Chapter #22Playing Dress Up by: Seuzz   You quickly turn around. "Get him inside the basement, quick, while I change," you hiss to Caleb.
"What good'll that do?" Caleb hisses back.
"Don't argue, just do it!" You jump back in your truck and have a quick glimpse, as you duck down, of Caleb advancing on a stricken-looking Keith. You lay down and pull the mask off.
* * * * *
"I can't believe what you assholes did," Keith mutters. "Fuck, I can't believe what you were going to do!"
He's sitting on a work table, staring down at the mask in his hands. You and Caleb are sitting nearby, feeling very awkward.
"We told you, it was Patterson's idea," Caleb says.
"Was it Patterson's idea to keep these things a secret from me after you found out how to make them?" he peevishly retorts. "Fuck you guys!"
You and Caleb exchange glances. "It seemed like a good idea to keep it real quiet," Caleb says.
Before Keith can reply, you jump in.
"Look, it's a fucked up scene all around," you tell him. "But arguing about it's not going to help. The question is, what are we going to do now?" The three of you look at each other. But as you're the one who's spoken, it seems they expect you to continue. "I mean, what are we going to tell Patterson? About all this?" The sweep of your arm encompasses Keith and the mask he's holding.
"Why do we have to tell that fucker anything?" Keith asks. "Fuck that, there's three of us and one of him."
"He's got the book!" You know that's not an answer, but it's all you can think to say. "The book, our supplies, our notes. We can't do anything without that stuff."
"You say he's got it in that place over the gym?" Keith says. "We could break in and get it back. I broke in here."
"Yeah, how did you do that?" you ask.
"I picked the lock. I know a few things."
"Wait a minute," Caleb says, rising slowly. He leaps on Keith. "It's a fake, Will! It's Patterson!"
You stand, aghast, as Caleb and Keith grapple with each other—Caleb grabbing at his friend's face while Keith bats him away. "Hey! Hey, hey!" you shout until they both pause. "Caleb's got a point, Keith," you say. "This is out of character for you. We gotta check you out."
"Fuck you," he shouts. But Caleb grabs his hands and forces them down, and Keith grimaces as you pull at his face while murmuring arcane words.
Nothing happens.
"Okay," you sigh. "I guess that proves you're who you seem to be." Caleb also relaxes.
"What about you jerkoffs?" Keith's tone is hot. "Seems to me that you're acting funny!"
Caleb snorts, but you shrug and reach for his face. He flinches at first, but at a look from you submits. "Happy?" he asks sourly. "Now it's your turn." He reaches for you.
"You saw me. I had Keith's face on!"
"Maybe you had one mask on over another," Caleb says shrewdly. "Seems to me you're taking this Lisa business pretty well."
"Oh, fine." You submit yourself to inspection. When he's done: "Now that we all know who we are—"
"Unless Patterson's found a way to keep others from pulling masks off—" Caleb starts.
"Will you stop it? There's no point getting paranoid!" You pant as you shout it, though, for Caleb's suggestion sounds alarmingly plausible. "The break-in idea isn't bad, actually," you continue, and Keith smirks until you add, "But let's save that for an emergency. Until then—" You spread your hands. "Do we tell Patterson that Keith knows about us and the masks?"
"I don't want any trouble," Keith says, raising his own hands in turn. "I don't want any part of this shit. Unless—" he suddenly adds, and his eyes narrow. "You said Patterson said something about using these things to get close to Chelsea?"
You and Caleb groan in unison.
* * * * *
In the end, you decide not to say anything to Patterson, at least not yet. That leaves you and Caleb needing to finish the jobs he's given you.
"Oh, I forgot to say, Patterson said he wanted to know when I was going to hit on Kendra," Caleb says as you drive him back into town to collect his car. "He said he'd set it up so I could get close to her."
You snot. "Thoughtful of him. Maybe he can set up my date with Mansfield too."
"Yeah, how are you going to do that? You're being so smart about these things all of a sudden."
"I have to get a dress first," you sigh. "Oh God, and I don't have the money for that!"
"Maybe you can swipe one of your mom's dresses."
You stare daggers at him.
* * * * *
You wait until everyone seems to be occupied downstairs before quietly creeping into your parents' bedroom. You've done this before—but it was to look for some of your dad's private stuff, not your mom's. Inside the walk-in closet, you push dresses along the rack, eyeballing each briefly. You want something nice but conservative. Sure, you'll have to turn Mansfield on—you shudder at the thought—but you'll be able to do that no matter what you're wearing.
And again you shudder.
You'll also need some underthings. Lisa's breasts are about ... You cup your hands before you as you try to gauge her size. And you're mom's are—
Now you really do flinch. Thinking about your mom's rack is almost worse than thinking about what you'll have to do with Mansfield.
"What are you doing?!"
You leap back with a small shriek. Your mom stands in the closet doorway, hand on hip. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth hangs open. Judging by the curve of her lip, she is either deeply shocked or slightly amused. And possibly both.
"Uh ... Uh ..." Your brain jams up briefly before the words begin to come out.
"It's Lisa," you gabble, speaking almost before the thoughts form. "I'm, uh, I want to buy something for her, and, uh, I was, uh, trying to—" You gulp. "Get some ideas." The panicked rictus that forms on your face feels alien, like it's someone else's mouth spreading leech-like over your own.
Your mom arches her eyebrows, but now she only looks quietly amused.
"Well, that's sweet, honey," she says, "but—" She beckons you from the closet. "You really should let Lisa pick out her own clothes, if you're going to buy something for her. Suppose she doesn't like what you pick?"
"I guess that's right," you admit. "But I wanted to surprise her."
"The wrong kind of surprise is worse than no surprise," she gently says. "Just take her shopping. Let her try on lots of things. Let her show them to you." You blush furiously, but nod. "And then buy her what she likes."
"I guess that would be better. Thing is—" You scratch the back of your neck. "I'm on kind of a budget."
Your mom smiles as she turns to the dresser. "Lisa's a sensible girl," she says as she draws out her billfold and extracts a credit card. "I'm sure she won't buy anything crazy."
"Aw, jeez," you mutter. "I mean— Thanks."
"You'll pay me back, of course," she adds as you take the card.
* * * * *
As with Keith's mask, you have to pass Lisa's on to Patterson to get it sealed before you can use it, so you drop it off with him the next morning at school, and collect it in the afternoon. You briefly wonder if Patterson tried it on after sealing it, then firmly put the resulting vision out of your head.
Caleb offers to go with you on the shopping trip, but you decline—it'll be weird enough without him along. Your heart is thumping wildly as you walk into Nirdlinger's and go straight back to the changing rooms. You swallow hard as you take Lisa's mask out of your bag. Your brush the surface, where her face dimly floats, before turning it over and putting it to your face.
The world is gauzy as you wake, and a soft groan escapes your lips. You sit up uncomfortably. Something is tightly binding your chest—a small but sloppy t-shirt. You frown and pull at it—
You gasp, remembering who you are and what you're doing. A lock of dark hair falls into your face, and as you grasp it to brush it back you pause to run it between your fingers. Lisa's hair. Your hand jerks away as you start to grasp a breast. Business before pleasure, you remind yourself, but at the moment it doesn't sound like pleasure at all.
You dig through your bag for pencil and paper. Measurements, sizes ... Oh, you'll need some shoes! Maybe a belt? What would be some good colors? You shake your head. Too many choices; you'll have to look at things. But you can't go out looking like this. With a sigh you try to hang onto Lisa's intuitions as you pull off the mask.
The next couple of hours pass with you retrieving lots of items, hanging them in the changing booth, changing into Lisa, making decisions, changing back into yourself, and returning to the floor. (As you do so, you try to tell yourself the female clerks aren't watching you out of the corners of their eyes.) Finally, more out of sheer desperation than real conviction, you settle on a modest blue frock, then collect the other sundries you need. At the register, as you hand over the credit card, the paper with Lisa's scribbled measurements falls to the floor. As you retrieve it, your eyes falls on the bit of paper and the graceful loops you've inscribed there. Of course: While in the mask you'd imitated Lisa's handwriting perfectly.
An evil thought forms. With Lisa's head and handwriting, you could arrange major problems for her and Geoff even before the ... date. Notes in his locker that only she could have written, but which she would stoutly maintain she hadn't ...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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