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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Dane's Deals"  Gordon Black—or, to be precise, Dane Matthias-trapped-in-Gordon Black's body—grins and gestures at you to follow him. You shake your head. A expression of huge disappointment washes over his face. He gestures at you again, more broadly. You shake your head again, more vigorously. He clasps his hands in a begging gesture, and turns big puppy dog eyes on you. You have never seen Gordon Black acting this way. No one has, and heads begin to turn. They also quickly turn away, lest they be caught looking at him acting in this very goofy way. Ms. Simeon—a bird-like woman with long, dark hair that hangs to her hips—walks over to him. "Do you need something, Gordon?" she asks. He blinks at her, and guffaws. "Oh man, this is so trippy," he exclaims. "You're so tiny!" "Yes I am," she replies in a brittle chirp. "And you're in the wrong room." She pushes at him—which is like watching a bird trying to shove a brick wall—until gets him out the door, which she closes in his face. But still he stares into the room at you through the narrow window, making goofy, pleading expressions. Not until after the tardy bell has rung does he disappear. * * * * * He's going to find you, of course. He knows Dane's schedule, and he knows where Dane hangs out, he knows all that stuff better than you. He's probably totally lost as Gordon, and will be looking hard for you. So you skip second period and look for a place to hide. You first try the natatorium, but Coach Acuna kicks you out. Next you try for the weight room in the gym, but it's full of wrestlers. You edge around the back of the main building toward the agriculture stalls, but spot Gordon down at the other end, looking around, so you dive into F wing and skulk your way to the library. Maybe you can dodge him in the stacks if he comes looking in there. Carson Ioeger, deeply absorbed in some homework, occupies a table in the middle of the library, so you drop down next to him. "Hey, Ioeger, my favorite buddy," you gasp, and he looks up, startled. "You gotta hide me, man, I'm in deep shit." "What's wrong?" "It's Gordon Black, man, he's on the hunt for me!" He blanches. "What makes you think I can hide you from big, dumb and dangerous?" "He's always after you and Lamont, I figure maybe you know places to, you know, hide." His eyes narrow. "Why's he after you?" "I dunno! I was just in my algebra class, 'cos, you know, I gotta go sometimes, man, or else, like, I'm gonna flunk—" Carson snorts. "And I look up and there he is in the doorway, like—" You mime the Frankenstein monster while keeping in your seat. "And he's all waving at me, trying to get me to follow him. And he's grinning at me, which is like fucked up scary!" Carson stares at you, then guffaws. "You don't know why he's after you, Dane? Christ!" He hurriedly looks around, realizing he's raised his voice too loud, then hunches in close to you. "He's lookin' to score some, you know—" Now he mimes, taking a hit on a joint. "No way, man! What makes you think that?" Carson looks around again, then pulls you even closer. "At practice this morning he was as high as, well, you, usually," he says. "You know how the basketball team has pre-class practice?" You nod. "Well, I heard—" His lips tickles as he buzzes quietly in your ear. "He was totally baked when he went in. Couldn't hit the fucking basket for nothing, couldn't bounce the fucking ball, just kept giggling. Patterson yelled at him or something, but he just laughed at him and went off somewhere." "You're shitting me!" Of course, you can easily believe it. "How'd you hear about it?" "I've got my sources. And yesterday— Didn't you see him yesterday? No? Well, he spent a big part of the afternoon with Semple and Gerard, toked up until he couldn't walk, I heard." "No, man, I didn't hear about that. So you think he wants—" "I'm sure of it." "But I don't got any, 'cept what I keep here." You pat the pocket of your jacket, which is freshly supplied with what Dwayne gave you. "So share. You don't want him pissed at you." "I don't wanna run into him." Carson leans back. "Sorry, man. It's not like I can carry you around in my back pack." "You sure? 'Cos—" You fiddle with the zipper on his pack; he slaps you away. Then his expression freezes as he sees something behind you. You turn to look. Steve Patterson—tall, strong, gray-eyed and glacial—has come in. His eyes contract into something as narrow and sharp and cold as an icepick. He stalks over and punches you hard on the side of the head. You yowl and duck, nursing and hiding your ringing skull. From your cowering crouch you watch as Patterson takes Carson's head in the crook of his arm and hustles him into a corner of the library. You can't hear what he says to your hapless friend, but he raises his knee sharply a couple of times, causing Carson to make some very quiet choking noises. After a minute of this, Patterson drops him. You hide your face, but as he passes he grabs you by the hair. You stifle a shriek as he half lifts you from the chair. "You stay the fuck away from Gordon, you fucking stoner," he hisses in your ear. "If I catch you even looking in his direction, I'll light your cock with a blowtorch and make you smoke it. Stay the fuck away from the basketball squad." He shoves you hard, cracking one of your ribs on the side of the table. After he's gone, you look up through the wet in your eyes. Carson is still hunched in the corner, breathing heavily and looking very red in the face, but after a minute he struggles to his feet and returns to the table. "Man, I think we're in trouble," you say. "You got that right," he says, and winces as he sits. "Now get the fuck away from me, Dane. You're dangerous to know." You try protesting, but he angrily picks up his stuff and moves to another table, leaving you sadly isolated. At no point during this drama did the other students in the library look up from their work; most of them buried themselves even more deeply in it; and even the library aide had ducked below the counter on some urgent business out of Patterson's eye line. * * * * * Your dodge trouble during third period—at the cost of skipping Dane's French class—but it catches up to you with a vengeance during fourth. You're making your way toward Walberg's when strong hands seize you from behind and hustle you toward the outer doors. Your first thought is that it's Gordon—this is the way he caught you a few days ago—but you're not lifted in the air. Still, you're not eager to find out who's got hold of you, and just let yourself be carried along. You end up, as before, at the portables, shoved face-first into one of the walls. An agonizing punch to your kidneys drops you to your knees. "Where's the shit, Matthias," an angry voice hisses in your ear. "Who's back there?" you ask in a bleating voice. Another punch to the kidneys. "Where's the shit, Matthias," whoever it is demands, more roughly. "Where'd you put it, you fucked up shit-for-brains?" You try turning around, but only get a kick in the balls for your effort, which doubles you over. Your assaulter shoves your face into the grass. "It's supposed to be under there, you fucking doof! Where'd you fucking put it?" He grabs the back of your head and slams your face repeatedly into the dirt. Finally, he releases you, and choking and coughing you turn over to look up. You wipe your eyes, and the figure comes into focus. What little hope you had of getting out of this alive dies away. It's Gary Chen, Chinese-American gangbanger. You glance around fearfully, looking for David Kirkham, his comrade-in-bloodcurdling-douchebaggery, or one of their odious little pilot-fish. But it's only Chen at the moment. Something thick and viscous is dribbling down your nose. You snort it back, and taste blood. "Uh, hey man. You, uh, wanna know about the, uh, the shit?" A fell light comes into Chen's eye, and he raises a hard fist. "Shit! Shit! Don't!" You raise your hand to ward off the blow. "I got it, man, like, uh, here?" From your pocket you pull out the tokes you'd brought to school. Chen slaps them away, then punches you again. "I'm talking about a fucking metal briefcase, Matthias. What fucking day is it today? I already gave your fucking cousin his fucking money, so where the fuck is the shit he promised me?" Okay, you were pretty sure that's what this is about, and now that you've got confirmation— "Oh yeah, I got it, I mean, Dwayne gave it to me. It's just that, uh—" Chen pulls his foot back, readying to kick you in the face. But then he's distracted, and leaps around a corner. A shrill cry rends the air. You gape as he drags Adrian Semple back with him. Into Semple he lays double the fury he laid into you, and when you try to move he nails you to the ground with a glare. When Semple stops screaming, he's able to answer Chen's repeated question: "You know about this? What do you know about this?" "I saw Gordon out here earlier," Semple cries. "He was digging around under the portable." Now you notice a loose board by where you're crouching. "Black?" Chen asks, and white shows under his bronzed skin when Semple nods. * To continue: "Jobs Begun Badly, Then Bungled" |
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