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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Runaway GF"  "I'll go with Lily," you tell Catherine after a fractional hesitation. "Why?" Her bluntness sets you back. "Well, why not? Is there a problem? If you don't want—" She laughs. "There's no problem, Will. I'm just curious." She cocks her head, and a soft quizzical smile spreads across her face. "Why her?" God, you're beautiful, you find yourself thinking. Oh, not in a sexy, supermodel sort of way. (Sydney, with her toned body and California tan, is closer to that ideal.) Catherine's beauty is softer, more gauzy. She has clouds of brunette hair, and wide-set eyes, and a gentle smile. There's a shy glint in her eye, a hint of ambivalence, as though she's unsure whether she'll like you or you'll like her, but she'd like to find out. Add to that her fat, rounded breasts—now tightly clasped in an athletic top—and her wide hips—encased in running shorts—and her strong, smooth legs. You slide your hand between her thighs, palming the warm skin, and she spreads them with a slight gasp. You lean over and kiss her again. But even though it's just you and her and a fake in the house, you pull back. It seems important to retain some degree of self-control. "How is that an answer to my question?" she asks after you've settled back on the sofa. "What question?" "Goose." She plucks a cheese slice up off the plate that her pedisequos left behind. "You did that just to shut me up." With a corkscrew smile, you bury your face in her bosom. She cradles your head there, even as she takes out her cell phone and thumbs a text into it. * * * * * On reflection—something you do a little later, in the bathroom, on the toilet—you decide it was Lily's "party hearty" attitude that recommended her to you. You didn't have a lot of fun at Catherine's place yesterday, as several people observed, both to your face and behind your back. But Lily did, and you'd like to have fun too. You'd like to have fun tonight, and it sounds like you'd be bound to have fun as her as she goes club-hopping with her friends tonight. You catch your reflection in the mirror you wash up afterward, and you can't help giving yourself a speculative once-over. What did Lily see when she looked at you? What did any of them at Catherine's party see yesterday? The literal answer is: a skinny teenage boy with a fading summertime tan, a smile that gets tangled up in its own teeth, a furtive and embarrassed gaze, and hair as yellow and stiff as the bristles of a broom. The best that can be said about your arms and legs is that they don't look like they'd snap too easily. And in your t-shirt and cargo pants and sloppy white ball cap you are completely anonymous. So you're the one that finally scored with Sydney, said that Chinese-American guy. Yeah, right. So what else did he his friend, and Raymond and Eli and all the other guys, see? They saw Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, a space alien—a thing so mythical that even as they stared at it in direct sunlight they couldn't believe it was real. They saw Sydney McGlynn's ludicrously improbable boyfriend. You sigh as you shut off the light and step back into the hall. You wondered last night in the car what Catherine saw in her boyfriend Michael. Well, what Sydney sees in you is invisible to others, and it had better remain invisible, given that it has to do with magic and murder. So maybe you and Sydney should break up? Not the real two of you, but your pedisequoses. You're in trouble with people like Blake O'Brien and David Kirkham, and no one can believe you're together anyway. "Hey," Fake-Sydney greets you from the bottom of the staircase as you tumble down it. "Boss-lady says to tell you that Lily's on her way out." "Awesome." You hesitate, weighing whether it's worth practicing a break-up speech on the pedisequos before suggesting it to the real girl. But before you can plunge in, the fake steps up to give you a hard peck on the lips. "What was that for?" you gasp. "'Cos we're still going together, at least until she gets out here. Right?" The pedisequos dimples at you. "Right," you mutter. But you feel awful as you say it, and crumple a little inside. So much for breaking up, you think, and you hate that it feels like a defeat. * * * * * Was Lily really on her way? She must have taken the long route, because it's another hour before the doorbell rings. She's so long in coming, that Real-Sydney has had to leave again, to hang out with her boyfriend and his gang. So it's just you and a thing that looks like your girlfriend when she finally arrives. "Hey, Will!" Lily exclaims when she sees you loitering in the entryway behind Fake-Sydney. "So you going out with us to Legends tonight?" "Uh, yeah," you croak. If you are, I am. "Awesome! You know, I was hoping— Here!" She tugs her cell phone from the front pocket of her skinny jeans. "Can you two skooch together?" she asks as she holds it up. You oblige, though you feel your expression freezing up. "You guys look so—!" Her eyes pop as she touches a spot on the phone. "Now let's get one of all of us together!" She squeezes in close on the other side of Sydney, and holds her phone far out to catch the three of you in one shot. "Relax, Will," Fake-Sydney growls at you. "The camera's not going to steal your soul." "Steal your soul!" Lily laughs after lowering the phone. "Will, do you not like having your picture taken?" "Grrmhmm," you mutter at the back of your throat. When Lily laughs again, you excuse yourself to the kitchen. The girls are deep in conversation when you return from getting yourself a glass of water. Lily is gabbling a mile a minute and chopping at the air with her hands while Fake-Sydney listens with a patient smile. They're not really friends, it suddenly occurs to you. The thought startles with its clarity. Lily's just trying to impress Sydney. And Sydney just as clearly is only indulging her. There's no spark between them. Am I the only real friend Sydney has? you wonder. "So hey, how about you show Lily that outfit," you suggest as you rejoin them, "so we can take off." Lily's eyes glint. "And he wants to go shopping with us! Trade you Noah for him." Your imposter girlfriend steers her by the elbow toward the stairs. "I saw him first." "You coming up, Will?" Lily asks over her shoulder as she mounts the stairs. "My mom doesn't like me having boys up in my room," Fake-Sydney says. "But she's not here, is she?" Fake-Sydney's reply is lost as they vanish upstairs. You pace the living room, wiping your palms on the legs of your pants, and wondering if you made the right decision. It comes back to you now what a chatterbox Lily was yesterday, how pushy she was at the party, and how loud she could be. She's also very stork-like, now that you've paid closer attention to her, being skinny and bony in the shoulders and hips and elbows, and with jutting cheekbones and chin. Catherine Muskov is very plush while still looking fit, but Lily is almost as stick-like as you and your friends. Well, it's too late now, and it's later even than you think, for Fake-Sydney surprises you by almost instantly reappearing at the head of the stairs. "We're ready for you, Will," she calls down. "Already?" "I didn't waste time. Do me a favor, sweetie, and try not to talk my ear off after you're her." * * * * * "We're getting her clothes off now," you tell Catherine as you help Fake-Sydney tug the last of her underthings off Lily. She had texted Lily's phone when she hadn't heard from any of you, and you called her back direct. "I guess, like, ten minutes and we'll be ready to come meet you someplace?" Catherine giggles. "What's so funny?" you ask. "Lily's never been on time to anyplace. Also, are you planning to get your hair and makeup done that fast?" Touche. "Well, you want to come back over?" "I'm busy with Michael. Oh, that reminds me, Noah's over here too, if you want to come find him after you're—" Again, she giggles. Your ears start to burn. "I thought we were going shopping. That's what we told Lily, to get her to come out," you remind her. "I didn't think you'd want to go along with it afterward." "So what am I supposed to do if I meet you where you are?" She laughs again. "I told you, Lily's boyfriend is here. You'll have ideas." Now your whole face starts to burn. "Wait a minute," you growl. "What are you getting up to with Michael?" "Whoops, gotta go! Call me later!" Fake-Sydney looks vastly amused as you toss the phone away. "It'll probably be a lot less embarrassing after you're looking like someone else," she tells you. You make a face, then glance past her at Lily. She looks better, now that she's naked, but as far as your hormones are concerned, that's probably true of most girls. She doesn't look quite so much like a rake handle, though her boobs are little bags hanging off the front of her ribcage, and there's very little meat down below. But (oddly) she looks slim rather than bony when she's outside of her clothes, and there is something gazelle-like about the shape of her legs and the curve of her long neck. On a whim, you pick up her warm hand and squeeze it in your own. It's coincidence, surely, but the mask chooses that moment to pop back out on her face. "I'll finish it up," Fake-Sydney says. "You can go in the bathroom and take off your clothes." Next: "Lily at Play" |
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