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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Becoming Braydon Delp"  "I have to take this," you tell Caleb as you get to your feet. "Gotta meet this girl." You tuck the grimoire under your elbow. "Gillian?" he says. "My mom. Braydon's mom. I'll call you tomorrow. You gonna be up by eleven?" "Don't you have church?" "Will Prescott does. Braydon Delp doesn't." He smirks. "You mean he doesn't attend the First Church of Goatfuckers?" You rub the side of your nose with your middle finger. * * * * * When you're in your car—Braydon drives a beat up old sedan that was maybe a luxury vehicle in the early oughts but is now just one cut above "junker"—you text Gillian back. something up this afternoon meet at 8? She ripostes with 4?; you compromise on 6:30 at Besandwitched. You rub your eye with the heel of your hand. Gillian Kiefer is going to be a serious distraction. She's already a serious distraction to Braydon Delp. Oh, he doesn't think of her as a distraction. He thinks of her as the most wonderful thing in his life. But she really does like to keep him off balance. Take the way she talks about him. Delp isn't her boyfriend. He's her "hubby," and she talks to other people as though he and she are already married but are content to live apart. Well, that's for the best. They shouldn't be moving in together, not while they're both still in high school, and maybe not for a couple of years yet, even if they're do wind up attending the local university, as they both plan. But Gillian really is content to live apart from Braydon. And there are days when, if he doesn't go looking for her at school, he won't see her at all. Sometimes they never so much as exchange a text over a weekend. Well, Braydon will send her texts. She'll ignore them. And she likes to flirt with other guys. Hard. She even goes on dates with them. Braydon has asked her if they have an "open relationship." She only laughs and says that if he wants an open relationship he'll have to have it with girls not named Gillian because she won't stand for that. Once, when he got jealous of all the time she was spending with Aaron Flood, he asked her if she thought she got to have multiple SOs while he (Braydon) didn't. She just told him not to be sulky. And then sometimes she will practically move in with him, not leaving his bedroom for hours and hours at a time, and giggling and playing with his ... appendages. You sink back with a groan. Gillian really knows how to keep a guy entertained and feeling good, even without touching the magic spots. But she seems to have a gift for knowing when he wants to do some serious studying, particularly of the occult stuff, for that's when she likes to pounce and make him pay attention to her. At least you've carved out an afternoon for yourself. Braydon hasn't got any homework, so you'll have five or more hours to start acquainting yourself with his library. * * * * * Thirty minutes after you get home, and are just settling in on Braydon's bed with a glass of OJ and a peanut-butter sandwich, the doorbell rings. You set your lunch aside with a sigh: Mrs. Delp is at work, and you're home alone. Gillian beams at you through the screen door when you answer the bell. "Hi." "Uh, hi." "Let me in? I notice your mom's not here." "She's at work." "Perfect. Let me in?" You unlatch the screen door. "I thought we weren't meeting until six-thirty." "Oh, we're meeting at six-thirty. But no one said anything about not meeting before then." Gillian Kiefer is only slightly shorter than Braydon, and Braydon is pretty short as it is. She has soft brown hair that she wears in a bob that curls out just under her earlobes. She has chipmunk cheeks and pert lips that curve naturally into a secretive smile, and her brown eyes glint and glimmer with mischief. Her bare arms are downed with light brown hair, and her wrists are wrapped with flimsy leather friendship bracelets. She has the cutest little overbite that she likes to play up when she's feeling puckish. She is obviously feeling very puckish now, for she has her hands clasped behind her back. "When's your mom get off?" "Five-thirty." "Plenty of time. You hanging out in your room?" "Yeah. Listen, Gillian—" You rub your forehead. It has gotten very hot where you're standing, like a blast furnace has opened up right behind you, and parts of you are getting rigid in a way that bodes ill for your willpower. "I'm working on some stuff—" "Homework? I can help you." "I don't need your help." "Don't you want me to help you?" "Well, sure, but—" "So show me?" She sways from side to side, like a little girl trying to tease her elders. "I won't come in if you don't invite me." Your resistance doesn't fold so much as it flops to the floor into a limp heap, like linen slipping off a clothesline. "Come on." You pull her inside and close the door after her. She leans against you, cradling her head on your shoulder, so you have to half support and half tug her toward the staircase. "What are you working on?" "My books. You know the ones." "Are you ever going to make me a love potion?" "What do you need one for?" "Silly. There's a guy that I want to use it on." You stiffen, and not in a pleasant way. "You don't need to use one on me." "Good, 'cos it's for another guy. I want him to be sadly, sadly in love with me," she goes on as you tense all over. "I want him to be so sadly in love with me that he can't even eat. I want him to waste away, sighing and sighing until there's nothing left of him but a ghostly sigh that lingers in the air." You're upstairs now, and she hops into your bedroom and onto your bed. "A sigh that lingers like a stain in the air over his bed." "Who is the guy?" "I haven't decided yet. But wouldn't it be poetical and tragical and romantical?" "You wouldn't feed me that kind of potion, would you?" She scrunches her nose, and does a double-take at your sandwich. "You don't eat enough as it is." She picks it up and peels back the bread to study the insides, then starts eating it. "I worry about you sometimes, Braydon," she mumbles around the peanut butter. "I give my food rations to starving children. Karmic investment to counterbalance the black magic." You fall onto the bed next to her and stroke her calf. "What are you gonna do while I read?" She chews carefully, and swallows, and sucks on her teeth before answering. "I could go down on you while you study. Would that help? It seems to me that having sex while studying black magic is a pretty natural combination." You roll onto your back with a groan. "I really am pursuing a project, Gillian." "You always are." "No, this time is serious. It's for someone else. They want me to do some research for them." It's the only way you can think of to maybe give you some space and time. "Who?" "That's confidential." "Bullshit." "It's true. They don't want me—" "How come? Who is it?" You sigh. "Just some guys." Her tone turns sour and skeptical. "You're not an expert on this stuff, Braydon." "I'm more of an expert than anyone else." "So what are they asking you about, and how come you can't tell me who it is?" "They're embarrassed." "You should be embarrassed." "It's just a couple of guys from school. They found this book and they want to know what it's all about, so they asked me to read it and explain it to them." "What book? Is it this one?" She picks up the paperback—Van Dunkel's Elements of Natural Magic—that you were starting to peruse. "This is yours, Braydon, I've seen you with it a hundred times—" "It overlaps with this other book. This other one is, like, more advanced or something." "Hmph. Well, how much are they paying you?" "Paying?" You blink. "Oh, God, Braydon! You're not doing someone else's work for free are you?" "I'm getting something out of it too! This other book, it's got stuff in it that's—!" "Well, I need to get paid, if it's going to be worth my time!" "Your time?" You can only gape like a landed fish. That chipmunk smile flashes onto her face. "Sure! I'm going to help you!" * * * * * She's finally exasperated you enough that you force her off your bed and out of your bedroom. "I said I was going to meet you at six-thirty, Gillian, and I'm going to meet you at six-thirty," you tell her at the door. "But—" "I really have to buckle down on this stuff. I'll have homework next week, and—" "Don't you love me anymore?" You pull her to yourself long enough to kiss her while fondling her butt. "I love you more than ever," you say when you let go of her. "So why don't you go make me jealous or something with another guy while I do this? That way we can both be mad at each other." You push her gently away and shut the door on her. Not till you're halfway up the stairs do you realize what you just said. And not until you're inside the bedroom do you wonder if maybe you should put Caleb on "distract Gillian" duties. He keeps talking about wanting to do something with masks and girls. Or maybe you could. That's all for now. |
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