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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Chelsea Chen"  Your brain is full of bees and your legs are made of hard, bouncy rubber as you stride toward the school the next morning. You want to sprint into school, but you keep it in check. As it is, you can barely keep your feet on the ground. Is this what it's like when you first get a girlfriend? The heart-stopping crush of anticipation at seeing her, the excitement at knowing she'll be waiting, the giddy incredulity at having a girl who is that close and important to you? No, you haven't got a girlfriend. But you are so keen to glimpse Chelsea Cooper, to see the new head cheerleader in action, that it's like the feeling of having one. * * * * * Nothing much happened between you and the Chelsea-fied Chen last night. After finishing a cigarette between you, you'd gruffly told her to start getting changed into her new clothes; as she'd struggled into them, you'd driven back around to the high school, to park briefly in the teacher's lot. "Don't hang around," you'd told your new partner. "Get back to your place, get into your new life. Maybe you better hide out in your room until you get your new brain better locked onto yours. See you tomorrow." You'd barely held back the overpowering desire to lean in and tear a kiss from her lips. After watching her drive off, you'd run back around to the student lot to collect the Jeep. Matthias's car was there, which suggested to you that Chelsea was still upstairs, probably freaking out. You'd almost left her to it, but decided to check on her in case she did herself some harm. So you called Dane's cell. After five rings, a very tentative voice answered. "Yo, I'm here, where are you?" you said. No answer. "Hey, fuckface. I asked you a question. Where the fuck are you?" "Uh, I'm at the high school? In the loft over the gym?" You look up at the dark windows high up over the gym. "You're fucking with me. You see me?" You wave. "I'm down here." "Where?" "Down in the fucking parking lot, dipshit, where you wanted to meet. Fucking liar, I knew you weren't—" "Oh. I see you. Uh—" "The door to the gym open? I'm heading up there to kick your lying ass." You hung up and ran for the side door to the gym, which was still open. "Yo, Matthias!" Your voice reverberated in the dark gym. "Where the fuck you hiding?" But you didn't wait for an answer, and sprinted for the stairs. At the top you found the loft door ajar, and peeked in. A hunched figure stared back at you. You let out a low whistle. "The fuck are you doing in here?" you asked. "Jesus, I gotta give you credit for balls. If Black or Patterson or one o' them caught you up here— Tch, but your ass ain't worth the hospital bill they'da stapled to it, no matter how gentle they was." You advanced into the room and looked around, stopping on the mat. You kicked at it with your foot. "You think this is where they do it? Where Black's cock meets Chelsea's cunny?" You laughed. The figure said nothing. "Well, come on, we should get outta here. I don't got time to waste, and anyway the thought of them doin' the nasty makes me wanna puke. Something wrong over there, Matthias?" You stepped forward and pulled the figure into the light. It was Dane, of course, and he was trembling all over. "The fuck? You on a bad trip or something, man?" You clicked your fingers in his face. "Snap out of it." "I don't know. I—" The best thing, you judged, was to get him in motion and home. "Come on, I don't got time, like I said." You pulled him out of the loft and down the stairs, outside to his car. "So where's the shit?" "The what?" "The shit, man, the stuff you said you had for me." He just stared at you, so you whapped him on the side of the head; he returned a wounded and frightened expression. "You called me, man, said you had the shit and we should meet up at the school parking lot. Is it in your car?" "Yeah?" he mumbled. Rolling your eyes, you crawled into the car and searched about until you found the baggies you'd passed on to Chen earlier. You pocketed them and turned back to Matthias. "So are you going home now?" "Yeah?" You seized his head between your hands. "Go home, Matthias. You know where you live?" "Uh—" "You got a wallet? A driver's license?" After a moment's thought, he took it out. "Very good," you said with exaggerated patience. "Look on your driver's license. It'll have an address. Go to that address. Go inside." You slapped him hard. "And sleep it off." With that, you left him. You got in a lot of trouble at home for missing dinner, which you did your best to deflect by throwing yourself into homework. You were up until one-thirty, then fell into an exhausted stupor. * * * * * But now it's Friday, at last. Amazing to believe that you've been playing the part of Gary Chen for less than a week. It's been so full. And even now you've got a ton of stuff to sort out. Besides scoping out the state of "Chelsea Cooper," you've got "Dane Matthias" to spy on. Martin Gardinhire and Caleb Johansson to keep an eye on. Normal business to transact. So after hiding a baggie in the library, you go to the gym to watch pre-class basketball practice. Westside was built at one of the peaks of a physical fitness mania: the gym actually has two full-size basketball courts inside, separated by a high mezzanine where all the weight equipment is kept. From up there you briefly watch the freshman girls' basketball team practice on one court, then cross over to gaze down at the boys' varsity squad. They're dressed out and running hard: Steve Patterson is yelling at them, but Gordon Black is nowhere to be seen. No surprise there, since Dane Matthias hasn't got Black's skills with the ball. You wonder how long he can last as captain of the team if he's been skipping all the practices. You manage to catch Luke Bennett's eye, and nod at him. At this distance, you can't make out his reaction. You only have to wait ten minutes before Patterson calls an end. The rest of the team returns to the changing rooms, but Bennett runs up into the mezzanine to meet you. "What happened to Black," you ask. He ignores your question as he pushes in close and grasps your t-shirt. "I didn't agree to buy anything from you, motherfucker," he says, obviously in reference to the eighth you'd peddled to his friend Jonas. "That's cool, I don't hold it against you." You grin and grip his wrist, pressing a small baggie holding an eighth of an ounce of weed to his hand. "Here's some more, gratis, my treat. Just wanted to see if you and your boy were interested, that's all," you say as he glares at you. "Turns out Martin's interested. You're not?" Bennett shows you his clenched teeth. "I'm not fucking around—" "Neither'm I. Come on, man. Today's Free Ganja Day, tomorrow's the weekend. Who you hangin' out with, Martin, maybe Green? Two eighths gonna be enough for you? Look, that first one, that was just me breakin' the ice. Fuckin' Patterson's got you all too-shittin-in-your-pants scared to ask. But I drop some on your boy Jonas and he snaps it up hard. This one's free—" You push the baggie again on him. "Show I'm your friend, only wanna cultivate a relationship." You wink. "You want another one, make sure you're well stocked for the weekend? Talk to me." Bennett's stare wavers, then he steps back and stalks away. But you grin at his back, for he's taken the baggie with him. With a happy sigh you turn back to the gym. Ten minutes until the bell, for you've no place better to be, and one good reason to linger. It comes five minutes later, as the ballplayers are starting to troop out, when the main doors open and three girls come in. One of them is Maria Vasquez, the dusky, shapely, bird-brained cheerleader. Another is Kendra Saunders, the light-skinned African-American cheerleader with the track runner physique. Between them is Chelsea Cooper. You catch your breath in surprise. She's dressed in skin-tight blue jeans whose cuffs are rolled up above dark-grey high-heeled boots. Her midriff is exposed but her bosom is tightly clasped into a light blue sports top over which hangs a crisp white blouse, unbuttoned and draping to the mid-thighs. She wears a choker with a bright stone right at the top of her breastbone. And her hair is tucked under a cherry-red knit ski cap. Even in this new guise, Chen can't lose the ski cap. You loose a rafter-rattling whistle from on high. "You're smokin' today, Chelsea," you yell, and she lifts an imperious chin in your direction. "Gotta special booty call set up witcha boy toy?" You grin as Kendra stares back at you with shock and horror; Maria looks vaguely puzzled; Chelsea smiles very faintly. The trio don't break stride on their way to the changing room. You let your erection settle a little before turning toward the stairs. But before you reach them, your phone buzzes with a text. It's from Chelsea Cooper: Fuck room in ten min. Skip first. Next: "Faces Behind Faces" |
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