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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Change Your Partner"  You leave Caleb to get oriented inside his new mask, for you don't want to be seen with "Gardinhire", and you also don't want to be around the portables when the real Gardinhire wakes up in his new situation. The latter should be able to find his way around, for though you did not put any kind of brain-band inside Caleb's mask, you did put his class schedule and locker info at the front of his notebook. If Gardinhire is as smart as he is supposed to be—something you're not quite prepared to bet on, not after talking to him this afternoon—he shouldn't have any problem getting into Caleb's school life even without the benefits of your friend's memories. The moment of crisis comes pretty quickly, and you and Caleb are both witness to it. Sixth period finds you and the new Martin Gardinhire in AP Statistics. He is in one corner of the room talking quietly with Marc Garner, the way Gardinhire is supposed to be doing, with a smug grin on his face behind those shades; you're in the opposite corner, in the back, slouching with David Kirkham; all parties have a clear view of the door when Caleb Johansson peeks into the room and stares at the figure sitting where Gardinhire should be sitting; where Martin Gardinhire in fact is sitting. You only watch from the corner of your eye and are careful not to react when he turns to look at you. But Kirkham notices. "Faggot in the door's makin' eyes at you, man," he says. So you give Johansson a direct look, and when he doesn't break off staring at you, you blow him a hard kiss. He jerks backward, and hurries away. "Ask him out, man," Kirkham teases. "If he's hot for you, take him. Not like you're gonna get any pussy." "I only gotta ask and you'll lemme in your pussy." * * * * * Maybe Gardinhire is smart enough to go along with a gag: You make a point of passing Caleb's locker between the remaining classes, and each time you find a guy who looks like Johansson at it. You feel a little sorry for him the second time you check, for Tilley is leaning next to him, bantering about something. After school lets out you have to run an errand for your mom in answer to a text she sent, and it's just as well that you had to stop at home first, for you had to collect the grimoire anyway. So it's about four-thirty when you get to the elementary school, and half a grin slides up the side of your face to find Martin Gardinhire's Audi parked outside it. "Yo man," you call as you tramp down into the basement, where your friend is slouched in a chair. "How was the rest of your day? You get laid yet?" "Oh Christ," Caleb says. "Why didn't we get masks of a couple of guys who are getting some regularly?" "Speak for yourself. I came this close to banging Molly Shaw before you showed up fifth period. And didja see that queer Johansson flirting with me at the start of Muniz's?" He flips you off; you catch him about the neck and lightly pummel him in the gut. "You gettin' smart with me? At least you lost those fucking sunglasses." It's true that he's dumped them—big, dumb things made of cheap plastic—exposing his eyes, finally. They're dark, which makes them a match for his mousy brown hair; maybe it's Caleb, or maybe he's channeling the real Gardinhire, but he blinks nervously as you release him. "How're you settling in," you ask. "Okay, I guess," he says, and pauses. "It's like I have to concentrate to keep in character, though. Like, seventh period, in Chorale, this girl was talking to me, but I couldn't remember her name. I finally remembered it, and get this, Gardinhire— Well, he doesn't have a crush on her exactly, but he does have kind of a, uh—" "Oh, like this, huh?" You laugh and thrust your hips. "Yeah, I can see that with Audrey." Martin gives you an irritated look. "Is it really that easy for you? Or is all this bullshit gangbanger stuff just you acting like you think Chen should act?" "I dunno, but it feels kinda natural to me. I guess it'll come to you once you get used to it." But then you cock your head. "Didn't you feel a rush when you woke up in his mask, like this stuff just pouring down over you and into you?" "No. I just had kind of a headache." "Didn't feel like someone sneaking into your head and sitting down next to you and putting his arms and legs around yours?" Now he looks a little alarmed. "No. I've just got this sense like there's stuff I can't quite remember. You know, like you get when you know there's something you're supposed to do, but you can't quite remember it?" "You're saying you can't quite remember how to be Gardinhire?" "Well, like I say, if I concentrate on it I can get it. Like, right now I should be out someplace with Geoff and Ricky, maybe getting coffee and doing homework. It's like I have to remind myself that I'm Gardinhire, and then things come. Whatever is relevant." "Huh. Maybe it's just working slower in your case. Or— I dunno. Come on." You nod at the stack of sandbags nearby. "Let's get this taken care of. You don't wanna be Gardinhire forever." Together you pore over the next spell in the book, making various alternate translations of the instructions and muttering in increasing disbelief. "No fucking way," your partner finally declares. "We're not setting fire to this place." "We don't gotta set fire to the school, asshole, only to the—" "Oh, if we set all those chemicals on fire, you better believe this whole place is gonna go up like a torch." "It's magic," you reply, though you feel far from certain yourself. "There's gotta be something to stop it from—" "Where are you getting this shit? We can't do it, Will." "You mean not here? Then where?" "Not anyplace!" "Oh, come on! Look, if we don't do it here, there's plenty of spots we can do it. Out in Suffolk Wilderness if no place else. Or we just drive, like, twenty miles down the old highway, out to butt-fuck nowhere and do it three hundred yards away from the road. We pile everything up like it says—" "And that's another thing!" he exclaims. "We're supposed to pile all this onto a sigil and set it on fire. Are we gonna use the sigil in the book? Because we couldn't get the last sigil to work when we copied it out." You snap your fingers. "You know, I bet that's it! I dunno how come the sigils didn't work last time, but I bet it's the sigil that'll keep everything from burning down. You know, it's like a magical force field." He groans long and loudly. "How the fuck would you know that?" "Look, we have to try something. Stop that," you say when he starts chewing on a fingernail. "Try to stay in character, that's something Johansson would do." Caleb gives you dirty look, but drops his hand. "Maybe we could run an experiment," he says. "Like, try it on a sample—" Now you groan long and loudly. "If that's you being in character, get back out of it. That's fucking lame. If it was gonna work on less than four hundred pounds of dirt I think it woulda called for less." * * * * * You argue for a long time like this, then reach an agreement: He goes out to buy a fire extinguisher while you remain behind to copy the sigil onto a piece of paper. You're still not finished when he gets back. "Finish this for me, will ya," you say, pushing the sigil at him as you sit back and stretch the crick from your neck. "No way, that's your side of the deal," he says. "I sprang for the extinguisher—" "You're the one who wanted it." "—and your job is to draw the sigil." "Fine," you grumble, and bend back over the work. "Dish me some dirt while I'm working. Like, who goes to these reefer parties at Kelsey's?" "Gardinhire," Caleb says after a moment's thought. "Mansfield, Kirk, Golia, Amanda, Kelsey, Brooke—" "Galloway? You serious? She's such a fucking prissy little bitch." "She does everything Kelsey tells her too. Whoa!" "What?" "That was instinct, what I just said." He blinks thoughtfully. "I just blurted it out, too." "Instinct, huh? I know what you mean. I look at your face and I wanna puke, that's instinct too. I'm talking about Gardinhire, don't give me that look. Who else is at these parties? They're every Saturday?" "Right. So who'd I say? Golia? Marc Garner?" "What about Eva and Jessica?" "Usually, but they're not really part of the group anymore. There's some bad blood between them and Kelsey. Marc's not coming as much as he used to, not since he hooked up with Hannah Westrick." "What about Pruitt?" "Brent? Oh, fuck no!" He laughs. "Douglas Canfield comes, though." "Who?" "Adrienne Canfield's little brother. You remember Adrienne? She graduated a few years ago, kind of acted like a mentor or something to Kelsey and them." He makes a face. "She's at Stanford now. Anyway, Douglas is her little brother, he's a junior, and Kelsey kind of looks after him." "By getting him high on Saturday nights?" "Yeah, I think she kind of resents Adrienne. Kelsey's not someone who likes it when others help her out." "Speaking of which— Hey, hand me my bag. I wanna smoke." He clucks his tongue. "Take it outside if you're gonna do that. Jesus, you're a sick, fucking, degenerate lowlife." "Was that instinct?" You show him your teeth in a wide, sharp grin. "Yes, and it was also deliberate." He stretches his legs and tilts his head back. "Gardinhire's been wanting to tell you that for a long time, Chen." Next: "Burning Dilemmas" |
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