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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Return of Gordon Black"  Chelsea calls you early the next afternoon--it turns out she has to church too, so this is the earliest for both of you to get together--but she's not able to secure the school loft for a meeting. "Steve wants to get together with Gordon," she tells you. "I could make him say no, but maybe I should keep him in character?" Odd that it sounds like she's asking you, but you agree, and give her directions to the elementary school. Caleb calls about fifteen minutes later, to see about getting together for the afternoon, but you coolly tell him you've got other plans. Chelsea meets you promptly at the appointed time. Her expression as she surveys the basement tells you she's not impressed with it--it is cold, dank, greasy, and smells like old iron--but she seems to accept it as a suitable work space. "I've gone through the spells again," you say, indicating the work you spread out on the old conference room table that dominates this side of the room. "I was paying real close attention to see if I could see anything that might, uh, be useful in figuring out what to do about Gordon." It's a lie--it took all your concentration just to get the spells done. "And I got that page to turn, the one I told you I couldn't get to?" "Uh huh?" "Yeah. I don't know what the problem was. But I thought we could go over it together. You know, it might be a way of fixing, uh, your boyfriend." "Sure," she says. But though she sounds interested, she doesn't sound excited or desperate, the way she sounded yesterday and on Friday night. "How is Gordon doing?" you ask as you measure out spoonfuls of powders and liquids. "I mean, the one we, uh, got back." "Fine, I guess." She shrugs. "He still can't remember anything since-- But he can fake it. And he does everything I tell him, which is kind of an improvement." You avoid looking at her face as she says that. "If this spell cures him, what do you think he'll remember?" "I don't know. Probably everything up until he set himself on fire. I don't know if he'd be able to remember anything that happened after that." "He can fake that too if he has to," she sniffs. "It's not like he's got a wild and varied life." She snorts and mutters a word that sounds like Basketball. She bends over to peer into the bowl of ingredients that you've mixed. "Is this the same stuff he used in his spell?" "It seems to be." You briefly cross-check the ingredients. "Yeah, and here it says it needs hair." She undoes a strand of her own. "We should probably use mine again, since he used it in his thing. Ow," she says as she plucks a few hairs out. You take and drop them into the bowl, then return to the book and your notes. "Hrm. It says we need to put it into a finished mask." You look at the two masks at hand--the one you made and the one Gordon made, which looks to be half-finished. "How long does it take to finish these things?" "Gordon says he spent hours working on that one," she says, pointing. "He finally just said 'Fuck it.'" "Then we should use this stuff on the mask your boyfriend is wearing." "What if it breaks it?" she says in alarm. "Maybe it'll pull that shit off him and cure him," you suggest. "It's the same stuff he put on himself." Chelsea runs a tongue over her lower lip, then shakes her head. "Too risky," she says. "Until we figure out what it does, I'm not putting it in the mask." You sigh. "Then I guess we need to finish up one of these." She snatches up the half-finished mask before you can move on it. "I'll take this one," she says. "You finish the other one." And that's the end of your day with her. * * * * * "So, whadja do this weekend?" your friend Keith asks you the next day. It's the start of second period, and Mr. Hawks is still sorting through the day's lesson plans. "Caleb wanted to see if you wanted to see a movie." "He coulda called me." "He says he did, says that you were doing other stuff. So he called me. Not that I mind being the back-up unit," he adds with some acidity, "but it makes me wonder why the main Prescott unit was out of commission." "If you must know, I was with a girl," you say, feeling a little smug. Of course, Chelsea would kill you if you mentioned her name. Not that Keith would believe you anyway. "Oh, did your mom take you clothes shopping?" he asks. "No, I spent the weekend with your mom, and by the way, she says tell you I'm twice as good in bed as you are." He turns red. "Well, it can't be Lisa," he sneers, "because Caleb and me saw her and Geoff at the theater. I guess after the way she blew you off, you'll wanna keep the new one under wraps." You shove a middle finger at his face and turn around. * * * * * Are you keeping a girl under wraps? Technically, you are. Sort of. You saw Chelsea in the hallway just before class, but carefully ignored her. She ignored you too, but not in her usual, oblivious way. Naturally, you have to tell yourself, nothing is bound to come of this partnership of convenience. You haven't got a fix for Gordon yet, and you're pretty sure she'll blow you off afterward, even if you do you get one, and despite her promise to "make it worth your while." That's just the way she is. And yet, you can't help hoping--fervently fantasizing--that something might develop between you. That she might, maybe, become a little fond of you, might see that you're actually a sweet and decent guy. Maybe get a little crush on you? No, impossible. If you want that kind of attention from her ... Well, what if you could get under that mask of her boyfriend? You'd have to play dumb, pretend to be just that robot-thing that's wandering around in Gordon's place. And if she found out it was you and what you were doing-- Yikes. But if you did get under the mask, even briefly, even without getting together with her... Well, you'd be able to get at Gordon's memories, and you'd at least be able to "remember" what it's like to be with her. You have to crouch in your desk to control your stinging, throbbing erection. * * * * *
And maybe these fantasies bring about karmic retribution, for just after fifth period a strong arm closes around your neck, and you're dragged backwards through the halls into a bathroom, where you're shoved into a stall. "Message from Chelsea," Gordon tells you. "She wants to know how that project is going."The mask? "It's coming," you croak. "It takes awhile. Another ... day? Two days? How is hers coming?" "She doesn't tell me anything." He crosses his massive arms and holds your eye. Then he leans in close. "You touch her, and I'll stomp you into hamburger." I guess she forgot to tell him to be nice to me, you reflect as he leaves. Oh, hell, that probably was him being nice to me. * * * * * "I heard you had a run in with Gordon Black," Caleb says, leaning in close to you at your locker. It's Wednesday morning--two days after the toilet-side conference with the captain of the basketball team. It says something about how peripheral you and Caleb are to school social life that it has taken that long for gossip about it to filter from you to him. "What was it about?" "He caught me looking at Chelsea. Or he thought he did." "What did he do to you?" "Told me to stop it." You don't bother to hide your irritation. Caleb has been avoiding you for awhile now, it seems, and his sudden interest in your well-being vis-a-vis Gordon fairly reeks of ulterior motives. The motives of a guy who stole your face and tried using it to steal Gordon's. Probably with the same idea that you've lately had, of using Gordon's identity to squeeze up close to Chelsea. Caleb is staring closely at you. "He didn't punch you out or anything, did he?" he asks. "No blank spots? You didn't wake up on the floor feeling like you'd been slugged?" "No. But speaking of blank spots--" You round on him with a glare. "Whatever happened to that screwy book? That's the last blank spot I remember--when you were at my place with that thingy." His expression tightens, but he returns your stare evenly. "There wound up being problems." He hesitates. "How about we get together at my place this afternoon?" "For another round of 'Truth or Fuck Me in the Head'? I'll talk to you about it later." You slam the locker shut as the bell rings, and brush past him hard. Maybe he finally has a bad conscience over what he did to you--or maybe news that Gordon was interested in you has given him a fright. Maybe you should get together with him and see what he has to say. Before you can, though, you get another summons from Gordon, this time via text message: "Chelsea says 5 above the gym." Next: "The Next Spell" |
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