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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Bedroom Play"  "I need to clean up the garden a little," you inform your visitors. To Charles: "Were you going to text people?" He stares at you, but you don't repeat the question. Instead, as you turn to leave, brushing Will's shoulder again with a fingertip as you go. You hope your beta is smart enough to understand the signal to follow you. He is, though you're already picking your way through the vegetable garden before he appears. It's a small garden, but it takes up most of the tiny back yard, between the back door, a work shed, and a wooden fence. Will teeters on its borer while you on bare feet work your way down the rows, pulling at the few stray weeds that have popped up since Andrea last worked it. "Is Charles texting people?" you ask him. "Yeah. I guess so, he's on his phone." "Did he say anything to you?" "No. He didn't even look at me." "He's in shock. He's probably still trying to decide whether he actually saw what he thinks he saw." Will kicks at the dirt. "Um, what was that he saw, exactly?" "What was what?" "What we did. In your bedroom. Andrea's bedroom." He reddens. You smile. "What did it feel like we did?" He rolls his eyes. "I mean— Well, what did it mean? Why did we—? Were you just—?" His Adam's apple wobbles. "Was I just what?" "Oh, fuck you, man." "Yes, that's what we did." But he doesn't laugh at the joke. "It was for Charles's benefit," you explain. "A little scandal, something to give him to tell people. Something for them to chew on. Andrea slept with you, Will Prescott. That'll make them interested in you. Hopefully, it'll give you a lot of credibility with them." His eyes blaze with excitement. Then they dim as he realizes the implication: Giving him "credibility" was the only reason you let him fuck you. "Just keep playing it cool," you tell him. "You know, casual. We're going to have eight or twelve or ... I don't know, fifteen people over here pretty soon. Lot of girls. Pay attention to them. Talk to them. Listen to them. Pay attention to them and ask questions. But not, you know, in a desperate or creepy—" The back door opens, and Charles steps out. He squints at you, but stays out of the back yard. You straighten up and press the plucked weeds into Will's hands. "Go put this in the compost pile over by the shed. Stay back here and look around while I go see what Charles wants. You're awfully sweet," you add as you squeeze his hand. "Drea, how many people do you want?" Charles calls out as you approach. "I don't know. How many people do you want?" He rolls his eyes. "I get the impression you'd rather not have anyone over." "Really? What gives you that impression?" He snorts, and drops his voice to a murmur. "The hell, Drea?" "What's wrong?" "You tell me. I'm baffled." He turns and goes back in the house. "Charles has decided to be dramatic," you inform Will when you join him by the shed. "What does that mean?" "It means you should ignore him even harder, especially if you catch him staring at you. Here's how to play it." But then you pause, struck by how funny is it that you're giving your beta—an actor playing you—something like stage directions and motivation—in a performance staged for the president of the school drama club. "I was curious about you, that's all," you tell your beta. "I wondered what it would be like to go to bed with you. You got my attention with your—" You give him a quick, appreciative look up and down. "Your new look. It got me curious, and then I wanted to know what it would be like to go to bed with you. What you'd be like in bed, and what you'd be like after." A shiver runs through you. The words are welling out of you in a very natural way, rising from someplace deep inside. Is it you who are curious about how Will Prescott would do in bed, and how he'd do afterward? Or is it Andrea? What you did this afternoon ... Would she have done the same thing herself, if you hadn't interfered with her? "That's why I asked you out here," you stammer, "and after we did it— Well, I told you that's why I did it. I was curious," you repeat. "So you're not going to try hanging onto me. You know you were just giving me satisfaction." You like the sound of the phrase, so you repeat it for emphasis. "You were just giving me satisfaction. And you did." You squeeze his hand. And he's enough of a goofball that he actually struts as he accompanies you back into the house. * * * * * Charles has decided to make it one of the smaller parties, but he must have lit a fire under the people he texted, for they're not slow in arriving, and only thirty minutes later your living room is crowded with people. He has also, for reasons you can only speculate on, leaned on his gay and bi- friends to come out for it: Christian Padilla, Alexander Peloquin, Crispin Fontana, Adrian Semple and Tim Gerard. Even Jelena Petrovic, though female, counts as gay. And the only other girls there are the ones he had to invite or else it would look weird: Fatima Zahedi and Sienna Goldman and Nancy Trent. The only other guy there besides Will is Nancy's boyfriend, Lyle Offerman, a hipster-dude college student. You affect not to notice the narrow-eyed stare that Charles alternately fastens on you and on Will throughout the evening. If you're not especially proud or impressed with the way Will acts with the others, you are at least pleased. He is coolly friendly with the guys, and if he's warmer with the girls he doesn't make a big show of it. He's got one advantage, at least: Fatima and Sienna are more interested in him than they are in the other guys—maybe because he's fresh meat or maybe because they guess he isn't gay—and he doesn't have to impose himself on them, but lets them drift in and out of his company as the party wears on. Sienna in particular seems intent on him. No surprise there: Sienna likes guys, and she isn't shy about latching onto them. She pushes Will into a corner a couple of times during the evening, and scrunches up close to him. But she doesn't lay hands on him—it's not that kind of a party—and he keeps his own hands to himself. Later, when you find yourself in the kitchen alone with Fatima, you ask her, "What do you think of Will?" "He's nice," she says. "He doesn't talk a lot." "Maybe because he's too busy listening to you." She makes a face. "You think I'm talking too much?" "I'm not paying attention. I just notice him listening to you every time I look over." "You mean you catch me talking every time you look over." You glance around the corner into the living room. Will is sitting on the floor next to Tim, and the two of them are watching something on the phone that Adrian is holding up to show them. "Ask him to go for a walk," you urge her. "Around the block. Maybe he's just shy about talking in front of other people. Maybe he's a one-on-one kind of guy." "You're not trying to set us up, are you?" "No. Just trying to get him to mix." "Where did you—?" But she's interrupted by Sienna, who comes barreling in. "What kind of a sick-ass—" Then she breaks off to give Fatima a sour look. "Sorry." "What's wrong?" you ask. "Nothing." Fatima says, "I'll go mix," and slides out past Sienna— —who doesn't wait until she's out of earshot to hiss at you: "Why is it so gay in there?" "Take it up with Charles." "I'd like to. It's not a Friday night, but Jesus, Andrea. You need more of the right kind of guys out there." "I don't think Will is gay." "Tell it to Tim and Adrian." "Poor Sienna," you cluck, and she bridles. "Are you feeling outcompeted?" She snarls. "Why did Charles ask him out if he isn't gay?" "You'll have to ask him," you repeat. "Maybe he was hoping." And with that sly insinuation you slide out after Fatima. * * * * * After that you start to watch Charles more closely, and you start to watch his friends for signs that he has told them of the afternoon's scandal. But if he does tell them, he has also told them to keep it close, for you can pick up no change in their vibe during the evening. It's nearing eight o'clock and the party is showing no sign of winding down when you get a text from Maria Vasquez, which you take into the bathroom to read: Josiah wants to get together with you. Possible? It's a puzzling message, and not until your hand is on the doorknob does the explanation come crashing in on you. Josiah. Who is disguised as Chelsea Cooper. Who one night, when they were alone during her sophomore year, made out hard with Andrea Varnsworth. Which is who you now are. Next: "Unhappy Sequels" |
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