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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Mask Is Dropped"  Partners? You're doubtful. But there doesn't seem any graceful way to refuse. You take her hand and reply, "Okay, partners." And maybe it'll work out. You'd like to hang out with Sydney anyway. There will be time later to decide if you're genuinely interested in being partners with her. It's almost pitch-dark in the basement. Your cell phone casts an acrid light that dazzles more than it illuminates, and the silent flames from the earthen mound paint the darkness in violet hues rather than dispelling it. But though the basement is so dark that you can hardly make out Sydney's face, it is also secret and ... intimate? A dark room for dark talk. Is that a line you read somewhere? "So what's this book you found, and how does it work?" she asks. "Whoa, hang on. I already told you a lot about it. What can you bring to this partnership?" She shrugs. "I've got some stuff. Some notebooks of stuff." She hikes herself up onto a table and swings her legs. "My dad left them to me." "What was your dad? A wizard? A warlock?" "He was a financial officer at Parsons Collegiate Media." She titters like it's the punch line to a joke. "Vice-president of accounting, or something like that." "Was?" you prompt her. "He died." She takes a deep breath. "About ... three years ago?" "I'm sorry." She shrugs again. "It was sudden. A car wreck. Anyway, he was part of a secret society, and he left a bunch of notebooks behind. I've been studying them, trying to figure them out. Trying to—" Again she takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Trying to figure out how to get back at the guy who killed him." "Wait, what?" It's like there's been a time skip, and the conversation has jumped several minutes ahead and changed subjects. "I thought you said he was in a car wreck." "It was a car wreck. But it was arranged." Her voice tightens. "Someone set it up so as to kill him." An instinct moves you, and you hop onto the table next to her. You like that she doesn't scoot away. "You know who did it?" you ask. "Yes. I don't have any proof, but this one guy made out real good after my dad died, and it's like he was waiting to collect." She kicks at the air. "So this book you have. Where'd you get it?" You'd like to hear more about the car wreck, but you figure that can wait. Besides, it's your turn in the confessional. "At Arnholm's. I saw you there, by the way, last night, just before your tutorial thing with Caleb. Oh, also—" You can't keep a note of pride from your voice. "That wasn't Caleb you studied with. It was me. Disguised as him." Your brag is met with the most deathly silence you've ever heard. Sydney finally fills it with only two words: "Prove it." "Mm. Well, you had a book with you, on tarot. Um," you continue as she remains silent, "we only got up to problem ... thirty-four? And you took part of a biscotti home." "Caleb could have told you all that." "Look, if you want me to show you, I can." "Please." You grimace. "The thing's back home, up in my room." "Convenient. What thing?" "The mask. It's a mask, kind of like a— Well, you know in theaters, those masks that are like part of the logos? They're white and one of them is laughing and the other is crying? It's like those. Except this one isn't laughing or crying. And it doesn't have eye holes." "How does it make you look like someone else?" So you explain the masks to her: how you cast and polish them, and put them onto people to copy them, and seal them up. You also talk about the metal bands that copy memories and personalities and talents—"It's how come I could do that calculus stuff with you. I'm a moron when it comes to math, but Caleb's kind of a whiz at it"—and how with the two of them you can perfectly imitate someone else. "Then it's just a matter of making sure they're not around when you show up. I tricked Caleb into staying up at the municipal library so I could meet up with you at The Crystal Cave." "But he's the one who suggested we change our meeting place." "No, that was me too. I talked him into skipping school yesterday. I told him he'd make a total idiot of himself if he tried talking to you in math class, and that he'd also look like an idiot if he didn't talk to you. So it was just best if he skipped school totally." You shrug. "Then I went to school as him." "Huh," she says, still sounding skeptical. "That was pretty smart of you. I still wanna see that mask, though." "We can go get it when we leave here. But what's this ley line stuff you were talking about?" She's not the only one who can change the subject. "Does that have to do with your dad's secret society and stuff?" "Sort of. It's one of the things his notebooks talked about. But a ley line is kind of like a power beam. You can tap it to do magic stuff. One line by itself isn't very strong. But if you get a couple of them and tap them at the same time or in sequence, you can do stronger stuff. And if you can intersect and close them up, to make a triangle or a pentagram—" She closes her mouth with a snap, and you realize that she thinks she's said too much. But you're not ready to let her change the subject back to you. "There's a ley line that runs through the cemetery?" "Yes. One of the focal points is in there someplace." "Focal points?" "If you're going to draw a line, you need two points, right? It's the same thing with ley lines. If you want to make a ley line, you have to establish two focal points for it to run through. One of the focal points is inside that cemetery. It's why I was out there, I was trying to find it. "Look," she continues, "I can't stay out much longer. I've got a stupidly early curfew. How long would it take you to show me this mask you've got of your friend?" "I live just a couple of blocks away. Fifteen minutes?" "Can you show me?" "Sure. But I'd rather bring it back here to show you. I don't want my parents catching me." She nods. It takes you a moment to realize she's giving you permission to leave right now. * * * * * Later. Your house. Your bedroom. Your bed. You're fully dressed, but you cradle your cock and balls inside your jeans as you stare up at the ceiling. It's nearly eleven, and you really should be in bed, but you figure that even with the lights out you'd be stuck staring sleeplessly at the dark ceiling. You took Caleb's mask back to the school and put it on. When you were awake again, you honked at her in Caleb's voice and told her a few more things you could better remember about that tutoring session. You told her about some of the things you've done to get Caleb in trouble. Then you'd taken the mask off and driven her back to The Crystal Cave to pick up her car. It was like the other night when you parted after the tutorial session. She was very quiet then, too. But tonight after you dropped her off and were standing in the parking lot, she hurried back over from her car and pressed up close to you. Lightly she brushed her lips against your chin, then stepped back. "I'm really glad we're going to be friends, Will," she said. You don't remember anything about the drive back home. You're amazed that you made it without running someone over or being run over yourself. I think I've got a girlfriend. It's like the thought should belong to someone else, but got the address wrong and settled in your brain instead. Someone else should be entertaining himself with that thought. Even when you were dating Lisa—and fuck her, you were dating—you didn't think I have a girlfriend. She was just Lisa, who I am going out with. But Sydney wants to be your partner. Sure, it's a partnership built on a shared interest in magic. But she shared secrets with you, just as you shared some with her. That's an intimacy between you that you have with no one else. And she kissed you. On the chin only, it's true, but it's a gesture that Lisa never made. You and Sydney are going to be partners. You're going to be friends. You are sharing one-on-one secrets. And she's not averse to ... affectionate touches. What else would you need in order for the two of you to be going out together? A public declaration? Ay, there's the rub. Sydney hasn't said anything about guys hitting on her. (But why would she tell you about that?) Maybe they are hitting on her. Or maybe they're waiting for her to find her feet and to stop being "a new girl"? But if she starts going out publicly with you, what's to stop some of the meatier elements from pulling you aside and suggesting for the sake of your dental health that you drop Sydney and let "other guys" have a chance with her? And what would Caleb think? Next: "Love Scene in a Cemetery" |
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