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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/955336
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by Seuzz Author IconMail Icon
Rated: GC · Book · Occult · #2183311
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises.
#955336 added March 30, 2019 at 10:52am
Restrictions: None
Making a Case from a Different Direction
Previously: "The School When Viewed from On HighOpen in new Window.

Yeah, you like the idea of using your current disguise to push Eva and Caleb closer together. It's like using the masks for good deeds.

* * * * *

Eva is at that same table in the library where you met her before. She does a double take when she looks up to see you, and her face tells you it's not a double take of pleasure. She adopts an expression of studious neutrality as you pull out a chair. "Hey Eva."

"Hey yourself. I haven't seen Chelsea, if that's who you're looking for."

"No, I came in here for study hall. Usually I hang out in the gym, you know." You can't resist the temptation to casually flex your brawny arms in front of a pretty girl. "But today I'm in here. Saw you. Mind if I sit with you?"

"You already are." She lowers her head, returning her attention to her cell phone. She seems to think better of it, though, and shuts it off to pull her homework closer. Obviously, she's trying to freeze you out.

But you're not going to let her. "I hear you picked up a boyfriend."

She twitches. "No. Where did you hear -- ? Oh. From Chelsea, right?"

Sure, that works, and is more believable than any other excuse. "Yeah. She even pointed him out to me. She was all, like, can you believe that? But I don't see what the big deal is. I bet you'd be great together."

"Don't fuck with me." The sharpness of her tone surprises you.

"I'm not fucking with you. I'm serious. I bet you'd be great together. I mean, if you like each other -- "

"We're not going together, okay? So just stop it." She's turned pink.

You stare at her, even though she's got her head bent and is furiously scribbling nonsense gibberish in her notebook. The miserable bitch is actually giving in to peer pressure, even though you're trying to support her. "Hey, if you wanna throw away a chance to be with a great guy," you tell her, "I guess that's your right. But you don't have to be pissy about it just because -- "

That gets her to raise her face. "I'm not being pissy! And do you even know who he is?"

That question, of course, shouldn't get an honest answer. "No. Who is he?"

"It doesn't matter, because we're not -- " She is now very red. "Fuck off, Gordon, I don't want to talk to you."

And that's too much for you. If you were being yourself you'd let it lie, you'd retreat in anger and resentment. Of course, if you were being yourself, you wouldn't even be having this conversation.

But it's no skin off your nose if Gordon Black pisses her off. Besides, she's pissed you off real good.

You snatch the pencil from her fingers and hurl it behind you. She swings around to glare at you with open-mouthed fury. But you keep your voice quiet. Firm, but quiet.

"What are you pissed at me for, Eva? I'm not one of your fucking girlfriends, and I'm not one of your fucking cheerleader cunts. If you don't want me to care than I won't care." That's a lie, but it comes out anyway. "But Chelsea says you're seeing this guy, and I think Good for Eva. That's all, because it's nice when people are together. Isn't it? I don't give a fuck who you're going out with, but if they make you happy then what the fuck, you know? So why are you all defensive when I sit down and tell you, you know, I hear you found someone, I hope you're having a good time and I hope he's good for you?"

Eva's face has passed through several different colors while you're talking, and it still hasn't settled on a final shade when you finish. "Are you serious?" she stammers.

"Sure. So what's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem. It's just that I'm not dating Caleb, and I don't like people assuming I am."

"No? So why does Chelsea think you are?"

"I don't know! Ask her!"

"Is that why you're in a shit mood? Because Chelsea's giving you shit about it?"

Eva turns a light shade of purple, and doesn't answer.

"That is it, isn't it? God damn it, Eva, why do you pay attention to her? Her opinion doesn't count for shit." You feel very lightheaded as you say this, for you know you are courting disaster with Gordon by putting those traitorous words in his mouth.

Maybe she feels the same thing, for her eyes widen and her mouth falls open. But she doesn't say anything.

"So, do you like this guy or don't you?"

"Uh. He's a friend."

"Did you go on a date or didn't you?"

"Well, we had dinner together."

"So Chelsea's pitching a fit because you had dinner with a friend? And that's got you shitting yourself? Christ, do you let her tell you who you can be friends with? Who you can eat with?"

"No," she says defiantly. But she has to follow it up with a near-takeback. "But she has opinions. You know that."

"Yeah, tell me about it," you improvise. "But don't tell me she's got you pussy-whipped."

All the features on Eva's face try to go in a couple of different directions at the same time. When she recovers, she gives you a narrow look, and her tone turns tentative. "Are you saying she's got you, uh -- ?"

"Within reason." Gordon is going to kill me, you think.

Her manner turns even more careful. "You know, a couple of days ago, you, uh, you took a guy out to the portables at lunch time."

She must be talking about the day Gordon hauled you out there. But you're not going to assume that's what she's talking about. "I haul lots of guys out there. You should be more specific."

"A guy with blonde hair and a white ball cap. Kind of gangly and silly looking."

Fuck you, Eva. "Oh, him. What about him?"

"Chelsea asked you to do that, didn't she?" Distaste shows on her face.

"Okay, yeah. So what?"

"Well, he's a friend of my other friend, the one I had dinner with. You know why Chelsea wanted him, uh, disciplined?"

"He was mouthing off to her or something."

"It's because he was saying the same things to her that you're saying. That she shouldn't tell people who to be friends with, that if I wanted to date Caleb -- " She starts to turn pink again. "That it was my business, not hers."

For a terrifying moment you think she's about to accuse you of being Will Prescott in disguise. But then you see the point she's trying to make, and you brush it off. "So what? I get to say that kind of stuff about Chelsea. Other guys don't."

"Oh." Her eyes narrow again. "Does Chelsea know you get to say that kind of stuff?"

Gordon told you and Caleb that he's in the doghouse with Chelsea, on account of his failure to deal with you. Presumably, word of this has got back to Eva. "She knows I say it," you reply. "She just doesn't agree with me that I get to say it."

Eva smiles tightly. "Well, thanks for caring about me, Gordon." Maybe she means it sincerely, but it comes out sarcastic.

"I told you, I don't care. I'm just telling you what I think." You glance around. "I guess we should do some work, since it is a study hall." You take out the Spanish and start on that. If you can get it done, you can pass it along to Gordon to re-copy in his own handwriting.

* * * * *

Eva also has fourth-period lunch, so you go into the cafeteria together. Gordon gave you careful instructions on how to handle his dad, but none on how to handle Chelsea. He also gave you permission to be intimate with her if you got her to forgive him. As you survey the cafeteria -- and spot Chelsea at the table in the middle of the room -- you wryly conclude that Gordon is intentionally making it hard for his doppelgangers to close the sale with his girlfriend.

Internally, you shudder at the sight of the people at the table. Steve Patterson, Jason Lynch and Dalton Douglas are there: jock-bullies all. The girls are much easier on the eye, but they're always snooty and horrible to you: Kendra Saunders, Gloria Rea, and Chelsea herself. There's an empty space next to Gordon's girlfriend, so you figure it must be for him -- and hence for you. You catch Eva giving you a funny look as you lope over to the table in her company. She sits on the end while you drop onto the space next to Chelsea. Then --

Oh, wow. You do something you would never be able to do, or even dare to fantasize about, before you bought that grimoire. You put your arm around Chelsea Cooper's waist.

She wriggles out from it and gives you the kind of look that she would give Will Prescott. Her voice is cold. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Sitting down to lunch with you."

"Do you see any food in front of us? Any trays? No? Why not?" A sneer of contempt settles on her lip.

It's like Caleb told you yesterday: She is pissed at Gordon, and she is going to make you and him pay for it.

But then it occurs to you: She's not your girlfriend, and she's probably not going to put out anyway. So why should you have suffer on account of Gordon Black?

Next: "A Lunch Where No One Knows Your NameOpen in new Window.

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