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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Mixed Doubles"  by Masktrix “Start warming up, I’ll handle this,” you say to the team, a teacher’s command that cannot be disobeyed. Carmen Acuna’s natural motor whisks you to Ian’s side, and you come to a halt just in front of him. “What are we going to do, Shell?” Ian says, hunched and panting. “I saw her heading to the gym.” Right. If you were Carmen Acuna – and you kind of are – you’d go to your office to collect your tennis bag. Which is, of course, currently where Kelsey and the others are arguing. You take a deep breath and try to think. There’s nothing you can do about the trio right now. You can’t really hope to delay Coach Acuna, either. So, Carmen’s ordered mind says, compartmentalize. Focus on what you can change. Even if that burns every bridge you have. “Ian,” you say, “listen to me. I’m not Shelly. I’m Will.” The freshman rises back, suddenly wary of, not to mention disgusted by, you. His jaw steels but he says nothing. “I’m sorry I led you on. The only chance we have of keeping this secret is to take off the mask. I’m going to be out cold. I promise, you can trust me. We’ll talk it through with Shelly tonight.” Ian looks at you like you’re his worst enemy. Like he wants you dead. Like he’s going to summon his cousin to obliterate you. “OK,” he finally agrees. “I’ll help you. But I’m telling Shelly everything.” You nod and both rush to one of the hall doors, then into to the boys’ locker room, where you lay down. Then you say the magic words and pull, hoping that, somehow, you’re going to make it out of this situation intact… You wake in the locker room with a splitting pain on either side of your head, as if someone has stabbed you twice with a knife. Reaching up to your ears, you feel the sticky wetness of seeping blood and the cold metal of a stud. You forgot about the earrings. Carmen Acuna has punched ears, but Will Prescott does not… or at least, did not. Your fingers try to fumble through the discomfort and pull off the clasp to get the studs out, but your arms keep being pinned back by something. The bra. You pull off your top, break loose of the bra that’s constraining your torso and, arms now free, pull the studs out. A walk to the mirror reveals a pathetic sight: a topless, exhausted Will Prescott, a a thin river of crimson trickling down each lobe. The mask! You relax as you see it’s there on the ground, Carmen Acuna’s identity imprinted inside. Ian, however, has gone. Step two. You rush up to the coach’s office, hoping not to run into anyone. Luck holding, you shove Acuna’s clothes where, you assume, Shelly stole them on Friday, and pull out your own backpack to get changed. Then, checking your ears aren’t bleeding too heavily in the glass of her door, you throw the mask inside and head to the tennis court, pack over your shoulder. There, three girls and one very confused coach are arguing about the session and what Ian Cowdray wanted – something that Coach Acuna pleads complete ignorance on. The four are just arriving, again, at the compromise session you bluffed earlier when your presence is noticed. “What do you want?” Kelsey says directly. “Oh my god, are you bleeding?” All four turn to look at you. “Just a little,” you say. “It’s nothing. I…” “Will, go get the first aid kit in my bag,” Coach Acuna interrupts. “I will, in a moment, just…” “William. First aid. In my tennis bag. Now.” You nod and go to the bag, fumbling around inside before you pull out a pack of blue tape. “Ugh,” Lynette says, wrinkling her nose and laughing simultaneously. “Did you try and punch your ears?” You ignore the comments and stick the tape on, the Coach looking at you with concern, the trio of white-clad rich kids with disdain. Then, putting the tape away, you casually scoop up something from her bag. “Hey, coach,” you call out. “I’ve been mentoring this freshman, Michelle Nolan. She said she lost her carnival craft mask on Thursday. This isn’t it, is it?” *** The world of Westside is still oblivious to magic, and you’re now racing to Acheson. Ian Cowdray has pedal power or must wait for a bus. If you’re lucky and Shelly hasn’t read his texts – which seems entirely plausible – you might be able to get there first and talk to Shelly. Might. But even if you do, it’s possible Ian has called his cousin Rich, too. And if that’s the case, everything you’ve stumbled across is in peril. This whole weekend has been one disaster after another, leaping from loose plan to loose plan at the whims of a freshman witch who really doesn’t think things through. Now, after a long chain of events, it’s come together to shove you in a pile of deep shit. You’ve got no guarantees that Shelly will ever trust you again, and no guarantees that you can resolve the situation in a way that retains access to the book. Just attempting to do so is walking a tightrope. There is, of course, another option. There are four masks. One is your invented guise Ruth, in Shelly’s possession; and one, still unfinished, is in Shelly’s mom’s workshop. You have the other two. The first is a perfect physical and mental replica of Carmen Acuna. The second is primed and ready for an identity to take. If you aren’t certain you can talk to Shelly and Ian, maybe your best course of action is to use the mask. With it, you’re confident that you’d be able to steal the other masks, and the book, before the freshmen know what’s happened. A robbery and betrayal like that would almost certainly have the freshmen scrambling to tell Rich Austin, but they’d have no evidence and it’d sound like some fantastic hoax. Your coven, however, would be over before it even began. Next: "Explaining Yourself to Yourself" |
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