaning against his hip, and he's got his arm around her waist. They are talking to someone hidden in a booth. Your heart plunges and, ignoring the barista who has just asked if he can help you, you move into the dining area and maneuver yourself into the opposite corner. Troll-boy and his girlfriend ignore you. But Andrea Varnsworth, who is sitting by herself in the booth, flicks her eyes at you briefly before turning back to the other two with a bored, lazy half-smile. Next: "Swimming With the Tide" |
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