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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Girl Who Can Rout Two Guys"  Caleb holds the metal band in the palm of his hand as though it were a coiled snake. In fiery blue letters, his name floats above its surface. It looks like you were right in your speculations last night: the book has now taught you a technique to copy people's minds. If you put that band on, the way you put a mask on, you are pretty sure you would have all of Caleb's memories, and maybe more. Could you stand shattering his privacy that way? Could you stand to have your privacy shattered that way? But you're silent when Caleb asks, in a horrified voice, "Are we really going to use these things on each other?" And in that silence Gordon speaks. "You don't have to," he says, and his tone is dangerous -- or as dangerous as he can get Will Prescott to sound. "Not if you don't want to. But we're going to keep switching faces around. If you think you can keep pretending to be me without one of those things to help you -- " He chucks his chin at the thing Caleb is holding. "Go ahead, see how you do. If you fuck up, you're stuck with what happens." Then he turns to you. "What about you, Prescott? Want me to keep playing you this way?" You flush, but see his point. If Keith Tilley -- who's not your idea of a sharp knife -- has been picking up on your personality change, what have your parents been noticing? "I'll make one for me, and you can use it," you croak. You can't help noticing the way Gordon pauses before he replies. "Then I'll make one for you too." He turns to Caleb. But Johansson explodes before anyone can say anything to him. "Are you crazy? We don't even know if we can use these things at the same time as the masks!" "So we'll figure out if we can," Gordon retorts. "Let's check out the next spell, maybe that'll say something." He grabs up the book. Caleb goes to snatch it from him, and Gordon punches him in the throat. "Chill the fuck out, Johansson," your doppelganger says coldly. "What's your problem, you don't want us finding out you fantasize about little boys when you jack off? The fuck've you got in your head you're so ashamed to share?" Caleb turns almost black. "I just said I'll share my shit with you guys. We should all share, so it's equal." Caleb chokes, and when you try putting a hand on him, he jerks away. "I'm not ashamed of anything," he says hotly. He looks between you and Gordon. "I'd share my shit with a friend," he says. "Let's put it that way. I'd share it with a friend!" Gordon looks at him coolly, and looks at you, and looks back at Caleb. You shiver at his next words, because he's got your face and voice as he says them: "You mean we're not all friends?" Caleb swallows. So do you. "It's a little weird for us, man," you tell Gordon, and the absurdity is palpable since it would look like a very scared Gordon Black is trying to placate a very menacing Will Prescott. "You know, you never paid any attention to us before, except when -- " You shrug awkwardly. Gordon is very stiff, and only with his eyes does he look between you and Caleb. "Yeah, I guess I understand," he says. He looks back down at the book. "But fuck it. Let's see what the next spell says." Caleb gives you a haggard look, and you can only stare helplessly back at him. He is obviously trying to suggest something silently, but you can't figure out what that is before he gives up in palpable disgust and stalks from the basement. You listen for the sound of a car engine, but hear nothing, so you assume he's taking a walk to cool off. You sink back against a desk, and stare at your feet. "I think we've got everything here," Gordon says after a few minutes. "I'm going to try making it." You don't ask him what "it" looks like it will be, and you don't offer to help as he pulls out chemicals and mixes them. Mostly it's because you don't know what to say to him, but partly it's because you don't want to disturb his concentration. But after he's set the mixture on the sigil and set it on fire, and used the result to has turn the page to the next spell, you ask a very quiet question. "Are you our friend, Gordon?" He doesn't answer, doesn't look around. "This is perfect," he says nonchalantly as he looks between the page and the translation he's working on with the phone. "It's like a glue. You glue those metal things into a mask, and then you can copy everything all at once." "That's really convenient," you allow. "But would you answer my question? You asked if we're all friends. Do you think we're friends? Are you my friend?" "I don't know what a 'friend' is," he says, and still has his back to you. "I got people I hang out with. Lynch. Patterson." He pauses. "I guess Steve-o's a friend." "But not us? Not me?" Now he turns to look at you. His expression is hooded. "You did me a nice favor with Chelsea," he says. "I won't forget it." That sounds like all you're going to get from him. "Come on, let's get changed," he says. "I want to see Chelsea, and it's been awhile since you've been home." * * * * * He's gone when you wake up, and when you look out the window you see that Caleb's car is gone as well. You lay back on the desk where you'd stretched out and try to blink yourself more awake. You've got a pit in your stomach. The future doesn't look dark, exactly, but you've got the sinking sense that you're fumbling around in the dark, and that the farther you go, the more booby traps there are at your feet. But after a few minutes of lying there, during which no coherent thoughts will form, you get up. You've got a life to resume, and after dressing you return to a house you've not seen in a couple of days. Your parents haven't noticed your absence, though, and you're pissed to discover that Gordon hadn't warned you about the chores your dad had planned for you. You help with the yard and the gutters and the dusting, and you run an errand to the grocery store for your mom. You'd take some small measure of satisfaction in the fact that your brother has also been dragooned, but he treats you very blackly, with dark looks and muttered imprecations, and flinches when you get too close to him. You soon decide that Gordon must have put the fear of something awful into him, and it makes you feel guilty, and then it makes you feel angry for feeling guilty about something you didn't do. Gordon texts at around two o'clock, asking if you can meet him at the school; you have to tell him you're still busy and will text back when you're ready. bring your doofucky he replies, and you make a face. You're going to get the worst of both today, it appears: chores for your family, and a face full of Gordon Black's life when you're done with that. But at least -- maybe -- you'll have the memory of his afternoon with Chelsea. You hope it was a good one. Oh, hell, you hope it was a good seven or eight or ten. You're not done with chores until three-thirty, and even then you shower before heading out. While in the bathroom, you put one of the blank metal bands to your forehead, and sink into a brief oblivion. * * * * * "Does that seem solid to you?" Gordon asks as he turns his mask toward you. A metal band with his name -- GORDON GERALD BLACK -- is attached to its interior. "Let's take care of yours now." It's four-thirty, and you're in the gym loft with Gordon. He seems cheerful -- or more cheerful than you've seen him yet -- so you are now more than cautiously optimistic about having a nice set of afternoon memories when you're inside his mask. "Let me try," you say as he sets your mask and "doofucky" on top of one of the crates. It doesn't take any skill, you discover, you dab a line of glue onto the inside of the mask and set the band there. It bonds instantly. "So, I guess it's total disguises from here on out," you say, a little nervously you'd admit. "I guess so." Gordon sounds much calmer. "Get your clothes off." You pull off your shoes, but he just watches. "What about your clothes?" "I'm wearing them downstairs, I'll change in your truck. You can get into my locker to get you some shit to wear home." "Why? I mean, why change in my truck?" "Because I figure it's gonna be weird looking at each other, and I wanna put that off until Monday, at least. Don't call me before then, alright?" "Can I call Caleb?" "Why the fuck are you asking me permission? And why have you stopped undressing?" Good questions both, which you don't have answers to them. You finish stripping. Gordon takes your things and turns to go. But at the door, he pauses long enough to give you a very long wink. Your legs almost buckle. That wink was like a promise and an expression of gratitude both. Are we friends? you'd asked Gordon earlier. In that wink, you almost feel like he was trying to say Yes. Yes we are. Next: "Getting to Know All About You" |
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