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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Scandal!"  You're all serious business—C-suite corporate executive—when you swing into the library at settle at the usual table, where Gloria and Kendra are already waiting. They, too, are wearing their most professional faces. They even have notebooks and pencils open and spread out in front of them. You also spread some writing implements out, and set and square up your cell phone, with the x2z app open, by your hand. But you don't write anything. Instead, you sit up very straight and stare off into the middle distance, and slowly and silently pump yourself up for the tirade that you're planing to loose. "You know what really pisses me off sometimes?" you say after a few minutes of solid silence. "The fucking double standards." Neither Kendra nor Gloria says anything. "The fucking double standards," you repeat. "A guy and a girl do it. You know what that makes the guy? A hero. A fucking superhero. It makes him fucking Superman." You glower. "And what does it make the girl? A whore." You clench your jaw, and a red mist rises before you. "It's so fucking hypocritical!" Kendra and Gloria listen intently. Your hand trembles as you fumble at the cell phone. "And if a guy has a three-way— If he sleeps with two girls at the same time? That's like godhood! People will talk about it for years. 'Remember the time Kevin Wyatt did it with Madeline Jones and Grace Galloway, out in Portable C, during lunch?' God fucking dammit! I get to hear about that every single fucking day from Steve and Gordon and Jason!" You snort. "And if it's two guys and a girl," you fume more quietly, "she's a super-whore! And no one says anything about how gay it was for the guys." You've been glaring off into space, unseeing, but not so blind that you've missed the glances being passed between Kendra and Gloria. After a very discreet silence, Kendra says, primly, "You're right, Chelsea." "You fucking know it," you growl. Then you slam your open palm on the table. The other two girls jump, and even you are a little startled. "Well, it stops now! I'm fed up with it, and it needs to stop, and this—!" Your fingers are trembling hard as you queue up the video and hit the screen to play it. "This!" Your breath is coming in such hard gasps that you start to hiccup. "This"—you have to force the words out as the screen silently plays to show Justin Roth swaggering out of the motel office, and coming up to lean against Kelsey's BMW—"is where we make our stand!" You slam the phone face down, and cover your face with your hands. * * * * * It's all grimly business-like from there. You order Kendra and Gloria to first of all find out "who the assholes were" who filmed it, and "who the motherfuckers were" that posted and circulated it. (Gloria is to concentrate on the first task, by talking to Kim Walsh to find out who rented that room on that day at that time; Kendra is to concentrate on the second.) And without ordering them to, you make it clear the attitude they're to take when talking about the video (and they're to talk about it with everyone): There's no excusing what Kelsey did, but Justin and Karl were ten time worse for doing it with her. You also speculate in front of them (and indirectly encourage them to speculate in front of others) that Kelsey wasn't even there for the sex, but was there to make Karl and Justin comfortable so they could relax and fuck each other. Kendra has to detour to her locker when the final bell rings, so you walk with Gloria to post-class cheerleader practice. A-Three can of course be trusted to follow your lead and orders exactly, but you have greater doubts about Gloria. "Listen," you tell her as you push along through the hallways, "you know I'm right about all this." "Of course you are," she says. "I'm serious about this, Gloria. Listen." You pull her aside. "This isn't just about 'social justice' or any bullshit like that," you tell her. "It really is unfair, the way guys get away with this shit. And girls don't. I mean, think about it from your perspective, Gloria." You cluck your tongue. "I know you have the worst luck getting laid, but one of these days it's going to happen, and what happens then if someone posts a video of it? Do you want this kind of thing happening to you?" Gloria looks like she's been knocked by a brick between the eyes, but you ignore it. "We need to change the tone around here, Gloria, we need to get rid of the— the— the bullshit swagger macho culture. You understand that?" "Yeah, I get it, Chelsea," she protests. "I agree." "But?" She looks confused. "But what?" "You look like you're going to say 'but something'." "No, no!" she protests. "Well, I'm really serious about this." You touch the corners of your eyes, where tears are threatening to congeal. "I can't believe," you gasp, "that I've put up with it for so long. I can't. Fucking. Believe it!" You dive into the nearest girls' restroom and hide in a stall as the tears burst out. But they stop almost the instant you have the door closed. Quietly, professionally, you compose and send a text to Michelle, telling her to be ready to use a mask on Stacey Stahl tomorrow after school. * * * * * Dance practice goes well, with Jack praising and encouraging all the girls, even as he pushes you all to give ten percent more than you really have to give. Afterwards, you're all giggles and eye flutters with him, even as you feel hot and blown and sweaty. (He looks it too, but it makes him look sexy.) You ask him if he can stick around afterward for twenty or thirty minutes, to view a tryout for the vacant position on the squad. He says he can, and asks who it is. "Stacey?" he says with some surprise when you tell him. "I know Stacey. Well, I know who she is." But when he meets her in the gym afterward (and after he himself has showered and changed clothes) he talks to her like she's an old and familiar friend. As you watch her do a quick routine, you and he murmur to each other in low voices. "How's Number Six doing?" "Very well. He was kind of awkward at first, shy, especially with so many girls crawling all over him." You feel a stabbing pang of jealousy. "Girls?" you coolly inquire. "Yeah. It's mostly girls we hang out with, and, well, I'm not available. Neither's most of the other guys. So Number Six is getting a lot of attention. "Interesting." "But I think Laura's got her hooks sunk pretty deep in him. Apparently they used to hang out a lot back when they were sophomores." You feel him giving you a sidelong glance. "Maybe we should bring Laura onto the team?" he asks. "Maybe. Or maybe someone. But I've got something else I need you to do." Briefly, you fill him in on the line you are pushing about the video. He nods. "That's easy. Jack already has a reputation for being kind of woke." "Really?" "Well, socially conscious. I was going to ignore it all, but no one will think it's weird if I say something." "More than 'something', Number Seven. Don't be an asshole about it, but kind of push it." "I know what you mean, and I will. All the girls will go along with me, I'm sure." "Awesome." You grip his arm, and find he has a strong and hefty bicep. "I'm so glad we added you to the team." "I'm so glad you did too, boss." * * * * * Number Seven praises Stacey when she's done, but doesn't promise her more than that he'll "talk" to her later. After she's gone to change, you order him to text her in the morning to tell her that she's on the squad, if she wants it, and to invite her stay after school. "Jack was really impressed with you," you tell her as you drive her home (in fulfillment of your promise). "I was too." "Thanks!" she squeals. "Do you think I— Um—?" "You're the only one we've seen, and between you and me I don't think we need to look at anyone else. But I dunno, Jack might feel like he has to give some other girls a chance." "There's some good girls out there," she admits. "But the thing is, you're going to have to be a team player." "Oh, I know." "No, I'm serious. We've had so much— Pfft! Bullshit on the squad! It was just so aggravating! We finally got started cleaning it up, got rid of some of the troublemakers, like Yumi and Michelle. "Psht! Michelle!" You glance over at her. "You know Michelle?" "I know who she is. Stuck-up, pretend know-it-all, because she's a senior. Psht!" she snorts again. "No one in the senior class really likes her, do they?" "No." Stacey nods. "That's how come she hangs out in the junior class." You nod too. Only you nod because you understand even better why Michelle wants to replace this little cunt. You catch her giving you a sly, sidelong glance. "Are there any parties happening this weekend?" "There's always parties happening, Stacey." "I mean, ones that you're going to." You blush at the implied flattery. "Sure! I just haven't picked out the one we're going to." She catches her breath. "Us?" she inquires. "Well, yeah. The whole squad! We don't always go to every party together, but this weekend we'll definitely be going as a whole gang!" It looks like she's going to faint. * * * * * Later that night, you call Michelle. After confirming that she can be on hand tomorrow to help with Stacey, you ask her, "Now, she's not going with anyone, right?" "You mean, dating? She's going out with Jason Rowe." "What?" This news startles you. "How seriously?" "Pretty seriously, I think." "Because I asked her this afternoon if she's— Well, we were talking the weekend, and I asked if she had a boyfriend or anything, and she said no!" Michelle is silent a moment. Then she says, "Well, that's Stacey for you. Probably she's already thinking of trading Jason in for a senior." Next: "Bros and Hos" |
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