Chapter #42Into the Girl You Go by: Seuzz   Caleb—or someone who looks like him—smothers Jessica under a mask. You were expecting something like this to happen, and at the same time you were totally not expecting it. So you're paralyzed with surprise as Jessica sinks back against her assailant. "Little help here?" he says as he sinks beneath her.
You lurch forward and fumble with your hands, but you can't find a spot to grab onto; and, anyway, you have a well-brought-up boy's sense of decorum about clutching at girls. With an "Oof," Caleb staggers and drops to the ground with Jessica atop him.
"What did you do?" you gasp.
"You saw what I did. Moron. Get her off me. Get her feet." You grasp Jessica by her ankles and help him shift her onto the ground. He grasps the handle to the truck door. "Keys, man."
"How is this supposed to work?"
"Just shut up and help me get her in your truck before someone comes along."
It takes almost a full minute, with you scampering around to the passenger side to pull her into the cab from one side while Caleb pushes her in from the other. Then he hauls you over to another car—a sedan that you recognize as Connor's—and shoves you into it. "I need you to finish this up," he says, and pushes a Tupperware container at you. "Yank off or clip off a bit of your hair and hand it here.
It takes several seconds before your hands and fingers organize themselves to work. You twitch some hair out of the side of your head and hand it back to him. He's dug out the book and a mask.
"This is you," he says as he lays the mask onto the book."We're going to put it onto Jessica, but we have to finish it up first." He drops the hair into the interior of the mask and sets it on fire with a lighter. There's a small flash and an acrid, burning smell. "There," he says as he hands you the mask. "A minion to go."
"Where'd you get this stuff? Connor?" you guardedly ask. "You didn't bring it this morning, did you?"
"I skipped last period, got Justin to pick me up so I could get the stuff together for this meeting. Perfect, right?"
"Perfectly fucked up. You grabbed Jessica in the parking lot while I was talking to her. How are we gonna set it up afterward so she doesn't notice she lost a day?"
"We'll worry about it on the other end. It's not like you're ruining a friendship."
"What do you mean?"
"You're not exactly friends with her."
"I don't want her hating me!"
"We'll worry about it later. For now you need to get undressed," he says as he opens the car door.
"The fuck for?"
"Because Jessica Garner dresses better than you." He gets out and slams the door shut.
Oh yeah. You're going to—
You hiccup.
You're going to be putting on her clothes after putting on a copy of her body. You push off your shoes, tweak off your socks, pull down your pants and underwear, and rip off your shirt. People are passing by in the parking lot, and though they're not paying attention to you, you still duck down to hide.
You're half huddled in the foot well of the car when there's a tap at the window. You roll it down, and Caleb hands you a mask through it. "Have fun, Jessica," he says with a faint leer.
Your heart thumps to life rapidly in your chest. You look over at your truck, and see a head bobbing up and down in the cab, and arms working. "What's going on over there?"
"That's just Will Prescott. He woke up inside a girl's clothes and is trying to get out of them. Hurry up, you'll need to give the minion some orders before leaving."
So, after drawing a ragged breath, you wedge yourself down into the foot well so you won't hurt yourself when you pass out, and push the mask onto your face.
* * * * *
You wake with a feeling of cramp. It's like someone has lifted a hood of darkness from over your head, but has left you boxed in somewhere else. You turn your head with a glare—
And bang your head against something. "Ow," you mouth, and go to touch your head where you banged but find your arm is wedged in between your body and—
More gingerly you look around again. You're inside a car. In the foot well, it looks like, and—
"Ohhhhh!" A queer sense of deja vu filters up from the back of your neck and into the floor of your brain pan. It fills up the interior of your cranium, and your head lolls with dizziness.
You were out in the parking lot, talking to Will Prescott. He was being a pest, as usual—
Is it the dizziness or that alien, mortifying thought that causes you feel nauseated? You close your eyes and try to center. You are wearing a mask of Jessica Garner, which means you've got Jessica Garner's memories, including her memories—complete with emotions—of the talk you were having with her just a few minutes ago. She was impatient because she needed to get back to—
Shit. You snap your eyes open. You've got your own places to be.
You struggle out of the foot well and onto the seat. There are some clothes here. Your clothes. No time to have fun feeling up this new body. You've got to get dressed.
But in dressing you do feel yourself up, at least a little, at least in passing. You get a firm handful of your large, firm breasts—so warm and playful the slang word "puppies" might have been invented specifically for Jessica's pair—as you tuck them into a bra. You smooth and rub your torso as you pull the tube top on. You suck in a sharp breath as you pull the panties up over your crotch, and the skin of your legs tingles as you tug the jeans on. No socks to worry at, just ratty, comfortable canvas sneakers that you slide your feet into and pull the laces tight.
Jewelry? Phone? By your side. You pull the necklace around your throat and fiddle with the catch at the back, but it won't go on, and with a cat-like hiss you shove it into your pocket. The thin bracelets go on easily enough, however, but you hiss again when you check yourself out using the phone as a mirror. A blotchy, distempered, angry face glares back at you. You'll have to stop in the bathroom before you show yourself to your siblings.
A motion catches your eye: Caleb, crooking a finger at you. He's by a white truck. Your truck. Will Prescott's truck. You can see the back of Will's head in the cab. You gulp and get out of the car, and walk quickly over.
"Here's your bag," Caleb says, handing you your—Jessica's—compact orange backpack; you sling it over one shoulder. "And here's your minion." He indicates a pale Will Prescott.
His eyes are crinkled up, and his lip is twisted up in a fearful curl. For a moment you're at a loss as to what to say to him. Then: "Just go home and do what you'd normally do," you tell him. "Try not to get in trouble."
"Too late," he says. "I'm going to miss my curfew."
"Then get going. I'm going to be late too." You step back as he rolls up the window and starts the truck.
"I put the mask for Kelsey in your bag," Caleb says. "You know how to get in touch if you need something?"
"I can call Caleb's number." Not that I want to, the sour thought forms. Jessica is as pissed at Caleb as her sister is. "I don't know how soon I can get to her."
"Well, don't fuck things up," Caleb says. "Jessica's perfectly safe where she is, so there's no real deadline. We just don't want her missing too much."
He lays his hands lightly on your shoulders. Violently you wriggle free, and he frowns. "Sorry," you mutter. "Instinct taking over, that's all."
"I guess that's good," he says. "You don't want anyone thinking you're acting weird." But still he looks concerned.
"I gotta go," you say, and take a step back. Then you turn around and return to the school. It's like when you walked away from Jessica and Lisa at lunch. Only now the feeling of awkwardness comes from sensing your friend's eyes on your back. Probably on your ass.
* * * * *
You could use the girls' locker room to patch yourself back together, but that risks running into Chelsea Cooper, and—
Ugh. A memory of this morning's cheerleader practice flashes into your head. It's disorienting, getting hammered from two sides by Jessica's anger at it and your own native excitement at thinking of the changing room and what else was going on in there. You tell yourself you need to focus, but it's mostly Jessica's own steely determination that keeps you marching to where you need to go: the girls' restroom in F wing.
You need to meet up with Eva and Marc, so you can't dawdle. Marc doesn't care if you're delayed—he's got his stupid friends to talk to—but Eva wants to get home, and she was grouchy when you—when Jessica—said she had to talk to someone first. Jessica didn't even say it was you: she knew Eva would react badly to your name.
Cunt.
You pause just inside the bathroom door. Kelsey has tennis practice after school. Maybe you should tell Eva and Marc to head home, and try to intercept Kelsey after tennis. That might bring things to a quick head.
Or—
Your hand goes to your bosom.
You could stretch out the fun a little longer.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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