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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Stalking a New Body, Part 2"  "What are you doing now," you ask Caleb. "Wanna hang out at the elementary school? I got supplies I hafta take back there." "Sure," he says. "As long as we don't talk about your new cock. I was going to make another mask anyway." "Really?" You grin. "Who for?" "For me, dipwad." He keeps his eyes on the road, and the muscles in his cheek tighten. "No, I mean who were you going to -- ?" "I haven't decided." He glances at you. "How do you know this guy's really that popular with the girls? How did you find him?" You can't answer any of those questions without telling him about Evie, so you just tell him you heard some girls talking about how they had a serious crush on him, and how they called him "Teh Body." "'Cos his name's Bhodi, see? B-H-O-D-I, and it sounds like -- " "I get it." Caleb shoots you a skeptical, sidelong look. "And you got inside this guy and found out he's thirty-one kinds of Baskin-Robbins ice cream? Really?" "Don't give me shit, man. This guy's hung like a horse and he's got girls who want it from him." "You can say the same thing about Patterson." "Yeah, well, Patterson -- " You do a double take. "Whoa. Is that who you're gonna use the mask on?" He shifts in the seat. "Thinking about it. I was kind of hoping you were going to get Seth Javits or someone like that, someone who could give me a leg up into -- " "You wanna turn yourself into Steve Patterson?" "Temporarily! A couple of nights a week." He flushes. "You know, to score with some of the -- I mean, if you think you can use this Hershey bar here to -- " "I told you, don't be racist, man. I can totally call you out on that shit now, Scandinavia-boy." "Bite me." You laugh softly at him, not with him, all the way back to the elementary school. * * * * * You and Caleb hang out for a couple of hours, talking a little as you carve runes into two brain bands -- two of them because you both need something to do, and the car buffer would make too much noise to talk over. You give him a quick sketch of Bhodi's life -- how his dad, now a fifty-something tax attorney, met his mom while working in India, brought her back to the US, and had two sons, Bhodi the younger and Jai the older who just graduated from college. As for your acquired life and its history -- Your impression of these, like your impression of Bhodi's home life, comes as a soft swirl of petal leaves, each with a different face or tiny incident. Mrs. Cunningham, the first-grade teacher who showed you how to add and subtract; Mr. Moon, who tried patiently to teach you piano for a year when you were eight; David Smith, who moved into the house next to yours in the third grade and was your best friend until his family moved again; the two weeks at a Bible camp in the mountains, where you cried out of homesickness, and cried again when you came home to find that Jai had moved to college while you were gone; swimming lessons, and the horror of chlorine you acquired; the move from Missouri to Saratoga Falls, and the anxiety of going to a new school; vomiting up cooked beets in the Schuyler Middle School cafeteria; the trophy your soccer team won in the eighth grade; the first time you saw Paulina, on your first day in the freshman class at Westside. These don't come in a rush, but occur singly over the hours as one thing or another reminds you of them. Mostly you occupy yourself with thinking about your new friends, and describe them in a halting way to Caleb when he asks if any of Bhodi's friends are close to any girls and thus worth copying into a mask. "I dunno," you have to admit. "There'll all kind of dorky still? Like Andy Jensen? I mean, he looks like he's still in seventh grade or something. I dunno, I guess some of the girls might think he's cute, 'cos he's got these big eyes and all." None of the others seem promising either. Joe Dickerson has a Charlie Brown-sized head. Seriously, it's like a bobble-head, and it's perfectly round, with a huge forehead under his close-cropped hair. But at least he's got a serious brain, which is more than can be said for Grant Lowery, whose goofy manner, comical bug-eyed expressions, and cherry-colored hair make you think of a de-freckled Ron Weasely. Justin Orr, with his long face, thick blonde hair, and blue eyes would be conventionally handsome except for the disfiguring acne that gives his cheeks the color and texture of ripe strawberries. You sketch these guys briefly for Caleb, mostly so you can dismiss them. But you're able to think of a couple of possibilities. "There's Kieran Matthews, he just moved to town, I've heard some of the girls squealing over him." You struggle for the words to describe him, then snap your fingers. "Hang on, I got a picture of him on my phone. Melanie -- Melanie Heath, I mean -- she wanted a picture of him, so I -- " You scroll through your iPhone until you find it. "Here, that's him." Caleb glances over to eye the picture of a smooth-faced kid with a grave expression, alert eyes, tousled brown locks, a tie-dye t-shirt, and a giant silver pendant hanging from a chain around his neck. "I bet you could get in a clinch with some of the girls if you went to a party as him." "Parties, huh? I guess that's the way to do it." Caleb flips through a few more photos, stopping on one. "I hate my birthday, I hate my parents, and I do drugs," he says. "Huh? Oh." He was reading the homemade t-shirt of the guy in the picture. "Trask McKinney. Yeah, you don't want anything to do with him. Gets wasted all the time, I hear. That's probably vodka in the plastic cup he's holding." "What are you doing with his picture?" "We were at a party and he showed up. I couldn't believe -- Bhodi couldn't believe the t-shirt," you correct yourself. "So he took a picture. It's homemade, the t-shirt I mean, in case you can't tell. It's just a shirt and he used an indelible marker to write the -- " Caleb has been scrolling through the images, and he interrupts you with a low whistle. "Damn. Who's she?" "Melanie Heath. I mentioned her. She's at Eastman now." Caleb looks up with a grin. "Do you know any guys at Eastman I could be?" "She's got a boyfriend now." "Excellent. Can I be him?" "I don't -- " Then you stop. Tyler Ward does play soccer on the Eastman boys' JV team. You're friends with Melanie. Actually, you probably could swing it. "Write his name down. Maybe I can get to him for you." Caleb reaches for a scrap of paper and writes "Tyler Ward" on it. "Who was that other guy?" he asks, and writes down "Kieran Matthews" when you tell him. "Who else in here has a hot girlfriend?" "I don't think any of them have girlfriends. Oh, Matthew Adams, write his name down." "Is he in your phone?" "Don't think so. But he walks around like he thinks he's cute. On account of his hair, I think." "What's so special about his hair?" "I dunno. He keeps it short and frosted." "What about guys on the sports teams? Don't they -- " "Oh yeah, there's them!" You clap your hands. "Andrew Webb might work for you. He's on the soccer team." You retrieve the phone from Caleb and scroll through, stopping on one that shows the JV soccer squad. You tap the screen and expand the image. "This guy, he's going to be like the, I dunno, Javits of the sophomore class." "He doesn't look like Javits." "I mean 'cos he's so cocky." The kid is smooth and pink, from his strawberry-blonde buzz cut down to his knees, but he lifts his chin and squints arrogant little piggy eyes at the camera over folded arms. "He's going to be the team captain when he's a senior. That's what he's planning on, anyway. Him and his two friends. They say they've got it all planned out, he's gonna be soccer captain and the others are gonna be the football and basketball captains." At your urging he writes down their names too: Aaron Riggs and Elijah Washington. You're definitely warming up to the idea getting Caleb a mask of someone in the sophomore class, but he shies away, and despite your urging declares more firmly his intention to use a mask on Patterson, or another of that type in the senior class. * * * * * It's close to dinnertime before you're done with the bands, and you leave after helping Caleb make two masks but before he can start polishing them. You don't need a ride from him, because Bhodi lives in Acheson only a couple of blocks away from the old school. The Weavers aren't rich exactly, but they are comfortably upper middle class. Todd Weaver is a tax attorney, and his wife Darpana runs her own small business -- a maid service. The Weaver house -- no surprise -- is neat and tidy. But Bhodi is far from spoiled. You were able to come home late only because it was not your night to cook for the family, and after you finish the meal and load the dishwasher and take out the trash, your new mother only has to point upstairs for you to take the hint to go up to do homework. You check texts as you work, though. Still none from Evie, and your mom said nothing about her coming by after school. Cautiously you sound out Andy and Joe and Justin to see if they've heard from her, then probe at Paulina and Lindsay. From the latter you hear that Evie is texting from home, claiming to be sick. So far, so good. But it occurs to you that there's one test to make that will settle how safe you are. * To continue: "In the Game" |
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