\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
    November     ►
SMTWTFS
     
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
Archive RSS
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/978078
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
by Seuzz Author IconMail Icon
Rated: GC · Book · Occult · #2183311
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises.
#978078 added March 14, 2020 at 10:02am
Restrictions: None
Window Shopping
Previously: "Freakin' TuesdayOpen in new Window.

by Masktrix

“That does sound good,” you confess. In truth, you’d quite like to be actual people, but neither of you are willing to cross the line such a permanent imposture would cause. The idea of taking the best traits of someone, making yourself an entirely new identity, is the best you can get.

The new Will, for his part, grins stupidly. “In that case, as you’re the Witch of Westside, you should probably be in charge of this.” He unburdens himself of the backpack, and you both get to work studying the Libra, exchanging snippets of the day. Apparently, Will Prescott’s standing is exactly where it was before. He won some credit for being in a mentor program no one else has heard about, and lost about the same with a rumor he tried to pierce his ears in the machine shop after classes. The new Will, high on life and living your dreams, even managed somehow to avoid being grounded. Which is just as well because…

“Where are we going to get 400 pounds of earth from a grave?”

“Masonic cemetery,” you reply after hours of intense study. “We’ll have to dig it up tomorrow.”

“I’ll get some shovels. Right now, I need to get going. Keith and I are going to see Howling Skies, and you’ve got to be up at the house for curfew. Seriously, Will, I know I’m not me anymore, but you better be doing my homework. Dad will flip out if my GPA slips.”

You reassure the former Shelly that her GPA is in safe hands. You’re more concerned about how to get out of her house for your cemetery expedition… but then maybe there’s a solution that means you can have some fun too. “Meet you at 9pm tomorrow,” you say. “And bring some spare clothes. Two Wills are better than one.”

***


Another school day, which feels easier. In fact, you resolve that you’re going to enjoy the experience. Yet the morning doesn’t go well. It turns out even a kid as bright as Shelly hits hurdles: you get a B minus in your Latin homework. You have enough experience to be sanguine – it’s a B minus in a class for juniors – yet you know Shelly would fixate on it. It’s practically a C. Which is only one letter off a D.

You fake annoyance at fourth lunch. Ian comes by briefly, but soon sees what kind of mood you’re in and doesn’t linger long. Instead, he reminds you that you’ve still got to get him out of detention for Thursday and Friday, then heads off.

“What was that about?” Helen Kim says, sitting down with a tray devoid of anything save a lump of tuna mayo and an apple.

“Nothing, he’s just being a freak,” Samantha Fletcher answers for you. “I know you’re friends with farmer boy, Shelly, but either his head is in the clouds or it’s up a cow’s ass, there’s no in between. Oh! And speaking of freaks, what did Erin Richardson do last week? No one will tell me.”

“Embarrassed the school,” Helen says. “She joined the East–West Club hoping for extra credit, and made the mistake of asking advice from a senior on how to shine. Some bitch on the cheerleading squad tricked her into making a ‘friendship banner’ that looked like the Westside dragon was taking a crap on the Eastman eagle. She unfurled it in the middle of club.”

All three of you burst out laughing. It’s an idea based on a drawing you’ve seen around school for years, although you wonder which of the cheerleaders could be so imaginative to trick a freshman into repeating it.

***


School is barely over when you enact your plan in one of the disabled bathrooms. Shelly Nolan goes in and Carmen Acuna steps out, dressed in casual clothes. You walk to her office, a skip in your step, and dial a number.

“Hello, is that Mrs Nolan? This is Coach Acuna from Westside High School. I can’t find your permission slip for Michelle to help at the tennis game tonight… Yes, Mrs Nolan, she volunteered as ball girl, but if she didn’t give you the slip, then obviously… Oh, you’re sure that’s fine?... Oh, no need to pick her up. As it’s an away game, we’ll drop off the girls at home… It depends on traffic, but we expect to have her back around 11pm. It’s late for a school night, but it’s the only way we can make the schedule work… Yes, that’s right… Thank you, we certainly plan to do just that. Go dragons.”

It’s not an away game at all, but Mrs Nolan’s desire to have Shelly fit in needs exploiting – as does the tennis meet. And so, while the real Acuna is in the changing room talking strategy with her three stars about how to demolish tennis minnows Adaburg, a false one borrows the keys from her drawer and walks to her car.

There are limits as to what you can do. It’s still too early for a night on the town, and you don’t want to go anywhere you might see a student. You half-think about going to your identity’s home, but her brother Paul lives close by and might see the car; he’ll wonder why you’re not at the game. You half-think about heading to her church and taking confession too – a spiritual cleansing the real Carmen takes both joy and comfort from, and one that will give you a rush from playing your temporary role.

Instead, you drive out to the Shoppes at Fell’s Lake, and spend a good half-hour window shopping from a spot outside Café Oro, a herbal tea in front of you. You see several accessories you’d like to own: the figure of a petite, dainty waitress you observe going about her day, wild dark hair gathered up in a bun above creamy skin; the perfect smile and cupid’s bow of a girl on a make-up counter, who you don’t recognize and must have gone to Eastman; the ridiculous natural fire burning from the eyes of an older blonde in a business suit, dragging what you assume is her husband around. Soon, any of these physical features could be yours.

“Excuse me.” A man about your apparent age is stood in front of you, cleanshaven and dressed in a loose wool-knit shirt. “I don’t suppose you have the time?”

You pull out your phone. “A little after six thirty,” you say, offering a friendly smile. The man stifles a laugh. You look down. You’re carrying Shelly Nolan’s cell, complete with Ravenclaw case decorated with stick-on stars.

“My niece,” you explain, chuckling. “She refused to take no for an answer.” For this little lie you tap into Acuna’s thoughts and feelings. Her niece takes after her father when it comes to a stubborn refusal to back down.

“Oh, I’m in the same club.” Your new companion fishes out a case with a soccer logo on it.

“You’re a fan of Manchester City?”

“I don’t even know where Manchester is beyond ‘somewhere in England’,” the man says. “But my nephew Jack is obsessed. Are they any good?”
“Very good. But, see, now we can’t be friends. I come from a long line of Manchester United fans.” You have no idea what you’re discussing, but Coach Acuna grew up in a soccer-obsessed family and is loyal to her Red Devils.

“We’re rivals?”

“Mortal enemies.”

The man shakes his head. “Well, can’t have that. How about I buy my mortal enemy another of whatever she’s drinking as a peace offering?”
A little flirting can’t hurt. “Do you promise all of your mortal enemies chamomile?”

“Of course. That way, if they fall asleep when I’m talking to them, I can just tell myself it’s the tea and not my dazzling conversation. I’m Pete, by the way.”

“Carmen,” you reply, wondering what to do. This was supposed to be just a little diversion; you’ve got to get Acuna’s car back to Westside before the tennis match wraps up. If Kelsey and Brooke win in straight sets as expected, you’ve probably got an hour. Then you have to get out of the mask, back to Will and over to the Masonic cemetery.

But chatting with Pete is fun. And if Shelly can use your identity to see some goofy movie, why you can’t start enjoying the masks too?

Next: "Breaking ServeOpen in new Window.

© Copyright 2020 Seuzz (UN: seuzz at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Seuzz has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/978078