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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "School Haze"  You don't want to meet the kind of people who would be behind the portables, and suddenly you don't really want to meet Walberg either. Dane's company, though, promises some light silliness, so you jog off the way he went. "Hey Dane!" you call when you glimpse him the parking lot. He turns, eyes wide. "So what are doing now?" you ask as you puff up to him. "Oh, I dunno," he shrugs. He blinks, but you've not been separated so long that he'll have forgotten talking to you, and he grins. "Change your mind? Cool!" He sounds genuinely enthusiastic. "Now if I could only remember where I--" There aren't many cars in the lot, but he has enough trouble that you're able to steer him away from his own ride. He hasn't been in a bad accident yet, but you don't want to be with him when he does. "How about I drive?" you offer. "You just tell me where to go." "Aw, you can pick. If it was me, we'd just probably wind up goin' in circles. You know?" "The river?" you say, and tug him over toward your truck. "Why, you wanna make out? We should find some girls then, 'cos--" He giggles inanely. You start to demur on the "girl" idea, but catch yourself in time. If Dane knows some girls, girls who are like him-- Girls who are casual and friendly and not stuck up or judgmental. Girls who like to dress in loose, sloppy, revealing clothes. Girls whose eyes twinkle merrily and who smile when they look at you. Girls who'd scoot up close to you and tuck themselves inside the crook of your arm and look up with a mischievous expression and ask you directly what your lips feel like and then jump in to find out for themselves without even waiting for a reply, and who might tell you afterward that it was pretty nice, and tell you that you feel good inside their arms, and who laugh and josh and banter and plainly don't give a fuck except when they're looking for a little light fun. Girls who might make a daisy chain and put it in your hair and then laughingly suggest it might look better woven into a patch of your hair lower down, and reach for your zipper and-- "Dude, you're almost as bad as me!" Dane says. You look over with a glazed expression, and realize you've been staring goggle-eyed out the windshield with the motor running for-- Well, for enough time that even Dane has noticed that nothing is happening. "So, you know some girls?" you squeak. "Oh, I know lotsa girls. Hey, I know, let's go find Andrea!" "Andrea? You don't mean Varnsworth, do you?" you gasp. "Sure! Her and me-- Oh, well, she pretends like she doesn't like me, but she thinks I'm cute." He turns and sits up on his knees, to gaze out the back window. "Okay, you're clear back there." Of course you are. There's no cars in front or in back or within twenty yards. You start the truck and gun it toward the exit. "But you hang out with Andrea Varnsworth?" You still can't quite believe it. "Yeah! I go over there, and she'll be all, like, What are you doing here, Dane? And I'm all, like, Sure, can I help you pick somethin' in your garden? And she's all, like, Just sit down and listen to some music or something. And then I'll chill and she'll do some work in the house and we'll chat and talk about people and things. An' we'll flirt. I'm always tellin' her she's sexy, and she tells me I'm cute--" He laughs and covers his face with his hands. "Have you ever--? I mean, if you're flirting, and she says you're cute, have you ever--?" He looks over at you blankly. "Huh?" "Well--" You feel your face turning very red. "Okay, never mind, I didn't mean to--" "Oohhh!" he says, and slumps. "Nah. She always kicks me out before we can get anyplace like that. But she thinks I'm cute, and that's--" He stretches his legs and sucks hard on his lower lip. Honestly, it just sounds like puppy love on his part, and indulgence on hers. Andrea Varnsworth is the captain of the swim team: a tall, slim, sculpted girl who slips through the school without making waves. Her eyes have met yours on a few occasions in class. You probably had a hurt and pleading expression in yours--most guys go limp and helpless in her presence--but there had been no expression in hers. They are like still pools at the bottom of which dwells a satiated but still dangerous predator. To the best of your knowledge, no guy has ever made it out--even on a chaste date--with her. Andrea is definitely not the kind of girl you were fantasizing about earlier. But imagine being able to tell Caleb and Keith that you spent the afternoon at Andrea Varnsworth's house. Oh yeah, you could tell them in a slightly off-hand way. She told me I was cute. Well, if she says that about Dane, why wouldn't say it about you? "So let's go see Andrea," you say. "Where does she live?" "Oh, thataway." Dane waves his hand. "I'll tell you when to turn. So, you know any girls, Prescott?" There's a note of sly mischief in his question. "Well, I sometimes hang out with Jenny Ashton and her friends--" "Oh, Jenny's a tomboy, ain't she? I love Jenny!" "--so I sometimes also see Yumi Saito and Lin Pol, because they--" "You hang out with some of the cheerleaders? Oh, man, I'm so jealous! I love Yumi and Lin 'specially!" "And sometimes Eva and Jessica Garner," you can't help adding, since he's so impressed by the "cheerleader" connection. In fact, he's so impressed that he slaps his own head a couple of times. "I need to start hangin' out with you some more! I love twins!" "Are there any girls you don't love, Dane?" "Not many," he laughs. "And there's Lisa Yarborough." You leave the name hanging, feeling extra curious about his reaction there, but he keeps silent. "You love her, too?" "Eh," he shrugs. "It's all relative." And suddenly you're not feeling quite so kindly toward him. Because Lisa hasn't just been a crush of yours since the start of your junior year, she actually went out with you over the summer-- Well, you thought you were going out with her, until that horrible day a few weeks ago when you put your arm around her shoulder at her locker and she threw it off and coolly told you that, actually, the two of you had never formally said anything about dating, and then suddenly it was Geoff Mansfield who was always near her. So you just grunt in answer to Dane's own grunt. "Anyway, that's all I really see around, like, seriously." "Well, shoot, man, that's more'n enough quality wise. You just need a few more numbers, and--" Suddenly, he swings his head toward the passenger-side window and jumps up in his seat. He beats his palms against pane. "Oh! Oh! Here! Turn around here, Prescott! I know who we can hang out with! Come on, man, turn around!" "What the--" you start, but he keeps badgering you, so you get over into the right-hand lane and manage to make it onto a side street without causing an accident. Dane looks in serious danger of wetting himself, he's so excited as he guides you back in a wide circle toward the strip center you'd passed. When you're back on the main thoroughfare, he steers you into its parking lot. "Here?" you ask incredulously. "Yeah! You see the-- What kinda car is that? Anyway, I know these guys! They'll be fun!" Your eyebrow goes up skeptically. The kind of guys who hang out at King Kong Komics aren't your idea of "fun." * * * * * The bell on the door jingles and Dane's head swings wildly around; unkindly, you think it sounds like his brain rattling inside his skull. The shop itself is dark and smells musty, but the side caf' is more brightly lit, and it's in there that Dane leads you. Eric Kim, the fat, happy Korean owner of the store and caf', is seated at a table, and returns Dane's cheery greeting with one of his own. The four high school students he's sitting with also smile warmly up at Dane, and smile more coolly at you. Your own smile is tight, and internally you sigh. Roleplayers. Not that you have anything against roleplaying games, since you'd done your share of them in middle school. But guys who are still enthusiastic for them their senior year ... Well, you're not in a position to look down on these guys, but you're so low on the social scale that you need someone to condescend to. Dane pulls up a chair. "So, you guys kill that dragon?" "No dragons in this game, Dane," Christian Knouse says. "Well, not yet," he adds more darkly as he glares at Howie Baylor. "Just orcs. I feel like a traitor to my class." He tips back a Pepsi. "It's called rising tension," Howie retorts. "You want a kapow climax at the start, go watch a Michael Bay movie." "If I want rising tension and a kapow climax, I'll get some porn," says Darrell Parson. "And your mage isn't helping either with all those fire spells," he adds more heatedly at Hugh Flake. "Hey, they're clearing the room just fine," Hugh says. "You guys need a new magic manual, is what you need," says Eric, provoking a chorus of groans. "Hey, don't blame the man who's got merchandise to move." Magic manual. Of course: Guys into this kind of game would probably pay a pretty penny for an authentic grimoire, even if its pages were stuck together. That's all for now. |
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