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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/978737
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by Seuzz Author IconMail Icon
Rated: GC · Book · Occult · #2180093
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises.
#978737 added March 21, 2020 at 4:04pm
Restrictions: None
The Mature Choice
Previously: "Keeping (It) Up with the PrescottsOpen in new Window.

by Nostrum

A crowded school hallway is no place to talk about the stuff you and Caleb need to talk about, so you tell him you'll see him in English. You feel his glower upon your back as you scoot away through the jostling herd.

Give a little thought to what you want to be in the future, your dad had said. He meant it, of course, to goad you into being more responsible. And as the morning wears on, you feel the force of his advice more. When you catch up to Caleb in Ms. Gladstone's class, you've got your answer.

"Fuck you!" he exclaims when you tell him you won't help dig the time capsule up again. "How often do I ask you for help, and this—" His eyes pop. "This is the second time you've screwed me over! At least!"

"When did I ever—?"

"With your dad and that job! Cocksucker!"

"Caleb!" You and your friend both whirl at the loud growl from the teacher, who glares up at him from behind her desk. "If you can't keep it under control—"

Caleb hunkers down in his desk, his face black with anger.

You lean over. "Look, I'm sorry about all that," you tell him. "And about this. It's just that my dad— And I did talk to him, man! I did put in a good word for you, and he said—"

"What fucking big favors you pass out," Caleb hisses back. "Oh, and by the way, I did talk to Eva and Jessica, about how come Lisa broke up with you."

You blink. "You did?"

"Yeah. They said she broke up with you because you were a big, sloppy dork she was embarrassed to be seen with."

You straighten up, and feel your own face darken with anger. "You know what, maybe we should just avoid each other until we're both feeling calmer."

"Suits me," Caleb mutters. "See you at our fiftieth high school reunion."

--

So, naturally, you don't eat lunch with him, as you normally do. Instead you go out front to look for your back-up gang of friends.

So far it's just Carson Ioeger out on the grassy quad in front of the school, lounging on his side and catching some rays. He jerks his chin as you shamble up, and the bandanna he affects to keep his frizzy hair under control falls off. "'S'up, man?" he asks. "Where's your boyfriend?"

You grimace at him. "Where's yours?" Carson is rarely to be found without James Lamont, his partner in geeky mischief.

"He's coming. Wants to make sure Jenny's not lost or something. Oh hey, there they come now." He gazes past you, and you turn to look. Sure enough, James Lamont—tall, skinny, wrapped in blue jeans and a fleece jacket—is approaching on long legs with the tomboyish Jenny Ashton at his side.

You concentrate on unpacking your lunch. So much stupid, fumbling romantic drama with Carson and his gang, you think. James has a crush on Jenny. Paul Davis has a crush on Yumi Saito. Both girls know it but neither girl will do anything about it. So you concentrate on your sandwich and chips as the other settle in and gossip about stuff that bores you.

Carson apparently notices your mood, though, because when there's a lull in the talk he clears his throat at you. "So what's up with you and Caleb?"

"Huh? Nothing. What's makes you think—?"

"You're eating with us, not with him. And when you do eat with us, he's always along." Carson grins at you. "You two have a domestic?"

You're still mad enough at Caleb that you want sympathy, so— "Caleb's mad because I won't help him commit a felony."

The others stop in mid-chew at that. Looks are exchanged, and sidelong glances thrown in your direction. You hold your tongue until Carson can't stand it any longer. "Okay, Prescott," he says, "I'll bite. What felony—?"

"He wants me to help him dig up that time capsule our class buried," you explain. "I told him no."

There's a pause. Then James says, "How is that a felony?"

"I dunno," you admit. "But it's a crime!"

"How is it a crime?"

"Oh, Jesus, Prescott," Carson groans. "When did you become such an old woman?"

"Pussy," James corrects him.

"Old woman!" Carson retorts. "Prescott's being worse than a pussy, he's being a—"

Jenny interrupts. "Why does Caleb want to dig up the time capsule?"

"I dunno. On account of he wants to get his dingus out of it."

Carson's eyebrows go up. "Johansson donated his cock and balls to the future? Of course," he adds, "it's not like he was getting any use out of them in the here and now." He raises a skinny hand, and James high-fives him.

"A flash drive. He put a flash drive in the capsule, but he wants to get it back."

"The fuck for?" James asks. "He can just get—"

"Is this the one with the goat porn on it?" Carson asks. "You remember," he tells the group. "Johansson was gonna put goat porn, or something like that, onto a stick and put it in the capsule. So did he forget to keep a copy for himself?" he asks you. "Is that how come he's so desperate to get it back?" Again, he and James high-five each other.

"Beats me," you confess. "All I know is, I had a talk with my dad about being more responsible, and I'm trying to do better. And I don't think helping Caleb to dig up a time capsule is the kind of thing he had in mind."

No one says anything, and you feel yourself blushing under their stares. As soon as you said it, your little speech struck even you as a lot of prissy bullshit.

Jenny leans over to pat you on the knee. "I think that's admirable of you, Will," she says.

"You would," Carson snorts. He gives you the beady eye.

"It's your senior year, Prescott," he says. "It's a little early to be acting 'responsible', don't you think? And with graduation coming full tilt at us, pretty soon it's not like you're going to have a choice about whether to be responsible or not."

--

Carson's words reverberate through the rest of the day. Pretty soon you will have to start acting responsible, because you're not going to have any choice. His unspoken corollary: Better have your fun while you can.

But what kind of fun?

The answer, you know, you're carrying in your backpack. That mask you made, which you brought to school. You need to try it on someone, to see if it will work.

You're at your locker, changing out your books, when your friend Keith Tilley bounds up. "Hey man," he says, "Just checkin' to tell you I can't hang out with you this afternoon."

"How come?" you ask, even though you weren't planning on hanging out with Keith.

"Doin' something with my film club peeps. Mike and Carlos are—"

"I mean, how come you're telling me?"

"To keep you in the loop." Then he makes a face. "Fuck you too, man. All's I know is you and Johansson are having a lover's quarrel, so I figure one of you or the both are wanna gonna come cry on my shoulder, and I'm telling you—"

"I don't need to cry on anyone's shoulder!"

"Oh." His lip curls. "So you got it out of your system when you cried all over Carson and them."

"Is there a fucking point to this, man, or you just trying to be a douchebag?"

You half-expect him to fly off the handle at you, but he just gives an elaborate shrug. "It's not like you got a lotta friends to hang out with, man, and I figure you might be looking for one, and I'm telling you I can't be available this afternoon for you. That's all."

"Well, thanks. I'll go home and cry into my pillow then instead."

"Yeah," he drawls. "You got a lot of practice at that with Lisa, din'cha?"

Then he scampers off before you can hit him.

You close up your stuff and stalk into the nearest restroom. Marc Garner is at the sink, fixing up his spiky haircut. His eyes glint as he glances over at you.

"Hey Will," he says. "You hanging out after school?"

"I 'unno," you mumble as you unbutton yourself at the urinal. Marc is a jock (a soccer player), but he's one of the good ones, so you've no worries about making yourself vulnerable this way. "Maybe go do some homework in the library," you add. You sometimes do that when you don't feel like closing yourself up in your room to stew.

"Cool," he says. "Maybe I'll join you."

Whoa! Didn't Keith just say you don't have any friends? Yet here's Marc, who you hardly know, saying he might hang out with you. "Yeah, sure," you reply as you zip yourself up. "Come keep me company." Marc gives you a sidelong smile as you wash up in the sink next to him, but lingers after you leave.

Carson (along with a lot of other people) is also in the library when you go in. But he's preoccupied with his own books, and doesn't see you.

You hug your bag to your chest as you take a seat. Marc. Carson. Both these guys are candidates to try copying into the mask, if you try making a move today. Hell, Keith is a candidate--you just have to get with him this weekend.

Of course, you can also experiment by putting the mask onto yourself.

Or maybe you should follow your dad's advice, and just forget about the mask altogether.

Next: "To Con a MarcOpen in new Window.

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