# chapters

path: 11133111211112
author_id: seuzz
title: When Teamwork Needs Teamwork
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You'd just be a third wheel in whatever weird thing Mike and Carlos have going with each other, and Philip is bound to be the most boring company ever. But you missed Kim yesterday, and you want another chance to firm up the bond that seems to be reappearing between you.<br/>
<br/>
And when none of the guys makes any move toward inviting you along with them, it's very easy to sidle up to Kim and Josie and ask if you can make it a trio. Josie doesn't really react, but Kim smiles brightly and says she'd love to have you along.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"It's all just so stupid," Josie concludes with a haggard sigh. "We're all supposed to be on the same team, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"And there's no 'I' in 'teamwork'," Kim primly declares.<br/>
<br/>
And you're thinking, <i>I should have gone with Mike and Carlos.</i><br/>
<br/>
You took Kim's car, as she said she had some additional errands she needed to run for her dad, and because it seemed ungentlemanly to ride shotgun, you took the backseat without even volunteering. But now you're stuck in the backseat in more than one way. Neither Kim nor Josie, up front, are paying you the slightest attention.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you could have contributed anything to the conversation anyway. It's about the girls' soccer team.<br/>
<br/>
Josie has been rattling on about it at detailed length, so much that you feel like you could write a term paper on it if asked. There are a lot of subtleties to the story—lots of agendas and alliances and overlapping resentments and ambitions—but the gist is that the WHS girls' soccer team is being pulled apart by a contest between its two star members. On one side is Anita Nuevo, the team captain, who has been grooming herself for the position (says Josie) ever since she was a freshman. On the other side is Hannah Westrick, a girl who just moved over this year from Eastman High, and whose addition to the squad was so late that she had to do a special try-out in order to join. But once she did, she proved what everyone already knew from playing against her when she was at Eastman: She's the best player on the squad.<br/>
<br/>
If it was simply a fight over who should be team captain, it would all have been over before it even started: Anita already had the position. But Hannah is a very bold and forward girl who can't keep her opinions to herself, so she's always arguing with Anita about positions and strategy and how best to use the team's skills, and she manages to do it in a haughty way like there's no possible way that she (Hannah) could be wrong. This would piss off the other girls, except that a lot of them already don't like Anita (who herself, it sounds, is bossy and unpleasant) and a lot of them think that Hannah's ideas are better than Anita's just on their merits. And it doesn't help, grouses Josie (who professes to be completely neutral in the fight), that Anita has dragged in some of her friends from outside the squad and set them to bullying (Josie's word) Hannah. "To me," she says, "it just seems like it's turned into a lotta mean-girls bullshit."<br/>
<br/>
Kim listens intently and interrupts with a lot of questions—one reason Josie keeps going over and over the same material—but she hasn't got any suggestions. Not that Josie is asking for any help or advice. After this has been going on for twenty minutes or so, without either one offering or asking for any solutions, you begin to wonder what the point of it all is. Just to vent? Just to gossip?<br/>
<br/>
And it's like they've forgotten you're even with them, because Kim gives you a slight double-take when you climb out of the car on arriving at Walmart.<br/>
<br/>
The expedition takes you to the Gardening section of the store, and you wind up playing pack mule as the girls gather up bags of fertilizer and potting soil. You also get top carry two shovels and a couple of boxes of sand bags.<br/>
<br/>
At least it gets their minds off the soccer team and back onto the project. Just not in a productive way.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't believe we're doing this," Kim grumbles as you're carrying the stuff out of the store. "Will, can't you talk Philip and them out of— I mean, it's your book!"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were okay with it."<br/>
<br/>
"I was interested in it at first. But now—" She grimaces at the shovels that you're juggling with the other stuff. "The stuff we're supposed to dig up."<br/>
<br/>
The "stuff" is earth taken from a graveyard. <br/>
<br/>
Josie, to your surprise, is of the opposite opinion. "It's just dirt," she tells Kim.<br/>
<br/>
"If it's just dirt, how come we can't just get some from wherever?" Kim retorts. "Why does it have to be—?"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't have to come from a <i>grave,</i>" Josie says.<br/>
<br/>
"They're gonna get it from a grave. Aren't you?" she asks you.<br/>
<br/>
You haven't thought that far ahead. "We'll decide when we get there," you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, don't we have enough to worry about, without—? I mean, this is getting a little creepy, don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not <i>creepy,</i>" Josie says. "I told you, it's just dirt."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean the masks."<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean—" Kim glances around, but you've got the parking to yourselves. Still, she drops her voice to near nothing. "That wasn't Mike and Carlos back at the place with us. I mean, it was them, but they were, um—"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean they were pretending to be each other? Obviously," says Josie with a roll of her eyes. She glances back at you. "You spotted that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what <i>I</i> thought," you agree, though you're not actually sure you did.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," says Josie. "Like Philip said, they went home as each other and pretended to be each other, then when they woke up the masks were working. Well, the one was working that they couldn't get to work last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," says Kim. "And that didn't creep you out? Them pretending to be each other?"<br/>
<br/>
Josie shrugs. You're too busy piling the things into Kim's trunk to comment.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it just seems like that's enough," Kim says. "That's already pretty powerful, you know, magic or whatever you want to call it. Whatever this other stuff is for—" She breaks off, looking distressed.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what we want to find out," Josie says, stubbornly. "Right?" She looks at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm ... curious," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we should start putting this stuff to a vote," Kim says. "We're all in it together, but if we're all just going to go along when someone says, 'Hey, let's try this next thing out', then—"<br/>
<br/>
"And you'll go along with it if the vote goes against you?" Josie asks.<br/>
<br/>
The question seems to catch Kim off guard. "Well, yes," she stammers after a pause that's just a fraction too long to be reassuring. "I mean, that's democracy, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Josie says nothing, but gives you a sidelong glance.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Philip is waiting outside the storage place when you arrive, and the four of you compare notes on your respective trips, and double-check that you got everything that you need. Carlos and Mike are the last to get back, because they had the farthest to go.<br/>
<br/>
They had to hike out into the nearby Suffolk Wilderness to find a spot where it would be safe to do the experiment.<br/>
<br/>
That's because it calls for setting something on fire. More than setting it on fire, maybe. The recipe basically calls for rocket fuel, which is what Fairfax was in charge of procuring.<br/>
<br/>
The boys report that they succeeded in finding a spot that looks safe: a stony outcrop of rock on the lower slopes of one of the hills, sheltered from sight by a screen of trees. Carlos even pulls out his phone and uses Google Maps's satellite feature to show Philip where the place is and what it looks like.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll bring the stuff out here tonight," Fairfax says after agreeing that the site looks promising. "Uh, if that's okay with you," he tells Carlos, who nods. "Then tomorrow we'll transport it all—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's going to get the dirt?" Josie interrupts.<br/>
<br/>
Everyone looks at everyone else. Then Mike—<br/>
<br/>
If it is Mike. It's impossible to know, because there's masks involved.<br/>
<br/>
—says, "All of us?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think Kim or Josie have to go," Philip says. "It doesn't need six of us. Three would probably be enough."<br/>
<br/>
It might be your imagination, but you get the impression he's shot you a side-eye, like he's thinking that <i>you</i> should stay behind with the girls too.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you need me, don't you?" you ask before you can stop yourself. "At least, you're gonna want my truck to haul it out."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," says Philip after a fractional hesitation. "That makes sense. Meet us out at the Masonic cemetery at eight o'clock?"<br/>
<br/>
So it's settled.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Or is it?<br/>
<br/>
Because you make a stop at Josie Holden's house at seven-thirty, on your way out. It's the mask that got made of her—the "persona," as Philip is trying to get you all to call it—which along with yours got forgotten in the basement while everything was being moved from there out to the storage complex. You remembered it late this afternoon, and texted Josie to see if she wanted you to drop it off with her. She said yes.<br/>
<br/>
But she's got a different idea, you discover.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen," she says after dragging you back out to your truck, and hopping up inside the cab of it with you. "Do you think we could do a little switch?"<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of a switch?"<br/>
<br/>
"You and me. Like Mike and Carlos did today."<br/>
<br/>
The request takes you aback. "Uh, when?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tonight. Now. I'll take your truck out to the cemetery and help do the digging."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Why?"<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't answer right away. When she does, she doesn't make much sense. "To get back at Mike and Carlos."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"That stupid prank today. Also—" She gives you a sidelong look. "I'm supposed to go out with Kim tonight. <i>You</i> could go out with her instead."</span></div></div>


path: 111331112111121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Switch Back
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You blink hard at Josie's suggestion. <i>You and her? Switch places for the evening? Using the masks?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Uh—" is all you manage to say.<br/>
<br/>
Her face falls.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay, never mind," she mutters. "I can see you don't want—"<br/>
<br/>
"No no!" you hasten to say. "It's not— It's just a surprise, is all!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to." She starts to get out of the truck.<br/>
<br/>
"No! I mean—! Let's do it! If you want!"<br/>
<br/>
You don't know why you're so pathetically eager to go along with Josie's idea. Maybe it's just that you don't want to be a dumb old kill-joy.<br/>
<br/>
Though what kind of joy Josie is aiming to get out of pretending to be you, you can't imagine.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Josie tries further explaining her idea to you on the drive back out the elementary school. "It's like they're making their own little club, doesn't it seem like?" she says. "Mike and Philip and now Carlos. It's like they're taking over. Doesn't it seem that way to you?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, it's <i>your</i> book, isn't it? You said so yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Right."<br/>
<br/>
"And now they're— I dunno. That stunt they tried today, with Mike and Carlos pretending to be each other without telling anyone. That was dumb, don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
You think it was actually kind of neat, but you can also sort of see why Josie might think it was too cute. So you just grunt. She says, "I wanna show 'em what it's like being on the other end of something like that."<br/>
<br/>
<i>If we're going to start pranking each other,</i> you want to say, <i>where does it stop?</i> On the other hand, though: <i> But if don't prank each other, what's the point of having these disguises?</i><br/>
<br/>
Aloud, you just say: "So you're going to pretend to be me when, uh, you go out to the cemetery tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. Then tomorrow— Well—" She catches herself. "Maybe we <i>won't</i> tell them what we did."<br/>
<br/>
"You think you'll be able to fool them? I mean, you couldn't get any my, uh, memories and things the last time you put on the— And Philip says you can't until after you, like, sleep in one."<br/>
<br/>
Josie gives you a look. "I think I can do a put-on of you. At least as good as Mike and Carlos did of each other."<br/>
<br/>
"But they know each other. And besides, they had those things in the masks and they worked."<br/>
<br/>
"But they don't know you, do they? Not really, right?" When you don't answer, she closes with, "I think I can pull it off. Even if I get caught, it'll still be a 'gotcha' to them."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You make a circuit of the community center, to make sure no one is loitering where they can spy on you, then park and go down into the basement. Josie seems hesitant once you're downstairs, and for a moment you think she's going to back out. But with a muttered word under her breath, she tears her shirt off and rapidly starts to get undressed. With a gulp, and more slowly, you do too.<br/>
<br/>
Then, with you on one table and her on another, you lay down and put the masks on.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You know what?" Will Prescott snaps. "It would probably just be better if we hanged on to our own phones."<br/>
<br/>
You're back at Josie's house, parked in the driveway with the motor running, when he makes this decision. It is the last thing to be decided before you part for the evening, each to take on the role of the other.<br/>
<br/>
Back in the basement, you woke after she did, and raised up to watch with a feeling of confusion as a skinny guy struggled to get himself inside some cargo pants and a floppy t-shirt. There was a scowl of pain on his face, and a glint of fear in his dark eyes when he peered over at you. "Can you get dressed, please?" he said when you just stared.<br/>
<br/>
That's when it came back to you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That's not me over there,</i> you reminded yourself as you sat up and looked about for your things. <i>Even though he looks just like me. </i>I'm<i> me even though I—</i><br/>
<br/>
You swallowed as you looked down, from your bare breasts to your bare thighs.<br/>
<br/>
They're a nice pair of legs. Strong, well-shaped. Some of the best legs on the squad, if you say so yourself. They're <i>almost</i> the legs of a cheerleader. It's one reason you like to wear shorts all the time.<br/>
<br/>
<i>No, wait,</i> you remind yourself. <i>That's Josie talking. And I'm not Josie.<br/>
<br/>
Except I am. Again.</i><br/>
<br/>
The girl's natural embarrassment at being nude came all over you, made worse by your own embarrassment at seeming to ogle yourself, and you quickly scrambled into the shorts, polo shirt, socks and shoes that are Josie's typical ensemble. You don't quite rock the look the way Stephanie Wyatt does—<br/>
<br/>
And again you had to thrust away a thought that wouldn't have been yours.<br/>
<br/>
Will—<br/>
<br/>
It's rough thinking of him that way, but not as rough as calling the scruffy kid with the stiff, straw-like bangs and the chin whiskers and the rude, boy smell that drifts off him— Well, it's not as rough as calling him "Josie."<br/>
<br/>
—was very gruff with you on the drive back. Was Josie now unhappy about making the switch, even though it was ... his ... idea? Or was he trying to compensate? Or (gulp) is this Josie's imitation of how she thinks <i>you</i> act?<br/>
<br/>
But he seemed impatient, and he finally lost it as he tried explaining all the contingencies of what you should say if <i>this</i> person sent a text that said <i>this,</i> or if <i>that</i> person posts a note about <i>that.</i> So, after working himself into a state of aggravation, he said: "You know what? It would probably just be better if we hanged on to our own phones."<br/>
<br/>
But with an ostentatious sigh, you reach over to pull Josie's phone from his grasp, and drop your phone into his lap.<br/>
<br/>
"Your mask is working for <i>me,</i>" you remind her. "And I don't get that many messages. If you get one, just say you're out with a couple of other guys and you'll get back to 'em tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
Will grimaces, but relents.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I have a two o'clock curfew on Saturday nights," he now says, "but we should be done at the—"<br/>
<br/>
"Mine is eleven-thirty."<br/>
<br/>
He does a double-take at you. "What, your curfew? Are you serious?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. And if you're going to try to be me," you add, "you should have said, 'Are you shitting me?'"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face. "Okay, well, I <i>think</i> we'll be all done out at the cemetery by then. At least I hope so."<br/>
<br/>
"What if you're not?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll still come by here anyway. <i>I</i> don't want to have to see your family."<br/>
<br/>
"Then try to make sure you're here by eleven. Anything else?" You're tired of his company, and put your hand on the door handle.<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates, and you can tell he's not sure if this is such a good idea. But then he shakes his head. "Well, I'll be doing something," you tell her as you open the car door. "But I promise I won't get you in trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you just stay in?" he wails.<br/>
<br/>
"Would <i>you?</i>" you riposte, and slam the door. You know that answer to that question as well as she does.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're in a bouncy mood as you come swinging inside Josie's front door, and you don't know why. Maybe it's just because you feel healthy.<br/>
<br/>
Healthy like you want to eat an apple.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that you, Josie?" Josie's mom calls from deeper in the house as you dig through the crisper in the refrigerator.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes!"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you eat while you were out with your friend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes!" you shout back, even though you didn't.<br/>
<br/>
And a moment later, as you're leaning against the sink, taking hard bites out of the last Granny Smith in the house, Josie's mom comes in. "I thought you said you ate," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"This's dessert," you mumble with a full mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, okay." She nods. "So tell me about him."<br/>
<br/>
You pause in mid-chew.<br/>
<br/>
It suddenly occurs to you that there's one flaw in these swapping schemes. The mask that you're wearing? It got made last ... Thursday? And today is Saturday. Which means the memories in it are two days out of date.<br/>
<br/>
You have no idea what Josie told her mom about the guy she went driving off with.<br/>
<br/>
That he's a friend? The friend of a friend? A potential love interest?<br/>
<br/>
So you go with a sudden instinct: a stubborn refusal to tell your mom anything about any guy that she sees you with.<br/>
<br/>
"He's just a guy from school," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Well, when you said you were working on a project with him—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's with a bunch of guys. And Kim Walsh. You know, our student council president."<br/>
<br/>
"So it's a class project of some kind?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of some kind."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, when you said—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oops, I have to get this," you improvise as you pull your cell phone from your shorts pocket. It didn't chime or vibrate, but every fiber of you wants out of this conversation. In fact, you haven't even pretended to glance at the screen before you are pushing past your mom. You make for the hall bathroom—the nearest sanctuary.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, you find several messages, though they appear in threads on x2z, not in your texts. Given that you've "missed" the last two days, it takes you a bit to figure them out.<br/>
<br/>
But, basically, they present you with a choice of plans: Go out to the Warehouse (the city's most seductive but dangerous party spot) with friends from the Westside girls' soccer squad, or go to a party being thrown by the captain of the Eastman girls' team.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but Josie said something about hanging out with Kim.<br/>
<br/>
And you also promised not to get Josie in any trouble.</span></div></div>


path: 1113311121111212
author_id: seuzz
title: Party Surprises
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Want to meet somewhere and drive out to Jenny's together?</i><br/>
<br/>
That's the question that Phoebe Beauchamp is asking in a private x2z chat. Mikaela Bowers wants to know what time everyone would meet, and Dani Sumner wants to know what time people are planning to stay out to.<br/>
<br/>
You have to catch your breath sharply when you realize what they're talking about, and your next, panicked thought is, <i>Oh my God, I totally missed today's game! Anita will kill me!</i> Even after you recall who you are and where you are, and why there's totally no reason to panic, you feel ill and a little shaky. <i>Missing that game would have been only, like, the worst thing ever!</i><br/>
<br/>
Because today (Saturday) was the day for an exhibition soccer match, the Westside girls' varsity soccer team (the Dragons) against the Eastman girls' varsity soccer team (the Eagles). A "friendly" game, as a fundraiser, but still deadly serious as all cross-town rivalries are. Josie, of course, wouldn't have missed it. The reason you don't remember being at the game, of course, is that Josie's mask is out of date.<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, that's what this party is about. Jenny Taylor, the captain of the Eastman team, is throwing a party at her house tonight, and it is supposed to be another "cross-town" thing: all the girls from both teams getting together, bringing all their friends along, so that everyone can have fun after the game.<br/>
<br/>
Trouble is, most of the girls on the Westside team are talking like they're going out to the Warehouse instead.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you're just too nervous about going to the Warehouse (which has a bad and dangerous reputation), but you tell yourself that you need to act like Josie, and that Josie would have shown team spirit by making a point of showing up to Jenny's.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a lot of argument in the chat about whether it would be bad form or school pride to wear team uniforms to Jenny's, and it's nearly eight o'clock before you and the other girls settle on wearing clean jerseys with jeans, and on carpooling out. By that time, you've finished getting ready.<br/>
<br/>
You do your best not to get excited—or even to pay attention to what you're doing—as you shower. But it's hard. Josie has firm, squeezable breasts, and a soft tummy, and strong, shapely legs. Also, an ass that is perfectly shaped for cupping. But you keep it as business-like as you can as you soap and sponge yourself all over, enjoying the hot water as it flows over you and inside every crevice. <i>She'll never know what kind of fun you're having,</i> a voice whispers in the back of your head. <i>Hell, she's probably </i>expecting<i> you to!</i> But it's a thought that leaves you feeling like a pervert, and you thrust it behind you. Josie is <i>trusting</i> you with a copy of her body, and the best way to repay that trust is by not abusing it. Even if she never could <i>know</i> you didn't abuse it.<br/>
<br/>
Josie is sensitive about the appearance of her skin, so you spend a lot of time with the make-up, getting the shine off and the blemishes covered while trying to preserve a "natural" look. You dry your hair—which is a mocha-brown, and has a ton of body—with a hand dryer and a brush until it is big and fluffy and bounces firmly atop your shoulders. You're going to a party, not on a date, so you stick to deodorant (no perfume), friendship bracelets (no jewelry), and sneakers (but a new pair, still bright and clean).<br/>
<br/>
<i>God, I make a sexy tomboy!</i> you think as you turn and admire yourself in the mirror. <i>I'm adorable! I'd just love to grab me and pull me close and kiss me all over and—!</i><br/>
<br/>
And somehow, when you're not paying close attention, the fantasy segues into one of a guy pulling <i>you</i> into an embrace and kissing you all over.<br/>
<br/>
It's never happened to Josie, though she's come close at least half a dozen times. Each time, though, it's been one of the handsy jocks—Laurent Delacroix or Alec Brown; James Bridges or Brian Kelly; Ryan Ness or Dylan Lloyd or Marcus Ansell—trying to push her into a corner. But always Josie has managed to slither out and away.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Why is it never one of the nice, sweet, brainy guys?</i> you wonder as you're carried away by one of Josie's more regular trains of thought. <i>Why is it never Luke Richardson or Fred Hildown or Nicholas Gray or Preston Spinks or ...</i><br/>
<br/>
Or Philip Fairfax?<br/>
<br/>
That's the stop where you get off.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I don't want to think about how Philip Fairfax gets my hoohah excited,</i> you tell yourself as you pack up your phone and a few other accessories. <i>And I definitely don't want to think about how Will Prescott ... doesn't.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what time is Hannah showing up?" you ask Phoebe.<br/>
<br/>
It's nearly ten, and the ace troublemaker on the Westside team—and the reason most of them ditched this party—is nowhere to be seen.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you miss her. It's a great party, and one that Hannah could probably only screw up with her presence.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny Taylor lives on the northeast side of town, on the other side of the mall, in a nice, quiet residential neighborhood, in a low-slung ranch house. The place is not very big, and the day was sunny and warm, so most of it being held out back, where a large deck takes up most of a leafy yard. Those inside are there to dance to music that is quietly playing, or to hang out in the kitchen close to the snacks and (non-alcoholic) drinks.<br/>
<br/>
So as a party, it's nice. As a way to emphasize the "friendly" in "friendly cross-town rivalry," though, it's a bust. Only four members of the WHS girls' squad—you, Mikaela Bowers, Phoebe Beauchamp, and Dani Sumner—showed up. And there's hardly anyone from Westside that your recognize, except some members of the baseball team, who probably showed up only because they're friends of Dani.<br/>
<br/>
That Anita Nuevo, Westside's own squad captain, is missing is especially glaring. But it's Hannah's absence that is really galling. Anita and the others went out to the Warehouse, almost certainly so they could avoid seeing Hannah here. So for Hannah to not even show up— Well, it makes Anita and the others look even more childish.<br/>
<br/>
It's got to be annoying for Jenny as well. After all, Hannah was on the Eastman team with Jenny up until this year. It's a total diss for her to skip out.<br/>
<br/>
But Phoebe isn't listening to you. You're out on the back deck with your cups of punch, standing under a blazing tiki torch, and she's staring down into the back yard with an intense look on her face. You follow her glance, but all you can see are a bunch of Eastman students, most of them in letterman jackets despite the warmth of the evening.<br/>
<br/>
"Phoebe," you prompt her. She tilts her head, but otherwise doesn't react.<br/>
<br/>
"Your friend's pretty distracted," says a voice behind you, and you jump. "Sorry," says the speaker.<br/>
<br/>
He's tall and dark and quite good-looking. So Josie would think, and you'd have to acknowledge. His smile is pleasant and friendly. And—this is a plus—he's dressed in khakis and a soft, green-and-white hoodie rather than a letterman jacket. You'd spotted him earlier out of the corner of your eye a couple of times, and you aren't at all unhappy that he's come over to talk.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, she gets this way," you reply, and nudge Phoebe in the arm. She glances over, just long enough to take you and your new friend in, then goes back to staring. "You'd think she'd never seen a guy in a letterman jacket before."<br/>
<br/>
His smile widens even as the rest of his face relaxes. "You guys did good today," he says. "Heartbreaker for you at the last minute."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you drawl. You made sure to find out earlier (by texting Josie) how the exhibition game went. Eastman won, at the last moment, 3 to 2. Josie herself scored one of Westside's two goals, so you smile with modest gratitude when he congratulates you on the play. "My name's Geoff," he says, and puts out his hand. "Geoff Dunholm."<br/>
<br/>
"Josie Holden. This is Phoebe." You nudge your friend again. "She was out there too."<br/>
<br/>
"I saw her," Geoff says, but he doesn't take his eyes off you. "She wasn't as good as you, though."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Don't come onto me so hard,</i> you want to warn him. You look good, but—<br/>
<br/>
But then your eye falls onto the white emblem embroidered into his hoodie, over his heart: <i>EHS Debate Team.</i> "You're on the debate team?" you ask, idiotically.<br/>
<br/>
He glances down at the patch. "Yeah. This is the closest <i>I</i> can get to a letterman jacket."<br/>
<br/>
"But you came out this party, you must be good at <i>some</i> sport."<br/>
<br/>
The light in his eyes cools, so much that you want to kick yourself. "I got friends," he says. "Like Jenny and Kyle."<br/>
<br/>
"So what <i>are</i> you good at?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And that's how you fall into a long, fun and easy conversation with Geoff Dunholm, most of it carried out inside, the two of you perched on the corner of a sofa. You learn that he's smart (he's taking AP classes); funny (with a dry wit); has lots of friends (you're interrupted constantly by a stream of people who have something to say to him); and has a talent for getting more and more handsome the longer you talk.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh God, this guy is perfect!</i> you wind up thinking. <i>Perfect for Josie,</i> you correct yourself.<br/>
<br/>
So when eleven-fifteen brings a text from Will Prescott, hectoring you to meet him someplace, you're sorely tempted (for Josie's sake) to tell him you'll see him tomorrow.</span></div></div>


path: 1113313
author_id: seuzz
title: Drawing Straws
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Drawing straws does seem like the only equable solution, and from a broken push broom five bristles—four long and one short—are procured. Mike slides them into the book, between the first page and the cover, and holds it out.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, it's your book," he tells you, "so you should draw the first straw. After that we'll go in alphabetical order by last name."<br/>
<br/>
You crack your knuckles and pluck at random: a long straw.<br/>
<br/>
Fairfax's demeanor is very calm as he picks a straw. It's another long one.<br/>
<br/>
Well, one of them is going to be short. In the event, it turns out to go to: </span></div></div>


path: 11134
author_id: rugal
title: Prospective Partnerships
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You hem and haw a bit over what to do but you quickly decide that you can't tell these three anything. For a start you only really know Mike by name and sight and Josie you know even less. Worse still is Kim. You knew Kim once, way back in middle school, and she was always very nice to you. She'd even been out to your house a few times when you'd been in group projects or to help you study something that was giving you trouble.<br/>
<br/>
But that was a long time ago and as the two of you moved in opposite directions soon after starting at Westside so too did your interactions dry up. Sure Kim might still offer you a smile and a warm hello if she sees you but little more than that and in effect not that different from how she treats most other students.<br/>
<br/>
No way could you try and convince <i>her</i> that you have a magic book. So when she asks why you made it you can only squeak out a dull response.<br/>
<br/>
You at least hang around for the rest of the period though you don't speak as much as the other three -- kept largely on task by Kim -- talk about a group project they have for a class they all share. You can't help but to feel a bit left out but then you guess that feeling somewhat left out while sitting at a table girls like Kim and Josie beats getting wailed on or harassed by Horner and Spencer.<br/>
<br/>
When the bell eventually rings everyone bids goodbye as the group brakes up though Mike claps you on the back before you can start walking away.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you think?" Mike asks you with a grin as he walks with you out of the library.<br/>
<br/>
"Think?" you ask in confusion.<br/>
<br/>
"About Josie. She's nice right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sure I guess. I mean you guys were more focused on your stuff but she seemed friendly enough," you answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Cute too, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
You raise an eyebrow as you look over at him. Just what is he getting at? "Yeah, she's not bad looking," you reply. "Why? Are you interested in her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Am I--?" Mike starts but catches himself and laughs. "Not really but you know, she <i>is</i> single."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs again as you walk through the halls towards the fourth period class that you both share. The topic quickly moves from Josie and whether or not she's attractive to some random other stuff. You've ever really talked with Mike but he's a pretty easygoing and friendly guy you conclude.<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, so you got any extracurriculars? Clubs your in after school or something?" he asks as you approach Gladstone's classroom.<br/>
<br/>
"Not really," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"You should join us out at Top Shelf after school some time," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! Me and Carlos got a thing we do where we go out there, watch some movies, then review 'em for Youtube," he explains. "But we're always looking for people to hang out. Philip and Josiah are out there a lot, your boy Tilley too. We'd definitely love to have you hang out with us some time."<br/>
<br/>
He claps you on the back again as he walks past you, into Gladstone's classroom and takes his seat by Carlos.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
While you think about what Mike said you pretty much go through the motions for fourth period as you impatiently wait for the clock to hit the end of the hour and the lunch bell to ring. But more than paying attention to anything going on in class, you're instead paying attention to the students that occupy it. You still want to share the book with someone but you're still not sure who with.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa!" a voice cries out. The bell to end fourth period has rung and you're walking out though still in a something of a ponderous daze such that you weren't paying much attention. But snapped back into the real world you suddenly are for the voice belongs to Catherine Muskov, co-captain of the track team and one of the most popular -- and beautiful -- girls in school.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry!" you exclaim as you take a step back.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry?" she asks causing you to gulp. "It's fine, don't worry," she says with a titter. "Anyway you're Will, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um, yeah. You, uh, know my name?" you manage to sputter out.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. We share the same class, don't we?" she responds casually. Her face is relaxed but serious as she takes a few seconds to study you. Then she smiles and her eyes light up. "You should really come out to one of my parties some time. We could always use more bodies."<br/>
<br/>
"M-me?" you ask as the word almost catches in your throat. But before you can say anything else you're interrupted by the arrival of Mandy Tiller.<br/>
<br/>
"C'mon Catherine, don't tease him," she says while giggling as she grabs Catherine by the elbow and leads her out of the classroom.<br/>
<br/>
You nearly trip over your own jaw as you begin to leave as well.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Lunch goes about as normal as usual though Caleb is flippant when you excitedly tell him about Catherine's invite telling you not to get too excited and that she was probably just being nice. At the same time this causes some crass words from Keith about what <i>he'd</i> do at one of Catherine's parties.<br/>
<br/>
Yet despite all of this you're still not any closer to finding a partner to share the book with and it's back to being front of mind by the time lunch ends and you head off to your sixth period calculus class. The work is a little more serious and so you don't have time to really daydream and think like you did before lunch but you still make note of a few potentials throughout the day and make mental notes of them.<br/>
<br/>
When the bell for the end of last period rings, you're left wondering what to do seeing as you still don't have any solid names and wonder if you should've just shown it to Mike and them back in third period... and that's when an idea hits you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It was a question Mike had asked earlier wondering if the book and mask were related to D&amp;D stuff. If anyone would be into something like this it'd be Christian Knouse and his tabletop gaming buddies which is why you're now sitting with them in King Kong Comics while they seem to be doing more arguing about roleplaying than actual roleplaying. You kind of want to consider it a wash and leave when you hear the ringing of the bell on the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey guys," someone calls out. "Gillian not here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah," Darrell Parson says looking up. "I think Braydon said she was going to be by later though."<br/>
<br/>
You follow his gaze to see a girl who you don't recognize but who immediately stands out -- in spite of her simple t-shirt and jeans ensemble -- for one reason: she's seriously cute. Elfin features and dark eyes with a mischievous glint to them, hair that's dyed a deep red and freckles liberally dotting her face and arms.<br/>
<br/>
"Sucks. I'm just running in to grab some stuff and I was hoping I could see her while I was here," she says and you're surprised at how she can seem to make disappointment cute.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want stick around?" asks Christian.<br/>
<br/>
"Can't," she pouts. "Alyssa wants us to get together in a bit."<br/>
<br/>
She goes back to talking to Eric while you finally make the excuse that you're going out to get some air. Which you do, standing just outside the door while you check your phone. You yelp in surprise when you feel something poke you in the side and almost trip over yourself when you see that girl.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," she says. Her look is friendly but curious and her voice chipper.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, hey yourself," you say nervously. "You know those jokers?"<br/>
<br/>
She laughs at that but waves it off. "They're good guys but I mostly know them through Gillian. I don't think I've ever seen you out here though," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't get out here much," you state. Without any real follow up you point to the small stack of comics she's holding. "So what are you reading?"<br/>
<br/>
This goes into a conversation over the next few minutes about the comics she reads and likes and you have to admit you're more a video game guy than a comics one which leads to a some light conversation about favorite games until she says she finally says that she needs to get going. But not before she yanks your phone from you and fiddles with it before handing it back.<br/>
<br/>
"We should talk some time," she says with a smile and a wave before bouncing off to her car.<br/>
<br/>
For the second time that day your jaw wants to hit the ground. Your phone's open to your contacts and in it is her name and a number.<br/>
<br/>
Though Christian and his pals razz you a bit when you come back into the store. They saw the conversation through the glass door and make a point to tell you that Natalie Dawkins, the girl you'd been talking to, is nice and all but...<br/>
<br/>
"She's part of some group of gossips over at Eastman," says Howie Baylor, "so she'd probably just pump you for Westside gossip if you actually talked to her."<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're actually now feeling a little better by the time you get home. An invitation to a party from Catherine Muskov? Natalie's number? Did someone upstairs feel bad for you today and decide to give you a break?<br/>
<br/>
And it's as you're running high on this feeling once you're in your room that you realize... maybe you've found someone to show the book to. Someone who might be impressed by seeing it, who might think you're cool or even... you stop to catch your breath.<br/>
<br/>
Could you really show the book to someone like Catherine Muskov though? Would she even believe you?<br/>
<br/>
Or what about Genesis Lee? She's a band girl from sixth period. Not bad looking but not spectacular either. Maybe someone like that though, someone who doesn't stand out, would find something like this interest.<br/>
<br/>
Or Natalie Dawkins. Despite Howie's warnings you wonder if you should use that number she gave you to try and meet up with her. Maybe she'd be really impressed by it.<br/>
<br/>
But you stop yourself. No, that would all be too crazy right? Too convenient? Maybe you should forget it and just accept Mike's invite to hang out.</span></div></div>


path: 111343
author_id: rugal
title: The Mystery of the Girl from the East
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're not really sure what to do. After all, you don't know Genesis or her friends—she was merely a name that popped into your head—and you highly doubt someone like Catherine would find an old book—or you—all that interesting. But Natalie might. Of course, you know her less than you do Genesis but if she's geeky enough to come to the comic shop and is friendly with Christian and the other roleplayers, then she might be geeky enough to find something like this interesting.<br/>
<br/>
That's if the number she gave you is even hers and she's not just messing with you. But something inside of you says that you should take a chance and try and so, going against your usual instincts, you send a message to that number asking if she wants to hang out. You don't really expect anything so you're surprised when you actually do get a message back a few minutes later.<br/>
<br/>
<i>lol rite now?</i><br/>
<br/>
It's simple but at least you know, or at least more earnestly believe, that the number actually does belong to her. <i>no its late. maybe tomorrow? we can meet @ the comic shop,</i> you reply.<br/>
<br/>
<i>gigantic robot?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>no. king kong</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>jus messin wit u lmao<br/>
sure we can meet after school<br/>
c ya then!</i><br/>
<br/>
Well hell, that was much easier than you'd have thought it would be. Tomorrow you'll properly get the chance to hang out with this Natalie girl and you can't help but to be excited... but of course you don't actually know a thing about her. You really only know what the other guys told you and you can't help but wonder if that's why she was so quick to agree to meet up with you. It's not like you have tons of Westside gossip so would she drop you as soon as she realizes that you're well that's not worth being tapped?<br/>
<br/>
Even ignoring that, how would you bring up the book to her in the first place?<br/>
<br/>
Right, the book... and the mask. With a sigh you grab the mask and cloth from your backpack and get to polishing it. However, by the time you've finished for the night it still feels like very little progress has been made.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're restless for the rest of the night and that restlessness hasn't faded by the time you get up for school in the morning. Even your mother seems to notice and asks you if there's anything wrong, though you lie and tell her that you're just trying to think of what to write for a short essay due by the end of the week. You realize that was a mistake when she gives you a look after you tell her that you'll be home a little later because you're meeting some friends after school. However, you assure her that you'll have the assignment done in time.<br/>
<br/>
At school, you quickly seek out Caleb and Keith as you hang around waiting for classes to start. "Either of you know if Christian Knouse and them have lunch fifth period?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck you wanna know about them for? You wanna pretend you're some kinda gnome wizard or something?" Keith asks with a snort.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you say while glaring at him, "but they're regulars over at King Kong Comics and I figured I'd ask them about someone I ran into there."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" comes the simple interjection from Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"None of your business," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Was it a girl?" asks Keith. "Yeah if it was them, it was probably Gillian right? But why the fuck you interested in <i>her</i>? She's nice lookin' an' all but you know she's goin' out with that weirdo Delp, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not... it's not Gillian, okay!?"<br/>
<br/>
"You share fourth period with Delp, right? Why not talk to him if you're so curious?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
You're dismissive of that, however. "Come on, Caleb, would <i>you</i> want to talk to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," he answers, "but I'm also not the one running around asking about people his girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
You merely grumble with exasperation. "So I'm stuck then?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, probably," states Caleb. "Actually, I think Knouse's got a study hall or something fifth but that'd mean skipping out on lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft, like I care about lunch," you declare with an eye roll. "I'll try and pick his brain then, thanks."<br/>
<br/>
The three of you then move on from that to continue talking about other random stuff until the bell rings, announcing for everyone to get to class. You and Caleb, sharing Walberg's class first, part from Keith and it's as your walking towards class that you spring another request on him.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, so do you want to come out to the comic shop with me after school?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you asking me?" he shoots back.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I'm actually kinda nervous so, I don't know, I figured it'd be nice to have my friend's support."<br/>
<br/>
He eyes you and shakes his head. "So it really <i>is</i> about a girl. Who is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not Gillian," you answer quickly and defensively. "It's nobody you know. She goes to Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
At that Caleb laughs. "Oh boy, yeah, I'm sure she does," he says with a snicker, "and my girlfriend lives two counties over!"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," you grumble, realizing it was a mistake to ask him about anything.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
In fourth, you get a good look at Braydon Delp and can't help but to wonder just what it is that someone like Gillian sees in him. He's a dour and serious looking goth dressed head to toe in dark colors. He makes no secret of the fact he's into magic and the occult—in fact, he's rather notorious around school for it—and yet someone like <i>that</i> is able to get a girl as cute as Gillian Keifer while you get tossed out by Lisa like it's nothing?<br/>
<br/>
But you stop before allowing yourself to be consumed by thoughts of the injustice of it all. Instead, once the bell rings, you dart and head towards the library where you eventually find Christian Knouse alone at a table. You walk over, place your backpack down and take a seat across from him with only a token of acknowledgment in return. But you don't let that deter you and get right into the topic at hand.<br/>
<br/>
"So you guys are out at the comic shop a lot, right?" you begin. "How well do you know Natalie Dawkins?"<br/>
<br/>
Christian looks up from his book and cocks an eyebrow. "Less than you'd probably like," he responds. "Gillian knows her way better than the rest of us."<br/>
<br/>
"Well is what Howie said about her true? You know, about her being some kind of gossip at Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
"As far as any of us can tell," he says. "She's tried asking us about stuff a few times but it's not like we're plugged in so it never goes anywhere."<br/>
<br/>
"So she just gave me her number because she wants gossip out of me?" you ask with audible disappointment.<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, you didn't actually call her did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!" you protest which is, if you want to be pedantic, the truth; you never did <i>call</i> her. "But wouldn't you be curious if a girl gave you her number out of the blue?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," responds Christian, "but I'd think that she'd escaped from the funny farm. Look, Will, if you really want to know about her then talk to Gillian. Like I said, she knows her better than the rest of us."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't have any idea how you'd actually talk to Gillian about her until your own study hall in seventh period. Not long after you enter, you notice Gillian and remember that she too has a study hall. So, probably a little too enthusiastically, you wave her over. "Are you going to be out at the comic shop?" you ask once she's taken a seat and greeted you.<br/>
<br/>
"My hubby's going out there today so I probably will as well. Why, what's up?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, well, it's just that I ran into Natalie yesterday... uh, for the first time," you tell her. "And everyone said you'd be the best person to ask about her."<br/>
<br/>
Gillian looks at you curiously. "So are you interested in Natalie?" she asks. You try to dismiss it but she simply gives you a tiny, amused smile. "Uh huh, what'd she do?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"She grabbed my phone and put her number in it. She agreed to meet up with me today," you admit. "Uh, Christian and his friends were saying that she's, like, some kind of gossip at Eastman so she's just pumping me for information."<br/>
<br/>
Gillian laughs a little at that. "They're overblowing it," she states. "I've known her for a long time and she's just always been the type who does whatever comes to mind. You know, really impulsive, leaping without looking, that kind of person."<br/>
<br/>
"So you, um, don't think she meant anything by it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, Will, but there's times where not even I know what she's thinking," she smiles. "She's just... Natalie. That's what makes her fun."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So even after having talked to Gillian you still don't think you have even the slightest clue about Natalie. You don't even know if she'll retain interest enough to keep talking to you, much less if she'd be interested in the book. When school lets out you send a text to Caleb asking once more if he'd be willing to head out to the store with you but he turns you down once again.<br/>
<br/>
So alone and now feeling even more nervous, you head out to King Kong Comics. You great Eric Kim, the portly but friendly, owner and browse. At one point, the door chimes and you look to see if it's Natalie but it's only another girl. Her eyes go wide when she sees you and she quickly averts her gaze. <i>She looks cute but she seems really shy... and really young,</i> you think to yourself as you turn your attention away from her.<br/>
<br/>
All you can really do is wait for Natalie to show up though maybe you can pass the time by trying to talk to that girl.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1113432
author_id: rugal
title: Books and Bases
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You sit at one of the small tables and check your phone, both to browse and to see if any new messages come in though none do. You make some idle, inconsequential chit chat with Eric while a few people begin to filter in. You notice that girl glancing your direction a couple of times and you're almost tempted to talk to her, mostly to ask her what her deal is. <i>I don't need to make it look like I'm desperate enough to try picking up a freshman,</i> you tell yourself and that's enough to table any idea of that.<br/>
<br/>
The door chimes once more and in walks Gillian, much to your surprise. You knew she'd be coming since that's what she'd said earlier but still, she's here before everyone else besides you. "Hey Will, I guess I'm early, huh?" she says, echoing your thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
"Seems like it," you reply, unsure of what to really say.<br/>
<br/>
But Gillian merely stands by the door and holds it open. "Oh and look who I found!" she says.<br/>
<br/>
Through the doorway walks Natalie, still looking cute and dressed not all that differently from what you saw yesterday. Just replace the jeans with cargo pants and a thin, light blue hoodie covering what looks to be a yellow t-shirt. She waves at you. "Fancy running into you here, newbie," she says. "How totally and completely unexpected!"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah, I wasn't expecting to meet you two days in a row," you reply, going along with her attempted joke.<br/>
<br/>
Natalie doesn't say much but instead walks over to you and snatches your cap off of your head, placing it on her own. She smirks. "You look better without this beat up old thing, by the way," she says as she ruffles your hair. She then walks over to greet Eric leaving you red-faced.<br/>
<br/>
Gillian giggles and pinches you in the side, bringing you back to Earth. "She doesn't mean anything by it, Will," she says. "Like I told you, Natalie is Natalie. She's just funny like that."<br/>
<br/>
You want to ask her what she thinks you were thinking but you don't get the opportunity to because not long after, Christian and Howie and the others soon begin filtering in. Though conspicuous by his absence is Braydon. "He texted the group saying that something came up last minute and he was't going to be able to make it out today," Christian explains when you ask where he is.<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't say anything about that to <i>me!</i>" Gillian cries.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he thought he texted you already," shrugs Darrell Parson.<br/>
<br/>
But that doesn't seem to mollify Gillian who grasps your arm and rests her head on your shoulder. "Well, since my hubby is being a jerkass, why don't <i>you</i> keep me company, Will?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You'd really wanted to talk to Natalie but how can you say no to someone like Gillian? Especially when Natalie herself jumps in to needle you. "You should totally keep her company. Maybe you can even steal her away if you're smooth enough," she laughs. You notice Gillian make a face at that.<br/>
<br/>
After being pressured, you can't help but acquiesce although you're awkward and don't really know what to do. But Gillian is very forward, very flirty and very touchy feely. You half-wonder if she'd agree to just leave and go some place else with you if you asked. But in spite of how she's acting you're not sure you feel any actual intimacy from her. No, it's almost like how it was with... you stop yourself before you can finish that thought.<br/>
<br/>
Neither of you join in with the game Christian and his buddies are playing and it's maybe twenty minutes before Gillian, probably starting to get bored, stands up and says she's going to head out. You and Natalie go with her.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry I'm not much of a conversationalist," you apologize to her once the three of you are outside.<br/>
<br/>
"No, you're fine, don't worry," Gillian replies. "I'm really only ever out here to spend time with my hubby but he's not here so... I dunno, it's just hard to maintain interest." She heads over to her car but stops to look at Natalie. "Are you coming?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I think I'll stay for a little bit. Will can give me a ride home," she says as she looks at you, smirks, and gives your cheek a hard pinch, "can't you?"<br/>
<br/>
You rub the tender area where she pinched you but you're also not about to turn her down, either. "Yeah, it's fine, I don't mind," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright then," says Gillian as she waves at you. "Maybe I'll see you at school tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
Once she's off, you suddenly notice a quick shift in Natalie's mood. The bright expression is replaced by something harder. She talks but she doesn't look at you and the exuberant tone she'd had isn't there. "Hey, you wanna ditch these guys and hang out, just the two of us?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure, I guess, but why?"<br/>
<br/>
She lets out a small "hmph" as she starts walking towards the parking lot. "I just suddenly don't have the stomach for Dungeons and Dragons, that's all," she says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You head back in to give customary goodbyes before you direct Natalie over to your truck. You're not really sure where she wants to hang out and she doesn't give a real answer—just an "anywhere"—when you ask. But you hit upon an idea and hope that maybe she'll find it cool. So you head towards Acheson and the community center. Grabbing your backpack, you hop out of the truck and have her follow you over to the old school house and towards a padlocked door. Digging around, you find the key and are thankful that it still works.<br/>
<br/>
You lead her down the steps into a dank, dark basement, flipping the light switch to illuminate it. "Pretty neat, huh? Me and my friends discovered it a little while back," you explain. "We bought ablock so nobody else can get in."<br/>
<br/>
"Nice! Like a secret base!" Natalie exclaims as she walks past you to look around. "I would've <i>killed</i> for something like this when I was a kid! All I had was a treehouse."<br/>
<br/>
"Glad you like it. We can keep coming down here if you want to, you know, keep hanging out," you say.<br/>
<br/>
She turns back to you, an excited look on her face. "Yeah, I'd be totally fine with that!"<br/>
<br/>
So with a barrier seemingly broken down, you decide to get into what's been bothering you all day. "I'm glad but, uh, why?" you ask. "You know, you just met me and you're giving me your number and you're wanting to hang out despite barely even knowing my name."<br/>
<br/>
Natalie looks at you with confusion, as if she doesn't quite comprehend what you're saying. "Anything wrong with that?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, no, but Christian's crew were telling me that you were with some group from Eastman and were probably going to be pumping me for gossip."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft, yeah," Natalie says dismissively with an eye roll. "I am <i>totally</i> Jane Bond, looking to get all of Westside's deep, dark state secrets." She pushes herself up onto the table that sits near the stairs. "Okay sure, I'm part of Alyssa's circle but people have this really weird perception of what we're like. Like we're the Illuminati or something. I mean yeah, Alyssa likes collating rumors and whatever and sure I'll pass along stuff I hear but I'm not, like, some kind of spy or something."<br/>
<br/>
"You were still pretty quick to hang out with me all the same," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but that's because... I dunno," she shrugs. "You ever just meet someone and you feel like you're just kinda similar? That's what I thought when we were talking yesterday. Like I just got this vibe of 'he's pretty similar to me and probably won't mind hanging out', y'know? You felt like that too, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't have messaged me."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I guess I get what you mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Right! And I thought... man, <i>finally</i> someone who gets that!" she exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you've known Gillian a long time, or at least that's what she said," you state. "You don't get that with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I do, but, y'know, she's got her <i>hubby</i> so we can't always hang out," she tells you. "Plus I just like meeting people and getting to know them. But, I mean, if you don't want to hang out..."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, no, I definitely do!" you protest and then cringe because that probably sounds desperate.<br/>
<br/>
But Natalie doesn't seem to notice or at least doesn't comment on it. There is, however, a lull in the conversation and you realize that this is probably the opening that you need. So you grab the book from your backpack and put it on the table next to her.<br/>
<br/>
"What's this?" she asks as she hops off and eyes it curiously.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a book," you state plainly as you open it. "I picked it up at Arnholm's a few days ago."<br/>
<br/>
"Looks like it'd be a prop in some fantasy movie," Natalie says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's written like it's real, " you tell her. You then pull the mask out as well and show it to her. "It had instructions to make this in it. It says you have to polish it but I've been trying it for a few days and it's been slow going."<br/>
<br/>
She picks the mask up and looks at it before handing it back to you. "Maybe it's some kind of fantasy themed arts and crafts book," she says. "I mean, it's obviously not like it's a real magic book or anything but it'd probably be interesting to look at it some more."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you into stuff like that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Arts and crafts? Yeah, kinda," she says as she looks at the book.<br/>
<br/>
And there's what you've been looking for. With this, you could ask her if she'd be interested in working on the book with you to see what it has. The book has been weird enough so far that you're fairly convinced it <i>is</i> really magic and if it is, something like this would be neat to share with Natalie.<br/>
<br/>
But from the way she's been talking, you probably don't even need to bring the book into things if you wanted to keep hanging out with her.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11134322
author_id: nostrum777
title: Of Hearts That Suffer
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You made a good first step. Natalie seems interested in the book, and while she seems a bit skeptical about it, she expressed interest in delving upon its secrets. Your heart races—no girl has expressed this kind of interest in something that’s yours.<br/>
<br/>
But it’s that very thought that makes you stop. She told you that she’s not entirely interested in rumors, but this is a huge secret. Westside hiding a real magic book? What if, all of a sudden, you get a bunch of Eastman goons looking for it? You only made the mask, which isn’t exactly a world-breaking spell (and of which you know very little yourself), but you haven’t gone that far. What if they get too far? What if they unlock its secrets?<br/>
<br/>
You feel hopeless, but something she said stirs you. <i>You ever just meet someone and feel like you’re just kinda similar?</i> That thought gnaws on you. She’s cute, and she seems to have noticed something in you that you haven’t, if she identifies it as something she has.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you don’t need the book to befriend her. It’s a nice way to break the ice, but you’d like to know her a bit better before you decide. "Maybe later," you say as you store the book. "So, um..."<br/>
<br/>
You think of so many ways to relate to her, but your mind draws a blank. You wing it with the first thing that comes into mind. "So, how do you know the guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Y’know. The guys. The one on the comic book store. Christian and Howie and—"<br/>
<br/>
She rolls her eyes. "I know Gillian, they know Gillian, I get to know them." You sigh silently, as you feel the question was stupid in the first place—they got a shared acquaintance.<br/>
<br/>
But that leads you to a deeper answer. "Say, how did you end up in Eastman and Gillian in—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me. I guess because she lives closer?" She seems bothered by the answer, as if you had touched a nerve, but she leans on the back of a sideways table and vents. "Dad’s gotta go early to work and Eastman’s the closest, so I got enrolled there. He only needs to drop down 20th Street and that’s it."<br/>
<br/>
"Where does your father work?"<br/>
<br/>
"Some big company called Salopek."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes widen, like a deer looking into headlights. <i>Is this what she means with that vibe?</i> "My dad works at Salopek too!"<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" she laughs. "Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh..." You never paid a lot of attention to your dad’s projects. "Stuff? He’s an engineer, so I guess design?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably you heard him speak of Henry Dawkins?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really. Heard your dad speak of Harris Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
She covers her face. "That means your dad’s basically my dad’s boss." She snickers from behind her hand. "Small town, small world, isn’t it?"<br/>
<br/>
Your plan works. You’re eager to know more about her, so you try to dig in with a question, a palate-cleansing one if any. "What classes you're taking at Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
She lifts her eyebrow, amused. "Smooth question." She walks around, waving her hands. "Art, Creative Writing, Dance..."<br/>
<br/>
"Dance?"<br/>
<br/>
"Did some ballet ‘cos Mom wanted to. Mostly for an easy A."<br/>
<br/>
"And the rest?"<br/>
<br/>
She takes a pad from her bookbag, showing some of her drawings. Beyond the still-lives and anatomical drawings, you see some characters in capes and spandex, in many poses. You even see a little page she made, comic-book style (or is it manga-style? It seems like a blend of both.)<br/>
<br/>
You notice something interesting in them. The page has three characters—the heroine, the damsel in distress and the villain. The first two seem a bit familiar to you, even if she hasn’t given them colors; the third, however, has all the style and trappings of an evil magician—a warlock of sorts.<br/>
<br/>
You manage to get that glimpse before she notices you. She snaps the pad shut. "Trying to sharpen up my skills. Wanna be a comic book artist—writer, drawer, the likes. I’ve even taken Korean to read <i>manhwa</i>—it's like manga, but Korean obviously, and it has its own style." You feel the passion with which she speaks, giving you the impression you’ve started off with the right foot.<br/>
<br/>
At least, until she turns that question back to you. "What about you?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Bit of everything. Calculus, Sociology—Career Planning." You stress that last class, even though you don’t really pay a lot of attention to it. You quickly regret saying that, as Natalie seems to reel from it.<br/>
<br/>
"I see... No fun classes?"<br/>
<br/>
"I also take Film as Literature." Another class you feel could be an easy A, but you’ve noticed it’s a bit more than it seems.<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" She points at the mask, which you left lying on a table. "Thought you’d be on an Arts &amp; Crafts class." She grabs it again, rubbing her finger at it. "It’s really well made."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well..." You try to take it from her, and she drops it. It clatters on the table, and you back off. "Sorry about that."<br/>
<br/>
"It’s..." Her reaction is as awkward as yours. "It’s alright." You fear this is it—that it’s all over, that she’ll rush the stairs and you’ll never see her, that she’ll call the police and claim you tried to take advantage of her—and your heart races.<br/>
<br/>
But she doesn’t seem to mind, and takes it cooler than you imagined. She even helps you cool down, which you silently appreciate. "I like it."<br/>
<br/>
"It... It was nothing, really." You feel tempted to tell her again, but you feel you haven’t clicked with her yet. "Something I did on a whim."<br/>
<br/>
"Love to see it when you’re finished." You see her explore your old hideout with a detective’s eye. "What did you do here, anyways?"<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
Telling her about the times Caleb, Keith and you tried to taste whiskey in this place led a bit deeper. You told her you were friends with two cheerleaders—Lin Pol and Yumi Saito, who of course she knows—and some AP students—Carson, James and Paul. She told you about her other friends besides the Westside nerds, such as Kelly Trask and Genevieve Blake, from the Eastman school newspaper, amongst other names. You’re surprised she’s well-connected—dare you say popular?—which makes you feel uneasy.<br/>
<br/>
Her next question goes straight to the kidneys. "You’re with someone?"<br/>
<br/>
You're not, but you really wish she hadn't asked that question. You were with Lisa, of course, but you’re unsure of how she’ll react if you tell her you got dumped by her. A little white lie doesn’t hurt, of course, particularly if it’s coated with a heap of truth. "Was. Last summer. This girl called Lisa—"<br/>
<br/>
She gasps. "Rickover?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Uh... Lisa Yarborough. But, y’know... She wasn’t what I was looking for. Different worlds, different interests."<br/>
<br/>
"Makes it sound like she was boring."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh..." You couldn’t say, since you still feel hurt that Lisa dumped you all over. "Not...necessarily, but I figured it wasn’t my thing and we decided to split."<br/>
<br/>
"So, you’re open."<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty much." You feel yourself digging a deeper hole for yourself, but you can’t back off.<br/>
<br/>
"She’s just as boring," she replies, out of the blue. "I mean—probably not what you’re looking for. Besides, she’s taken."<br/>
<br/>
Well, she’s right for one. Lisa was already taken by Geoff Mansfield, another AP student and a jerk in your eyes. But it’s impossible that Natalie’s talking about her, if she heard from her recently. And of course, it was in reaction to what you said about Lisa in the first place. So, who’s she talking about?<br/>
<br/>
Then it clicks. She means Gillian.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, sure. Wonder what happened with Brandon...?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he got bored of being her ‘hubby’," she says, dripping caustic sarcasm with each letter. "I don’t see what she sees in him."<br/>
<br/>
"Me neither, but... Maybe that’s what interests her?"<br/>
<br/>
Natalie scoffs. "Sounds like you know her."<br/>
<br/>
"Not exactly."<br/>
<br/>
"And him? You know about Braydon?"<br/>
<br/>
"As much as everyone else. That he’s a lot into the occult and that stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you’d know him better, since you mentioned him." She points at your bookbag. "Plus, it feels like <i>he’d</i> know better about that book of yours. <i>If</i> it was the real deal." She turns away from you, sighing. "What <i>does</i> Gilly see in him?"<br/>
<br/>
Those words echo fiercely in your mind. <i>What do people see in those that can’t offer them what they need?</i> You thought you had it figured out with Lisa, but all of a sudden, she dropped you, only to go with a jerk.<br/>
<br/>
"Delp doesn’t even care about comic books. I don’t think he even cares about games. I think he’s just confused and thinks D&amp;D’s a way to learn more about the occult. Gilly doesn’t even like it that much; it’s like she follows him just because..."<br/>
<br/>
There’s a lot of angry venting, and you can’t help but feel she’s a kindred spirit. Lisa wasn’t a money-grubber or an attention seeker. She liked walks at the park, or just hanging out together. Now, she doesn’t even give you the time of day, preferring to be with preppies rather than...<br/>
<br/>
Then again, it’s not the same between them. Natalie and Gillian are still friends, and still talk to each other. Maybe she’s just jealous? Why would she be jealous?<br/>
<br/>
You feel like calling her on her bullshit—at least she still has a friend. Except... Maybe she feels she no longer has a friend. Maybe she needs a friend, and that’s why she gave those signs. Kindred spirits? Maybe she saw in you what she’s suffering. Maybe it’s a call for aid.<br/>
<br/>
And that could probably blossom into something else...<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111343222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Games That Girls Play
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You feel like you don't know this girl well enough to argue with her, so you let her vent, and content yourself with nudging her with questions about Gillian and Braydon. <br/>
<br/>
Questions like: "So how did they hook up?"<br/>
<br/>
Natalie snorts. "Hook up?" she echoes. "He put a spell on her."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm joking. Prob'ly it was at a party. I don't even remember when I first met him. You notice that about him, right? Even though he's such a creep, he just sort of slithers around in the background."<br/>
<br/>
You allow that Braydon Delp doesn't really jump around and draw attention to himself.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, doesn't he?" she sneers. "What do you think all that freaking jewelry is about, and that mascara? He's a total whore for attention. Just in a bad way. Oh God!" she groans. "I probably sound like a total bitch." She hops off the table. "Wanna go get something to eat? I'm hungry, and it's making me <i>hangry."</i><br/>
<br/>
So you offer to take her to get a bite. "Don't forget your book and your art project," she reminds you, and it is a little embarrassing to have to turn around and fetch them off the table.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind up at Taco Famoso, which is an infamously bad Mexican fast-food place, but is really cheap and you're on a very tight budget since blowing most of your savings on the the stuff to make that mask. At least the flat tacos are semi-edible, and Natalie seems not to notice or care about the shitty quality as she munches down on hers. Over the meal and on the drive out she told you a little more about Braydon and Gillian.<br/>
<br/>
She and Gillian used to hang out a lot, even though they went to different schools. They would meet up at Catherine Muskov's house after school—this was back when Catherine went to Eastman, before she moved to Westside—and do homework and talk, then either go home or (if it was a Friday) go out to a party.<br/>
<br/>
(There came a lengthy digression at this point when Natalie asked if you were ever out at the Warehouse, the kids-only all-weekend rave in the decrepit and dangerous industrial section of the city. You lied and told her that you were sometimes out there, and so she talked to you knowingly about some of the creeps and cretins out there, sharing about how she'd had to kick some guys in the family jewels a couple of times, but it was worth it on account of some of the bands that played there, and she asked if you'd ever been "upstairs." And, since you had no real idea what she was talking about—you'd only heard rumors about the place—you shrugged and said you'd been up "once or twice," and she burst out laughing and asked "who with," and when you said you didn't remember off hand, she gasped and gave you a very long and very merry stare, like she was about to call bullshit on your lies, but instead she just laughed to herself and changed the subject back to Gillian and Braydon. It left you feeling embarrassed and shame-faced and tongue-tied.)<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, Gillian during her junior year fell in with a crowd of drama people. She'd always been a semi-theatrical personality anyway, and she got a little gothy, and <i>that,</i> said Natalie, was probably what got Braydon creeping up to her. At first it didn't really seem serious between them. Gillian still hung out with her theater friends, but then she also started hanging out with Braydon's friends—Christian and Howie and them. And that was great at first, Natalie said, because it meant that Gillian was at the comic shop almost every day over the summer, and that wasn't far from Natalie's house and she liked hanging out at the shop because Eric Kim (who she goes out of her way a couple of times to say is a <i>really cool guy</i>) would let her read his stock without buying it and let her study and copy the drawings into her notebooks while Gillian and Braydon did their roleplaying with the other guys.<br/>
<br/>
Except Gillian didn't really seem into the roleplaying. She'd treat it as a joke and it made the other guys tired, except for Braydon, who also started treating it as kind of a joke.<br/>
<br/>
But later, when Natalie went in to the shop, the other guys would be there but more often than not Gillian and Braydon wouldn't, even though Gillian had <i>texted to say</i> that she'd be at King Kong. And if she did come in, which more often than not she didn't, it would be hours late, and Braydon would be hanging off her like crepe paper.<br/>
<br/>
Natalie even demonstrated how he "hung off" her. She scootched up close to you and put her chin on your shoulder and looked up at you with moony calf eyes. Then she backed off with a shudder. It gave you a little thrill to have her nestled up close that way, even if it was only for a few seconds.<br/>
<br/>
And now Gillian doesn't go to Catherine's anymore, and she's hardly ever at the comic book shop, and when Natalie asks Gillian where she hangs out, she'll titter and say things like <i>In the back seat of Braydon's car.</i> Ycchh!<br/>
<br/>
At the end of it, Natalie crumples up the taco wrappings and looks around with a sneer of vexation. "Jeez! Why'd you let me go on like this?"<br/>
<br/>
"You sounded like you needed to get it off your chest."<br/>
<br/>
She does a little double-take at you, and for the first time you get the impression that she is really looking at you. "Who are you friends with?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You think you've told her already, but you rattle off the names of the usual suspects: Caleb and Keith, along with Carson Ioeger, James Lamont, Jenny Ashton ... and few more as they occur to you.<br/>
<br/>
"And Christian and Howie and them," she adds. You don't contradict her, even though you hardly talk to that crowd, you only know them from school.<br/>
<br/>
"There's a soccer meet on Saturday afternoon," she tells you. "At the metropolitan fields. Eastman versus Westside, the girls' teams. Wanna go to it with me?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Did she just ask me out on a date?</i> you wonder. Whether she did or not, you accept the suggestion, and she takes your phone from you again, like she did yesterday, to put the event into your calendar. "God," she observes as she taps it in. "You've got <i>nothing</i> on your schedule!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't hear from Natalie for the rest of the week, and you don't pester her. You just assume that you'll see her on Saturday and that will be it.<br/>
<br/>
In the meantime, you continue to work on that mask, polishing it a little each day while watching videos, DVDs, or streaming something. You concentrate on areas of it at a time, rubbing it until it won't turn any bluer and all the whitish streaks are gone. But even then, by the time the weekend comes, you've only got about two-thirds of it done. You just don't have the stamina or enthusiasm to work at it any harder.<br/>
<br/>
On Saturday morning you wake to a text from Natalie: <i>Gillian comng too can u pick her up?</i> You reply that you can, and Natalie sends you an address and Gillian's number.<br/>
<br/>
You don't actually have a lot of time to get ready, because it's already after nine and the match starts at eleven. You quickly shower and dress, and it's not a quarter past ten before you're running out the door. Even though you're only picking Gillian up, you feel nervous.<br/>
<br/>
She's not out front when you pull up at her house, so you text her to say you've arrived. <i>Come in,</i> she replies, but she comes out the door as you're mounting the porch. "Are you shy, Will?" she asks with a twinkly smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"My dad won't bite your head off if you come in."<br/>
<br/>
"What? No, I—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just teasing. But jeez, way to treat a girl. 'Hey, I'm outside, get yer ass out here!'"<br/>
<br/>
You gasp, both because of what she said, and also at the way she slips an arm into yours. "I didn't—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have a girlfriend, Will? Natalie says you don't have a girlfriend, but I think she's full of shit." She pulls you down the walk, back toward your truck, and you stumble along beside her. "Maybe you don't have a girlfriend, though. If you did, I bet she'd have you trained by now not to pull up in front of a girl's house and blast the horn. Do you want to open the door for me?" You're at the truck now. "Never mind." She lets go of your arm and dimples at you. "I can do it myself."<br/>
<br/>
You stagger around to the driver's side and climb in. "Are we picking up Braydon?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"My hubby?" Gillian bursts out laughing. "Not for where we're going. It's noon and he's practically a vampire. We're going to the soccer game, aren't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"That exhibition match? Yeah, that's what Natalie—"<br/>
<br/>
"Are we?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, yeah!</i> That's what you were about to say, but something in Gillian's tone of voice has caught your ear, and you look over at her. She's smiling impishly at you, and as you stare back, one of her eyebrows goes up.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Are we going to the soccer match?</i> is what she is clearly saying. <i>Or are we going to go do something else?</i><span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1113432222
author_id: rugal
title: Field Babes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Gillian definitely wants me to go off somewhere else alone with her</i>, you think to yourself... and the worst part is that you don't know what to do!<br/>
<br/>
It reminds you of earlier in the week when she had you keep her company at the comic shop and so you can't help but to be excited. But you put a clamp down on that excitement. She has a boyfriend, after all... unless she doesn't. Maybe they're on the outs because of what happened on Tuesday; Gillian definitely seemed to be upset about it. Maybe they're broken up and she wants to quickly rebound.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe they're not broken up but she just wants to make her boyfriend jealous. If you took her out to lunch and someone saw you, if <i>Braydon</i> saw you, then that could mean trouble. Going to the soccer match, however, means you can spend time with Gillian while having the plausible excuse that you were simply giving her a ride up there to meet up with a mutual friend.<br/>
<br/>
Wait, is Natalie your friend? Well, you want to her to be, at any rate, which means that it wouldn't be good to stand her up.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we're going to the game," you tell her after much (but quick!) internal debate. "I mean, it'd be kind of shitty of us to leave Natalie off on her own while we go have fun by ourselves, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Gillian studies you with amusement before smiling and giggling softly. "Yeah, you're right," she says. "You know, Will, that's a good quality to have."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" you dopily respond as you pull out of the driveway and onto the street.<br/>
<br/>
"Keeping your word and not standing a girl up. We like that."<br/>
<br/>
"You do?" you ask. "I figured everyone liked that."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Some</i> boys need to be reminded of that, I guess," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you mad at Braydon for not showing up at the comic shop a few days ago?"<br/>
<br/>
But Gillian doesn't take the bait—were you actually trying to drop bait?—and instead counters your question with an observation. "You and Natalie spent a lot of time together after I left, huh?" she asks you. "She said you showed her this cool place that she refused to tell me about because she said it was totally top secret."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, I didn't swear her to secrecy or anything," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say you did, that's just how her brain works," she snickers.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not like my and my friends have told anyone else about it, either."<br/>
<br/>
"Except Natalie, right?" she teases. "So what else did the two of you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um... there was Taco Famoso--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh god, Taco Barfoso!? You didn't actually eat the food, did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"A little," you say as you feel yourself begin to sweat nervously. "We mostly just, you know, talked. About classes we have and friends and stuff like that. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
But Gillian says nothing of substance to that beyond a simple "just curious". However, she does add something after looking down at her phone. "You're a pretty nice guy for keeping her company like that," she tells you. "I guess I've got good instincts."<br/>
<br/>
You don't even pretend to know what she meant by that.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You arrive at the field though it looks like the game hasn't started yet. So you and Gillian mill around for a bit, grabbing some hot dogs and sodas from the concession area. As the two of you are putting on your condiments, you find yourselves accosted by two girls. One of them is wearing glasses and looks rather plain compared to her camera wielding companion, a girl with hair dyed half-purple and looking like she crawled out of a garage sale.<br/>
<br/>
"We're from the Eastman school paper," the glasses girl says, "and we're asking people about the game. So you guys are Wests—" She abruptly stops, however, as she seems to stumble over her words before picking herself back up. "I mean, are you Westside or Eastman students?"<br/>
<br/>
You find yourself thrown off and it's Gillian who quickly jumps in. "Westside, duh!" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"So you guys are here to cheer on Westside, then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope!" Gillian exclaims as she wraps her arms around your own arm, pulls you against her and squeezes. "We're just here to take in the atmosphere and have fun!" She then looks at the girl with the camera. "Hey, make sure you take a picture, okay? Print it in the paper if you want!"<br/>
<br/>
The girl acquiesces to Gillian's demand and snaps a few photos before the glasses girl thanks you and moves on. Gillian laughs a bit after they leave, although she demurs from saying anything when you ask her what's so funny. Not that it matters because it's not long before you hear another voice call your name. You find yourself freezing up when you see who it belongs to.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie Wyatt is a girl from the basketball team. She's also girl who you've known since the fourth grade. She's tall, athletic and strong and has a perpetually hard gaze that makes her seem like she's always ten seconds away from kicking someone's ass. Frighteningly, that gaze is trained right on you. "Prescott," she says in a voice that hits you like a cinderblock. You think you actually flinch a little when she calls out your name. "You seen Eva or Jessica around anywhere?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eva and--uh, no. I haven't," you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"Whazzat?" she asks as she leans in.<br/>
<br/>
"I, uh, said that I haven't seen them," you say a little more forcefully.<br/>
<br/>
"Hrm," Stephanie grunts as she takes a step back and scans the crowd. Her eyes fall back on you, however, and you can't help but to think that she looks like a lioness sizing up a wounded gazelle. "You get yourself a girl?" she asks as she looks over at Gillian.<br/>
<br/>
For the second time in as many minutes, you find yourself unable to speak and so it's Gillian who jumps in once more. She drapes her arms over your shoulders, letting them hang in front of your chest. She clasps her hands and you feel her chin rest on your shoulder. "Will's not my hubby but he's keeping me company and showing me a good time," she says, adding a girlish giggle to the end of her statement.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie eyes you up quietly and you think she's about to pounce, but to your surprise she backs down. "Well good for you," she says to you as she walks past and disappears into the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
You let out a sigh of relief once she's gone and Gillian lets go of you. Not that you don't like having her grabbing and pulling and squeezing you but it's making you feel nervous. What if someone who knows Braydon sees? What is she even trying to get out of it? Is she trying to rile you up? Is she flirting seriously? Is she just a naturally touchy feely sort of person? And where the hell is Natalie?<br/>
<br/>
That last question, at least, gets answered shortly when you receive a text from her apologizing but saying she has some errands she has to run with her family. You relay the message to Gillian who merely shrugs it off.<br/>
<br/>
"Too bad, looks like you're stuck with me," she teases. "But that's not so bad, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It is, in fact, not bad at all. She continues to grab and poke and brush at you. In spite of her earlier denial, she cheers on the Westside players and the game winds up passing by quicker than you'd have thought. At one point Paul Davis, a friend of Carson's and James' who you some times eat lunch with, chats with you for a minute as he passes by but the rest of the early afternoon remains uneventful.<br/>
<br/>
It's as you're filing out after the game that you feel someone poke your shoulder. Looking over, you see Natalie walking next to you.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you weren't going to be able to make it," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"We got done quicker than I expected so I had them drop me off here. But the game was mostly over and I couldn't find you guys," she explains. She then looks past you and towards Gillian on your opposite side. "Hey, gimme a ride back home?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't, sorry. I'm getting a late lunch with Braydon," Gillian replies. Her attention immediately turns to you. "But Will would probably be happy to, right?" Though Gillian's expression is bright, you feel as if there's something hidden behind it telling you that you had better say yes.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure. It's no problem," you answer, not feeling as if you have a choice.<br/>
<br/>
Natalie's face scrunches up but she seems to accept that. "So where are you parked?" she asks. When you point out your truck, she takes off saying that she'll meet you there.<br/>
<br/>
Once she's out of earshot, Gillian leans in. "Remember what I was laughing about earlier? It was that girl from the school paper, the one with the glasses," she tells you in a low voice. "That was Genevieve. Anyway, I'll see you at school."<br/>
<br/>
You're left to ponder what she meant by that before remembering that Natalie had told you that she had a friend named Genevieve. So the girl was likely Natalie's friend but why Gillian needed to inform you of that or why she found it funny, you have no idea.<br/>
<br/>
Natalie, meanwhile, is already at your truck by the time you arrive. As she climbs into the passenger side, something seems to catch her eye and she reaches into the back. "Oh, you still got this thing?" she asks as she holds up the mask. You'd brought it and the book with you with you to work on out at the basement when you were done with the game. "Dude, it's still not done!?" she exclaims as she examines it.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's been going way slower than I expected," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
She looks at it briefly before she seems to be struck by inspiration. "Y'know, I might have something that'll help speed things up for you. You've been working on it all week, right?" You nod at that. "Okay, then swing by my place first so I can grab it and we can head over to your 'secret base' to try it out. If you're up for hanging out, that is."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11134322221
author_id: nostrum777
title: The Furtive Filcher
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Natalie’s offer is tempting. Being with someone’s better than being alone, and you could use the help on this. Two birds with one stone, you figure.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure," you say. "Beats doing this alone."<br/>
<br/>
"Great!" You fire up the truck’s engine, its sudden rumble provoking her into a fit of giggles. She rubs her fingers on the white strips still left on the mask, looking at them. "So, I thought a bit about it and how you’re supposed to polish it, and I figured—why not use something to polish things faster? Then I remembered Dad has a buffer to polish his car, and I figured that might do the trick."<br/>
<br/>
You curse yourself for not thinking about it. Your dad also has that machine—he doesn’t let you touch his stuff, which is why you probably ignored it—and you could’ve probably at least tried it while he’s not around.<br/>
<br/>
"Cool," you can only muster to reply. You’re still sore that she thought this before you could, as you drive her away from the stadium. She entertains you with small talk, but you’re still sore that she outsmarted you on that one.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
"Come in!" she says, and you feel a strange déjà vu all over. It intensifies when she says, "Dad won’t bite your head off if you come in," but she probably must’ve seen your reaction because she immediately follows with "plus, I need you to help me bring it out."<br/>
<br/>
Buffers aren’t that heavy, though, so you figure this must be an excuse to have you in. "Alright," you respond, and immediately hop off towards the sidewalk.<br/>
<br/>
Compared to your secluded location, Natalie lives practically in the middle of everything. The Warehouse, for instance, is practically within walking distance. Being properly in downtown, though, her house, which stands across from an apartment complex, is something of a cross between a duplex and a walk-up apartment, with basement parking. You idly wonder how much it’d cost to live in this kind of place (expensive because of the location, or cheap because of the neighborhood) before noticing you’re pretty much there—down a hallway with stairs leading up and down, dividing the four housing units, then turning towards the right.<br/>
<br/>
She opens the door and exclaims "Mom, Dad, I’m home!" while taking off her sneakers. She puts on some slippers, and you wonder if you should take your own sneakers off before she exclaims, "It’s a little quirk of mine." Her house has a pretty modern feel, with white walls accented with black and wooden floor, which surprises you a little. She leads you into the living room, which has a rich black cushioned couch and seats surrounding a huge flat-screen TV with speakers all around, where her parents are.<br/>
<br/>
You timidly wave to them. Her dad has the same vibe as yours—same stare, same posture, even the same attire of short-sleeved shirt and polyester pants—but he's younger, and he has sandy hair with graying sideburns over a well-kept full beard that gives him a pretty macho look.<br/>
<br/>
Natalie takes a lot more from her mother—same elfin features, same freckles, but with deep black hair bobbed up to the shoulders. She also seems younger than your mom, and she's quite attractive.<br/>
<br/>
"Mom, Dad, this is Will," she tells them. "The guy I was talking to you about." That quickly? you think to yourself. "Will, this is my dad, Henry, and this is my mom, Clarisse."<br/>
<br/>
You shake hands with her mother first, then as you take her dad's hand you blurt out, "Natalie told me you work with my dad."<br/>
<br/>
"You’re Harris’ son, right?" He gives a good look at you, a bit in disbelief. "We work on some projects together, yeah. Nice to meet you—your dad doesn’t talk a lot about you."<br/>
<br/>
You wince, but they don’t seem to notice. You and your dad don’t have the best of relationships, and hearing that he barely mentions you to his working partners makes you feel worse. You see how Natalie’s parents seem to treat her better, and you can’t help but feel the smallest bit of envy.<br/>
<br/>
"Dad, I was wondering if you could lend me that buffer thing of yours. Will here needs to polish his truck, and he wondered if he could—"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks! But we’re gonna take it back to his place, if that's all right."<br/>
<br/>
Henry gives you a long stare. "I want it back just as it was, alright?"<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. Thanks, Dad!" Her father disappears into the dining room, and you chat idly with Clarisse until he reappears with the machine, still on its box.<br/>
<br/>
A few farewells later, back in your truck, you wonder just how close she is to her parents, that they barely question why she’s there with a random stranger asking for a car buffer.<br/>
<br/>
"My parents are cool like that," she replies when you ask. Perhaps way cooler than yours, you think.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
Once again, when you're at the school basement, you’re miffed that you didn’t think of this earlier. After searching high and low you find an outlet, and Natalie plugs in the buffer. The rest of the work, which would likely have taken you the rest of the weekend, if not longer, is completed in a handful of minutes. The mask now gleams strangely all over, and looks like if had transformed from ceramic into metal. Natalie studies it with a look of wonder. "Cool. How the heck did you do make this?"<br/>
<br/>
The question’s pretty stupid—with the book, of course—but you only reply, "I’m as surprised as you are."<br/>
<br/>
"So what are you going to do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
You ask yourself the same question but are distracted by the chime on your phone. "Mind if I check this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is it your girlfriend?" she purrs slyly.<br/>
<br/>
"No! No! It’s, um—" You squint at the screen. "It's Caleb, one of my friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Ryerson?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? No, Johansson." She nods, and you open Caleb's text.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes almost fall out of your head as you read it. "Uh, 'scuse me a minute while I take care of this?"<br/>
<br/>
"No problem," Natalie says. She perches on the work table and idly turns the mask over and over in her hands.<br/>
<br/>
You run up the stairs and out the door, coming to a stop just outside, to bite your lip as you read Caleb's text again: <i>dude wth? wat's that abt u and gillam keefr @ soccer game?</i><br/>
<br/>
There was no way you wanted Natalie seeing that and getting the wrong idea about you and Gillian. But now that you give it a second and a third read, you wonder more about the fact that Caleb is texting you about it. He wasn't there and you didn't tell him, so how would he know about you and Gillian and the exhibition match?<br/>
<br/>
<i>pdavis,</i> he says when you ask. That would be Paul. While you're wondering why Paul would be telling Caleb—and as you're wondering who else he told—Caleb writes, <i>Dude what r u ding w delps girl?<br/>
<br/>
Just keepn company,</i> you reply.<br/>
<br/>
<i>delp will hex u fr sure lol</i><br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. Caleb is just joking, of course, but you can't help wondering if there's a serious warning beneath. Braydon Delp is small and he seems soft. But given the way Gillian was hanging on you, he could get jealous. And you're not sure you want someone with his occult interests and his kind of imagination getting mad at you and deciding to get even.<br/>
<br/>
You're tapping in a text asking Caleb who else Paul might have told when a pair of arms twine themselves around you from behind. You've just time to hear a giggle when something dark and suffocating goes over your face.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
You wake up in a rush, and sit up with a hard, hacking cough. You look all around. You are sprawling on the grass in front of the elementary school basement door, with your cell phone resting on the ground nearby. You pluck it up and look at the messages.<br/>
<br/>
The name <i>delp</i> jumps out at you.<br/>
<br/>
You are groggy and probably not thinking clearly as you stumble back down into the basement. So when you find that Natalie's not there, and that both the book and the mask are missing as well, it's not hard to conjoin those disappearances and Braydon Delp's name into an irrational but sinister suspicion. Especially when you look back at your phone and see that Caleb's last text says, <i>Fuck delp just txtd me says hes lookg for u!!!</i><br/>
<br/>
You reach up to rub your head, which is starting to ache. That's when you discover something even worse.<br/>
<br/>
Your cap is gone!<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111343222213
author_id: seuzz
title: Lost and Loster
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Where the hell has Natalie got off to?</i> you wonder as you stagger back outside. She disappears, you get conked out, Braydon Delp is on the hunt for you ... All the elements come together in an equation to make those in your calculus class look down right friendly.<br/>
<br/>
You circle the elementary school, squinting for any sign of Natalie, until you come to the doors leading into the community center. You look inside. There are a lot of cafeteria-style tables set up, some with computers, and others stacked with board games, and you're surprised to see, along the back wall, some old arcade games, like they have at the miniature golf course. But the place is empty, save for a paunchy man dressed in the tan uniform of a security officer, and a middle-aged woman in jeans, a t-shirt, and bifocals. You're about to turn away when the guard calls to you. "Can I help you, sir?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um, have you seen a girl around here? A teenage girl," you add after glancing at the woman, who has looked up to study you. "Kinda red hair, freckles?"<br/>
<br/>
"No sir." His lip twitches. "Is it your lady friend you've lost?"<br/>
<br/>
It's not a funny joke, and you grimace. But the word "lost" echoes in your head. "Do you have a lost and found?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes sir. Did you lose something else? Because no one's been by to drop a freckled red-head into the box."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, hardy-har-har.</i> "A book," you mumble. "And a mask. Blue. Looks like it's made out of— And my ball cap." You pat your hair.<br/>
<br/>
"These were <i>your</i> items, sir?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Look, never mind." You suddenly feel very foolish, and wonder if you received a concussion when you fell, because you feel like you're acting like you're half out of your mind. "I probably just dropped them somewhere on the grass around—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll come help you look, sir. Even if we don't find your items, maybe we'll find the girl. Or maybe we'll find a blonde who's almost as good."<br/>
<br/>
He hikes up his belt and with a raffish grin follows you out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
All the way back around the building you stammer that you don't need his help, but he brushes your objections aside with "Glad to help, glad to help, it's what they pay us for." But when you come around to where your truck is parked, he starts to lose his humor.<br/>
<br/>
"Is this your vehicle, sir?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Would you mind not parking it on the grass when you come over? There's a parking lot on the other side, near the entrance."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I wasn't— Okay."<br/>
<br/>
He walks up and down the side of the building, until he comes to the steps leading down to the basement door. He freezes, and so do you when you look at the top of the door (which is clearly visible) and see that it is half open.  A blush of fear runs up the back of your head.<br/>
<br/>
The guard goes down the steps, pushes the door open, and peers inside. When he turns to look up at you, every trace of humor is gone from his face and voice. But he continues to be polite and punctilious. "Was this door open when you got here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I— I didn't notice."<br/>
<br/>
"Why <i>did</i> you park on this side of the building?"<br/>
<br/>
"I— I was meeting someone and I knew they'd be coming up this road." You point at the street nearby. "So I—"<br/>
<br/>
"And it was around here that you lost your items?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. Your voice has failed, and you feel a crimson blush rising like a sheet of flame over your face.<br/>
<br/>
The guard pushes the door open and steps inside. After looking down into the basement and pulling his nose a couple of times, he does a double take at the padlock still dangling off the bolt at the top of the door. He takes it down, examines it, pushes it closed. "Did you look down here for your items?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I t-told you, I didn't notice the door was ..." Your voice dies in your throat.<br/>
<br/>
"Is there any chance your missing girl has your items?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe."<br/>
<br/>
He glances down at your hand, which is clutching your phone. "Do you have her contact information?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You hang your head. "I guess I could call or text her."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I would do."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh-huh. Well ... thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"My pleasure. But remember, in the future, park in the lot. That's what it's there for."<br/>
<br/>
You nod glumly, and climb into your truck. The officer watches as you turn the motor over, back into the street, and drive away. You watch him in the rearview mirror as he descends into the basement again.<br/>
<br/>
It's not until you have pulled up in front of your house that you remember that Natalie's dad's car buffer is down there, probably still plugged in.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's for that reason that you don't text Natalie right away. You wait a very antsy hour first, during which you text Caleb to tell him you don't have time to see Braydon. He seems vastly amused by that, saying that he's looking forward to seeing you at school on Monday, after Delp has turned you into a newt. But you've got enough things to not laugh about without adding that one.<br/>
<br/>
After about thirty minutes you get out your bike and make a slow circuit of the neighborhood, passing the community center a couple of times while pointedly ignoring it, until you've decided that it won't look suspicious if you wheel by the basement door for a quick look. You feel an equal balance of hope and fear as you dismount, even after you see that the door is closed. But both emotions give way to despair when you see there's a new padlock bolting it closed. You glance around, then drop to your stomach to peer in through one of the filthy windows that peep through the grass at ground level, to try spotting the buffer. But there's too much junk in the way to see if it's still there, no matter how you twist or through which window you look. You're terrified that that guard is going to come back and catch you, so you take off for home again.<br/>
<br/>
But you stop on a street corner to text Natalie: <i>whre r u wat happnd cant find u?</i> Then, without waiting for a reply, you text <i>cop caut me in basement chased me out door on basemtn lockd new padlock ur dads buffer inside cant get to it.</i> After a few minutes of anxious waiting without a reply, you pedal back home.<br/>
<br/>
Both texts are reported delivered, but after a prodding <i>r u there its important</i> goes unanswered for thirty minutes, you call her directly. She doesn't pick up.<br/>
<br/>
That's when you start to get worried.<br/>
<br/>
Who do you know to call, who might know where Natalie is or might be? There's only one name that comes to you: Gillian Kiefer.<br/>
<br/>
"Hello-oh!" she warbles when she picks up. "Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, uh, sorry to call you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Did Braydon catch up to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... No."<br/>
<br/>
"You know he's looking for you, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You swallow. "How come?"<br/>
<br/>
She laughs. "Because I told him I was with you!"<br/>
<br/>
You almost drop the phone. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>I</i> didn't tell him, I got Susie to tell him. You know Susie Lekuawehe? I told her to tell Braydon I was with you. But Susie gets confused sometimes, so I wasn't sure if the message got back to him. He keeps pestering me, but I'm pretending my phone's off."<br/>
<br/>
All of this goes right past you. "Have you seen Natalie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, at the soccer game. She was with you."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, since then."<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm trying to call her—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's fine to chase girls, Will, but you have to give them space to breathe, otherwise you come off as a stalker."<br/>
<br/>
"I need to talk to her! I— Um. I lost something that belongs to her dad."<br/>
<br/>
Gillian, whose tone has been as effervescent as helium-infused champagne, instantly sobers. "What did you lose?"<br/>
<br/>
"A car buffer. Listen, Natalie knows all about it, but she's not answering my texts—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll get right on it, Will. Oh, by the way, if Braydon does get in touch with you, tell him you dropped me off at the movies. I was going to meet, um ... Aaron and Daniel there."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you reply, though you've no idea who "Aaron and Daniel" are.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You text that message to Caleb to pass on to Braydon ("I dropped Gillian off at the movies to meet Aaron and Daniel there"), then sit back to wait. Ten minutes later Gillian texts to say that it's all okay, Natalie got the buffer back to her dad. But when you ask <i>How?!?!</i>, and then text Natalie to ask the same question, you never get a reply from either of them.<br/>
<br/>
At a little before six, your dad sends you out to bring home pizza for supper. As you trudge out to your truck, you wonder if you should make some additional stops while you're out. By Natalie's, perhaps. Or by the school, to see if you can break back into the basement. You don't really believe she could have gotten the car buffer back.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe you should forget all about it. Natalie seems weird and flighty. If losing that book and mask is the price to pay for escaping from her unscathed, perhaps it was worth it.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1113432222131
author_id: rugal
title: Clearing the Air
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You could stop by Natalie's but you quickly realize that's totally unfeasible. Like Gillian had warned, you don't want to come off as a stalker and you're not sure how well stopping by her place unannounced would go over, either with her parents or with her. Yeah, you'd <i>really</i> come off as a creep, then. Plus there's the matter of you having no clue how you'll get back into the basement. You don't know the first thing about picking a lock, after all. But above all of that, you know that your dad would be upset with you if you took any unnecessary detours.<br/>
<br/>
So out of a lack of real options more than anything else, you decide to lay everything aside and just go get that pizza. You do still want to make sure things are good with Natalie, however, so you shoot her a text: <i>Gillian says u got buffer back is things ok?</i> You don't even expect her to reply, so you're thunderstruck when she texts as you're finishing up dinner: <i>can u meet me @ scool basement?</i><br/>
<br/>
Maybe you're feeling a little pissy, because you decide to leave her hanging and don't respond immediately. This prompts another, more desperate sounding text from her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>will im sry but its rly rly important! plz!!!!!</i><br/>
<br/>
At that you give in and text her back, telling her that you'll meet her as soon as you can. Your dad questions where you're going but all you say is that you're going to meet up with some friends and that you'll be back later. There's not much your dad can do except to remind you of your curfew. You assure him that you probably won't even be out all that long but that you'll be mindful of the time all the same. Then you hop in your truck and head out towards the community center.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
For the second time today, you pull up to the Acheson Community Center although this time you make it a point to park in the parking lot—you really don't want to risk catching the attention of that annoying guard again—and make your way over to the school building and towards the basement. Natalie is sitting on the ground, face in her phone and back against the door, as you trudge over. When she spots you, she quickly pushes herself up and you note that her face is pale and expression panicked.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" she cries out. "Oh thank god, you have to help me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, hold on," you say as pull up to where she is. "What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"That!" she exclaims as she points to the lock. "I need you to open it!"<br/>
<br/>
You look at her, shake your head and sigh. "I <i>can't</i> open it," you tell her. "That dumb security guard changed the lock."<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you for a moment, totally dumbfounded. "They changed the—can't you just, like, pick the lock?" she insists.<br/>
<br/>
"I have no idea how to do that!" you exclaim in return. "I mean it wasn't even locked when me and my friend found it. I'd need bolt cutters or something to get it off. And probably a new lock, too."<br/>
<br/>
"Then go get it!" she cries desperately. "Hell, <i>I'll</i> get you the stuff, but I need to get in there!"<br/>
<br/>
It's not late and Walmart would definitely still be open so you could get what you need pretty easily and if Natalie is offering to pay, then even better. This <i>is</i> partly her fault, after all. Plus, she seems pretty freaked out and desperate and you're certainly curious to know why. So you ask her just that. She's quiet for a minute and awkwardly looks down at the ground, like she's ashamed, before she finally mutters something.<br/>
<br/>
"I, uh, maybe lied," she admits. "My dad's buffer is kinda sorta still down there."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get the story from her on the drive out to Walmart.<br/>
<br/>
She'd gotten the idea to put that mask on you. Not for any nefarious purpose but just to surprise you as a joke. What she didn't expect was for it to literally sink into you and when it did, for you to fall to the ground. She panicked and tried to wake you up but it was pointless because you were totally unconscious. In her harried state she saw the book and the weird pentagram and Latin words. She did a quick translation and she couldn't help but think that you were "like Braydon" which was only reinforced, in her mind, by a message she saw on your phone that Braydon was looking for you.<br/>
<br/>
So the two of you were obviously up to something and it was something weird involving her and this freaky book and the mask that had knocked you out so she grabbed it all up and hightailed it out of there.<br/>
<br/>
"Natalie," you sigh, "that's completely insane."<br/>
<br/>
"I know! But I was just so freaked out that I wasn't thinking straight! I mean, I watched that mask, like, <i>melt</i> into you and knock you out! I didn't know what the hell was going on!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well I'm not in any kind of cahoots with Braydon," you say. "Fuck, I want to <i>avoid</i> him because somehow half the school somehow already knows that I was out with Gillian today so he's probably pissed at me."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah but you have that, uh, magic book and he likes magic so I thought that maybe—"<br/>
<br/>
"I've barely ever spoken to him!" you protest. "Like I said, I picked up the book at Arnholm's because it was cheap. I was intending to submit it for this dumb time capsule project for my sociology class originally. I'm not some kind of occult freak like Braydon but it's, apparently, real magic so who wouldn't be interested?"<br/>
<br/>
Nothing is said beyond that and you glance over to see Natalie, arm propped against the door, staring out the window. "Sorry for being a dumbass," she says softly. "God, I act like such a stupid kid some times."<br/>
<br/>
You're not really sure what to say to that and so you wind up driving the rest of the way to Walmart in silence. But with a little time to cool down, you decide that you can't stay all that mad at her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're able to grab the stuff that you need and true to her word, Natalie pays for it. She explains that while doesn't have a job right now, her parents are somewhat generous in providing an allowance—she insists on calling it a stipend—for their daughter. The two of you then make your third trip back to basement where you're able to successfully get the current lock off and put the new one in place. Natalie wonders if they'll get pissed that the lock was changed but you guess that they probably won't even notice.<br/>
<br/>
"Nobody noticed our original lock after all," you add.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, how <i>did</i> they notice it this time?" Natalie asks.<br/>
<br/>
It's your turn to feel embarrassed and contrite as you admit that it's your fault. "When I came to you were gone so I'd asked one of the security guards in the building if he'd seen you or my stuff," you explain. "When he was helping me look, he saw that the door was open and when I came by later that's when I saw the new lock."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess we were both dumbasses, then," Natalie replies with amusement.<br/>
<br/>
Down in the basement, you find the still plugged in car buffer and grab it. On the drive back to her place, she's now much chattier with a lot of focus on her interests, telling you about how she'd love to make comics or trying to convince you read certain manga that she likes. You're glad that her spirits seem to be up again after what you'd seen earlier.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, uh, about what you said earlier when we were driving out to Walmart?" you blurt out as you pull up to her home. "Don't worry about it, I'm not mad or anything. I like hanging out with your."<br/>
<br/>
That seems to catch her off guard. "I really thought you'd be super pissed off," she says with a nervous smile and laugh. "And, uh, yeah, I like hanging out with you, too. We can get together tomorrow, if you want."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's around ten on Sunday morning when Natalie texts you asking if you want to hang out, though you have to tell her to wait until later because you've got church with your family. Once it's done, you send her another one asking where she wants to meet but she says she'll swing on by your place and asks you for your address, which you give her. It's not terribly long before you hear the doorbell ringing and race down, opening the front door to see her standing on the other side. You invite her in though you're curious how she even got here.<br/>
<br/>
"Uber, duh," she answers with a giggle while handing you a bag. "Here, it's your stuff. I forgot to give it back to you yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
In a mirror of yesterday, you introduce Natalie to your parents and she makes it a point of telling your dad about her dad. His response is gruff but positive, saying that he's a good employee and that he'll likely go far in the company. You're ready to leave and are about to put the bag up in your room when Natalie stops you.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," she whispers, "you know I tried looking at the book last night out of curiosity and I couldn't turn the page. But there was this spot on it that was shaped like the mask and when I put the mask on it the page turned!"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Really?" you ask in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you say we go the base and take a look at it?"<br/>
<br/>
Well, you'd wanted a partner for the book a week ago and you'd considered Natalie as a potential one so this would eliminate that barrier. But she was also freaked out by it yesterday so you wonder if that's a good idea. You <i>do</i> want to hang out with her but you know you don't need the book for it, even if she's the one offering.<br/>
<br/>
Besides, you get a text from Caleb asking if you're doing anything today and that makes you wonder if it'd be good to bring him into this too. Or at least, introduce Natalie to some of your friends and bring her into your group. Maybe that'd dispel the idea to anyone that you and Gillian were up to anything yesterday.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11134322221311
author_id: nostrum777
title: The Perils of Pushing your Luck Too Hard
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As much as you’d want to show Natalie off to Caleb and the guys, you’re intrigued by something she mentioned. The mask you made supposedly sank into you. Not just that, she said that with it she could open the next page.<br/>
<br/>
In the course of a day, she seems to have done more with that book than what you could. You don’t need the book in order to be with her. But you’d be damned if you don’t take advantage of it now that she knows, and you wonder what else is in store.<br/>
<br/>
You ask her to wait while you change, and run upstairs to your bedroom. After coming out again in a slightly oversized T-shirt and jeans, you find Robert waiting for you. "What’cha lookin’ at?" you demand, for he is staring at you hard.<br/>
<br/>
He points to the head of the stairs. "That's a girl down there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course she's a girl, you dingus. What, you never seen one?"<br/>
<br/>
"What would a girl be doing with <i>you?"</i><br/>
<br/>
She's doing nothing with you yet, but you don’t want to miss the opportunity to one-up the little rat. "Doing what girls do with a guy. Hanging out. Kissing. Getting cooties."<br/>
<br/>
Robert snorts. Then he asks, "How do I get a chick like that, bro!?"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop being a smart-ass dweeb. Then maybe I’ll tell you." Satisfied, you run off the stairs with the last word, and tell your parents you’ll be taking Natalie around town, and that you’ll take her to her home. Your dad reminds you to at least be early for dinner, and you distractedly agree.<br/>
<br/>
It’s only as you’re on the steering wheel that you realize your brother was genuinely surprised to see you with a girl. Not just that; you could swear you saw your mother smiling at you. You glance at Natalie, and she returns a smile, and you wonder if this isn’t going too fast.<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't quite break the moment when she digs into her purse—which is enormous—and pulls out the hat you lost. "Forgot to tell you, I took this too."<br/>
<br/>
Still, it reminds you that you're hanging out with something of a dingbat.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
You’re back at the community center—which is slightly more crowded this time—and you keep an eye on the guard to see if he's still around. When you decide the coast is clear, you and Natalie slide your way around the building to the basement.<br/>
<br/>
With Natalie by your side, practically hanging off your arm, you flip to the page she told you she unlocked. Much like the first, its bottom half is inscribed with a huge, wheel-like sigil. Then you turn back to the reverse of the page with the first spell. With an online translator and Natalie's help, you puzzle out a translation, though it is harrowing work as the connection goes in and out, and your pencil breaks multiple times as you try to transcribe the English from your phone.<br/>
<br/>
When you're done, you give each other a long look. Then, though you've not said anything to each other, she pulls the mask from her oversized purse, and gives it a sober examination before handing it to you.<br/>
<br/>
The mask now has some lines inside, which seem to move as you shift it around in your hands. As you focus, you notice the lines seem to form an image—of a nose, and cheeks, and lips, and as you tilt it to look down the face, of the top of a chest. You’re kinda freaked out, but you read the book again, and your lips turn dry.<br/>
<br/>
The mask, apparently, has what the book calls your <i>imago.</i> It’s a pretty strange word, but you reckon it means something like "the entirety of your look" or something. In short—when Natalie knocked you out with the mask, it made and now contains a copy of how you look.<br/>
<br/>
The page continues with the suggestion that you can add more <i>imago</i> to it, which allows you to create a new <i>imago</i> that is not of anyone in particular. The idea intrigues you, but what it says next chills your bones.<br/>
<br/>
You can do it as many times as you want until you "seal" it. And once you seal it, the mask can be worn, and whoever wears it will appear as that person (or combination of persons) within the mask.<br/>
<br/>
You can't help suspecting that the next spell creates that "sealant" you need to give the mask its transformative abilities. So, if you were to make that sealant, and you added it to the mask, anyone could transform into you by using that mask.<br/>
<br/>
You’re lucky you didn’t call Caleb, as you fear the knowledge of the book—or worse, the mask!—would fall into the wrong hands and shenanigans would ensue, probably directly against <i>you!</i><br/>
<br/>
So it startles you when Natalie, who has been reading your notes over your shoulder exclaims, "Wicked!" You jump, and she says, "Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you."<br/>
<br/>
"It’s alright." You fumble the mask from hand to hand. "I guess if we finished this thing, someone could use it to turn themselves into me."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. That’s freaky." Her eyes dance. "We should test it out!"<br/>
<br/>
You were afraid she'd say that. "Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, to see if it’s real!" She begins pacing the room. "Of course, we couldn't test it out on <i>you!</i> I mean, how could we tell if it worked if it just changes you back into yourself? So, I guess ..." Her grin is gleeful and full of mischief. "I'd have to try it out?"<br/>
<br/>
"It could be really dangerous!" you remind her.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not worried." She bumps her shoulder against you, giving you a highly distracting boner. "And it's just a test. We'll do it in here. No one else has to know."<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
The next spell doesn't call for any ingredients that you don't already have on hand, but Natalie wants to see you make a mask, and she even offers to buy more supplies, even though you've got more than enough on hand. But it would put off the moment when she would be able to turn herself into your double, so you make another trip around the city, buying more of almost everything you already have. You also pick up some extra clothes at a thrift shop, and something to eat.<br/>
<br/>
Back in the basement, you execute the first spell again. The only change is that you don't use the sigil in the book (as you did the first time), for Natalie cautions that you don't want to risk damaging the book. So you hand-copy the sigil into a sketchbook that Natalie is carrying around in that capacious purse of hers, and use that instead. (When you tease her about how much stuff she is able to carry around in that purse, she tells you that her father calls it her "Tardis.") The rest goes off the same as before, right down to the infernal stink. You let Natalie pluck the cooling shell from off the mirror, so that she can be startled and squawk when it twists and changes shape in her hand.<br/>
<br/>
She uses the buffer on the mask to complete it while you copy the sigil of the second spell into her sketchbook, and you both finish at about the same time. Using the new copy, you execute the next spell. It uses almost exactly the same ingredients and proportions as the first spell, but this time (thank God!) it doesn't make a stink. The result is also a lot runnier: a think paste like paint or varnish. You set the bowl onto the book, and the page below turns when you lift it. This exposes an explanation of the second spell on the reverse of the turned page, and a third spell (Latin text and a sigil as with the others) on the facing page. The continuation of the earlier spell confirms that you have just made the sealant.<br/>
<br/>
"Now all we have to do is brush it into the mask," Natalie says.<br/>
<br/>
"So we need a paintbrush," you say. You look at her, then look down at her purse.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a real Tardis, you goose!" She smacks you lightly in the chest. "Why would I carry around a—?"<br/>
<br/>
So you scramble around the basement, looking for a paintbrush. And you do find one—old, stiff, dusty—in a lopsided cabinet. It takes only a few minutes to apply the sealant to the inside of the mask she made of you, and for it to dry.<br/>
<br/>
Natalie grasps the mask tightly and looks around. "I need a place to try it out! No peeking!" she adds as she grabs up the bag with the extra clothes you bought, and picks her way through the wreckage of a pommel horse to disappear behind some book cases.<br/>
<br/>
You give her two minutes, then follow to check up on her. You suck in a sharp breath when you find her.<br/>
<br/>
There's a narrow space behind the shelf, and lying on the dusty concrete floor is a scrawny, naked boy. He has your face.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow a huge lump that has bobbed its way into your throat, and slowly back out. A dizzy spell hits you, and you put out a hand to catch yourself.<br/>
<br/>
The bookcase you grab totters and topples, knocking over another and another and ... A great clattering crash, like an avalanche, roars through the basement.<br/>
<br/>
You stand stock still, in shock, until the echoes fade, straining your ears. For a very long time you hear nothing.<br/>
<br/>
You're about to relax when, to your horror, you hear the squeal and creak of floorboards above you, and the faint sound of voices. Someone must have heard, and they might come looking to find out what happened!<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111343222213111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Farce with Two Faces
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The voices above are faint and indistinct, but they're enough to frighten you. In all the times you've been out to the basement, you have never heard another voice nearby. You can only guess that the crashing bookcases made enough noise to alert that jerkwad of a security guard and maybe some other people.<br/>
<br/>
Your first instinct is to hide—the basement is stacked with old cabinets and tables and bookcases and crates, making a rabbit's warren of tunnels and cubbyholes—but whoever came looking might decide to bring in a crew and start putting it back together, and what if they found you then? Besides, they would find all your stuff, which is out in the open.<br/>
<br/>
<i>A distraction!</i> you think. <i>I need to head 'em off at the pass, if they come looking!</i> So you scramble for the stairs and duck outside, pulling the door closed behind you. You don't lock it, because Natalie is still inside—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Natalie!</i> Surely that racket must have woken her up! Almost you dash back in to check, then change your mind. She can come find you, and it's best for you to stay out here to head off anyone who comes snooping. You do hang the padlock back on the latch, though, and arrange it so that from a distance it maybe sort-of looks like it's clicked shut.<br/>
<br/>
You back away from the basement door and squint at the building. You've never paid close attention to this wing of the school. About three feet off the ground the walls are set back from the massive foundation stones and rise two stories to the eaves. They are punctuated by tall, narrow windows that blankly reflect the sunlight.<br/>
<br/>
No, wait this wing isn't quite like the others. The windows in this wing rise from the foundation all the way up to the eaves, whereas in the other wings there are two rows of windows, one for each floor. And in these windows the blinds on the inside are shut. It makes you wonder what's in this wing, directly above the basement.<br/>
<br/>
You've stood back far enough that you can see (and be seen from) around the corner, and your heart plunges when you see that security guard trudging toward you. He sees you too and stops. He frowns, then gestures you to join him. With a gulp, you trot over.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you hear anything?" he asks, sounding vexed.<br/>
<br/>
"Hear anything, sir?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like a train wreck. Or two cars crashing into each other." He peers around the grounds. The wide, grassy field in back of the school is empty, and the playground equipment abandoned, and the streets empty of cars.<br/>
<br/>
"No sir. Not a thing."<br/>
<br/>
"You were over there?" He points back the way you came.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes sir. I was just coming across the, uh, park to get to the other side." You point the way he'd come.<br/>
<br/>
"And you didn't hear anything?" he presses. "Huh," he says when you shake your head. "Okay, it must'a been inside." Without thanking you, he turns back toward the cafeteria and parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
But before you can breath a sigh of relief, he stops and looks back at you. "Are you on your way back to your truck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes sir." You feel sick, for your truck is plainly visible in the lot, and he's obviously recognized both it and you. "I was off at someone's house that way—" you improvise, pointing behind you, "and I parked here because I didn't want to park on the street. Is that okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, it's fine. Thanks for not parking on the grass again."<br/>
<br/>
He waits, and on heavy feet you trudge up to join him, and together you march out to the lot. He gives you a quick, sidelong glance before turning to go into the center, and you duck your head and climb into your truck.<br/>
<br/>
You sit there for a couple of minutes, chewing your lip and wondering what to do, before deciding to call Natalie, to see if she's awake and dressed yet. That's when you discover that in your rush you left your phone behind. You wait another minute, then hop out and bolt back around the school for the basement.<br/>
<br/>
You almost bust your nose on the door when you crash into it, and look up to find the padlock clicked shut. You blink at it, wondering if you did that on accident, then fumble out the key, unlock it, and hurry inside.<br/>
<br/>
"Natalie?" you call in a hoarse whisper. "Natalie!" There's no answer. You hurry into the back of the basement. She's gone. You yank your cap off your head and grab a fistful of hair. "Shit!"<br/>
<br/>
You run for the door, then whirl and scramble back to the work station you and she had set up. The buffer is still there and so are the supplies. But the bags with the clothes are gone, and so is the second mask that you'd made, and so is the book.<br/>
<br/>
And your cell phone is also gone.<br/>
<br/>
<i>So,</i> you decide after some quick, frantic thinking, <i>Natalie must've woken up, gotten dressed, seen the mess, seen I was gone, and gathered the stuff to go looking for me.</i> It doesn't seem like that long since you knocked all the shit over, but who knows.<br/>
<br/>
Except you didn't pass her on the way back. But— <i>Of course!</i> She must've gone around the school the other way!<br/>
<br/>
You bolt for the door and jog around to the front of the school. There's no sign of her, but you keep running until you've rounded the last corner and are racing back toward the parking lot. You're standing by your truck, your mouth pulled down in a giant frown, when you hear voices and glance over at the door to the community center. Three girls, about middle-school age, are coming out. And in the middle of the pack is a teenage boy with your face.<br/>
<br/>
You gape, then duck behind your truck and peer out.<br/>
<br/>
The girls are laughing and chatting at your doppelganger, who is grinning back at them with a slightly panicked smile. Together they turn the corner and walk off along the same path you'd followed earlier, toward the basement. Your double is carrying a bulky plastic sack, you notice.<br/>
<br/>
You wait until they're out of sight, then with your heart in your chest you jog after until you come to the corner, and peer around. They've crossed the street and are walking down the block away from you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Why the fuck did Natalie pick up my phone?</i> you wonder. Now you can't even call or text her to get her attention.<br/>
<br/>
At least you've got the keys to your truck, and you run back to collect it. On the street you follow the quartet very slowly at a very discreet distance. You keep hoping and expecting the girls to peel away, so that you can race up and collect Natalie, but they never do.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually you realize to your horror that they are walking to your house. You park on a far corner and watch with dismay as the girls and the <i>guy who is your freaking double except that he's not wearing your cap</i> turn up the walkway to your house and go inside.<br/>
<br/>
Now how are you going to get to Natalie? You give some thought to parking and sneaking in through the back yard and back door. But that would be dumb, what with the chances of running into your mom, your dad, your brother, or one of those three girls. You'd also get caught, probably, if you climbed the trellis under your bedroom window and tried sneaking in that way. <i>Go find Caleb or Keith, borrow his phone, call Natalie from it?</i><br/>
<br/>
Thats's what you're about to do when the garage door opens and your doppelganger comes out, wheeling your bike. He mounts it and shoots into the street toward you.<br/>
<br/>
You gun the truck and race toward him. He looks up, does a white-faced double-take, and spins out to the side, tumbling from the bike in a heap. You throw the truck into Park and jump out to help him up.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus Christ!" you yell. "What are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"What am <i>I</i> doing, what were <i>you</i> doing?" he retorts. "Where'd you go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just get in the truck!" You grab your bike and throw it into the bed, then jump into the cab after him. "Keep your head down," you growl as you peel out past your house. Not until you're a block away do you let him put his head up.<br/>
<br/>
"Where'd you go?" he squeals like a girl. "There was an earthquake or something and I woke up and you were gone and—"<br/>
<br/>
"I knocked over a bunch of shit and went out to check that no one was coming. Where did <i>you</i> go? Who were those girls?"<br/>
<br/>
"I ran into them inside that old school. I went looking for you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Where's my phone 'n stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Up in your room. Nice bedspread, by the way, you have it since you were five? But I went looking for you and couldn't find you so I went inside and I ran into those girls and they knew who you were so I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who are they? I don't know even who they are!"<br/>
<br/>
"They go to school with your brother, they said. I think they've got a crush on him. Anyway, I was all trying to get away from them, said I had to go home, and they insisted on going with me—"<br/>
<br/>
You can hardly hear the rest of it for the roar in your ears. <i>Girls have a crush on your brother? That little pimple?</i><br/>
<br/>
"—and I was going back to find you. So now what?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The afternoon's events seem a lot funnier once you're back at the basement and have collected your wits. (And after Natalie has changed back into herself. She was conked out after pulled the mask off, and then she had to change clothes again, which gave you about twenty minutes total to calm yourself the fuck down.) But maybe it was all too funny, at least to Natalie, who when she lets you back into the basement marvels at how easy it was for her to fool someone by using your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's get one for you!" she enthuses. "We could use the other mask on your brother, then we could hang out! I could be him! Or I could be you and you could be him! Or you could be someone else!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Someone else?</i> you think. <i>Like Natalie? One of her friends? One of those girls so you could prank Robert?</i><span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1113432222131111
author_id: rugal
title: An Outing of Fakes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're not really keen on the idea of using the mask on your brother. Not that you think the twerp doesn't deserve it but you're not really sure what you'd do with it. Maybe you could convince Natalie to use it to get him in trouble because she seems like she'd be down for something like that, but then what? No, you'd rather not waste the mask but... you pause. Natalie looks at you expectantly. There's a hungry look in her hazel eyes and an impatient smile on her lips.<br/>
<br/>
"What about you?" you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? What <i>about</i> me?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
Well crap. You didn't really mean to say that but you went ahead and did anyway. Oh sure, you can probably brush it off and claim it's nothing but now that you think of it... why? While you've been enjoying hanging out with her, between everything with Gillian and the scares and close calls here at the basement she's put you through quite a bit over the last few days. So why <i>not</i> her?<br/>
<br/>
"I was just thinking what if, uh, we used that second mask on you?" you say with noticeable nervousness.<br/>
<br/>
Natalie blinks. "You mean you copy me in the mask and then..."<br/>
<br/>
"Then, well, I guess I'd use it to turn into you. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
She's quiet for a moment and you're beginning to feel very embarrassed, which is made worse when she suddenly starts to laugh. "Oh my god, you'd want to turn into me!?" she exclaims in between one such fit of laughter. "You really are a weirdo!"<br/>
<br/>
You're definitely uncomfortable and you even begin to feel yourself breaking into a sweat. "I wasn't trying to be weird but it's just..." You want to argue but you're not really sure what to say and quickly feel your will melting away. "No, you're right, it's definitely weird. I shouldn't have said anything."<br/>
<br/>
"No," she replies with surprising firmness once she's stopped laughing. "You suggested it so now... I want you to do it."<br/>
<br/>
"You what?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the matter, Will?" she responds in a teasing sing-song. "Are you afraid of not having a dick? Because I had one and, frankly, I don't see what the big deal is."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's the boobs, isn't it? These things drive guys wild."<br/>
<br/>
"Not like you have any so what'd be the difference!?" you exclaim in frustration.<br/>
<br/>
Natalie seems taken aback for a second but her face contorts and she laughs again. "Oh my fucking god, you big dork baby!" she exclaims. She grabs the bag, reaches in and pulls out the blank mask, bringing it close to her face. "I'm going to do it, Will. Are you gonna wuss out on me?"<br/>
<br/>
You hold her eye for a moment but you finally wilt. "No, I'll do it, seeing as you want me to be you so badly," you respond, trying to reclaim whatever dignity you can salvage out of this. "You should probably go sit down or lay down or something. You saw what happened with me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh Prince William, I am ever so sure you would catch this fair maiden were she to suddenly faint!" she replies in an exaggerated accent.<br/>
<br/>
She playfully pokes you in the chest as she walks past you to take a seat on the ground against a stack of boxes. Then, with little hesitation, she places the mask against her face. Like she'd said, the mask actually sinks into her face. Her head lolls back against the box behind her and you rush over to her. She said it knocked you out so you're more prepared for this than she was but it's still disconcerting to see her eyes wide open and mouth slightly agape as she stares up at nothing. She doesn't respond to her name or to you waving your hands in front of her face and the only indicator she's even alive is that you can see her... chest... rise and fall with each breath.<br/>
<br/>
So you can do nothing but wait until, at some point, the mask reemerges from her face and falls right into her lap. Carefully you retrieve it but it's another ten minutes or so before she begins to stir, during which time you seal the mask. After getting another assurance from her that it's alright, you sit where she had been and place the mask to your own face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're groggy as you come to and are immediately surprised by how drafty it feels... which is what quickly brings you to consciousness because it makes you aware of something shocking: you're naked. With a yelp—in a particularly girlish voice—pale, freckle-covered arms cover pale breasts. You soon realize, too, that your dick is gone and in its place is a nothingness hidden by a dull strawberry blonde bush. Gingerly, you reach down through the hairs when a loud cough startles you.<br/>
<br/>
You do a double take when you see yourself dressed in the clothes you had been wearing all day, not the stuff you'd purchased.<br/>
<br/>
"Much as it'd give me a boner to watch me play with myself, this really isn't the time or place for that," your doppelganger says as he reaches out a hand. You take it and he pulls you up.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I'll be mindful of--wait, what's going on? Why the hell am I naked and why are you--"<br/>
<br/>
"Because we're gonna have some fun," he says as he points to the pile of clothes at your feet. "What would be the point of turning into each other if all we did was sit around in a basement?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Natalie helps you get dressed as you haven't even the faintest idea of how to get a bra on and tells you of her plan: spend the afternoon in these masks and go out somewhere, just to see if you can go on an outing as each other. You're not sure how much you like the idea but you agree to it since you're already in the masks and by this point, you're starting to realize that it might be impossible to actually stop Natalie when she's made up her mind on something.<br/>
<br/>
After gathering up everything and locking the door to the basement behind you, you throw the stuff into your truck and are about to step into the driver's seat when Natalie stops you. She—or maybe it'd be easiest to think of it as "he"—places a hand on your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't drive," he says plainly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know you don't, so I was gonna--"<br/>
<br/>
"Right, <i>I</i>," she points at you and then herself, "don't drive. <i>You</i> do."<br/>
<br/>
That gives you pause. "Natalie, do you even know how to drive?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? I got my license when I was sixteen, duh. I just don't have a car and my parents get pissy about letting me borrow their's."<br/>
<br/>
Again, realizing he's made up his mind, you relent and scramble around to the passenger side. In spite of what he said, you're still surprised that he's able to get around town with no issue as the two of you then head over to Panera to grab something to eat. Inside, you sit and chat as you wait for your orders and nobody seems to give you a second look. Though of course, that's because they likely have no idea who Will Prescott and Natalie Dawkins are.<br/>
<br/>
That changes when you sit back down after getting your food. Someone calls Natalie's name, and after remembering it's supposed to be <i>your</i> name, you look over to see one of the girls from the soccer fields yesterday—the one with the glasses—making her way to your table. "Hey, Nat, you don't mind if I sit with you guys do you?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You look over to your double, but he says nothing so you scoot over for her. But she concentrates on the guy across the table: "You look familiar. You were at the game yesterday, right? I think I interviewed you."<br/>
<br/>
Your double shoots a look your way, then smirks, before turning his attention back to Genevieve. "Yeah, I'm Will, nice to meet you..."<br/>
<br/>
"Genevieve," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Right, I remember it. It's a nice name," he says with confidence. "And I definitely remember <i>you</i>. Eastman, right? I'm a Westside guy, myself."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, yeah, I remember too! Oh, but weren't you with someone else yesterday?" Genevieve turns to you. "You were the one point them out and said I should talk to them."<br/>
<br/>
Your twin jumps in when you flounder. "Because she knew you were looking for Westside students and she knew I attended Westside. So when she saw me, she pointed me out. At least, that's what she told me afterward. Right, Natalie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, yeah," you say.<br/>
<br/>
The three of you eat and chat for the next little bit... well, mostly it's Natalie and Genevieve chatting. You don't know her but Natalie does and so she's able to keep conversation flowing and keep Genevieve's attention. So much so that you're in for a surprise when she gets up, claiming that she has to use the bathroom. Genevieve immediately clasps your arm and grins at you expectantly.<br/>
<br/>
"So are the two of you an item?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, no, not really; we only just met. We're just friends."<br/>
<br/>
"He's really charming and funny, you know. You guys kind of remind me a lot of one another, actually." She giggles and you nearly fall over with what she says next. "He's not bad looking either. If you're not interested, then be a friend and set me up."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yeah, she doesn't look it but Genny's kind of boy crazy," Natalie says once you're back in the truck and you've told her about what happened. "Sorry I didn't tell you about the fact I actually was at the game, either, by the way. I, uh, had my reasons though."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug it off and tell her that's not a big deal. But you do suggest that since night has fallen, you should probably get back to the basement so you can get out of the masks and go back to being yourselves. You're surprised when you hear Natalie let out a small laugh and ask her what's so funny.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I was just thinking... wouldn't it be funny if we <i>didn't</i> take off the masks? I mean, you wanted to be me <i>so</i> badly and all."<br/>
<br/>
Wait... is she suggesting that you both go home as each other? Or is she just teasing you some more?<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11134322221311111
author_id: nostrum777
title: A Sketchy, Revealing Proposal
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Surely, you think, she must be bluffing. But you called her bluff once, and that’s how you ended up where you are now: <i>A guy in girl clothes with a slim, curvy, girly body.</i><br/>
<br/>
So the proposal is tempting. Very tempting. You could get to be alone, in her room, with no one to bother you.<br/>
<br/>
But there's obvious dangers, too. "You know you’ll have to deal with my parents, right?" you remind the guy who looks like you.<br/>
<br/>
"Your dad seems cool," he replies. "Or are you just scared to deal with <i>my</i> parents?"<br/>
<br/>
"And about school? We got that tomorrow. You gonna deal with my friends, my classes? Trust me to deal with yours?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, that's a point." He rubs his chin. "So I'll pick you up in the morning, and we'll switch back before school."<br/>
<br/>
"Deal!" you say before you can change your mind. "Then we can get together after school and, um, work on the next spell."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like a date." His eyes glint with mischief. "But be sure to bring your mask along!"<br/>
<br/>
Her words give you a hard thrill.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
"Hi Dad!" you exclaim with a gasp as you step into Natalie's family's living room, where her father is reading the newspaper. "Hi Mom!" you shout at her mother, who smiles at you from behind the half-wall that separates the kitchen from the rest of the house. You feel yourself freeze all over as they look up. <i>What'll they say,</i> you wonder in a panic, <i>when they spot that I'm not their daughter?</i><br/>
<br/>
On tottering legs you step into the living room, intent on just getting to the safety of Natalie's bedroom. But her father stops you with a word. "Shoes?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
He points to your feet. "Your shoes."<br/>
<br/>
You look down. <i>What about them?</i><br/>
<br/>
Luckily, you catch sight of the shoe rack next to the door, where Natalie made a point earlier of changing into slippers.<br/>
<br/>
"S-sorry, Dad. I forgot."<br/>
<br/>
"Dinner’s ready," Clarisse calls as you're fumbling off Natalie's Converses. "It’s chicken casserole."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit!</i> "Maybe later?" you reply. "I ate out with Will."<br/>
<br/>
Her father raises his eyebrows. "I thought you said you’d be with Gillian."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... yeah. And we ran into Will at Panera, and Genny met us there too, and—"<br/>
<br/>
"But you 'ate with Will Prescott'."<br/>
<br/>
"That’s so sweet," her mother says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was eating with the others too!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who brought you home?" her dad asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... Will."<br/>
<br/>
Her parents exchange a glance, and her father's expression is grave when he turns back to you. "This one works fast too, doesn't he?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Remind him that you come with a speed limit. Twenty-five in a school zone. And also remind him," he adds as he returns to his paper, "that I know his father."<br/>
<br/>
You gulp. "Okay. Um ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?"<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath, because if he reacts like this when you just happen to eat dinner with Will Prescott, what is he going to say when you tell him— "Will's gonna pick me up tomorrow and take me to school."<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Dawkins lowers the paper to give you a long, direct stare. "I thought he went to Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he does, but— Um. He offered to take me in tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
This time her parents don't even look at each other. But after a long pause, when her dad finally says, "Natalie—", her mother jumps in. "We'll talk about it later," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and practically run from the room.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
The walls of her bedroom, you find, when you (gladly!) fall into it, are decorated with posters of assorted anime series, and her bookshelf is filled with neatly arranged rows of comics and trade paperback omnibuses of manga series in strict order. You haven’t read comics for quite some time, and you’ve never found manga interesting, so you check out what she likes.<br/>
<br/>
Her interests run the gamut. Comics are your typical superhero fare—Marvel, DC, some other names you don’t know—and some mystery graphic novels. The trade paperbacks you’re less familiar with, but most are in their original language, with some notebooks that seem to have translation notes in her handwriting.<br/>
<br/>
You've been carrying her purse with you all this time, but you haven't looked in it yet. So you dump its contents out on her bed. Another set of keys, compact, make-up case, two hairbrushes and a comb; another make-up case, two mangas and a Western trade paperback; a stuffed toy that looks like a Pokemon or some shit like that; and the sketchbook you copied the sigils into.<br/>
<br/>
Her phone also falls out. You're tempted to open it up and dig into her social media, but you resist. Instead, you turn to her work desk, hoping that she's finished her homework so you don't have to do it for her.<br/>
<br/>
No luck: she still has algebra and biology to finish. You set gamely to work, but find that you can't imitate her handwriting.<br/>
<br/>
So that's when you give up and pick up her phone. It unlocks with face recognition, so <i>that's</i> easy to defeat, but you can't get into any of her passcode-protected social media. Her contacts and messages, though ...<br/>
<br/>
Natalie doesn’t have a lot of phone numbers in her contacts, but she's got more than you carry in yours. Her Mom and Dad; Gillian; that girl Genevieve; you; a bunch of girls, including the "Lisa Rickover" she mentioned back when you first met her; and some guys. Most of the texts are from Genevieve and a girl named Mandy, but you don't know them so you concentrate on Gillian's texts.<br/>
<br/>
You notice a lot of the recent one are about you, but they don't shed much light on what she thinks of you, so you scroll back to check the older ones. These are very cryptic because they lack context, but you do notice that Natalie uses the sad emoji a lot whenever Braydon's name comes up.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
It's getting late when there's a knock at the door. It's Natalie's mom. Her message is short and delivered with a smile, but there's steel behind it. "Will can pick you up in the morning, since you've already arranged it," she tells you. "But find somebody else to give you a ride home."<br/>
<br/>
"I will."<br/>
<br/>
"And Westside's on the other side of town. Don't encourage him to give you any more rides to and from school."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay."<br/>
<br/>
Her smile widens, and she kisses you on the forehead. Then, as turns, she says, "Don't use up all the hot water in your shower tonight."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shower?</i> you think in a panic. <i>Would Natalie want me </i>taking a shower<i> while I'm looking like her?</i><br/>
<br/>
But her mom seems to expect you to, so ...<br/>
<br/>
Natalie is no Cindy Vredenburg or Chelsea Cooper, but it arouses you to touch her supple freckled skin as the warm water trickles over your body. Her boobs are small, yes, but you can still get a good grip with your small hands, and they’re soft and firm, like two giant marshmallows made of memory foam. Your fingers slip once again into her bushy undersides, and you feel a hotness rushing to your head.<br/>
<br/>
You turn off the shower and after wrapping yourself in a towel you dash into your room.<br/>
You toss the towel away after drying yourself off, and peep into her vanity mirror while searching for her sleepwear. You never imagined you’d like freckles so much.<br/>
<br/>
After changing into PJs, which you haven’t used since you were a kid and don’t particularly like, you get into bed. You're too wakeful for sleep, though, so you grab her sketchbook and flip through it. It's almost used up—the sigils you copied are only a few pages from the back—and the rest isn't taken up so much with sketches as with loosely drawn comic strips. The contents are pretty mundane—school girls and boys hanging out and talking—but most of the names in the speech and thought balloons match the names in her contact list. And eventually you recognize two of the faces that appear over and over: Gillian and Braydon.<br/>
<br/>
They are both drawn in a cartoony style, but you're struck by how unattractively Braydon is sketched, with a scheming leer perpetually on his face, and wearing black robes and a headpiece wrought of twisted iron. He's also often drawn like he's casting charms over Gillian, even in the middle of mundane conversations, and Gillian is quite often drawn with spirals for eyes and sparkling stars around her head, as though she's been bewitched. Maybe even mind-controlled, for in a couple of panels she repeats the word Braydon whispers in her ear to the girl who is Natalie's avatar.<br/>
<br/>
But the real rush comes when you flip a page and find a cluster of stand-alone sketches of a new guy. With his sloppy ball cap and stiff blonde hair, his lanky build and his oversize shirt and cargo shorts, there's no mistaking who it's supposed to be. Little notes dot the page around the sketches: "Spontaneous." "Mysterious." "Level-headed." "Caring." Is it your own reaction, or the glands of the body you are wearing, that they make you want to swoon?<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
The clock on your truck dashboard reads eight-something when you groggily wake. You rub your eyes and look around. You are in the Eastman High School parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
Natalie was running late when she picked you up, and she asked you to drive while she pulled off the mask she was wearing. She was still conked out when you arrived at Eastman and parked in a far corner, and you had to wake her so she could change into the extra clothes you'd brought her. When she was done with that, you then undressed, laid out flat in your truck, and let her pull the mask from your face.<br/>
<br/>
But now you're awake and back in your own skin. You just have to get dressed and back to Westside by—<br/>
<br/>
You do a double-take at the clock. It reads 8:25—thirty minutes after you laid down to remove the mask! Classes have already started, and it will take you half hour to get across town!<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11134322221311112
author_id: seuzz
title: Bands of Silver
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You must not have heard right. Did Natalie just suggest that you <i>not</i> take off these masks you're wearing—masks that turned you into each other—before going home? "Wait, what?" you say.<br/>
<br/>
"You heard me." The guy with your face grins at you, looking like a demented rodent. "I go home as <i>you,</i> and you go home as <i>me!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh my God! She must be nuts!</i> Or she's just teasing.<br/>
<br/>
"That wouldn't work," you flatly declare.<br/>
<br/>
The smile falls off your twin's face. "Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because how am I supposed to fool your parents?"<br/>
<br/>
"By looking like me!"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know them! I don't know <i>you!</i> How am I supposed to act—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just bluff them, Will! What are they gonna think, that you're a fake?"<br/>
<br/>
"I could accidentally get you in trouble! What if I say or do something that gets you in a bunch of trouble?"<br/>
<br/>
"You won't."<br/>
<br/>
"What if you get <i>me</i> in trouble?"<br/>
<br/>
He starts to protest. Then he stops and looks very puckish. "Could I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course you could! You could—"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, do you give me permission?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? <i>No!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Spoilsport. Okay," he sighs. "It was just an idea—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>And a really hare-brained one,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
But she relents, and drives you both back to the elementary school. The lights are burning in the community center, so you walk the long way around the front to reach the basement. You go down first to change while Natalie keeps watch outside, then she changes while you keep watch. You take advantage of the moment, while she's unconscious, to take the book and hide it in your truck. It's not that you don't trust Natalie, exactly. But it seems the most ... cautious ... thing to do after that squirrelly suggestion she made.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The day at school is extremely normal and boring. It's almost as if the events of the weekend had never happened. Caleb never references Gillian or Braydon's hunt for you (and you don't bring it up!) and Delp himself is missing from the fourth period class you share. Your closest brush with the weekend's events comes when you pass Gillian in the hallway, and she turns to yell at you: "Did you have fun with Natalie this weekend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... Yeah!"<br/>
<br/>
"She's a fun one alright! Just keep your hands inside the moving car at all times!"<br/>
<br/>
Then she's swept away by the crowd before you react further.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I got in trouble last night because of you," Natalie says in a sing-song when you pick her up at the other high school. The buses are long gone but the teachers' lot out front is still full, even though it took you half an hour to get from Westside.<br/>
<br/>
"How'd I get you in trouble?" you ask as you turn toward the mall.<br/>
<br/>
"You weren't supposed to bring me home last night."<br/>
<br/>
"What was I supposed to do, leave you in Acheson?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told my dad I was going to be with Gillian yesterday, so when I said that <i>you</i> brought me home—"<br/>
<br/>
"Does he have a problem with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"He thinks you're a bad influence."<br/>
<br/>
You boggle. He doesn't even know you, and if he did know what you and Natalie have been getting up to, he'd have to admit that if anything <i>she's</i> been a bad influence on <i>you.</i> "How does he figure that?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a sly look. "Don't you <i>want</i> to be a bad influence? Don't you <i>want</i> to be the bad boy?"<br/>
<br/>
"I—! Um—!"<br/>
<br/>
She giggles. "You don't have to be, Will. But it's more fun if I tell him you are."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, but what if he complains about me to my dad?</i> you glumly wonder.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've got the book in the truck for reference, so it doesn't take you long to gather up the supplies for the next spell, and Natalie pays for them. She teases you a little about that, telling you that means that <i>she</i> gets to be in charge of whatever you do with them, and even though she says <i>I was just kidding! Jeez!</i> when you protest, it doesn't sound like she's going to back down.<br/>
<br/>
The spell doesn't call for as many ingredients as the first two, but the process of putting them together is a little more involved. It doesn't call for any mixing or firing, though, so you park your truck on one of the streets bordering the community center (but out of sight of the center itself) and work on it in your truck bed. You start by copying the sigil into Natalie's notebook, which takes an hour or so as you sun yourselves and chat amiably about this and that. Then you do the honors as Natalie watches and kibbitzes from the side: cutting strips of copper and zinc, sandwiching a bead of mercury between them, and then sandwiching this composite between two pocket mirrors, turned reflective sides toward each other. This you carefully lay onto the copy of the sigil, and with a steel-nib pen (the most expensive of your purchases, but one that Natalie says she'll get some use out of) you scratch a set of runes (given by the book) into the back of the top mirror. The stack hisses malevolently as you copy the runes, which gives you a sweat, but there is no fire, and the sounds cease abruptly once you've made the last stroke. You and Natalie give each other a wide-eyed stare when the runes you'd made vanish as though they'd never been.<br/>
<br/>
Carefully you separate the mirrors, and a single strip of metal, about an inch wide and five inches long, falls out. It is silvery but with an oily shine. It is very thin and flexible, more like paper than metal, but with more heft. It bends to fit comfortably in the cupped palm of your hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's make another one," Natalie says, and this time you let her do it. The process and results are the same.<br/>
<br/>
You're not done yet, though. The book gives another set of runes that have to be inscribed onto the strips. You and Natalie each take a steel-nibbed pen from the pack you bought and set to work.<br/>
<br/>
It's a lot harder and takes a lot longer than you would have thought, and you both wonder aloud if you performed the spell correctly because of the troubles you have. The surface of the metal bands doesn't want to give under the pressure of the nibs, so that you have to push extremely hard into them to even make a mark, and the runes fade away almost as soon as you make them. Even after you've scratched one in, it will become fainter and fainter as you work on the next, so that you're constantly having to backtrack to re-carve lines that you thought you were finished with.<br/>
<br/>
The whole thing takes something like three hours, and you're both exhausted and a little out of sorts when it finally looks like you've made a semi-permanent set of runes in each metal band. You have to adjourn to McDonalds for supper (after each of you texted home to say you were out "studying" with a friend) and finish in a back table there, hiding your work behind your backpacks from passing eyes.<br/>
<br/>
When you're done, you take your things back out to the truck, and with a heart sick with fear that you've done it wrong, you lay one of the strips across the sigil. But to your joy, when you lift it, the page beneath flutters. <br/>
<br/>
Eagerly you turn it. There is only a single line of Latin text there: <i>Noscĕre mente alius.</i><br/>
<br/>
You and Natalie are both silent as you fumble out your cell phone to make a translation. "To know the mind of another," it says.<br/>
<br/>
You blink at it, then lift your eyes to meet Natalie's. There seems little doubt what it means.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh, come on, Will!" Natalie pleads. "Think how much fun we could have!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah,</i> you think with a gulp. <i>Fun.</i><br/>
<br/>
You took the stuff back to the elementary school, and this time you went down into the dark basement (it was after nine when you got there; the sun has long set) because for this part you wanted privacy. The book didn't specify how to apply the object, but if it was going to copy your brain—<br/>
<br/>
Like the mask copied your body.<br/>
<br/>
—it seemed best to put it to your foreheads. You insisted on trying it first, and you laid yourself out on a table top before laying the warm metal strip onto your brow. You weren't surprised to feel yourself waking with a snort, or to learn from Natalie that the thing disappeared into your forehead, and didn't reappear for another ten minutes.<br/>
<br/>
The really freaky thing was discovering that the runes have vanished, replaced by a blue, glowing Roman script that seems to float above the surface of the metal. It gave you a bad turn to see it spell out your name in full—WILLIAM MARTIN PRESCOTT—like it knows who you are.<br/>
<br/>
Then Natalie squealed "My turn!" and quickly stretched out and put her band onto her head. Like a shallow slick of water evaporating in a scorching hot skillet, the metal strip seemed to vanish there. She was out cold for ten minutes, during which you had ample time to anticipate what she would propose on awaking.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's go home as each other! I'll wear your mask and you'll wear mine, and I'll wear your brain thingie and you'll wear mine! <i>And then we'll be able to fool our parents perfectly!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Well maybe it would work like that and maybe it wouldn't. And even if it did—even if it did copy everything in your brain, everything you've ever thought or dreamed or wished or fantasized about—would you really want Natalie seeing it?<br/>
<br/>
Because some of it is pretty yucky, even you think!<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111343222213111121
author_id: nostrum777
title: To Know the Mind of Natalie
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Why does Natalie want to try this so much...?</i> It's a spooky thing, getting into each other's heads.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, if you <i>do</i> get into her mind ... Then you'd know why she wants to try this stuff out so much!<br/>
<br/>
Yes, she'd get inside yours, too, into your deepest and darkest secrets. So it's a kind of mutually assured destruction, which you suppose makes it fair.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
You are cold all over when you pry your eyes open and sit up, and you are surrounded by darkness. There is a smell of old wood and cold grease, and you are sitting on concrete. It is all very startling but for some reason not alarming. <i>I know where I am,</i> you assure yourself. <i>I just have to put my finger on it.</i><br/>
<br/>
You put out a hand instead. It touches a table and brushes over your phone. You pull it to yourself and click it on.<br/>
<br/>
A text from Lisa is the first thing to pop up: <i>wats up w u n teh ws kid? u collectin karters?<br/>
<br/>
Kid?</i> you think. <i>Why would Lisa call Will a kid?</i><br/>
<br/>
Then vertigo overwhelms you. <i>Of course Lisa thought I was just a kid! That's why she dumped me!</i><br/>
<br/>
You clench your eyes shut, for that doesn't make any sense either. Lisa's not talking about anyone who got dumped, unless she's hinting that Adam Karter dumped you. Why else would she compare Karter to Will? Okay, there's a kind of physical resemblance—both skinny guys with a shock of blonde hair and a mouth full of teeth when they grin—but Will isn't anything like Adam. Well, the physical resemblance is probably enough for Lisa Rickover, who is superficial that way, and as for Lisa Yarborough, Will told you that <i>he</i> was the one who broke up with her, except it was really the other way around which is how come you've been walking around with something like the broken-off tip of an arrow lodged in your heart ...<br/>
<br/>
There's a rustle from somewhere else in the basement—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes! The basement under the old elementary school, that's where you are!</i><br/>
<br/>
—and a groan. You shine the phone around, and by it's very dim glow you pick out the naked form of a skinny guy lying atop a nearby work table. He raises his head and peers at you. He has the face of Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
And like two fuzzy, flat photographs snapping together to make a crisp 3-D image, you suddenly remember who you are and what's going on.<br/>
<br/>
You make no attempt to hide your own nakedness, even though you've got boobs flopping out.<br/>
<br/>
"So you put your mask on me while I was still knocked out," you tell Natalie Dawkins, which is the boy's real name.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he grunts. "I got tired of waiting for you to wake up, so I thought, let's do it all at once, masks and—" He draws a forefinger across his forehead. "Then I did the same with me." He sits up, stiffly. "Izz'at my phone?"<br/>
<br/>
"My phone now. I was just about to tell Lisa she's full of— Oo!" You dimple at the boy, who has alertly lifted his chin by the fraction of an inch. "Which Lisa do you think I was talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"How many Lisas do I know?" He frowns deeply. But after a moment he says, "Oh. I see what you mean." Then the side of his mouth goes up in a grin. "Want me to talk to Caleb again, see if I can push him into finding out how come—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Which Caleb? Johansson or Ryerson?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck! I don't know no Caleb Ryerson," he jeers. "Just my best bud back at—"<br/>
<br/>
Then, to your mild alarm, he scrambles off the table and catches you up in his arms to hold you close. His ... thing ... traces a line up your thigh as it rises.<br/>
<br/>
You push him back. "Stop that! I wouldn't <i>do</i> that to you!"<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't? I think I know what you'd do!"<br/>
<br/>
"I think you <i>don't!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You stare at each other, breathing hard. You're very aware of the fact that he's taller than you.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe not," he allows. "But it'd be interesting! We could fool around a little—"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you forgetting you've got a curfew?"<br/>
<br/>
He blinks, then rolls his head around on his neck. "Hang on, stuff's still coming. Oh yeah. Huh. That sucks."<br/>
<br/>
"Then we better get dressed." You look around for your clothes. "Where do you want to meet tomorrow, to switch back?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can pick you up from Eastman, like you—<i>I</i>—did today," he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
"Before school. And you can't pick me up at my house, your dad—"<br/>
<br/>
"Your dad!" he corrects you, and waggles his eyebrows at you. "And I think <i>your</i> dad maybe has the right idea about Will Prescott!"<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
"Hi Dad," you call as you switch out your shoes in the foyer.<br/>
<br/>
"Who brought you home?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"An Uber! And Kelly's picking me up tomorrow! You don't have to worry about <i>Will Prescott</i> molesting me!"<br/>
<br/>
He flinches a little at the directness of your retort, but consents to let you kiss him on the forehead. Then you breeze into the kitchen long enough to tell your mom that you're stuffed and will be in your room.<br/>
<br/>
It is (as you knew it would be) hung with posters of assorted anime series, and the bookshelves groan with neatly arranged rows of comics and trade paperback omnibuses of manga series in strict order. But one is lying on her desk—a <i>manhwa</i> that Natalie is translating as practice for her Introduction to Korean class.<br/>
<br/>
As usual, she has left Algebra for the last minute, so you settle in to polish that off. You still remember how to do the math, of course, but it's fresher in her mind, and you get the exercises done in a jiffy. You're pleased to note that you are imitating her handwriting exactly.<br/>
<br/>
Afterward, as you are gazing distractedly at her bookcase—and marveling to yourself that <i>I really am Natalie Dawkins and am doing this!</i>—your eye falls upon one title, and you leap out to pull it down for quick glance over. <i>Pretty Face</i> is about a good-natured delinquent—Rando—whose face is repaired after an accident into the exact copy of a girl, Rina, that he likes. Though you’re no Rando—not "violent", as his name suggests, nor as random as she is—you can't help smiling at the similarity of his situation and yours.<br/>
<br/>
You take a quick shower before bed. You’ve been so absorbed trying to act like Natalie that it’s only as the hot water touches you that you again become conscious of her body. Natalie’s no bombshell—certainly no Cindy Vredenburg or Becky Torres—but she’s still rather cute. Supple skin, firm mochi boobs, slim... You feel a hot rush overcoming you as you rub soap all over yourself, and you rinse it off, barely patting off with a towel. Back in the bedroom, you drop the towel to admire yourself in the vanity mirror. You never realized you like freckles so much, and that only makes your innards itch and throb.<br/>
<br/>
You're still wakeful, so you pull out the sketchbook that Natalie uses both to practice her skills and record her life visually. ("My Life as a Manga," maybe.) It records, for instance, the end of her brief stint with the roguishly handsome Adam Karter by showing him leaping at another girl with the same words he had used on her. Round-table gossip-sessions at school with Alyssa Randal and the rest of the "Rumormati" are summarized visually as well, with word and thought balloons showing the ironic contrast between what is said and what (Natalie suspects) is really being thought.<br/>
<br/>
This is all familiar to you, but you are still given pause when you flip to a page dramatizing Gillian and Braydon. Natalie has drawn him as a malevolent warlock seducing and hypnotizing the innocent Gillian, for that is exactly how she sees them. She and Gillian were almost inseparable until the start of summer, when—<br/>
<br/>
You feel your eyes screw up with anger.<br/>
<br/>
Well, there's no other way to describe Natalie's feelings. <i>When Braydon stole Natalie's best friend away, using whatever "dark arts" he's gotten hidden behind his trashy personality.</i> It really does seem like he's cast a spell over her, because why can't she see what a shallow, garbage-y human being he is?<br/>
<br/>
And this is when you finally do feel real embarrassment and a little mortification at being so ... intimate ... with Natalie. You quickly flip through the sketchbook, trying to dodge the recognition that Natalie was pushing you at Gillian because she thought maybe you might come between Gillian and her "hubby."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, I don't blame her,</i> you tell yourself, and you're pretty sure you don't.<br/>
<br/>
You stop flipping near the end the sketchbook, when you trip over the sketches that she made of <i>you.</i> You were so distracted that they almost come as a real surprise.<br/>
<br/>
She has drawn you from multiple angles and in multiple poses in a very flattering way, balancing yourself on stilt-like legs like a young deer, with a bashful grin under a shock of hair. She has also imagined you in more flattering clothes. Around the sketches she has written some character notes—"mysterious, spontaneous, level-headed, caring,"—including the note she added last night: "should be wilder." Well, you hope tonight's adventure counts toward that!<br/>
<br/>
And if she really wants you to get wilder ...<br/>
<br/>
Before crawling into bed, you pull out the little box she's hidden under her bed, the one containing the silicone dildo Mandy gave her as a prank.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
The next morning, Kelly Trask texts to tell you she's running late. Which is very bad, because you need for her to get you to Eastman in time for you to meet Natalie so you can switch back. But now, given Kelley's ETA, there's no way you'll be able to switch back and get to Westside in time for your first-period class.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1113432222131111212
author_id: rugal
title: Naturally Natalie
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You debate for a second if you should go with the idea anyway but you quickly realize that it's completely unfeasible. Given Kelly's new ETA, even if you and Natalie switched out inside your truck in the Eastman parking lot instead of taking Natalie someplace more private, then taking her back to Eastman, you would miss Mr. Walberg's first-period class. The old grump would have your ass if he finds out you skipped. He'd probably write you up or even give you detention which then likely means a grounding from your dad.<br/>
<br/>
So you send a text to Natalie. <i>kelly guna be late getting me. prolly no time to switch. can u cover for me today?</i><br/>
<br/>
She's quick in responding. <i>u want me to cover for u? srsly??? u have to cover for me 2 then.</i><br/>
<br/>
You realize that doing this is a gamble, especially betting on Natalie not to get into trouble, but you hope that a day isn't enough time for her to potentially do any damage.<br/>
<br/>
<i>i can do it np. i can think liek u. u good 2 cover for me?<br/>
<br/>
i think so. shouldnt be an issue,</i> she replies.<br/>
<br/>
You send back a confirmation saying that's what you'll do, then, and tell her to pick you up at Eastman after school, so you can head over to the community center.<br/>
<br/>
With that done, it's time to get ready. Natalie's instincts are fairly basic: just brush and comb your hair, throw on a t-shirt and jeans and you're good to go. But you chuck those instincts and dig around until you find some items that catch your eye.<br/>
<br/>
A denim jacket to go with a pair of (fashionably) distressed jeans, a dark button-up crop top and a choker to complete the ensemble. Inside you actually take the time to apply makeup which is something that Natalie typically abstains from beyond some light application. You're almost stunned by the girl who looks back at you. In this outfit, with this makeup, there's an almost pretty maturity that's far different from the chaotic cuteness you've been seeing the last week.<br/>
<br/>
It's different enough that when Kelly does arrive, there's some chattering when you hop into the backseat.<br/>
<br/>
"You're lookin' nice today, Nat," says Liam Mahon from the passenger's seat in that delicious brogue.<br/>
<br/>
That earns a grunt from Kelly though it's directed at him, not you. Liam is an Irish exchange student whose boyishly handsome looks, especially his deep set but soft green eyes, make him very popular among the girls. He's staying with Kelly's family and while they insist that they're simply friends and housemates, it's well known that they are one hundred percent an item and their denials are done mostly to try and shake off the jealousies of other girls.<br/>
<br/>
"Well with the extra time I just thought... what the hey, right?" you state. "I don't really get the chance to dress up."<br/>
<br/>
"So it's not because of that boy?" Kelly asks.<br/>
<br/>
You laugh it off but a thought does occur to you: <i>I am so gonna strangle Genny.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The first half of the day at school passes without any real incident. You share first period with Mandy Simpson, one of the other girls from Alyssa's group. She's blonde with pretty looks and a bubbly, airheaded personality. But of anyone in the group, she's the most fashionable and the one who's quickest to get attention from boys. In fact, she's the one who picked out the ensemble you're wearing today (as well as really taught Natalie the finer points of makeup) and she brightens when she sees you walk into the classroom wearing it.<br/>
<br/>
Of Alyssa's group, Mandy is probably the one that Natalie gets along with best.<br/>
<br/>
The only other notable thing about the class is that Natalie shares it with Eastman's resident himbo who draws laughs when he questions, with all seriousness, why "X" is even part of an equation because it's a letter, not a number, and this is a math class, not an English class.<br/>
<br/>
Intro to Korean (a class not offered at Westside, you note) is next. You take notice of the fact that your teacher is an Asian woman named Mrs. Saito and you wonder what, if any, relation she might have to Yumi. An aunt, perhaps? Or maybe her mother? Natalie will undoubtedly meet Yumi while at school so maybe you can ask her. After second, it's a creative writing class and then it's lunch which you share with the rest of the high school NSA.<br/>
<br/>
The first thing you note as you begin to eat and talk is just how different Alyssa Randall is from Chelsea Cooper. Really, it's like night and day, but reversed because Chelsea is blonde and very white while Alyssa is African-American. Oh, they're both head cheerleaders and they're both gorgeous but the similarities end there. For a start, Alyssa is much nicer. She dominates to be sure, but it's in a soft and persuasive way, not the aggressively domineering way that Yumi and the others complain about. She also comes across as patient and, frankly, much smarter. You know that she takes a few AP classes and is also on the debate team. Could you imagine Chelsea on a debate team?<br/>
<br/>
"You know, that's a really nice look you've got there, Natalie," points Lisa Rickover as conversation shifts from news to general topics. "Any special reason?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just—"<br/>
<br/>
"Ooh! I was totally wondering about that too?" Mandy jumps in. "Like, it looks super good on you but you never dress up! I should've asked you this morning!"<br/>
<br/>
"It wouldn't have anything to do with that boy you were with this weekend, would it?" asks Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Crow-faced bitch,</i> you think to yourself. Lisa is a snarky, sneaky weasel to her core who's at best tolerated by everyone else. As best as the others can guess, Alyssa keeps her around on the grounds of it being better to "keep your enemies close".<br/>
<br/>
"You were with a boy?" asks Maddy Caron, a serious-minded and naturally skeptical AP girl. Her demeanor is almost always very even in a way that can be both calming and intimidating.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah, but—"<br/>
<br/>
Tina Branson, an extrovert par excellence, giggles. "Can ya believe it? Our li'l girl's finally goin' an' growin' up on us," she muses in her distinctive country twang. "So who's the lucky guy?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself turn hot and in desperation you turn to Summer Nguyen for assistance. But as usual, she looks as lost as you do and keeps mum. You wonder, at times, why Alyssa brought her in and why she's so protective of Summer. Probably because she has a thing going on with punk rock lesbian Chris Yves.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a Westside boy," Mandy chimes in. Because of course Natalie had told her. You know she doesn't mean it in the catty way that Lisa does but you still feel betrayed.<br/>
<br/>
"A Westside boy, huh?" Tina muses. "Wonder if anyone I know from over there knows 'im."<br/>
<br/>
"Probably not, can we just stop?" you pout. You feel like you're being talked down, like you're being treated like the "baby sister" of the group, like they think you're immature. It's the kind of treatment that can rankle Natalie hard it seems."He's not my boyfriend or anything and he's got nothing to do with anything. He's just a friend I met through Gilly, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right," Alyssa says as she steers the conversation away. "So anyway..."<br/>
<br/>
But mentioning Gillian's name turns out to be a bad idea as you find yourself quietly seething even more. <i>Fucking Lisa,</i> you think to yourself. <i>Fucking Braydon.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The rest of the day goes by fairly monotonously except for seventh period, a dance class. Natalie herself is, as you find out, an excellent dancer. In fact, through some mental digging, you learn that she took ballet from the time she was six up through her sophomore year, only stopping due to an ankle injury that, while not bothering her now, was bad enough to make dancing more seriously completely undoable.<br/>
<br/>
She started focusing more seriously on her art after that. As a guy, <i>you're</i> focusing more on the other girls in class as they move, gyrate, twist and wind themselves.<br/>
<br/>
When school lets out—and your threat to wring Genevieve's neck turns out to be empty—you wait around and even turn down ride offers from both Kelly and Mandy saying you've got one. Mandy, in fact, is there as Will's truck comes rumbling up to the front of the school and he opens the door. You have to reiterate to the wide-eyed and hungry looking girl that he is not, <i>not</i>, your boyfriend as you get in.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking Genny!" you exclaim as you throw your feet up onto the dash. "All day long, I had to deal with people asking me if I really got a boyfriend and just... ugh! It was so freakin' annoying!"<br/>
<br/>
"You settled into being me pretty well," Will says with amusement.<br/>
<br/>
"What about you?" you ask as you glance at him from the corner of your eye.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it wasn't so bad once I got my bearings. Except for the dickheads. They roam free like wild animals at your school," he replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Mhm," you respond in turn. "I have to admit, the vibe at Eastman was a lot less stressful. I guess who you have at the top of the pyramid really affects things."<br/>
<br/>
"So you like being me?" asks Will.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't hate it," you shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna stick it out as me for another day or two?"<br/>
<br/>
You look at him now, in wide-eyed shock. "Stick it out as... what!?" you ask. "Why!?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know what happened between you and Lisa. The real version," he says with uncharacteristic seriousness. "With some masks and a little time, I could bust up her and that Mansfield guy for you. I figure I owe it to you after all the shit from this weekend."<br/>
<br/>
Your blown away by her offer but you know, too, how bitter she is over this whole Gillian and Braydon thing. Maybe instead, you could offer to help her out with what she wants. Or maybe both ideas are going too far.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11134322221311112122
author_id: seuzz
title: Stuck on Each Other
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're gobsmacked by Natalie's offer, but at the same time it leaves you feeling rather cold. You were hurt by the way Lisa dumped you for Geoff Mansfield, and it still stings, but now it feels more like a blow to your ego than to your heart. If you did bust them apart, what would it get you? If given the chance, would you really want to get back together with Lisa? Particularly as you'd much rather spend your time with Natalie? You'd have only one reason to accept Natalie's offer: to get revenge on them.<br/>
<br/>
But busting up Gillian and Braydon would (or should) lead to something much more positive: a renewal of the friendship between Gillian and Natalie. And Gillian really does need to be freed from Braydon's influence.<br/>
<br/>
So ...<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa! Oka, that's a really, um, generous offer," you tell Will, "but I've got a better idea." You slip your arm through his. "How about we <i>both</i> get to work on getting Gilly out from under Braydon's spell?"<br/>
<br/>
Will jumps and yelps. <br/>
<br/>
"I know you don't like Braydon," you continue, and you snuggle up closer to him. "And I also know you were, um, trying to push me at Gilly, to get me in between them—"<br/>
<br/>
"No!" Will squeals. "I wasn't, swear to—!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to <i>pretend,</i> Natalie. I <i>know</i> what you were thinking, and it's alright." You giggle. "I'd do the same thing if I was you. <i>Trust me.</i>" You giggle again and glance up into Will's face. It's burning red.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You talk about it on the way back to the community center, and you also talk about your days at school and at home the night before. The upshot is that, even after you are back in the basement, you decide to stay in each other's masks. Neither of you is having much trouble fooling the other's friends and family, and it would also make it easier to tackle Braydon and Gillian. From inside Natalie's mask, you know how to talk to Gillian and maybe undermine him subtly from that side. But Natalie would have a double advantage if operating from under your mask, for she could use her own familiarity with Gillian to make "you" more attractive to her.<br/>
<br/>
The only thing that bothers you (as your talk continues while translating the next spell in the book) is what happens if Natalie actually succeeds in prying Gillian away from Braydon. "What if this works?" you ask Will. "What if Gilly actually decides she'd rather go out with, um, <i>you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
But Natalie's having none of it: "We'll worry about it then," he briskly tells you.<br/>
<br/>
The fourth spell in the book turns out to be nearly the easiest so far, and uses ingredients you already have at hand. You do have to set some stuff on fire over a sigil, and almost you are tempted to just use the sigil in the book (you've had no accidents so far) but do take the time to copy it into Natalie's sketchbook as well. Natalie herself wants to do the honors this time, but you snatch the sketchbook away with the lofty observation that "It's my sketchbook!" before dissolving into titters. And copying the sigil is the longest part of the process.<br/>
<br/>
The result when you're finished is a bowl filled with a grayish, slimy slurry. It won't stick to anything—the bowl or your finger or the surface of the table when you spill a little onto it—so again you're fearful that you've messed something up, because it's supposed to be a paste, used to glue one of the metal strips into a mask. There's nothing to do but test it, so Natalie stretches out on a table, and you grasp her forehead in one hand, mutter the prescribed incantation thrice, and pull. There's a little jolt, and a mask comes away in your hand. When you look down, Natalie has her own face again, though she's still wearing your clothes.<br/>
<br/>
She asleep, and she doesn't wake when you use the same trick to pull the metal band from her forehead. And she is still asleep when you finish applying the glue to the band and have set it into the mask, where it sticks firmly. Now, when you lift the mask to examine it, not only does it have a ghostly impression of your face floating inside its outer surface, it has your name floating in ghostly blue letters above the inner surface. Without waiting for her to wake, you drop the mask back onto her face. It vanishes into her, like a splash of water vanishing into parched sand, and she's got your face again.<br/>
<br/>
You're bent over the book, studying the next spell with some disquiet, when you hear a grunt from the table, and look over to see Will sitting up with a grimace. He squints at you. "Everything go okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Went fine. Stuff stuck to the mask and thing like, well, glue. Can you tell any difference?"<br/>
<br/>
He blinks a couple of times, and sucks on a tooth. "No," he finally admits. "I couldn't even tell you'd done anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's good." You turn back to the book. "You know, it's going to be more convenient this way, putting these things on and taking the off. Having to do it only once instead twice."<br/>
<br/>
"And I guess if we copy someone— Well, you'd only have to put it on them once instead of twice, if you've got the thing already glued into the mask."<br/>
<br/>
You look up. "Who would we be copying? We've already copied each other."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh," he stammers. "I was just talking generally. What's that say?" He points to the page you uncovered.<br/>
<br/>
"The next spell. It's going to be a tricky one. The ingredients ..."<br/>
<br/>
"We gonna need to buy some new stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Some of it sounds kind of dangerous. Also—" You can't help lowering your voice. "It's starting to get a little creepy." You point to one of the listed items. "We'd need some dirt from a graveyard!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Will looks over the list and concurs with your translation, but he seems distracted, and suggests ending the session early. "We're not going to get any work done on this tonight," he points out. "And if we're gonna have to go out to a graveyard, let's save it for the weekend." He grins satirically at you. "Make it a real date!"<br/>
<br/>
Instead of driving you home, he drops you off at the Starbucks on Orlando Street so that you can get a ride from there. That way you won't get in trouble with her dad for being out with "Will Prescott." You told her you'd get an Uber, but instead you text Alyssa Randal, as you've been ignoring the texts she's been group-sending, asking for advice about crow-barring one of the new-to-town and very handsy basketball players off one of her cheerleaders. As you wait, you buy a coffee, noting that one of the baristas is someone that you—yourself—knew at school last year, when he was a senior. But Natalie doesn't know Justin Carr, so you ignore him.<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa is happy to pick you up, though she is a little querulous, and wants to know why you need to be picked up and why you were ignoring her texts. You tell her you were hanging out with a guy that your dad doesn't want you seeing.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not back with Karter!" she exclaims. "No, wait." She snaps her fingers. "It's that Westside guy, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. And he's nothing like Adam!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, thank God for small favors. How serious are you about him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Because if it's serious enough you're hiding it from your dad—"<br/>
<br/>
"My dad's just got the wrong idea about him!"<br/>
<br/>
"And what idea is that? What'd you say?" she asks when you mumble the reply.<br/>
<br/>
"I said, I think he thinks Will's another Adam Karter."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmph. I think I wanna meet this guy. Is it serious enough I need to meet him?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't <i>need</i> to do <i>anything,</i> Alyssa!"<br/>
<br/>
She turns to give you such a long stare that you feel obliged to put a hand on the wheel so she won't steer up onto a sidewalk.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, at least," she says, "tell me how you met him, and a little bit about him, so that I <i>don't</i> start thinking he's Adam Karter two-point-oh."<br/>
<br/>
So you tell her how you bumped into him at King Kong Komics one day, and wound up hanging out with him a little with Gillian, and how it's just kind of grown from there.<br/>
<br/>
As for what he's like ... Well, it embarrasses you to try to describe Natalie's impression of you. And do you want to put words in her mouth, even though at the moment <i>you are talking with her mouth?</i> You might accidentally go too far and give Alyssa too strong an impression, if she hasn't got too strong an impression already.<br/>
<br/>
So you straddle by pulling the sketchbook from your purse, and showing her the sketches and notes that Natalie made with her own hand. Alyssa studies them while stopped at a light. She says nothing, except to point to where Natalie wrote "should be wilder." "You just be careful what you wish for," Alyssa primly cautions you. "Remember Karter."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The evening at home is commonplace and boring, and so is the next day at school. You're loitering outside Eastman, waiting for Will to pick you up, when you get a text from him: <i>Omg u wont belfef it</i> This gnomic text is quickly followed by a phone call.<br/>
<br/>
"I got a copy of Braydon inside a mask!" he tells you in a voice strangled with excitement. "You know what this means?" he continues when you answer him with a shocked silence. "We can pretend to be him! Use it against him! Pretend to be him with Gillian and <i>screw him up with her!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
In a flash, even through your shock, you see the possibilities. But you also, immediately, intuit the dangers of going too far. Someone will have to wear that mask, if you're going to use it, and you're not sure you'd trust Natalie inside it. In fact, maybe you shouldn't use it at all.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111343222213111121221
author_id: nostrum777
title: The Gentleman and the Warlock
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You’re still unsure how Natalie acted so fast. Oh, you know what drove her—being right there, close to Gillian, close to <i>Braydon,</i> unseen and unknown. And maybe it doesn't matter, maybe it was just luck in getting Braydon alone and popping a mask onto him.<br/>
<br/>
Yet, you’re bothered by her recklessness. You have a magic book that can create things that copy people so you can ... wear ... them. And things that copy their minds. And ... whatever that next spell does. It’s creepy.<br/>
<br/>
But then again, occultism is creepy. And Braydon Delp <i>thrives</i> on that. What if some of the stuff he's into also works, the way the stuff you found works? You don't like the idea of Natalie being close to him, even if she's wearing your face. What if he hexes her?<br/>
<br/>
And as she's just shown, she can be reckless. If she puts on a mask of him, she could cause some real chaos, with doubles and doppelgangers popping up everyplace. If Braydon gets a hint about what's going on ... and if he guesses what's really going on ... ?<br/>
<br/>
Well, what would happen if he traced it all back to you and Natalie, and <i>got hold of the book?</i><br/>
<br/>
No, even before Natalie says anything, you've decided. If you're going to do anything with this mask she's made, it will be <i>you</i> doing it.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll use it," you announce.<br/>
<br/>
"What? The mask? Will!" she exclaims, which is strange because it's your voice she's speaking with. "I should—! I know Gilly! I know the best way of using it!"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I can do you one better. Meet me tomorrow and I’ll explain." You close the line before she can argue.<br/>
<br/>
<i>U tease!</i> she texts a minute later. You ignore it, though, and go digging for that little box she keeps under her bed.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
You study the fully polished, sealed and equipped mask with rapt interest as Natalie—still under your visage—questions you. "Alright. <i>Finally.</i> What’s the plan?"<br/>
<br/>
It's after school, and the dark, dank, musty, junky, oily elementary school basement is a poor place to show off what you wore at Eastman (your second day there, pretending to be Natalie). It's a nifty little outfit assembled by Mandy for you: a trendy blouse which you tied up to a knot up your sternum, coupled with some denim overalls that are a bit too tight for your hips but which leave your loins visible, and a beret that she said would "accent your artistic appeal." It certainly seemed to catch Natalie's attention when she picked you up. You wonder if she's jealous. Certainly she's got less to work with than you. About the best she can do with your wardrobe is what she's done: wear your cap backwards.<br/>
<br/>
Which looks dumb, and is another reason to shuffle off her mask and clothes and get back into your own. And you'd like to leave her the task of dealing with the ever-spreading rumor (which Genevieve keeps cranking up) that Natalie Dawkins is dating a Westside senior. And it's only bound to get worse, now that Alyssa has got it firmly in her head that it's true.<br/>
<br/>
But as for the plan: "You know about Morgana Hollis, right?"<br/>
<br/>
At first Will seems to draw a blank, but then he smirks."Yeah. Your school’s resident witch."<br/>
<br/>
"In a way. 'Cept I guess Braydon would argue, because I've heard he's not that chill with her ideas about the occult."<br/>
<br/>
"I've heard that too." Will's smirk deepens.<br/>
<br/>
You give him a look. "So what do <i>you</i> think would happen if Braydon had a little <i>thing</i>"—you accent the word so she'll know what kind of a "thing" you mean—"with Morgana?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oo! Gilly wouldn't like that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, obviously. Braydon's her 'hubby', right?"<br/>
<br/>
"That’s so wicked!" He titters, but stops abruptly. "But hold on. If Braydon doesn't like Morgana—?"<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't <i>not</i> like her. I don't think. He just thinks she's a joke."<br/>
<br/>
"But still, why—?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what'd make it <i>extra bad,</i> if he did it with someone he thinks is a joke."<br/>
<br/>
Will still looks dubious, and in truth it does sound a little ill-thought-out when said aloud. "We’ll think about how to handle it," you say. "First, we need some clothes to go with the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's easy. Hot Topic'll have all you need."<br/>
<br/>
"And his jewelry. He's gonna have to have his silver. Thing is," you muse, "I don't know where to get that."<br/>
<br/>
"You will if you look in there." Will points to the mask.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, dur!</i> you chide yourself. Of course, any occult secrets he's got will be in there.<br/>
<br/>
And as you move into the corner that has turned into your changing-out space, you find yourself musing: <i>Yes. All his occult secrets. And if we can put his secrets together with ours ...</i><br/>
<br/>
You don't dwell on it, though, but lay yourself out on the ground and grasp your face ...<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
You wake up with a nasty headache to find yourself in a dark, damp, smelly place. <i>Where the fuck am I?</i><br/>
<br/>
At least you can see at a glance where you <i>aren’t,</i> in one of the old portables in back of the school, which is the last place you remember being. It's too dark, for a start, and there's too much junk piled up around you. You lever yourself upright for a better look-around, and that's when you discover you're naked.<br/>
<br/>
And it's not just your clothes. Your ring’s gone, and so are your chains.<br/>
<br/>
You shut your eyes, trying to figure out what happened. You were in the language wing after lunch with Gillian, munching on each other's lips before breaking off to go to class—and you were thinking how you wanted to get <i>deeper in</i> when with a start you noticed Will Prescott leaning close.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Will Prescott.</i> The name and face set off an alarm in your head for some reason. He was off with Gillian last weekend while you were busy with some other stuff, and you got some ribbing from Christian Knouse about it—"Prescott's trying to steal your girl"—but that's not what bothers you now (and it didn't bother you then). No, there's something else ...<br/>
<br/>
Well, he said he wanted to talk to you after school about something—<i>And was it about Gillian?</i> Maybe that weekend thing bothered you more than you realized—and asked you to meet him at the old abandoned portables back of the school. He was evasive, even edgy, and he seemed very nervous when you caught up to him like he asked. He'd jimmied open one of the portables already, and he invited you to go in ahead of him. You had just stepped over the threshold when you felt him reach around from behind and put his hands over your face ...<br/>
<br/>
You frown. That seems to be all. Except for the nasty sense that you won't like what you learn when you find out what Prescott wanted to talk to you about.<br/>
<br/>
You get to your feet and shuffle out of the little corner you woke inside. You find you're in a very large, basement-like space, stacked deep with old school desks, cabinets, book shelves, cast off equipment, and other junk. It give you a strong sense of <i>deja vu.</i><br/>
<br/>
A movement catches your eye, and you realize that what you took at first to be a broken, cast-off mannequin is actually a person. Worse— It's Will Prescott!<br/>
<br/>
His head is bent over an open book, the sight of which for some reason gives you a stab of fear and horror. You must have made a noise, because Prescott looks up at you.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" you murmur.<br/>
<br/>
"Will," he says.<br/>
<br/>
Then, in a leap, you are at him, grabbing at his shirt, even though he is somehow loathsome to the touch. "The fuck is the big idea?" you snarl at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Prescott slaps you across the face. The world seems to go upside down and then—<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry about that," you mutter after everything has stopped spinning and come to rest in a way that makes sense again. You fight the urge to <i>pull your own head off your shoulders</i> so you can reset it there more firmly.<br/>
<br/>
"God!" Will gasps. "That was insane! For a moment I almost thought you were the real guy!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>So was I,</i> you don't tell him. You shake out your limbs, and give him a direct look. "Okay, so—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, first you gotta tell me," Will says. "Is Braydon hexing Gilly or what?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink. Almost you laugh, for you're sure she must be joking. But then you see she isn't.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you're about brush her question off when you suddenly think, <i>Am I? Is he?</i><br/>
<br/>
You hold up your right hand, examining the index finger, and the place where that silver ring should be. There's two answers to her question. The first is <i>I kind of hope so,</i> and the second is, <i>Probably not.</i> You know Natalie won't like either answer, so you stammer, "Well, I can't say."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, come on!" Will says. "You should know! You've got his mind, right? Is he or isn't he?"<br/>
<br/>
You study your hand, which is small and pale and soft. The ring Braydon made, it's supposed to amplify the wearer's own ability to influence others, and so it should amplify his ability to keep Gillian close and ... mesmerized. But either it doesn't work, or— You bite your lip. <i>Either it doesn't work or I have almost zero personal charisma for it to work with.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so," you answer. "I mean, he's got a ring that he <i>thinks</i> should influence people—"<br/>
<br/>
"Then why didn’t you say so!?"<br/>
<br/>
You're about to answer when your eye falls onto the book, open in Will's lap. You feel a twinge of the jealousy Braydon would feel. And you feel a twinge of your own as you think on the "magic" he has tried to master.<br/>
<br/>
But Natalie wants an answer. There's one she won't like, and there's one that'll keep her quiet, at least, while giving you a chance to extend your research.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1113432222131111212211
author_id: rugal
title: The Warlock and the Maiden
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Do you really want to know?"<br/>
<br/>
Natalie looks at you and nods silently. The look on her face is serious, almost pleading. It's the most serious you've seen her since the two of you met so you know that she's not fooling around, either. It's that uncharacteristic seriousness that solidifies your desire to tell her the truth. You can tell that it might hurt her, after all she seems to desperately want to believe that <i>something</i> is controlling Gillian. But that's why you don't want to lie to her. Feeding into a delusion might keep her sedated but it might also reinforce her and cause her to be even more reckless with the masks.<br/>
<br/>
Besides, you want to continue being friends with Natalie... and maybe you'd like to be <i>more</i> than friends with her. When she'd offered to get inbetween Mansfield and Lisa, you didn't feel the same temptation as you'd might have felt a week or two earlier. Indeed, you don't feel attached to the idea of Lisa because you don't need her anymore. You have Natalie.<br/>
<br/>
Oh to be sure she's impulsive, pushy and even exhausting. But she's also fun and, in her way, thoughtful and you can't help but to think of her as a kindred spirit. In lots of ways she's different from you but in many other respects she shares similar insecurities and worries and you think that you'd like to be there for her and show her that she has nothing to worry about.<br/>
<br/>
But if you want this relationship to continue then you feel that you need to be honest with her and that includes things concerning Braydon and Gillian. So you ask her once more if she wants to know the truth; she gulps but nods. She probably knows what's coming. So you take a deep breath to steel yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"The truth is that there isn't any hex," you state. "Yes, Braydon has this ring," you hold up the finger where it'd go, "but it seems to work on nobody else and he suspects that it might not be doing anything to Gillian either. He believes that it's supposed to amplify the wearer's charisma, yet it hasn't produced any tangible results."<br/>
<br/>
"Except on Gilly," your double says, his face pale. You watch as he places his hands to his face. "Hey, what was that stuff you needed to say to get these things off, again? I kind of feel like going back to myself."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You help Natalie get the mask off and then sit down and remove your own mask. At this point you've seen one another naked multiple times so it barely seems to register for her as she quietly strips off your clothing and puts her own back on while you get dressed yourself. Natalie is quiet as she hops onto the largest table and allows her legs to dangle and swing. She looks downwards but doesn't seem to actually be staring at anything.<br/>
<br/>
"I kind of knew," she says lifelessly. "About Gilly and Braydon, I mean. I guess I didn't want to admit it, though."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess love doesn't always make sense," you say sympathetically.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not just that," she responds. "You've seen how she is. She's the type of person who's just going to do her own thing regardless of what others think, y'know?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can see that."<br/>
<br/>
"I've known her a long time and I always felt like we were the only people who really got one another,," she says. "But when she got with Braydon... I just didn't get it. I really didn't understand just what she saw in him."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I could put the mask back on and lo—"<br/>
<br/>
"No," she cuts you off. "I don't even really care about that right now. God, it's not even about feeling like Gilly's slipping away, either."<br/>
<br/>
She's quiet for a moment and you yourself say nothing. She looks over at you with a defeated look. "I'm a senior and yet—" She cuts herself off as her voice become shaky. "You felt it, right? When you were in my head? Everyone's planning for their futures and getting boyfriends and girlfriends and yet here I am, dressing like I'm thirteen, playing around with stupid shit and acting like a brat because I don't like my friend's boyfriend! No wonder my friends and my parents and <i>everyone</i> treat me like I'm still a kid! Everyone, even my best friend, is leaving me behind!"<br/>
<br/>
She's getting worked up and on pure instinct you reach out and grab Natalie and pull her in close. You almost want to panic at what you're doing but in spite of it, you clasp her and hold her close to you. She doesn't struggle and instead you feel hands pushing into your shoulder blade, pulling you closer. She sniffles and you begin to feel a dampness through your shirt as she buries her face in your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"I really get how you feel because I always feel the same way about myself," you tell her in as comforting a voice as you can manage. "But I guess hanging out with you has shown me that there's nothing wrong with that. You have fun and I'm having fun too. You're fine the way you are."<br/>
<br/>
That elicits a loud cry and more sniffling and more dampness. "I still hate Braydon. I'm never going to like him," comes Natalie's muffled voice after a few minutes. "But I like you, Will. Unlike him, you're a decent guy and I really wish you were Gilly's boyfriend instead."<br/>
<br/>
You stay like this until she calms down and wipes her eyes. You both decide to close up for the day and not even think about that new spell, especially when you get back upstairs and lock the door, you can see Natalie's eyes are still red and splotchy. So you take the keys for the lock and remove one of them from the ring.<br/>
<br/>
"Here," you say as you hand it to her. "I figure it's only fair that I let you have the other one."<br/>
<br/>
"You're actually just going to let me come and go as I please from your 'secret base'?" she asks as she looks at it.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I mean we're friends, right? I trust you."<br/>
<br/>
Natalie thanks you and pulls you into a tight, friendly hug, her mood seemingly brightened up from the gloominess of earlier. You decide to both head home for the day. You offer to drive her but she reminds you about her dad and says she'll just Uber like usual. You make no definite plans to meet up tomorrow because Natalie's not sure what she's doing, but she says that she'll get in touch with you when she has a more solid idea.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Thursday winds up being a rather dull and uneventful day. Even when Braydon pulls you aside as fourth period lets out to ask you what was up with you yesterday (on account of what Natalie did) he seems more curious than upset and only gives a simple "I see" when you tell him that it turned out to be nothing. You hear nothing else from him or Gillian and a text to Natalie asking if you can get together is met with an answer saying that she has family stuff today so she can't.<br/>
<br/>
Friday, on the other hand, proves to be more eventful. The first event comes at lunch when, eating with your usual crew, you're accosted by Yumi, Lin and Jessica as they sit down with you. Especially odd as Jessica and Lin only rarely join Yumi when she's with you and when they do, their attention is never on you... until today.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey so we were wondering," Lin begins as she gives you a curious look, "did you get yourself a girlfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
You nearly choke on your sandwich and Keith who dismisses the idea. But you do ask where they heard that from.<br/>
<br/>
"Tina Branson from Eastman," Jessica says. "She was asking me and Eva yesterday if we knew a Westside boy named Will. Apparently he's been hanging out with one of her friends. So do you know anyone named Natalie?"<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa must have decided to play mother hen by having Tina, who did say that she knew people from Westside, ask about you. "Um, me and Natalie <i>have</i> been hanging out," you say shyly, "but we're just friends right now."<br/>
<br/>
"Right now?" Lin asks with amusement and you feel even more anxious as the spotlight has definitely turned on you. Caleb guesses she's the one you've been blowing him off for. Keith is in disbelief. Lin, Jessica, Yumi and even Jenny grill you for all the details. James and Carson merely seem entertained by the whole thing.<br/>
<br/>
You're still feeling self-conscious by the time seventh rolls around. You're so lost in your own world that you jump when a pair of hands clasps your shoulders and someone sits down next to you. "So how's it going? We haven't really had any chances to talk all week, huh?" asks Gillian as she gives you a warm smile. "Nat's said that you've been spending a lot of time together."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, well, sure. I guess," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"That's good, I'm glad the two of you are getting along." She then moves to place her hand on top of yours. "But I've been wanting to hang out again too and my hubby's got some session with Christian and them after school. So what say <i>we</i> hang out for a change? Maybe do something tonight? Have you ever been out to the Warehouse?"<br/>
<br/>
You can only shake your head because you're really kind of bowled over. There's probably nothing wrong with hanging out as friends with Gillian seeing as nothing's happened and Braydon, from what you can tell, doesn't seem threatened by you. But before you can give Gillian a definitive yes or no, your phone buzzes and you see a couple of urgent messages from Natalie.<br/>
<br/>
<i>pick me up after school. we need to talk.<br/>
jus the 2 of us! very very VERY important!</i><br/>
<br/>
Natalie has something very important to discuss with you and wants to do it alone with just the two of you? At this point, you're certain that you want a relationship with her that's more than friendship. Maybe she feels the same way and wants to talk about it? But you might be getting ahead of yourself. It's probably another mask plot; a new scheme to try and get between Braydon and Gillian.<br/>
<br/>
And speaking of Gillian, she's still giving you that warm expression as she insistently tries to prod you into hanging out. You <i>would</i> definitely like to hang out with her, too.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11134322221311112122111
author_id: seuzz
title: Safety First
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a dicey situation, but you put off Gillian as best you can. Which is hard, because she keeps trying to <i>touch and tickle you.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Natalie texted you again at the start of last period, and again when classes got out, each time sounding more desperate. You ignored her because you weren't <i>quite</i> sure what you were going to do, but now, on your way out to the parking lot, you text her to stop panicking, that you're on your way.<br/>
<br/>
She is waiting out front of the school, right at the corner where you turn into the front parking lot, and you haven't even brought the truck to a complete stop when she yanks the door open and leaps into the cab. "Oh, thank <i>God</i> you got here, Will!" she exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the big deal, what—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Have you seen Braydon or Gillian today?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself start, guiltily. "Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, you <i>have!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>yeah,</i> I've got Braydon for English—"<br/>
<br/>
"You talk to either of them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why? Why're you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just answer my question!"<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath and confess that Gillian spent seventh period with you in the library, and you confess that she was being extra flirty and stuff. <i>Like at the soccer fields last weekend,</i> you tell her. You also confess that she wanted to hang out with you after school and ... maybe hit the Warehouse tonight? You grit your teeth and steel yourself against the expected explosion.<br/>
<br/>
It comes, but not in the direction you were dreading.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!" Natalie gasps for about the tenth time. "She— We have to get back to the school! The basement!"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just hurry! Braydon's gonna be on his way there!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"I got together with Gillian yesterday and we talked. I wanted to clear the air between us a little. I mean, after yesterday— Or day before— Whenever. When you—" She sucks in a deep, ragged breath. "The day I got that mask of Braydon," she says in a very tight voice, "and you put it on and we had that talk. I just wanted to, you know, make sure that her and me were alright. I mean, that I could be alright with her going out with Braydon."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we got to talking, and we got talking about <i>you,</i> because it's all over the place that you and me are together or something—"<br/>
<br/>
"I had a couple of cheerleaders come talk to me about that at lunch today!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>dur!</i> Alyssa and Tina and their big mouths! You know I'm really starting to regret ever being part of that thing with them, now that I get an idea what it's like to be on the other end of it."<br/>
<br/>
"They're not so bad," you try to reassure her.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>anyway!</i> She wanted to— <i>Don't slow down, you can beat it!</i>" Her yell scares you into punching the accelerator, and you bust through a yellow light just as it is turning red. "But we were talking about you and we wound up down at your old elementary school, 'cos it's a nice place and it's where we meet to talk, you and me, I mean, and I just thought I'd show her—"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't show her the basement, did you?"<br/>
<br/>
Now it's her turn to flinch. "Well—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't take her down into it, Will! Give me that much credit! But I did tell her that you have a clubhouse down there, that we have our own lock on the door."<br/>
<br/>
"And you've got a key now!"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't use it and I didn't tell her I had one! I told her <i>you</i> had one, so I couldn't show it to her. But I did tell her about it."<br/>
<br/>
You growl in the back of your throat. She's reminding you again of how <i>reckless</i> she can be. She gets an idea into her head and she runs off with it without thinking of the consequences. <br/>
<br/>
But then you wonder— "So wait, what does this have to do with Braydon going out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't <i>know</i> that he's out there, but— But didn't you tell me that Braydon talked to you about, um, what happened at the portables?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"And what'd you tell him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told him it was nothing."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what did he say? About getting cold-cocked and waking up—?"<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't say nothing. He just asked me what that was about at the portables the other day, and I— I didn't know what to say to that, so I just said it was nothing and I changed my mind about talking to him about it."<br/>
<br/>
"And he said?"<br/>
<br/>
"He just said 'Okay' and went back to his seat. Class was about to start."<br/>
<br/>
"And you didn't think that was weird? Him just dropping the subject like that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well ... <i>he's</i> weird."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! Will! You don't have any idea! It's when he gets that cool 'Yeah, whatever' attitude, that's when you need to expect a sucker punch! But he told Gillian about it, and while I was with her she asked me about how come you wanted to talk to Braydon out at the portables, and I just said, 'Well, you'll have to talk to Will about it' and she— Did she ask you about that when you were with her today?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Did she get ahold of your keys, try to get the—?"<br/>
<br/>
You have to slap her hand away from the ignition as she lunges for your key chain. "No she didn't, Natalie. But I still don't get—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I just got to thinking. Gillian knows about the basement, and Braydon is probably really ticked off at you about the portables thing—"<br/>
<br/>
"That was <i>you</i>."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>He</i> doesn't know that! But if she tells him about the basement, and she will, then I bet anything he's gonna try and go out there, just to snoop around if nothing else." She grabs your knee. "And you're telling me," she says, her voice rising to a shriek, "that Gillian came into the library with you today?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"How often does she do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I sometimes see her in there, but we never talk."<br/>
<br/>
"And she wanted to <i>take you off someplace?</i> Just the two of you? And maybe keep you out all night?"<br/>
<br/>
A chill envelops your heart even before Natalie adds, "Like she was <i>trying to lure you away while her 'hubby'—?"</i><br/>
<br/>
You're already cruising down Twentieth at five miles over the speed limit, but you punch it to fifteen over. And when you make the turn onto Albion, you take it on two wheels.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There are a handful of cars parked in front of the community center, but Natalie tells you that none of them look like Braydon's. If he hightailed it straight over after leaving Westside, then he probably would have beat you handily. But that doesn't mean he isn't on his way over, or that he won't be over later. You agree with Natalie that you've <i>got</i> to get the stuff out of the basement before he ever has a chance or idea to go snooping down there.<br/>
<br/>
You keep watch on the outside, loitering near the corner of the wing so you can see if Braydon or a security person comes wandering in your direction, while Natalie packs things up. She brings you a couple of bags, packed with masks, the book, and the tools you've been using, and you carry it back to your truck. When you meet her at the corner again, she's got bags packed with ingredients and clothes, which you carry back to the truck as well, dropping them with the others in the bed. She's waiting at the corner, wringing her hands and dancing from foot to foot, when you get back.<br/>
<br/>
"I've been all through the basement, Will," she says as she grabs your hand, "but I know I'm missing something or forgot something."<br/>
<br/>
"It'll be okay," you say as she tugs you back to the basement door.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but I don't want to leave <i>anything</i> behind. Oh God, I'm so frazzled! You have to look in there and make sure I didn't forget anything!"<br/>
<br/>
"I—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Please?"</i> She shoves you down the stairs, and with a grimace you relent.<br/>
<br/>
You've just reached the bottom of the interior stairs when you hear the basement door slam shut. You wheel, puzzled but paralyzed.<br/>
<br/>
Then comes a scarier sound, that of the padlock being shut.<br/>
<br/>
"Natalie!" you yell, when you can finally find your voice. "Natalie!" you holler as you glimpse her feet through the windows, as she scampers back the way you came.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You give her ten minutes to come back, figuring that she must have heard or seen something that frightened her, and then you text her, asking what's up. You get no reply. Twenty minutes after that, and you still have no reply. You test the door without luck, and you also test the windows, but they are all painted shut and there's no way you're going to try breaking the glass.<br/>
<br/>
About an hour after you got locked in, you finally get a reply.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Text Gillian,</i> Natalie says. <i>Tell her to bring boltcutters to get u out. Then tell her to take her face off, u ASSHOLE.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God, Will, I fucked up so bad," Natalie wails when she finally frees you. She is still wearing Gillian's clothes, but she has taken off the mask she wore to Westside today.<br/>
<br/>
"What were you <i>thinking?</i>" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I wasn't!" she sobs.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you can hash it out later. Right now you've got a different problem. Natalie got a text (on Gillian's phone) from Gillian (who still has Natalie's):<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ok guys me and braydon are ready to talk to u.</i><span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11134322221311112122112
author_id: seuzz
title: Safety Last
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a dicey situation, but you hold off Gillian as best you can. Which is hard, because she keeps trying to <i>touch and tickle you.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Natalie texted you again at the beginning of last period, and she texted again when classes got out, each time sounding more desperate. You ignored her because you weren't quite sure what you were going to do, but now, on your way out to the parking lot, you pull out your phone: <i>On way get u now.</i> Then you add, <i>Want me bring gilly all of us can hang out.</i><br/>
<br/>
Natalie calls you back direct. "Are you with Gillian now?" she asks in a guarded tone.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm on my way to my truck. But I can go look for her—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, do that! Text her right now, she sometimes gets a ride with Braydon, but you can give her a ride instead."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Then—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hurry! Then call me back soon as you can!" The line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jeez,</i> you think. <i>Someone's got ants in her panties.</i><br/>
<br/>
So you text Gillian, then call Natalie back. "Okay, it's not set up yet," you tell her, "but I did text her, asked if she wanted to come with me to pick you up, and then we could all three hang out."<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome! Except— Give me twenty minutes before you get here, then I'll text you saying I got a ride from someone else and can't hang out."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"And then <i>you and Gillian</i> go hang out together. Like, all night if you can swing it. Just don't let her bring Braydon along!"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Why do want me to—? Oh!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Will, this is perfect! She must'a had a fight with him or something, and she's doing her flirty, 'I'm gonna go off with someone else' thing. And she picked <i>you</i> again! So take advantage of it. Please?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, alright. Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing." You were going to ask to make sure if that wouldn't make her jealous, but change your mind at the last minute. And besides, your phone's chiming. "Gotta go, I think that's Gillian."<br/>
<br/>
"Good luck!" she cries, and hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It is Gillian texting, and she is glad to go off with you. But once you're in your truck, she starts wheedling. "Do you <i>have</i> to go pick up Natalie?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I said I would."<br/>
<br/>
"But can't you text her, tell her something came up and she'll have to find someone else?"<br/>
<br/>
"But I told her—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but I couldn't do <i>this</i>"—she walks her fingers up your thigh, and you spasm with glee—"if she's along."<br/>
<br/>
"Well," you croak in a voice about an octave higher than usual, "maybe that's a good reason to have her along."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you two serious?" she asks. "I <i>hear</i> you're serious."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I— I— Uh—"<br/>
<br/>
She giggles. "You're stammering. That means you are!"<br/>
<br/>
"We— We haven't ... <i>talked</i> about it!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to talk about it, not something like that. How do you <i>feel</i> about Natalie, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
You're glad that you're just reaching your truck and haven't started it and driven off in it, because with the sudden wave of dizziness that hits you, you'd probably steer into oncoming traffic.<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, you're saved by the realization that you don't have to be truthful with Gillian, or even with yourself. Natalie wants you to flirt with Gillian, to wedge yourself just a little bit into the crack that's still open between her and Braydon. And telling her (as you suspect you would if you were honest) that you are starting to have feelings for Natalie wouldn't work.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we've been hanging out, and I do like her," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"But do you <i>like</i> her?"<br/>
<br/>
You've just reached your truck, and you wait until you're both inside before saying, "I like her, but I don't think I like her <i>that</i> way. Or, if I do," you think with what seems to you a bold stroke of genius, "it's because she reminds me of someone else." You turn toward her with what you hope and intend is a smoldering stare.<br/>
<br/>
Gillian stares back, open-mouthed.<br/>
<br/>
Then she bursts out laughing.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You insist on driving out to Eastman, despite Gillian's shriller and shriller pleas, and you're almost there before you get the text you were expecting, cancelling the pick up. Gillian busts out a sigh of relief, and instantly suggests that, as you're about to drive past it anyway, you stop at King Kong Komics to hang out with Christian and his friends.<br/>
<br/>
They're not there, though, and when after thirty minutes they still haven't shown up, Gillian prods you into texting Christian to find out when they're going to show. The answer: They're not. Howie Baylor has a dental appointment, so Christian and the guys are meeting someplace closer to where they all live. And where's that? The answer gives you a jolt: The Acheson Community Center.<br/>
<br/>
Gillian squeals when you tell her, and grabs your hand. "Come on!" she says. "Natalie told me that's where you and her like to hang out! I wanna see it!" You're feeling a little whey-faced on the drive out, but she won't accept your half-hearted excuses for why you should go elsewhere.<br/>
<br/>
Even worse awaits you at the Center, for she insists on walking around the grounds before going in to find Christian and them, and when you round the corner leading to the basement, she drops a bombshell: "Natalie tells me you two have a secret hangout here." She nibbles on her thumbnail and grins at you. "Show it to me?"<br/>
<br/>
You demur, but she pinches and pokes at you until she herself confesses that Natalie already told her that it's "in the basement." "In there?" she asks, pointing to one of the windows that peeps through the long grass, just above the ground.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jesus, Natalie,</i> you think as Gillian drops to her stomach to peer in through the glass. <i>Did you tell her </i>all<i> our secrets?</i> You pray that your stuff—particularly the book—are out of sight.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe they are out in the open. For with a gasp, Gillian jumps up and runs down the steps to the door. "The key, Will!" she shouts as she pulls at the knob. "Get this thing unlocked!"<br/>
<br/>
"Gillian, I don't think we should—"<br/>
<br/>
"The key, dammit!"<br/>
<br/>
She runs up and grabs at your shorts. You jerk hard, then freeze as she yanks your key chain from your pocket. She runs back to the basement and lets herself in. You follow, stiff with dread.<br/>
<br/>
She's rummaging around your work area when you catch up. "Wh-what are you looking for, Gillian?" you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Will!" she answers in a haggard voice. "Wake up and smell the coffee! It's <i>me! Natalie!"</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The world reels, and you put out a hand to catch yourself. "Hold on. Gil—? Na—? <i>Who am I talking to?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"You're talking to me! Natalie Dawkins! I brought Gillian out here last night and I hit her with a new mask I made. Then I pretended we got body-swapped—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"You told Gillian about our stuff?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"I didn't tell her anything! I pretended like I was all confused too! Which I was, because I didn't have any of her memories when I woke up, and she didn't have any of— Oh!" Her eyes go wide with horror.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shit! I didn't think about that! Or I didn't think—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Gill—! Natalie! <i>What?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
She grabs her head between both hands, and moans.<br/>
<br/>
"I told her I didn't know what happened!" she says. "But I woke up this morning, and I had her memories! So when she woke up, she must've had ... mine!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, dur!</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
"Except," she continues, "when I texted her this morning she was acting like she didn't. I asked her if she could 'do me' at school, and she said she thought so but she wasn't sure. But she must've remembered— And she remembered this place because her and me were out here— And she must'a come back here after school let out—"<br/>
<br/>
Horror ripples down your back. You look around, and only now notice that <i>all your stuff</i>—masks, book, and everything—is gone.<br/>
<br/>
"She told me to keep you busy," you tell her in a hoarse whisper. "When she texted me—"<br/>
<br/>
"She texted you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes! In the library! When we were— She wanted me to pick her up, but then she told me to take you off someplace, to keep you busy, so that—" You gulp. "She wanted me to start working on making Braydon jealous!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God!" She claps her hands to her cheeks. "She knows what I'm up to!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, fucking-A! Of course she knows what you're up to! She's got your brain, she knows what you want to do to her and Braydon—!"<br/>
<br/>
"But I figured she'd understand!"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course she understands! She knows you're trying to <i>use black magic to break her and her boyfriend up!"</i><br/>
<br/>
"I thought she'd understand!" Gillian wails. "She'd know it from my point of view!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she does now! Do you understand it from <i>hers?"</i><br/>
<br/>
Gillian's face goes green. "I think so," she says. "I really don't think she'll be mad!"<br/>
<br/>
You fall onto a table. "Well, she took our shit. It doesn't really matter if she's mad or not."<br/>
<br/>
"We have to talk to her!" Gillian gasps. "Before she tells Braydon about it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you think she hasn't already?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck <i>us,</i> Natalie! She knows what we <i>did</i> to Braydon! Making that mask of him! And how we were gonna <i>use</i> it!"<br/>
<br/>
"So text her!" Gillian shrieks. "Before she tells <i>him!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's like grim death, but you tap in a message to Natalie's phone: <i>Hey I think we shld meet.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's ten minutes before she replies. <i>Who meet?<br/>
<br/>
U n me n—</i> You have to grit your teeth before adding, <i>n Natalie.</i><br/>
<br/>
Another minute's wait before she replies, <i>Lol r u at basmnt?<br/>
<br/>
Yes.<br/>
<br/>
Roflmao. Ok but my hubby comes too.</i><br/>
<br/>
You look up at Natalie. "Braydon knows."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111343222213111121221121
author_id: seuzz
title: A Face Off with Faces Off
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You sortof-kindof understand what's been happening behind your back, but you go over it again with Natalie (who is still looking like Gillian) as you drive off to meet Braydon and Gillian. <br/>
<br/>
So after you left the basement on Wednesday, she got the wild idea of pulling off a "body swap" with Gillian. She used the key you gave her to get into the basement to make another mask. Then yesterday, after school, she lured Gillian out to the basement and managed to copy her with the mask, then put her own mask onto Natalie and put Gillian's onto herself. Voila! Instant body swap!<br/>
<br/>
<i>And why</i> you asked through gritted teeth, <i>did you want to do that?</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, she thought it could be a bonding experience. <i>Oh my God, we're in each other's bodies! We can't tell anyone!<br/>
<br/>
But,</i> you pointed out, <i>she'd have your memories. She'd know about the masks and what you've been doing with them—</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, yes. And that was part of her first plan. It would be hard to tell Gillian about how she felt, but if Gillian could actually <i>feel</i> Natalie's feelings, then it would be easier for them to deal with each other.<br/>
<br/>
But, it didn't work out that way, because she didn't get Gillian's memories and Gillian didn't get hers, and <i>why was that?</i> she wanted to know. You could only shrug.<br/>
<br/>
Well, anyway, with both of them not having each other's memories, that's when Plan B kicked in, and they decided they'd have to go home as each other and not tell anyone what happened. That would still be a "bonding experience," Natalie privately decided.<br/>
<br/>
And then this morning, when she woke up, she did have Gillian's memories, but when she texted Gillian, Gillian seemed to not have her (that is, Natalie's) memories, so— "Well, I just thought it was win-win all around!" she says. "I could be Gillian and start to push her and Braydon apart, and then her and me could bond over our secret body swap! It all makes sense, Will," she insists.<br/>
<br/>
And yes, it does, in an upside-down, inside-out kind of way. The only problem is, you remind her, that Gillian <i>did</i> get Natalie's memories, and <i>did</i> realize that Natalie was lying to her about the body swap, and <i>did</i> realize that Natalie has been trying to break her and Braydon up, and she <i>knows now</i> that Natalie was using occult means, including sandbagging and copying her "hubby" so that Natalie and her friend Will Prescott could <i>pretend to be him</i> to stir up trouble between them!<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah!" Natalie says. She's got her arms crossed defensively. "I know what's happened, Will, I was there! But now it's all out in the open, and we can deal with it honestly."<br/>
<br/>
You're waiting at a light, so you close your eyes and rest your forehead on the wheel. "And why couldn't you deal with it out in the open, honestly, before it got so complicated?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know," she says. "Really, why did Gillian have to go running off to Braydon with our stuff? It'd be so much simpler if <i>he</i> wasn't going to get mixed up in it!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>And it isn't complicated enough without him?</i> you want to yell. You cannot fathom that Natalie thinks Gillian isn't going to be <i>furious</i> about all this.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Natalie is still wearing Gillian's mask when you pull into the parking lot at Besandwiched—<br/>
<br/>
And of course they wanted to meet at Besandwiched, one of the weirdly numerous occult-flavored businesses that dot Saratoga Falls like white mushrooms after a rainstorm.<br/>
<br/>
—because she doesn't know if Gillian is still in her (Natalie's) mask. "Go in and check," she urges you, "then come back and tell me."<br/>
<br/>
<i>The only thing worse than two girls wearing the same outfit when they run into each other,</i> you find yourself thinking as you dismount your truck, <i>is two girls wearing the same </i>face<i> when they run into each other!</i><br/>
<br/>
Braydon and Gillian are seated near the front, and it is Gillian and not a Natalie clone, so you signal Natalie to take the mask off. She nods, and falls back onto the bench, hiding herself from view. You take a deep breath and trudge back into the restaurant.<br/>
<br/>
It's a creepy place and you don't much like it. The staff are all weedy and stringy, most of them (male and female) with long hair that's like dribbling seaweed, and weird facial hair and piercings and tattoos, and they're pale like they've lived all their lives underground in damp earthen caves. The decor isn't just occult—lots of pentagrams and triangles and five-pointed stars painted on the walls—but oppressive, particularly the moonfaced thing painted on one wall. It's six feet tall and wide, with chubby cheeks, a slit for a mouth, and half-closed eyes, and the way it dominates the narrow black wall it's painted on, it looks like a demented Thomas the Tank Engine bursting from a railway tunnel. Anywhere you sit in the restaurant, you have to turn your back on it to not see it, and when you sit with your back to it you are always uneasily glancing behind, to make sure it's not howling from out of its wall, about to run you over.<br/>
<br/>
Gillian looks healthy and normal, but Braydon—with his sickly pallor and his caved-in chest, his light mascara, his black clothes, his fauxhawk that looks like it's been greased with shoe polish, his silver, and his heavy-lidded "cool"— totally belongs in this place.<br/>
<br/>
They're taking up one side of a booth, facing the door, and you slide into the seat opposite (putting your back to the Moon-thing). Braydon's eyes droop sleepily, and he chucks his chin at you. "Hey, Will," he says with hollow-sounding friendliness. "Where's Natalie?"<br/>
<br/>
"She had to take her face off," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Ha!" says Braydon. Gillian says nothing. She wears a faint smile, but— <i>Poker face,</i> you find yourself thinking. There's steel inside her gaze.<br/>
<br/>
"So," continues Braydon with sly amusement. "I hear you kids have been up to the devil's business."<br/>
<br/>
You flinch. "You have our stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gillian showed it to me. I haven't had a chance to look it over yet, but it sounds fascinating."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." You lean forward, folded hands on the table, then lean back as a waitress materializes to ask if she can get you something. You shake your head, and she goes.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen," you start again. "I want you to know, straight from me, I didn't have anything to do with what happened out at the portables the other day. That wasn't me."<br/>
<br/>
"It looked like you," Braydon drawls.<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't me! You know that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Braydon smirks, then turns to look at Gillian. She is still studying you with that bright, steely half-smile. He kisses the side of her head, but she doesn't react.<br/>
<br/>
"It was an amazing resemblance," Braydon says. "I'm really looking forward to trying it out."<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you think he's just referring to your magic stuff in general, but your heart skips a beat when another interpretation suggests itself. "Trying what out?"<br/>
<br/>
"The resemblance. Gillian tells me you were trying to seduce her—"<br/>
<br/>
"That was Natalie's idea!"<br/>
<br/>
Gillian finally speaks. "You were going along with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, for my part," Braydon drawls, "l don't mind if someone who <i>looks</i> like you tries getting it on with my girlfriend. I think it'd be pretty exciting, pretty ... sexy ... if someone who <i>looked</i> like you got up close and personal with my girlfriend." You shiver. "But it's you and Natalie who're supposed to be an item, you know, so you know what might be even sexier? If it was someone who <i>looked</i> like you getting it on with someone who looked like— Natalie!" he calls, and gestures to the confused-and-tired-looking girl who has just come in. "We were just talking about you ... and Will."<br/>
<br/>
"How about you two talk," she says. "I wanna talk with Gillian."<br/>
<br/>
Gillian curls her arm around Braydon's waist and gives Natalie that same cool smile. With a huff, Natalie falls into the booth next to you.<br/>
<br/>
"And now that we're all here," Braydon says, and the words practically slither out of him, "we can stop fucking around and get down to business."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's not much of a bargain he proposes. He wants the book, the masks, and all your supplies. "And since we've already got them," he says, "I think that's only fair."<br/>
<br/>
And what is he willing to give you? He shrugs and admits that he can't think of a thing. "You don't have a lot to bargain with," he reminds you.<br/>
<br/>
"We've got Gilly's mask out in Will's truck," Natalie exclaims. Then she shrieks as Gillian coldly and deliberately pushes her water glass over, spilling its contents into Natalie's lap. "Oops, you better go mop that up," Gillian says. Natalie runs from the table.<br/>
<br/>
"That is a point, that mask of Gillian's," Braydon says. "Though I think as a good will gesture—an apology to Gillian—you should give it back."<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing, but your toes curl inside your shoes.<br/>
<br/>
"But I don't want to be a dick about it," Braydon says. "Tell you what. You give us Gillian's mask, and we'll give you yours and Natalie's back. That way you can keep on—" He sniggers. "And you don't have to worry about us—" He smirks.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There seems nothing else you can do, so since the other stuff is in Braydon's car, the two of you go out to make the trade. That's when Braydon's manner shifts.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, Prescott," he says in a much less oily manner, "all that shit I was giving you in there, that was for Gillian's benefit. She's pissed off. But me, I get what you did and why you did it. In fact—"<br/>
<br/>
He glances at the restaurant, then leans in close.<br/>
<br/>
"If we both promise to totally leave the girls out of it, I'd be willing to ... <i>share</i> ... some of the stuff with you."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1113432222131111212211212
author_id: nostrum777
title: Taking the Right Path
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Braydon’s offer seems very tempting. Your fun days making magic masks and all that implies seem over—mostly, as he has offered your mask and Natalie’s as a compromise—but this would be a good way to keep your hand in.<br/>
<br/>
And perhaps, get something else out of that deal.<br/>
<br/>
But it only takes a little more thinking to realize that it was sharing that got you into that problem in the first place. You weren’t even interested in showing this stuff to Natalie in the first place, when you thought she was cooler than she ended up being. Now you realize the depths of your folly.<br/>
<br/>
But you still feel a connection to her. Call her immature all you want, it’d be like saying that to you. And you also did some reckless actions—like giving her that key, for one.<br/>
<br/>
So, you see this as a mixed blessing. The book’s out of your hands, so if Natalie’s interested in you, it’ll have to be without the wacky hijinks it brings. And while you’re not sure if it’ll end up in good hands, you sense that, at least, Braydon doesn’t seem to hold anything against you.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "Thanks for the offer, but... no thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"Chickening out?" That’d affect you if you were younger, but you know better.<br/>
<br/>
"Not really. Just... grew out of it." You see his expression sour a bit, but it’s when you reject the masks he's trying to give you—yours and Natalie’s—that he realizes you’re being very serious.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh well," he responds. "Could’ve been fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, and sorry about trying to break you two up. It was Natalie’s idea, but I went along with it."<br/>
<br/>
"She can be a distraction sometimes," he mutters. "But she’s the best thing that has happened to me."<br/>
<br/>
Now you feel extremely guilty. That’s a side of Braydon Delp you didn’t imagine seeing. "Tell Gillian the same. And tell Natalie I had to leave early. Maybe it'll help fix things between you too if <i>you</i> give her a ride home. See ya, man." You awkwardly shake hands as you ride your truck back home, deep in thought.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
Saturday sees you downright harassed by Natalie’s calls and texts. She wonders why you left her there, and what exactly you spoke with Braydon about. She even says she "broke up" with Gillian, and though it’s difficult to judge tone through text, she sounds desperate.<br/>
<br/>
Perhaps it’s that, or the several phone calls you’ve purposefully ignored. Only when you text her that you want some time to think does she stop, and even then, she lets out one last, spiteful and painful text. <i>does that mean u n I r no longer frns?</i><br/>
<br/>
It’s not like you don’t want to. Your life’s been entertaining since she’s around, but you feel exhausted at keeping a leash on her. If this hadn’t happened—if Gillian hadn’t found out, and you still had the book—perhaps you would’ve suggested another swap during the weekend. (You admit that part of the swap was fun, but school? Hell no.)<br/>
<br/>
There’s one more sequel to this twist of events. Just as a distraction, you revisit the community center, to check if your padlock is there. (Not having the book doesn’t mean it can’t be a secret hangout.) But sadly, it has been changed, and this time they've substituted a sturdier one, which looks like it will be impossible to crack open with bolt cutters.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Great,</i> you think to yourself. <i>Not even my hiding place’s safe.</i><br/>
<br/>
Church on Sunday doesn’t give you peace of mind either. The echo of Braydon telling you about being up to "the devil’s business" makes you feel a stranger, and you idly wonder if you should reconcile with God, but that little pest of your brother snaps it out of your mind. "Yo, you look glum. Your chick left you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I left her." Your response sounds harsher than it sounds. And wrong.<br/>
<br/>
At home, when you turn your phone back on, you check to see if Natalie has texted you, but she is still silent. You reread that last exchange, and you wonder if you really broke up with her. That makes the rest of your day feel darker and heavier.<br/>
<br/>
You send her a text, wondering if she’s alright. <i>im okay</i> is her response, but it really doesn’t seem like it. You ask her if she wants to hang out, but she refuses. <i>gotta do hmwk.</i> That reminds you—you've left your homework sidelined, and you completely forgot to write and turn in a paper about the time capsule that was due on Friday. You arranged with Mr. Walberg to deliver it late, but you won’t get any better than a D—and that’s if it’s spectacular—which makes you’re glad that at least Natalie is taking her own work seriously.<br/>
<br/>
Perhaps you should start doing the same.<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
You dread the coming of Monday, for fear of mystery and adventure and possible fakes buzzing around you. You suffer a very bad turn in second period, when Keith swears he saw you across the street at the car wash over the weekend, while he was at work, but when you tell him it wasn't you he just nods and says, "It must'a been your double," which doesn't make you feel any better.<br/>
<br/>
And in English, you don't even look in Braydon's direction.<br/>
<br/>
You are settling in to do homework in Study Hall when you notice Gillian on the opposite side of the library. You remember how hurt Natalie sounded about their "break-up", so you approach her. "Hey."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," she replies, though not effusively.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen." You start to pull out the chair next to her, then shift to the seat opposite. "I’m sorry about all that happened. It’s my fault it got out of control."<br/>
<br/>
"What happened happened. No need to dwell on it." She chews on the end of her pencil. "Though it’s gotten Braydon more distracted than usual. Well, whatever." She looks at you, puzzled. "I thought you’d want to keep those things. You know. The ones of—"<br/>
<br/>
"They’re nothing but trouble. Figured that"—you can’t believe the words that are about to come out of your mouth—"if I want to be with Natalie, I don’t need that."<br/>
<br/>
That draws a smile out of all that steel. "Glad to hear that."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought Natalie told me that you two, and I quote, ‘broke up’."<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head. "She’s blowing things outta proportion. Yes, I told her I didn’t wanna speak to her, but only while I sort things out. I can’t believe she tried to split me and Braydon apart!"<br/>
<br/>
"She doesn’t understand why you and Braydon are together."<br/>
<br/>
"Nobody does. It just is. She should feel happy for us." Her expression brightens ever so slightly. "Maybe if she understood what it is to be in love, she’d understand why we’re together." She snaps her notebook shut. "Gonna hang out with her this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I also need some time to think."<br/>
<br/>
"Those are the worst words you can tell someone who’s interested in you." She cups her hand and rests her chin on it. "What <i>made</i> you try to break us up?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel uncomfortable with the questioning, but being shady was part of the problem, so you open up. "I guess it was her emotions getting mixed up with mine. Had to take me being in her mind to realize my old girlfriend dumped me ‘cos she thinks I’m immature."<br/>
<br/>
"She thinks it's same with her and me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. So I felt some kinship with her. She feels you dumped her out for Braydon."<br/>
<br/>
She laughs. "Yeah, I figured that out last Friday. But I didn’t dump her—I just have other interests. And I wanted you two to hook up so she’d understand." She cocks a meaningful eyebrow at you. "I didn't realize you two were even better-suited for each other than I thought."<br/>
<br/>
<i>So, she had her own plans too.</i> You feel terrible for your ill-fated plan, but most importantly, for not being Natalie’s support. The least you can do is mend that broken relationship. "Gillian. Can you forgive her? She didn’t mean wrong."<br/>
<br/>
"I still need time. She did something awful to my hubby. I can’t forgive her until she learns that lesson. I don’t have anything against her, just— She needs to grow up."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Grow up.</i> Natalie won’t like that.<br/>
<br/>
"But I’m glad you’re interested in her. You’re what she needs." She taps your hand and rubs it. "Don’t ruin that."<br/>
<br/>
—<br/>
<br/>
Once school’s out, you try texting Natalie once more. <i>hey. wanna hng out?</i><br/>
<br/>
She replies quickly. <i>cant. dad grounded me up. genny askd if u wantd 2 hng out, tho.</i><br/>
<br/>
Right. Genny—Genevieve. The girl that started spreading out that rumor that you two were together. The one that caused Natalie that headache with Alyssa. She’s trying to set you up, just because she probably feels guilty, or she thinks you dumped her—or maybe as a twisted act of revenge? You don’t know with her.<br/>
<br/>
You’re not given enough time to respond when she follows up with <i>shes waiting 4 u @ old state thtr.</i><br/>
<br/>
If this is an act of revenge, perhaps you can turn it into your favor. You could tell Genevieve that you were confused about your feelings with Natalie, try to swat out those feelings she may have for you, while accepting yours.<br/>
<br/>
But that won’t help if Natalie doesn’t know first.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11134322221311112122112122
author_id: rugal
title: Wrapping the Present
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't really know Genevieve—even from the few days you spent in Natalie's mask—and while you appreciate Natalie trying to do what you assume she thinks is a solid for you, you can't really say you're all that interested in meeting with her. Besides, even if you <i>did</i> meet up with her you're not sure if you could actually do anything without clearing all of this stuff with Natalie up first. You want to know where you stand with her and you want to... well, you're not sure. But you know that you want to talk to her before doing anything else. So you text her back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>i'll think about it</i>, is all you send her. That doesn't seem to be a satisfactory answer.<br/>
<br/>
<i>cmon will! i need 2 give her answr!</i><br/>
<br/>
You ponder for a moment but you can only think to be bluntly honest. <i>i'm not intrested today. maybe tmrrw.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>o kay ill tell her.</i><br/>
<br/>
You wait a few minutes but don't receive another message from her.<br/>
<br/>
You head home but you're not there for long after before you start to feel restless and resolve to find Natalie. You leave, telling your mom that a friend messaged you asking you to hang out. You barely hear her response before you're out the door and into your truck. With determination you make your way to Natalie's, where you nervously ring the doorbell. You're greeted by her mother and feel yourself begin to sweat.<br/>
<br/>
"Is... Natalie here?" you ask with tepid nervousness after she greets you and asks what you're looking for. "I'm, uh, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"No she's not," her mother says to your surprise. "Actually, she called to say that she would be home later since she was going to be with some friends after school."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" you reply dumbfounded. "But she told <i>me</i> that she was grounded."<br/>
<br/>
"Grounded? Oh dear, no," replies Natalie's mother with amusement. But she must notice something about you because she adopts a more concerned tone. "Did something happen between the two of you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, not..." You trail off because it's not like you can say anything about the masks or book. But there's a warm and, well, motherly vibe radiating from her. She's far less intense than Natalie's father. So you decide to hedge things. "We just got caught up in something with her friends and, uh, I think our wires got crossed somewhere because we haven't talked for a few days."<br/>
<br/>
"You know, she <i>has</i> been extra mopey all weekend," states Mrs. Dawkins. "Actually, she hadn't mentioned you and all and got very touchy when I asked her, which I certainly found odd seeing as she'd take every opportunity to tell me about you."<br/>
<br/>
That stuns you and you feel a large pit form in your stomach. You <i>definitely</i> need to talk to Natalie now. "I see, thanks," you say simply. "I'll try to get in touch with her again."<br/>
<br/>
You say goodbye and then head back to your truck. As you do, you send another text to Natalie.<br/>
<br/>
<i>i was at ur place. i kno ur not grounded. we need to talk. plz!!!!</i><br/>
<br/>
You're pulling out onto the main round when your phone dings and you pull into the parking lot of a nearby coffee shop to see the message. <i>ok. meet me @ the public library</i>, it says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You look around as you enter the library and figuring that if she's anywhere, it's going to be the tables where people tend to congregate to study, you head over there. Your hunch is proven right when you see her red hair from a mile away. "Hey," you say as slip into the seat beside her.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey yourself," she says though she looks at her phone instead of looking up at you. An awkward silence falls over you before she breaks it. "So you're not interested in Genny?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. It's not like I know her," you answer honestly. But you didn't come here to talk to her about Genevieve. "Look, I'm sorry," you admit. That causes Natalie to finally turn her attention to you.<br/>
<br/>
"For what?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"For leaving you back there on Friday and then blowing you off all weekend."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not <i>your</i> fault," she says to your surprise. "You're pissed at me."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not—"<br/>
<br/>
"I fucked everything up," she continues, "so you're definitely pissed. You and... and Gilly and..."<br/>
<br/>
She starts to sniffle and on instinct you place your hand on her back and rub it. "I'm not pissed at you," you insist. "I was a little upset in the moment, that's true. But really, I just was too stunned by everything that had happened to think straight, I guess. I thought maybe it'd be good to get a little distance and catch my breath but—"<br/>
<br/>
"But I'm just a fuck up, Will!" she cries. "I'm dumb and immature and I just fuck everything up! My best friend hates me now and you totally <i>do</i> hate me, too! I get that you're trying to be nice but..." She trails off and looks up at you and you can see that her eyes are red and wet.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I don't think Gillian hates you. I mean she's upset, but—"<br/>
<br/>
You stop because that seems to get no response. Natalie's understandably upset and you hate seeing her like this. You think back to that conversation you had with Gillian at school and you know that the only way out of this with any sort of relationship intact with Natalie is to be honest. So you gather up the courage and then allow yourself to speak.<br/>
<br/>
"Natalie, I'm not pissed, I'm really not, and I don't hate you, either. In fact," you pause as you pull her in and wrap your arms tightly around her. "I like you, Natalie. Yeah, you're impulsive and pigheaded but you're fun and sweet and being around you has honestly helped make things more enjoyable." You gulp but you know what you have to say next. You've built up too much steam now to just fizzle out. "I want to keep hanging out with you and talking and doing things together and," again you give a nervous pause, "I want you to go out with me."<br/>
<br/>
Natalie pushes back from you and stares at you. Her eyes, still red, are wide and her cheeks look as red as her eyes. She says nothing for a moment before she grabs your shirt collar, yanks you forward and places her lips against yours. The kiss—your first kiss!—is very sloppy and awkward as the two of you fumble around, neither one having a clue as to what you're doing or even when to stop. That only comes when you hear someone loudly clear their throat and break off to see one of the employees glowering at you.<br/>
<br/>
The both of you apologize and decide to head out. Natalie says she'll treat you to some coffee and the two of you head out of the library holding hands.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Unfortunately, your new relationship gets off to a bit of a bumpy start when your dad, unhappy with your grades, doesn't technically ground you but does take away your phone privileges for a week over the whole mess with the report. Turns out that you couldn't even get that D grade. You have to tell Gillian to tell Natalie (against her judgment) about it so that Natalie doesn't think that you're blowing her off.<br/>
<br/>
"At least <i>you're</i> still talking to her," she huffs.<br/>
<br/>
"More than that, actually," you admit. "We kind of agreed to go out. I know you're probably still pissed at her and I wouldn't tell you to talk to her otherwise but, uh, it's  important. I don't want to screw things up with her right out of the gate."<br/>
<br/>
Gillian studies you for a moment and her face breaks into a smirk. "You're right, I'm still pissed at her," she says, "but I'm happy about being right so I'll do you this favor, just this once."<br/>
<br/>
The upshot of asking Gillian to do that is that it ends up starting the thawing out process between her and Natalie.<br/>
<br/>
What also helps is a few weeks later when Gillian shows up to study hall in a somewhat confused state. Braydon, she said, had told her yesterday that he'd gotten an opportunity to "study things" though he was vague about it. Unfortunately it was out of state but he just couldn't pass up a chance like this. Soon after that conversation, he just disappeared. Nobody really knew where and the rumor was that it had something to do with some guys from Eastman's basketball team who also just up and vanished at around the same time.<br/>
<br/>
Gillian tried to maintain a long distance relationship with him but eventually realized it wasn't going to work and at some point the two stopped talking. But Natalie—who, to your surprise, wasn't gloating—was there to offer her a shoulder and things between the two began improving significantly from then on.<br/>
<br/>
As for Natalie, she's mellowed out only a little but you're fine with that. You like her for who she is, after all.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, dating her meant hanging around the comic shop more where you were able to score a part time job helping out Eric. Not quite the job at Salopek your dad had pushed on you months earlier but he was at least glad to see you earning your own money. <i>Welcome to the world of being an adult,</i> he'd said when you told him. <br/>
<br/>
And it's good that you're earning your own money too because Christmas is coming up and you're at the mall with Gillian. Ostensibly, she's looking to get something for the new guy that she started dating only a few weeks ago, but she's also there to help you find something for Natalie. Of course, you don't tell her that Natalie already gave you something—or maybe it's more accurate to say that she <i>took</i> something—last weekend when the two of you had gone out to the Warehouse with friends.<br/>
<br/>
There's been intermingling between your two friend groups since you and Natalie started dating. Genevieve, at one point during that outing, even pulled you aside and asked you to set her up with Carson, claiming that he was "really interesting".<br/>
<br/>
You're also excited because Natalie said she's working on "something big" and wanted to show you stuff from the sketchbook that she closely guards. So as a sign of both gratitude and encouragement, you feel like you should put the money that you've been saving to good use and get your girlfriend something really nice.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Desperate Collector
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The next day, after school, you return to Arnholms. You doubt they'll give you your two bucks back. They might not even take it off your hands if you paid them. But you want to get the book away from your house and person, and since the book thinks you have "claimed" it by trading money for it, you decide to try voiding that claim by selling it.<br/>
<br/>
Ted Arnholm is at his usual work station when you go in, but he's not alone. He's being hectored by a paunchy, middle-aged man with a bad combover and a fleshy mouth framed by a scraggly moustache-goatee combination, and a very animated conversation it is, too. Arnholm's expression suggests his blood pressure is climbing by the second, and his interlocutor looks just as exasperated. Desperate, even.<br/>
<br/>
"But it's for our mutual benefit," the man is pleading. "The gentleman who bought the book will get a handsome price for it, and I'll get a legacy back. How can you stand in the way of a fair trade like that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not standing in the way of anything," says Arnholm truculently. "I'm just protecting our customers' privacy."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not going to try buying it off him yourself, are you?" the toher demands. "By God, sir, to take advantage of me to score an ill-got profit—" <br/>
<br/>
Arnholm's lips peel back. "I don't care for your insinuations—" <br/>
<br/>
"Please forgive me," the other man says, raising his hands. "I withdraw the word 'ill-got.' Indeed, if you wish to approach the gentleman yourself, by all means do so. I'll pay you—" He pauses and licks his lips. "Ten percent over what you pay him for it?"<br/>
<br/>
Arnholm is about to reply when he catches sight of you. His face freezes. The other man's glance follows Arnholm's, and his expression changes to surprise and delight when he sees the book you've got clutched to your chest. Arnholm sighs. "Well, there's no point in arguing anymore, is there?"<br/>
<br/>
You edge up slowly to the two of them. They were talking about you and the book?<br/>
<br/>
"I see you've brought that ... thing ... with you," says Arnholm. "Change your mind about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Excuse us," the other man interrupts. "If I could just talk to the lad." He puts out his hand. "My name is Aubrey Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott," you reply, taking his hand against every instinct. The man is cheerful but somehow odious; and he seems oddly reluctant to let go of your hand, and you have to jerk it back from him.<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Arnholm and I were just discussing that book you have there," he continues. "You see, I am a collector of rare manuscripts and antiques. That book was something I picked up in England a few months back. Unfortunately, as I was explaining to Mr. Arnholm, my assistant accidentally put it in a group of books that I was selling. I only discovered the error this morning and hurried over to retrieve it. But you had already bought it by then." He smiles, and there is something very desperate in his grin. "I should very much like to buy it back from you."<br/>
<br/>
You study Mr. Blackwell before replying. His eyes are dark and his hair—what there is it of it trailing over a chalky white scalp—is lank and greasy. On closer inspection you see that the man is not just paunchy but quite stout. His talk of manuscripts and antiques somehow seems less than truthful; at least, you'd expect a wealthy collector to be dressed in something better than cheap polyester slacks and a black turtleneck. You also don't like the hungry look in his eye. It seems to you that, far from having an antiquary's interest in the book, the man is likely more drawn to its putative "magical" qualities. <br/>
<br/>
"It's not much of a book, is it?" you reply, stalling for time. You show him how the pages won't flip. "I'm not even sure it is a real book."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell gives a short laugh. "Yes, it <i>is</i> a curiosity, isn't it? But I'm not much interested in the book itself. It came from a very old library in the north of England, and I've reason to believe that it belonged to a famous man. I collect such things."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh." You open the book to the title page and study it. "You say it's valuable? I got it for two bucks."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell makes a choking noise, and you look up to see a strangled expression on his face. Arnholm turns very red when Blackwell shoots a furious glance in his direction. But Blackwell masters himself, and turns his choler into a forced laugh.  "Then you struck a terrific bargain, my boy. I will pay you much more than two dollars for it."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? How much?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a cagey look. "A hundred?"<br/>
<br/>
"Now hold on there," interjects Arnholm. "Don't try to cheat the kid. We had it marked as two hundred and twenty-five, and <i>that's</i> without knowing anything about it or its history." He peers narrowly at Blackwell, then turns a shrewd glance on you. "If it's so valuable, <i>I</i> might be interested—"<br/>
<br/>
"Fair enough!" Blackwell exclaims, and throws his hands in the air. "But I've only got a hundred and a few extra bills on me at the moment. If you don't mind waiting, er, Will, for me to find a cash machine—"<br/>
<br/>
"I can wait," you reply, your mouth watering at the prospect of picking up a few hundred bucks. You glance back down at the book. Maybe you can squeeze a little more out of the man if you let him know you have suspicions about the book's nature.<br/>
<br/>
"It's an interesting book even if it's not a real one," you observe as Blackwell starts to turn away. He freezes and looks back at you. "It's in Latin," you continue, "but I did a little translating of what I read. Some of it seems to have been written in invisible ink. It was weird." You run your fingers over the inside cover. "This writing here, for instance, wasn't there when I bought it, and then suddenly it was."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's eyes glitter. "Such an observant lad," he says softly in a way that makes a chill run up your spine. "What would you say to five hundred dollars for it?" Arnholm starts, but doesn't say anything.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd say we have a deal," you reply, and congratulate yourself on your play for more money.<br/>
<br/>
"Not so fast," Blackwell continues. "As I say, you're very observant. I had to fire my last assistant for being so careless with the book. In addition to the five hundred for the book, what would you say to taking a job assisting me with my collection? Ten dollars an hour? For a few hours of after school work?"<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of work?" Ten dollars an hour is very tempting. <br/>
<br/>
"Just cataloguing. Making notes. Have you ever done library work?"<br/>
<br/>
"A little when I was in middle school. Just shelving, mostly."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell smiles. "That would be quite sufficient. It's not hard or complicated for someone who can keep their eyes open."<br/>
<br/>
It sounds like a terrific offer. And yet there is something in the man's manner that sets off all the alarm bells in your head. In fact, maybe you <i>don't</i> want to see him getting the book ...</span></div></div>


path: 1121
author_id: seuzz
title: Prisoners Below
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The fat man beams at your acceptance and hurries off to an ATM. You are extremely pleased to pocket the five hundred, but a little less pleased when he asks you to come to his house this evening for your first work session. He seems desperate, though, for he offers you a fifty dollar bonus for abandoning your evening plans—which are actually non-existent—to start immediately.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You arrive at Professor Blackwell's at a little after six. It's a large stone villa on the outskirts of town, surrounded by a high, white-washed stone wall. It's a handsome place, even though the large yard and garden out front are entirely dead. Indeed, the only living thing to be seen is a yew tree in the far corner, next to a stone shed. <br/>
<br/>
Blackwell is delighted to see you and expostulates over your obvious work ethic; you don't correct him. He leads you through the foyer and into his library. Well, he goes into the library; you stop a few steps in.<br/>
<br/>
It's a huge room, lined on three sides with bookshelves that reach so far up to the high ceiling that its owner has installed a ladder. There is a discordant ticking from the two (!) grandfather clocks in the corner, and an oppressive atmosphere of watchfulness seems to hover over it. Statues of beasts of various types sit in alcoves, and you find you don't want to look too closely at any of them. <br/>
<br/>
Blackwell gestures you over to one of the desks in the room, on which sits a laptop computer and a pile of books. He leans in very close after you are seated at it and explains how to enter information from the books into the database. "Don't worry overly much about getting everything absolutely correct," he says. "I will go over your work after you are done and make corrections. Right now, I just need the fields filled in. And now if you'll excuse me, I have pressing matters elsewhere in the house."<br/>
<br/>
The work is astonishingly easy for the amount of money he is offering, and you are not eager to get through it quickly; there is more money to be made by being slow and methodical. And so you make a great show of being diligent, flipping through the books to be sure that you have all the information he desires correct.<br/>
<br/>
It makes for interesting but creepy reading. Many of the books are in Latin or German; a few, by their scripts, seem to be in Arabic or even Chinese. (These you have to put aside.) But several are in English, and it soon appears that most of them have to do with magic in one way or another.<br/>
<br/>
You are flipping slowly through one of the English-language books when an illustration catches your eye: it shows a book whose cover looks astonishingly like the one that Blackwell just bought from you. You read (once you have penetrated the archaic spelling):<br/>
<br/>
"... the Privy Chancellor asked after the disposition of the book, and the Duke told him he had caused it to be burned with anathemas made over it, and their makeshift council did determine after discussion to make no mention of the matter to His Majesty, as it might enflame relations between the King's suite of German servants and his English ministers. And yet upon the death of the Duke some decades later a catalog was made of his library, and there was found in it a book that the late Chancellor, who as a benefactor to his heir was in attendance, recognized as the <i>Libra,</i> though he was very old. No art could be found that would cause its pages to yield to inspection, and none were willing to make a pact with the devilish spirit that guarded it. It could not be said by any who knew of the matter, when they were consulted, who were very few in number and very old, whether the Duke had spirited the book away to satisfy his own curiosities, and had made any study of it, or whether being intrigued by the design of the book had made a false copy to bemuse visitors with, for the Duke was known for his jests and had an entire suite of humorous devices with which to delight guests. And yet, before the matter could be seen through a great Sickness descended upon the house and the book was not to be found afterward. One of the Duke's trusted servants was later found to have disappeared in the meantime, and it was supposed that—"<br/>
<br/>
Before you can read further, you hear a noise directly behind you, and something closes over your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake to darkness. Well, mostly darkness. A single bare bulb glows dimly from far above. You are laying on hard, cold cement and are thoroughly chilled, for when you sit up you find that you are naked. "The fuck ...?" you mutter aloud.<br/>
<br/>
"Better get used to it," a voice says. You wheel around: a young woman sits on a bed, and you guess from the way she has the sheets drawn up under her chin that she is also naked.<br/>
<br/>
You think you know her. "Cindy?" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head. "Lucy," she says. Then she adds, "I'm Cindy's sister."<br/>
<br/>
Of course: in the dim light it is easy to mistake the gorgeous Lucy Vredenburg for your classmate, Cindy. Easy to mistake them in a lot of ways, for they share the same long platinum-blonde hair and buxom chests. When you were a sophomore you used to fantasize about both of them in equal measure ... <br/>
<br/>
"Where are we?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Professor Blackwell's basement. I don't know why he's collecting us. Well, I can guess why he collected me, but unless he's got <i>really</i> perverted tastes, it can't be why he's added you."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. A magician <i>and</i> a sex maniac?<br/>
<br/>
You look around. Besides the bed there is a chamber pot (which reeks); high up in one wall of the narrow space is a window. A spiral staircase leads up to a door. <br/>
<br/>
You introduce yourself to Lucy and in a stumbling, mumbling way briefly tell what brought you to the house. But she doesn't seem interested. She doesn't even react much when you sit on the edge of the bed with her. In fact, she doesn't speak again until the door above opens with a soft creak. "Try not to scream when he comes in," she says softly. "I don't think my nerves could take it."<br/>
<br/>
What could be so horrible that you might scream? Blackwell in a leather gimp suit? Blackwell not wearing anything, not even a leather gimp suit?<br/>
<br/>
You can't make the figure out too well as it comes down the stairs, except that its clothes look familiar. But when it steps into the light, you get a feeling like a hard fist punching you in the chest.<br/>
<br/>
It's you: the same clothes, the same stiff, straw-like hair, the same long face and squinty eyes. The muscles in your throat work, but no sound comes out.<br/>
<br/>
The imposter purses his lips. "Yo, dude, toss 'em up here." He points to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
You tear your eyes away from the apparition long enough to glance down: your car keys glitter on the floor. Numbly, you pick them up.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't give them to him," Lucy hisses.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, bitch," the imposter says. He turns back to you. "You don't want me coming down there, bro. I can really fuck you up if I want."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?" you finally bleat.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a fake you," Lucy says. Bitterly, she adds, "He's got one of me running around."<br/>
<br/>
The imposter clucks his tongue. "Almost but not quite, my dear. I've only got one golem, and yes, it's out pretending to be you. So until I can make another, I've got to play the part of Will Prescott myself." He turns back to you. "Dude, I'm not kidding. Toss 'em here."<br/>
<br/>
"P- Professor Blackwell?" you gape.<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. "Jesus. One more time, dude, and then I will have to make you my bitch. Toss. Them. Here."<br/>
<br/>
Weakly, you throw the keys up to him, and they clatter on one of the steps below him. He glares at you, and bends over to pick them up. <br/>
<br/>
"You won't fool anyone," you object. It's too late now, but you have to protest somehow.<br/>
<br/>
He gives a tired sigh. "I know everything about you now. I can talk like you and act like you. I know your locker combination, and I know who you fantasize about when you jack off." A malicious gleam comes into his eye. "I might even get lucky with one of them before I get back." He waggles his eyebrows lasciviously, and goes back up the stairs. <br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell!" you shout, but he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's not much to your cell. It is very narrow, maybe only eight feet across, but quite long. The floor is of unsmoothed concrete; the walls are of cinderblock up to eye level before turning to brick. They are featureless and show no sign of hiding any secret passages. Everything else in the room you saw last night: the bed, the chamber pot, the stair case. The latter stirs your curiosity, in morbid kind of way. Every time you draw close to it feelings of dread close over you. You make a test of it, trying to climb toward the only visible door, but you can only get halfway to the top before you sink down with a kind of numb horror washing over you.<br/>
<br/>
You turn to Lucy. "How long have you been here?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs. "A week or more, I think."<br/>
<br/>
"Does he say anything about what he wants? What's so special about us?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs. "I assume he wants a double of me to ... to play with. Why he wants you, I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
You can at least make a guess: He wants the book that you bought, and he wants to get rid of you because you know too much about it.<br/>
<br/>
But why would he want to impersonate you? Unless—<br/>
<br/>
You gulp.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Your family.</i></span></div></div>


path: 11211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Great Escape
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Help me lift the bed," you tell Lucy. She looks at you like you're crazy. "Look, you wanna get out or not?" You don't have time for her modesty, and rip the sheet off her and pull her from the bed.<br/>
<br/>
That seems to rouse her, and though she isn't enthusiastic, she does help you lift the frame and lean it upright on the wall under the window. It doesn't appear to be strong, but it only has to be strong enough. You climb up and balance on it, which brings the windowsill to the level of your chest. Unfortunately, it opens at the top, and when you pull it you find it opens by only a few inches: not enough to squeeze through even if you could get atop it. "Hand me the pillow," you order her as you close it again.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Bust us out of here." You grit your teeth, grab onto the window frame with your free hand, and with the other punch hard at the window, using the pillow as a cushion. The bed groans threateningly, but after three hard blows the window shatters. You use the pillow to clean as much glass out of the frame as you can. "Mind the shards," you call below, as you hear the tinkle of glass falling back into the basement.<br/>
<br/>
Now comes the horrible part. You have her hand you the sheet, and you wrap it around yourself as best you can. The window is narrow; for the first time in your high school career you are glad you are narrow-shouldered and skinny. You wriggle through carefully, worming your way onto the dirt that comes right up to the windowsill. You don't feel any punctures, but that doesn't mean you aren't cutting yourself all over.<br/>
<br/>
Finally you are free and look back down into the basement. "Think you can make it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd rather try the stairs."<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on."<br/>
<br/>
Treading carefully on your bare feet, you trot around to the other side of the house and to the stone shed you saw earlier. It gleams faintly in the deepening dusk, and you shiver when you realize that it's actually a mausoleum. The door is unlocked, and you feel around, shuddering when your hand brushes over a dusty bier. But luck is with you: Blackwell apparently does use it as some kind of storeroom, for you are able to lay hands on a crowbar. Back at the basement window you have to work long and hard, but you manage to bust the window completely out of its frame, giving Lucy a safe, wide exit. <br/>
<br/>
You both retreat to the darkened front porch, where there is less chance of hurting your bare bodies, and take stock: two naked people, replaced by evil duplicates, at the house of a magician. "You feel up for a little light burglary?" you grin at her. <br/>
<br/>
"It's your adventure," she says. "I'm just along for the ride." You try the front door, and are surprised to find that Blackwell has left it unlocked. "This place is even creepier when he's not around," Lucy says as you step into the foyer.<br/>
<br/>
She's right, but it must just be nerves. "First, let's get cleaned up and get some clothes," you say. "They'll fall off us, but I'm sure you'll feel better even dressed up like a hot air balloon." You run upstairs and look behind all the doors until you find Blackwell's bedroom. In his private bath you examine yourself in the mirror: only superficial cuts, it appears, easily cleaned. "Will you stop making noise?" you call to her in the bedroom. "He's not here, but still."<br/>
<br/>
"I was about to tell you the same thing," she retorts. <br/>
<br/>
You return to the bedroom to argue, but forget it all when you find her dressed up ridiculously in too-voluminous trousers  and draped with a shirt that is more like a poncho on her slim frame. But you can't criticize her fashion sense after pulling on some of his clothes yourself. "Cool! Wallet and keys!" you exclaim as you scoop them up from the nightstand. "Come on, let's see what else we can lift."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just get out of here," she says nervously. "This place is making weird noises." As she speaks, the ceiling groans and creaks. You both look up at it.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't suppose he has, like, a crazy wife up in the attic, do you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to find out," she shudders.<br/>
<br/>
"No, let's see what else we can raid." You pocket a cell phone that sits on the dresser.<br/>
<br/>
Out in the hallway you turn on the light, but it glows only feebly. At the other end of the hallway is a small staircase leading up. She clutches you with one hand as she holds up her pants with the other, and tries to tug you back as you climb them. There is nothing at the top except an open door; turning on the light reveals it is some kind of workroom. <br/>
<br/>
"Fucking A, jackpot," you murmur. On the work table are two objects that look like masks. "I bet these are the things he's using to duplicate people."<br/>
<br/>
"Leave them alone," she implores.<br/>
<br/>
"No, these could be useful. I mean, he's got doubles of us out there. We may need disguises of our own. Here." You hand one to her. "Now, what else have we got?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?!" she exclaims, and clutches at you. From downstairs comes a flurry of hard rapping sounds. <br/>
<br/>
"He's back?" you suggest. "Come on, we'll get the jump on him."<br/>
<br/>
As reluctant as she was to go upstairs, she is even more reluctant to go down again. But the hallway is empty. Slowly you creep along, being careful to not fully put your backs to any of the bedroom doors. "Did we turn on all the downstairs lights?" you ask: lights are flooding up the main staircase. She shakes her head.<br/>
<br/>
At the head of the staircase you look down into the first floor. Lights blaze up, but it is empty. As you puzzle over this, you feel Lucy tightly grip your arm. You turn, and see her staring back into the upstairs hallway with an expression of sheer terror. You follow her gaze.<br/>
<br/>
The hall is empty, but along each wall long shadows stretch, like arms unfolding toward you. They end in grasping hands. You've just time to register that one of the hands has six fingers before you grab Lucy and hurl yourselves downstairs, out the door and along the walk until you are panting outside the front gate.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"At least we've got wheels," you say, trying to replace the horror of the house with a sense of optimism. "Where to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Home?" she says hopefully.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "You heard what he said. He can fool our families perfectly. I mean, if we have to, we can challenge them to a game of 'Spot the Imposter,' but I'd rather take him out quietly."<br/>
<br/>
"That's dumb. We should just go to the police."<br/>
<br/>
"Why, you want to become a CIA test subject or something? This is some fucked up shit he's dealing with, and if government agencies get involved, who knows what they'll do to us."<br/>
<br/>
"You've been watching too many Bourne movies," she retorts, but doesn't argue further.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I know," you say turning the key in the ignition of Blackwell's car. "I've got a hiding place we can hang out at."<br/>
<br/>
"So do I."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we should go to mine."<br/>
<br/>
"Why? He knows about it, so it can't be much of a hiding place."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he knows about yours, too."<br/>
<br/>
"But he's inside <i>your</i> head. He's got some other ... thing ... pretending to be me."</span></div></div>


path: 112112
author_id: seuzz
title: Lockpick Lucy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Okay, move the car around the corner and wait there," she says. "I have make a phone call before we can get in. Just wait here until I give the all clear." She shoves a finger into your face. "And after I get us in I don't want any smart comments. Not. One. Word."<br/>
<br/>
Jesus, what has she got in mind?<br/>
<br/>
But you do as she orders, and move the car to the far side of the Westside High School parking lot. And you wait in it, feeling both anxious and bored, for almost twenty minutes before you see another car pull into the lot. You strain to look through the night time dark: Holy fuck, it's Steve Patterson's car. As you watch, the basketball player gets out and lopes over to greet and embrace ... <i>Has Lucy taken all her clothes off again?</i><br/>
<br/>
You gape as Patterson puts his arm around her, and unlocks the side door to the gym. They both pass inside.<br/>
<br/>
You are both aroused and infuriated by the sight. Everyone at Westside knows about the "Fuck Room" that the alpha guys have up above the gym—a perk provided by the coach for his star players. So that's Lucy's proposed hiding place; and since she didn't have a key, she had to use other means to get inside.<br/>
<br/>
You don't have long to stew, though, before another car pulls in. <i>How many guys did she call?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
But it's not a guy who gets out of this SUV. You jerk in surprise: It's Lucy Vredenburg. Scratch that. It's her double.<br/>
<br/>
You nervously drum your fingers on the wheel, trying to work up the nerve to take advantage of this unexpected opportunity. Finally, you just leap from the car before she can disappear and go to the trunk, from which you draw a tire iron.<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a queer look as you walk up to her. "Steve?" she says uncertainly, then draws back as you step into the light.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, so you're here to gloat too, huh?" you say bitterly. "No, he just ran out to get some more of his 'friends'." She looks over in puzzlement at his car, so you speak quickly. "Jesus, I knew you were a cunt, Lucy, but I didn't know you were part of his posse."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you talking about," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Like you don't know. Just a little ritual humiliation. I'm supposed to wait here till they get back, so they can their fun with a lot of spectators."<br/>
<br/>
She blinks. "If you're here alone, why don't you just run away, you moron?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be stupid. You know what they'd do to me if I did that."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're just going to stand here and wait for them like a good little faggot," she sneers. "God, you're a pussy." She turns her back on you.<br/>
<br/>
That's the chance you'd been waiting for. You'd actually been hesitating, wondering if maybe this wasn't the real Lucy, and that Blackwell had stuck you with a fake, but after what she just said you don't care. You hit her hard across the back of the head and drag her limp form back to Blackwell's car and lock her in the trunk.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So let me get this straight," you tell Lucy after Patterson has swaggered off and she's summoned you back to the now-open gym door. "We could have gone to my hiding place, but you preferred to fuck your way into this one."<br/>
<br/>
She hits you so hard you taste blood.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe if you're nice to me, you could let me give you something too?"<br/>
<br/>
She hits you again.<br/>
<br/>
"Like, give you your life back?"<br/>
<br/>
She pauses with her fist drawn back. You nod over to her SUV, which she seems to see for the first time. Then she looks numbly down at the clothes you hold out to her. "Where did you get these?" she asks suspiciously.<br/>
<br/>
You open the trunk to Blackwell's car, disclosing a grayish slab of stone. "Off this thing. It's called a golem. Blackwell made it, and it's been walking around with your face, doing his bidding."<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"As near as I can tell," you explain, "after you called Patterson he tried calling you back. Of course, he got the fake Lucy. She came out here to see what was going on. I cocked her from behind while Patterson was cocking you from in front." You duck, even though she hasn't swung. "And then I didn't have anything to do—how many times did Steve fuck you, you were up there forever—" This time she does catch you in the jaw. "So I played around with those masks we got from the house. This one—" You take out one of the masks and point to the lettering that floats on its inner surface. "This one is a copy of Blackwell himself. I've been inside his head, Lucy, just like he's been inside mine. And like he's been inside yours."<br/>
<br/>
She swallows.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, from wearing it, I've got a pretty good idea of what's going on."<br/>
<br/>
"And what's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's these masks. He's got plans to use them. Well, lots of plans, and he hasn't settled on one yet. He's waiting until he's got the book figured out, inside and out."<br/>
<br/>
"What book?"<br/>
<br/>
You tell her about the <i>Libras Personas</i> and how you came to be mixed up in things. You also describe the masks and their workings as best you can: now that you are outside of Blackwell's body and mind your memory of what you learned there is beginning to slip away. <br/>
<br/>
She's quite impressed with what you have to tell her, and doesn't smack you anymore, even as you continue to allude to her sluttish ways. "So what should we do now?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we can't let this golem go back to being you, can we? Seems to me that someone needs to step back into Lucy Vredenburg's life. You're the obvious candidate, being Lucy Vredenburg and all. But ..." You pick up and finger the mask you took off the golem. "Thanks to this mask here, it doesn't have to be you."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want you inside my body, in any way, shape or form," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I understand. But you have to know that the whole point of going back would be to trap Blackwell. You'd have to pretend to be his servant and his slave, up until the point that we can lure him into a trap."<br/>
<br/>
"Why can't we just call him right now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because he's pretending to be me, and he hasn't contacted Lucy—the fake Lucy—yet. It would be a dead giveaway if you called him first."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know he hasn't contacted, uh, the fake me?"<br/>
<br/>
You open your mouth, and freeze. <br/>
<br/>
Her eyes widen and then narrow. "You put on the mask of me, didn't you?" she says through gritted teeth.<br/>
<br/>
"Just long enough to see what was going on. I had to!"<br/>
<br/>
"You fucking pervert!" This time she swings so hard she actually knocks you to the ground. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, look at it this way," you mumble. "Now you can let me pretend to be you without worrying about what I'll see or know or touch. Because I already have."<br/>
<br/>
She gives a furious shriek. "Fine! Do what you like!"</span></div></div>


path: 1121122
author_id: seuzz
title: Role Reversal
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As much as you'd like to wear her form again, it seems like a better idea to keep her in good humor. "It might be dangerous, but you should do it," you tell her. "Anyway, one Lucy Vredenburg is enough to have running around," you add under your breath. She glares at you.<br/>
<br/>
After she's changed—which involves briefly donning the mask of herself, so she can recover her "memories" of the past few days—and goes back home, you reflect on what you should do. Blackwell's gwarcheidwad, the "guardian" that prowls his house, is bad enough in the late evenings. After midnight, which it now is, it is downright deadly. That rules out Blackwell's house as a place to crash; you also don't want to go to your own "clubhouse"—the basement of the deserted elementary school near your house—for fear of running into Blackwell unawares. The safest place, then, is the school.<br/>
<br/>
You go inside, feel your way to your gym locker, and change into your own workout clothes. Lucy has left the loft over the weight room unlocked, and with a groan of exhaustion you throw yourself onto a smelly gym mat and fall asleep.<br/>
<br/>
You'd intended to wake early, but strong morning light is streaming in when you open your eyes. You jump up in a panic and look out: cars are already beginning to fill the parking lot. Luckily, you slip out of the gym and back to Blackwell's car before any of the jocks can corner you.<br/>
<br/>
But here's another puzzle: You've no idea how long Blackwell intended to play the part of Will Prescott, or what he intended to do during his time as you. He has the <i>Libras</i> and has probably unlocked another spell; who knows what nastiness it contains. He might skip school and go back to his own house to prepare the new spell; on the other hand, he might choose to hide out as you, using the "clubhouse" as a nearby place to prepare another golem so he can safely get <i>you</i> out of his hair.<br/>
<br/>
On a hunch that you might catch him at the latter, you drive out there. You find the padlock you put on the basement's outside door still hanging there; you use the tire iron as a crowbar to pry it off, and find nothing inside to indicate that he has been there. And then you curse yourself: With the lock twisted off, he'll know the clubhouse is no longer secure and avoid it. That eliminates one place you might have easily caught him.<br/>
<br/>
So you rush back to his house. The door is closed, and inside everything appears to be undisturbed. You put on Blackwell's own mask, hoping to spot any signs that he has been by. But it has been several days since Blackwell wore the mask, and so your "memories" as you look through his eyes are no help. Except ...<br/>
<br/>
He had one more mask, one that was half-polished when he last donned his own mask. It wasn't in the workroom last night, so either it is still in the house—another useful acquisition—or he has it. You search everyplace you can think of and don't find it. You can only grimly conclude that he in fact did stop by the house, found you and Lucy missing, and took that mask with him when he fled.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Has he called you?" you ask Lucy. <br/>
<br/>
"Not a word," she says, shaking her head.<br/>
<br/>
You lean back and gaze out the window. You are wearing Blackwell's form and sitting in his office. It seemed best to put yourself in public where he can't get to you; and, anyway, he almost certainly knows you have his mask and one other.<br/>
<br/>
"That's unfortunate," you say. "It probably means he's not sure of you anymore. He knows we have his cell phone and access to everything he knows. He probably figures the first thing we did was get rid of his golem." You grimace. "Which <i>is</i> the first thing we should have done instead of—"<br/>
<br/>
"No wisecracks about last night," she warns. "You may look like one of my professors, but the door's closed and I <i>will</i> hit you."<br/>
<br/>
"I was going to say 'instead of running around in a panic,' but I think that covers what happened last night quite adequately." She glowers. "Anyway, it means we don't have any natural or obvious way of trapping him."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
You steeple your fingers; you are so soaked in Blackwell's personality that it is easier to assume his mannerisms and mode of speaking than to fight them. "Well, he won't be back to his house. I'm reasonably sure he's been there already and recovered whatever he thinks he needs. I made an inventory, and there are some, ah, tools missing from their usual place." You begin to tick off fingers. "Thanks to my ham-handed investigation we can also rule out my hiding place as one of his haunts. He knows it would be very foolish to go to yours. His only option, I think, short of running off, is to stick very close to where he is, surrounding himself with friends and family."<br/>
<br/>
"Why can't we just go in and grab him, then?"<br/>
<br/>
"We have no authority to do that, in any of our guises. We can't lure him out, either. We have to get close to him and grab him. And quickly, before he finds a new hiding place."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't understand."<br/>
<br/>
"He has a nearly completed mask, and no scruples. He may simply kill someone and assume their identity. He has the book, so he can make new masks, for further shifts after that. He will find a position in which he can make golems. Given ... oh, let us say, three or four slaves in appropriate guises he would be able to strike back at us with a high probability of success. We are, after all, only two."<br/>
<br/>
Lucy turns pale. "He could get Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
"He'd have an easier time getting my own brother or parents, if we're going to start worrying about family, but your point is well taken."<br/>
<br/>
"So what should we do?"</span></div></div>


path: 11211221
author_id: seuzz
title: An Offer You Shouldn't Refuse
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"We've got his brain and his library," you say. "Perhaps we should try using them."<br/>
<br/>
You cancel the rest of Blackwell's classes for the day and go back to his house. It is marginally less creepy during the daylight hours, and anyway, you've got his reflexes to keep you calm. You sit in the library and look around.<br/>
<br/>
The trouble is that there are too many places to start, none of them obvious. Blackwell has never messed with anything so complex as the <i>Libras</i> before; you intuit that he has been severely daunted by it. The man knows an enormous amount, but his own repertoire of tricks is mostly limited to nasty little things like hexes and curses; he can cast temporary forms of influence over people, but he is not an illusionist or alchemist, and certainly the more complex methods of bending matter are entirely beyond him. That is one reason he was so eager to lay his hands on the <i>Libras</i>: it would be like a 17th century scientist getting his hands on the designs for a nuclear bomb. However far it is beyond his abilities or comprehension, he hopes that close and sustained study of it will yield up great secrets. <br/>
<br/>
So the best you can do, as the afternoon turns into the evening, is to find some spells that might cast some form of protection over you and Lucy. Tomorrow you <i>will</i> have to find some way to begin closing a noose around him.<br/>
<br/>
And then, unbidden, he steps into your web.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Shortly before nine, you hear the front door open. It can't be Lucy: she would have called. So you are both surprised and not surprised when around the corner steps a familiar face: your own.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't look haggard, exactly, but he does look grim. You wonder if he feels as hunted as you did. It can't be fun, feeling sure that a prodigious intellect like his own is bent upon finding and dealing with him. Or maybe he found that the book's spells were not as helpful as he might have hoped.<br/>
<br/>
"This is an unexpected pleasure," you say, keeping very still and watching him carefully. No matter that he looks like a lanky and uncertain teenager, you know he's a very dangerous man.<br/>
<br/>
"Congrats on getting out," he says, and you hope he's the one responsible for the slightly nasal whine in his voice, that it isn't a feature of your own body. "I shouldn't have been so nice as to leave a bed down there."<br/>
<br/>
"Or a window. And what ugliness do you have planned for tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
He raises his hand. "Pax, okay? I didn't have to come, but I thought I'd give you one last chance."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not the type to offer last chances."<br/>
<br/>
"Just hear me out." He licks his lips. "If this goes on, one of us is going to get killed."<br/>
<br/>
"That's likely. Certainly, even."<br/>
<br/>
"And that would be a huge waste. Let's stop before it gets that far. Reach a compromise."<br/>
<br/>
You lean back and appraise him shrewdly. "If you thought you stood a chance of winning, you wouldn't make an offer. Unless the offer is a trap to help you win. On the other hand, if you thought you didn't stand a chance of winning, why should I accept your offer?" You raise your eyebrows. "You're a chess player, not a poker player. I can see through you."<br/>
<br/>
"No you can't," he snaps. "Because I know two things you don't."<br/>
<br/>
"And they have you so spooked you'll come begging for a compromise? I like my odds more and more."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," he says. Interesting. Just as you are finding it easier to lapse into Blackwell's mannerisms, he is finding it easier to lapse into yours. <br/>
<br/>
He regains his composure. "The first thing," he says, "is that I've already got another mask and a way of using it. Once I'm out that door, you'll never see me again until it's too late for you."<br/>
<br/>
"I figured as much. So why offer a compromise?"<br/>
<br/>
He holds up a card: a complex symbol glows on its surface. "You see this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. It's a metamorphic sigil. Very high level stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. You shouldn't even be able to see it. It's the kind of sigil that hides itself."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm looking at the world through your eyes, Professor. I should be able to see it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, maybe that's why you can see it. But I had an interesting talk with your dad last night. Don't worry," he adds as you jump a little. "He's okay. Everyone's okay. For the moment." His lips twitch. "The point is, I had an interesting talk about your family history. What do you know about the Shabblemans?"<br/>
<br/>
You think. "They're some kind of distant cousins of mine. Inbred hillbilly weirdos, if you want my opinion." Something else in the name rings a bell. "The <i>Libras</i> used to belong to someone named Shabbleman. Well, that was her maiden name. You stole it from her estate."<br/>
<br/>
He nods sardonically. "And you know what that makes me think."<br/>
<br/>
You suck on a stray bit of moustache. "Absurd. Well, you wouldn't think it absurd, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"The book is trying to find you. Or something is forcing it toward you. That and the fact that you can see this sigil—" he indicates the card again. "I think you have a lot of innate magical talent."<br/>
<br/>
"You would think that, wouldn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I want to strike a bargain. Instead of fighting each other, let's work together. Join forces."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
He smiles faintly. "Whatever you want. You can start as my adept. But I'll grudgingly confess I will end as yours."<br/>
<br/>
You let the moment play out maliciously before stabbing it. "Ludicrous. How soon before one of us—almost certainly you—double-crosses the other?"<br/>
<br/>
"There are ways of preventing that." He holds up another sigil.<br/>
<br/>
You rear back. "You cannot be in earnest."<br/>
<br/>
"Absolutely. Mutual assured destruction, they call it."<br/>
<br/>
"That's one name for it. 'Shotgun wedding' is another."</span></div></div>


path: 112112211
author_id: seuzz
title: Blood Brothers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Arranging the spell is tricky: First he has to disencumber himself of your mask so you can draw the sigil on the underside of his forearm. Then he has to write out the incantation while you are still wearing his mask so you can verify its authenticity. Only when that is done do you revert to your own original form so he can draw the sigil on your forearm.<br/>
<br/>
"Ready?" he says when it is all done. You nod unhappily. You still don't like this much.<br/>
<br/>
You clasp hands so that the sigils touch and murmur the words in tandem. Thrice over you have to repeat them, and then the burning begins. Smoke pours out from between your clasped arms. "Hang on," he urges. "Don't let go." But his arm trembles as much as yours. <br/>
<br/>
Your bare arms glow redly, and the veins, arteries and capillaries stand out as though filled with fire. And then—blessed relief—the fire pain quickly goes out. You release each other.<br/>
<br/>
"So we're magical blood brothers now," you say sardonically.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. If one of us dies, so does the other." His smile is unpleasant, though he probably doesn't mean it to be. "You and I are going to become very solicitous of each other's health."<br/>
<br/>
"True. No offense, but I think I got the shorter end of the stick. Think you could lose some weight?"<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces. "I am not entirely certain of how the masks work," he says, "but that is one reason I wanted to investigate them. I have reason to believe that wearing one will arrest all health issues."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Then let's find you some health fanatic you can be."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't think I'm following a train of thought there," he says, "but what is the disposition of Miss Vredenburg?"<br/>
<br/>
You blood chills. "She's at home. We got rid of your golem."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought as much. There's no reason to harm her, of course, so please put that idea out of your head. My question is, what do you intend to tell her? She won't like this."<br/>
<br/>
You'd forgotten about Lucy. "I suppose we have to tell her the truth."<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose. But it might be easier if we staged my death and got me a new situation."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1121122112
author_id: imaj
title: Ok, so I don't actually like Lucy that much...
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You rub the back of your head thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
“You’ve been inside her head,” you ask.  Blackwell nods by way of an answer before you continue.  “How do you think she’s going to feel when I tell her we kissed and made up?”<br/>
<br/>
“I doubt the young lady will be happy Will,” rumbles Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
“On the other hand,” you muse.  “She is a bit of a bitch.”<br/>
<br/>
“Language Will,” interrupts Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, ok,” you say, rolling your eyes.  “Let’s just say I don’t particularly like her then and what he doesn’t know wont hurt her.  The problem is, she’s going to need proof that you’re dead.”<br/>
<br/>
“A golem will suffice,” says Blackwell, waving his hand dismissively.<br/>
<br/>
“But she knows about golems, so she’s going to want to make sure it isn’t one.  Try to pull its mask off, that sort of thing.”<br/>
<br/>
“There are ways around such a problem,” smirks Blackwell.  “A simple mesmerism could make her believe she tried and failed to remove a mask.”<br/>
<br/>
“And what about all this,” you ask, gesturing at the library around you.  “What’s going to happen to your collection once you are ‘dead’.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah Will,” sighs Blackwell.  “Lucy is the only person we need to convince.  It could be anybody.  Ha, any body.  So long as we can reveal to Lucy that it was that dastard, and may I add dashingly handsome, Aubrey Blackwell behind the mask.”<br/>
<br/>
“I suppose…”<br/>
<br/>
“In fact, right now Lucy believes I’m wearing a mask of you.  I was rather thinking it’d be your death that was being faked too.  You must admit there is a pleasing symmetry.”<br/>
<br/>
“The fuck?”<br/>
<br/>
“Language Will,” exclaims Blackwell.  “Besides, I have, as you put it ‘been inside’ your head too.  Is it really a life you are so keen to go back to, when you could be anyone you wanted with the <i>Libras</i>?”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11211221121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Crafters of Lives
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You grimace tightly. "You tried stealing my life. I didn't like it." You hold his eyes. "I don't want to steal somebody else's."<br/>
<br/>
He looks amused. "I wouldn't ask you to, dear boy. You would only have to—" He stops and sighs. "Well, let me demonstrate what I mean in my own case, and then perhaps you will change your mind.<br/>
<br/>
"I had only experimented with a few spells early in the book before it ... ah ... went wandering," he continues. "Some of the later ones can be misused to very nasty effect. But the early spells can be quite innocuous. The most basic from of mask spell allows you to copy images of other people without harming them."<br/>
<br/>
"And then you get rid of those people," you interrupt. "Like you tried to get rid of—"<br/>
<br/>
"Will you stop plucking that string?" he interrupts your interruption. "Yes, you <i>can</i> do that, but you don't have to. The spell actually allows you to put multiple images into a mask, which will have the effect of merging them into a new visage. With it you can create an entirely new person and assume <i>that</i> form."<br/>
<br/>
Out of habit by this point you open your mouth to object, and find that there is nothing to say. "You mean," you finally say, slowly, "you mean you'd <i>make a new person</i> to be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," he says with a smile. "A new identify for me, one that does not involve replacing anyone."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that could work," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Thank you for the vote of confidence. I was going to suggest you join me by crafting a second identity for yourself, but perhaps it would be best if, for the time being, you remained in your present life. After I am ensconced in a new life, we <i>might</i> think about getting you a new one."<br/>
<br/>
"By faking my death?"<br/>
<br/>
He waves his hand dismissively. "Or by putting a golem in for you. There's no reason to cause your near and dear to miss you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hmmmm. There might be something in that.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So how do we go about getting these images for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I already have a new mask," he says, clasping his hands behind his back in the manner of a lecturer. "You take it and quietly get images into it. You'd have to press it against their faces, but I can give you instruments that will make them unlikely to resist."<br/>
<br/>
"Whose images do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
A cunning look crosses his face. "I'll leave that to you. I only impose one condition."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"After we have the image created, <i>you</i> must adopt and use it, for a week at least."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>What?!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"When children share a cake, one of them cuts it and the other chooses the half he will take," Blackwell says admonishingly. "It's the same principle. You'll pick out nice faces and bodies if you know you'll have to live inside them for awhile. Besides," he adds with a chuckle, "you may wish to take 'vacations' from your own life inside this new identity. So you really should pick something you'll like."<br/>
<br/>
There is a longer and more tedious conversation after that, one that ends with Blackwell putting the mask of you back on and returning to your house as "Will Prescott" while you remain as "Aubrey Blackwell." "It's for Lucy's sake," he explains. "Or rather, for your peace of mind. She thinks you are pretending to me and that I am pretending to be you. You won't have to worry that I'll take advantage of her ignorance as to how things truly stand between us."<br/>
<br/>
Actually, his having mentioned it so baldly has the effect of making you <i>more</i> uneasy.<br/>
<br/>
"Besides," he continues, oblivious to the effect he's having, "it will be easier for you, as Professor Aubrey Blackwell, to collect images of his college students than it will be for Will Prescott to capture images of his high school classmates." He is wearing your own face by now, and he smirks. "You're not really very popular, dude."<br/>
<br/>
You'd like to hit him, but he's right.<br/>
<br/>
The main question you have to ponder after he is gone—for he left the decision to you with a shrug; "I am indifferent; you choose as you like"—is whether you want this new identity for Blackwell to be male or female.</span></div></div>


path: 11211221122
author_id: imaj
title: Didn't want that life anyway
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>He does have a point, what do you have t show for your life?  You’re not exactly popular, don’t have many friends.  You get bullied at school and if you were being completely honest, you aren’t exactly very clever either.<br/>
<br/>
You can think of several people you’d much rather be, and that’s just if you limit it to the people from your school.<br/>
<br/>
“You have a point,” you admit, more grudgingly than you should.<br/>
<br/>
“Exactly my boy,” grins Blackwell.  “And besides, I think you’ll like who I have picked out.”<br/>
<br/>
“Picked out,” you stutter.<br/>
<br/>
“Remember Will, I did say I had another mask ready.  I had, shall we say planted, a little something in the thoughts of an acquaintance of yours.  It’s a simple trick, a trigger word that makes someone suggestible.  One phonecall and they’ll be here within an hour.  You could literally walk out into a new life tonight.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who is it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’d hate to spoil the surprise Will.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, so what about the rest the plan then?”<br/>
<br/>
“Simplicity itself my boy:  A golem, wearing my mask of you meets its unfortunate end.  Gets run over on the street somewhere, some such accident.  I call Lucy, pretending to be you pretending to be me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wait, what?  I don’t get it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Let me make it simpler,” sighs Blackwell impatiently.  “Lucy thinks you are pretending to be me right now.  So If I call her, she’ll think it is actually you calling here.”<br/>
<br/>
You get it now.  Maybe.<br/>
<br/>
“We break into the morgue where the body is being kept.  I then remove the mask from the fallen golem.  Mesmerising Lucy, I exchange it for the mask of myself, so as far as she can tell it was me behind the mask on the golem.”<br/>
<br/>
“Um…” you begin, unsure if you’re right or not.  “But we don’t have a golem.  It’s in the trunk of Lucy’s SUV.”<br/>
<br/>
“A problem that is easily overcome Will,” scoffs Blackwell.  “All we need is some graveyard earth.  Not even that much, not with the latest spell in the Libras.”<br/>
<br/>
“Graveyard earth,” you reply flatly.  “You mean like dirt from a cemetery?  Where the hell are we going to get that?”<br/>
<br/>
“Take a look out the window Will.”<br/>
<br/>
One side of the library is given over to a large set of windows that overlook Blackwell’s back yard.  You trudge over and take a look.  It’s dark outside now and raining heavily too.  In the gloom you can make out the dark shape of a small building at the very back of the grounds.<br/>
<br/>
“What is that?”<br/>
<br/>
“A crypt, used by the family that built my house originally.  It’s quite serviceable for the spell.  How do you think I made my first golem?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s raining out there.  We’re not seriously going to go out and get the earth now?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” replies Blackwell.  “<i>We</i> aren’t.  <i>You</i> are.  I have a phonecall to make.  You’ll find a shovel and sack by the back door.  Come back in once you’ve filled it.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
 Half an hour later, soaked to the bone, you haul the heavy sack over your shoulder and make your way back inside.  As you push the back door and move into the kitchen you can hear Blackwell’s voice talking to, no instructing, someone in the library.<br/>
<br/>
Heading up the stairs, it’s clear that whoever is in the library with Blackwell is following his instructions without question.  That trigger word he mentioned earlier maybe?<br/>
<br/>
You give the door to the library a gentle kick to open it.  Wet dirt spills across the hardwood floor of the library as you drop the sack.<br/>
<br/>
“Got your dirt,” you say looking upwards.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell fusses over his guest, a polished mask in his hand.  Sitting in a chair, their mouth slack and their eyes glazed over you recognize one of your classmates.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112112211221
author_id: seuzz
title: It's Chelsea Cooper
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You aren't just startled to see Chelsea Cooper sitting next to Aubrey Blackwell, you are flabbergasted. Chelsea Cooper, head cheerleader and the most beautiful girl in school (though no guy says so aloud for fear her boyfriend will knock his teeth in). The most popular girl in school (because no one is brave enough to gainsay her claim to the title). The queen bee over the entire school's social life (because Roman empresses and Russian czarinas look like slackers next to her). In terms of beauty, popularity, and raw social power (not to mention gender) she exists at the other end of all the most important poles in high school.<br/>
<br/>
(Only in brain power might you exceed her, but no one at Westside who matters cares about that.)<br/>
<br/>
"Is that for me?" you find yourself croaking.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's smile gleams in the gloom. "If you will have her."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow hard, nod almost without thinking to, and Blackwell turns to Chelsea. "Off with your clothes, Chelsea dear." Numbly, without paying any attention to anything else in the room, Chelsea fumbles at her blouse.<br/>
<br/>
"As for you, please take the earth down into the secret room," the magician says to you. "Don't forget the amulet," he adds as you pick the sack back up and stagger over to the secret door.<br/>
<br/>
It's hard getting the heavy sack down the spiral staircase, especially as the amulet only dampens the effect of the Watcher without nullifying it completely. You are trembling from fear, exertion, and anticipation when you reappear in the study. <br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's back is to you, so you only see the nimbus of her golden hair as Blackwell, with a smile, hands you a pile of clothes, balanced atop which is a mask. "You'll want some privacy," he says with gloating voice. "You can take them upstairs while I deal with the original."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do with her?" you ask in alarm. It suddenly occurs to you that in all the haste about getting you a new situation, you'd neglected to ask how the original person you'd be replacing would be dealt with. But Blackwell only snickers.<br/>
<br/>
"Leave that to me," he says. <br/>
<br/>
You feel a knot in your stomach as you mount the staircase to the second floor and its bedrooms. Your anxiety is due less to your horror at the fate that presumably awaits Chelsea than to the fact that you can't quite concentrate on that fate: each time you think about what is going to happen to her, you are distracted by images of her voluptuous body and by an engorging lust to possess it, to wear it, to <i>become</i> her. You are shaking very violently by the time you close the door to the first guest bedroom, and you feel you are on autopilot, that your hands are not your own, as you lay back on the bed and drop the mask onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are surrounded by warmth, and then <i>she</i> comes. You can't see her, of course, but she is there. She looks around, and you can sense that she is looking through you and into you, into every crevice of your mind and soul. She sneers. She heaps abuse on you. She calls you names and haughtily declares that she has never been so disgusted by anything in her entire life. You quail and retreat and she presses down on you. Her tone turns from ice to venom to mere, childish nastiness. You are such a pathetic little worm. You've got nothing. You are totally unworthy of her.<br/>
<br/>
And something in you snaps. You strike at her ... and like a soap bubble she suddenly vanishes. <br/>
<br/>
But now everything in your mind is very pink. Except where it is volcanically red.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You open your eyes. Where the fuck are you? You cluck your tongue and sit up and blink and stare. What a gaudy, ugly room. Phew, it stinks, too! How did you get here? Did someone put something in your beer at that party? Yeah, it must've been that kid, that horrible, stupid, scaly-faced <i>twig</i> who dresses so stupidly and hangs out with all the other horrible, stupid, scaly-faced, dressed-by-retards twigs. What was his name?<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott," you mutter to yourself. Oh God, what a stupid name. You roll your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
And as you do so you come over all dizzy and clutch your head. Prescott. Yeah, Prescott got to you. He was very close to you. He was inside you. <i>Ew!</i> Except not like that. Even deeper ...<br/>
<br/>
You reel, and then everything reorients and becomes right again. You pass the back of your hand across your forehead, and it comes away sweaty. "Jesus, she comes on strong," you gasp. But the fit has passed. You are yourself again. And though she is inside your mind, Chelsea Cooper is powerless; she drapes over your own mind and personality the way her body drapes over yours, but it cannot move or even think unless you twitch it.<br/>
<br/>
You step over to the full-length mirror that hangs on the far wall and peer intently into it; Chelsea's strong blue eyes glint back. You full lips part into a smile—very small and slight, a thing only at the corners, but wolfish. Your nostrils flare. Your gaze falls to her bosoms, those great globes that she turns and aims like the guns on a battleship: round and full, with spreading pink tips that are now taut and erect and sensitive. Carefully, you lift the them from below and cradle them in the palms of your small hands, and the nerves tweak and twinge. "Ungh," you moan softly, and bite your lower lip. "Mmphgh," you repeat, more strongly, and your smile spreads. "Mmmrrmmm," you meow weakly. You look up at yourself from under your eyebrows; tangled curls of blond hair fall across your cheek; your expression is sultry and coquettish. You feel a tremor in your pussy, and gasp. <br/>
<br/>
And then you put it from your mind. There is stuff you have to do, and with brusque, business-like élan you quickly dress in the tan skirt, white sleeveless blouse, ankle socks, and crisp, white canvas sneakers.<br/>
<br/>
"You're looking quite pleased with yourself, Mr. Prescott," Blackwell smirks as you hop into the library. You're not sure how long it took you to complete the transformation, but the original Chelsea is nowhere in evidence.<br/>
<br/>
You look him up and down—disgusting old man—with thinly disguised contempt, and shrug. "I can do things with this body. I can get other people to do things with it. I like it." You sniff. "Thanks." There's a pregnant silence, and you're aware that you are playing Chelsea just a little too perfectly in the circumstances. "What do you need me to do for you," you ask in what you hope is a more gracious tone.<br/>
<br/>
"It will take me at least a week to get my own affairs in order, and then I can join you. You might keep an eye out for a suitable host for me."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not getting Gordon," you warn him.<br/>
<br/>
He starts. "What? Oh, yes, your strapping young boyfriend." He smiles. "Yes, probably best that you keep him for yourself. We are going to be colleagues, and we are already blood relations. Bringing sex into it would make the mix too combustible."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll find you something. I know everyone, and I can get you anyone," you boast. "Call me." You dimple and blow him a kiss, and skip out to your car.</span></div></div>


path: 1121122112211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Queen of Mean
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You do your homework as soon as you get home, though you spend more time updating your social network sites, a chore that leaves you more exhausted than even algebra, but hey, it's what keeps you on top. But you go to bed early, because you will be getting up early.<br/>
<br/>
You wake a little after four and start with a bath that includes lots of scrubbing and exfoliating. You dry yourself carefully (and lingeringly!) with fluffy towels, and then tackle the serious business of getting made up. You try every shade of blush; you experiment with combinations; you add and remove glitter. You do your hair in a dozen styles; you spread 12 kinds of nail polish on your ten nails, to see which ones look best with which lipstick, of which you try ten. Then it's to the wardrobe, to try skirts, slacks, shorts; sweaters, blouses and dresses; ankle socks, knee-length socks, no socks at all. By seven thirty you are exhausted and want to crawl back into bed, but you are also very happy with what you've put together: torn, ragged jeans shorts; a sloppy, paint-stained pullover; hair tied back and to the side with two mismatched hair scrunchies, and ratty blue tennis shoes with no socks. You would look like you just slid out of bed if it weren't for the careful layering of blushes, shadows, rouge, lipstick, and glitter. They are understated, but they make you look fresh, alive, earthy, and like you want to be fucked all afternoon long, outdoors, while riding a horse side-saddle.<br/>
<br/>
Which is exactly the look you want. You ... no, Chelsea ... no, <i>you</i> were very sweet and flirtatious with Gordon yesterday. Today you are going to make the bastard--the biggest bully in Westside--suffer.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey sweetie," you chirp as you slide into his vintage VW Beetle when it pulls up in front of your house a little after eight. He leans in for a kiss, but you turn and tap the side of your neck. "Here, okay? I'm all made up."<br/>
<br/>
He growls appreciatively and nuzzles at your throat. You feel tongue and teeth ...<br/>
<br/>
"Quit it, Gordon!" you shout, and shove him back. "I told you, I'm all made up!"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" he puts his hands up. "I didn't touch your face!"<br/>
<br/>
"No hickies!" You cluck your tongue and twist the rear view mirror to study the spot where he touched you. "We're taking pictures today!"<br/>
<br/>
Panic spreads over his face: he hasn't shaved in two days, and the patchy brown stubble is unsightly. He paws at his hair. "School portraits?" he says in a worried tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Gawd, no! Don't you pay attention to anything?" You wince unhappily: there's a small red mark just above your collar; you hope it doesn't spread. "Just us girls. We're gonna be taking a bunch of photos with our cell phones, you know, to post online and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, they don't either," you primly admit. "I just had the idea last night. They won't know what hit them. If there's any justice in the world Cindy will look like shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you always look good," he smiles.<br/>
<br/>
You gasp, and hot tears spring into your eyes. "Fuck you, Gordon, how could you say that?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?!"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you know how much work I put into looking good?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said you always look good!"<br/>
<br/>
"You think it just happens! Well, I work fucking hard so you'll think I'm sexy!"<br/>
<br/>
"Baby! I said--! I meant--!"<br/>
<br/>
You press the back of your hand against your eyes. "And now you're going to ruin everything because you're gonna to make me cry!"<br/>
<br/>
"Baby, you are so ..." He squeezes your knee.<br/>
<br/>
You turn a frosty shoulder to him and your voice hardens. "Just shut up, Gordon! Don't talk to me. I'm not going to cry! Just don't say anything, and then you won't fuck anything up for me!"<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the drive is as cold and quiet as an iceberg.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At pre-class practice, you order Cindy Vredenburg--Lucy's sister--to lead the drills while you watch with a critical eye, never stirring yourself. By the end, Cindy and the others are red and sweaty, and that's when you pull out the cell phone and insist on taking two-shots of yourself and your victims. All of them--especially Cindy--look awful, and they know it, so they also look pinched and unhappy in the photos. Your cultivated look gives the impression that you've also been working yourself into a mess, but of course you look <i>devastating</i> in the photos, especially when juxtaposed so cruelly against  the other girls. You prattle about how <i>sweet</i> and <i>hot</i> everyone looks, and insist on texting the photos all over the school. <br/>
<br/>
In second period you make a point of telling your fellow cheerleader Yumi Saito that she needs to encourage Paul Davis, a plain and awkward classmate who has an ill-hidden crush on her. "He's just your type," you simper. After class and within earshot of Yumi you bump into Paul in the hallway and jeer at him. "Jeez, Paul, haven't you changed your wardrobe since middle school?"<br/>
<br/>
At lunchtime you breeze into the cafeteria, riding a wave of stares—the photos you took earlier have crested through the school, and all the boys have been hungrily anticipating your appearance. You ignore the occasional wolf whistle and ostentatiously drop into Gordon's lap at the head table.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's your lunch," you ask Maria Vasquez, who is supposedly your best friend. She is munching on an apple, not even bothering to close her mouth as she chews. "Maria, where's your lunch," you repeat.<br/>
<br/>
Her attention returns from whatever emptiness she'd been contemplating, and she looks vacantly around. Then she seems to notice the apple, and gestures toward it.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have any more? I don't want my lunch." You toss your brown paper bag into the middle of the table. Maria shakes her head and continues to chew. "How many apples did you bring today?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you, and a titter runs around the table. Maria and math: it's an uneven struggle.<br/>
<br/>
"How many apples do you have, Maria," you ask her slowly, like she's a first-grader. She sucks on a tooth and points to her meal. "Is that one? Yes, it's one. How many more do you have?" She shrugs. "No more? Poor Maria. Zero apples. What's one plus zero?" She reacts as though it's a snake that's taken the form of a trick question, and draws back. "Anything plus zero is one." Her eyebrows shoot up, as though this is an interesting but not easily graspable discovery. "So how many apples did you bring today?"<br/>
<br/>
She swallows what she's been chewing. "Two," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"No, Maria," you say sadly. "One. One plus zero is one!"<br/>
<br/>
She takes another bite. "I gave the other one away."<br/>
<br/>
Laughter bursts from all the others. "Atta girl, Maria," Seth Javits chortles. "Sometimes I think you're smarter than Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
You turn to smile coolly at Seth. Concentric waves of silence form like a bullseye around him. Though you've said nothing, all those near know you've marked him for punishment.<br/>
<br/>
After school you let Gordon drive you to a private street where you can park and make out without being hassled. You change into a loose denim shirt that you spread wide around your cleavage and tie up to expose your midriff. He kisses the top of your bosom, using his tongue. He's very good, and soon has you purring, though you carefully refrain from making any noises. Eventually you giggle appreciatively. "Take me out Saturday night," you say. "Do something special for me, and I'll do something special for you."<br/>
<br/>
He raises his head; a gleam shines in his eye. "Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, something. You have to be good, though. The better you are, the nicer I'll be."<br/>
<br/>
He leans back down into your bosom and muffles an ecstatic groan.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Blackwell calls you that evening, while you are choosing the best--meaning the most excruciating for Cindy and the others--photos to post on Facebook. "Tomorrow may bring some excitement at school," he chirps. "One of your classmates, Will Prescott, was killed a car wreck this evening."<br/>
<br/>
"Was he?" you yawn. "That's interesting. I wonder if I should be, like, all sad for him and his friends and family."<br/>
<br/>
"I should be joining him soon. Have you any prospects for me," he asks politely. <br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking one of my girlfriends?" you say. "I can text you some photos. Wait, lemme get you some better ones tomorrow, the ones today were kinda shitty." You laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"Any boys?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm, that might be a problem if we're supposed to hang out and do, like, magic and stuff. Gordon's kinda possessive." Actually, you'd love to stick him in air-headed Maria. What a joke!<br/>
<br/>
Just then a deep baritone calls your name. "Yeah, what it is it, Jordan?"<br/>
<br/>
Your door opens, and Jordan Cooper, Chelsea's college-junior brother, sticks his head in. "You seen my lacrosse uniform anywhere?"<br/>
<br/>
You're about to tell him to shove his uniform and stick both up his ass when you catch yourself. Jordan is big, athletic, and he lives in the same house as you. If Blackwell wants a male host, Jordan would be ideal.</span></div></div>


path: 11211221122112
author_id: heyyy3
title: Jordan
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Before you tell him to shove his stick and uniform up his ass, a thought comes to your mind. "Jordan I'm on the phone, go find your uniform yourself. Did you check the laundry room? Maybe mom finally washed it. That thing is disgusting." <br/>
<br/>
He just rolls his eyes to your comment. "What ever sis, you get more bitchy every day. Well I think mom did wash it so I'll check the laundry room just in case." <br/>
<br/>
"Okay what ever, does it look like I care?" You reply using Chelsea's snappy attitude perfectly. "So who you talking to anyway? Is it Gordon again?" He says while grinning. "Jordon get out of my room!!" He just laughs as he shuts your door again.<br/>
<br/>
You pick the phone up again and reply back to Blackwell. "Sorry about that I'm back, but I have a perfect idea. Hold on a sec while I deal with the situation." <br/>
<br/>
"Was that Jordon Copper's voice I heard? <br/>
<br/>
"Yes it was, that's part of my plan." You can almost sense him grinning on the other end of the call before you hang up. <br/>
<br/>
Remembering from yesterday, you still have a mask tucked away in your handbag. You quickly snatch it and take it. Thinking you have to act quick, you descend the spiral staircase into the foyer. Hopefully your opportunity didn't pass. Going from Chelsea's memories you locate the laundry room. <br/>
The room is nearly pitch dark but you can still see Jordan visible searching through the clothes. Smiling to yourself this makes it much easier without the light. "Bad choice Jordan." You thought<br/>
<br/>
Take the mask from your right hand and scoop it up and slowly walk towards Jordan without making a sound. "Here it is, I finally found..." Just before he can finish his sentence you see his handsome face looking in your direction. You smash the mask against his face. All a sudden the tower of a guy he is collapses onto the ground. "That's going to hurt." You say. <br/>
<br/>
After waiting a few minutes the mask reappears on Jordan's face. You take it and claim your score. <br/>
<br/>
*      *       *       *       *        *        *      *    *    *<br/>
<br/>
Your parents are out of town on a vacation, so the house is just about all to yourself. The only problem is that you have to somehow deal with Jordan. Confident about your plan you give Blackwell a call. "Hey I need to see you and tell you something. I found you a potential disguise. <br/>
<br/>
"Ok come over to my house in about 5 or 10 minutes." <br/>
<br/>
Gathering up your purse you put the mask into it and touch up your makeup. You go down stairs and get your shoes. "Jordon I'm going out for a bit." You see him turn the corner rubbing his head. <br/>
<br/>
"Okay sis. I was in the laundry room and the next minute I woke up on the floor with head pounding."<br/>
<br/>
"That's weird." Is all you could manage to say as you drifted out the door.<br/>
<br/>
*         *            *         *         *           *            *<br/>
<br/>
Looking at your reflection in Blackwells door you touch your face up as you ring the bell. Within in seconds Blackwell's refection greets you.<br/>
<br/>
"Why Chelsea Cooper it is my pleasure to see you." <br/>
<br/>
Waking into his house he takes you to the library where he brings a tray of tea. "So who is this disguise you nabbed?" He questions. <br/>
<br/>
"Okay I know its a little unconstitutional but my brother.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh Jordan Cooper. He seems like a very good option. He's quite handsome, big and strong." <br/>
<br/>
"That's what I was thinking plus he's my brother so it wouldn't raise any suspicion from Gordon." <br/>
<br/>
"I like it Chelsea. So may I dawn the disguise of Jordan Copper?" <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah go for it." <br/>
<br/>
You show him the mask as the name JORDAN NICKOLAS COOPER shines through. He takes the mask and goes into the adjacent room. <br/>
<br/>
After waiting a few minutes your brother reappears. Blackwell has dawned his form perfectly. He is grinning as he flexes his impressive bicep. You see that he had some spare clothes since now Jordan is dressed appropriately like a college junior. <br/>
<br/>
"I can definitely get used to looking like this." He states in Jordan's deep baritone. As Chelsea it's kinda weird seeing your brother like this. But the other side of you sorta wants Jordan's form as your own. <br/>
<br/>
"Blackwe...I mean Jordan, would you mind putting on Chelsea's form. I'm sorta tired of it, and want to be back in a guys body." <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah I can't see why not. He then removes the mask from his face and transforms from the form of a jock to a middle aged man. This clothes look completely funny on his body now. You remove Chelsea's mask as you return to your original body. "Look at Will dressed up like a girl." Blackwell smiles. You roll your eyes as you trade makes. He strips off his clothes. You try not to look at his unsightly naked body as you take the clothes. You hand him Chelsea's clothes as you run into the adjacent room. <br/>
<br/>
Like a five year old you are giddly with excitement. You dawn yourself in the college jock clothes. You kinda wonder who Blackwell got them from. First you put on the boxer briefs which are a little big on your small frame. Then you put on the over sized v neck shirt and pull on the dark washed jeans that cover your feet. With the socks on first you lace and strap up your Nike Jordan's. With your clothes on you smash the mask against your face.<br/>
<br/>
The world of Jordan greets you. You have access to all his memories and have all the ways to act and impersonate him. Your clothes fill out respectfully as your body doubles in size. The sleeves on the shirt tighten up and the shirt tightens his your thick, strong chest and a set of abs. Your legs fill out to form your lacrosse player legs. Across from you Jordan's face greets you. His handsome raven hair is styled up in spikes in front. and his deep blue eyes complement the shirt you are wearing. You are in the body of your dreams.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11211222
author_id: seuzz
title: It's Good to be the King
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I need to get back into the school. I need to keep an eye on Blackwell and find some way of getting him alone," you tell her. <br/>
<br/>
"How are you going to do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll need your help. You need to bring me someone."<br/>
<br/>
She regards you warily. "You mean kidnap someone? Replace them? Like he did to us?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't like it any more than you. But with luck it will only be for a day or two."<br/>
<br/>
She takes a deep breath. "Okay. Who?"<br/>
<br/>
That's the thing. Your circle and her circle—the few students at Westside she still knows, like Patterson—are entirely different groups. Besides, you really don't like the idea of kidnapping one of your friends, though they would let you get closest to Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
"Surprise me," you say at last. "Use your judgment."<br/>
<br/>
She makes a face. "You just don't want to be the one to have to pick."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm in it just as much as you. More so, since I'll be the one stepping in for them."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You won't be able to put them in the basement at Blackwell's: the window is still busted wide open. But you examine the mausoleum, and find that it has a strong door that can only lock from the outside. It won't be a pleasant prison, but it'll do. You stock it with several bottles of water and lots of dried fruits and meats, and wait for Lucy to show up with your victim.<br/>
<br/>
But she's alone when she pulls up. "What happened?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shirt on, Professor," she says. "He's coming. I told him I needed to drop my car off here and needed a ride back."<br/>
<br/>
"Who is it?" She turns to look back down the road. You look too. A vintage orange VW Beetle chugs into view. <i>No. She couldn't have gotten</i> him.<br/>
<br/>
"I figured you could use some muscle," she says. "And, anyway, after Patterson last night I found him easy to convince."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon Black, captain of the basketball team, and triple-alpha dog of the school, unfolds himself from the tiny car. He nods vaguely at you and keeps his attention on Lucy. "Yo, you ready to make this drop off?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," she says, and there's a guilty tinge to her voice. "Gordon, this is my professor. And this is Gordon Black."<br/>
<br/>
"Charmed, I'm sure," you say. You grasp his strong right hand and quickly—if clumsily—shove the mask at him with your left.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Don't start with me, wench," you warn her. Chelsea shifts to present even more of her back to you. "You don't even know what you're talking about."<br/>
<br/>
"Well then, one of you is a liar," she spits over her shoulder. "Either you or Steve."<br/>
<br/>
You throw your head back and groan. "So I gave Lucy Vredenburg a ride after school."<br/>
<br/>
"So you admit it," she retorts. "Steve gives her a ride last night and you give her one this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"God fucking damn it!" you roar, and pound the steering wheel with the palm of your hand. It's not just Gordon's frustration you feel, but your own. You are this. Freaking. Close. to nailing the head cheerleader, the queen of the school, the girl with the hottest body at Westside, and she turns on the bitch act over an innocent favor.<br/>
<br/>
Well, over something Gordon is innocent of, at least.<br/>
<br/>
You leap from the car and slam the door shut and pound the roof with your fist. Your girlfriend can be such a bitch. Your cock strains at your jeans. If you don't get it in her quick, you'll have another one of those embarrassing accidents.<br/>
<br/>
You sag, and heavily trod over to her side of the car. You kneel down and tap at the window. "Chelsea," you say in a small voice. "I've been a bad boy. I'm sorry. You can spank me if you want."<br/>
<br/>
She rolls down the window. "What did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
Fuck. "I said you can spank me. Please?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause, and the door opens. "Beg," she says. You make the puppy eyes and whimper and hold up a paw. "Now stick your nose in your mess." You hunch over and rub your nose in the dirt. She slaps you lightly on the ass. <br/>
<br/>
Hurriedly you unbuckle and pull down your jeans and briefs. Your cock bursts forth. Her tiny hand spanks you harder and harder. You groan and whine and thrust at the empty air ...<br/>
<br/>
When you were twelve, your dad gave you a lecture on the "sin of Onan." You doubt this is exactly how it unfolded in the Bible.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning you charge into the boys' locker room, pushing all aside until you reach Patterson. He glances over at you with an innocent expression that turns to wonder when you shove him so hard that he topples onto the concrete floor. "Don't you ever fucking tell my fucking girlfriend who I'm fucking talking to what I'm fucking doing with her," you yell as you tower over him. "You got that, cocksucker? I will fuck you up so fucking hard your fucking ass will be riding between your fucking shoulder blades."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck did I do?" your best friend asks.<br/>
<br/>
You kick him, hard. "Keep your fucking mouth shut around Chelsea!"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone didn't get a blow job last night," a voice says behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You turn and survey the stricken basketball team. "Okay, ladies, you have until the count of five to tell me who said that, or I collect teeth from all of you. One two three four—"<br/>
<br/>
Half the players scurry away from Jeremy Richards. He looks around in panic, and his face falls. "Assholes," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
You get in his face. "You wanna say something funny about me and my wench, get your own late night show." You point to the floor. "Assume position number nine."<br/>
<br/>
His face works as he tries to remember which one is— "Oh, fuck, Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"NOW!"<br/>
<br/>
He bends over and pulls his shorts and underwear off. At a gesture from you, two of the other players fetch a dirty t-shirt, soak it under the showers, and then use the sawed-off end of a broomstick to screw the sodden mass firmly into his ass. You then order him to waddle, under his own power, out into the gym, to stand with everything hanging out on the sidelines while everyone else heads out for practice. After ten minutes of humiliation, you jerk your thumb to tell him he can go back and finish suiting up.<br/>
<br/>
But Gordon Black doesn't rule the school only through fear. After practice, you hold Richards back with the palm of your hand until the rest of the team has exited the changing room. Then you take him your arms and cradle him. "You did good, Richards," you whisper in his ear. "It was your first time, and you took it like a man. You've got the stuff." He hugs you back tightly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Prescott is nowhere to be seen, though you prowl the halls alertly and make sure to pass by your old locker between each period. You see Caleb, though, and after fifth you decide to take out your frustration on your old locker mate. You make sure to linger nearby so that he bumps into you as he turns.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes go wide when he sees who he's jostled. You heft him up to eye level—almost four inches off the floor—and glare at him. "You hate your life, little man?" He shakes his head. "Then why are you hassling me?" He bites his lip. "I'll give you time to think up an answer. Have one ready the next time I see you." You drop him.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing against Caleb, of course, but it will give you an excuse to nail Prescott if and when he shows up again. You're so low on the totem pole that Gordon Black doesn't even know who you and your friends are.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"The fuck are we doing this?" Seth Javits whines. "We do it all day. And why out here?"<br/>
<br/>
You make the free throw. "Richards! Answer his question."<br/>
<br/>
"You gotta love the ball or you'll fuck it up when it counts," he tells his friend. He tosses it back to you and grins wetly. <br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin' A, bro," you say. "Richards, love the ball!" You hurl at him, hard. He catches it easily. He's like a puppy, doing exactly what you say, and stupidly happy each time you say something even a little bit nice.<br/>
<br/>
"But why here? This is a shitty court."<br/>
<br/>
The blacktop at the old elementary school near Prescott's house is in shitty shape, but you want to keep an eye on it for Blackwell. You left the busted lock hanging from the basement door. If it moves ...<br/>
<br/>
You lope over and hang an arm around Richards' neck. "I don't think your friend loves the ball, Richards. What do you think?" He grins even more widely and shakes his head. "I think he and the ball need to make a closer acquaintance." The two of you smile maliciously at Javits.<br/>
<br/>
He holds his hands up and backs away. "No. No," he says. But you are after him, and he runs away as fast as he can while you and Richards, hooting and howling, try to corner him. You drive him in the direction you want, and nail him hard on the back of the head with the basketball. He pitches face forward into the turf.<br/>
<br/>
You ignore him, though, and step around him to squint at the basement door. The lock is gone.</span></div></div>


path: 112112221
author_id: seuzz
title: More Masks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yo, check it out," you call to the other guys. You jerk your chin at the door and trot over. They follow, and as you sidle up to it you grin back at them. You twist the doorknob slowly, the push it open quickly.<br/>
<br/>
Will Prescott looks up at you from the floor, first astonishment and then terror writ large on his features. He is holding something in his hand.<br/>
<br/>
Well, this is a nice surprise. You glance back over at Richards and Javits, wishing you were alone with the guy you've just found, but it can't be helped. You chew on the inside of your cheek, and a wicked smile spreads across your face as you walk slowly up, to tower over Prescott. "The fuck have we here? Whatcha got?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just a project," he says in low voice. He looks up at you from under his eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
You snigger. "A faggot arts project, huh?" You look around. There's a horrible acrid odor in the air, and two grayish-white masks and one blue one sit on a nearby table. You snatch up the blue mask and examine it; there's a metal strip on the inside. It must be the nearly finished mask that Blackwell took from the house.<br/>
<br/>
You toss it to Jeremy and the other two, unfinished masks to Seth. "Big score for us, boyos. Looks like we just got ourselves a passing grade in Trencher's class." Prescott gasps and starts to stand. You push him down and yank the unfinished mask from his hand and toss it back to Jeremy. "What else ya got for us?"<br/>
<br/>
You grab up his backpack and push him down, hard. Rifling through it you find your own textbooks and notebooks and papers and ...<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin' A. Where'd you lift this from?" You rub your hands carefully down the front of the <i>Libras Persona.</i> "This is wicked weird." You toss it back to Javits. <br/>
<br/>
"That's a library book," Prescott protests.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll return it for you," you gloat. "Wouldn't want you collecting any fines." You turn the backpack upside down and empty the contents on the floor. "Anything else? I lost my history book, so I'll take yours. Great, a term paper. Less work for me."<br/>
<br/>
Prescott turns very red, and you see a glint of hard anger in his eye, but he can't do anything.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I think we're done. We'll let ya get back to work. I got two more guys who need these whatchits for class, so make plenty."<br/>
<br/>
You usher the other two players out the door. Javits is grinning, but Richards looks a little pained. He used to hang out with you and Caleb and Keith in middle school, and he's probably feeling a pang of conscience.<br/>
<br/>
At the top of the steps into the basement you tell the other two to wait for you by the cars: you've got a little unfinished work back in the basement.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, Gordon," Richards protests. "He's not worth it."<br/>
<br/>
"For fifty bucks you can watch, Richards."<br/>
<br/>
His lips turn white, but he says nothing, and he and Javits return to where your cars are parked.<br/>
<br/>
After they are around the corner you go back down into the basement. Too late you spot Prescott, and the two-by-four across the side of your face drops you to your knees.<br/>
<br/>
It takes several moments for you to clear your head, and you're slow stumbling up the steps after him. You could probably outpace him, but he has too much of a head start, and you're too groggy to give chase. Cursing, you slowly walk back to join your erstwhile friends.<br/>
<br/>
Richards is sitting by his car, leaning against it lazily. Javits looks up at you, and his face is white. He starts when he sees you nursing your eye. "What the fuck happened, Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Cocksucker got me with a board. You know him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've seen him around. I know who he hangs out with."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Monday we give him a special." You kick Richards in the foot. "What's your problem?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's those things we got off the faggot," Javits says. His voice trembles.<br/>
<br/>
Your blood freezes. "What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. He started goofing around with one, put it to his face. And then he just fell over."<br/>
<br/>
You crouch down and examine Richards carefully. His breathing is shallow and his gaze unfocused. You slap him a couple of times. "Where's the thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"The thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fucking thing you said he was fucking playing with, you fuckwit. Christ!" You both scramble around: there are three unpolished masks and the <i>Libras</i> on the ground. "There was a blue one, wasn't there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
You snap your fingers in his face. "Learn to use your fucking eyes, Javits. God gave 'em to you for more than staring at porn."<br/>
<br/>
It's pretty clear that Richards unwittingly tried on the polished mask. You have to get rid of Javits before it can— <br/>
<br/>
Shit. Richards' face begins to glow, and the mask reappears. It drops into his lap. Seth makes a choking noise. You examine the mask: Jeremy's face glows from inside it, and on its inverted surface the words JEREMY THADDEUS RICHARDS seem to float above the surface. <br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1121122211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Magician's End
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"He's a fucking wizard," you say. "Or magician or warlock or some shit like that." You lean back on Richards' bed and tap the book.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott's a lot of things, but he's no Harry Potter," Richards insists. <br/>
<br/>
"You used to fuck around with him, right? What was he like?" Richards talks about you, emphasizing the stupider aspects of your behavior and personality, you notice. "This isn't his kind of thing," he says when he's done.<br/>
<br/>
"He sounds like a fucking loner," you say. "Columbine wannabe." Richards shakes his head emphatically. "Then how come he's making this shit? Look at what he can do with it." You nod your head at the other Richards, who is still checking himself out in the mirror. "Yo, you want some privacy, Javits? Richards, give him your jerk-off sock."<br/>
<br/>
"He uses a t-shirt," the Richards-wearing Javits says. "Sorry," he mumbles as Richards glares at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's get that thing off you. This is getting real fruity." You gesture Javits over, and after consulting the book again you rip the mask from his face. "So, it looks to me like he's out to replace people at the school." You point to the scattered notes you've taken as you and the other two have "deciphered" the book with the help of a laptop. "He can make these masks and mind-rape people and even make these golem things."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe it's not really Prescott doing these things," Richards says. "Maybe he's been replaced himself." <i>Three-point shot for Richards.</i> "I mean, whoever it is has to be stopped, of course ..."<br/>
<br/>
You suck on your lip. "I wish I knew what this next spell was supposed to do." It's, the one Blackwell was presumably preparing. "It needs a live person, it says."<br/>
<br/>
"And all that graveyard dirt," Javits says, making a face.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I know what you boys are doing tonight," you say, getting to your feet. "I say we experiment on the fucker, use him to figure out this next spell."<br/>
<br/>
"Us?" Richards asks, turning pale. "And him?"<br/>
<br/>
"You got a better idea? You said he has to be stopped. I say we use his own magic against him."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do we do," Javits asks as Richards says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"Like I said, you boys go out and get some graveyard shit. It's dark, no one will see you."<br/>
<br/>
"You coming too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't. The old man'll kill me if I'm not back home in an hour." You snatch up the book. "I'll get the rest of the shit. Meet me tomorrow at the fuck room. We'll take care of it there."<br/>
<br/>
"How?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shit together, Richards. It's all, like, interlocking gears and shit. I'll tell you your part tomorrow. You just get that fucking dirt. And don't tell anyone else <i>anything.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They meet you outside the gym door the next day at one, and you lead them up. It's their first time up in the VIP room, and they try to look suitably impressed, even though it's just a smelly loft. At your direction they spread the dirt out on the gym mat, and you add the other ingredients, including a bit of your (not Gordon's) hair. "Okay, I told Lynch and Patterson to stay the fuck away, so this should go smooth. As long as Javits doesn't fuck it up."<br/>
<br/>
"Me? What do I gotta do?"<br/>
<br/>
"You gotta get Prescott, bring him here. Use this and be his friend." You thrust the Jeremy Richards mask at Javits.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" Richards protests. "What's the idea, Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"So you guys were, like, fuckbuddies in middle school, right? So you're feeling awful about what happened yesterday, so you should go out to see him today." You turn to Javits. "Use the mask. Cry like a little girl if you have to. Just get him out of his fucking house, get him over here. I know, tell him we stowed his shit up here in the fuck room, and you can get it back for him if he comes with you."<br/>
<br/>
"And how come Javits is going instead of me?" Richards asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Because you <i>will</i> feel like shit and mess it up. I can see it in your eyes. The guy's bad news, but you'd suck his cock before giving him the screwing over he needs."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Richards don't say much after Javits has left. You make a few muted noises about not liking to do what you have to do, but he doesn't believe you much; and really, you're not sincere. About thirty minutes later, you look out the window and see the fake Jeremy and Prescott arrive. "Don't fuck this up, Richards," you warn your companion. "We take him from behind." You both hide.<br/>
<br/>
Voices come from outside, and then the door opens and Prescott appears. As soon as he's in, you tackle him and pin him to the ground. "The rope, Richards! Now!"<br/>
<br/>
Nothing happens but Prescott's struggles. You look behind you. An anguished Richards is standing stock still, fiddling with the rope.<br/>
<br/>
"God damn it, Richards! Give me the rope!"<br/>
<br/>
He turns red. "Fuck you, Gordon. This is fucked up!"<br/>
<br/>
You swear hard and jump at him. You struggle, but he is fierce, and you can't get the rope from him or get a grip. "Javits!" you call to your confused third. "Keep the faggot down! Don't let him—" Richards elbows you in the mouth, and you drag him down as you fall. "Javits! Little help?" you say from the floor.<br/>
<br/>
You struggle to push Richards off, and then you feel the shuddering blow as Javits tackles his friend. You look up in time to see Prescott jump for the door. You shove your foot out, and with a cry he takes a header, banging his head hard on the corner of the doorway. You scramble over, away from the dueling twins, and turn him over. He is out cold. <br/>
<br/>
The two Richards are grunting and cursing, but you ignore them, and put your hand to Prescott's brow; you murmur the words and pull. The mask comes off, and there is a ripping sound as Blackwell's massive bulk appears and tears away Prescott's clothes. <br/>
<br/>
You stand with a grunt. "Javits! Let him up! It's okay!" The two players fall away from each other, dazed. You point to the unconscious figure. "Take a look at your friend now, Richards. Gotta say, you were right."<br/>
<br/>
Richards comes over, looking dumbfounded and aghast at Blackwell. You hand him the mask you tore from the man. He says nothing, but looks at the mask numbly.<br/>
<br/>
"Javits, help me with this cocksucker." The two of you lift Blackwell onto the bier of earth, and you pour the magic powder over him. "Light it up." Javits swallows, flicks a match, and tosses it onto Blackwell. There is a bright flash, and ghostly, heatless flame envelops the magician.<br/>
<br/>
After checking to make sure the flame is going good, you glance back at Richards, in time to see him put the mask to his face. "The fuck are you—" But it's too late, and he goes down. You and Javits watch as he shifts and contorts, as Javits did when he put on the mask of Jeremy.<br/>
<br/>
When it's over, you bend down next to the new Prescott. "Richards, is that you in there? You okay?"<br/>
<br/>
He nods dazedly, and his brow crinkles. He looks like he's trying to remember something. "The guy. His name is Blackwell. He's a professor. And he—" His face goes white and he scrambles for the door. "He's got ... he's got Will and Lucy Vredenburg!"<br/>
<br/>
"Richards!" You leap after him and catch him by the loose, overlarge clothing he's wearing. "Don't go off half cocked, you fuckwit. Hang on! We gotta make sure that motherfucker's taken care of!"<br/>
<br/>
"But he's got my friend! He's got Lucy! At his place!" He stops short. "Wait, no. They got out somehow. They escaped." He bites his lip. "I don't know where they are."<br/>
<br/>
"There, you see? They'll be okay. We just gotta make sure whatsisname back there is out of commission."<br/>
<br/>
Glumly, he follows you back into the loft.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Near as I can tell," you say, prodding the recumbent figure, "it turned him into another one of these golem things." Blackwell is now a solid granite color, and he seems to have been turned to stone itself. But he is still lightly breathing. His eyes are open, though, and they are the same stony texture, so you doubt he'll be waking up.<br/>
<br/>
"What do we do with him?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug and toss the Prescott mask onto its face. It vanishes like a stone in a pool, and color ripples over the form, turning it into Will Prescott. The figure groans and clutches its head. "Oh, shit, my head hurts!" It sits up, and jerks a little when it sees you. "Fuck. No offense, boss, but you're the last person I wanted to see."<br/>
<br/>
"What's your name, little dude?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott. So where's Blackwell?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you know?" He shakes his head, then winces. "Never mind then. You called me 'boss'. How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what you are. My boss."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, you're like my bitch?" You grin.<br/>
<br/>
It glowers. "If that's the way you prefer things ..."<br/>
<br/>
"This is all kinds of fucked up," Richards exclaims. "That's not Prescott. It's a— a—"<br/>
<br/>
"I keep telling you to keep your shit together, Richards. I know what it is." You look over at Javits. "Will you take that fucking face off already? Two Richards is about four times as much ugly as I can stomach. And you can go fuck off now. Him, me and it can take it from here."<br/>
<br/>
After Javits has gone, you look grimly between Richards and the Prescott golem.</span></div></div>


path: 11211222111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Conspiracy Is Hatched
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Okay, look, here's the deal," you tell Richards. "Prescott here found this book, right? This professor bought it off him, and then used it to make copies of him and Lucy Vredenburg. He sent a fake out to replace Lucy. The professor went out pretending to be Prescott. He locked them up for the time being, but he was planning to get rid of them. I've got that right, haven't I?" You turn to the golem. It nods.<br/>
<br/>
"But Prescott and Lucy got loose. The professor found out about it and panicked. Started making up more of these masks. He needed new hiding places, and he didn't care who he had to kill to get them. We caught him, though. And now there he is, under that mask." You point to the golem.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and now we have to find Prescott so—" Richards breaks off. "Shit, there's also that fake Lucy out there, right? We have to take care of her too!"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "Prescott and Lucy already did that. The other night, when Lucy got together with Patterson up here? That was the real Lucy who called, and Prescott was with her. But the fake Lucy showed up too, because Steve the fuckwit called her, thinking he was calling her back. So the fake shows up, Prescott takes her out, and Lucy goes back to her old life without anyone noticing. Lucky for her."<br/>
<br/>
Richards looks confused. "How do you know this?"<br/>
<br/>
You ignore him. "But Prescott still needed a hiding place, same as the professor. He hid out at the professor's house for a while, but then he had Lucy bring him someone. They had one spare mask they could use, so they used it to get Prescott a hiding place. Someplace he could hide inside the school, and then get at his double." You shrug. "He didn't pick Gordon Black as the replacement. That was Lucy's idea. But he went along with it."<br/>
<br/>
The expression on Richards' face begins to shift.<br/>
<br/>
"Black is okay, by the way. They just locked him up in a stone shed, with lots of water and food. The idea was to let him out again after everything got sorted out. He'd be confused, but Black is often incoherent. But yesterday, Prescott, in his new body, found the professor out at the old elementary school. Unfortunately, he had a couple of morons with him, and one of those morons put on a mask. After that, Prescott had to play along with them. Now those morons know about the masks, he's stuck with Gordon Black's body, and, to be totally honest, he has no idea what to do next."<br/>
<br/>
Richards peers at you very carefully. Then, very slowly, he says, "So, you're saying that ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm not really Gordon. I've just been pretending to be him for the past few days."<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you, starts to speak, thinks better of it, hesitates, and then says "Don't fuck with my head, Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I've been telling you this without proving it, because, to be honest, I don't want you punching me into next Tuesday. Promise you won't hit me?"<br/>
<br/>
Richards just stares, then gives a curt little nod. You put your hand to your brow and rip at the mask.<br/>
<br/>
Everything goes out of focus and starts to spin, and you barely feel it as you hit the floor. Only your ass is sore as you look up from inside Gordon's much-too-large clothes, so presumably you just fainted at the shock of shifting. Richards is looking down at you with a ghastly green expression on his face. You scramble up ...<br/>
<br/>
... and then he pops you a hard one.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He is sitting next to you with his head in hands when you next open your eyes. You're hurting bad, but you don't think you've been out long. He must have just knocked you back into the post-shift daze.<br/>
<br/>
When he sees you stir, he looks over at you with a glare. "How long have you been ... you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Since Thursday afternoon. Sorry about Friday morning, in the gym. I had to stay in character."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck." He chews on the knuckle of his thumb. "You can't just keep being him. We have to let him out."<br/>
<br/>
"I know. But what's he going to do about me? Or Lucy?"<br/>
<br/>
"We tell him the truth? Oh God, what am I saying ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. There's also Javits. You can keep a secret about all this shit. But what is Javits going to say when he sees Black? And if says something to Black, well, even Black is capable of putting two and two together, if you give him a calculator and a couple of hours."<br/>
<br/>
Richards smiles privately to himself, which you take as a sign he's stopped being mad at you. He suddenly turns and looks at your twin, who has sat down on the other side of him and is listening carefully. "Suppose we put that mask of you on him? What would happen?"<br/>
<br/>
"He would know everything it knows. That's what happened with you, remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"But he said he's your slave. So couldn't you order Black to keep quiet?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think it works that way. You weren't my slave when you put the mask on. I think it's the golem underneath that is the slave. It just affects the mask. But—" you add slowly. "You are talking about me taking over for Gordon, right? And finding some way of keeping Black quiet?"<br/>
<br/>
He chews his fingernail furiously and stares at you. "I hate that fucker's guts, you know?" he blurts out. "I only wanted to play basketball, but him and Patterson. Christ! You have no idea." He catches himself. "Well, actually you do."<br/>
<br/>
"So, you'd be alright with us putting Gordon inside some other body? And I continue as him?" He says nothing. "Or, you know," you nudge him. "We've got a mask of you. I could take over for you, and you could take over as team captain."<br/>
<br/>
You've no idea if the latter suggestion made him hesitate, or tipped him over into your plan. But he pulls himself together after a moment's thought. "Let's do it. We'll talk about who gets to be who later. But I don't want to turn Black into ... one of those golem things. Just trap him in some other person's life. Make him understand what it's like. Then maybe let him out again."<br/>
<br/>
It sounds reasonable. "It'll take awhile to polish up a mask to use. We better get started."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112112221112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Probation of Gordon Black
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"How long will it take to make a mask?" Jeremy asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Awhile, I think," you say. "I've never made one, I've just used the ones that Professor Blackwell had. From what I remember, though, I think it takes a couple of days." Jeremy gives you a puzzled look. "I've been inside the professor's mask," you explain, "but I don't remember much of what he knows."<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to leave Gordon locked up for a couple of <i>days?</i>" Jeremy asks, looking and sounding aghast.<br/>
<br/>
You see his point, and grimace. You pull at your nose, thinking. Then a loud popping sound reminds you of where you are. "I better get back inside Gordon," you say, scrambling over to where the mask is. "If someone catches us up here, with me like this ..."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It turns out it's just a noise, but you do feel safer dressed out as Gordon again. Jeremy keeps shooting you sidelong glances, though, especially when you suggest going down into the gym and tossing a basketball around. You take turns doing free throws--it helps Gordon clear his mind, which helps <i>you</i> clear <i>your</i> mind--and you find it very odd to be giving Jeremy advice and pointers on his form and technique. He probably finds it weird too, because the guy who looks like Gordon is being quiet and encouraging instead of screaming and insulting.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually an idea forms--a tricky idea, a dangerous idea. Jeremy rears back and argues when you explain it, but accedes when you point out there isn't really an alternative. But he's grim and thoughtful as you drive out to Blackwell's villa--after first making a stop at Gordon's house--with him and Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
"Keep it behind your back until I've got him," you tell Jeremy a short time later as you hand the Prescott mask to him. "Even with two of us, and me dressed up like this, we're gonna have to take him by surprise." You drop your old clothes next to the transformed Blackwell, who is laying next to the mausoleum, and then you and Jeremy walk around to the front.  You position yourself by the door and nod at him.<br/>
<br/>
He bangs on the door. "Hey, Gordon, you in there?" he calls. Silence. "Gordon?" he calls again. Muffled noises come from within, and an inarticulate voice sounds. "Hang on, I've got the key," Jeremy says. He twists it in the lock, and steps back.<br/>
<br/>
You press back against the wall as the door opens. "Richards?" Gordon says in a dumb voice as he steps out--totally naked, of course. Then he catches sight of you. Luckily, he's too surprised to react, and you quickly grab and wrap your arms around him. There's a brief struggle, and you holler at Richards for help, and he smacks the side of your face as he pushes the mask onto Gordon. Your prisoner is suddenly very liquid and slips from your grasp. But it's Will Prescott who hits the ground.<br/>
<br/>
Jeremy trots around the corner to retrieve your old clothes, then helps you carefully scoop the new Prescott up and hurry him into the house. He's not heavy--certainly not too heavy for guys like Gordon Black and Jeremy Richards to handle--but you take him into the library instead of upstairs. You loathe that ugly room--the twisted décor and the infernal ticking of the grandfather clocks--but it will probably help the new Will get oriented to his situation.<br/>
<br/>
He's stirring even as you set him down in a chair, and you and Jeremy sit on the opposite side of the table from him. He clutches his head, and groans. His expression, when he raises his face, mixes alarm and confusion. You say nothing as his eyes settle on you; his eyes widen in surprise, and then they narrow in puzzlement. He glances over at Jeremy, then looks around the room. His lips press together. Then he slouches and glares balefully at you.<br/>
<br/>
You lean forward, resting your elbows on the table. "I bet it's all kind of fucked up in there," you say, pointing at his face. "You've got two brains, and one of them's been doing some pretty crazy things." He says nothing. "But I can help you get it sorted. Lemme tell you a story."<br/>
<br/>
You start by telling Gordon about the last few days of his real life: How Lisa Vredenburg called him out to a spooky old house, and how he got trapped in a dark and dirty place for a couple of days before being rescued and finding himself in this library. "Now, let me tell you another story." You tell him the public adventures of Will Prescott, who found a weird book and paid a visit to this weird house, and how he went home and then came back and got in a panic when he found a secret room empty; how he ran off and started making some masks; how he had those masks stolen by some bullying basketball players and then got lured out to the high school, where he was tackled again by those same bullies--one of whom, Gordon Black, turned out not to be who he appeared to be.<br/>
<br/>
Your twin continues to listen intently as you then tell him a third story--that of Professor Blackwell, who liked to duplicate and replace people--and of how it was Professor Blackwell, disguised as Will Prescott, who was making those masks. And then you tell him your own story, of escaping from the professor and imprisoning Gordon in order to battle the nefarious professor, who is now no longer a threat.<br/>
<br/>
"You know all these things, and remember most of them," you finally conclude. "I haven't told you much you couldn't have figured out on your own. But now you've got it all in the right order, attached to the right people. You know who you are and you know who I am, and you know how we all got here."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he says dully. He's tense and moody, and looks at you and Jeremy with loathing. "So what are you going to do now? As if I couldn't guess. Cocksucker."<br/>
<br/>
You slap the table hard with a big, strong hand. "I know the way you think, Black," you bark, and he flinches. "I know what you'd do to me and Jeremy if we let you out of that mask. You think I couldn't break you, me looking like this and you looking like that?" Fear comes into his face. "That's totally what you'd do to me, if you and me switched back." His face twists and his lip curls. <br/>
<br/>
You hold his gaze, daunting him for a few moments, then relax. "Well, I <i>am</i> going to let you out. But I need to find a hiding place first. Someplace you won't find me." You glance at Jeremy. "Someplace for Richards, too. That'll take a week or so. But when we've got it set up, got us some new lives, we'll let you out. You can go back to being the asshole you really are."<br/>
<br/>
His nostrils flare, and something like a smile comes into his eyes, but it's not a nice smile. So you drop the other half.<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe we won't let you out." That catches his attention. "You're going to be living my old life for a week or so, and you could really fuck it up if you wanted. If you <i>do</i> fuck it up, I'll leave you right where you are, and <i>you'll</i> have to live with the consequences." You give him a tight, meaningful grin. "So think of it like you're on probation. You play nice with your temporary life, and you get to have your old life back. If you don't, well, it'll suck to be you, and it'll be your own fault."<br/>
<br/>
Now he looks a little more scared. He licks his lips and looks around. Something, perhaps, catches his attention, for with a jerk he looks over his shoulder. (To be fair, there are a <i>lot</i> of things in the library to make one jumpy.) Then, with obvious resignation, he jerks his shoulders in a shrug. "Whatever," he says. He glances darkly at Jeremy. "Anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Here's your new shit." You hurl your old clothes--still torn from Blackwell's transformation--at him. "Me and Richards will wait for you by the door." He sneers over the t-shirt, but starts to put it on as you and Richards pass into the foyer.<br/>
<br/>
"He's pissed," Jeremy says in a low voice as you loiter near the exit.<br/>
<br/>
"Obviously. I'd be too. So would you."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think he'll do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," you admit. "He can't get out of that mask on his own. His only hope is to do what we tell him. But he might be so pissed he'll do something stupid."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do we do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Make up those new masks."<br/>
<br/>
He jerks in surprise. "I thought you said that was just going to be a bluff, that we weren't really going to ... you know, find new people. We were just going to be ourselves, but make him think we weren't."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and that's still the plan. But it's best to be prepared."<br/>
<br/>
"What do we do about Seth?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you confess. "He's a loose end." Words seem to catch in Jeremy's throat. You nudge him reassuringly. "We just need to keep him quiet, stop him from asking questions." You glance over your shoulder into the library. "If he gets to talking to the real Gordon in there ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we could just tell him to stay away from ... Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not the best idea, but it'll do. Okay, let's get out of here," you say more loudly, for a very sullen Will Prescott has appeared.<br/>
<br/>
You retrieve a few more things from Jeremy's car--which you used to get out here--and then send him to drop off Will at his new home, asking him to come back and pick you up when he's done. Once they're gone, you're left regarding Blackwell's mask. Gordon might try something nasty, but who says you have to be at Westside to receive it?</span></div></div>


path: 1121122211121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Continuing Crisis
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The transformed Blackwell is heavy, but not as heavy as a statue that size should be. Still, it's unpleasant dragging it inside the house. You put it in the library, then fetch some pajamas and a silk robe from his bedroom; downstairs, you drop them next to the golem. You put the mask onto its face and retreat to the far end of the library to gaze out the French doors into the lowering afternoon sun, hands clasped behind your back. There's no way you want to see a naked Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
You don't turn at the grunt from behind you, and merely listen to the rustling of fabric. You let him dress, and continue to wait, until a polite cough tells you he's awaiting your attention. You turn, and there he is: a fat, balding reprobate with a drooping nose and unkempt goatee and moustache.<br/>
<br/>
His expression is deferential but amused. "An, ah, interesting form, sir," he says, flicking a finger in your direction. "Not our typical choice, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
You cock your head at the realization: He knows he has to obey you, but he doesn't know who is under Gordon's mask, and so has mistakenly assumed you're the real Aubrey Blackwell. <br/>
<br/>
The fake looks vaguely troubled as you stare back. His eyes fall. "But then, there are certain ... gaps ... in my memory, and I seem to have done some alarming things." He looks up, worry writ on his face. "I believe the troublesome Mr. Prescott must have, er, gotten under this face at some point." He seems embarrassed.<br/>
<br/>
You're pretty sure the thing would have to obey you even if it knew who you were, but it seems safest to keep it in ignorance; only now does it occur to you what an awful risk you ran: Putting his own mask on Blackwell might have revived the real magician. But it definitely seems to be a golem.<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter," you say brusquely. You haven't the ability to mimic Blackwell's diction or vocabulary, so you keep things short and sweet. "Prescott is ... not a problem any more." You stumble a little, not being able to unfurl the kind of sentences Blackwell prefers. <br/>
<br/>
The golem looks pleased, which makes something nasty rise in the back of your throat. "And what of Miss Vredenburg? If I am <i>here</i> I would have expected <i>you</i> to be--"<br/>
<br/>
"Miss Vredenburg, too," you say. "Though ... someone who looks like her is still running around."<br/>
<br/>
"Excellent," the thing sniggers. "It spares us the need to find another. Unless that's the job of your strapping young man?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not your business. Your job is to keep an eye on things here. The lights burning, the papers graded, all that." <br/>
<br/>
It nods deferentially. "And if I need to contact you?"<br/>
<br/>
"You won't. Something comes up, just handle it. The way I would." It blinks.<br/>
<br/>
You glance around the library, wondering if there are any books you should take, and which ones they should be. You decide to leave things alone for now. "Okay, I got a ride coming to pick me up. I'll check in later."<br/>
<br/>
The thing bows elaborately--satirically?--as you exit the library.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Any problems with Gordon?" you ask Jeremy as you slide into his car. His sedan is certainly roomier than Gordon's VW Bug.<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't talk. I guess I should avoid him too?"<br/>
<br/>
"You never go looking for Will Prescott at school, do you?" He winces at your sarcasm. "Probably best to just play it normally. I guess you should probably be nice to him if he comes looking for you, but, you know, just see what he says."<br/>
<br/>
"What about you? You gonna be 'nice' to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon Black doesn't know Will Prescott from any other asshole at school," you retort. You open the backpack containing the various supplies you'd collected and bought. "But if he comes looking for me--" You hesitate. "I might have to stay in character."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?" Jeremy starts, then recoils a little as you set a blank mask next to him. "Oh."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we need to get these things polished. Get some kind of cloth or other. They have to be blue when they're done. Like this one." You take out the mask he'd accidentally made of himself. "You should hang on to this one. You probably don't want anyone else getting into it."<br/>
<br/>
"Seth's been in it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, we got him out of it, too. And the memories fade pretty quickly." You cluck your tongue and playfully shove him in the head. "You got shit in there you're ashamed of?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a dirty look, but doesn't seem to take it personally. "You want people jerking off inside <i>your</i> head?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whose head? Prescott's or Black's?" Your grin widens. He doesn't answer. "Kind of a serious question, Richards. I asked if you wanted to take over as Gordon. If you do that, I'll have to take over as you."<br/>
<br/>
He shifts uneasily in his seat. "You can keep being him for now."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll have to stay in character," you warn him. "It's not gonna be fun for you this week."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not gonna be personal. Uh, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, just givin' you the business."<br/>
<br/>
"I know you don't get along with ... I mean, Gordon doesn't get along with his dad. Are you trying to put me in so you can get out of that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not fun, yeah, but there are compensations. Like, Chelsea." You groan lasciviously, and he gets a pained look. "Tell you what, each day I'm in here, starting tomorrow, you get the right to a day of your own as Gordon. Offer expires when these masks are done and we have to give Gordon his life back." He says nothing. "You don't have to agree to the deal. It's a standing offer."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll think about it," he says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"The fuck do you call this? <i>The fuck?!</i>" His hand grips the back of your neck like a vice and presses your face into the sink; your breath lightly ripples the water's surface.<br/>
<br/>
"I was coming back to finish up," you say quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Russell Black's voice isn't loud, but it is sulfurous. "If you'd finished before, you wouldn't have to come back."<br/>
<br/>
"The phone rang."<br/>
<br/>
"You can't do two things at once?" He pushes your face under the water, and though you hold your breath the stinking water rises into your nose. He bends down to speak quietly into your ear. "And when was the last time the vacuuming got done?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Before Mom left for Aunt Amy's,</i> you think to yourself. That's what this is about: the housework is now your responsibility, and he's reminding you of that fact.<br/>
<br/>
He releases you, but you remain hunched over the sink, water dripping from your face. "When is it going to get done," he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow, after school?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"I have homework."<br/>
<br/>
"You waited till the last minute?" His voice coils, and you brace for the shock. But he says nothing, and you hear him back off.<br/>
<br/>
You look over your shoulder. Your dad is now sitting at the table, his eyes gleaming angrily. <i>Fucker. He's waiting to see what you do or say. And whatever you choose to do, it will be the wrong decision ...</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"The fuck do you call that? <i>The fuck?!</i>" You feel the tendons standing out in your neck as you scream at Jeremy. He just glares down at the court, not speaking. You lean in close and scream at the top of his head. "You gonna give up points against Eastman too? Who the fuck are you playing for?" You master the urge to grab his head and twist it off his stupid neck. <br/>
<br/>
Instead, you step back and jab a finger at the floor. "Push ups. Here. By the net. You think this is funny, Sanders?" You wheel to scream at Richard's luckless team mate, who you've caught smirking lightly.<br/>
<br/>
"What? Gordon, I wasn't--" he protests, but you jab your finger at the ground again.<br/>
<br/>
"Push ups for you too, cocksucker, next to Richards. Whoever does the most doesn't have to follow them up with laps. The rest of you pansy asses, half court game, now. Whoever steps on or bounces a ball off these two asswipes gets to join them. Steve-o," you call to Patterson. "Keep a count going on these two while I show the rest of these losers how it's done." Patterson nods and starts drilling your two victims, punctuating every few numbers with a foul word or two.<br/>
<br/>
Afterward, you growl at Richards that you want to speak to him after practice. He looks at you uneasily as the locker room clears out, and when it's empty tries to forestall you. "I know, you're just being in character."<br/>
<br/>
"I also wanted an excuse to talk to you in private." Your jaw clenches, for you're not happy. "I gave you a blank mask yesterday. What happened to the other one?"<br/>
<br/>
"What other one?"<br/>
<br/>
You punch a locker. "Don't play the dumb fuck with me! I had a bad night and a worse morning. We got three masks off Blackwell. One has your dumb face in it. I gave you another to polish. Where's the third?" You end in a scream.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know!" he screams back, looking angry and scared and bewildered.<br/>
<br/>
A red mist forms in front of your face. Gordon Black is howling in your head, and it's all you can do to stop yourself from smashing Jeremy's face in. You dig deeply at your eyes with the heels of your hands.<br/>
<br/>
"Unless," Jeremy says slowly. "Seth said something last night, about using a mask to make a copy of Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
You look up sharply. "You think that fucker stole one?"<br/>
<br/>
Now he does look scared. "Maybe. Please, Gordon, don't do anything to him."</span></div></div>


