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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Acuna Matata"  by Mastrix You can’t keep up the pretense. Sooner or later, a girl as obviously smart as Shelly Nolan is going to figure out you’re stumbling around in the dark too. Right now she’s on too much of a high, but if you don’t come clean before she finishes up the next spell you have no idea what might happen. “There won’t be any lessons,” you say, Coach Acuna’s voice adding gravitas to your statement. Shelly stops dead in her rambling and is about to protest when you hold up your hands. “I don’t know anything about magic, really. I got the book at Arnholm’s for that stupid time capsule. Since then, it’s been yo-yoing back and forth. I lost it, got it back, then buried it in the capsule to get rid of it, only for Ian’s cousin and a bunch of other assholes to dig it up. Then they gave it to Ian, who gave it to you as a gift, and you bought it back to me. That’s all I know.” Shelly takes this surprisingly well. “So, I’m the first one who’s gotten the spells to work?” “As far as I know, you’re the only one.” Shelly fist-pumps the air. “What you’re saying is that I am the only witch at Westside High? This is even better! Not only is magic real, but I’m the supreme sorcerer!” She grips the backpack and pulls it close. “Oh, this is amazing. I need a coven! You’re in it, obviously, as the chosen one. And Ian makes three, which is a power number, and…” “Wait,” you wave her down before she rushes off at 100mph again. “Chosen one?” Shelly rolls her eyes. Once again, the power dynamic has shifted. “Come on, haven’t you read anything? Or seen Lord of the Rings? The first three movies, not the weird boring ones. There’s always a chosen one.” She pats the backpack and explains it to you as if you were a child. “This book is magic and is trying to get back to its master. That’s you – the only one in the whole chain who actually bought it. You’re the chosen one. No matter how far you run, the book is going to rebound back to you. So, obviously, you get to be in my coven or I lose the book. I’m the witch, you’re the chosen one, and Ian…” She trails off. “Is just someone with a crush on you,” you say. It’s the only explanation as to why he didn’t run a mile when he found the second Coach Acuna. “What? Ew, gross!” Shelly mimes sticking a finger down her throat to vomit at your suggestion. “He’s a friend. Like Sam and Frodo, or Poe and Finn. But we need him to make our power of three.” You want as few people involved in this as possible, but it’s hard to deny that Ian Cowdray is already in too deep. “Later. First, we need to come up with a plan about what we’re going to do with this book.” “MORE SPELLS!” Shelly says, virtually yelling above the din of the Dairy Queen, causing a few startled glances and laughs your way. “More… spells… in… uh, the, ah, tennis court.” You wince in embarrassment, which luckily just looks like a teacher’s exasperation at a hyperactive pupil. The attention dies down. “We have to plan what we do carefully,” you say. “This isn’t some TV show where you use magic for pranks. We could seriously mess up someone’s life. I’ve already had one person ask me to change a tennis session for them thinking I was Acuna. That kind of thing could happen at any moment.” “Which is perfect!” Shelly says. “I, or you, could be Coach Acuna at the new session and then use a mask on the player. Who is it? Someone that’d be fun to cosplay as?” “Kelsey Blankenship.” “See? Even I know who she is, she’s the freakin’ queen of the school! I think she’s rich, too. I would LOVE to be her, just for a day. Act like her, like I’m just the best, like I can do whatever I want. We’ve got to get a mask on her at the session.” “Hold up,” you say, wondering if the rest of your life is going to be reining a hyperactive freshman back. “You’re forgetting I can’t train someone to play tennis. I am not Coach Acuna.” “You’re fooling everyone here. And with the mind-reading spell you could be her. Or I could be. Or Ian could be, once we recruit him. I need to go home and study more so you’re ready! I have to be back soon anyway or my mom is going to freak out. This is gonna be so much fun!” Shelly grabs the backpack and pulls it, and the book, toward her. You grasp one of the shoulder straps and hold tight. “No way. I’m the adult here, I’m going to hold on to this.” Shelly narrows her eyes. “You’re just a senior, Will, and I’m a witch. I didn’t have to let you in to my circle, chosen one or not. Besides, I’m already working on the third spell at home, and I need the book to make the spell. It needs, like, a little strip of metal with runes on it. We are going to meet tomorrow morning. And then we’re going to plan how to steal Coach Acuna’s brain.” You feel helpless. You could probably stop Shelly from taking the book, but not without causing a massive scene – and you don’t trust her not to just tell everyone what’s going on. You let go of the strap. “Fine. Just give me your number first so I can reach you. We can’t conduct magic meetings in the back of the Dairy Queen.” “I know! I have a better place in mind. It’s private, and thematic, and it’s going to be freakin’ awesome. I’ll message you.” Shelly trades numbers with you then rises, taking the pack with her. “Oh, and seeing as I’m in charge now, we’re going to split the work evenly. So, uhm, start polishing the mask, please.” Your eyebrow arches as the mask lands on the table and slides over to you, a cloth with it. Then, with a yelled “Thanks, Coach!” for the benefit of your audience, Shelly Nolan is gone. *** You’re busy for the next few hours. First you head home, making a quick rush to the bathroom before any of your family catch sight of you. You strip, lie on the floor, say the magic words and pull off your face for the evening. When you come around, you return your mom’s sports bra to the laundry pile. The trainers, unfortunately, are another matter. “Honey, have you seen my pumps? I want to go to the park run tomorrow and I could have sworn I got them out ready.” You hear your mom saying to your father from downstairs as you skulk with them in hand. “No idea.” “Well, I put them right there.” “I didn’t move them,” comes a very calm reply. “I’m not saying you did! I’m just saying that someone did, because I didn’t…” While your father tries to ignore his wife’s shoe amnesia, you sneak across to the hall and toss your mom’s trainers messily in a corner. Fingers crossed she will assume someone kicked them there by accident and she just didn’t see them. Crisis averted, you turn your attention to the photos of the book, which you transfer to your computer and enlarge, all while polishing the mask. By the time 8pm rolls around, you’ve more or less translated the first spell. It’s about making the mask, and you wish you’d had the time to fully sketch out the sigils by hand as they’re way too tricky to complete based on the snaps. It’s a thought occupying your mind when you get a message. Group of us heading into town now. Welcome 2 come. Lin Pol’s text is a stark reminder that the world of Will Prescott didn’t grind to a halt just because you shapeshifted into a tennis coach for the evening. Really, you feel like you should concentrate on studying the book so you’re on par with Shelly – before she gets herself or someone else hurt. But, then again, perhaps a break back to reality is just what you need. And, you notice, the mask you’re polishing is already shining blue. Perhaps hanging out with Lin and company will present an opportunity to get a new face to call your own… Next: "Mix and Match and Masks" |
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