This choice: Okay, you'll talk to ... her? • Go Back...Chapter #33Thimbleriggery by: Seuzz   You look between your dad and "Jessica." "Um," you say.
"You can talk on the front porch," your dad says.
You turn to Jessica. She stares back. Stiffly, you gesture her to precede you outside.
Son of a bitch, you wonder as you follow her out. Who is this? I thought Marc said he was getting rid of her mask!
"Your dad says you're grounded," the "girl" says as you pull the front door shut behind you.
"Yeah. Except for the next ten minutes, I guess. So make this fast."
"Okay." She wheels on you. "Look, I know what's going on." When you only blink at her, she continues.
"I ran into Marcos this afternoon," she says. "Or he ran into me. I was coming out of Panera." Her eyes narrow, and her voice falls into a hiss. "He thought I was you."
"Oh, fuck," you groan. "I wish people would stop assuming it's me every time they see— I mean, I only did it the two times, and the second time was only 'cos Marc— Anyway, what are you doing with her mask?" And who are you? But you don't want to put yourself at a disadvantage by asking it.
But you falter as her stare hardens. What the fuck is going on? you wonder.
"Well, thanks for confirming it," she spits. "So don't bother trying to bluff your way out of it! You couldn't anyway, I got Marcos off alone and bent his arm back until he came clean about the whole fucking thing!"
"About what?" You're still trying to figure out what the gag is.
Her eyes blaze. "About the shit you cocksuckers are pulling! With those masks!"
You stare very hard at her, as though by boring into her eyes with yours you can spot who it really is.
"Will, I fucking swear," she cries, "I'm going to pop you in the—"
"Oh, cut it out!" you yell. "I'm not going for it!" You point at her face. "You know, Marc's gonna cut your balls off—whoever you are—if he catches you in that thing. In fact, I should text him right now, telling him that someone got ahold of Jessica's gear. He was going to get rid of— Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
You cry out as she grabs you by the wrist, spins you around, and wrenches your arm up behind your back.
"I'm not fucking around, Will," she snarls. "Like, I know that someone was at my house today when I was supposed to be out with my friends, and that that someone said something to Eva that got her super-pissed-off at me! Marcos says you guys made things so that you could make yourselves up to look like other people—including me!—and it's how come—"
She forces your arm further out of your socket, and her voice falls into a vicious hiss.
"And that's how come people've been seeing two of me around when there's only supposed to be one other girl who looks like me and then only sort-of! And I also know that my dear, dear brother is mixed up in it all, and that you're the one that he put up to—!"
"Okay, okay!" It feels like your shoulder is about to crack open. "What do you want me to say?"
She shoves you away. Even in the lowering dark of the night you can see her eyes blaze out.
"I want you to tell me exactly what's been going on," she says. "I got a lot of it out of Marcos, but he finally squirmed loose and hightailed it off. But he said that you're the one who started it all, and you're the one who's been pulling this shit on me and my sister!"
* * * * *
Well, whatever. You're not even a quarter-convinced that this is really Jessica, but what's the harm in telling one of the guys a back story that he already knows?
But as you relate the story of the book you found at Arnholm's, and what you made with it, and how you showed it to Laurent, and how he and more of his friends got more and more into it, and made more and more masks, you feel your certainties falter. By the time your dad has started tapping at the front window to let you know your time is up, a numbing horror has begun creeping over you. There is no way one of the guys would sit still for this recital of a story they already know. Only someone who didn't know about it all—someone like, well, Jessica Garner—would listen raptly as you relate the adventures the guys have had.
"Okay," she growls you when you've stammered to a stop. "I want you to keep quiet about this." She glances at the front window, where your dad has appeared for a fourth time. "You don't tell anyone I came by, or that you told me any of this, okay?"
You make a face, and give an insincere nod.
"I have to think about it," she hisses, half to herself. "Oh, Jesus, this is all kinds of fucked up! I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"I'm grounded," you remind her.
"Then I'll text you!"
She stalks off. Only then do you notice what looks like the final confirmation that it's real girl: The Garners' minivan is parked by the curb.
"Give me your phone," your dad tells you when you're back inside the house. "No phone or internet privileges the rest of the weekend."
"Dad!"
"I told you ten minutes. You were out there for thirty."
You sigh raggedly and surrender your phone to him.
* * * * *
So you're able to keep your promise to not tell anyone you talked to Jessica, but you're also not able to talk to her. Not until your dad gives you your phone on Monday morning, as you're leaving for school, do you find Jessica's irate texts demanding to know why you're ignoring her. Her last text is an all-caps command: MEET ME IN LIBRRY MONDAY SECND PERIOD OR FUCKING ELSE.
The only other texts are one from Laurent, asking if you want someone to cover for you at your house on Sunday; one from Eva, apologizing for dropping out of texts; and one from Caleb, asking how your sanity is holding up with being grounded. The last one is especially funny, in a bitter kind of way.
You're slouched in your desk first period when Laurent swaggers into the classroom, and the moment he does you lunge up and over at him. He rears back as you grapple at him, then suffers to follow you outside.
"The fuck were you doing on Saturday?" you yell at him. He only stares at you. "Hello? At my house, covering for me? What were you doing?"
"I didn't cover for you," he says. Then he blinks. "Wait, what?"
"Wasn't that you who went in for me, when you and me switched out in Brownie's truck?"
"Well, yeah, but—" His puzzlement deepens. "Didn't Marcos get a text to you?"
"A text?" you echo.
"He's the one that covered for you. Yeah," he continues as your jaw drops. "I got into your place—z'like butter, man, like I toldja—and there was a text to you from him, saying he could come in and cover for you. So I was, like, shit, less work for me." Laurent cocks his head. "So I jogged out to that old school down the street from you, switched out with him there. He said he was going to text you, tell you what we were doing."
Your fingers curl up hard.
"No, he didn't text me!" you growl. "I thought it was you! Wait!" You glare at him. "Was someone goofing around with my gear on Friday night? When I stayed in?"
"Your gear? Friday?" His gaze goes distant, then clears up. "Oh yeah! Marcos didn't tell you about that either?"
"I haven't said one fucking word to Marcos since he asked me to—!"
"Shh! Don't lose your shit, man." Laurent's tone turns reproachful. "I don't know what you're yelling about. So Marcos covered for you instead of me, so what? You got covered either way, you—"
"What is he doing with Eva?"
Now Laurent looks at you like you've grown another head. "What do you mean, 'what's he doing with Eva'? What do you think he's— You mean Friday night?"
"I mean Friday night, I mean Thursday night, I mean Saturday after—!"
"Will you keep your fucking shit together?" Now Laurent flushes. "I don't know what the fuck you're yelling at me about, man, if you got a problem with Marcos"—the bell rings, and he glances over his shoulder—"go talk to him. Me, I don't know the fuck you're babbling about, except I know he took her out Friday night 'cos I think Marc asked him to."
"In my gear?"
"We have to get to class, Will, but yes, in your gear. That way it wouldn't be weird, like it was him was hitting on her."
He gives you a sour look, then turns and saunters back into the school, leaving you dumbstruck with confusion.
* * * * *
You have a headache by the time first period lets out, but you grit your teeth and go to the library to meet Jessica anyway. She only has to time to glare up at you before you shut her down.
"My dad confiscated my phone the instant you left Saturday night," you tell her, "so I didn't get your texts until this morning. And I couldn't get online because he turned the wifi off. My dad is a hard ass." You fall into a chair and return her glare with one of your own.
"Alright," she says in a very grudging tone of voice, and her chair scrapes across the floor as she pulls up close. "So here's the thing, I want you to bring me some of this stuff you've been making, I want to look at it myself. When can you get it to me?"
You blink. "Well, tomorrow. Or," you add when she frowns, "you can ask your brother to show you. He's—"
"This is between you and me," she says. "No one else gets to know I know about this."  You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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