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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Girl Who Likes Mischief"  You just gave the game away, Will. That's what Sydney said, and she's right, isn't she? You can feel the guilt on your own face. But that doesn't mean you have to confess to everything. "Okay, I don't know what's up with Caleb," you tell her. It comes out as a stammer, for you're improvising desperately. "But yeah, the thing with the key was a trick we cooked up. Well, that he cooked up. You're right, he called me ahead of time, told me to bring the wrong key and pretend it was the right one. Um—" You squint at her. "You have any idea what it's about, since I don't?" She puts her chin in her hand and returns your squint with a squint of her own. "Are you sure you don't?" You roll your eyes. "Seriously, I don't," you insist. "Caleb's gotten kind of weird lately. He's pissed some of us off, his friends, I mean. It's like he's in some kind of trouble but he's not telling anyone what it's about. So, you know—" You fix her with your most sincere look. "If you can tell me something about what's going on with him—" Then you break off. "Uh, are you seriously interested in him?" you ask. It's a very blunt question, but you're baffled by the fact that this ex-cheerleader has been paying Caleb so much attention. "Why wouldn't I be?" she parries. "But you don't know anything about that basement?" "Just what I told you." "Does he have a key to it?" You hesitate, not knowing where the best answer lies. "I don't know. I don't think so. It was my lock and my key. But, you know, he might've got the key off me and got a copy made. I wouldn't know or remember." You squint at her again. "You think he's got something to do with that fire down there?" She settles back in the booth and gives you a very long, very steady look. "But you do have a key to that basement, right?" she says. "Do you mind going out there with me and looking around?" Too late do you now see the cul-de-sac that you led yourself into. You can only shrug and say, "Sure. But," you add, rallying to secure yourself some kind of profit, "can you tell me what's going on?" * * * * * "So I guess that settles it," Sydney says, pointing at the flaming pile of dirt. "Caleb does have a key to this place, and he came back here and set it on fire again." You'd be staggered, except that her words are just the punctuation mark on everything else she shared with you on the ride out to Acheson. She caught him at it last Saturday night. Or more accurately, though she doesn't know it, she caught you at it last Saturday night. She saw you out at the cemetery, filling bags with dirt, and followed you out to the school where she watched you set the pile on fire and stick your arm in it, up to your elbow. But because you were wearing that mask of Caleb, she thinks it was him. And what was she doing out at the cemetery? She refuses to say. "Well, I don't know what's going on here," you tell her. You've put yourself between her and the fire, so that she won't get too good a look at it. "Maybe it's some kind of secret science project?" "It's some kind of project," she agrees. "Is it any of our business?" She gives you a look. "Do you like your friend keeping secrets from you?" You flush. "Well, it's not like I tell him everything I get up to!" "You don't?" "No! Like, do you want me telling him about me meeting up with you? About us coming back out here and breaking in?" She sucks in her upper lip. "Do you think he'd tell you what was going on?" "Why are you so interested?" She darts you a brief glare, and tenses all over. Then she relaxes. "I'm just a snoop, I guess," she says, but her laugh sounds forced. "And I like guys who get up to mischief. Do you, uh, mind that I'm so interested in Caleb and his projects?" "Well, no. It just seems kind of—" "Kind of what?" "I dunno." You glance around. "Maybe we should get out of here before we get caught." * * * * * The afternoon's twists leave you feeling faint with anxiety. You knew there was a risk of getting caught. You're glad it wasn't someone from the community center, but the fact is that one of your classmates knows that there's something funky going on in the basement. That she is trying to pin it on Caleb means that things aren't as bad as they could be. But it's going to be bad enough if she keeps trying to get Caleb to come clean about something that he's not involved with. Before parting with Sydney, you tried to get her to lay off Caleb by telling her that you would discreetly probe him to find out what was going on. She agreed, but late in the afternoon you find out what her promises are worth when you get an angry phone call from Caleb. "God damn it, Will," he fumes. "Why are you trying to fuck things up for me with Sydney?" Your heart tries to squirt out the front of your chest. "How am I trying to fuck things up?" "You met up with her this afternoon and told her some bullshit story about— Something to do with the key to that fucking school basement!" "Huh? What did I tell her?" "You tell me! Something about how I told you to bring the wrong key out there this morning. Jesus, Will, what are doing?" Damn you, Sydney! "Oh, that. Um." You twist on your feet, grabbing at any stray idea that zips across your mind. "I was just, you know, trying to get her interested in you. Make you a man of mystery, or something." "By what?" He sounds strangled on his own outrage. "Well, um, did she tell you she met me up at the Crystal Cave? Yeah, um, she accused me of bringing the wrong key when we met up out there. Like, on purpose. She said she thought you called me up and told me to bring the wrong key." "Where the fuck did she get that idea?" "Beats me, man! You'd have to ask her! But that's what she told me and I thought, well, fuck it, I'll tell her that's what you did, make you out to be, like, secret agent man, or something." There's a very long pause on the other end of the line. "Hello? Hey Caleb, you th—?" "Are you in a fucking special ed program for dipshits or something? What kind of a—? Keith! That's the kind of mindfucking stupidity I'd expect from Tilley! But from you?" "Hey, it got her interested in you, didn't it? She's fascinated by you, isn't she?" You feel yourself getting hot all over. "She thinks you set that fire down in there, she thinks you got secrets and are, like, into mischief and stuff. She likes that, she told me. She likes guys who are into, like, fucking stuff up." "Then she should be into you!" he hollers. "'Cos—!" Then he catches himself. "Look, just don't try to do me any more favors, okay? My life is weird enough lately without you trying to help!" The line goes dead. But he's not done with you, and a minute later you get a text: wtf she thinks i made that fire? who gave her that idea? You tell him to forget about it, then send Sydney a text of your own: just leave caleb alone ok u freak him out w questions. Her reply (when it comes an hour later): Ok I'll leave it in your capable hands, Will. You scowl at her text, unsure if she's being really sarcastic or really, very, ultra-sarcastic by applying the word "capable" to you. * * * * * There are no more tremors that day, or Sunday morning. But you're in no mood to deal with any more shit involving Sydney or Caleb, so you deliberately leave your phone behind when you drive into town to get away from things. Keith is busy with some kind of extra-credit assignment for Mr. Hawks's class, so it's you and you only who hit a couple of comic book shops before making your way up to the mall. You're cruising up and down it, trying to decide where to go to next, when you hear your name shouted. It's Carson Ioeger. And, as ever, James Lamont is with him. "Supply run," Carson says when you ask what they're doing up at the mall. "You?" You shrug. "Supplies for what?" you ask. "School project or something?" "Something," James snaps. His glance is unfriendly. But Carson's glance has turned appraising. "Are you a gambling man, Prescott?" James says, "No," so you snap out a "Maybe!" "How are your acting skills?" Carson asks. "If he's going to do this," James says, "don't tell him what it is." "What is it?" you can't help asking. Your classmates exchange a long look. "Mischief," Carson finally says. "Come find us tomorrow if you're interested in some risk-free mischief." He won't tell you any more, though, and you're left glaring at his back as he and James saunter off. The word mischief is echoing in your head, though, which gives you a really wild idea. Carson and Caleb have the same basic build, and you could almost believe that someone who didn't know them well might mistake them for each other. And Carson has a well-known taste for mischief that Caleb doesn't. Maybe you could distract Sydney—set her on a false trail—if you told her that it was maybe Carson, not Caleb, that she saw in the school basement last weekend. That's all for now. |
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