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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Mind of Mary"  by Masktrix “Good morning, ladies.” You look up from your breakfast, suddenly on edge. Abi has walked over to your table, where you, Mary and Corinne are eating. She waves an envelope. “There’s a mail call. JM, this one’s for you!” She’s practically bouncing as she passes it over. “Oh, and by the way, the prefects have decided perhaps we were a little harsh, and that we’re going to commute your exeat ban. You can go out tonight, if you like! In fact, here’s the pass you asked for.” You take the paper in hand, and look at Abi suspiciously, but she just smiles and turns to leave. Unceremoniously, you hook your legs out from under the table and chase after her. “I didn’t ask for a pass tonight,” you say. “Oh, but you did,” Abi replies, her voice somehow dripping with venom even as she smiles and walks through the dining hall crowds. A sinking feeling takes hold in the pit of your stomach. “What do you mean?” “You really think I’m going to trust you to keep your mouth shut?” Abi says, the smile never wavering. You can’t believe she’s so brazen, even as she sits down next to Vee Macklin and Kristen Wright-Wallace. “I need more than that, JM. A little insurance, if you will.” “What does that mean?” “It means,” Abi says, casually shoving Kristen’s bowl away from her overweight friend, “that you’re going into town tonight to pick up a certain prescription. That way, if I go down, you go down.” You look at her mortified. “No fucking way.” Vee rolls her eyes at you, interrupting. “What’s the matter, JM? In over your head? It’s simple. You go down to an address, you pick up a small package, you bring it back.” She looks at you intensely, black eyebrows knotted over her hawkish features. “What address?” “I don’t know, JM,” Abi says almost derisively. “Why don’t you check your mail? You really think someone like you would get a letter?” “And if I get caught?” “Then I guess all the Adderall you’ll be carrying explains why you’ve been so obsessed over some stupid art project all year,” Abi says, before resuming her breakfast as if you weren’t there. You hadn’t expected this, but at least it gives you a chance to go into town. You’ve already translated the next spell, and you’re pretty sure what the ingredients you need are. It’s stuff you probably could get around school, but after your run-in with the prefects it seems so much easier just to buy them: there’s nothing banned and you can pass them off as art supplies. It makes what the book describes as ‘ferrumen’, which you think makes yet another paste, perhaps to bind the metal strip you’ve created to a mask, so that you can look and act like someone at the same time. And oh god, do you want to look and act like someone. The moments you’ve been Mathilde and Stephanie have probably been the most exciting of your life so far. It feels so taboo, so invasive and transgressive, but also so comfortable to see the world from someone else’s eyes. You’ve thought about it since the weekend, fantasized about stealing a few minutes as Stephanie to video chat with Mark, or waiting until Mathilde’s taking a shower and slip into her room, boss Vicky around, maybe try on a few of her things. It’s pure fantasy, of course: there’s nowhere to hide in St.X; someone’s always watching or just around the corner. Someone like Abigail Steiner. You’re still not sure if you really wanted to become a blip on her radar, but her demand has put you over a barrel. You can’t report her, you can’t turn her down. You're just going to have to do it. *** The Pauper Wagon. The Bus of Shame. The ride into town has a lot of different names, but none of them are complimentary. You’ve never actually been on it, but it’s the fastest way into town – and you’ve got a busy schedule. You make sure you’re last off when the bus pulls up near the St. Francis Xavier Church – or cathedral? You’re never really sure – and loiter around for a few minutes until the coast is clear. Then, pacing around the building, you head to a small door set aside, out of the way, and crouch down to grab the spare key hidden under a nearby rock. You’re following the instructions on a typed sheet from one of the envelopes Abi handed to you. Part of you figures this is some ambush Abi’s planned, so you’re nervous as you turn the key. But you can’t see an angle for her. Downstairs is an abandoned old basement, with a few table tennis tables folded up. You ignore the mess, grab something to stand on, and hop up, feeling along the top of the beam. An object! You pull it down. It’s a small plastic bag, with three smaller bags inside containing different pills. What they do, or who they’re for, you don’t know or care. You shove them into your backpack and, rather than rush for the exit, lie down on the floor, taking out a mask as you set yourself down. If you have to be in town hauling around Abi’s stash, you’re going to try and steal a few hours of fun. Since you’ve discovered the book, all you’ve wanted to do is wear the masks for longer periods. It’s almost as addictive as the pills you’re carrying: like a quiet wish that’s been fulfilled. As you drop to the floor and lift the mask to your face, you feel a rush of anticipation, a thrill so powerful you can barely contain it … You wake with a feeling like you get on Christmas morning, and bolt upright. You admire your bronzed arms, and click your heels with glee. As expected, the hoodie fits Stephanie Wyatt perfectly. Saratoga Falls, you figure, is so big you’d be incredibly unlucky to run into the realStephanie while you enact your plan. Scooping up your bag, you brush off the dust from your clothes and head up the door, out to experience this town through the eyes of someone else. The next hour is perhaps one of the greatest of your life. It should be dull – it’s just walking around, occasionally stopping in shops and buying from your curated list of materials for masks and this ‘ferrumen’ goo. You even stop in Arnholm’s to see if there are any more magic books, although the remaining leather-bound tomes in the rare books collection appear to be mundane. As JM, you’d be frustrated. But you’re not doing it as yourself, you’re doing it as Stephanie. Every time you catch your reflection gives you a chill, and the risk of discovery, of suddenly rounding the corner and meeting your double, makes you giddy. After ten minutes of nerves, you forget that you’re even hauling drugs around in your pack. And when you snap a few photos and send them to Mark, his response even makes you forget that you are an imposter in someone else’s skin. U in twn? Cnt wait 2 see you again. Cnt wait ethr you type back, fingers shaking as you do. Gng 2 b fun. Is it, though? As much as Mark was the object of your desires before, even this imposture only feels half-complete. Without the band, you’re only ever going to be wearing a costume. And part of you longs, almost needs now, to be someone else. You have no idea how you’re going to track down Stephanie and get a mind band on her, though. It’s a puzzle you’re mulling over when you pass a small coffee shop, and recognize a few of the girls who’d been sitting with the real Stephanie in the DQ that day when you copied her. The cautious thing to do would be to walk away. But something in you can’t resist the feeling of getting away with an imposture. . “Hey, Stephanie,” one of them greets as you step inside. You give a brief nod – you’re not sure if Stephanie smiles – and walk over. “Hi,” you say, trying to guess the girl’s name from the schoolbook splayed out front. “How’s it going, Bonny?” “Did you just call me Bonny?” The girl asks, smirking. “Uh, yeah, fine, Craig!” Shit!. You try and conceal your panic by putting your hands on your hips and not looking amused. The girls all stare at you for a second, before the one answering notices the book. “Oh! This? Yeah, just borrowing it. I should probably give it back to her. Guess we’ll see her Saturday, right?” A smile creeps to the edge of your lips. Information! “Guess so. What’s the plan for Saturday anyway?” “I don’t know, not like it’s set in stone,” one of the other girls sighs. “Most of us’ll be heading to the Municipal Fields about an hour before kickoff. We’ll beat Eastman, get something to eat, then head to Phoebe’s.” “Ugh, it’s going to be so lame,” a third interjects. “Is she still dating that sophomore?” “Sssh,” the last girl at the table hisses. “Why don’t you broadcast it across town? I’m not sure if we’re supposed to know.” “Then they should be more subtle,” Girl Three – it’s easier to just number them – snaps back before turning to you. “You already said you were going though, right?” “Yeah, I did,” you nod, smiling ever more. The girls – not that you care who they are – have been a goldmine. Stephanie Wyatt is going to be at some sports game on Saturday afternoon. If you wanted, you could track her down and get a mind band on her. Or, even better! You could arrange a date with Mark at the same time, on the opposite end of town. There’s no way you’d run into the real Stephanie that way. But you yearn to make a real, complete disguise. And there’s a much easier option waiting for you back at St. X. Mathilde Ambard will leave the grounds on Saturday, and you share one of your lame-ass Saturday morning classes with her. It wouldn’t be hard to get a mind band on her, then spend an entire two days living her life free from discovery. Next: "Excuse My French" |
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