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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1023912
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by Seuzz Author IconMail Icon
Rated: GC · Book · Occult · #2183561
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises.
#1023912 added December 31, 2021 at 11:54am
Restrictions: None
Confiding in Carson
Previously: "The Interrogatory ModeOpen in new Window.

You don't want to lay too much on Rachel. It's probably weird enough for her, finding herself going out with a guy like you. (You are going out together, aren't you?) You don't want to scare her off by laying some heavy shit on her about the weird run-ins you've had with Gordon and Chelsea lately. Particularly because you'd have to confess to her that, uh, you've lying about your history with Chelsea.

You also don't want to talk to Caleb. Like, you told him about last Friday, when Chelsea summoned you up to the school, and he just weirded out on you. And then he made that bizarre request yesterday morning, which you still feel like is somehow connected to the shitstorm going on at your house.

That leaves Carson as the only one you might talk to. Yeah, he's an arrogant prick, but he's smart and he's got more guts than just about anyone you know. He's also already said he wants to talk to you about something.

So you turn on your heel and dash off toward his locker, shoving your way as fast and hard as you can through the surging crowds.

* * * * *

Carson is wearing an extremely pained expression by the time he drops you off in front of your house, but it also looks like he doesn't disbelieve you, exactly. Also, he agrees to pick you up in the morning.

You gave him your story from the beginning, but of course there was lots of backing-and-filling as you remembered to add details and as he questioned you sharply. More or less (though not in this order) this is what you told him:

Last Friday night Chelsea Cooper called me out of the blue and asked me to come up to the school, and she took me up to the fuck room and asked for my help because Gordon hurt himself somehow. I didn't know what she was talking about so I just left her—

"Fucking amateur," Carson snorted at that point.

—and since then my life has gotten weird. Gordon hauled my ass up to the fuck room and I got punched in the face and woke up behind the portables, and then on Tuesday Chelsea wanted to meet me again up at the library so I could tutor her in math, and then today Gordon hauled me out to the portables and punched me in the face again and knocked me out—

"What do you expect after you took a job 'tutoring' his girlfriend?" Carson wanted to know.

—but the really weird stuff is happening at my house. Caleb called me yesterday morning and wanted me to call my dad and pretend that my truck wouldn't start, and I told him to get bent, but when I got home yesterday afternoon, my mom told me that my dad came out to the school to check on my truck, and he did that because I came home in a taxi and told her my truck wouldn't start, and I swear to fucking Jesus, Carson, I didn't do no such thing, but now my mom is mad at me 'cos I'm basically calling her a liar, and that's how come I'm grounded.

As already stated, Carson looks very pained when he drops you off, but he says he'll talk about it with you some more tomorrow when he picks you up. Before letting you go, though, he asks if Caleb ever explained how come he wanted you to make that phone call to your dad.

"No, and he's being a dick," you reply, "which is how come I'm telling you about all this instead of him. He's been totally useless. Anyway," you add, "after I first told him about Chelsea, he started skipping school. Today was his first day back."

You half-expect Carson to dismiss you with a shake of his head, but he just repeats that he'll pick you up tomorrow. You watch and wave as he pulls back onto the street and shoots away.

* * * * *

Your mom continues to be cool toward you, but she's not rude. Dinner is still very awkward, though, with minimal conversation, and your dad takes your place to help clean up the kitchen. But when seven-thirty rolls around—the time that Rachel is due to show up for your first tutoring session—you are downstairs at the dining room table with your stuff spread out, and are nearly bursting with excitement.

You spend two hours working with her, as she patiently explains the fundamentals of calculus to you—what it is and what it's supposed to do, and how it connects with mathematical concepts you already understand. She does a marvelous job of making it all clear to you, so that exercises that were just rote work start to make sense, and the rules and techniques you're supposed to follow become much more intuitive and easy to remember. Your dad comes in at one point to listen for a few minutes, and you can tell by his expression that he's impressed and pleased by what he hears.

There's no flirting or even touching while you work, but it's not hard for you to read a soft, blushing interest in Rachel's face when she's looking at you. Her eyes are big and expressive, and she squirms a little (but smiles!) when she catches you staring at her. She's very quiet and professional, though, and never once alludes to any kind of "connection" between you, so you have to flatter yourself there's a connection by reading it into her smiles.

You walk her to the door when the session is over, and she tugs you onto the front porch.

"Listen, you're grounded," she says, "so you can't walk me to my car. But I'll pick you up for school tomorrow."

"That'd be great!" you exclaim. Then you remember the deal you already made with Carson. "Except I can't. I'm already getting a ride from Carson Ioeger."

"So cancel on him. I want to pick you up."

"I don't got a way of contacting him."

"Then I'll text him. I've got his number."

You squirm on your feet. It's awfully tempting, but he did listen to you this afternoon, and he acted like he'd have something to say to you tomorrow. So you shake your head.

"Let me give you a ride home tomorrow?" she suggests, and when you happily nod, she kisses her fingertip and presses it to the corner of your mouth. "Thanks," she says. "I'll see you tomorrow." She casts a couple of glances back at you as she walks to her car, and you can hardly keep from taking off like a rocket as you watch her go.

* * * * *

You're still in the shower when Carson stops by to pick you up on Friday morning, and your clothes are sticking wetly to you as you run out the door with him. Annoyed as you are with him being so goddamned early, you're also glad for the early escape. You're happier still when he stops at a donut shop on the way into school, where James Lamont is waiting for you both.

Over a couple of donuts and coffee the three of you talk. The other two are very serious, and they listen intently as they ask for your story again. To your surprise, they are most interested in something that you hardly even remember mentioning to Carson yesterday: that book you sold to Caleb, which wound up with Chelsea.

"I picked it up at Arnholm's," you say, and tell them how it creeped you out. How it purported to be a book of magic or something, and how Caleb even tested something out on you using something he made with it. "I don't remember what it was supposed to do," you say. "Something like mind-reading, though, I think." You expect them to sneer and jeer, but they look very thoughtful. You also explain again that Chelsea had the book when you saw her on Friday, and that you don't know how she got it away from Caleb.

"Well, see, here's the thing," Carson says, and he leans on his elbows as he fixes you with a piercing glance. "Gordon hauled Caleb up to the fuck room yesterday, and Caleb and Chelsea had a long talk, and we think it was about that book."

"How do you know?" you ask.

"Never you mind," James says, but Carson hushes him.

"We have our ways. But Chelsea was talking to him the way it sounds like she talked to you. Gordon hurt himself somehow, and she wanted Caleb's help fixing him. That's the word she used," he adds. "'Fixing' him."

"Which is funny," James says, "because her boyfriend looks as fucking healthy as ever."

"She was also talking about a book," Carson continues, "and she was accusing him—pretty goddamned loudly, too—of stealing it from her."

You feel your eyes widen. "What did Caleb say?"

"He said he didn't take the book, but that he'd help her look for it."

"And what did she say?"

Carson and James look at each other. "She said, 'I'd love that. And if you fix Gordon, I'll even let you be him. For a little while.'" Carson grimaces. "What does that even mean?"

"Sounds obvious to me," James says. "Eww."

But you say nothing, for a feeling of vertigo washes over you, and it takes awhile to mold some fresh and hideous intuitions into cogent thoughts.

Masks and disguises. The dangers and temptations of imposture. That's what the book promised.

In a flash you understand how your mom could have talked to you at home while at the same time you were at school.

But of course, the idea is totally crazy and completely preposterous.

That's all for now.

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