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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Taming of a Shrew"  You let Mrs. Matthias prattle on about her new life—about the new girl she is going to be—until she runs out of steam. "That sounds great," you say after she's lapsed into a dreamy silence and gone back to flipping through pictures on her phone. "But I guess I should go." She nods, and doesn't look up. "Or, I guess we should go," you correct myself. Mrs. Matthias doesn't react. It's a stiff-legged gait that carries you back to the bedroom to fetch the others. As you push open the door, you resolve not to explain to Mrs. Matthias what three high school students—two guys and a girl—were doing in a back bedroom of her trailer. And she doesn't ask. She just does a massive double-take and stares open-mouthed as your trio trudges to the door. "Good night, Mrs. Matthias," Caleb says. "Later, ma'am," you say. "Bye," Lindsay mutters. * * * * * There's no talk on the drive back, until Caleb pulls up at Lindsay's house. "Remember, you don't tell anyone what happened tonight," you tell the golem as she starts to get out of the car. "You haven't seen me or Caleb. You were home all evening. You were doing homework. That's all." "Whatever you say," she grumbles. "Do you still have the grimoire?" Caleb asks her. The golem returns him a sullen look, then looks at you. "Do you have the grimoire?" you ask her. "Yes. In my closet." "Tell her to bring it out," Caleb says, and you relay the order. Lindsay slams the car door and stomps into the house. "Christ," he mutters. "Can you imagine being that little troll?" "I've seen you stomp around in a bad mood like that before." Caleb shoves a middle finger next to your nose. "Here," Lindsay says when she returns, and pushes the book at you through the car window. "Anything else?" "Yes. Caleb will pick you up tomorrow and take you out to the Donna Courts motel. Go with him. We're gonna talk." "What about?" "People. You can go inside now." You roll up the window on her sullen stare. Yes, you need to talk to her about people. Who can I be? you need to ask her, Who hangs out with you, or could hang out with you, so I can keep an eye on you? You would have that talk with her tonight, but you can put up with her attitude for only for a little bit at a time, and you've definitely had your daily quota. "So what's the deal?" Caleb asks after pulling back into the street. "You got a special job for her?" "Yeah, I want to talk to her about aliases. I still need one." "Pfaw!" You jerk around at Caleb's exclamation. "What?" He only grimaces, and for half a block ignores your repeated "What?" Then an idea seems to occur to him, and he lunges into a right hand lane and swerves onto another boulevard. "You and these aliases," he fumes. "How many people have you been since we started this mess? Five? Six? Twenty? Four score and—?" "Those were temporary," you retort. "You know, to get, like, Evie back." "But this new one is going to be permanent?" "Ye-es." He snorts again. "And you're going to let Lindsay— Correction. You're going to let a copy of Lindsay pick one out for you." You feel your face reddening. "I'm not going to let her pick. I'm going to ask her for ideas." "You were going to be her." "And I changed my mind!" "Fuck. It's like you can't sit still, man. You're not happy wherever you land. Or any time you get close to being someone, you find some reason to back off." "Well, it's pretty fucking important that I get the right person! Don't you think?" You breath turns labored, and your chest heaves. "I mean, we're talking about the rest of my life!" "The rest of someone else's life, you mean. So it has to be perfection? You're never gonna pick someone in that case." You glower at him. "So here's what we're going to do," he continues. "No, hang on. We're just going to do it, I'm not gonna give you a chance to argue." He jerks the wheel hard again and lurches into a shopping center. "Stay here," he says, and he leaves the motor running as he runs into a drugstore. * * * * * You wind up at a back table at Starbucks, you with a baffled and angry look on your face and Caleb with a grim expression as he bends over the small notebook he bought at the CVS. He shields it from you as he writes on a page, then tears it into four strips. These he folds up. Then he writes on a fifth strip, tears it out, and puts it in his shirt pocket. All that done, he wedges the first four slips of paper between the knuckles of his right hand. "Pick one," he says. You stare at him, the fold your arms and curl your lip. "No." "Come on." "No. Those are the names of aliases. You want me to pick an alias that you chose, and then make me—" "No, these are the names people who will pick an alias for you," he says. "You're going to pick one, and we're going to go to them, and we're not going to tell them what it's about. But we're going to ask them, If you could be anyone else at Westside— No! Anybody else in Saratoga Falls, who would it be? Then we'll ask them for a second choice. And that's who you'll be." "I'll be their second choice?" you ask. That makes no sense. "Well, their second choice if you can't be their first choice. Because maybe they're going to be their first choice. Yeah, Joe Dickerson's name is on one of these pieces of paper. And maybe for him we'll have to ask for a third or fourth choice, you know, if he names people that his friends—" "Okay, so else did you write down? Who are we supposed to be asking?" You're pretty sure you don't like this game, but you want an excuse for rejecting it. "Joe, Bhodi, Lindsay, and me." Caleb pats his pocket. "I wrote down my choice and put it in my pocket, so you'll know I'm not fucking with you." You stare at him. This is stupid, you think. But then second thoughts crowd in on you. It does seem like you're having a very squirrely time of settling down. Instead of picking an alias, you asked Joe for advice. Then after you picked Lindsay, you changed your mind. You were going to get suggestions from Lindsay, then sent her home without talking about it. And what if you don't like her suggestions? Will you just keep chasing names, and changing your mind? Like Caleb says you're doing? "Come on, man," Caleb mutters. Your fingers twitch. "Show me the names," you challenge him. "So I know you're not fucking with me, so that it's not just your on all those pieces of paper." So he sighs, and unfolds all the slips, showing that they have the names he said were on them. Then he folds them back up, shakes them in his hand, and slides them back between his knuckles. Still you hesitate. There's an awful finality about this. Then another, more devilish thought comes to you: I'll take the person you picked, asshole, if you pick one of the other three names and turn yourself into the person they pick. That's all for now. |
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