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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Clouds of Fame and Glory"  "Kelsey was here? Thank God she drove off!" you exclaim. "She was probably here to see Kim, and I'm in enough trouble— Or someone who looks like me is in enough trouble—" "What are you talking about?" Caleb grins. "Did you get up to something while I was gone?" "No, but it sounds like my twin did. After you left, that Sean guy came over to talk to me at my table. He said something about how I got in a fight with Javits at school." "No!" Caleb explodes with laughter. "Did you hear about that?" "Nah, I told you, I don't hang out with you anymore. I wonder if it was on account of Tilley." Caleb's eyebrows twitch. "No, scratch that, Gordon wouldn't give a shit about Tilley. Javits must'a just gone after you on account of, you know." He smirks. "You deserve it almost as much as Keith." You put a fist to his mouth, but he just grins at it. "Then this other guy," you continue, "Terry or something, has blue hair here—" You swipe your palm across the brim of your ball cap. "He comes in and is all talking how I'm s'posed to come out to his place and talk about Chelsea's pussy some more." Caleb's jaw sags. Then he falls back onto the bed and howls at the ceiling. You jump on him and pound him on the stomach until he stops. "Oh, fuck me, man," he gasps, and wipes away some tears. "I really need to hook up with you again at school, it sounds like. Gordon, you magnificent bastard! It sounds like he's going around talking about— Phfwaauugh!" He burst out laughing again. "I bet he's dishing out every detail about her pussy! What it feels like, smells like, how wet she gets, how tight she gets around his fingers! And he's telling them all this—" His mouth twists up. "While looking like you!" "They'll all think I'm delusional!" "No, they'll all think he's a fantastic porn writer! Anyway, that's not you anymore, so what do you care what happens to Will Prescott?" You blink at him, then throw yourself onto the bed in a sulk. Because he's right. Will Prescott and you are different people now. Or are going to be. "Don't take it personally, Will," Caleb says. "Gordon's the one making himself look ridiculous, and he deserves it." You turn your face to the wall. "Anyway, I got news from the guys," Caleb continues. "Bhodi's gonna help them out. He's gonna get with Andrew Webb, that soccer player, and get Andy swapped in for him. Andy for Andrew, I mean. Christ, that sounds like a comedy routine waiting to happen. But after that, they figure they can get the others, since Andrew's more plugged in than them." You nod. "Jesus," Caleb says. "Let it go." "Let what go?" Caleb punches you in the shoulder. "The whole Gordon being a sick doofus thing. Think about the future! I thought you were totally into helping out Dickerson and them." You shrug. He lets you stew for a minute before speaking again. "So are you having second thoughts?" You groan. No, you're not having second thoughts about helping the sophomore boys, and you're not having second thoughts about letting Gordon have your life while you grab yourself another. It's just that you hate what it looks like Gordon is doing to you. "Hey, it looks stupid to us," Caleb says when you share these misgivings with him. "But that's only 'cos we both know you, and we know how— Uh—" He breaks off as you glare at him. "It would be really funny," he resumes, "if it was you talking about Chelsea's pussy and going mano-a-mano with Javits. But it doesn't sound like anyone else is laughing. Maybe they think it's kind of cool." "Pfft." "Anyway, I don't know what you think you're gonna do about it." You don't know either. So after indulging in one last deep sigh, you pick up a mask and suggest that you finish up as many of the dumb things as you can. * * * * * Caleb sticks with you until ten, and together you polish up most of the masks and make a few more brain bands while keeping the TV on low in the background. You're still restless after he's gone, though, and are careless enough to step out into the night to get a soda from the machine. That's how you run into Kim again outside the office. "Oh, hey," she gasps. "I didn't know you—" She catches herself, and you shrink back as she peers at you closely. "I didn't know you were still hanging out here." "Just for another day or two," you croak. "Uh huh." She compresses her lips, and her eyes deepen with concern. "Will," she says, "I know it's none of my business, but I have to ask. Is everything alright for you at home?" "Yeah! Sure! I'm only staying here 'cos— Um—" What was the excuse you gave her? The lines around her eyes tighten. "Because I know you're denying it at school. You're telling everyone you're not staying here. I'm sorry," she adds. "I should have respected your privacy and not said anything about your being checked in here. But I didn't think—" She hesitates. "I didn't think anything was wrong." "Nothing is wrong!" Disbelief shows in her eyes, and she glances over her shoulder before stepping up close and looking up into your face. "Will," she says, "you know we have resources at school for kids who are ... in trouble. Having trouble. I know you don't think they're for you," she adds as you stiffen. "Or for kids like you. I've met your family, and you all look, um, almost like stereotypes for the nuclear family. But those resources are for everyone. And they're totally confidential. No one would ever know that you talked to someone." Flop sweat has now broken out all over your body. "I'm fine, Kim," you croak. "I just need a few days by myself to, uh, get my head together about something." You sweep off your cap and fluff out your stiff hair. Kim holds your eye, then beams at you. "Sure. I'm glad that's all," she says. "And you know, I am your friend, even if we don't talk that much. So, if you ever just need to talk, or want to hang out, or go see a movie, just get with me or with a pack of us, you only have to ask." She twitches the front of your shirt, and you jump a little inside. "Thanks. Um, I might. But right now I'm just on my way to get a soda." "I'll let you go, then. I'd offer to pay for it myself, but soda's are our profit margin. I'm kidding," she adds as you stare at her. She smiles and sweeps past you to the office. * * * * * "So what was wrong with the Donna?" Caleb asks you the next day when he catches up to you at the Layzee-Nites motel, where you'd checked in that morning. "The manager was giving me shit. Also, I've stopped eating at the diner. Meanwhile—" You proudly sweep an expansive hand toward the bed, where you have all the masks (now polished) and most of the brain bands (most of them done) spread out. "Nice," Caleb says. "Guys'll be happy about this. I need to pick a couple of them up, in fact. Bhodi's set it up for Andy to make a swap this afternoon, and I think they're gonna try for another one tonight. Oh, if you ever wanna move back over to the Donna, I can tell you all about what you've been up to in and out of school." His guffaw makes your blood run cold. "So," he says as he settles onto the bed with a mirthful expression. "You know that 'Gordon'" —he makes air quotes— "got kicked off the basketball squad after turning into a pot-smoking goofball. Well, the team was just going to elevate someone from the JV squad— Oh, and I got most of this from Carson and James, by the way, who are giving each other hand jobs because they're so freaking excited about everything that's going on. But I got confirmation from other sources. Yeah, yeah, I know, get on with it," he laughs. "So they were going to elevate one of the JV players, but then the coaching staff got wind that a couple of guys from Eastman are going to be transferring over to Westside, and get this, it's some of the guys on the Eastman basketball squad who are going to be coming over, and they'd be very interested in joining the Westside team. Well, one thing leads to another, and next thing you know the squad is holding private, invitation-only tryouts so the Eastman guys, and any Westside guys who are interested, can try to get onto our squad. To get an invite, though, you have to do some kind of audition for Steve Patterson." He makes a face at the name of Gordon's best friend and fellow goon. "So what's this got to do with me?" Caleb turns puckish. "So who do you think one of the guys is who's trying out for a spot on the team?" It takes you a moment to catch on. "Gordon?" "No. Will Prescott. And guess what, he got an invite. Patterson liked his moves enough that he's going to let, uh, you attend the actual try outs." "Jesus!" "Yeah. And that's how you got in a fight with Javits, 'cos he was giving you shit about it. Ha! I hear Javits got the worst of it, too." You cover your face with your hands. "Also, I should mention that I ran into Dorothy Harmon at the Donna when I was looking for you over there. She was asking if you were going over to—" He frowns. "Colson's? Anyway, some party tonight." * * * * * After Caleb has gone, you ponder the possibilities. Kim Walsh has her finger on the pulse of the school. The basketball squad would be a good blind to watch Gordon from. But they'd be hard to get to—maybe these people like Colson he's hanging out with would be easier to get. Or maybe as a random replacement at school you could edge up to Gordon. * To pick Kim Walsh: "Preparing for a Kim-personation" * To pick someone close to Gordon: "Anyone for Tennis?" |
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