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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Start of an Unlikely Partnership"  By his expression it's clear Jamie doesn't know what you're talking about. "Okay," you tell him. "Just tell me about what happened yesterday, when you were playing around with that mask I was showing you. What did you do, what happened?" "Well, I was sitting on my bed," he says. "I had it out and was looking at it, and— I just decided to try it on." You must have given him a look, for he blushes. "You never done something like that?" "Like what?" "So it's a mask, right?" he shrieks. "What else are you going to do with it?" A glint comes into his eyes. "I always liked masks, you know?" he continues in a low, confiding tone. "Always loved Halloween, 'cos of— You know that plastic-y, rubbery smell inside a Halloween mask? I love that smell!" He shivers all over, and grins. "I liked pretending." You smile back. "Yeah, I get you," you reply. A warm, almost fraternal glow spreads in your chest. He visibly relaxes. "So I had that mask I got off you, and I just thought—" He closes his eyes and shrugs. "So I put it on." Then he laughs. "Fuck, man, you know, it's a good thing Jeff didn't get ahold of it. You know? Well, what the fuck, he's so stupid anyway." You laugh, and as you lock eyes with Rennerhoff you know that you and he recognize it in each other's faces: a shared loathing of the drooling, bullying moron Jeff Spencer. The moment passes, and Jamie shrugs again. "Anyway, I guess I passed out, 'cos the next thing I knew I was laying on my side and my mom was knocking on the door. She wanted help in the kitchen." He makes a face. "When I got back up to my room, the mask was on the floor, and when I looked at it again I saw that it, uh—" "Did you try putting it on again?" He giggles. "No way, man. I kept far away from it. Until this morning, you know, when I put it in my bag." Then his eyes sharpen. "So what happens if I put it on again?" That wide grin, more nervous now, reappears. "You said something about how it's got my face in it. What happens if you put it on?" "Well, according to book, it would copy me." "And erase that thing that's in there now?" "Nuh. It says it would mix my face and yours. Make, like, an average of them." His brow crinkles. "That's weird. So, are we gonna do that?" "I wanna try something else. The book says you can 'seal up' a mask, and after that you can wear it." His expression turns wary. "What happens if you wear it?" "Well—" You tug at your ear. "According to the book it will turn you into a copy of the person in the mask." Jamie pales, but that grin flashes to life again. "Yeah?" His voice is a croak. "So, um, whose face are we gonna try it with?" "Well, yours is ready to go—" "We can't try it with you?" he blurts out. "If you put on that new mask—?" "It's not finished yet. See how the color's different? It has to be polished, and that takes a couple of days. We can get started on it, but I wanna check out the next spell now. You mind? You can help me put it together." * * * * * Jamie is far from reluctant to help; in fact he gets in your way by peering over your shoulder all the time that you're mixing up the ingredients. But he keeps very quiet, too, and you get the impression that he's nervous about where all this is leading. You ignore him, though, and after opening a couple of the windows you set the bowl onto the new sigil and drop a match into it. Smoke rolls out, but there's no stench like when you made the masks. And when you lift the bowl, the page comes away with it. You thrust the bowl at Jamie and eagerly flip the page while reaching for your cell phone. "It's like paint," he tells you. "Well, don't eat it!" "I'm not gonna eat it!" He smacks you on the back of the head. "Who do you think I am, Jeff?" "Why the fuck do you hang out with him, anyway?" you ask as you tap in short phrases from the book into the translator. "I don't. Well, I try not to. He hangs out with my friends." "You mean like Call and Thomason?" You glance back at him. "How'd you get to be friends with them?" "Oh, well, you know." He rolls his shoulders and looks smug. "Just started hanging out with them one day, got to be a habit, next thing, you know." He shrugs. "How'd you get to be friends with your friends?" "'Cos we like the same stuff. You like the same stuff as Call and them?" "Oh, sure! We talk about pussy. Same as you and your friends, right?" There's a little sneer in his voice now. "Oh, sure." Not that much, though. "But we also talk about other things." "Like what?" You roll your eyes. "Like the meaning of life and the latest stuff in Scientific American." "Oh, bullshit!" His laugh is a whinnying scream. "You're so fucking full of it!" "Sure. I just mean we just talk about stuff." "Yeah, I get you. So." He turns shy again. "You gonna tell 'em about this?" You hesitate. The moment feels both very small and very big. A tiny question that will determine if you can be friends with Rennerhoff. "Probably not," you hazard. "You gonna tell your friends about it?" "Oh, fuck, no!" He fidgets. "So how come you're not doing this with your friends?" "I dunno," you admit. And you don't. Because it's a really good question. Why are you doing this with Jamie Rennerhoff of all people instead of your friends Caleb and Keith? Or even Carson Ioeger and James Lamont, who are at least serious about the science and math stuff? Well, sure, there's one obvious answer. You fucked up your try at sneaking the mask onto Rennerhoff without him noticing. So you're working with him on account of an accident. But as you hold his eye it seems that you see a different answer. You see in his face a reflection of the same mischief that the book is exciting in your own breast. "I guess it's because it's a secret thing," you say as you turn back to the translation work. "I was planning on checking it out by myself, no one else." Again, you lock your eyes with his. "But maybe it is more fun when there's someone to help." That grin erupts again across Jamie's face. Now it seems very conspiratorial, and you feel a kindred smile pulling at your mouth. He props himself on a stool next to you, very close, and takes out his own cell phone. Working together, you get the rest of the second spell, on the reverse of the page, quickly deciphered. * * * * * As you suspected, the translation tells you that you've now made the "sealant" spoken of in the first spell, and after a search of the basement turns up an old brush, you apply it as directed to the inner surface of the mask. It goes on as a transparent layer, slightly sticky to the touch, but losing the tackiness as it quickly dries. Now it can be worn. You and Jamie stare at each other when it comes to the moment to test it out. He looks as demented with excitement and terror as you feel. Despite his smile and the light in his eyes, there's a thin film of sweat on his forehead. It's pretty clear what the next step has to be. The book promises that anyone who puts on a sealed mask will be transformed into the image of the person whose face and body are contained in the mask. There doesn't seem to be much point in getting Jamie to put it on, because even if it turned him into a copy of himself, how could you tell? Still you feebly argue for a minute or two in favor of making the experiment, but he just gives you a look. So, with nerves jangling and limbs twitching, you lay down on a table top and lower the mask onto your face. And when you release it, it just keeps sinking down into you. You would gasp, but you are paralyzed as the mask, becoming heavier by the millisecond, presses into your face and sinks into the front of your skull. But it's rather pleasant actually, and as you lose consciousness it feels as though you are being covered, and then filled, with a warm syrup ... Next: "The Boy with Two Faces" |
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