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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Prepping for a College Caper"  "So what was Chelsea up to in practice today?" You glance up from your cell phone as Jessica Garner slides into the seat in front of you. It's fourth period, and you're in AP German IV. (Which, along with Jessica, you are sharing with Geoff Mansfield, Anthony Kirk, Amanda Ferguson, Ricky Golia, Abigail Kane, Tyler Burns, Charles Hartlein, Preston Spinks, and Cody Schaefer. If there's any other class at Westside with a bigger concentration of supercilious assholes, you don't know what it could be. The smug is suffocating.) "What makes you think Chelsea was up to something?" you ask. "That's what I'm asking you," Jessica retorts as she drops a brick-like textbook on her desk. "You're the paranoiac who's always convinced she's up to something." You make a face (which she doesn't see) and slump deeper into your seat. What can you say? Maybe Chelsea got body-swapped with someone who's actually human? Usually the captain of the squad throws herself into the thick of things. Tumbling and telling others how she wants them to tumble. Ordering this girl to do it this way and that other girl to do some other thing that way, while watching with a hard eye and a sharp tongue. Twirling on her feet and twisting her hair about a finger as she spits out one idea before swatting it away with another. Thrusting her boobs and her butt out so that all the other girls will notice that her boobs and butt are bigger, harder, and shapelier than theirs. For whatever reason, Chelsea Cooper cannot stand or sit still during practice, even if it's just to flap her jaw and dart her eyes. But today she sat very primly on the bottom-most bench of the bleachers and directed the rest of the squad to show her their best moves while she watched. And when that was done she asked first Kendra, then Gloria, and then Cindy— Cindy Vredenburg, her archenemy, who she beat out to become head cheerleader! —to each take a turn directing various routines, and asking them for ideas on how to improve them. And all the time, it seemed to you, she was turning paler and paler, until the blood ran green and sickly at her throat and cheeks. Her forehead was the color of chalk by the time she dismissed the squad to the showers, and her bangs were plastered to her forehead. And when she spoke, she spoke very quietly, in a low voice, and not once did she insult or criticize any of the girls. There were puzzled glances all around during practice and in the changing room afterward, but Jessica's question now is the first anyone has commented to you on the weirdness at practice. Even in third-period Chemistry, Cindy herself didn't remark on it. (Though she did look distracted and preoccupied.) "Maybe she was just sick," you tell Jessica. "She did look kind of sick, didn't she? Like she wanted to throw up?" "You can do better than that, Yumi." "Why do you want her to be up to something?" You feel yourself flaring. "Or why do you want to think that she's up to something?" "Because she usually is." "Oh, who's the paranoiac now?" "I can't hold a candle to you. You come up with the best worst-case scenarios." "Maybe she just had cramps real bad," you retort. "Same as it sounds like you've got—" But you break off as Frau Kohl steps up to the lectern and calls class to order. * * * * * You and Jessica take lunch with Cindy and Lin Pol, eating at the end of the table where Kelsey Blankenship and the rest of the AP snots hold court. None of your quartet particularly like Kelsey and her friends, but there's no one better to eat with, and it saves you from the attentions of creeps and cretins like Erik Carstairs, Ryan Shuler, and Lester Pozniak, who might otherwise try to hit on you. Talk is mostly about classmates, boys, upcoming parties, and Halloween. Chelsea gets mentioned only once, when Jessica (after getting a text from her sister, who shares fourth lunch with the rest of cheerleaders) tells your group in a low, sneering voice that Chelsea and Gordon apparently took their lunch in private. Meaning they took it in the fuck room. You chew that news (and the Mexican casserole) silently and thoughtfully. Kelly Cooper, in her daughter's body, getting it on with her daughter's boyfriend. That's very interesting, even if it's taking place out of sight. It leaves you dying to make the switch with Chelsea's brother, so you can see if Kelly carries the flirtation over into the Coopers' own house. * * * * * But you're still at a loss for how to get to Jordan when Mokichi, belatedly, comes through. Your cell goes off in the middle of Orchestra—earning you a blazing glare from Mrs. Heinz—and Mokichi's surly attitude oozes through the text that you open when class is over: Found a guy can put u touch w jordan cooper. There follows a name and a contact number. You blow a bang out of your eye in exasperation. Mokichi couldn't get Jordan's number from the guy and pass it along to you? Well, whatever. At least now you have the start of an angle. * * * * * Saturday afternoon. Stupid traffic, stupid chores, stupid Mokichi! you fume to yourself as you race from the Prescott house toward Blackwell's villa. You're fifteen minutes late already, and it'll be another five at least before you get there! The plan seemed so simple when it came to you, in a flash, on Thursday night. Tell Jordan I've got a cousin who works for a big-city website that wants to interview him about the Keyserling lacrosse squad. Tell him to come meet us out at Blackwell's. Make the switch there! And sure enough, Jordan Cooper bit when you texted him the bullshit story, and he agreed to meet you Saturday afternoon at your "uncle's house." And even Blackwell went along with it when you asked if you could make the switch at his place. It was foolish of you, in retrospect, not to explain your plan in detail to the professor. But you were counting on being there and being in charge when Jordan arrived. But then Yumi's mom sprang some surprise Saturday-morning chores on you, and Yumi's dad and brother went into town to run separate errands and you had to wait for one of them to get back with a car. You texted Jordan to reset the meeting time, but you got no reply before Mokichi returned. And then, after you tore out the garage and hurled yourself down the street, all the traffic lights were against you! All hope that Jordan will be late to the meeting dies when you see a second car parked at Blackwell's, next to Blackwell's own. Shit shit shit shit shit! you mutter as you sprint up the walk to the front door. What has Blackwell told Jordan? Has the whole thing blown up? It's a good sign that Jordan's car is still there. But will he be dangerously on his guard after talking to a college professor who has no idea that he (Jordan) is supposed to be there to conduct an interview with Yumi Saito's cousin? You rap briefly on the front door, but let yourself in. The house is silent and dark, and it has a deserted feel as you peer into its shadowy depths. Professor Blackwell? you almost shout, but you catch yourself. Jordan is supposed to think that Blackwell is some kind of uncle of yours. (Oh, why did you make him and your fictitious cousin relatives? The Mona Lisa is more Japanese than Blackwell!) You push the front door shut and tiptoe down the central hallway. You flinch as you pass the gaping entrance to the library: a hot exhalation rushes from it to envelop you, then dies. "Hello?" you call out. "Anyone here?" "Is that you, Mr. Prescott?" It's the professor's own plummy voice, coming from the back of the house. You make a face. Way to blow my cover, man! you think. You hop down the hallway and turn into the formal dining room at the back corner of the house. Blackwell is bending over the dining table, studying an immense sheet of black paper—like a set of blueprints—that is being held down at the corners by four lighted candles. "Ah, here you are at last," he says as he glances up. "Aren't you late?" "Car trouble. Also, I had to run across town to pick up the new mask from my, uh, replacement." He frowns. "I thought I told you that you had to do your own crafting and polishing." "Uh—" "Well, never mind. Let me see it." You draw the mask from your bag. He takes it and examines it minutely. "Is the electricity out or something?" you ask as you give the candles an uneasy glance. "Or something," Blackwell grunts without looking up from the mask. You bite your lip. "And Jordan?" "Your young man? He's in the library, waiting for you." "Waiting?" Your jaw drops. "What did you tell him? I mean, about why I wanted to meet him here?" "I didn't waste any small talk on him." "So you just sent him into the library?" "I dragged him into the library." Blackwell hand you the mask back. "I knocked him out immediately on opening the door to him. I saw no point in making things complicated." Next: "The Cooper D'etat" |
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