Chapter #39Who's That Girl? by: Seuzz   Like a blanket of fog being pierced by sunlight, the haze slowly lifts from your mind and eyes. You blink and sit up on your elbows.
You do a double-take at the seat next to you: It's also reclined, and a figure sprawls in it, face turned away from you. You sit up sharply and look around: Joe has parked by the side of the road.
Hair falls over your face, and you flip it back. And as you tuck a strand behind your ear you gasp and whirl: Someone is behind you! Now they're behind you this way! And they're still behind you!
You whirl and whirl, convinced that someone—a ghost or a spirit—is creeping up on you. A deep tremble runs through you, and you retch slightly. A dizziness envelops you, and when it clears you are still trembling, for now you feel that presence inside you, wrapping itself about you, invading your mind and stealing over your will. Like a hand thrusting deeply into the crevices of your body, Monique Travers fills your hollow spaces, flexes, and blooms there.
Your teeth chatter and you hug yourself. You are so cold. More than a little frightened, too. But you also know that it's not you who are frightened. It's the freshman girl who is scared. And you sense that you only have to relax—even for just a moment—and you'll fall into her fright, into her emotions, into her instincts, and into everything else she has that's clawing at the inside of your skull.
But despite this invasion of your core, you still know yourself, and—though with no little trembling of your own will—you put her behind you. The first thing is to get out of the business suit you're drowning inside, and into the jeans and woolly socks and sweater that Monique was sensibly dressed in. Where are they? Oh, in the back. You pull them into the front seat and start peeling.
You're naked, and trying to get the bra on, when you become aware that eyes have settled on you. You flinch from the figure in the next seat, who is watching you quietly and mirthfully. Your hand flies out to slap him. "Turn around, you pervert!"
"Alright, alright! I couldn't help it," Jonathan Straussler laughs. "I started watching and then—"
"Just change your clothes!"
"I did before we left." He sits up. "Need some help?" He puts his fingertips to your back—
Jonathan touches your back, then slips his hand into yours; you take it shyly, tentatively, as you walk along the sidewalk in front of the school. A motor grinds behind you, and you turn. "Bye Monique, bye Jonathan!" Sara Alvarez calls and waves from the bus as it goes past. You wave—still holding Jonathan's hand—and grin back. Jonathan softly kisses the top of your head as you head round the cafeteria toward student parking. You nestle against his shoulder. Jonathan opens the door of his car and helps you in. "Yo, we still on for that camping trip this weekend?" he yells at Conor Nilsson, one of his teammates. "Awesome," he shouts when Conor gives him a thumb's up. He gets in the driver's side. "Are you really going camping?" you ask in a small voice. Jonathan adjusts the mirror. "Nah, just staying in character, I'll blow him off with an excuse tomorrow." "Good, 'cos I got plans to suck you off all weekend." You yank down his pants zipper. "Christ, Todd, it was all I could do to keep from going down on you at lunch in the cafeteria."
You shake your head clear and brush Jonathan away. "Quit it! I know what you're thinking!"
"No you don't, 'cos I don't know."
"Don't lie! You're thinking about all the times we— I mean that Monique and Jonathan— You know, she was a virgin before he shoved that mask onto her face and his cock up her—!" You gag. Who was in here before you? Whoever it was, they were sex-starved, and they did it without protection.
"Whoa, Prescott, you're really getting into being Monique. How long have you been awake?"
"Long enough! And what do you mean I'm getting into being Monique?" You hurl away the recalcitrant bra and pick up the sweater. You can't find the opening, and it gets all twisted up in your hands, and tears gush from your eyes. "Oh, God! I feel so dirty! It was all so—hic!—You were all, like—hic!—except at school, but then you were—!"
Jonathan slaps you. You cry out and put a hand to your cheek.
He looks very serious, even a little worried. "Snap out of it, Prescott. You're not this girl, you're only pretending to be her. Get a grip and remember who you are. You know who you are, right?"
You nod, but hiccup again.
"Good. Didn't you ever want a pair of awesome hooters to fondle?" He grabs your hands, and you wince hard as he slaps them onto your naked breasts. "Remember, you're an eighteen-year-old pervert boy fondling the body of a fourteen-year-old girl from the inside. Hang on to that fact, and onto the fact that you want to have fun. What I mean is, stay yourself. Okay?"
You gulp, but nod. He's right.
"Now, let me help you with your things." He picks up the bra, and expertly clasps it onto you. He helps with the other things while you talk. "When I said you were getting into it, I only meant you'd fallen pretty hard into her personality. To be honest, you're acting exactly the way I'd expect the real girl to act."
"Isn't it supposed to work that way?"
"Yes, but shouldn't you have it under better control?"
"I don't know. This is new to me. But it's like—" You wipe the tears away. "It's like I can't tell where her personality stops and mine starts. Don't you have the same feeling?"
"No I don't. Frankly, I'm glad I don't have to convince anyone right now that I'm Jonathan Straussler, because I couldn't even tell you his phone number."
You tell it to him.
"Huh. That sounds kind of right, but I wouldn't swear to it. As for how we're supposed to act around each other, well, I know Jonathan and Monique were always lovey-dovey, because she's so virginal, so I guess I should just hold your hand—"
"I can get the rest of it," you tell him, and get to work pulling on panties and jeans. "What are we supposed to be doing?"
He watches you carefully until you're done dressing, then takes out a slip of paper and a cell phone. "Looking up fakes," he says. "We should get started. I was going to start with Jenny Taylor, 'cos we have Kyle's mask, but I think we'll go with Darcy Whitehead first." He frowns for a bit, and scrolls a thumb across the pad of his phone. "Fuck, I can't even think how Jonathan's got his—"
"Let me try." You take it from him, and quickly find the call list and Darcy's number.
Joe shakes his head, mutters something, and puts the phone to his ear. "Darcy," he exclaims. "Cool. This is Jonathan. We had some fun this morning, didn't we?" He laughs. "Listen, I got a message from the boss man. I need to come pick you up, and then we need to head over to—" He checks that paper again. "167 Ezra Drive. That's right. Oh, and to make it easier, call ahead, tell her to go out to Eastman and wait. Uh huh. Well, I'll tell you when we pick you up. Be there in a few." He hangs up.
"I don't understand what's going on," you say as he starts up the car. "Who lives at 167 Ezra Drive?"
"Someone named Rebecca, that's all I know," he says. "Frank found a list at Straussler's. It looks like they were using his place as their headquarters, and they had a cross-listing of addresses and names. The addresses, that's where the doppelgangers originally lived. So what we're going to do is take them back to their houses, rip the masks off them, and skedaddle."
"What about the people they were pretending to be? Like, the real Darcy?"
"Same thing. You know how you found me and Frank under some masks, but we had amnesia? They did the same thing with the kids they replaced. So, the Rebecca person is pretending to be Darcy, and she's probably got the real Darcy stuck under a mask of Rebecca like I was stuck under Jonathan's dad. They did something to those masks, it not only gives the wearer amnesia but it also makes them, like, a slave of the doppelganger. God-damned clever when you think about it. The way they had it set up, no one disappeared, the original people couldn't call for help, but the assholes still got a body swap."
"Oh my God!"
"Yeah. So, we're telling the doppelgangers to send their fakes, like the fake Rebecca, to the school. When we've got them all together, we'll rip the masks off them and then Darcy and the rest will be free. Meanwhile, we'll have ripped the masks off Rebecca and her friends."
"But won't they be able to use the book to make more masks and do it all over again?"
"I don't know," Joe says. "That's the million-dollar question. They haven't talked about this in front of Monique? You don't remember anything about the book?"
You shake your head.
"Well, then, here's where it gets interesting," he says, and looks very grave. "Because they lost that book while they were making the move from Westside to Eastman. It looks like someone walked away with it, and none of the doppelgangers knows who the thief is."  You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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