Chapter #9Feeling Feminine by: Seuzz   "What are you talking about," you blurt out.
"Keep your voice down," Chelsea hisses. You dart a quick glance over your shoulder, but Mr. Cash is still absorbed in his work. "It's that new spell," Chelsea continues. "We're going to use it so you guys can replace Jonas and Cara." You and Caleb stare at her, and she looks nervously at your friend. "That's the way it works, right? We'll make masks of you two, and put that new stuff in them. That'll hide Jonas and Cara while you two replace Jonas and Cara."
You find your voice again, but can only stammer. "Look, this is-- What you're talking about is--"
Caleb is more direct. "I think we only have to make a mask that uses the new spell. We don't actually have to put it on anyone."
"Yes, but this way we can hang while trying to find a cure for Gordon, and it won't look weird," Chelsea says with preternatural cool. "And it's going to happen. You're going to switch. Aren't they, Gordon?"
"Whatever Chelsea says," Gordon says dully.
Your heart beats wildly, and you're not sure if it's because she's proposing that you steal the lives of other people, or that you give up your own.
"How long do we have to be these other people," Caleb asks.
"Until you fix Gordon," Chelsea says. "That'll give you an incentive, won't it?"
You swallow. What started as a request for help has metamorphosed into something more like blackmail. You're so disoriented by the sudden change that you can't stop Caleb from slipping in first. "I call dibs on Jonas, then" he says, and looks sidelong at you. "I don't know who this Cara person is."
"She's a junior," Chelsea says. "Do you know her, Will?" You shake your head. "Well, I'll tell you all about her when you come over to my house for the switch. Five o'clock. I've already got it set up." She looks back at Caleb. "Same with Jonas. Stick around after school. Gordon will find you." She smiles. "So it's all set then, isn't it, guys?"
You open your mouth to object, but stop cold at the sight of Gordon, who lowers his head to glower at you. You wilt and rub your eyes, then nod wearily.
"Five o'clock," Chelsea says firmly as you turn to go. "I'll text you my address."
* * * * *
The lunch period ends only a few minutes later, so you and Caleb have to part without consulting further. You go to your next class in a daze. Cara Fuhrman. The name means nothing to you, and you're pissed at Caleb for leaping in ahead of you. At least you know who Jonas Martin is. Basketball player, kind of a rough character. You wince. Basketball means being at Gordon's mercy, which means it's probably not a good situation, but at least he's a known quantity. This other girl, though …
You lean over and poke Keith Tilley, who shares the class with you. "Do you know Cara Fuhrman," you quietly ask.
"Never heard of her," he replies. "Is she sexy?"
"I don't know who she is. I think she's a junior, though."
"Then why would I care?" He gives you a close look, and his mouth curls into a smile. "Give up on finding a girlfriend in the senior class?"
"Shut up." You slump back in your desk. At least you won't have to deal with Tilley anymore.
You won't have to deal with anyone from your old life, it sounds like.
The thought preys on you sufficiently that you go looking for Lisa after class. She's at her locker, her back to you. You linger in the crowded hall with other students bumping against you. Mansfield is with her, leaning over and talking quietly to her, or else you'd go up and say something. Anything. Mansfield catches sight of you. He smiles nastily, and puts his arm around Lisa.
You turn away and head back down the hall, even though your final class is the other way.
* * * * *
"You're early," Chelsea says brightly. "Come on up!" You nod at Mrs. Cooper, who is beaming brightly at you and her daughter, and slowly trudge up the stairs. You wonder how common it is for kids like you to show up at the Cooper house.
"I'm glad you showed up early," Chelsea says as she shows you into her bedroom. You pause in the doorway and take it in. It's all in pinks and apricots and golds: tasteful and feminine without being girly. Trophies line the shelves, next to framed photographs showing Chelsea from age ten up in a variety of poses with friends. A week ago you'd have given anything to be here, with Chelsea smiling so warmly at you. Now …
She's talking about Caleb, but you haven't heard what she's said. "Tell me about Cara," you interrupt when she takes a breath.
"Oh, you'll know all about her--more than I can tell you--when you are her," Chelsea gushes. "But don't worry. She's going to be a star." She touches your elbow. "You're going to be on the cheerleading squad with me!"
You blink and shiver. It's a delicious feeling. On the cheerleader squad. That means being in the changing room when Chelsea and Kendra and Gloria and Yumi and-- "She's not a cheerleader, though," you object. "I know who all the--" You stop and turn red.
Chelsea giggles. "Of course you do. And she's not on the team yet. But Coach Tesla has been bugging me to add some junior girls. So we'll be getting rid of some of the deadwood and adding some junior girls. You can help me pick new girls after--" She giggles again.
You put your hands in your pockets. Dammit, you're getting aroused.
Chelsea pulls a bluish-white object from the bag on her table. "Gordon's so clever," she says. "Normally these things take forever to make, but he found a way to speed it up. So I made a bunch on Sunday. We'll get you copied before Cara gets here." She hands you the object.
It's a mask, thin and oval, with small protuberances that make it look like an old-fashioned tragedian's mask, but there are no eye-holes. It seems to burn in your hand.
Chelsea pushes you gently onto her bed. "Just put it on. It'll knock you out, so--"
"I know how it works," you snap, even though you don't, not really. You look down at it, then take a breath and put it to your face.
* * * * *
You open your eyes with a groan. Your head feels like it's full of thick gauze. You don't sit up, and just turn your head. Chelsea is sitting at her desk, holding the mask and blowing into it. "You're finally awake," she says. "Good. Cara just called to say she's on her way over. She sounds excited." She casts a mischievous glance at you. "Are you excited, Will?"
"I feel half dead," you grumble, and rub your eyes.
"Well, maybe you'd better take it in the bathroom." She nods at a door on the other side of the room. "Splash some water on your face, and wait until I call you back out."
You wince as you sit up, and pad into the bathroom. Cool water doesn't fully revive you, and you gaze at your face in the mirror. It's thin, and is both flushed and pale. Your straw-like hair sticks out in every direction. You lean against the counter and wait for what seems like a very long time.
Eventually you hear voices: piping and enthusiastic. You can't make out the words. And then there's silence. You start to tremble, and jump at the soft knock at the door. "Are you undressed?" Chelsea asks through the door. "Because there's a guy out here who looks kinda funny in the clothes he's wearing."
You open the door and peer out. A figure turns and looks at you. Fucking God, it's you, looking as pale and flushed as you feel. He's dressed in a black t-shirt and dark jeans, both of which are too small for him. He's kicked off his shoes.
Chelsea plucks at your shirt. "Come on, Will. You can gawp later." Numbly you pull off your shirt and struggle out of your jeans. The other Will Prescott does likewise, and soon there are two stick-like guys, naked, in Chelsea's room. She grins at their mutual embarrassment.
As your doppelganger starts to put your own clothes on, Chelsea draws you over to the bed and pushes you back onto it. She hands you another mask. "Here's Cara," she says, and her eyes shine with a manic light.
Again, you take a deep breath and put a mask to your face.
* * * * *
Your heart is beating wildly when you wake, and you move to put a hand on the weights pressing down your chest. But one hand won't move. You look over to find Chelsea holding it and smiling down at you. "Hi, Cara," she says.
You seem to hear a voice behind you, and turn to look, but there's no one there. That's because-- You gasp. She's inside you. Cara Fuhrman's mind is inside yours.
Slowly, as though in a trance, you rise from the bed and walk over to the full-length mirror that hangs on Chelsea's closet door, even though you know exactly what you'll see.
Cara Fuhrman: Still dusky from lots of summer sun, from swimming and horseback riding and hiking. Well-shaped legs and arms; a shallow stomach; large, nicely balanced, well-proportioned breasts. Thick brown hair falls below your shoulders and frames an oval face. A small mouth and pert nose and dark brown eyes.
You are gorgeous. Why did you never notice this girl in the halls?
Chelsea, who is half a head shorter, comes up next to you. "Let's talk about boys," she says slyly. "You know, it would be best if you and Jonas started seeing each other."
"Jonas?" You frown. Then the penny drops. "You mean Caleb?"
She nods. "He's on his way over."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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