# chapters

path: 1133121112112111111132121323212
author_id: seuzz
title: Theater of the Absurd
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I think I'm gonna stay in today," you tell Eva.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Will," she snorts. "You're not gonna <i>mope,</i> are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm not <i>moping!</i>" you reply as you slump into the chair at your desk. "I just don't feel like— Anyway, I think my dad's gonna want me around the house to do some work. He's got that look in his eye."<br/>
<br/>
"That's why you want to come out here," Eva insists, "so you don't get caught."<br/>
<br/>
"He'd just call and make me come back home. No, listen, um," you interrupt her before she can interrupt you. "If it turns out I'm not busy here, I'll text you back, maybe come out."<br/>
<br/>
"We're gonna be getting started right after lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll let you know. Yeah, um, later." You hang up.<br/>
<br/>
But almost you text her back, to ask for directions out to wherever she and her friends are meeting. <i>For fuck's sake,</i> you ask yourself, <i>what's the matter with you? You've got a cheerleader— No, two cheerleaders— No, </i>three<i> cheerleaders, if Cindy's going to be out there— And maybe more than than that, if Yumi and Lin are along. And you'd rather sit at home doing fuck-all instead of sitting in a dark room, surrounded by cheerleaders, watching a movie? You are </i>really<i> pathetic, man!</i><br/>
<br/>
And here's proof of how pathetic you are: Instead rousing yourself to chase after something you've fantasized about for years—Cheerleaders! Who want to hang out with you!—you slump deeper into your chair and deeper into your funk.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's on account of the disaster at Meghan Farris's party last night, probably. You tell Caleb all about it when you get together with him after lunch. <i>How about that?</i> you grumble to yourself as you drive over his house. <i>I won't hang out with cheerleaders, but I will hang out with Caleb Johansson.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I heard there was gonna be a thing over her place last night," he says when you told him you went over to Meghan's. His mom is out running errands, but you flop in his bedroom, as you usually do when you go over to  his place. "How was it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was a disaster. I was only there ten minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I coulda predicted that."<br/>
<br/>
"Based on what?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb gives you a look. "So what happened? How was it a disaster?"<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. "Well, Kelsey Blankenship was there, for a start."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb hoots. "Whoa, fuck me," he says. "Yeah, that's already begging for trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"And I kind of bumped into her and spilled punch on her."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stares. Then he claps his hands together and laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Really? Oh, <i>fuck me!</i> And you were there only ten minutes? Way to go, man, that's a record even for you!"<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't my fault! Stephanie Wyatt went galloping through and she bumped into me!"<br/>
<br/>
"What, she bumped into you and you bumped into Kelsey?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well ... More like 'fell onto' Kelsey. It was, like—"<br/>
<br/>
You give him the whole story, from Stephanie charging past and knocking you over, to you knocking Kelsey onto her ass and spilling punch all over her while sitting on her, to Kelsey shrieking like a steam locomotive barreling out of a tunnel while she slapped at you. In fact, you spare yourself nothing in the telling, and include your silly attempt to dab the punch off Kelsey's bosom with a napkin, a would-be chivalrous gesture that was terminated when she kneed you in the ball sack.<br/>
<br/>
"Some of the people had to pull me away from her," you glumly conclude as Caleb fights for breath in the midst of a laughing jag, "and when Cassie said maybe we should go someplace else, I just had her take me home."<br/>
<br/>
"Auuuugggghhhhh!" Caleb howls when he's caught his breath, and then he spends another minute catching it again. "That is so brilliant! I need to design and build a time machine, so I can go back and see it first hand. You don't think anyone filmed it on their cell, do you?" He spins around in his chair to the laptop. "That would be, like, the best thing ever!"<br/>
<br/>
"I am going to be so dead at school on Monday."<br/>
<br/>
"No you're not," Caleb retorts as he clicks open a browser window. "Who would care enough to kill <i>you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You have to acknowledge his comment with a shrug. If it was Chelsea Cooper or Cindy Vredenburg, or any other girl with a jock-asshole boyfriend, then yeah, you'd be dead by nine o'clock on Monday morning. But Kelsey hasn't got a boyfriend (that you know of) and she hangs out with a snotty country-club kind of crowd. The worst they can do is cold-shoulder at you.<br/>
<br/>
Cold-shoulder you <i>more</i> than they already do.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Or,</i> you reflect with a twinge of fear, <i>post horrible things about me on social media.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Eh, I don't see anything," Caleb says after a minute of cursory searching. "Maybe no one got it, if it happened as fast as you made it sound. But when's the next party you're going to?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Why? No!" you exclaim when you see his grin. "No!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb snatches up his cell phone from off his desk and turns the camera onto you.<br/>
<br/>
"If we could restage and reenact it," he chortles, "I guarantee you a hundred thousand hits on YouTube. Maybe a million. Maybe ten million! C'mon, Will. Don't you wanna be an internet star?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're finally able to put a stopper in Caleb's teasing when he asks if there's any other parties this weekend you could maybe crash and spill stuff over people at. "No!" you retort. "But let's go do something instead of hanging out here. Maybe I could trip you and push you into a lake if we went out and did something."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you want to do?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug, but after some back and forth, you agree to go see a movie. Caleb texts Keith to see if he would be interested, and forty minutes later the three of you are lined up to buy popcorn at the concession stand of the Silver Cineplex up by the mall.<br/>
<br/>
Keith nudges you as you're trying to decide whether to spend your meager resources on a medium popcorn, or to splurge on the large with free refills. "Check out who just came in," he says, and visibly stiffens all over. You glance back. <i>Oh hell,</i> you think. <i>I wouldn't mind sitting next to </i>that<i> in a dark theater!</i><br/>
<br/>
"That" is Mia DeWitt, one of your classmates from your Film class. You don't spend a lot of time scoping out Mia, because she usually sits on the other side of the classroom, a few rows behind. But you make sure to make up for it now. She's dressed in skin-tight jeans and boots, and a black t-shirt that clings tightly to every curve of her hourglass torso. Her long, reddish-brown hair, which falls in gentle curves past her elbows, is kept in place by a knitted cap that she wears at a rakish angle, like a beret. A tartan-plaid ribbon hangs around her neck, at the end of which dangles a laminated card.<br/>
<br/>
She's not alone. There's another girl with her: tall, with a bold, Romanesque nose, and dark, straight hair that hangs to her shoulders. She's dressed in distressed jeans and a tie-dyed t-shirt, and her eye, when it fixes on you, is friendly but direct.<br/>
<br/>
You would play rock-paper-scissors with Keith and Caleb for the right to take these girls into the auditorium, except that they've brought boys of their own for company. No one has an arm around anyone else, and it's impossible to tell if anyone is supposed to be with anyone else in particular, but Andy Tackett (another classmate from Mr. Hawks's Film class) and Karl Hennepin are sauntering up with them. Tackett, as usual, is dressed down in dirty jeans and a gray hoodie; Hennepin, even with his puffy blonde hair jammed under the ever-present fedora, looks like he rolled out of bed in sweat pants, flip-flops, and a long-sleeve t-shirt.<br/>
<br/>
"Tilley. Prescott," Tackett greets you in his surprisingly resonant baritone. "<i>Quo vadis?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Nothing much," you reply. You're having a hard time keeping your eyes on his face and off of Mia's. "What are you here to see?"<br/>
<br/>
Mia gives you a look, and Andy snorts. "<i>Quo vadis,</i>" he repeats. "Aren't you here for the special showing?"<br/>
<br/>
You and Keith exchange a glance. Tackett snickers. "What <i>are</i> you here to see?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Cravenmoor</i>."<br/>
<br/>
Now Tackett laughs out loud. "Pfeh, yeah, I saw that last week," he says. "You'll like it. You in line?" You glance back to see the concession agent waiting for you.<br/>
<br/>
"Large popcorn, small Coke," you tell the guy. "So, uh, how'd you do on your paper for Mr. Hawks?" you ask Mia. She's standing off to the side, but you'd rather talk to her than Tackett.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't write one." She only gives you the barest of glances. "I'm doing the four big term papers instead of the one-and-nine option."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, that's pretty ballsy of you." Instantly you regret your word choice at the look she gives you. "So, uh, how many you written so far?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just one. <i>Red River.</i> Gonna write the second one this week." She studies the concession board.<br/>
<br/>
"What on?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Quo vadis."<br/>
<br/>
Shit.</i> Only now does it occur to you that maybe Tackett was talking about a movie when he kept saying that phrase. "Is that an option?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Her expression turns furtive. <br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," she murmurs. "You sit closer to the front of the room, you can probably hear Mr. Hawks better when he talks."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Bitch,</i> you think as she pushes ahead of you to order her own snacks.<br/>
<br/>
"Careful with your Coke," the other girl tells you as you pick your own stuff up. "I saw what you did to Kelsey last night."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Rachel Bell," Tilley tells you in the theater, when you ask who that other girl was. "Why?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't know. But her name is one of the first to pop into your head later that night when an anonymous text sends you a link to a post on x2z.com: <i>You've just been cursed. Pass it on?</i></span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232122
author_id: seuzz
title: A Bitch Slap
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>The hell?</i> you wonder. You didn't even know it was possible to send anonymous texts to people. Not until you've hit the link do you think, <i>Shit, I probably shouldn't have touched that.</i><br/>
<br/>
It looks okay, though, other than the fact that it's taken you to x2z.com, the shittiest social media site ever created. It's like a cross between Instagram and Twitter, where you can post threads of images, memes, short videos, and tiny bursts of text. You can do it anonymously, too, and anyone can jump in reply to anyone else's threads. There's a lot of competition to see who can launch and maintain the longest-running and most active threads.<br/>
<br/>
Or so you've heard. You tend to stay away far away from it. The company encourages micro-communities to form and self-select inside its larger ecosystem, and Westside High is one of the places that has its own x2z domain. From all you've heard, whs.x2z makes the school itself seem like a church social.<br/>
<br/>
It's a new thread that you've been tagged in, and when you scroll back you find that it was started by Cindy Vredenburg: <i>Tag! You're Cursed! Pass It On!</i> It sounds exactly like something Cindy would be into. You're only surprised to see that she "cursed" Jessica Garner, who you thought was her friend. Jessica has cursed Michael Hollister, who cursed Philip Fairfax, who cursed Eva Garner, who cursed Josiah Shank, who cursed ... you? What did you ever do to Josiah Shank?<br/>
<br/>
Okay, it must be a friendly tease. After hunting around, you determine that the way to "curse" someone is by tagging them with their x2z handle.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Wait.</i> You scroll around. <i>Do I even have an x2z handle?</i> Apparently you do— willmprescott.whs@x2z—even though you don't remember making an account.<br/>
<br/>
Almost you put your phone back down, but you're irked enough that you text Eva to ask about it: <i>Hey how cm I got cursed?</i><br/>
<br/>
It's five minutes before she replies: <i>??<br/>
<br/>
Josiah shank cursed me a x2z.<br/>
<br/>
Lol just a game Will who u curse?<br/>
<br/>
Dont know how,</i> you lie.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Whats there x2z name?<br/>
<br/>
Dont know havemt pickd somon</i><br/>
<br/>
A minute later she texts back: <i>Give me name n I'll find thm.</i><br/>
<br/>
You snort to yourself. This is so stupid. <i>U.<br/>
<br/>
Lol. Cant curse me or anyone alredy cursd.</i><br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. You're a little spun up anyway, and there's some girls you wouldn't mind "cursing." It might even make you feel better.</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132321223
author_id: seuzz
title: Cursed!
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Curse someone? Kelsey Blankenship is the first girl to come to mind, and not just on account of what happened the other night at Meghan Farris's party. She's a rich, snotty, boastful, condescending, preening and overweening bitch who is long overdue for a karmic comeuppance. And if this internet "curse" turns out to be the feather that finally breaks the scales of justice and brings the roof down on her head? Well, that would be <i>awesome.</i><br/>
<br/>
So even though Kelsey is one of Eva's and Jessica's friends, it's her name that you text back.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe they see the justice in it too, for Eva texts back, <i>Lol,</i> followed by <i>DONE!</i><br/>
<br/>
But that's when fear seizes you by the heart and throat: <i>Done what?</i> you wonder. To Eva you hurriedly text: <i>Shes not gong t knw I did it is she?<br/>
<br/>
No its all anonymus.</i><br/>
<br/>
That satisfies you for maybe thirty minutes, until you remember that you were able to use the curse tag itself to track it back to Josiah. Dread grips your chest as you check x2z throughout the rest of the night. But you don't see any sign of the "curse" thread being extended, so maybe Eva thought better. It's not a good idea to get crossways with Kelsey.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Keith comes by your house Sunday afternoon so you can work on an assignment for Mr. Hawks together. Both of you, it turns out, are smarting a little from that run-in Saturday afternoon with Mia DeWitt and Andy Tackett, and you decide to work together writing some short papers for class on the movie you saw. Fortunately, <i>Cravenmoor</i> has already been out a week and is already up on pirate sites, so you're able to watch it again while stopping it, rewinding it, and arguing about it together. You're not exactly proud of the paper you end up writing, but you bet it'll score you a better grade than the C+ you got for the last paper you wrote, on an old piece-of-crap detective movie from the forties.<br/>
<br/>
After the weirdness of the last couple of days, Monday starts out refreshingly boring. Kelsey rather pointedly ignores you in Mr. Walberg's first period class, but that's normal for her. Mr. Hawks frowns and twitches his eyebrows when you hand your paper in second period, but that's normal too. Third and fourth period are also normal. Not until lunch time, which you take out on the grassy front quad with a larger group of friends, are you even reminded of the events of last weekend.<br/>
<br/>
"Heard you tried melting the Wicked Witch of Westside last Friday," Carson Ioeger cackles. It's raining, so your group is huddled under the eaves outside the library instead of stretching out on the grass. James Lamont is sitting between you and Carson, so you have to look around and past in order to ask Carson what he's talking about. "You dunked Kelsey in the punchbowl at a party."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't 'dunk' her," you retort. "Though I wish I had."<br/>
<br/>
"Wishes and fishes," James snorts. "You wouldn'a had the guts."<br/>
<br/>
"Will's too much of a gentleman to do anything like that," Jenny Ashton puts in from farther down the line.<br/>
<br/>
Carson's guffaw is asthmatic. "Sure. He's a gentleman! That's how come he dresses in top hat and tails wherever he goes."<br/>
<br/>
"The point is—!"<br/>
<br/>
"The point is he dunked Kelsey good and hard," Carson interrupts Jenny. "The point is we all wish we'd been there to see it."<br/>
<br/>
"Wishes and fishes," you retort, turning James's sarcastic aside against his friend.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Carson demands.<br/>
<br/>
You glower at being caught. "Ask your boyfriend," you grumble back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The point, you decide later, isn't that you splashed a full cup of punch all over Kelsey Blankenship, and the point isn't that Carson and friends wish they'd been there to see it. The point is that it's a topic of conversation at school. You're so used to being ignored—except by a select group of bullies and lowlifes—that it didn't even occur to you that people might be talking about you and the incident. And of course, if they were talking about it in the school itself, they would be talking about it online. So you spend your seventh-period study hall prowling the various social media sites to see what news you can pick up.<br/>
<br/>
It takes you awhile to figure out and find the handles of the usual suspects who'd be talking about it all: not just Kelsey (who naturally is silent about it), but those of her friends and of the girls you are sure would probably gossip about it. But Meghan Farris doesn't talk about it in her party-related posts at Instagram, and neither do any of the people who post replies to her at Twitter or other places. Neither do Chelsea Cooper nor Kendra Saunders, who you are sure would have something snarky to say about Kelsey and her Prescott-related mishap. It's not until you drill down deep, finding the friends of the friends of friends of these people, do you find any talk about it. So it's guys like Charles Hartlein and Christian Padilla, and girls like Rebecca Sykes and Brianna Gould, that are chortling about it online The consensus seems to be glee that Kelsey got humiliated, which cheers you slightly; then you notice that no one seems to know you well enough to even connect you to the incident. <i>Some nine-ball,</i> Christian Padilla says on Twitter when asked who splashed Kelsey, to which Charles replies, <i>LOL. I know who it was but like it matters.</i> With a grimace, you resolve to put the thing behind you and to never speak or think of it again.<br/>
<br/>
Then, after school, the roof falls in.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You stayed late at Keith's request to study with him in the library—he seems to have suddenly gotten keen about his grades—and were trudging out to your truck when he texted you from inside the school to ask you to meet him behind the Agricultural Annex. It was a mysterious request but you complied. (The rain had stopped, though the clouds continued to hang heavily overhead.) You waited patiently there for a few minutes before he texted you again to ask you to wait because he was going to be late, then texted to tell you <i>nvr mind. <br/>
<br/>
Teh fuck do u want?</i> you peevishly replied.<br/>
<br/>
<i>hidng frm seth,</i> he texted back. <i>ffs,</i> you retorted. <br/>
<br/>
So you've just put your phone away and are bending to pick up your pack when you hear a rush of feet behind and are grabbed by strong hands. You're lofted into the air and rushed toward the old portables that sag and rot behind the school.<br/>
<br/>
You nearly shit yourself, of course, and you nearly shit yourself again when someone calls out, "Hey Seth, where you off to with that thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, man!" a voice shouts back, right in your ear. "None of your fucking business!" He's answered by laughter.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Seth Javits.</i> Basketball player. Bully. Asshole. He couldn't find your friend Keith, so apparently he's settling for you.<br/>
<br/>
And he's got help. "Goddamn, he's heavy," a voice mutters in your other ear as you're hustled into the lane between two portables. "Should tell Roth and them they should come help." Javits retorts with another curse.<br/>
<br/>
They hurl you against the door to one of the portables, jolting every bone in your body, and hurl you against it a second time before one of them reaches past to twist the knob. You are thrust into a gloomy, dusty interior that smells of old wood and metal. A foot hooks you by the ankle and a hand between your shoulder blades pushes you to the floor. You catch it in your knees and elbows, and wince hard.<br/>
<br/>
Then you're grabbed and flipped over onto your back. You've just time to see two faces—the grinning face of Seth Javits, and the frowning face of Darren Green, one of his teammates—before Javits sits on your chest. "Get ready for some fun, Prescott," he gloats at you, and covers your eyes with one hand. "Mask."<br/>
<br/>
You're too frozen with terror to comprehend what is happening. Your eyes are still closed when Seth takes his hand away, and then something solid is pushed onto your face, shutting out all light. You try to twist out from under it, but your neck and every joint in your body seem to freeze. Everything hangs for a moment. Then you feel a great weight pressing down on your face, like an anvil has been set there. Strangely, it is not an unpleasant feeling, and you've just time to think, <i>It's just like going to sleep!</i> before you feel yourself dragged down into a warm, cocooning darkness and know no more.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You feel gross and grimy when you awake, and your clothes are wrapped about you funny. <i>Oh God,</i> you grumble as you clench your eyes shut and try willing yourself back asleep. <i>Did I pass out in my clothes again?</i> You've an acrid headache, and you'd like nothing more than to push yourself back into unconsciousness. <i>Woke up too soon,</i> you mumble to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
But the pain flattens and evaporates after a minute or two, leaving you in a state of wakeful exhaustion. You pry your eyes open and blink at the world. It is dingy and ugly, and it takes you a moment to realize you're staring at a twisted pile of broken school desks while laying curled up on your side.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The fucking hell?</i> you wonder as you sit up with a frown. <i>I'm in one of the portables! How the fuck did I—?</i><br/>
<br/>
Then it all comes back to you, like a thunderclap. The text from Keith; Jeremiah James following you out to your car; Javits and Green grabbing you from behind; Jeremiah leaning into your car and putting a thing to your face.<br/>
<br/>
You retch with wonder and horror as these and other memories swirl and merge in your head. You're shaking hard as you take your cell phone from your bag and turn the camera on.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey Blankenship, a stricken expression on her face, blinks back at you from the screen.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323212231
author_id: seuzz
title: Dress Reversal
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>The fuck?</i> You start to tremble all over.<br/>
<br/>
You are sitting on the floor of one of the old, smelly portable units behind the school. It is cold and stinks like the inside of an old railroad boxcar. Gloomy light filters in through the dirty windows.<br/>
<br/>
As though in a dream, you remember being carried in here by Seth Javits and his friend Darren Green and thrown to the floor. Seth sat on you. <i>Get ready for some fun, Prescott,</i> he said.<br/>
<br/>
Because that's who you were and are, right? Will Prescott?<br/>
<br/>
Then why does it feel like a dream that someone else had? And how come you have Kelsey Blankenship's face?<br/>
<br/>
More than her face, you discover as you glance down. Your legs are smooth and tawny, and you swallow at the sight of the boobs that hang off your chest beneath your shirt. A long lock of brown hair falls into your face. <br/>
<br/>
You are also dressed like Kelsey, in her tennis shorts and white-and-blue striped workout shirt. Your feet are bare, though, but her sneakers and socks are sitting nearby, next to a bag that you recognize as hers.<br/>
<br/>
A bra is sitting nearby as well, and as you sit up you have to grab a boob to keep it from wobbling freely. The clothes you're wearing are twisted about on your frame, as though you'd fallen asleep in them, or been dressed by someone else.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Seth and Darren!</i> you think in a panic. <i>They got my clothes off me and then they—</i> You bend almost double, feeling like you're going to be sick. <i>What were they planning to do to me out here?</i><br/>
<br/>
Okay, never mind what they were <i>planning</i> to do. What did<i> they do?</i><br/>
<br/>
You scramble to your feet and hop over to a window to peer out. You see nothing but the wall of portable opposite. You tiptoe over to the door, and it creaks as you pull it open to peep out. The coast seems to be clear.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I have to get out of here,</i> you wildly think as you shut the door again. <i>I have to get out of here before someone sees me, catches me, before Seth and Darren come back! I have to get home! I'll be okay once I get home!</i><br/>
<br/>
Except ... where is home? The house in Acheson, where the Prescotts live? Or the house in the country northwest of town, where the Blankenships live?<br/>
<br/>
You decide to worry about that later. The important thing is to get away from the school, to get off someplace where you can do a little thinking without worrying you'll be interrupted.<br/>
<br/>
And as if on cue, as you're snatching up the bra and shoes, your cell phone chimes with a text. Instinctively you check it. It's from Amanda Ferguson: <i>Running late?</i><br/>
<br/>
You cuss to yourself. You—or Kelsey—somebody—was supposed to meet with Amanda at the Milagro Beanfield Warehouse after school. You hesitate, then tap in a quick, procrastinating reply: <i>Yes be threr when I can.</i><br/>
<br/>
You have to sweep off your shirt before you can put the bra on, and you chatter to distract yourself as you snap it into place and tuck yourself in. <i>I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe this is happening. What the fuck? You know, what the effing fuck?</i><br/>
<br/>
Once your shoes are on, you shove your hair back from your face—it's probably a mess—and creep back over to the door. Still, no one is in sight. But as you step out onto the grass you hear voices. You tiptoe to the corner of another portable to have another look around. <i>Shit,</i> you think. Justin Roth and his friend Perry are sprawled a little ways away. Normally you wouldn't mind a chance to talk to them. Justin's hot, and sometimes when you've got the itch bad, it's his face and burning-to-the-touch torso that you fantasize are pressing down on you as you—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, fuck! Where did that come from?</i> You grit your teeth.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you really are Kelsey. The thought makes you shudder. Because how fucked up would it be if you were Kelsey Blankenship, and you got conked on the head and woke up with the delusion that you used to be Will Prescott?<br/>
<br/>
<i>I mean, really! Gross!</i><br/>
<br/>
You edge away from where Justin and Perry are sitting, and by taking a wide loop out into the weedy fields that border the school grounds to the west you are able to get all the way over to the Music wing without being seen by anybody. After that you hurry across the front quad until you hit the student parking lot. The latter is mostly empty, for it's nearly ninety minutes now since school let out, and even the students staying late for school athletics—like, er, you, for tennis—have departed. So the only cars of note in the lot are Gordon Black's orange VW Bug, Kelsey Blankenship's little green BMW convertible, and Will Prescott's white pick-up truck.<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. Okay, that's your truck over there, because <i>you're</i> Will Prescott. But you haven't got the keys to it, do you? You drop to one knee to look through your bag. <i>No,</i> you discover. <i>Just my books—well, Kelsey's books—and her makeup case and billfold and her own keys.</i> So does that leave you stuck having to drive her car?<br/>
<br/>
Then a chill washes over you, and the world spins.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Where's the real Kelsey?</i> You whirl and look around.<br/>
<br/>
You've been concentrating so much on your own situation and problem that you haven't even thought about the real girl. Her car's still here, so she's still got to be around someplace, and what is she going to think when she comes out and finds <i>you,</i> Will Prescott, wearing her clothes and carrying her bag and looking just like her? She'll tear your face off!<br/>
<br/>
Which might be the solution to it all.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. Your brain is a tangle of weirdness.<br/>
<br/>
Cautiously, you half-skip, half-sprint over to your truck. You can't bring yourself to abandon it, and you have the goofy semi-impression that if you look inside it, you'll find yourself sprawling across the bench. You slow up as you approach, and are chewing your lip nervously as you touch the door. Your skin prickles all over as you put your face to the window to look inside.<br/>
<br/>
The cabin is empty, save for your book bag, which is spilled half-open in the passenger-side seat. That bothers you for some reason, and it takes a distracted moment for you to realize why.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I had my bag with me in the library. I had it with me when I went to meet Keith. So how did it get—</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hey!"<br/>
<br/>
You whirl guiltily at the shout. A lanky kid with a shock of blonde hair under a sloppy white ball cap is gaping at you from halfway across the parking lot. He stares at you with bulging eyes. Then his mouth twists up into a snarl, and he rushes at you.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck do you think you're doing?" a very pissed-off Will Prescott demands of you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The shock of confronting yourself still hasn't worn off, and your nerves are keyed up so tight that you can feel a headache coming on. <i>I shouldn't be drinking this coffee,</i> you tell yourself as you lift the mug to your lips. <i>Even if it is decaf.</i> But you swallow it down anyway. It's long since chilled to room temperature.<br/>
<br/>
And across the formica-topped table, Will Prescott slumps and glares out the window at the street.<br/>
<br/>
He's scrawny and unkempt, with a thick and unruly thatch of hair, like a haystack, piled up under his cap, and with weird hairs sticking out on his chin and upper lip and cheekbones. <i>He looks like a scarecrow,</i> you think to yourself. <i>A couple of sticks that have been tied together, wrapped up in baggy clothes, with a bale of hay-and-burlap jammed onto his shoulders to make a head.</i> Even if you cleaned him up, he'd be gawky and fumble-footed. The kindest thing would be to fold him up and put him on a shelf in a closet.<br/>
<br/>
He seems to sense your gaze, for his eyes slide over to glare at you. "What?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I'm just feeling sorry for you," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," he mutters, and his glare deepens. "You know more about this than you're letting on!"<br/>
<br/>
It hasn't been a pleasant hour. It took you and this guy maybe ten seconds out in the Westside parking lot to figure out who the other really was—that you're Will Prescott, and that he is Kelsey Blankenship—and that you've somehow been "body swapped," like in a bad fantasy movie. Kelsey, always quick to think the worst of others, instantly accused you of being responsible, and even now she doesn't believe your hot, insistent denials. For ten minutes you snarled at each other in the parking lot before agreeing to move down the road to Panera for a more civilized conference. (She insisted on driving her BMW; you drove your own truck, though it left you feeling ridiculous.) She started all up again with the accusations when you admitted that you seemed to remember and know a lot about her, while she claimed to know nothing about you. Somehow, it's all the worse because you can "remember" being accosted in her BMW by Jeremiah James, one of the school's soccer players, while she has no memory of being carried out to the portables by Seth Javits and Darren Green.<br/>
<br/>
So you're feeling peevish when your phone chimes again. <i>That'll be Amanda,</i> you think, <i>wondering if I fell in.</i><br/>
<br/>
Maybe you should leave. Kelsey is being beyond useless. It would serve her right if you abandoned her and just took over her life, as it now seems to be yours.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232122312
author_id: seuzz
title: Homework for a Body Swap
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Look, I don't know what you want from me," you snap at the guy sitting across the table from you. "You want me to feel sorry for you? I told you I do. You want me to fix things? Believe me, I would if I knew how." Your tablemate's eyes narrow with skepticism. "'Cos I'm no happier about this than you are," you continue. "Believe me, this as much a nightmare for me as it is for you. So can you please be a <i>little more pleasant,</i> so we can get through this, whatever <i>this</i> is?"<br/>
<br/>
The guy who looks like you scowls back. You return his glare come <i>this close</i> to grabbing your bag and stalking out. You're stopped only by the premonition that if you did, it would blow things up worse than you can imagine.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," Will finally grumbles. "So what do you want to do about this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, for a start," you tell him, "give me your phone—my phone—the phone you should have in your pocket—so I can text my parents."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you gonna tell them?" he asks as he hands it over.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to tell them that I'm eating out with a friend. That <i>you're</i> eating out with a friend," you correct yourself. "Oh, fuck it," you grumble. "That way you don't have to deal with them over supper at least."<br/>
<br/>
Your thumbs fly over the screen of the phone a lot faster and with a lot fewer spelling errors than usual, you notice, and when you do misspell a word, you find yourself automatically backing up to correct it. "There," you say as you hand the phone back. "Now you can hang out someplace until nine o'clock or so before going home and dealing with—"<br/>
<br/>
"Now do you want to give me <i>my</i> phone so I can text <i>my</i> parents?" he sneers.<br/>
<br/>
"I think I know how to—! Oh, fine!" You pull out Kelsey's phone and shove it across the table. "Knock yourself out."<br/>
<br/>
"Where do you live?" he asks as he taps at the screen.<br/>
<br/>
"Acheson." You give him your address. "There's my mom and dad and my kid brother, Robert. But maybe," you add, grabbing for hope anywhere you can, "something'll happen to clear all this up before we have to, you know, go back to each other's places."<br/>
<br/>
He looks up, and you see it in his eyes, the same thought that just occurred to you:<br/>
<br/>
If you go back to each other's places tonight, you'll be sleeping in each other's beds.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Neither of you want to go home to confront a strange set of parents, so it's easy enough to temporize by lingering at Panera. You've both got homework to do anyway. Together you move to a booth in the back near the restrooms. The guy who looks like you visibly shivers as you pass a table where Maria Vasquez sits alone, vacantly staring off toward the side of the restaurant where you'd been sitting. You ignore her, and ask your companion what's biting him.<br/>
<br/>
"What if someone sees us together?"<br/>
<br/>
"God!" you cry. "You're such a <i>snob!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"No! I just mean— If someone sees us and comes over to talk, how'm I supposed to act?"<br/>
<br/>
"You keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. That's what <i>I'd</i> do."<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't even be sitting with me."<br/>
<br/>
"There you go, being a snob again!"<br/>
<br/>
You slide into a booth, exchange back packs, and take out your books. After getting settled, you shoot off a text to Amanda, telling her that something came up and you'll be going home instead of meeting her. Then you turn to the homework.<br/>
<br/>
Each of you works on your own—the homework you'd be doing if it wasn't for this bizarre situation. But even then weird things happen, at least with you. You're half a paragraph into a short paper for English before you realize that you're writing it out in Kelsey's gracefully looping curls, and you have to actually look back at some of your own handwriting before you can remember how to make your own chicken scratches. You also find yourself momentarily blanking out on how to do your Calculus homework.<br/>
<br/>
The dinner crowd has long since filtered in and begun to buzz at the tables near yours by the time you are finishing up your assignments. Kelsey, who is taking harder classes than you are—an AP World History class and an AP French class, for a start—is still working on her stuff as you check over your own work. When you are done, you sit back with your cell phone—your own; Kelsey has reclaimed hers for the time being, and has been answering the texts that pop up—and go on the internet. On a hunch, you do a Google search on "body swapping." It doesn't pull up anything very interesting. (Not that you were hoping for a "Eureka!" at the top of the results.) Lists of body-swapping comedies, mostly, along with links to some psychological experiments involving VR.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?" Will asks after you've swiped through a couple of pages. You tell him. "Find anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." You set the phone down. "Do you think this has happened to anyone else?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't believe it happened to <i>me.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You make a face at the top of his head as he bends to continue his homework, and sit back to let your mind drift back to those first, horrible moments after you awoke in your new situation, and the worse moments that prefaced it.<br/>
<br/>
"Seth and Darren," you muse. "Obviously they had something to do with it. Jeremiah, too. Do you think we should try talking to them?"<br/>
<br/>
Will doesn't answer right away, but keeps working on some French homework. "Do you really know any of them?" he asks at last. "Because I don't."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't either. Except that Seth—" You shudder. "The only time I see Seth is when he's looking for someone to hassle." You notice that Will stops writing in mid-sentence, and holds his pencil position there for a few moments, before resuming his work. "Lester Pozniak's the one you need to watch out for at school tomorrow, though," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
He still says nothing, but only goes back to writing. You settle back in your side of the booth, and look around the restaurant. It looks like mostly college kids in the place, along with middle-aged married couples. But Maria is still at her table, bending over her own school work. <i>She must be having a hell of a time of it,</i> you spitefully think, <i>airhead that she is!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's closer to eight o'clock than to seven when Kelsey finally finishes. You kill a little more time at Panera, but she is restless and irritable, and you move to end the evening by suggesting that she follow you back into Acheson so you can show her your house. You take her BMW—though she is obviously, vastly, reluctant to turn the keys over to you—and she drives your truck. But after pausing in front of your house, you lean out of the car to gesture her to follow you, and lead her a couple of blocks over to the old elementary school.<br/>
<br/>
It's a decades-old building, and even before you were born it had been repurposed into a community center for the township. Night has fallen as you lead your hapless doppelganger to the old swing set that still stands in the middle of the playground. <br/>
<br/>
"I just wanted to tell you that you'll be okay, Kelsey," you tell her as you drop into one of the swings, to rock lightly back and forth in it. For now that you're at the point of no return (or so it seems), you want to offer her some reassurance. "I don't have an interesting life. I don't have a lot of friends, and I don't go out to parties or belong to any school clubs. You just need to show up at school and not make waves. That's all."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't reply, and it floors you when you realize she's fighting back tears.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just so scared," she whispers. "Not of going back to your place, or tomorrow," she adds. "But of <i>this!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You know what she means, of course. You don't feel the least bit scared of going back to Kelsey's house, or of school tomorrow, because you know what to expect and how to handle it. But you also feel a pit of terror in your stomach, and you guess she's got the same feeling.<br/>
<br/>
It's homesickness.<br/>
<br/>
You are leaving behind everything you ever had—everything you have ever been, including yourself—and moving into something completely new. It gives you the same feeling (but magnitudes worse) as when you changed schools.<br/>
<br/>
And it's got to be so much worse for Kelsey, who has much less idea of what is coming, and is stepping into something a lot worse.  A wave of sympathetic horror washes over you.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey continues to weep. You reach for her, but hesitate with your hand in mid-air for a moment, before settling it on her shoulder. You squeeze and massage it, but she seems to take no notice.<br/>
<br/>
"I know, Kelsey," you tell her. "Oh God, believe me, if I could fix this—whatever <i>this</i> is—I would."<br/>
<br/>
"You sure are taking it pretty well," she snuffles. "Better than me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you just wait until I get home," you tell her. "I'll probably break down and have a really good cry myself." You massage her shoulder harder. "And you don't have to go back to my place right away. We can stay out here as long as you want."</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132321223121
author_id: seuzz
title: Alone With Her Thoughts
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's dark on the old school playground, but not so dark you can't make out the figure rocking lightly in the swing next to you. It's Kelsey Blankenship, though she has the body of Will Prescott. She is shuddering slightly as she weeps into her hands.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey snuffles some more, then pats her eyes with the back of her hand.<br/>
<br/>
"No," she says with a gulp. "I should go— go back to your place. Face things. It's the waiting that's freaking me out." <br/>
<br/>
"That'a girl," you tell her, and stroke her upper arm. "But <i>Jesus,</i> Kelsey, you're such a ... a <i>strong person.</i> If anyone could ... could knock this thing down and kick its guts out, you can!"<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey turns in the swing to look at you. Her face—your old face—looks less rabbity and more fox-like in the quarter-light from a distant street lamp.<br/>
<br/>
"And between the two of us," you tell her with a lot more certainty that you know is warranted, "we'll figure out what's going on, and we'll fix it! You know? We'll <i>get ourselves</i> back the way we were!"<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey stares at you with an expression you can't read clearly in the dark, then looks away. She makes a strange, whimpering noise that disconcerts you until you realize it's suppressed laughter.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry," she says, and there's a hysterical edge to her voice. "It's just that that's the <i>weirdest</i> pep talk I think I've ever had!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, if it was funny for you to listen to, how funny do you think it was for me to say?"<br/>
<br/>
You squeeze her arm, and you both get out of your swings at the same time, to turn to face each other.<br/>
<br/>
And you both freeze. The moment hangs for a moment.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure who made the first move, and who followed it. It's almost like you both moved at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
But suddenly you are embracing, and squeezing each other so hard it is as if you are trying push your way back into your original bodies.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm back!" you call into the living room from the arched doorway. The room is cavernous, and could probably swallow more than half of your own house, and it contains not only the long, semi-circular sectional couch that Kelsey's parents are sitting on, but another sofa, two love seats, and a divan besides, along with three easy chairs and assorted coffee tables and side tables, lamps and cabinets. If the decor wasn't all matched and complementary, it would look more like a furniture show room than a living room.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey's dad—the owner of the city's largest car dealership—is watching the giant-screen TV with the headphones on, and he only glances over to nod vaguely at you. Mrs. Blankenship looks up from her iPad and smiles. "There's leftovers in the fridge if you haven't eaten yet," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I ate. I did my homework. I'm thinking of getting in the Jacuzzi." As Mrs. Blankenship returns to her iPad, you cross the foyer to mount the stairs. At the top of these, you zigzag through the second-floor hallway until you reach the double-doors that open into your "wing" of the house.<br/>
<br/>
Because the house is so big that Kelsey more or less gets a whole wing to herself.<br/>
<br/>
It's instantly familiar to you, but you can't resist taking a short tour of it anyway. The cozy sitting room/study that looks onto the back yard. The large game room with the open floor and the futons and bean bag chairs and low-slung sofas. And, on the other side of the hallway, the airy bedroom that is as big as yours, your brother's, and your parents', all put together. <i>I wonder how cramped and cooped up Kelsey is feeling right about now?</i> you wonder as you drop your bag—Kelsey's bag—onto the king-size bed. It, the work desk, the armoire and the cabinets and the dressers, only take up a fraction of the space, leaving a floor big enough to practice dance routines in.<br/>
<br/>
Which Kelsey has done. She was on the cheerleading squad until this semester, when she quit it in a huff after Chelsea Cooper outmaneuvered her and packed it with her own friends and supporters.<br/>
<br/>
You unpack Kelsey's bag, which is crammed not only with school books but with the athletic bag into which she stuffed her school clothes after changing into her tennis outfit for after-school practice. After getting the books repacked and the clothes in the hamper, you peel off the clothes you're wearing and change into a thick cotton robe.<br/>
<br/>
What you don't do is take that bath like you hinted to Kelsey's mom, or a shower, even though you still feel the dried-on sweat from tennis practice on you. Though it would feel good, after you evening with Kelsey—and particularly after that pep talk at the old school—you are too shy to do anything really private and invasive with Kelsey's body.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I wonder what Kelsey is doing now,</i> you wonder as you curl up on the bed, hugging your knees to your breast. <i>She's got to be freaked out.</i> You shiver in sympathy. How ghastly is going to be for her when she has to take a piss and handle your junk?<br/>
<br/>
And yet you can't stop thinking about her, and your body, and her inside your body, as you huddle on the bed. There was something ... <i>thrilling</i> ... about that embrace you shared on the darkened playground. And in the tight hug she gave you back, you think you detected a similar thrill in her.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe she was just trying remind herself of what her body felt like, before parting with it, perhaps forever.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Seth Javits, Darren Green, and Jeremiah Jameson.</i> Those guys have to be in back of what happened. They are the last people that you and Kelsey saw before this ... <i>switch</i> ... happened. None of them were very friendly, though Jeremiah did smile at Kelsey as he approached her. <i>Yes, it has to be them.</i><br/>
<br/>
And yet the enormity of what has happened is so great that you shy away from thinking about it. <i>What are Kelsey and I supposed to do?</i> you wonder. <i>Are we supposed to just barge up to those guys and accuse them of ... of doing a </i>body swap<i> on us? That would be crazy! They'd never confess to it!</i><br/>
<br/>
And what would be worse, you realize with a shudder, is what would happen if they went around telling people what you'd accused them of. <i>It would ruin me! Ruin my whole year!</i> a voice wails inside your head.<br/>
<br/>
It's Kelsey's voice. You stifle it, but you don't dismiss it. Whatever you are going to do about this, it has to be done carefully. No waves, no hints to anyone that anything weird is going on with you and Kelsey.<br/>
<br/>
With you and "Will." <i>It's a good thing,</i> you reflect, <i>that I'm such a nobody that nobody pays attention to me. That'll make it easier for Kelsey while I'm able to handle her life.</i><br/>
<br/>
And that's about all that you're able to decide on—to play things by ear, and to see what, if anything, turns up tomorrow—before your concentration starts to wobble. It's been a hard day, a disastrous day, and when you lift your head to shake your head free of it, you are hammered by a sudden sense of exhaustion. <i>Oh, please God,</i> you groan to yourself as you drag yourself into the bathroom to brush your teeth, <i>let me wake up tomorrow in my own house, in my own bed, in my own body! Let this all just be some weird, one-off freakery-deakery!</i><br/>
<br/>
Then, in the bathroom: <i>Did I just use the phrase "freakery-deakery" in my internal monologue?</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're woken the next morning by an insistent chime from beneath your pillow, and you frown fiercely at the screen when you've dragged your phone out from beneath it. It's 6:10—five minutes before the alarm should go off—and Will Prescott is calling you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>What the fuck does that scrawny—?</i><br/>
<br/>
The memory of who you are, and what happened to you yesterday, hits you like a hammer blow. "Yes?" you answer. You can't keep the growl from your voice, though it is fear, not irritation, that you feel.<br/>
<br/>
"It was your friend Keith who did it to us," Will says without preamble.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"It was Keith. He set it up. It had to have been him." Will's voice is feverish with anger. "I'm gonna drag him out back and kick him in the ball sack until he tells me what he did and how he did it!"</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323212231212
author_id: seuzz
title: The First Day of the Rest of Her Life?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You sit up in bed, and do your best to ignore the silk nightie that is sliding off your bosoms.<br/>
<br/>
"Now, hang on there a minute," you chirp at Will. "What makes you think it was Keith that did this thing? He wasn't anywhere near when—"<br/>
<br/>
"He set it up with you, Will," the guy on the other end of the line says. "Don't you remember?"<br/>
<br/>
It takes a moment for his words to register.<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, how do <i>you</i> know that?" you ask. "I thought you couldn't remember anything I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I can remember it now!" His voice boils with impatience. "God! And it's how come I know that—"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just hang on a minute." You slide out of bed. "You're awake, I'm awake, let's meet someplace and talk about this." You rapidly think through possible places and times for a rendezvous. "Salvation Donuts," you suggest. "In an hour?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." But he sounds doubtful. "But why an hour? Why can't we meet—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I gotta get cleaned up if we're gonna go straight from there to school." You hang up and hurl the phone back onto the bed before Kelsey can freak out in your ear about you touching her body in the shower.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
In fact, it's all you can do to <i>not</i> enjoy yourself as you clean up and put yourself together to face the school day. There is something incredibly ... sensitive ... about Kelsey's body, more so than you ever felt inside your own. Probably because you've got boobs and a bush and a great ass to soak and sponge under the hot water. <i>It's gotta be nicer for me doing this,</i> you guiltily think, <i>than for her.</i> Except when you're worked up, you don't like touching your own junk<br/>
<br/>
After the shower you towel off and dress in sloppy shorts and a t-shirt while blow-drying and fluffing out your hair. Then you put on makeup—keeping it a little lighter than usual—then dress conservatively in skinny blue jeans, a white blouse, and high-heeled sandals. You also keep the jewelry to a minimum: a silver pendant on a leather string that curves tightly at the base of your neck, and matching, star-like earrings. You tie a couple of braids into your hair, but let most of it hang freely in the back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Okay, this shouldn't freak her out too bad,</i> you think as you turn around and around, scoping yourself out in the full-length mirror. <i>She'll want me to look good, but not so good that it looks like I'm trying to have fun. And not so good that—</i><br/>
<br/>
You clench your teeth and thrust from your mind <i>The One Big Thing</i> that Kelsey would not like you knowing about her and her life.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your white truck is already parked in front of Salvation Donuts—a dinky donut shop in a strip center on the west side of town—when you arrive, and the gangly Will Prescott is vibrating just inside the door as you sweep inside. You give him a smile, but put him off for a solid minute as you buy a cup of swill-like coffee at the register and take it back to the tiny table behind the front window where your doppelganger is waiting for you.<br/>
<br/>
He's dressed up nice too, you notice. Oh, his hair is still a haystack, barely controlled by that sloppy, dirty cap. But he's scraped all the weird whiskers off his face, and he's dressed in a clean, long-sleeve shirt and jeans. You give him a bright, penetrating smile as you settle into a chair. His own glance is feverish as he drops into the seat opposite you.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so what's all this you remember about Keith?" you ask, and swirl your coffee lightly in its cup. It smells awful and you're not going to drink it. It's just a prop, as far as you're concerned.<br/>
<br/>
"You <i>know</i> what I'm talking about! He set it up," Will growls. "I— You were out at the portables only because he asked you to meet him by the Ag Annex. And then he didn't show up. But Seth and Darren did!"<br/>
<br/>
"Keith said he was hiding from them."<br/>
<br/>
"He was setting us up!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have any proof of that. Besides, it was Seth and Darren, and Jeremiah, who— And did Keith set it up so you'd be sitting in your car when Jeremiah came out?"<br/>
<br/>
Will glowers but doesn't reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Besides, I don't think we should make any waves." Almost you take a sip of your coffee, but you're warded off at the last moment by the stink of it. "If we start running around, accusing people of—" You glance around, but the only other person in the place is the fat woman who owns it. Still, you keep your voice very low. "Of <i>body swapping</i> us, what are people going to think?"<br/>
<br/>
The fire freezes in Will's eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"So you just want to go along like nothing's happened?" he hisses.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I want to fix it. But I don't want to ... to <i>fuck things up</i> for us, for either of us, while this is going on. Besides—" Again you glance around. "Don't you figure that whoever did this will be watching us, to see what we do?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow. "You mean Seth? And Jeremiah?"<br/>
<br/>
"And Darren. Maybe some other people." <br/>
<br/>
Then a sudden thought occurs to you. "You know," you say, "maybe it wasn't even supposed to be you and me who got ... swapped. Keith was hiding from Seth. Maybe it was supposed to be you and <i>him</i> who ... had the thing done to them. Maybe I was just their second choice when they couldn't get to Keith."<br/>
<br/>
Will's eyes bulge, and he shudders all over.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's no fun for you over there," you drawl. "But think how much worse it could be."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do we do?"<br/>
<br/>
You turn to stare out the window. The sky is gray and it's starting to rain again. <i>What a miserable looking day,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
"We show 'em we can take a joke," you suggest when you turn back to your tablemate. "We make it really boring for them, so that they swap us back when they realize we're not going to be any fun."<br/>
<br/>
Will looks staggered for a moment. Then his expression turns thoughtful.<br/>
<br/>
"That's interesting," he says. "So we just go on like nothing's changed!"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly." The more you think about what started as a random idea, the more you like it. "Someone's trying to have some fun with us. I say, 'Fuck 'em'. Let 'em just <i>try</i> to have fun by screwing with us. See how much satisfaction they get." Your lip curls into a happy sneer.<br/>
<br/>
Will stares at the wall behind you. "So who do you think it could be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's gotta be Seth and Darren and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Unless maybe <i>they've</i> been—" Will starts to say. "I mean, if <i>we</i> could be— Maybe they're not ... <i>themselves</i> ... anymore?"<br/>
<br/>
Down that path, you sense, lies paranoia.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's try not to worry about it," you suggest. "It's a thousand to one against us being able to spot who did it. But you said you got my memories now?"<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "I think I've got them all. When I woke up this morning— Well—" He flushes. "At first I thought I was <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"That must have been a nightmare."<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face at you. "But after I got myself sorted out, I realized I was just confused because I was, well, 'remembering' stuff that only you would know."<br/>
<br/>
You can guess what kind of stuff she was "remembering" at that hour of the morning, in your bed, and smile tightly to yourself. <br/>
<br/>
"So you remember my class schedule?" you ask. "You think you can handle my shit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." He makes another face at you. "Like you said yesterday, Will, you don't have the most interesting life."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're not sure what Kelsey meant by that last remark, and whether she meant it as mockery or whether she was actually trying to imitate your personality. You let it slide, and as it is getting on toward eight o'clock now, you suggest leaving for school. Of course, you drive out separately.<br/>
<br/>
At school, in the parking lot, you fuss around with your bag and your phone—and your makeup—until Will has trudged inside. Only then do you clamber out of the BMW, unfurl the tiny umbrella that Kelsey keeps in her car, and stride off toward the gym. It's a wet day, but you can't keep the confidence out of your walk as, with chin up and shoulders back you stride in to class. However harrowing this "body swap" bullshit has been, at least you are swapped with someone who hasn't got a thing to be scared of inside the school.<br/>
<br/>
You're just passing the front doors of the gym when you hear your name—Kelsey's name—called, and turn to find the Garner twins scampering up toward you. Their eyes are bright, and in their t-shirts and shorts they look like they're bursting with health. "Good morning!" they greet you breathlessly as they join you.<br/>
<br/>
"Good morning," you reply. "What's up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing." Jessica giggles. "Just looking forward to the day!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh? Got something planned?"<br/>
<br/>
The Garners tire you out. Well, they tire Kelsey out, and you're on the point of striding off, to let them tag along behind if they do insist on your company, but something in their manner catches your attention. They are both very bright-eyed and eager about something, and you remember your talk with Will at the donut shop: Whoever did this to you is going to be watching to see what kind of fun they've started, and it will probably be some of Kelsey's friends. Well, these two are Kelsey's friends, and they've been acting very weird lately.<br/>
<br/>
Also, it now comes back to you, it was Eva who asked you to "curse" someone in that silly thread. And it was Kelsey that you told her you wanted to curse.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232122312122
author_id: seuzz
title: What a Girl Like You Likes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You feel a momentary flash of anger, and you have a brief fantasy of confronting Eva and Jessica with what they've done to you. <i>Look, you know what's going on,</i> you'll say to them. <i>And I know you're the ones who did it. So let's just cut the shit and you tell me what the fuck is going on and why you're doing it.</i><br/>
<br/>
And they'll giggle and insist that no, really, they have no idea what you're talking about. But then they'll break down because they're both a couple of airheads who can't bluff for shit, and they'll explain everything and switch you and Kelsey back and things will return to normal.<br/>
<br/>
Well, as normal as they can be after you've been body-swapped with one of your classmates.<br/>
<br/>
But it's just a fantasy, right? It would never work out that way.<br/>
<br/>
So you push the fantasy away and go with your original, more cautious plan.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you two so full of giggles about?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" Eva's eyes go wide. "Oh, nothing!"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," Jessica echoes. "Just something we've got in store for Chelsea!"<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" Your eyebrows arch. Are they planning a bodyswap for Chelsea, too? "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, really." Jessica titters. "You'll want plausible deniability,."<br/>
<br/>
"Hm. Just as long as you tell me about it afterward. Better yet—" You feel your eyes narrow as a nasty smile curls your lip. "Will it be Tiktokable?"<br/>
<br/>
Eva looks panicked, and her eyes roll in their sockets. "Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Plausible deniability, Kelz," Jessica repeats. She pulls at her sister's arm. "See you in third!" The two run off, and burst into laughter before they're gone.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Okay, it's definitely them,</i> you think as you watch them go, and you can hardly keep your anger contained.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wish that was the worst of the weird stuff. But it's only getting started. Because even though you've swapped bodies with Kelsey Blankenship, you still share Mr. Walberg's first period class with her.<br/>
<br/>
She's in your seat, in your clothes, and in your body when you sweep into the classroom, and she's jogging her leg hard. Instinctively you shrink a little at the sight of "Will Prescott." It's bad enough seeing yourself where you ought to be sitting. Worse is seeing him through Kelsey's eyes. Not that she has a low opinion of you. She hasn't <i>got</i> an opinion of you, except that you're a scruffy nobody who has no business getting near her. So you feel yourself tense all over as Will sits up with alert but hooded expression as you turn toward your new desk.<br/>
<br/>
Some of "your friends" are already waiting in their seats. Amanda Ferguson casts a brief glance over at you, and you can't help flinching a little. Amanda is an iceberg. White of pallor and black of hair, and today she is accentuating both colors with a short black leather skirt, a white blouse, and very dark lipstick. All she lacks is a whip.<br/>
<br/>
No, strike that, she's got a whip. It's called her tongue.<br/>
<br/>
"Your boyfriend's looking at you," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"What boyfriend?" you snap back with a sense of panic. <i>Has Amanda picked up on—?</i><br/>
<br/>
She smirks. "The guy who got you all wet and bothered at Meghan's party last Friday."<br/>
<br/>
You glare at Amanda. When she adds nothing, you turn to unpack your bag for class. You're clicking your mechanical pencils, getting the lead at just the right length, when Laurent Delacroix, the most scrumptious of the wrestlers, pads in and settles heavily in the chair in front of you. His shoulder bulges against the fabric of his too-tight t-shirt, and a feeling like a hot, damp sponge forms in the tight fork between your legs. <i>God, I'll never get tired of looking at that,</i> you think as you study the back of Laurent's neck. The skin is tight, and the tendons twist and pop just beneath it as he bends his head to unpack his own bag.<br/>
<br/>
And you can't pull your eyes off Laurent, even as you wonder if Kelsey is watching you from your old desk, and wonder if she can tell what you're thinking and feeling.<br/>
<br/>
Then your cell phone chimes. You clench it with stiff fingers as you lift it to check the text. It's from Amanda. <i>Ur druling.</i><br/>
<br/>
You have to fight to keep the snarl off your lips. <i>Jealous much?</i> you text back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Swich places w me tday<br/>
<br/>
Lolno.</i><br/>
<br/>
Amanda drops her phone with a clatter. You smirk to yourself. <i>She must really be jealous!</i> you think. But it's one of Kelsey's thoughts, and you sink more miserably into yourself as, helplessly, visions of a shirtless Laurent swim before your mind's eye.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Alright, good match, girls!" Coach Gellman calls when you put Sophia away with one final serve. "Shake and break!"<br/>
<br/>
You give him a look, and roll your eyes. <i>As if I need to be reminded how to be a gracious winner!</i> you think as you advance to shake hands with Sophia Van den Berg across the tennis net. <i>I've had lots of practice being a winner!</i><br/>
<br/>
It's "ninth period," the afterschool tennis practice session, and the rain took a break long enough for you and the other tennis players to get in a few matches on the tennis courts behind the gym. You're the first girl to complete her match, and you give Sophia a sweet smile to go with the firm handshake. Sophia's own smile is a little tight, and she dodges your eye. Together you walk off the court, to dip into your athletic bags, which are sitting side by side, for bottled waters.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I'd kill to have your backhand," Sophia says. She shakes her hair back from her face before tipping the water to her mouth. "You've got the best," she says when she comes up for air again.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"Did your private coaches work you special on it?"<br/>
<br/>
You drown a waspish retort with your own gulp of water. Sophia's own backhand is a clumsy thing, and her backhanded insults—<i>Your backhand's only so good, Kelsey, because your parents bought it for you</i>—are almost as clumsy. "They worked me at everything," you reply after you've swallowed half the bottle, giving yourself enough time to come up with a retort. "I can give you their contact info, they could help you too."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Not that you could afford them, Sophia,</i> you add silently to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Sophia is a sweet and pleasant girl, actually, so it gives you no great pleasure to stomp on her with a stiletto heel this way. But she should stick to being sweet and pleasant, as she's no talent in a scrap. Nor has she any hope. The Van den Bergs owned Saratoga Falls (practically) a hundred or so years ago, when it was half the size it is today, and the Van den Berg bank and the Van den Berg mercantile and the Van den Berg mills and grain elevators were the center of the rural economy. But their fortunes are faded, like the dilapidated old mansion where the reduced family still lives. Anything she might try to throw at you can always be parried with a subtle reminder that her family was once much richer than yours, and now isn't.<br/>
<br/>
A tennis ball bangs against the chain link fence by your head, and you jump back with a loud squawk. The ball bounces back toward Terry Colson, who scoops it out of the air with his racket.<br/>
<br/>
"The hell was that for?" you snarl at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Just trying to get your attention," he calls back. "Party tonight, my place!"<br/>
<br/>
"So? Wait, today's Tuesday!"<br/>
<br/>
"Every night's a party at my place."<br/>
<br/>
You can believe it. Colson has drooping eyelids, sports a giant plastic earring in one ear, and has a serious weed problem. He is also a killer with a racket, as he demonstrates now, by tossing the ball high in the air, stretching his arm as far back as he can put it, then smashing the ball just over the net to drop in a corner where his opponent, Sean Wilcox, can't hope to return it. "Gonna have your kind of crowd over there," Terry drawls as he turns his attention back to you.<br/>
<br/>
"I doubt it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Adrian Semple. Tim Gerard. Andy Tackett. Coupla guys from Eastman." He catches the returned ball. "Karl Hennepin."<br/>
<br/>
The blood drains from your limbs, and is replaced by a chill, even after he's added Dean Stratton's and James Brewer's names to the list. There was definitely what sounded like a subtle emphasis on Karl's name.<br/>
<br/>
"Not interested! Besides, I've got homework and study circles!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be out," Sophia calls back to Terry. "What time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Seven. That's too bad, Kelsey, we'd love to have you out. I'll get Karl to call you, maybe, see if he can talk you into coming." Again, he lofts the ball, and smashes it over the net.<br/>
<br/>
Before you can yell a retort, Coach Gellman calls you over to switch courts for a match against Brooke Galloway. It's just as well. You're not sure you could have trusted yourself not to give something away. And then Kelsey would want to kill you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She was watching you from the corner of the gym all through practice, and when you checked your texts at the end of practice you expected to find a text asking you to hang back and talk with her. So you're surprised when you emerge from the gym afterward, to find the corner deserted and no new texts from your old phone.<br/>
<br/>
It might be just as well. You had a text from Jessica, asking you to hang out with her and Eva after school.<br/>
<br/>
But you feel like you need to talk to Kelsey -- if for no other reason, than to find out how she wants you to handle the guy she's sleeping with on the down low.</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132321223121222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Planning Committee
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You haven't talked to Kelsey, or even paid much attention to her, since this morning at the donut shop, and though you dread hearing what she thinks of your shitty, unpopular life—and you dread having to tell her about the day you spent pretending to be her—getting in touch with her seems like the best idea.<br/>
<br/>
You're caught first by Anthony Kirk, though, who comes sauntering out into the parking lot about the same time as you. "Hey Kelz!" he calls out when he sees you. "Long as I got you here!" He gestures you over.<br/>
<br/>
Anthony Kirk is one of the few peers who can "gesture" Kelsey to come to them. Like Kelsey, he's an AP student, from a high-income family, and their families have known each other through the country club since they were little. And unlike some of the other guys in Kelsey's group—Brent Pruitt or Martin Gardinhire or even Geoff Mansfield—Anthony combines preppy looks, good grades, and expensive tastes with a quiet authority that even Kelsey can't resist.<br/>
<br/>
It's country club business he wants to talk about now. There's an unofficial "junior" country club inside the regular country club—one for the kids of the regular members—and Anthony is its unofficial president. He's organizing a charity drive, and he not only wants your help with it, he wants your input on setting it up. You tamp down Kelsey's own impatience and your own boredom as he unreels plans and contingencies, and you're standing with him nearly forty minutes in the parking lot before you finally part. Only after you're driving away do you realize that despite all the talk, nothing seems to have gotten decided, and you're not even sure what (if anything) you are supposed to be contributing to Anthony's project.<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, the upshot is that it's too close to the Prescotts' supper time for you to be texting or calling Kelsey. You stay in town to eat a large apple-chicken salad at Panera (texting Kelsey's parents to tell you what you're doing) and finish homework. Along about seven, you start to text your old phone to find out if its current owner is free to come into town to meet with you. You change your mind at the last minute though, and instead gather up your stuff and drive out to your old place.<br/>
<br/>
It's a nice house, you have to admit as you park in front of it. It's certainly a lot bigger and nicer than someone like Kelsey would expect of a scruffy scarecrow like Will Prescott, who (now that you think of him with Kelsey's mind) seems more like the type to live in a tract house with an old, worn-out, molded-plastic play set in the front yard. <i>Yes, a molded-plastic play set, and a crusty/rusty dirt bike dropped in the weedy front yard, and basketball hoop hanging off the front of the garage,</i> you find yourself thinking. <i>Why do parents who live in a place this nice let their kid dress like a seventh-grader?<br/>
<br/>
Shut up, Kelsey,</i> you chide that annoying inner voice.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart is beating hard as you ring the doorbell, and the words fail in your throat when the door is opened by your little brother. For half a second, you are sure he's going to recognize you, and fall to the ground, howling with laughter, at seeing you dressed up like a girl.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" you exclaim when you recover your nerve. A smile that feels fake even to you twists onto your face. "Is Will home? I'm a friend from school."<br/>
<br/>
Robert gives you a look up and down—the kind of appraising look that Kelsey remembers getting in middle school—and backs up a step. "Hey, Will!" he shouts back into the house without taking his eyes off you. "Will!" <i>Guess they really don't care about manners around here,</i> you helplessly think.<br/>
<br/>
"Go upstairs and get your brother!" That would be your real dad, and a moment later he wanders into the foyer with a frown. His eyebrows twitch when he sees you, and you have another vertigo-like moment of panic at being discovered. "Hello, you want to come in?" he gruffly asks you.<br/>
<br/>
Before you can reply, feet come thundering down the stairs and Will Prescott tumbles into view. He has to catch himself against a wall when he sees you, for his knees visibly buckle. "Hey Will!" you chirp at him. "I was in the neighborhood, wanted to stop by and talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
Will gapes back at you. So does Robert. At least your dad has the presence of mind to slap your brother in the back and pull him out of the foyer. You don't step inside to take his place, but only continue beaming at Will from the porch. "I thought maybe we could go for a walk. To talk. At the old school. Or, I dunno, we could go out in your back yard?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, walking is fine," he stammers. "Er. I'll be back in a few minutes!" he yells back into the house.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't shout, Will!" the retort comes echoing back.<br/>
<br/>
You step back onto the porch as Will comes out to join you. "I didn't text or call because I was out here anyway," you tell him as he pulls the door shut. "I thought you'd rather meet up somewhere here instead of in town, where someone might see us together." You can't help it that it comes out prim and snarky.<br/>
<br/>
Will gives you a quick, angry look. But he only says, "That's okay. Probably smart."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not on account of, you know, not wanting to be seen with you," you tell him. "Only— Okay, like we were saying, whoever did this to us is probably watching us, and if we want to play it cool for them, like nothing's going on, we probably don't want them catching us, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I get it," Will says, but his expression and tone of voice continue to be pinched. "Maybe we <i>should</i> go in the back yard, then."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug, and let him lead you around to the side gate. The back yard is muddy from the rain, and with Kelsey's eye you can't help noticing and sniffing at the patches of bald, bare mud where the grass has shrunk back from the tree that spreads its canopy over the side yard.<br/>
<br/>
You wind up standing near the tool shed. "So how was your day?" you ask your replacement.<br/>
<br/>
"It was okay. Your classes aren't hard." His dark eyes dart about beneath his stiff bangs. "It was ... interesting ... with your friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Keith and Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"And Carson and them. Had lunch with them out front. It was kind of—" But he trails off with a shrug instead of finishing. "And how was your day?" His voice is strained.<br/>
<br/>
"It was good. Can't complain. Your classes are hard, but, you know, I got your brain to help me handle them." <br/>
<br/>
An awkward silence falls between you.<br/>
<br/>
"Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" you eagerly ask.<br/>
<br/>
Will draws a deep breath and shifts from foot to foot.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you want me to do about Eva and Jessica?"<br/>
<br/>
The question startles you. "What about them?"<br/>
<br/>
Will has been avoiding your eye all this time. But now he does look at you directly, and there's a flush of anger behind his gaze.<br/>
<br/>
"I remember everything you did, Will. That 'curse'?"<br/>
<br/>
It knocks you back a step, though it shouldn't have. If Kelsey can "remember" that Keith summoned you out to the Ag Annex, of course she can "remember" you telling Eva to curse her.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, obviously it wasn't an actual curse," you protest.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know that! And you cursed me anyway!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you were cursing at me, Kelsey! At Meghan's party!"<br/>
<br/>
"After you—!"<br/>
<br/>
"That was an accident, and you know it! I got shoved into you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," Will grumbles. "But you still cursed me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, bite me!"<br/>
<br/>
Will bristles all over, and for a moment you think he's going slug you. But you only glare back, and he settles down again. "Well, what are we going to do about Eva and Jessica?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, we play things like nothing's changed."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Then what do you want me to do about the fact that Eva and Jessica want to take me out this weekend?" When you don't answer right away, he adds, "Jesus, don't you <i>see</i> it's gotta be them? Since when were they ever interested in you, Will? And even if you didn't mean for that 'curse' to be real, you picked <i>me</i> to curse, and you told Eva it was me you wanted to curse. And look what happened!"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't do anything about them! Remember? We want them to be <i>bored</i>, whoever's watching."<br/>
<br/>
"So do you want me to tell 'em to go fuck themselves? Because that's how come they're asking me to come out with them. So they can get a look at me!"<br/>
<br/>
You fold your arms and look around the back yard. It's getting dark, and suddenly you don't want to be here. You came out to see Kelsey only because you felt like you should, and now it hits you how horribly complicated things are, even with your plan to do "nothing" about it all.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what do your instincts say to do?" you ask. "You've got <i>my</i> instincts, right? I think I've got yours."<br/>
<br/>
Will's brow darkens.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we know all about each other, don't we?" he says. "So what do <i>your</i> instincts say to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"About Eva and Jessica?"<br/>
<br/>
"And about Karl."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart almost fails to beat. Does Kelsey seriously want to hear your gut instincts about how to handle her secret fuck-buddy?</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323212231212223
author_id: seuzz
title: Attempted Temptations
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You sigh. Is Kelsey really trying to put these decisions onto you?<br/>
<br/>
Well, if she is, your instinct is to put Karl Hennepin on the back burner.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, like I said, I think we should go on like nothing's changed," you tell her, "but that's only for, you know, public consumption. Your thing with Karl, no one knows about that. So if he and I don't, uh ... "<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh?" Will's eyes narrow.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck, this is tricky.</i> "Well, you're not even sure that you're that serious about him. Are you?"<br/>
<br/>
You can hardly believe that you're putting the question to her so directly and boldly. But then you realize that it's what Kelsey would do, if someone was going to ask <i>her</i> for advice.<br/>
<br/>
"So you want to break up with him," Will says in a tight voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to fuck up anything for you, Kelsey. But I also don't want to, well—" <br/>
<br/>
<i>I don't want to fuck your boyfriend,</i> is what you'd say if you were being completely honest. Luckily, you come up with something better than that. "I don't want things to develop between you without <i>you</i> being there," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"That's a good excuse," Will snorts. But he doesn't argue.<br/>
<br/>
"And what do <i>you</i> feel about Eva and Jessica?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"They're not interested in you, Will. Except to fuck with you. And me." He hesitates. "But I wanna keep close to them. Try to figure out what they're up to."<br/>
<br/>
"Then go for it. And don't worry, I won't cut it off with Karl or anything. I'll just, you know, string him along." <i>But no more afternoons at the Donna Motor Court,</i> you silently add. "Anything else we should talk about, while I'm here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do I have your permission to punch out your brother?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. He is annoying, isn't he?"<br/>
<br/>
"I caught him breaking into your bedroom this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
<i>He was probably looking for my porn stash,</i> you almost say, but catch yourself in time. You don't want to talk to Kelsey about her love life, and you sure as fuck don't want to talk to her about yours.<br/>
<br/>
Especially as you haven't got one, except the one you entertain yourself with when you're alone, in the dark. You doubt she wants to talk about it either.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Jesus," you exclaim as you sweep into Ms. Simeon's classroom the next day. The math teacher—one of Kelsey's favorites—has fourth period free, and she lets Kelsey's "study group" meet in the back of her room that period. "Sometimes I think Mr. Walberg just lays awake at night thinking of new ways to piss me off!" You slide gracefully into a seat and sigh heavily as you drop your bag into the desktop.<br/>
<br/>
So far it's only Lin Pol and Christine Coolidge in the room with you. Lin is another cheerleader, and she's a good friend of Eva and Jessica, and you briefly wonder if she's mixed up in the thing with them. Christine is on the swim team, and has the trim figure one would expect from a swimmer. It's too bad she's got a honking great schnozzola in the middle of her face. It looks almost like a fake, putty nose that a careless makeup artist slapped over her real nose.<br/>
<br/>
They both glance up from their phones at your entrance, but neither one says anything, and you fill the silence with another exasperated sigh. "So it's history class, okay," you say, for Kelsey has the old walrus for AP World History as well, "and we're doing ancient Greece and Athens, and when I raise my hand to ask—"<br/>
<br/>
"Anyone here taking Physics?" You turn around and make a face at Noah Baker, who has sauntered in to interrupt you. His books clatter as he drops them onto a desk. "With Mrs. Gambetta?" he adds as he squeezes with a grunt into a seat.<br/>
<br/>
"Try asking your friends when they get here," you suggest when no one else answers. Helplessly, you find yourself thinking that Noah is one of the reasons this "study group" is rapidly going to hell. It was okay when Michael Wilson joined, on account of his being on the swim team with Christine, because Michael is sweet and quiet and good looking. But then he brought Ryan Ness with him, and Ryan—though a hunk—is a stuck-up punk, and <i>he</i> brought along Noah, who is on the baseball team, and whose girlfriend—<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I got this bastard of a problem," Noah says, "and I only got until seventh period to—"<br/>
<br/>
"I was talking," you inform him. "So Mr. Walberg was going on about—"<br/>
<br/>
"Abel Baker Charley!" another voice interrupts you. This one is even deeper than Noah's, and it rumbles out of the broad chest of Ryan Ness, who now comes swaggering in. He claps his teammate on the shoulders and kneads his neck as he slides into the desk next to Noah. "Lemme look at your math."<br/>
<br/>
"You're taking AP Physics, aren'tcha, man?" Noah asks as he unzips his pack.<br/>
<br/>
"Just got out." Ryan nods past Noah, at you. "Why don'tcha get Amanda to come sit in here with us? She's in Krohling's class, she can help Baker straighten out his shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, she has a class this period?" You roll your eyes. "And she's got a low tolerance for shit."<br/>
<br/>
Noah guffaws, but Ryan grins. "What's she got this period?"<br/>
<br/>
"You could try asking her yourself, but I think it's German. AP. AP German IV." You feel your eyebrows cinching skyward.<br/>
<br/>
Ryan snorts like a buffalo and holds your eye.<br/>
<br/>
"That's hot," he says. "She was in a black leather skirt and black leather boots yesterday. And you're saying she takes German? Fuck me, but that makes me hurt in a good way all over just thinking about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God!" you cry out, and your cheeks flame as Noah laughs out loud. "You disgusting—!"<br/>
<br/>
"I've got a leather skirt," Lin tells Ryan. "It's red, not black, though." She tucks a long strand of jet-black hair behind an ear, and ostentatiously runs her tongue over her bottom lip. "I'll let you try it on sometime, if you think you can handle it."<br/>
<br/>
The air freezes, so that the only sound comes from Noah: a kind of hoarse, asthmatic gargle. Ms. Simeon returns to the room during that interval, so that everyone has to settle down. You have to satisfy yourself by staring hot daggers at Ryan every time you glance over at him during the next hour.<br/>
<br/>
"Tss, you just gotta know how to handle guys like that, Kelsey," Lin tells you afterward when the period is over and it's just you and her, and you are free to spit fire over Ryan and his disgusting fantasies about your friends. "Guys who talk like that are too scared to do actually do anything. So you shut 'em down by calling their bluff."<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose you've shut down lots of guys that way," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
Her expression curdles slightly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," she says, and quickly begins shoving books into her bag. "But the guys I couldn't shut down lived up to their brags."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, really? And was it for them you bought that red leather skirt?"<br/>
<br/>
Lin swings her bag onto her shoulder, and turns to hold your eye.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," she says, then wheels and stalks away.<br/>
<br/>
<i>What a nasty confession,</i> you think afterward. <i>Except she probably didn't mean it, except as a "Fuck you" to me.</i><br/>
<br/>
Still, it gives you food for thought. And for fantasies. Because down underneath Kelsey's prim hauteur, you are also turned on by the idea of trim girls in leather boots and leather skirts.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've got nothing better to do than to follow Kelsey's instincts, so when Amanda texts you after school, you agree to meet up with her at the Milagro Beanfield Warehouse. It's their favorite hangout because it's more expensive than most of the other coffeeshops in town while still being bohemian. And thanks to all that talk during your study hall, you've got leather skirts on your mind when you connect with her.<br/>
<br/>
"You need to be more careful about what you wear to school, Amanda," you tell her after you've got your coffees. You tell her what Ryan said about her, pretending to be sympathetic and disapproving while secretly relishing the embarrassment you hope it causes her. Amanda, like Kelsey, likes to dress for attention, and this is a way of getting in some backhanded digs at her.<br/>
<br/>
But Amanda only shrugs. "No point in putting something like that on if it doesn't stir up the guys," she says.<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw slackens. "You mean you don't mind?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you?" She's still wearing her sunglasses, but you see her eyes shift behind them to give you a direct look.<br/>
<br/>
"Not <i>that</i> kind of attention! And you know what Lin said afterward?" You relate some of the things Lin told you, hoping to shake Amanda's confidence by comparing her to Lin, who is one of the biggest sluts at the school. "It's like she's <i>advertising</i> herself," you gloat. "You must be <i>this big of a prick</i> to give me a ride." You can't help snickering to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
But Amanda continues cool and thoughtful. "I've seen some the guys she's probably talking about," she says. "If you have to advertise to get their attention, it's worth it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!"<br/>
<br/>
Again, her gaze shifts to you, and a tiny smirk appears on her lips.<br/>
<br/>
"I could introduce you to some of them, Kelsey," she says. "They go to Eastman, so it's not like you'd be risking anything."<br/>
<br/>
Despite yourself, her offer excites you. It bothers you until you realize it's Kelsey's own instincts rising to the proffered bait. It's one reason she likes Karl Hennepin—he's a kind of forbidden fruit.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you're not going to do anything with Karl, and you're not going to do anything with any guys that Amanda could introduce you to. But if you get out of this, Kelsey might appreciate it if you had at least gotten some introductions for her to follow up on.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232122312122232
author_id: seuzz
title: Dress for Success
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"No thanks," you tell Amanda with a shudder. "I don't need to know what kind of assholes Lin's turning tricks for in bed."<br/>
<br/>
Amanda's lips twitch into a private kind of smile. "No, I guess you don't," she says as she lifts the coffee mug to her mouth.<br/>
<br/>
You can't help shooting her a sharp look. It's just one of dozens of remarks that Kelsey has heard that make it sound like she knows all about her and Karl.<br/>
<br/>
Which is another reason to cool things off between you and Hennepin.<br/>
<br/>
So when Karl texts you later that evening, and after some small talk suggests some erotic messaging, you shut him down by saying you're not in the mood and still have homework to finish.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But as if the universe wasn't crazy enough, it throws you another curve the next morning as you're striding in to the school. You hear your name called—a not uncommon occurrence for Kelsey Blankenship—and wheel to find Cindy Vredenburg jogging over to join you. You give her your sweetest, most poisonous smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, what's up?" you greet her. "How's Lucy?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's fine."<br/>
<br/>
"How's Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy's eyelid twitches. "She's fine too, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Lucy have any advice for how to deal with her?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy looks momentarily startled, and you stifle a giggle.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey, Cindy, and Chelsea Cooper were the three girls vying all summer for the captaincy of the cheerleader squad. Of the three, Cindy probably wanted it the worst, on account of the fact that her sister, Lucy, had been captain of the squad two years ago. When Chelsea outmaneuvered her rivals at the start of the semester, Kelsey quit in a huff but Cindy stayed on. From everything you've heard—through your own ears and now through Kelsey's—it has been a miserable time for Cindy. <br/>
<br/>
And so with three innocent and seemingly concerned remarks about Chelsea and Lucy, you feel like you've successfully twisted a knife deep into Cindy's guts. Because you—Kelsey—have never forgiven Cindy for fucking up your own plan to become captain of the squad while fumbling her own, thus handing it to Chelsea instead.<br/>
<br/>
But now Cindy just makes a face. "Why don't you ask me how Seth is?"<br/>
<br/>
"Seth?" You pretend puzzlement with a frown. "Is something wrong with Seth? Is he sick?"<br/>
<br/>
"How would you like to take him off my hands?"<br/>
<br/>
Now it's your turn to start. <i>What is Cindy babbling about?</i> <br/>
<br/>
"You do like Seth, don't you, Kelsey?" Cindy asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I really want to talk to you about what I think of your boyfriend," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Please tell me you like him, that you want to jump his bones. Because I want to get rid of him, and you'd be doing me a huge favor if you took him off my hands."<br/>
<br/>
You blink hard. You had heard rumblings in recent days that there was trouble between Cindy and Seth—humdinger fights and crying jags, with some of the tears (it was whispered) shed by Seth himself—but your mind has of course been on other things. Besides, things have always been tempestuous between Cindy and Seth. He's a swaggering bully who thinks he's God's gift to Westside High, and Cindy is a high-strung girl whose senior year has so far been a keen disappointment. But this approach by Cindy astonishes you, and for lots of reasons.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about, Cindy?" you exclaim. "You and Seth, you're like <i>perfect</i> for each other! I mean— Oh my God!" you gasp. "He hasn't been, like, abusing you or anything, has he?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy rolls her eyes. "He's an asshole, Kelsey. You know that."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why don't you just—?" You touch her arm. "If you need to talk, Cindy, we'll go talk. But—"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you go talk to Seth?"<br/>
<br/>
"What for? Is there something you want me to specially find out, or anything?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy gives you a sidelong look. "You do like him, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
You clap your mouth closed into a grim line.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you're trying to imply, Cindy, but I never, <i>ever</i>—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, fine," she sighs. "I guess I'll just have to go find someone else who'll take him. Only it does seem like you and him are made for each other."<br/>
<br/>
You feel the steam starting to build between your ears. "And what's that supposed to mean? You said he's an—"<br/>
<br/>
"Figure it out yourself, Kelsey," she jeers, and flits away, leaving to gasp angrily at her retreating back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So your brain is in a whirl when you stomp into first period. Seth and his friend Darren were the guys who grabbed you just before the "body swap," so you know they're mixed up in it. From what Cindy says, it sounds like he's causing trouble for her too, and you find yourself wondering what kind. And was that really Cindy? Or has Seth switched her with someone else?<br/>
<br/>
You're so distracted that when Amanda says something to you, you have to ask her to repeat it.<br/>
<br/>
"I said, Check out your boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" you demand, though the words stick in your throat. <i>Did Karl follow me in here?</i><br/>
<br/>
You turn around to follow her gaze, but you see nothing unusual. You're just turning around to ask what the hell and why the hell, when you freeze, then whirl to do a double take. Your jaw falls open when you see what's sitting in Will Prescott's desk.<br/>
<br/>
It's Will Prescott. But it isn't. Not the Will Prescott you saw yesterday, or expected to see today.<br/>
<br/>
That Will Prescott dressed in baggy, ill-fitting t-shirts and cargo shorts, with a shapeless white ball cap squashed onto his head. That Will Prescott had hair like a haystack, and he sprawled inside his desk like a spider monkey.<br/>
<br/>
But this Will Prescott—<br/>
<br/>
You have to blink to be sure that it really is him. Only the eyes and the general contours of the face are the same.<br/>
<br/>
He's dressed like a cowboy, sort of, in faded blue jeans and a soft, red denim shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to the elbows. Forest-green suspenders. He relaxes inside his desk with his legs crossed, showing off dark boots instead of his usual ratty sneakers. And atop his head—<br/>
<br/>
And did he get a haircut? His stiff bangs are still showing, but it looks like the curly crap behind his ears and at the top of his neck has been sheared off.<br/>
<br/>
—is a battered leather hat like Indiana Jones might wear.<br/>
<br/>
And he's staring back at you with a raised chin, as though daring you to disapprove.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Jesus!</i><br/>
<br/>
You whirl back around and catch your breath. The fuck is going on over there? Is that Kelsey's idea of giving her new body a clean up? What the hell is she thinking? No one in a million years is going to take "you" seriously looking like that! <i>For fuck's sake!</i><br/>
<br/>
"He's cute, isn't he?" Amanda snickers.<br/>
<br/>
You snarl at her. "You're not serious!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but it looks like he's serious about you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What?"</i><br/>
<br/>
She smirks. "I love the hat. Don't you love the hat?"<br/>
<br/>
If you could, you'd flay Amanda alive with the glare you give her—Karl also sports a hat—but she only bubbles over with a laugh as cold as dry ice. You glance back over your shoulder to see how Kelsey's other friends are taking it, but no one else has been paying attention. That, or they looked your double over and are now bored.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes, that's the best thing that could happen,</i> you decide. As long as no one pays any attention to him, everything will be fine. No one pays attention to him anyway, and Caleb and Keith and Carson and James will be sure to straighten Kelsey and her shit out.<br/>
<br/>
Then a wave of nausea hits you. <i>Oh God, what are the Molester, and Kirkham, and all the other low-level bullies going to say and do when they see the new Will Prescott?</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's fourth period, and you're in Ms. Simeon's classroom with the study circle, before you have a chance to text Will. You keep your phone up close to your chest as you tap in texts that he won't be able to check until lunch, but you want to get written now. The texts are surprisingly hard to write. It's hard to come up with something more than, <i>What the hell, K? WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?</i><br/>
<br/>
You can't help glaring at Lisa Yarborough as she settles into the seat next to you, for she's in the study circle too. <i>What the hell is she thinking about Will now?</i> you wonder. <i>Is she going to say anything to you about him? She better not. She's a flake, and it would be just like her—</i><br/>
<br/>
Your heart staggers a little under the hammer blow of contempt that Kelsey feels for your ex-girlfriend. It's one of the reasons you've done your best to ignore Lisa, who has been constantly around you since this body swap. Kelsey has a very low opinion of Lisa, which didn't keep Kelsey from trying to make Lisa feel like shit for hanging out with you over the summer. Not that Kelsey was trying to break you and Lisa up. She didn't even think that Lisa was going out with you. It was only that Kelsey thought it was all just too embarrassing. You were completely wrong for each other, that was clear to Kelsey. Lisa might be an airhead, but she has a lot more style than Will Prescott, who was just a dopey, sloppy slacker. The only satisfaction you now have is to find that Kelsey is almost as contemptuous of Geoff Mansfield for making a fool of himself around Lisa, who is way too dumb and unsophisticated for him.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that Amanda you're texting?" Lisa asks you now.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you snap, and put the phone away after sending the last text. "It's none of your business."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So what are you to think when Will texts you back at lunch: <i>I was thinkgn of asking Lisa out agin.</i></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132321223121222322
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Opinions, Truly Expressed
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>I want to talk to you,</i> you text Will, <i>at your place after school.<br/>
<br/>
Which place?</i> he texts back a minute later. <i>Acheson or Bship?</i><br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. As though it would make sense to have him drive up to your house!<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to realize how reasonable his question was, and how unreasonable your immediate response was. <i>Acheson,</i> you text back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Going with study group after school,</i> he replies, <i>can meet u n parking lot after tennis.</i><br/>
<br/>
You want to tell him that won't fly because you don't want to be seen together, but it doesn't feel like arguments are going to work. You text back a snippy <i>Fine</i> and close up your phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you mad at now?" Anthony Kirk asks. He's sitting across the cafeteria table from you.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not mad at anyone, Anthony," you retort. "I'm never mad at anyone. Just disappointed."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You make sure to keep Will waiting after tennis practice by taking a long shower and cleaning up very carefully in the changing room afterward, both so Kelsey will know you're not going to let her jerk you around, and so that the place will be sure to clear out before you go out see him. Terry Colson was hanging around yesterday, like he was waiting to meet someone, but you couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching you, too.<br/>
<br/>
There's still lots of cars in the lot by the time you emerge, but Kelsey has moved your truck over next to her BMW so at least it will look like a chance encounter when you meet. He's on his cell phone, slouching against the side of the truck, as you approach. And placed there, against a white truck, he looks even more like a cowboy. He's even pushed his hat up and out of his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay what the <i>fuck</i> is this?" you demand as you round the back of the BMW. You indicate his clothes.<br/>
<br/>
He returns you a pinched smile. "Don't you like it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not for me to have an opinion. I just want to know what the fuck you think you're doing!"<br/>
<br/>
"It was Eva and Jessica's idea. Oh, and Cindy's. I think she's in on it too."<br/>
<br/>
You put your hand on your hip. "Would you try to make a little sense, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Would you try not to be so much of a bitch, Kelsey?"<br/>
<br/>
It's like a slap in the face, and you start. "What did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
"You heard me. You surprised I said it?"<br/>
<br/>
You tense up all over. You have to force your jaw open in order to reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess I am surprised. A little. I'm sorry you think I was being a bitch."<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm sorry you feel like you have to act this way with me, Will. You know, there's such a thing as being 'too much in character'." His eyes narrow and his lip curls.<br/>
<br/>
You bridle. "You think I'm in character? Good. I'm trying to be."<br/>
<br/>
"Is it fun?"<br/>
<br/>
You flare. "I'm not trying to have fun, W—! Kelsey! I'm trying to keep anyone from noticing that I'm <i>not! You!</i>" You have to catch your breath.<br/>
<br/>
Will rolls his eyes. "Okay, whatever. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, what's the fucking point?</i> you fume. If Kelsey doesn't understand what you want to talk to her about, then she doesn't know herself, does she?<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to ask you about these new clothes, and that hat, and—"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, it was Eva and Jessica and Cindy. They took me shopping yesterday. They bought me these things."<br/>
<br/>
"They <i>bought</i> them for you?" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. And more of the same kind of stuff." He stands up straight and shakes himself out. "I think they kind of suit me. Well, suit you. Don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink at him, then pull a face. If you didn't know who this loser was, you'd have to agree that they do suit him. He's scruffy and lanky and coltish, which leaves him looking like a hairy man-child when dressed in t-shirt and shorts. But in these faded colors, in broken-in Levis and denim, and with the hat— <br/>
<br/>
You let out a sigh. No one would mistake Will Prescott for a genuine cowboy. But the clothes do hang nicely on his frame, and they don't look too self-consciously stylish. The battered leather hat, with his cowboy-ishly wide brim, is the only out-of-the-ordinary touch, and it's actually the piece that pulls the rest of the look together, so that it looks deliberate and not accidental.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," you admit, "they do look pretty good on you. But no one's going to go for it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you so freaking negative?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I know myself, and I know that no one—!"<br/>
<br/>
You're surprised by a sudden burning behind your nose and eyes, and you have to catch yourself before you can burst into tears.<br/>
<br/>
Tears! You're about to start crying! <i>What the fuck is wrong with me?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
"And because," you continue after getting a quick grip on yourself, "if it was <i>you,</i> Kelsey, standing where I am, and I was standing where you are, dressed like that, this is what you'd be saying to me!" You sniff back some hot, running snot. "I'm not <i>trying</i> to be in character as you, Kelsey, but I can't help knowing what you'd think! And it <i>is</i> what you'd think!" <br/>
<br/>
A dam breaks inside your nose, and the snot runs out. Your vision wobbles. But even through the blur of tears you can see Will's face fall.<br/>
<br/>
Then he turns on his heel and stalks around to the driver's side of the truck. The engine starts with a roar and leaps away. You glare as it tears off down Borman back toward town.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, you've really torn it now. You've told Kelsey that you know that she despises you, and you've told her in a way that's really pissed her off. She'll hate you now, which means she's probably going to fuck up your life out of spite and revenge, even if it's her life now. You drive around town, feeling sorry for yourself, and after you've beaten back the worst of the emotional storm, you park long enough to put your face back together before going home.<br/>
<br/>
But by the time you've locked yourself in your bedroom—you might as well think of it as "your" bedroom now, since you're Kelsey Blankenship now and it looks like you're going to be Kelsey for a good long time—you've recovered enough to see that not only is an apology from you to her in order, but that there's a good chance it will actually work. Kelsey is not used to apologizing, but she has done it in the past, so it wouldn't be out of character. And as you'd be apologizing to the real girl herself, she might actually like it.<br/>
<br/>
A text is not the way to do it, though, so you call her direct.<br/>
<br/>
Her voice is very neutral when she answers, but she's not hostile. "Hey," she says, in your original voice of course.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey. Uh, look, Will. Look, I just wanted to call and, um, tell you I'm sorry for the way I, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I get it. Listen, can I call you back in a bit?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Call me back?</i> You are dumfounded. "Well, can't I talk long enough to tell you I'm sorry?" you ask. You wince at the exasperation you hear in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I told you, I get it, I understand, it's alright. But I'm not alone now. I'm, uh, with Eva and Jessica. And Cindy. And some other people." His voice is strained.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The fuck?</i> "Did they take you shopping again?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, we— I'll be right back!" he hollers. "It's my brother, he's got a question about—! Lemme just get rid of him and—!"<br/>
<br/>
He's interrupted by the sound of laughter, and his voice disappears. You press the phone closer to your ear and frown. <br/>
<br/>
But it's a girl's voice that comes back on. "Hey, Will's brother," she drawls. "Are you as cute as your—?"<br/>
<br/>
That voice vanishes and there's a babble of more voices, including Will saying, "I'll be right back. Hang on a minute!" You feel yourself pale at the sound of a lot of thumping.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," Will says when he comes back on. "I can't talk long. Look, what do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, at first I wanted to apologize, but now I want to know what's going on. Where are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I'm with Eva and Jessica and Cindy. They took me over to— Well, it doesn't matter. But yeah, apology accepted. I'm sorry too. Anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
"So why did you go off with Eva and them? I thought you were all suspicious of them. You think they've got an ulterior motive in—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's why I went with them! It's really pretty fucking obvious now that—" The next few words are blotted out by the sound of running water. "I mean, buying me this new shit, right?" Kelsey continues, lifting her voice just loud enough to be heard over the streaming water. "That's not typical for anyone, Will. I hope you don't think I'm trying to tear you down or anything when I say that."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what are they doing with you now? Hey, you there?" you ask when there's no immediate answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Will, do you trust me?" Kelsey asks.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart nearly seizes up. "Why?" you reply. "What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
She sighs. "I think I'm about to get you laid."</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323212231212223222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Way Forward
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You almost drop the phone. "What did you just say?" you shriek.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I can't stick around to explain," Will replies. "I'm hiding in the bathroom, and it's gonna start looking weird in a minute. But I'm over at—" His words are muffled by a flurry of knocks. "Just a minute!" he hollers. "I gotta go," he says when he's back on the line. "Do you want me to do this or not?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Get ... laid?</i> Your throat won't let your form any words, let alone those.<br/>
<br/>
When you don't answer, Will says, "Fine, I'll just keep it friendly. We'll talk about it all later." The line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
The phone slips from your fingers.<br/>
<br/>
It is incredible. Somewhere in town, a guy who looks like you and answers to your name is about to get laid. Even more incredibly—and not just because there was a <i>freaking body swap involved</i>—it was Kelsey Blankenship, in your body, who was going to get laid.<br/>
<br/>
You clap your hands over your eyes to shut out the image.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Kelsey Blankenship was going to put your penis inside another girl.</i><br/>
<br/>
You pass a very restless evening and night, waiting and hoping and dreading to hear back from her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Along about midnight—you're still awake, even though you need to get up early—you send Will a text, begging him to meet you at Salvation Donuts in the morning. He does, getting there a few minutes after you've arrived, and he comes loping into the shop on long, stiff legs. "Hey," he says as he bends himself into the chair opposite you. He can't quite look you in the face.<br/>
<br/>
He's looking pretty good again, in a plaid flannel shirt this time, but still with suspenders and that hat. As he fiddles with a sugar packet, you can't help thinking that if he bulked up a little, put some meat on his forearms, at least, he could really fill out the outfit.<br/>
<br/>
Then you dismiss the troubling thought with a shake of your head.<br/>
<br/>
"So," you say, and you try to keep your voice as neutral as possible. "Can you tell me what was going on yesterday? I didn't catch where you were, or what—"<br/>
<br/>
"I was over at Rachel Bell's house," he says. "You know Rachel. I mean, <i>you</i> don't, but I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know all about her." <i>Well, now you do.</i> Rachel was that girl with Hennepin and Tackett and Mia DeWitt at the cinema last weekend, the tall girl with the big nose. She's smart, way smarter than Kelsey or any of her friends, with an almost creepy talent for stuff in the STEM area.<br/>
<br/>
But Kelsey is still talking, and you refocus your attention on her.<br/>
<br/>
"Eva and Jessica asked me out again, so I went along with them, and we wound up at Rachel's. There were a bunch of people out there." He rattles off a half dozen names, all of which you recognize, but aren't much interested in. "So we were hanging out, listening to music. Started dancing." He hunches in his seat. "They were into me."<br/>
<br/>
<i>And that didn't freak you out?</i> you want to ask. But you're also getting excited, even aroused, as she describes the scene. <i>That could have been me out there,</i> you think. <i>Actually, it </i>was<i> me, and those girls were into me. They were </i>into me,<i> Kelsey says!</i> It sets your heart beating hard.<br/>
<br/>
And the best part of it is, you weren't there to throw up out of nervousness and anxiety.<br/>
<br/>
"So," you ask, still striving to keep your tone neutral and curious, "when I called, you said something about, um—" Will shoots you a sharp, worried glance. "Were you serious? I mean, sometimes I let my imagination run away with me."<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I dunno if it <i>could've</i> happened," he says, "'cos I didn't try, but Rachel—"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, it was <i>Rachel</i> who—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, the others had their boyfriends there. The girls who have boyfriends. The others were into me, but Rachel was <i>really—</i>" He trails off and hunches deeper, bringing his chin almost level with the tabletop. Your jaw falls open when you realize that Kelsey is nursing an erection.<br/>
<br/>
While you were waiting for him to show up, you bought another one of those awful coffees they have here, and before you can stop yourself you swallow half of it down. "But nothing happened?" you ask after you recover from the taste. "What <i>did</i> happen?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Just dancing. After you told me you didn't want me to—"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't <i>tell</i> you not to do anything."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't want me to, though, right?"<br/>
<br/>
It's not a question you feel like you can answer. "You wouldn't have wanted to do it anyway, would you? Like, not for real. Would you?"<br/>
<br/>
Will sucks in a deep breath, rolls his eyes, and straightens up. He hangs bonelessly in his chair for a long minute, looking at a spot in the ceiling, before replying.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what it's like for you," he says slowly. "And to be perfectly honest, I don't like trying to imagine it. But you know I've never had a—" He looks you in the face long enough to mouth the word <i>penis</i> at you. "And it's a little scary and confusing. I mean, I guess you know what it's like, and I can remember what it's like for you. But there's a big difference between remembering it and having it happen in real time." He takes a deep breath, and slowly releases it. "A <i>huge</i> difference."<br/>
<br/>
You settle back in your own chair and let the moment steep. Yes, it's got to be an odd feeling for Kelsey, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said it didn't please you at least a little bit to see her so addled. "I'm sorry I interrupted you and got in the way."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't answer for a bit, and when he folds his arms it worries you that you've pissed him off. But when he finally speaks, he only sounds worried.<br/>
<br/>
"I know we've talked about how we want to keep things the same," he says. He touches the brim of his hat. "But things are already changing. And are things ever going to go back to normal for us? Or, uh, is this going to be the way it is for us, from now on?"<br/>
<br/>
Now, for almost the first time this morning, he does look you directly in the face, and holds your eye. You feel yourself tensing up, and fold your own arms and cross your legs. "So what are you saying?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He tries to shrug, but his voice is very tight when he speaks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm saying that maybe we should ... do what we want to do? Even if it's a change for us, a change for the person we, uh, now are?" He shifts in his seat. "So if I want to—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not serious!"<br/>
<br/>
He starts, as though you've kicked him under the table, and his eyes rove over the shop again without settling on you.<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't the way I want things to be," he says. "You know that. And yeah, I'd put things back in an instant if I had a chance to. But I'm not going to ruin whatever I've got now just because I can't have what I used to have."<br/>
<br/>
"Like a chance to get it on with Rachel," you dryly observe.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not talking about <i>that!</i>" he exclaims. "Can you get your fucking mind out of the—?" <br/>
<br/>
He catches and masters his emotions with a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
"What I'm saying is, here I am. Here, now, like this. What would <i>you</i> do if it was <i>you</i> who was—" He waves a hand in the air. "What if suddenly something went <i>bang</i> and we— we were back to before?" He glances nervously over his shoulder at the counter, but the fat woman who owns the shop has gone into the back. "What would <i>you</i> do if suddenly <i>you</i> were sitting here? Like this, after the last few days?" He plucks at the front of his shirt.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'd shit myself stupid,</i> you think, but don't answer. You just fold your arms more tightly across your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, whatever you would do, I think that's what I should do," Will concludes. "We say we want to act normally. So I think I should act like you would, if things were going the way they're going now. Besides," he adds, "what if something does go <i>bang</i> and we were back to normal? Wouldn't you rather be like this, now, here, than the way you were before?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't like the faint sneer that distends his lip, but you'd have to admit that almost anything would be better than where you were before.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you say?" Will asks.<br/>
<br/>
The words are very heavy, but there are no others for you. "Go ahead." You check your phone. "We need to get school." Will looks doubtful, so you give him a look. "I'm serious, Kelsey. What you said made a lot of sense. I just have to get used to it is all."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It does start to make more sense as you drive to school. Kelsey would be rightly freaked out at being trapped in your body for the rest of her life. But she's always been an ambitious go-getter who runs over all obstacles. Naturally, once she got used to the change, she'd try to turn your shit life into something more successful.<br/>
<br/>
And she's given you permission to do the same thing with her life, at least implicitly.<br/>
<br/>
Not that there's much that needs improvement. You wince as it occurs to you that it's only her love life that needs work.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232122312122232223
author_id: seuzz
title: A New Leaf
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your talk with Kelsey has given you a lot to think about.<br/>
<br/>
For a start, maybe you should stop thinking of that person you were talking to as "Kelsey Blankenship" and start thinking of them as "Will Prescott," and of yourself as Kelsey. Because what if they're right, and this body swap is a permanent thing? Do you want to go through your life feeling like you're in the wrong skin?<br/>
<br/>
It's Friday, and nearly a full school week has passed since the change. You've slid through it without much difficulty, but without paying much attention either. Instinct—Kelsey's instincts—have got you through her classes, and as you look back you can see that you've done a pretty good job of channeling her personality. (Maybe too good of a job at times; you wouldn't have had that nasty fight with, er, <i>Will</i> in the parking lot yesterday if you had done a better job of being yourself and not the girl whose body you're trapped in.) But you've been on automatic pilot, letting Kelsey's body and brain slide along the usual grooves while you've kept your hand off the controls.<br/>
<br/>
But if you're going to be "Kelsey Blankenship" from now on, maybe you should start being <i>your</i> kind of "Kelsey Blankenship."<br/>
<br/>
Even then, though, the love life of the new you is not something you want to prioritize. Not now, at any rate, and maybe not later, either.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you've got a fresh and tingly feeling all over as you pull ... <i>your</i> ... BMW into the student parking lot at Westside on Friday morning. Kelsey's instinct is to fume and roll her eyes at the clotted traffic worming its way through the lot, but you force yourself to relax. You turn on the satellite radio, and switch from the light pop that Kelsey favors to something more metal.<br/>
<br/>
That "fresh and tingly feeling" intensifies as you get out and stride off toward the school with your chin up. You dressed conservatively again today (as you've dressed all week) in jeans and boots and a dark blouse, but you let yourself enjoy the feeling of your body more, because it's going to be <i>your</i> body. That means you're going to have to start exercising again tomorrow morning—you've let Kelsey's workouts slide—and it also means you're going to start enjoying the dresses with the short hemlines again.<br/>
<br/>
And as long as you're enjoying your new body, you might as well let others enjoy it too. When you catch some boys—juniors, by the look of them—turning to stare at you, you favor them with a small smile.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, you're all smiles when you breeze into Mr. Walberg's class and drop your pack on your desk. Amanda looks up from her phone. "Didn't you get my texts?" she asks, a little peevishly.<br/>
<br/>
"I had my phone off," you tell her very shortly. "The planet doesn't start and stop on <i>your</i> schedule."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Wow, that felt good,</i> you think. Amanda has always intimidated you, but she also makes Kelsey very tired, for it's stressful trying to stay one step ahead of her. Maybe you should find some other friends. People not as snobby and competitive.<br/>
<br/>
And when Will Prescott comes sauntering in, you decide that's a place to start.<br/>
<br/>
There's a coltish lurch to his gait, as though he's still finding his legs, but it's not a graceless, ugly walk, and his shoulders are back and his chin is up as he crosses the room. (In your mind's eye, he ought to be hunched over.) You smile to yourself as he swings his pack onto the back of his chair and slides into the seat. Caleb is giving him a hooded and speculative look. (<i>How much teasing has the new Will taken from his friends?</i> you wonder.) That you'd get to talk to Will in front of Caleb only makes you more determined to say the thing in public.<br/>
<br/>
You walk over to where he is seated, a wide smile on your face. He is fussing his books, and he starts a little when he looks up to see you looming over him.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Will," you tell him. "I just wanted to tell you, I really like your new look. It really suits you."<br/>
<br/>
He stares back, wide-eyed, and his mouth falls open a little. Then a slight blush comes into his cheeks, and he smiles back. "Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You touch the hollow just below your throat. "You should find yourself a kind of choker, something leather. It would look good on you. You've got the neck for it, and it would match your new gear."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll think about it," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You deepen your dimples at him, then turn and walk back to your seat. You can feel Mansfield's eyes on you, and Amanda stares at you from under her brows. "Meow," she says as you settle back into your desk. "That was catty even for you."<br/>
<br/>
"You thought I wasn't being serious, Mandy?" you retort, using a grade-school name that Amanda hates. "It's about time he stopped dressing like he was still in middle school." You glance back over your shoulder at Will, who has turned and is in conference with Caleb. "Besides, he really does look good."<br/>
<br/>
Amanda's jaw falls open, but she says nothing further.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's not exactly a new leaf for the new Kelsey that you turn over that day. Even if you wanted to change everything about your new situation, it would be a bad idea to turn the box over and shake it good But you do spend the day keeping alert to your surroundings and to your feelings about them. <br/>
<br/>
In second-period's Classical Literature class (one of Kelsey's few non-AP classes; she couldn't fit AP English into her schedule), you look past Brooke Galloway and Ricky Golia, the two sad-sack friends Kelsey has in there, toward Anita Nuevo and Julia Paez and their friends. Kelsey has typically held aloof from the girls' sports teams as a lot of thundering loudmouths. But although Anita (like her friend Stephanie Wyatt) is both a boor and and a bore, Julia and her friend Haley Flanagan from the basketball squad have bright personalities, and it seems to you that it would be nice to have some friends who were competitive only on the basketball court, and not in the lunchroom. You mark them down, along with some of the soccer-playing girls that Kelsey also, vaguely, knows as possible friends to cultivate.<br/>
<br/>
In third-period AP World History you look past Brooke again, and Lisa Yarborough, to take in Parker Stott and Jack Li. Parker is cut from the same cloth as Geoff Mansfield—tall and dark-haired and well-groomed—but he's not a snot, even though Parker's family are also members at the country club. He's also good friends with Kristina Townes and Wendy Terrill, who are the kind of sweet girls that Kelsey usually disdains, but in whose company you feel like you could relax while still dominating them. As for Jack Li: It's a very Kelsey-like thought (which you don't reject on that account) that a smart, good-looking guy who is openly gay would look good in your company, and that Jack would suit you a lot better than Charles Hartlein or any of <i>his</i> friends.<br/>
<br/>
You're going to have to find a new study circle, though. Neither you nor Kelsey can stand the repulsive Ryan Ness. He dresses too nice and is too much of a burning hunk for his own good, and has already turned into the kind of douchebag who will wind up running a fraternity. You'll take Lisa with you, though, when you find a new place for your study hall. Just the thought "I am Kelsey Blankenship" is enough to sever the last of your feelings for her, and you can see her now as someone who wasn't suited for you even as she wasn't worth your time. But she is a sweet girl, and maybe you can use your influence to get her away from Mansfield and pair her with a guy who would be better for her.<br/>
<br/>
And lunchtime with Mansfield and Amanda and Martin Gardinhire and Anthony Kirk and all  the rest of that rotten crew only strengthens your urge to dump all of Kelsey's old friends and to find new ones. You find your eye wandering across the cafeteria, looking for other people to hang out with. Catherine Muskov has too big of a social circle to be worth cultivating, but in sixth-period AP French you find yourself giving Hannah Westrick a second look. Kelsey hated her the moment she showed up at Westside. The girl has the personality of an avalanche, and Kelsey's qualms only intensified when Marc Garner brought her to one of Kelsey's regular Saturday night parties, and Hannah got passing-out drunk. But Hannah's found lots of friends; and Kelsey likes Marc, so it might be a good idea to give Hannah a second chance.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's Friday, and all day long people have been buzzing about how to spend the evening. There's not a lot going on, aside from the after-school socializing that will be happening at Catherine Muskov's, and which will probably intensify into something resembling a party. You've no interest in seeing <i>Howling Skies,</i> a new movie that's opened, and which Anthony has suggested (with dripping irony) that you and everyone go out to see. You're a little more alert, though, when you get a text from Alyssa Randal, one of your contacts at Eastman High, that there will be a party at Joshua Cheswick's place. Kelsey has been out to Joshua's before, but it was in the company of Hennepin and his friends, and they are likely to be out there, and you're pretty sure you're not ready to deal with <i>that</i> situation yet.<br/>
<br/>
But the only alternatives are to stay in, or to go with your parents to the country club.<br/>
<br/>
Unless you decided to be really adventurous, and take Kelsey to the Warehouse.</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132321223121222322233
author_id: seuzz
title: No Strings
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't want to start your new life by moping at home or socializing with your parents and a lot of other old people at the country club. But neither do you want to hurl yourself into a shark tank like the Warehouse. Joshua Cheswick's party seems like a nice, safe alternative.<br/>
<br/>
And if Karl and his friends happen to show up too? Well, you can be nice to them while keeping aloof. It's not like anyone knows that you and Karl have been knocking boots.<br/>
<br/>
Amanda has been uncharacteristically silent all day, and you've gone on social media only enough to reinforce your feeling that that's a cesspool you'd really like to crawl out of. But when Amanda contacts you to ask about your Friday plans, you lay a false trail for her and the others by telling them that you'll be out at the country club with your parents. Soon, all the plans are set for you and your usual set to meet up there along with some other kids from around the city.<br/>
<br/>
And when you ditch them for Joshua's, that will be the first signal that you're shaking off your old friends for a new set.<br/>
<br/>
Around about seven you start getting ready. Joshua is a stoner-wannabe rather than an actual stoner—a kid who sports a wooly tangle of chestnut hair, tie-dyed t-shirts, dirty cutoff jeans and sandals, and <i>very</i> retro tastes in music. But it's all a pose, and you're pretty sure that Marc Garner, the clean-cut captain of the Westside soccer team, smokes more pot than Joshua. But that makes Joshua's exactly the kind of safe but bohemian scene that Kelsey likes, and you dress accordingly in a very short, sleeveless, black silk dress cinched at the waist with a thick, strap-like belt with a giant silver buckle; half a dozen silver and turquoise bracelets unevenly distributed between both wrists; strappy sandals that tie up just below the knee; a toe ring; and bolt-like silver studs in each ear. The effect, as you admire yourself in the mirror, is obviously expensive without being too flashy. You accessorize with a tiny purse on a string-like strap, and a few buds from your own marijuana stash and a small bowl to smoke them in. You also take along a few hundred dollars folded up in a silver money clip, which you can drop with Joshua to help defray his expenses. As you stride out to your BMW, you almost feel like you're on your way to a Hollywood party.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joshua, being an Eastman student, lives on the northeast side of town in a modest-sized ranch-style house. There's already a small crowd there, and you have to park halfway down the block and hoof it over.<br/>
<br/>
The doorbell is answered by Tina Branson, one of Alyssa Randal's friends, and you and she exchange bright greetings and a quick, casual hug. Tina expresses surprise at seeing you; you roll your eyes and tell her it was a choice of Joshua's or the country club with your parents, which made it <i>no contest at all.</i><br/>
<br/>
Despite all the cars, the upstairs is empty save for Joshua's parents, who are watching TV in the living room, and a few Eastman kids pouring themselves some colas in the kitchen. Tina leads you over to a door that opens onto a narrow flight of wooden steps leading down into the basement, which is where Joshua and his friends like to hang out. It's a big space, almost like a second, underground floor, that has been turned into a rumpus room. The walls are lined with knotty pine, and the cement floor is softened (slightly) with cast-off scraps of office carpet. There's a dumpy brown sofa and lots of beanbag chairs.<br/>
<br/>
Also puppets. At least two dozen marionettes dangle by their strings from the low ceiling, and they drift and clatter gently against each other as the party crowd stirs the air, which is already faintly acrid with the smell of pot. It's dark, too, with the only light coming from the half-dozen lava lamps that sit on wall-mounted shelves. Zither music buzzes softly as an undertone to the conversation.<br/>
<br/>
You flinch at the sight of a shadow-cloaked figure in a wide-brimmed hat, perched on the arm of a sofa. <i>So Karl's here,</i> you think. <i>That could be awkward.</i> You slide over to the side of the room and lean against another sofa, where a guy and a girl are sitting. You introduce yourself, and they introduces themselves as "Ricky" and "Eileen." She has long, tangled hair that could be any color in the dark; he wears the kind of shapeless ball cap that you used to wear, but is dressed more nicely in a heavy sweatshirt and jeans, and his hair is much shorter.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you come with anyone?" Ricky asks after you've introduced yourselves.<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
He leans back and tilts his head to smile up at you. Eileen punches him in the shoulder. "You go to Westside, right?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. But Alyssa texted me, told me about this party. I like coming out to Joshua's." You hug yourself, because it's colder and danker than you'd like for the way you're dressed. "Even if the puppets kind of creep me out."<br/>
<br/>
Ricky laughs and starts to say something, but you're distracted by the hatted figure, which has risen and come shambling over. At first you cringe a little at being discovered by Karl. But then you realize it isn't Karl.<br/>
<br/>
It's Will.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Kelsey," he says. His voice is soft and a little thin. "I didn't know you were going to come out for this."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Will. Ditto." You can't help smiling at him. "I've never seen you out here before." That sounds a little snippy, so you soften it by adding, "Or maybe I've been unlucky and missed you."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs, softly. "You just get here? You get anything to drink? What do you want?" he adds when you shake your head. "Then I'll surprise you." He walks off, and your eye drifts down to his ass. It's skinny and lost in the seat of his pants. <i>He could never put on a lot of muscle,</i> you find yourself thinking, <i>but I bet I could talk Kelsey into working out more. My old carcass could use the beef.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Does he go to Westside too?" Eileen asks. "There's so many hot guys out there." You leave it to Ricky to defend the honor the male student body at Eastman.<br/>
<br/>
"Here, it's just a Diet Coke," Will says when he returns. "I remember you're okay with those. I'm being extra careful this time," he says as he hands you a plastic cup. <br/>
<br/>
"We met cute at our last party," you tell Ricky and Eileen. "He dumped his drink on me, then sat on me."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" Ricky exclaims. "Were you plowed?" he asks Will.<br/>
<br/>
"No, he was just really glad to see me," you say. "I'm glad to see <i>you</i> here tonight," you tell Will.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm glad you're here too."<br/>
<br/>
"What I mean is," you say, and run a fingertip over the rim of your cup, "I've always told people you don't get out enough. At least, I don't see you at enough parties."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes fall. "I'm trying to get out more, be more sociable."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm glad."<br/>
<br/>
The conversation briefly falters. Then the music changes and Eileen leaps to her feet. "I want to dance," she says, and grabs Will by the arm. He briefly holds back, and you think he glances at you. Then, stiffly, he follows her into the middle of the room, where other dancing couples are starting to move.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves you with Ricky, who <i>doesn't</i> ask you to dance, and over the techno-beat you ask him about himself. It turns out he's the lead vocalist and guitar player for an Eastman band, Margin Walker. He's dating a girl at Westside you vaguely know, Lori Sherman, but the two of them had a bad fight and he's taking a break from her, at least for a night. That, you figure, makes him safe to be with, and you settle onto the arm of the sofa next to him.<br/>
<br/>
As the music plays, Will moves from girl to girl, dancing with an ease that leaves you feeling almost spiteful with envy. Kelsey is a good dancer—she's taken Dance classes along with her gymnastics classes—and the new you gets a lot of attention. Maybe not all of it the kind you'd want him to have, for after watching him a bit, Ricky leans over to ask you if he's gay. "I don't think so," you reply, but it gives you pause. With Kelsey at the controls, is there a chance that the new Will Prescott might turn out to be bi- or at least bi-curious?<br/>
<br/>
Between Ricky's question, and your annoyance at Will's skill and popularity on the dance floor, it's not long before you grow restless and move toward the door leading up and out. You're just exiting the kitchen, though, when you hear your name called, and turn to find that Will has followed you up. "Where you going?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"To get some fresh air."<br/>
<br/>
He nods, glances back, then advances. "I'll come with you."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart beats a little harder.<br/>
<br/>
There's another couple on the back porch, which is dark, but they move off as you come out, and you and Will move to the opposite side as well, so that you're practically alone. When you rub your arm, Will asks if something's wrong.<br/>
<br/>
"No. It's just— God, you're so much better at this than me. Getting out with people, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you mean. Meghan's party was the first time I'd been out to someone else's party in I don't know how long. You should know that."<br/>
<br/>
"So this is like a fresh start for you too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes." He pauses. "I thought we were going to be okay with doing that with each other. Each other's ... lives ... I mean."<br/>
<br/>
That is what you said. But there's another meaning to "with each other," isn't there? Instead of heading out into a new life separately, maybe you could go together?</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323212231212223222331
author_id: seuzz
title: The Things You'll Do to Not Be Lonely
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You start shaking all over. You figure it's the chill of the night air, and you hug yourself tightly. "Are you cold?" Will asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I think so."<br/>
<br/>
"We can go back inside."<br/>
<br/>
"But I like it out here." Despite the cool air, the darkness has a velvety softness to it. "I should have brought a shawl or something."<br/>
<br/>
Will says nothing. Then you start at a touch to your back. You turn, and find that he has stepped up close, and has his hand on your shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
He withdraws it. "Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"No, that's okay," you stammer. "I liked that." Yet it's with reluctance that you unclasp your arms and put one around his torso. "You can warm me up," you say as you pull yourself to him.<br/>
<br/>
Neither of you speak for a minute. "God, what a dumb thing to say," Will says when he does speak.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't said it yet. Because it's so dumb. But in a million years I never figured I'd find myself standing here, doing this."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm glad we are."<br/>
<br/>
Then you break out in violent trembles, and snot turns loose behind your tear ducts. "Oh, God!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?" Will asks, sounding alarmed.<br/>
<br/>
You snuffle and sniff. "Now it's my turn to be scared!" You fumble for you purse to find a tissue, but you left your purse downstairs, and you can only pinch at the tip and bridge of your nose to stem the hot snot and tears. "You were the one who was so scared at first, remember? Back at the old school that first night? But now—" You break off.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you scared of?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't even know! I just am!"<br/>
<br/>
You are scared, suddenly, and it was feeling Will at your side, inside your arm, that made you realize it. You've been getting through each day one at a time by following Kelsey's instincts. But always, in the back of your mind, has been the thought that you'd somehow get back into your own body, and that even if you didn't, Kelsey would be in the same pickle that you're in, so there's be at least two of you fighting this "curse" or whatever it is.<br/>
<br/>
Is that what you're scared of? Of being left all alone?<br/>
<br/>
Because if Kelsey has shown anything tonight and over the last few days, it's that she doesn't need <i>you</i> or your help. She doesn't need your help to be "Will Prescott," anymore than you need her help being "Kelsey Blankenship." But she's proved that she can be even better than you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That wasn't envy I felt downstairs,</i> you now realize. <i>I wasn't jealous because she was better with the girls than I was. I was scared, scared that she'd go off and leave me behind because she's got this new life she can make.<br/>
<br/>
She's going to go off and leave me here, in her old life. And then it will just be me, dealing with this curse.</i><br/>
<br/>
"You don't have anything to be scared of, uh, Will," the new you says. "You've got lots of friends. And, you know, if you can be, uh, <i>me</i>—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want any of your friends!" Your breathing turns haggard. "I'm not talking about <i>them!</i> I'm talking about—"<br/>
<br/>
Then you can't fight it anymore. You throw yourself against him, wrapping your arms about him, and crying into his shoulder. You shake and shiver and weep and gasp as he hugs you back.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going anywhere," he says.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh God, she knows what I'm thinking!</i> You shake harder. "Promise me?" you snuffle.<br/>
<br/>
"I promise you."<br/>
<br/>
You hold him for a very long time, until you can finally lift your face without snorting. (Though you have to poke at your eyes with your fingertips to stem the tears.)<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to be friends, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." He sounds puzzled.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Don't be bossy,</i> you tell yourself. <i>Except if I'm not bossy, how is he going to know what I want?</i><br/>
<br/>
"What I mean is, you're going to start coming out to my place. Tomorrow night! For my— your Saturday night parties," you correct yourself. "And not just there! At school too, and— Oh, <i>Jesus!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," he says. "That'll be interesting for lots of people."<br/>
<br/>
You snort, because now you don't care. "I hope you don't mind if I tell you that I don't like your friends, because I don't think <i>you</i> liked them a lot either, and I don't want to be friends with them anymore!"<br/>
<br/>
"So who do you want to be friends with?" Will asks. He sounds shocked.<br/>
<br/>
The word is impossible to form. But then it does form, and when it rushes out it carries almost all the air from your lungs with it. "You."<br/>
<br/>
You stare him in the face, and he stares back. Your legs are stiff, and your limbs frozen. Neither of you move.<br/>
<br/>
Then Will pushes his face toward yours, and you lean forward to meet him.<br/>
<br/>
You kiss.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"No, a cheesecake would be too heavy," you jabber into your cell phone as you impatiently study the shelf in front of you. <i>Where have they moved it now?</i> "And we don't want anything we have to slice, that's just asking for trouble. If they don't have the pecan pie miniatures, do they have <i>anything</i> that's like a tart?<br/>
<br/>
It's Brooke that you're talking too. She's over at Cherry Brook Bakery, picking up some of the supplies for tonight's party. Kelsey has a "social" every Saturday night at her house for her country-club friends and a few more. Very small, very exclusive, and very civilized. For entertainment: board games and cards and movies playing softly in the corners of the room. For drinks and snacks: wine and cordials and hors d'oeuvres and pastries from the most expensive bakeries in the city.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, and weed. It wouldn't be a party at Kelsey's without the weed that Martin Gardinhire procures from where you don't want to know.<br/>
<br/>
It's the job of Kelsey's friends to help set it up, and Amanda and Brooke Galloway are running around town getting stuff for it. You are also running errands around town, but you have come to this particular grocery store—Eagle Foods, on the southwest side of town—as a favor for your father. It's the only store that carries his favorite brand of coffee.<br/>
<br/>
Only now it looks like they've stopped stocking it.<br/>
<br/>
You blow a strand of hair from your eye, and after telling Brooke that, yes, okay, orange-glazed scones are probably the best of the available choices at Cherry Brook, you hang up and march off in search of a stock boy to help. You find one in the next aisle, kneeling in front of the lowest shelf and moving boxes of chicken broth around. "Excuse me," you say.<br/>
<br/>
The stock boy turns and looks up at you. You take a step back and almost shit yourself.<br/>
<br/>
It's Steve Patterson. The biggest asshole on the Westside basketball team. For an instant you are yourself again, and you <i>know</i> that in a minute Steve is going to stand up, pick you up by your neck, and hang you from one of the fluorescent lights overhead.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, he smiles and his eyes light up. "Oh, hey Kelsey," he says.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh yeah, that's right, I'm Kelsey Blankenship now. Steve has nothing against me.</i> But you can't keep from grinning stupidly and gasping back at him. "Hi Steve! Um ... Do you work here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Substitute work, sometimes," he says. He straightens up, but remains kneeling. The motherfucker is so tall that, even on one knee he can almost look you in the eye. "My dad's the store manager, and when someone calls in sick, sometimes I have to come out and cover."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's gotta suck."<br/>
<br/>
"I get paid."<br/>
<br/>
"Still, on a Saturday. Um, how long do you have to work here?" You shove away a strand of hair that falls into your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Just still the start of the evening shift. Eight."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's good! You, uh, don't want to ruin your Saturday night."<br/>
<br/>
He holds your eye, and you feel yourself daunted by the gleam that comes into it.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I didn't have any plans," he says. "Except maybe to find a hoop and a backboard someplace, practice my free throws."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. "Is that your idea of Saturday night fun?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But I don't know where any parties are happening." That gleam in his eye deepens. "You know of any? What are <i>your</i> plans?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh my God, he's coming onto me!</i> you think, and again you almost shit yourself. "Well, I'm, um, having some friends over at my place," you stammer. "Just a little— You wouldn't have any fun at it." <i>Shut up, Kelsey, shut up, don't tell him that!</i> "We just, we just hang out and play cards, talk—"<br/>
<br/>
"What, like poker? You guys play poker?" That gleam turns hungry.<br/>
<br/>
"Well ... yes. If people want to."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of stakes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, no you don't!" You cover your mouth to stifle the laugh. "I've heard about you! You're a card shark!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not a card shark, Kelsey. I just know how to play." He finally smiles, and the whiteness of his grin belies his claim to not be a shark. "You scared your friends won't be able to handle me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>know</i> they won't be able to handle you!"<br/>
<br/>
"So what about you?" He straightens up a little more. "Think you could handle me?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart almost seizes up. "At what? Poker?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, just me. Do you think you could handle me, Kelsey?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Jesus, he's asking me out!</i> you realize. Which would almost be a dream come true for Kelsey.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232122312122232223311
author_id: seuzz
title: The First Temptation of Kelsey Blankenship
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Steve Patterson is probably the most eligible guy at Westside High School. Tall, athletic, handsome, masterful, and inarguably the second-best player on the basketball squad (and according to some <i>the actual best</i>), he is the kind of guy who owns every room he enters.<br/>
<br/>
And he knows it too, so he is arrogant, swaggering, and casually cruel to anyone who gets in his way. You've never had a serious run-in with him, except for the few times you've been standing in his way and failed to step aside when he came down the hallway, and even then he never did anything worse than spin you around by your shoulder and ram you face-first into a locker. But for all that—and maybe because of all that—landing a date with Patterson is a crowning achievement at Westside.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe not such a crowning achievement. The guy is the biggest horndog in the school, and is almost contemptuous about picking girls up, stringing them along, fucking them blind up in the private loft above the school gym, and casting them aside.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey hasn't been one of his conquests. But she herself is just arrogant enough to think that she could catch and hold Patterson. After all, she's the richest and most stylish girl at Westside; an ex-cheerleader who still has the moves and body of one; and she's at the top of her own social heap. She would be a catch for anyone, including Patterson. At least in her estimation.<br/>
<br/>
Which means that <i>you</i> are just arrogant enough to think that you'd be quite the catch for him. Besides (a side of you giggles down underneath) how hilarious would it be to fuck Patterson considering who you really are?<br/>
<br/>
"So come out to my place tonight," you tell him with a wide, smug smile. "We'll see how you handle it."<br/>
<br/>
"You'll have to pick me up," he says. "I got a ride out here."<br/>
<br/>
"I can do that. What time did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eight."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be here then."<br/>
<br/>
And you are so distracted and dazzled that you leave the store without remembering to ask for the coffee you went out to get.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next few hours are nerve-wracking as you and a couple of your girlfriends set things up in your wing of the house. There's not a lot of prep, but you and Amanda are both perfectionists who have to have the last word, so you're constantly fixing things that she has messed up, and she is constantly messing them up again for you to fix. And underneath all this is the agonizing sense of anticipation of going out to pick up Steve. You don't tell any of the girls that he is coming out, though. You want that to be a surprise.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, seven-thirty comes, and even though some of the regular guests—Brent Pruitt and Anthony Kirk and a few more—have started to arrive, you excuse yourself by telling them (truthfully!) that there's something in town you need to pick up.<br/>
<br/>
Steve is waiting in front of the grocery store when you pull into the lot, and for a minute you're worried that, at nearly six-and-a-half feet of rangy muscle, he won't be able to fold himself into your sporty little BMW, but he somehow manages. "I have a favor to ask you," he says as you pull away toward the street. "Can we stop by the school so I can shower and change?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not at your place?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to see my dad," he says. "I got fresh clothes up at the school, though. I just need to run in, wash and soap myself. It'll only take me ten, fifteen minutes. It's on the way to your place too, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
It isn't, not exactly, but you make the detour. After pulling up next to the gym, Steve says, "You don't want to wait in the car," which is true enough, so you follow him in.<br/>
<br/>
Steve, like most of the top athletes, has been granted a key to the facilities by the very indulgent coaching staff, and he lets you into the gym via a door that opens directly into one of the basketball courts, and he invites you to take a seat on one of the bleachers while he gets ready in the boys' changing room. But he's still in his original work clothes when he emerges ten minutes later. "My clean clothes are up in the loft," he tells you. He cocks his head. "Have you ever been up there?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart freezes, and you shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna look?"<br/>
<br/>
Ice seems to form in your lungs, so that you can hardly speak.<br/>
<br/>
"We, uh, should get back to my place, Steve," you squeak. "It's my party, and my friends are all waiting for us there."<br/>
<br/>
Steve regards you coolly. Then he strides across the open floor to where you're sitting. You shrink back.<br/>
<br/>
But he sinks to one knee in front of you, and his smile is warm. So is the hand that he lays over yours.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure it's a great party out there, Kelsey," he says. "But I'd rather spend my time with <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He holds your eye, and your breath becomes very labored. His eyes are a cold, clear gray, like icebergs floating in the frozen Arctic seas, and they remain chilly even when warmed by his smile. But they are dominating, and almost hypnotic. For a moment, neither of you speaks.<br/>
<br/>
Before you can find your voice, he stands up and stares down at you from his great height. "But give me five minutes to change," he says, "and I'll be down and we can go out to your place."<br/>
<br/>
But it's not five minutes and it's not ten minutes, but closer to fifteen, and he is still upstairs in the loft over the gym, when you get to your feet to go looking for him.  You feel foolish as you do, and you know quite well that you're being manipulated, that he's delaying so as to pull you to the center of the web he's been weaving for you since you asked him his Saturday night plans at the store.<br/>
<br/>
And yet you want to be manipulated. You don't want it to be your fault when—<br/>
<br/>
You mount the narrow, creaking staircase hidden in the corner of the gym, behind the bleachers. At the top is a shallow landing and a scarred wooden door. You tap at it with a knuckle. "Steve?" you quaver.<br/>
<br/>
The door opens, and he is standing there, a hooded expression on his face. "Almost ready," he says, but he doesn't move.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Last chance,</i> you realize. <i>This is the moment. I can go downstairs to wait, and he'll come down to tell me that he's changed his mind about going to my house. Or I can come inside, and then he'll—</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>No,</i> you think. <i>He won't be able to take me if </i>I take him first!<br/>
<br/>
You step through the doorway, and wrap your arms around his lean, hard torso. You pull yourself to him, and nuzzle your cheek against his chest.<br/>
<br/>
Steve puts an arm around your back, and pulls you closer. The door clicks shut behind you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He takes the bottom and you take the top. There's no negotiation. He's too big to rest atop you anyway, and Kelsey insists on taking the top when she's with Karl, so it's natural for you to crawl atop him after Steve has laid himself out in the middle of the loft.<br/>
<br/>
It's a filthy room, with heaps of junk—crates and discarded gymnastics equipment and weight sets—packed in under the rafters of the gym. There is one clear space in the middle where some cracked and crusty gym mats have been spread out. Steve lays back on one of these, resting on his elbows, as you straddle him. Then you lay atop him, to kiss. So good is he with his tongue—it feels like it's a foot long, with the strength and dexterity of an anaconda—and with his teeth and his lips that it's not long before you're gasping and groaning and tugging under your dress at your panties. He sits up long enough to help you pull his shirt off, revealing lean slabs of muscle under a rug of curly brown hair. Then he wriggles out of his jeans and you hug the shaft—already, arrogantly rubber-wrapped—that thrusts out. Together, with a minimum of words but a maximum of sweat, you negotiate his entrance, and you clench as he thrusts and pumps. And it's hardly anytime before he blossoms inside you, like the mushroom cloud from a nuclear explosion.<br/>
<br/>
That cracks open your own reserves, and after you finish shrieking you fall atop him to rest there, moaning. He clasps you to himself, and nuzzles at your ear.<br/>
<br/>
For half an hour you lay there, murmuring nonsense noises at each other, until he revives and pushes you off. He takes the dress off you, and sets to nibbling at you all over, from chin to cunt and down the insides of your thighs. After he has worked himself up again, and loosened you all over, he rolls onto his back again, changes out rubbers, and does it again with you.<br/>
<br/>
Ten o'clock comes, and then eleven. Texts pile up on your phone, until you are forced—during one of your breaks—to reply with the excuse that you're helping a friend through a personal crisis and will see everyone tomorrow. When midnight comes, you are still with Steve, sprawled bonelessly atop him. He runs his fingertips up and down your spine and breathes softly in your ear. Your eyes droop, and the world fades.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You feel very grimy when you struggle awake the next morning, and you're greeted by an even grimier morning light filtering in through the filthy windows high up under the gymnasium eaves. You pull your discarded dress toward you, but haven't the strength to put it on. You look around.<br/>
<br/>
Steve is nowhere to be found.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, fuck,</i> you think. <i>What have I done?</i></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132321223121222322233111
author_id: seuzz
title: Return to Self
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You cuss yourself out long and hard as you struggle into your dress. <i>That was the stupidest thing you could have done, Kelsey,</i> you fume to yourself. <i>Will. Whatever your name is.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fear and horror fight for possession of your mind and soul as you totter out of the loft and down the stairs. How in the hell are you going to explain to your friends where you were and why you missed the party you were supposed to be hosting? <i>I was sitting up all night with a sick friend.</i> No one would believe it of you, even if that was still a thing in this day and age. Then there's the shame and humiliation of thinking that you could snag Steve Patterson for more than a one-night thing. There was no sign of him in the loft, and there's no sign of him downstairs either, so it really does look like he abandoned you. (How he got away, when you're the one who drove you and him up to the school, doesn't occur to you until afterward.) <i>I'm just another one of his conquests. Like Deanna Showalter, or Kendra Saunders!</i> Worse: <i>What if he took selfies of us while I was passed out? What if he posts them? Oh, God, I'll die!</i><br/>
<br/>
But the worst fear—which makes you want to throw up—goes much deeper. <i>What if I've fucked things up with Will?</i><br/>
<br/>
Part of that terror, of course, has to do with Kelsey being furious if she finds out what you've done. Would she have given in to temptation that way? Maybe, but you doubt she'd ever admit it. Which means that if she finds out what you did, she might never speak to you again.<br/>
<br/>
And that would unbearable. Because you did have that moment with each other Friday night, at Joshua Cheswick's party. And the longer you think about it, the larger it looms in your memory and imagination. Two people not merely clinging to each other against the the dark and occult unknown, but finding in each other an unexpected tenderness and mercy.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Jesus God! What if I've fucked that up?</i> you want to wail as you stumble out to your car.<br/>
<br/>
The only possible way of reconciling with Kelsey, you realize as you buckle yourself in, is by confessing all to her, and throwing yourself on her mercy.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
When Will texts you back, it's to say to meet him at Don's Donuts. That's where Keith works on weekend mornings, and you're a little surprised at the choice of meeting place—under the eyes of one of your friends—and you're further taken aback when you enter to find him dressed in a very nice gray wool suit. It's only then that you remember that today is Sunday, and that he needs to be at church in a little while. When you ask him about the suit—which is new—he tells you that the Garners picked it out for him. "It's a hell of a lot nicer than the white shirt and black pants that y— That I used to wear," he says. "So what's up?"<br/>
<br/>
You can see it in his eye: a veiled, but unmistakable curiosity about why you look like a girl who's been ridden hard and put away wet. (Which is what you are.) You snuffle into a napkin and do your best not to notice the way that Keith, behind the counter is openly ogling you.<br/>
<br/>
"I had a terrible night last night," you tell him. "I skipped my own party. I was out with someone else." You start to weep.<br/>
<br/>
"I know," Will says. "I was at your place. You invited me, remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God!" You almost suffer a nervous collapse right there. "What did everyone say?"<br/>
<br/>
"About me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, about <i>me!</i> Not being there!" <br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to know."<br/>
<br/>
You bury your face in your hands and weep unashamedly. Will moves over to stroke your arm. You snuggle up next to him. It's ten minutes, at least, before you're able to speak again.<br/>
<br/>
"And it was on account of the stupidest thing that anyone ever did," you tell him. "I met up with Steve Patterson. And I spent the night with him."<br/>
<br/>
Will freezes, says nothing for a long moment. "I see," he finally says. "So how was it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up! I don't want to think about it!"<br/>
<br/>
"So think about what you're going to tell people. They're going to know you were with someone."<br/>
<br/>
"I know! Oh, God!" Almost you lose it again. "I guess I should just man up and tell them I was with Steve. Oh, for fuck's sake, why'd you have to go out to my party? I'd rather tell them I was with you!"<br/>
<br/>
"We can do that."<br/>
<br/>
Your head shoots up.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I left early," Will says. "They didn't think I belonged, and you weren't there to vouch for me. If you want to tell them you came out to meet <i>me</i> and—" He leans in to peck you on the cheek.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He has to go to church, and then home. You have to go home too. Everyone (including your parents) has moved on to the country club for Sunday brunch. You clean up, scrubbing off all the grime and tears and stress, and replacing it with light makeup and fresh clothes: cut-off jeans and a sweatshirt. You are still feeling wrung out when you emerge from your bedroom at a little after noon, but you find energy in picking up the game room from the party last night. After you have the room straightened and vacuumed, you go downstairs and get yourself some leftovers from the refrigerator.<br/>
<br/>
Texts in the meantime have come in, from friends and from your parents, looking for you. You tell them you're at home. Steve has also texted, to ask what happened to you. (He says he jogged down to McDonald's to get some breakfast for the both of you, and he sounds a little miffed that you flew away.) You tell him that it was fun but it was a one-time thing. He only sends back a one-word reply: <i>Watevr</i>. You'll have to gauge his mood on Monday, if you see him.<br/>
<br/>
But the real crisis comes that afternoon, when Amanda asks to meet you at Le Metropolitain. You're expecting trouble, but are unprepared for the crowd of girls—not only Amanda, but Brooke, Lisa, the Garners, and Olivia Byrne—when you arrive. It has all the signs of being an intervention.<br/>
<br/>
But you meet it magnificently, if you do say so yourself. To their demand to know what happened, you reply that you met up with a guy and spent the night with him. And when, undaunted, they ask you who it was, you tell them it was Will Prescott. That leaves them thunderstruck, until Amanda starts making catty comments, which you shut up by telling her that you think you and him are going to start going out. "We made a real connection last night," you declare. "You've always underestimated him, Amanda, but you're too conceited to notice anything really good." Amanda turns very white and says nothing else the rest of the afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
Not that the "intervention" lasts long after that. The other girls mumble their congratulations and retreat, looking utterly baffled. Eva and Jessica linger, though, to ask with barely hidden grins if you are really serious about Will.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," you tell them, and silently add, <i>So there's something to amuse you body-swapping witches.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your mind is awhirl the rest of the day, and your heart is in your throat when you text Will to tell him what you told your friends. <i>I told my friends too,</i> he replies. The rest of the evening you text him breathlessly, telling him things about Kelsey Blankenship that he knows very well, and he texts you back stories about Will Prescott that you also know. It's so much fun, pretending like you're getting to know each other, as a new boyfriend and girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Monday afternoon.</i> You're waiting for Will—who waited after school for you—when you get a text from him saying that something came up and he had to leave. You've just climbed into your BMW when you hear your name called. Marc Garner, looking very tan and healthy in his soccer clothes, comes jogging over. "Hey," he says as he leans in to talk to you through the car window. "I heard you and Will Prescott have started going out."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes." You give him a tight smile. "Maybe you and Hannah and me and Will could double date sometime."<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be awesome," he says. "I hope it's not just a short-term thing between you and Will." His head vanishes as he kneels to dig into his backpack.<br/>
<br/>
"I hope it's not a short-term thing either," you start to say, but you're interrupted by Marc, who rises again to shove something into your face. The world goes dark.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're sprawled on a truck bench when you wake, and you've a headache. <i>The fuck?</i> you wonder as you sit up.<br/>
<br/>
You're parked out front of the school, in the teacher's lot, in the cab of a pick up truck. It takes a moment for you to place yourself—it's your truck.<br/>
<br/>
And when you glance down you find that in you're in your clothes. Well, not the clothes you're used to wearing, but the jeans and denim shirt that your doppelganger has been going about in. In the footwell of the truck are a pair of dark boots, a wide-brimmed leather hat, and some suspenders.<br/>
<br/>
You jump up and gape into the rearview mirror. Your original face gazes back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Holy shit,</i> you murmur to yourself as you stroke your cheek. <i>I'm back!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Kelsey is in her BMW when you sprint over to check. She is looking as confused as you. After an awkward moment you embrace and hold each other.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323212231212223222331111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Bit That Comes After the Credits
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Things are awkward between you and Kelsey that afternoon—it's hard for you, at least, to look at her and think about the things that you did in her body—and you assume it's the same for her. Talk is stilted, even after you've gone to the Milagro Beanfield Warehouse to unwind in the back with some coffee. You have the sinking feeling that both of you are going to wind up slinking back into old habits and old ways. When Kelsey sighs and leans back in her booth, you can easily anticipate what she's going to say:<br/>
<br/>
<i>That was weird, Will, but it's over with. I think we should just forget it ever happened.</i><br/>
<br/>
And you, being Will Prescott again, will hang your head and go along with it. And maybe that would be for the best. It wasn't <i>you</i> being Will Prescott for the last week. Would it really be possible for you to carry on what Kelsey has started?<br/>
<br/>
But maybe you carried just a little bit of her back with you, because you get a hard, flinty feeling in your chest. "I'm not going to go back to the way things were," you tell her before she has the chance to pre-empty you.<br/>
<br/>
She looks up at you with querulous frown, and her eyes dart away. "What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean— Remember at the donut shop the other day? What if 'bang', we go back to normal? What would we want? Would we want to go back to the way things were, or keep the changes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm keeping the changes." You pluck at the shirt and touch the brim of your hat.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey stares at you, then smiles. "I'm glad. I told you, the look suits you."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright. And you know—" Your throat tightens. "You should make your own choices. You don't have to go along with what I did, what I was doing. What I told your friends, about them and about us. You can tell your friends that Saturday night, with me, was a mistake—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Will," Kelsey says in a very tight voice. "Why would I tell them that?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Because it was?</i> "Don't you think it was a mistake?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"So why do you look so miserable?"<br/>
<br/>
Twin tears roll down either side of her nose. "Because I was worried that <i>you'd</i> think it was!" she says. "A mistake."<br/>
<br/>
You can hardly believe that Kelsey would say that. Even in your new duds, you feel like a slacker. And Kelsey is so stylish. She even had Steve Patterson for a night! (Well, you did. She could have had him just as easily.) But she's worried that <i>you</i> would reject <i>her</i>?<br/>
<br/>
You stretch across the table to cover her hand with yours. She twitches her fingers around yours. <br/>
<br/>
"It was the hardest thing ever," you tell her, "trying to keep up with you. Trying to keep up pretending to be you, and trying to keep up with you pretending to be me. But I liked it."<br/>
<br/>
"I liked slowing down, when I was in your boots," she admits.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd like a faster life."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd like a slower one."<br/>
<br/>
"Meet you in the middle?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She smiles through eyes bleared with tears. "I was hoping that's what you'd ask."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So there it is. The next day, at school, you spend as much time talking to each other as possible, in class and at each other's lockers. In the cafeteria at lunch, Kelsey sits with her friends but down at the end of the table instead of the middle, with you beside her. There are no public displays of affection, save for some careful touching and discreet smooching. She sees less of her friends, save for her Saturday night parties, which you are invited to. At first you are daunted a little by the coldness shown by Mansfield and the other guys, but you quickly decide to let them fuck themselves, and spend most of those nights on a sofa, curled up with Kelsey, relaxing and sharing a couple of bowls.<br/>
<br/>
You also start to work out more. It feels good.<br/>
<br/>
And those body-swapping witches? Maybe Eva and Jessica had something to do with it, and maybe they didn't. Maybe it wasn't even them, because a week or so after you and Kelsey return to normal, they suddenly become very grumpy and start acting like a couple of fumble-footed amnesiacs. You and Kelsey talk about asking them if something funny happened to them, but decide not to. Things have worked out, and it seems best not to rock the boat you have found yourselves in.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232123
author_id: rugal
title: Getting To Know Who
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Passing on a curse? Oh that certainly sounds appealing and you can certainly think of a good number of people who you wouldn't mind seeing getting the good end of a bad one... if they were actually real. But curses, of course, are complete nonsense. Most likely this is some bit of spam or some other pointless nonsense and so you're inclined to blow it off, especially given that it's a link directing you towards x2z, the lowest circle of the Hell that is social media.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe it's <i>because</i> x2z is such a cesspool that curiosity takes hold of you for a moment and you find yourself clicking the link for the hell of it. You kind of want to see just how dumb this whole thing is. You see that it's a thread started by Cindy Vredenburg that simply reads <i>Tag! You're Cursed! Pass It On!</i> before tagging Jessica Garner. After seeing the list of people tagged you quickly realize that this is really just like some kind of dumb chain letter and decide to not actually respond.<br/>
<br/>
But not before you take a screenshot and send it to Eva, one of the people "cursed" in the thread, with an accompanying message: <i>The hell is this????</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>O jus a fun game, u shld tag sum1,</i> she replies.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Dont wanna. Seems lame,</i> you grouse.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Lol maybe,</i> she replies but says nothing else. You're worried that you probably sounded ruded and pissed her off and are about to send her an apology when, a few minutes later, she texts you back. <i>Srry bout wut happen @ meghans.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Its fine,</i> you text back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Heard that mia &amp; rachel gave u attude tonite?</i><br/>
<br/>
That's surprising; how'd she hear about that? You decide to ask her as much.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Keith told carlos n carlos told me n jess.</i> You probably should have figured as much so you're not actually all that surprised once you hear the answer. It's the follow up that really surprises you. <i>Ur luck w/ girls isnt so hot lol! Maybe they dont kno bout u?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>I dont kno anything about them too.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Would u want to? Or any girls u want to kno more?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Whats that mean??</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Lol wut i said. Was thinkin bout help u brk out of ur shell.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Like intro me to a girl?!?!?!?!</i> you ask in shock.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yea! Any1 ur intrsted in? Jus give a name!</i><br/>
<br/>
You really are surprised that Eva -- and maybe her sister too -- has taken such a keen interest in helping you spread your wings. Almost like she's kind of taken you in as a project. In a way that's annoying because it makes you wonder if she's just taking you for a ride or being condescending over the times you've bugged her about Lisa. The thought of it makes you half-tempted to text back her or Jessica's names just to see how she'd react.<br/>
<br/>
But you realize that's really pointless and so far you don't think you can glean any real alternate motives. Just that somehow you've landed on her radar. Maybe it goes back to the Lisa thing? Get you to break out and find a girl and maybe you'll stop bugging her about it?<br/>
<br/>
Well, that's a little condescending too but more benignly so and if she's offering to help...<br/>
<br/>
<i>Maybe but I dunno. Let me think?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Np jus shoot me a name wenever!</i><br/>
<br/>
She doesn't send anything after that so you take a bit of time to think. Of course there are girls you would love to get to know better but a lot of them, you realize, are likely out of your league. Even with Eva vouching for you, do you really expect that Lin, for example, would truly give you the time of day? No, probably not... but Michelle Estrich might. Oh sure, she's not exactly the most popular girl even while being a cheerleader but she's not a loser either and is plenty attractive herself.<br/>
<br/>
Yeah, shooting for the top of the pyramid is probably unreasonable but Eva's word will still be a key that'll open doors so as long as you set your sights a little more reasonably then maybe this could be the thing you'd need to help your confidence and wash the bad taste of the last couple of days out of your mouth. You've been sulking and moping way too much so maybe it's time to stop looking this gift horse in the mouth.<br/>
<br/>
So you spend some time thinking of girls you see regularly throughout the course of the day, in class and whatnot. Then you take to social media. Facebook, Instagram, even x2z. You look for groups and names that are connected to each other. You're not sure how long you spend studying everything you can find, getting a feel for various girls and their personalities as you try to get an idea of who might be viable. Who would, conceivably, be in "your league"?<br/>
<br/>
Finally satisfied and deciding not to scrape the bottom of the barrel with the likes of Abby Derr -- you simply recall one girl you saw in your research -- you settle on someone and send a name to Eva saying you wouldn't mind getting to know them this girl some more.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Gr8! Ill try to set sumthin up!</i> comes the reply.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sunday is, almost thankfully, a rather dull and uneventful day. Church, a few chores and then Keith shows up to hang out. You almost want to tell him about Eva offering to help introduce you to a girl but when you see that he's still a bit sore over the events of the previous night you decide that it would be better to not cast out particular line. Instead the two of you manage to find a less than legal copy of <i>Cravenmoor</i> and give it another watch so you can more properly write that paper for Hawks.<br/>
<br/>
It's not the best but you also, rather proudly, think that it's not too bad either.<br/>
<br/>
When Monday comes you brace for impact as you fully expect your incident at Megha's to be the talk of the halls. Yet, to your surprise, nothing seems to come of it. Kelsey simply ignores you in first period and neither does anyone in any of your classes or even between classes pull you aside to say something. Neither do you overhear anyone whispering and indeed nobody seems to cast extra attention your way.<br/>
<br/>
On one hand it's a relief and on the other it's a little disappointing. Only when you take lunch with James Lamont, Carson Ioeger and Jenny Ashton do they acknowledge what happened on Saturday and mostly it's through teasing from James and Carson, the dickheads. Jenny, thankfully, is much more diplomatic and even jumps in once or twice to try and shut her friends down though to little effect.<br/>
<br/>
But that's all you really hear about the incident until study hall. Curiosity, again, gets the better of you and you find yourself trawling social media looking to see if anything about it has come up. To your surprise you do see some conversations in a few places and to your joy you see that many find it funny. One comment seems to sum up the general sentiment: <i>Karma's a bitch but not as much of one as Kelsey</i>.<br/>
<br/>
Though your buzz is harshed when you find out that nobody really seems to know that it was <i>you</i> who spilled your drink on Kelsey so while you get to appreciate the cracks at her, you don't get the benefit of being recognized as the one who (inadvertantly) knocked her down a peg.<br/>
<br/>
So you're feeling a bit disappointing when Eva texts you to meet her out in the parking lot. That re-excites you but sadly that excitement is quickly dampened when Seth Javits and a few other guys intercept you and march you out to the Ag Annex and into a portable.<br/>
<br/>
"Your pal Tilley ran off," Javits says and you can almost hear the sneer in his voice, "so you're substituting for 'im."<br/>
<br/>
You barely have time to react when you see Seth's arm rush at your face and you black out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake up in a daze. Your head is spinning and your heart is pounding. What happened? Why are you in a gross, dark and dank portable? Why are you... naked? Instinctively you raise your hands to cover your... breasts? Wait, why do you have breasts? Well, duh, it's because you've had them since puberty. You reach down to where your dick in a panic only to find nothing there. Of <i>course</i> there's nothing there, why would there be? Girls don't have those, durr.<br/>
<br/>
But that's a weird thought to have because you are most definitely not a girl. Except, of course, you are a girl. You've always been a girl.<br/>
<br/>
You reach a hand to your forehead and groan in a voice that is both familiar and unfamiliar. It's like you've got two conflicting sets of memories, two personas, taking up space in your head. There's your memories, of course; the ones that belong to Will Prescott. But there's also another set too, one that feels as equally your own as the Prescott ones. Memories that belong to...<br/>
<br/>
With a gasp, it suddenly hits you whose memories these are. And if they're her memories then that must mean that this is her body, right? You dig through the clothes to find a cellphone. It's password protected but miraculously the passcode is front of mine and you're able to get in. You turn the camera on and make sure it faces you.<br/>
<br/>
There's old curtains over the window so you get near one and move it allowing some light in so you can better see what's on the screen. When you finally get a good look, you almost drop the phone in shock. It's the face of the girl you were set to meet up with today. It's the face belonging to...</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322
author_id: seuzz
title: Friendly Warnings
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"The Warehouse?" you squeak. "Yeah," you continue after wrenching your voice into a lower register. "I could probably, uh— Who all is going?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, the usual suspects," Eva says. "Me and Jessica. Marc and some of his friends." She rolls her eyes, but they light up when they come to rest on you again. "Cindy'll be there. She was asking specially if <i>you'd</i> come out!"<br/>
<br/>
That almost causes you to do a one-eighty. "So I guess Seth'll be there too?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs. "Maybe, but he won't be with <i>her.</i> It's a girls-night thing for us. Except we want <i>you</i> along." She giggles and pokes you in the shoulder, and a hard ripple of delight runs all up and down the left side of your body.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't resist that kind of invitation," you gasp. "Uh, so how are we going to, uh, meet up?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll talk Friday afternoon." Her dimples deepen. "We just didn't want you making plans first." She leans in close. "Oh, is there anyone special you want us to invite along too?"<br/>
<br/>
Your head spins, and you grab your locker door to keep from falling over. "You mean like, uh, Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
She titters. "No, you goose! Like, a girl? Someone you specially want us to make sure is there for you?"<br/>
<br/>
A blush rushes up from your neck and down from your scalp, and the two waves slosh together at the tip of your nose. "I haven't, uh ... "<br/>
<br/>
"Well, think about it, let me know. You have my contact info? Never mind, I'll get yours, I know who to ask." She brushes your shoulder with hers as she turns away, but she pauses to look back at you. "Come find me tomorrow third period, in the library. Or Jessica second period. Those are our study halls." She pushes back into the crowd, and such is the power of being a cheerleader that the students seem to part before her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Go write me some Harry Potter-Jabba the Hutt slash fic," Caleb sneers when you hook up with him later that afternoon. "It would be twice as believable and only half as sickening as this story about Eva inviting you out to the Warehouse."<br/>
<br/>
You're in his bedroom, sprawled on his bed while he slouches in the chair at his desk. You're usually at his place, not yours, when you hang out, because his mom works until five-thirty and so his house is usually empty. Today, though, you had Eva's invite as an extra incentive to race over to see him. You're not surprised that he's being skeptical, but it takes you a little aback at how surly he is. "What's your problem, dude? Why are you pissy just 'cos I—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, am I supposed to be <i>happy</i> for you?" he exclaims, then slumps deeper in his chair with a sour glare on his face. "Fuck, I guess I am. Congratulations, Will. You got a <i>cheerleader</i> to invite you out to—" He squirms. "But <i>why?</i>" he demands, and he pierces you with a hard look. "The way Cindy was acting at lunch ..."<br/>
<br/>
"I know it's funny," you groan, and turn onto your back. "But can't I be, like, happy for a little while before it all crashes down on me again?" You cover your face as your cock noses its way through the folds of your underthings, and you shiver all over. "Eva <i>never</i> talks to me like—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, just watch yourself," Caleb growls. "You say <i>Cindy</i> was asking specially about you?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what Eva said."<br/>
<br/>
"You better hope she was lying. She wouldn't be dating Javits if she had a problem with being <i>mean.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, did she say anything more at lunch about breaking up with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. God!" Caleb makes a face. "She kept going back and forth about what a loathsome piece of shit he is, and about the white-hot thrusting rod of steel he has for a cock."<br/>
<br/>
You gag. "So she's <i>not</i> breaking up with him."<br/>
<br/>
"She says she is."<br/>
<br/>
"Not if she's talking about him like that. She's just bragging about him." You sit up. "Maybe I <i>shouldn't</i> go out to the Warehouse, she'll have him along and—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you <i>are</i> going out there," Caleb says. "I am too."<br/>
<br/>
You look at him surprise. "You're not invited."<br/>
<br/>
"Who has to be invited?" he honks. "It's a free country. As long as you're in high school, you can get in. I just never wanted to go before," he primly declares.<br/>
<br/>
"And now you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Someone has to look after your shit, Prescott. You're such a child."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Thursday morning.</i> Your phone buzzes with a text as you're on your way to school, and you almost run a red light as you eagerly snatch it up in case it's one of the Garners. But it's Keith, and you drop it again like it's a tarantula. Not until you're parked in a far corner of the student parking lot do you read it: <i>bak behdn libary come find me.</i> You roll your eyes good and hard, but do as he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" you gasp as Tilley lunges at you once you're around the corner. "What's with the—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Johansson says you've started hanging out with those cunts," Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"What cunts?" You blink. "Oh, you mean Eva and Jessica? They're not—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly how dumb are you, Will?" Keith grips your arm.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your problem? So they invited me out to the Warehouse! That's all!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's all? I can just see <i>you</i> at the Warehouse! With them!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, so can I!" you retort, though your meaning is more or less the opposite of his. You wrench yourself away. "What's got into you and Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb?" Keith's eyes bulge. "Is he—?" But he cuts himself off.<br/>
<br/>
"Is Caleb what? Is he freaking out because—?" You straighten down your shirt and preen a little. "Is he freaking out because I got a couple of cheerleaders who've taken a shine to me?"<br/>
<br/>
"They don't give a shit about you, Will. Or maybe they do. But it's the wrong kind of shit!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're full of the wrong kind of shit!" You brush him back as he grabs at you again. "I'm going to the Warehouse tomorrow, and I don't care how fucking jealous you are!" But then you cock your head. "Caleb's going too. Wanna come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pah! Yeah, Caleb too," Keith sneers. "They'll do it to him next."<br/>
<br/>
"Do what?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith only puts a finger in your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Just watch yourself, asshole," he says. "I wouldn't get within two hundred yards of those bints, even if they was putting out. <i>Especially</i> if they was putting out!" <br/>
<br/>
He looks around, then hops away, and at a loping run disappears around the corner of A wing.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Tilley's always been a freak," Caleb tells you later while you're both waiting for Walberg's class to start. He's in a much better mood than he was yesterday, and chortles at the story you tell him of what Keith had to say. "But you can't really blame him. He's thinking about Seth."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd think Seth was his boyfriend, for all the attention Keith pays to him."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb snickers. "Well, you know what they say. Hate is just love turned upside down."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's all that gets said, and for the rest of the period you concentrate on something much more important: Who is the "special someone" that you should get Eva and Jessica to invite out to the Warehouse tomorrow night?<br/>
<br/>
It's a terrifying question, because if you interpret it right, Eva was asking who they wanted to set up for you as a date. The thought of having a date is terrifying enough, as is the thought of going to the Warehouse. The thought of having a date <i>at</i> the Warehouse is so bad that ...<br/>
<br/>
... Well, that it doesn't even register. The idea is so fantastical that it is unreal—it feels like an abstract hypothetical, so your heartbeat is slow and firm, and your brow cool, as you contemplate it. <i>Who do I want waiting for me at the Warehouse?</i><br/>
<br/>
You thought about it off and on last night in a rather diffident way by running through the names and faces of girls that you have in your classes, but your instincts have narrowed it down to two: Jamie Bornholm and Emma Witkin.<br/>
<br/>
You're not very pleased with either choice, but though you're not scared out of your wits neither are you under any illusions either. Much as you would love to find Andrea Varnsworth waiting for you at the Warehouse, no one's going to swing that kind of deal for you. But Emma or Jamie? Well ... maybe.<br/>
<br/>
But likely not in the case of Jamie. She's a swimmer, like Andrea, and is built to scuttle fast through the water, which makes her a little skinny and a little flat for your taste. Plus, she's got a face that has been unkindly compared to a seahorse. But she's far from bad looking—she has long, lovely blonde hair that hangs in flat sheets, and her skin is clear and her eyes are big and bright—and when you watch her in sixth-period math you're taken by her quick, darting motions and her ready laugh. She is good enough to be very desirable, but not so good that she bobs entirely out of reach (by your estimate).<br/>
<br/>
Emma seems a likelier candidate, though. You don't have her for any classes, but you've seen her lots of times in the library during your seventh-period study hall, and you've even talked to her. She's in the marching band, and she talks and acts like a ditz. Even looks like one, with her clouds of reddish hair that float in a nimbus around her head. It depresses you somewhat to think that a girl like that is probably at your speed; and is probably a little above it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So those are the names you offer Eva when you meet her in the library third period. She surprises you with a laugh. "Emma? You can do better than that!" She puts her chin in her hand. "How about Kristy Suffolk. I've noticed you hanging out with the girls' basketball team lately."</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223
author_id: seuzz
title: Dates Made and Dates Contemplated
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Kristy Suffolk?</i> Is Eva seriously suggesting that you could have a shot with <i>Kristy Suffolk?</i> The <i>basketball player?</i><br/>
<br/>
Kristy Suffolk is not as intimidating as Stephanie Wyatt—who is?—but it's hard to think of one without thinking of the other. The thought of putting the moves—<br/>
<br/>
Wait. Are you actually thinking of "putting the moves" on a girl?<br/>
<br/>
—on someone like Kristy is at best absurd and at worst terrifying. You can just picture her breaking your arm while Stephanie watches with smug approval.<br/>
<br/>
But then, somehow, the picture completely reverses. Instead of wondering how you can possibly dare an approach to Kristy, you are suddenly wondering why the hell you shouldn't dare? What's the worst that can happen?<br/>
<br/>
No, she's not going to break your arm. She plays on the <i>girls</i> varsity squad, not the <i>boys.</i> She's not a <i>thug.</i> And Stephanie has been surprisingly decent to you recently. Maybe she'll think you're shooting out of your league if she sees you running up and down the court with Kristy, but maybe she'll be impressed at your gumption.<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, it's not like Eva is pressing you to <i>ask her out.</i> She's only asking who you'd like to be sure of meeting at the Warehouse tomorrow night. And Kristy would definitely be the pot of gold at the end of some kind of rainbow.<br/>
<br/>
You retrieve your attention from these distant prospects to find Eva looking at you with evident amusement. "Yeah, I hadn't thought about Kristy," you announce with pretended surprise and feigned indifference. You recline in your seat. "I don't have her for any classes," you continue, as though to explain your lapse. (Actually, you have her next period, in English.) "It would be fun to run into her, hang out with her."<br/>
<br/>
"That's great, Will," Eva gushes as she picks up her cell phone. "I'll tell Jessica and Cindy, get them right on setting it up." She taps furiously at the screen. "I bet we won't have any trouble. Kristy loves to party."<br/>
<br/>
Your gullet freezes. The idea of "partying" is awesome, but you've not a lot of experience at it.<br/>
<br/>
Eva blinks at her phone, then holds it up and starts shifting it about while staring at the screen. It takes you a moment to realize she's looking at you through the camera, as though lining up a shot. "You trying to take a picture?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? No. Just ..." She bites down on a small smile, which widens after she's laid the camera back down on the table. "What are you doing this afternoon?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Hanging out with friends?" You snap your fingers. "I should talk to Michael and Carlos about that thing I promised them I'd—"<br/>
<br/>
"You should hang out with me and Jessica," Eva says, and she grasps your wrist with a smile. "Look at some new clothes for you, maybe do something about—" <br/>
<br/>
She sweeps your cap off your head and brushes at your stiff bangs. Your body goes <i>sprooiiinnnnggggg</i> all over.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I can't hang out with you after school," you tell Caleb when you slide into your desk next to him in English.<br/>
<br/>
He takes out his phone. "Thanks for the alert. I'll give myself a reminder to cry into my beer."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a dick. I'm just telling you. It's 'cos, um—" Would <i>you</i> be a dick if you told him what you'll be doing? You decide you don't care. "I'm going up to the mall with Eva and Jessica."<br/>
<br/>
His reply—"Well, that's cool"—surprises you until he adds the stinger: "They taking you up there for a stiff lemonade and a good talk about why Lisa dumped your ass?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pft. Lisa. I'm over her." But the wound still throbs. You salve it by turning in your seat to stare in the general direction of Kristy Suffolk.<br/>
<br/>
She's dressed in jeans and a turquoise windbreaker, but her tomato-red blouse has a plunging v-neck that shows the curve of firm, tanned breasts. Her hair—a coarse, dishwater blonde—is tucked back in a thick braid that hangs down between her shoulder blades. She has wide-set eyes under dark eyebrows, and they have a grave mien as she studies her cell phone. She tugs in an absent-minded way at her ear.<br/>
<br/>
<i>She's the kind of girl who should be dating a wrestler or a football player,</i> whispers the nasty internal voice that's always running you down. Retorts the bantam-rooster voice that too few times pipes up to argue back: <i>She's the girl </i>you're<i> going to be dating in a week, God damn it. Buy condoms tomorrow so you won't be caught out.</i><br/>
<br/>
You blush and turn back around, then start at the sight of who's in the doorway: Maria Vasquez and Chelsea Cooper.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea, thank God, is preoccupied with watching someone or something on the other side of the room, and whatever it is, it deeply amuses her, for she's quietly tittering and chortling behind the hand she has covering her mouth. She gasps and nudges Maria and says something like, "Oh my God!", then grabs her fellow cheerleader and yanks her from the door.<br/>
<br/>
But Maria was staring at <i>you,</i> with a hard and unwinking gaze. She's still staring at you as Chelsea pulls her back into the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, 'dja see that?" you whisiper at Caleb. "Chelsea and Maria, looking into the classroom. They were looking at <i>me!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you're pretty fucking unbelievable," Caleb retorts. "Every day I look at you and think 'What the fuck'. I mean, really. 'What the literal fuck'?" <br/>
<br/>
You flip him off, but he's already gone back to fiddling with his cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Jessica and Cindy don't appear at lunch again, as you'd more than half hoped they would, but Eva looks into the library at the start of seventh period long enough to tell you that you should meet her and her friends at Nirdlinger's at four-thirty after school. "And I think we're all set for Friday," she adds with a wink. "Kristy too." You have to get a drink of water after that, and your legs are as stiff and springy as pogo sticks as you hop down the hallway and back.<br/>
<br/>
In Astronomy, you almost go over to Stephanie to ask her about Kristy. But your innate cowardice—or maybe it's just good sense—prevails. When class is over, you sprint to your locker, then sprint to your truck, and gun the engine impatiently during the quarter-hour it takes you to snake your way out of the parking lot and onto Borman Avenue.<br/>
<br/>
You must be flummoxed by the afternoon's plans, for not until you're turning into the parking lot of Saratoga Falls's oldest and largest department store do you realize that you're more than ten minutes early for the rendezvous. The girls are not going to be there yet, and since they are <i>girls</i> after all they're more likely to be ten minutes late than ten minutes early, and more likely to be fifteen minutes late than to be on time. So you jack-rabbit back into the street and go up a couple of blocks to The Crystal Cave, one of the city's many notoriously avant-garde coffee shops, with the half-assed idea that you'll buy a lot of coffee and take it back to the girls. You're halfway to the door when you realize that would be very stupid—they're not going to let you bring drinks into the store—and turn around to drive back. That puts you in front of Nirdlinger's at four thirty-two, and to your immense surprise you find your three dates—as you've been preening over them in your mind—waiting for you just inside the door.<br/>
<br/>
And what a sight they are! <br/>
<br/>
Eva is in pink hot pants that wrap tightly around her butt and a midriff-baring one-piece shirt that barely restrains her boobs. Her blonde hair falls in loose ringlets about her shoulders, and her eyes and teeth flash as she laughs and gasps with the other girls. She is in flip flops, so that her strong, toned legs are bare practically from her crotch to her toes<br/>
<br/>
Her sister is dressed in a tight black leotard that shows bare, rock-hard calves between the knees and the tops of her tennis shoes, and which tightly hugs the curve of her hips, stomach, and bosom. She's covered it, though, with cut-off jeans shorts and a sloppy grey hoodie with the sleeves pulled up past her elbows. Her pixie bob glistens under the fluorescent lights, as though she's dusted it silvery glitter. Fat red plastic earrings the size and color of strawberries are locked onto her ear lobes.<br/>
<br/>
Delectable as the Garner sisters are, they still can't compare to Cindy Vredenburg. You can't stop your eyes from slowly raking her from the feet up: Bright white tennis shoes and ankle socks; creamy legs bare to the pleated miniskirt that only just drapes over her hips and the tops of her thighs; a powder-blue sleeveless blouse so tight that she looks like she was sewed into it, but open at the top to expose the tops of snowy white breasts; platinum hair that falls in shimmering sheets past her shoulders; a pie-pan face with high cheekbones and brilliant blue eyes surmounting a button-like nose. A ring glitters on her finger as she twiddles a lock of hair and laughs with her friends.<br/>
<br/>
Eva spots you, and with a squeal puts out her hand to beckon you over. "There he is!" For a moment you're nailed in place by your erection, but with a grinding of the gears you shuffle over to them.<br/>
<br/>
Eva and Jessica you can more or less look in the face. You dodge Cindy's gaze, but blush furiously when she says, "Nice to see you again, Will. I wish you'd stop running away when you see me. We could have a lot of fun together."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, stop teasing him," Eva says. "Can't you see you're embarrassing him?" That only causes you to blush more furiously. Your scalp is on fire, and your nose feels like it's going to start running. "So, uh, what are we doing?" you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll start you with some new clothes," Eva says, then she sweeps your cap off and runs both hands through your hair. "And we'll go from there."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231
author_id: seuzz
title: Your Makeover
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The afternoon that follows is one of gauzy impressions punctuated by one or two sharply etched incidents.<br/>
<br/>
In a dream-like haze you let Eva and Jessica and Cindy guide you through the men's department, where, alternately, they hold up shirts and sweatshirts to your torso while making cryptic comments about your "coloring" and your "geometry" and they tug at your cargo shorts and sloppy t-shirt while making critical comments about your "style." "You dress like you're still in middle school, Will," Jessica says with a tight-lipped smile. You have no reply to that, and docilely let them pick out clothes to try out.<br/>
<br/>
They're not shy about following you into the changing rooms, either, and Cindy and Jessica shut themselves up with you inside one of them while demanding that you strip to your boxers. You have to fight to stop yourself from covering your skinny torso with your skinny arms while they openly look you up and down. They're gentle with their comments, though, and Jessica says something about how "a good wrapping job" is all you need. They let you alone to change, though, when Eva hauls in the first batch of things to try on.<br/>
<br/>
T-shirts, you discover, are right out, except as undershirts for the button-down numbers they press on you. Some of these are dress shirts; others are heavy denim; most of them are a dusty rose or dark forest green, as those are what the girls have settled on as your "colors." They also bring you jeans and heavy trousers whose baggy legs that hide your skinny shanks. They bulk you up with undershirts topped with dress shirts, which can be overlaid with sweatshirts, which can be draped over with unbuttoned denim shirts.<br/>
<br/>
After fifty minutes of picking you out a basic ensemble, they begin augmenting it in various ways. First they bully you into ditching your belt for a rugged set of suspenders that, you have to admit, look good against the showy shirts they've put you in. In the shoe department they find you some dark brown hiking boots that put your crown an additional half-inch off the ground. They experiment with leather bracelets for one wrist, and a silver chain for the other. Ties—cable-knit in solid colors, not fancy silk dress—are picked out, and Jessica adds a silver bolo tie to the pile.<br/>
<br/>
It's nearing supper time and you're exhausted, but they still have plans for you. They put you in a chair and pull off your cap and brush your stiff hair out. You are eyed with purse-mouthed hauteur as Eva pulls your hair back and pushes it down in various ways as they try to decide what if any hair style could possibly work with your hair and the look they are trying to evolve for you. Tempers are beginning to fray—yours included—before Jessica snaps her fingers and tells everyone to wait while she runs off. She's gone for five minutes during which Cindy and Eva murmur unhappily; you have the sense that your stiff, straw-like hair may be the complete undoing of all that they have planned. You're sinking into your chair when Jessica runs back in with a couple of wide-brimmed hats. "Let's try these," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You're not thrilled. "A fedora?" you croak. "Aren't those, like, for losers with neck-beards?"<br/>
<br/>
"These aren't fedoras," Jessica snaps as she shoves one onto your head. "They're for outdoor wear. Besides, you need to start shaving. Every day, if you can remember." She steps back, and her frown blazes into a smile as she studies you. "There!" she exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy gasps and Eva squeals. "That's perfect! Oh, but the brim, don't you think it's a little—?"<br/>
<br/>
Jessica nods, and snatches it off to replace it with another, which brings coos of admiration from her friends. "Stand up," she tells you. "Straighten up. For fuck's sake, don't slouch, Will. You're looking really good. Come on." She grasps you by the wrist and pulls you over to a floor-length mirror.<br/>
<br/>
It's like a stranger staring back at you. A kid in rugged jeans and rugged boots, his soft, dusky denim shirt restrained by a pair of understated suspenders and set off by a tie the color of old roses. He's crowned with a leather hat that's shaped basically like a fedora but which exudes the tough, battered, character of a cowboy hat. It gives the scraggly hair that falls over his ears a scruffy charm that is more manly than boyish. As you study the reflection, it straightens up, lifting its chin, and a raffish smile twists its lips.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's genius, girl," Cindy says. "Get the other things, let's see how he—" Eva and Jessica scamper away and return with ties and sweatshirts and the other accouterments, including a soft leather bomber jacket that you couldn't help shrinking from when they put it on you earlier. Now, when you put it on— <br/>
<br/>
Well, you look like Indiana Jones's scrawniest grandson, but you still feel yourself blossoming inside it. And when Eva sweeps the hat off and sets your old cap back on you, you cringe. "Yeah," she chortles. "You don't ever want to wear <i>that</i> again, do you?" She knocks it to the floor and puts the leather hat back on you.<br/>
<br/>
"Here!" Cindy thrusts a cell phone at you, so that you can look at the screen and your reflection in the mirror, side by side. The phone shows a photo that she surreptitiously took of you in your old togs, and you flinch to recognize the aptness of Jessica's remark that you dress like you're still in middle school. The awkward, gangly, rabbity scarecrow on the phone looks like a retarded goof next to the young man in the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But how are you to pay for these new things, since you are now too embarrassed to be caught in your old ones? "It's our treat," Eva says when you mumble a guarded comment about how much a new wardrobe would cost. "Between the five of us, we got you covered."<br/>
<br/>
"The five of you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Two silent partners," Jessica adds smoothly. "Don't worry about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Technically, there's ten of us," Cindy says, but Jessica hushes her with a gesture.<br/>
<br/>
"But how do I explain it to my parents?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a school project," Cindy says. She grins. "Give a guy a makeover, that was the assignment. Wasn't it?" she looks around, and the Garner girls hurriedly agree. "We'll get together tomorrow after school for a photo shoot. Before and after pictures. So bring your old stuff and the new stuff with you to school."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean I'm taking the new stuff home now?"<br/>
<br/>
She smiles. "Don't be a dumbass, Will."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You do insist on changing into your old things before going home, but your parents are already at the dinner table when you get home—your dad looks steamed at your tardiness—and you have to lug four bulging bags of dry goods past them. "I got some stuff to show you after supper," you tell them when you're back at the table and have fallen onto the victuals. You give them the very lame-sounding story about a bunch of girls buying you a whole new wardrobe as part of a "class project." Your astonished parents question you closely, but you can only shrug and flail and answer that it is as much a shock to you as it is to them. Afterwards, you show the clothes to your mom and dad—and your brother, who insists on peering into your bedroom over their shoulders—and change into some of them.<br/>
<br/>
Putting yourself into the new duds turns the trick. Your mom had been as skeptical as your dad—who is nearly apoplectic at the story you've told—until she sees you in them, whereupon she firmly tells him that you will be keeping the new things. "We'll pay the girls back for them," she tells you gently, and inquires after the receipts. When you tell her that the girls still have them, she informs you that you<i>must</i> retrieve them, and your dad growls that he wants to talk to these girls to ask them about this "class project." He and your mom have some kind of talk out of sight, for he comes to you later and in a mumbled, shame-faced way tells you that he's glad you've got some new clothes and he'll be really happy to see you in them. "I just want to know about this 'project'," he insists.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're awake early the next morning with a the fluttery feeling in your stomach like you get when it's Christmas. You take a good long time in the shower getting extra clean, and you carefully shave away the fifty or so stiff hairs you have growing out of your chin, jaw, upper lip and left cheek. In your bedroom you try on three combinations of clothes before settling on a denim shirt and heavy cotton trousers, a green cable-knit tie, and the bomber jacket and hat. Your brother stares at you with open-mouthed astonishment when you come down for breakfast. Your mom and dad also look you up and down like you're a stylish stranger who has moved into their house. "Don't forget to get the receipts," your mom tells you.<br/>
<br/>
You turn the radio to a classic rock station and drive out to school with one hand on the wheel and the other splayed across the bench of your truck. You feel three inches taller after you've dismounted in the student parking lot, and instead of scurrying toward class you saunter slowly toward the gym with your shoulders back and your chin high.<br/>
<br/>
Do clothes make the man? You've a feeling that today you're going to find out.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311
author_id: seuzz
title: A Fashionable Foot Forward
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You got up early, but you lingered long over the clothes, so you're actually later getting to school than usual. So it's in Walberg's classroom that you get your first glimmer of how the day is going to go. Caleb is already there, slouched in his seat and tapping at a game on his cell phone. Your lips twitch at the sight of his dorky button-down shirt and brown pants and ratty tennis shoes. You slide into your own seat and lean back to stare at him over a lifted nose.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a quick, sidelong glance, which turns into a slow double-take as he frowns at the stranger who has dropped into your usual seat. It takes him an almost comically long time for him to register that it's you.<br/>
<br/>
When he does recognize you, he half-jumps from his seat. "Jesus! Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey." You chuck your chin at him. "What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?" he squeaks. "What happened to—? Where—?" He flicks a feebly hooked finger at you. "What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's what? My new clothes? Toldja yesterday." You can't help grinning. "Eva and Jessica took me shopping, gave me a makeover. Oh, and Cindy was there too."<br/>
<br/>
"Vredenburg?" he asks in a choked screech.<br/>
<br/>
"Word. You should'a come. Maybe they could'a done something for you too."<br/>
<br/>
He swallows. "Is this, like—?" He frowns as he looks you up and down, but there's no missing the surprised admiration in his eyes. "Is this what you're gonna look like from now on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah." You resettle that leather fedora on your head. "New year, new me."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb turns green.<br/>
<br/>
You turn around in your seat and settle back to study the rest of the room. First thing you notice is Kelsey Blankenship, who staring at you from the front row. She doesn't look happy. In fact, she looks distinctly angry. Her eyes narrow as you return her glare with a calm stare of your own, and she leans forward to hiss at her witch-like best friend, Amanda Ferguson. Amanda turns a cold frown on you, then with a curled lip turns back to hiss back at Kelsey. The class's queen bee scowls at you and turns back toward the front.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe Martin Gardinhire is staring at you from behind those cheap sunglasses he never takes off, or maybe he's just grooving to his own private, snobby thoughts. But Anthony Kirk smiles at you and gives you a small thumbs' up. "Lookin' good there, Prescott," he says. You smile and give him a thumbs' up back.<br/>
<br/>
But that's nothing on the compliment you get when Lisa and Geoff come in. They're slow to notice you, and it's not until Martin leans over to mutter at Lisa that she turns to look at you. Her mouth falls open a little, and after a flustered consultation with Martin she comes over to beam down at you. "Hey Will," she says in a voice as soft as crumpled rose petals. "How are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Doing great. How are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine. You're looking really good."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks. So are you." <i>You heartless cow. Eat me, now that you won't have me.</i><br/>
<br/>
She dimples a soft smile back at you and returns to her seat. You shift your smile onto Mansfield, who is staring at you with a slack jaw. He shuts it and, with a dark look, swings around in his desk.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Second period.</i> "Christ, what happened to you?" Keith exclaims as you settle into the desk in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
"I went out with Eva and Jessica and Cindy yesterday," you tell him. "They gave me a makeover."<br/>
<br/>
His face falls. "Christ. It's even worse than I thought!"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck? What's got your dick in a wringer?"<br/>
<br/>
He grips your shoulder with bony fingers. "They're setting you up, Will! Wake up to the facts!"<br/>
<br/>
You knock his hand away. "Set me up for what, you dumbass? Anyway, if this is them setting me up, they can set up for whatever they want."<br/>
<br/>
"Pthbt! Fuck you then," Keith growls. "You'll just have to find out the hard way, and then I'll be fucking laughing at your sorry ass."<br/>
<br/>
But you're too pleased with the looks some of the girls are giving you to care about his dorky, jealous paranoia.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Fourth period.</i> Carlos comes over to talk before class starts. "So, you ever gonna come back out to the studio?" he asks. "Record a thing for us?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod, but keep your body language casual. "Yeah, I think I'd like to."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool." He holds out his arms and splays his fingers as though to frame your head in a viewfinder. He frowns. "Yeah, you'd look good. We could use someone with a sense of a style. Oh, that reminds me," he adds. "Work up something good to say, so we're sure to want you. Cindy Vredenburg's joining our YouTube crew. You'll wanna guest host with her on some of our videos, won't you?"<br/>
<br/>
You fight down a quick gulp of excitement. "Yeah, that'd be great!"<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "Thought you'd be interested. She was asking specially for you." He lopes back to his seat.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb leans forward to stare into your face once you've turned back around. "What?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just trying to figure out if it's really <i>you</i> back in there," he says. "Or if it's some new asshole who's stolen your face and identity."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You want to be seen in public, so you insist on eating out front with Jenny and Carson and James. Caleb accompanies you, but Keith begs off, which is fine with you, because he seems to be sinking into deeper and deeper mires of resentment and paranoia.<br/>
<br/>
"Whew!" Carson whistles as you approach. "It's Indiana Prescott! You trying out your Halloween costume early?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, this is my new look," you reply as you settle onto the grass. "Some girls took me shopping yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"No fucking way," he chortles. "Here, lemme see that." He grabs for your hat, but you dodge away. "Oh come on, man. I wanna see if I should get me one!"<br/>
<br/>
"You already got that dumb bandana," you retort. "And if I catch you pinching my style, I'll kick your ass."<br/>
<br/>
"Who were the girls?" Jenny asks. She nods thoughtfully when you tell her it was the Garners and Cindy Vredenburg. "They said something about taking you shopping. Stand up for me, will you?" You oblige, and her eyes light up. "They did a really good job. You look great, Will." You flatter yourself that her admiring tone is tinged with just a drop of lust. "Doesn't he look great, guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he could almost pass for human," James replies, but his face crinkles into a warm smile. And when he combs long fingers through his thick hair, you can tell he's wondering if maybe he should look for a hat like Jessica found for you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's the last of the excitement for the day until Astronomy. The novelty of the experience has worn off sufficiently that you go straight to your seat with your customary "last period of the day" sigh, and don't look around until you hear someone calling your name. You look back, and find that it's Stephanie. She's half out of her seat and looking you up and down with open astonishment. "Looking sharp there, Prescott," she calls over to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks!"<br/>
<br/>
"You going over to Anita's tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Got plans to meet people at the Warehouse!"<br/>
<br/>
"Cool!" she calls back. "Have fun!"<br/>
<br/>
You nod at her, and try not to notice the snigger that Jamie Rennerhoff has loosed in your direction.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The "before and after" photo session that Eva and the girls scheduled for after school turns into something more like a fashion shoot. The girls start by standing you against the wall of the school, but they quickly escalate into staged poses: you slouching at the foot of a wall looking cool and bored; you leaning against a car while gazing thoughtfully into the distance; you braced in a doorway with your best approximation of a come-hither smirk; a close-up of you and Eva grinning into the lens like you're taking a selfie. You move into the library to take pictures of you and Jessica sitting cheek-by-cheek at a table; a posed shot of you in the stacks frowning into a book. "They all look like they're taken the same day," Jessica complains, and she bullies you into returning home to return with <i>all</i> the clothes they bought you, and until the building closes at five-thirty they harass you into changing tops and bottoms and ties and jackets while staging poses designed to look like dozens of selfies taken over several days, or scores of "candid" shot stolen of you between or during class. They even summon friends and acquaintances—Yumi Saito and Lin Pol; and Hollister and Montoya and their friends Josiah Shank and Philip Fairfax—to work as extras or to pose in the intimate selfies. The presence of the guys embarrasses you somewhat, but they seem unimpressed—slightly bored, even—by the fuss that's being made over you, and just docilely play along with what the girls ask of them.<br/>
<br/>
It must be the price they're willing to pay to get cheerleaders to help out with their videos. They even follow when the company moves en masse to stage some shoots at the nearby Mellon Village Shopping Center and its adjoining fast food and sandwich shops.<br/>
<br/>
Lin and Yumi are more bemused by the attention you're getting, and as things are winding down Yumi sidles up to ask you, in a low voice, "What's the story behind all this, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Story behind what?"<br/>
<br/>
"This." She gestures with a sweep of her arm. "All the attention they're giving you."<br/>
<br/>
The question instantly reminds you of Keith's dark, paranoid whisperings.<br/>
<br/>
You're about to ask Yumi if she'll have dinner with you, so you can discreetly ask what <i>she</i> thinks of all this, when Cindy waves at you. "You coming, Will? Eva and I want to take you to dinner!"</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Same Question, Over and Over
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'm gonna get something eat with Yumi," you shout back at Cindy, and you shoot Yumi a quick, querying look. She shrugs. "What's the plan for meeting at the Warehouse?" you ask the other girls.<br/>
<br/>
Jessica answers. "We'll send you a text about meeting and picking you up. You got plenty of time," she adds, "things won't even come close to getting started till ten at least." She falls in with the other two girls, to study the photos that they've taken, and to giggle over them. It only reinforces your desire to get Yumi's read on things.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Lin tags along too, and you settle in at Panera. Lin snags your new hat after you're seated and takes a selfie of herself in it, then pulls you in to take a selfie of you both before she returns it to you. You grin at her. "You like my hat."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a good look for you," she says. She looks you up and down. Her expression is more curious than critical, and you have the impression that she's updating and recalculating her opinion of you. "How'd you pick it out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jessica found it. Her and Eva and Cindy helped me pick out all of my new stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"How did this happen, Will?" Yumi asks. Her expression is more disbelieving than Lin's, maybe because she's known you longer and better than any of the other cheerleaders—which admittedly isn't saying much.<br/>
<br/>
You're actually at a bit of a loss yourself to remember how it all started. "It just sort of snowballed, I think," then fall silent again as a waitress drops a sandwich in front of you and a couple of salads in front of the girls. "They invited me out the Warehouse, and then they asked me to meet them at Nirdlinger's." It all happened so quickly and in such a chaos that you can't put your finger exactly on where and how it evolved into a "makeover."<br/>
<br/>
"Have you ever been to the Warehouse?" Lin asks. Her fork hovers over her salad bowl as she asks it. "You know the kind of thing that goes on there, don't you?" she asks when you shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
"There's dancing and music and stuff, right? Bands playing?"<br/>
<br/>
"And drinking, and pot, and fistfights and knife-fights—"<br/>
<br/>
"There aren't any knife-fights, Lin," Yumi says. "They have guys out there to stop it."<br/>
<br/>
"It's because of the knife fights that they have guys out there to stop them," Lin retorts. "And there's the rooms upstairs where people, well—" She compresses her lips in a disapproving way.<br/>
<br/>
"Basically, it's like the portables at school," Yumi says. "It's the same kind of people who hang out there, mostly. Only they're drunk and high and blasted out of their skulls on music and adrenaline, and there's no teachers or security or anything."<br/>
<br/>
You don't like her implication that you can't handle that kind of scene. "You've been out there, it sounds like," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but with the kind of guys who can take care of us."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm not going out there by myself," you retort before you can come up with a less embarrassing string of words. <br/>
<br/>
Yumi shrugs, as though to say <i>It's your funeral,</i> but Lin says, "That's true. Seth'll be along, you know."<br/>
<br/>
A lump of ice settles in your stomach. "I thought he and Cindy broke up."<br/>
<br/>
Lin and Yumi exchange a glance. "We don't know <i>what's</i> going on with them," Yumi says.<br/>
<br/>
"So give me some gossip," you say. Not that you're fascinated, but you'd rather talk about who's dating who and who's breaking up with who than to listen to her complain that you're not man enough to go to the Warehouse.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Talk about their girlfriends takes up the rest of the dinner hour. Mostly it centers on Cindy, who is whipsawing between sticky makeout sessions with Seth and screechy, window-shattering fights with him. The consensus theory seems to be that she's trying to keep from losing herself in her relationship with him. "She wants his babies," Lin says. "She wants his babies and she wants to marry and move in with him. But she also doesn't. So she's trying to push him away <i>and</i> tie herself to him, at the same time." <br/>
<br/>
"Sucks to be him," Yumi says. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Sucks to be anywhere around him</i> would be your opinion.<br/>
<br/>
The topic of the Warehouse does return, though, when Yumi asks if you have a curfew. "Things don't even start until ten or eleven," she says, "and it'll be morning before they start winding down." You're unsure how to handle it until Lin suggests that you arrange to "sleep over" with a friend.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you try Caleb, and that seems to work until he throws a wrench in your plans. "Sure," he tells you when you call him. "But you have to give me an alibi too. Because I'm going with you, remember?"<br/>
<br/>
You had forgotten that he'd threatened to go along too. "How are you getting out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Same as you. Driving. Wanna go together?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm getting a ride with someone."<br/>
<br/>
"So can I get a ride with them too?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll have to ask," you sigh, and you text Eva. <i>can we take caleb too?</i><br/>
<br/>
Her reply is long in coming, but flattering. <i>ok but we want you to ourselves.</i> She tells you to be parked in back of Eastman High School by ten, where you will be picked up for a carpool.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm spending the night with Caleb," you tell your folks as you run through the living room. "See you in the morning."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll call later to check how you're doing," your dad says, and his warning almost causes you to lose all bowel function. All the way out to Caleb's—for you've arranged to pick him up at his house—you try to figure out some way to defeat or fool your dad. If he hears anything remotely resembling a party when he calls you, he'll know you were lying to him.<br/>
<br/>
"So maybe we should just go back to my house," Caleb says after you've picked him up and explained the problem. "You really don't have any business going to the Warehouse anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Neither do you," you retort. "Less than me. I got invited."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and I notice I didn't." Even in the dark you can read the quick, dirty look he gives you. "Fuck, maybe you should drop me off at Ioeger's."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, maybe I should."<br/>
<br/>
"No you shouldn't." He twists around in his seat to stare at you directly. "How did Eva and Jessica even get the idea to invite you out with them?"<br/>
<br/>
You grit your teeth at the presumption behind the question. "Ask them."<br/>
<br/>
"Were you talking to them about Lisa again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up about Lisa! I told you, I'm over her."<br/>
<br/>
"But were you talking with them about her, and then they—?"<br/>
<br/>
"They just asked me out of the blue! Okay? Which is totally awesome," you continue, "and why are you trying to make it sound like a crime against nature?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because it is. No, wait, forget I said that, I didn't mean it."<br/>
<br/>
"So what did you mean, cocksucker?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just forget it." He slumps in his seat. "I guess I should just be happy for you."<br/>
<br/>
You don't know what to say to that, for in truth you don't know why they're paying any attention to you at all. You tell Caleb as much. "Glad to hear you're as freaked out about it as I am," he grumbles in reply.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The rest of the drive passes mostly in silence, and so does the wait in the parking lot of Eastman High School. You're surprised by the number cars that are parked at the school, until you see a crowd of school kids at one of the lot and deduce this must be a regular drop off and pick up point for the Warehouse, which is only a mile away. You and Caleb keep to yourselves though, and it's not until you hear your names being shouted that you realize your ride has come.<br/>
<br/>
They're calling from an SUV that pulled into the lot while you were waiting. Shadowy figures wave, and not until you're close do you recognize Eva and Jessica. "Oh God, Will, you look great," one of them gushes, and they both brush your shirt and snap your suspenders playfully. "You're not going to lose your hat, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb snorts. "He's probably going to lose his head."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, hi Caleb," Jessica sniffs. "So you showed up too. Are we going to be able to squeeze you in?" She puts her head into the minivan, from the inside of which comes the sound of girls shrieking and laughing.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll just have to fold yourself up," Eva says, and she pushes him toward the back. She pops the rear door, and someone falls out with a cuss word.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, Will." Jessica grabs your hand and pulls you to the back seat. "You get in there. Mindy! You're going to have to lay on top of people!"<br/>
<br/>
"As long as it's a cute guy, I don't care!" a girl shrieks back. Jessica pushes you into the back seat, and you have to brush your way past flailing limbs until you've squeezed in and Jessica has shut the door on you. A girls plops into your lap and puts her face in yours. "Hi, who are you?" she chirps.<br/>
<br/>
"Will. Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"Hi! It's me, Mindy! McAdams!" She giggles. "What's that on your head?" She lifts your hat off.<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone inside?" someone yells from the front seat.<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on!" The yell is followed by a loud shriek, and someone bumps the back of your head. A door slams. "Okay, I think we're packed in!"<br/>
<br/>
"Where'd you get the hat?" Mindy asks, but you're too confused and dizzy to answer. "I think we can fit three more girls back here!" a baritone voice shouts from behind you.<br/>
<br/>
"God damn it!" the driver roars, "we already got too many!"<br/>
<br/>
"So make Seth walk!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Seth?</i> As in <i>Javits?</i></span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Dance Floor
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Despite—or maybe because—the SUV is so crowded, it's a fun ride out to the Warehouse. Sure, you're squeezed into the back seat with Cindy Vredenburg and her psycho boyfriend Seth Javits, but he's on the other side of the cabin from you, and you've got Mindy McAdams cuddling up against your chest with her arms around your shoulders. And though the space behind you echoes with shrieks and screams, someone is playing with your hair, smoothing it out with long fingers while Mindy plays with your hat.<br/>
<br/>
It's too loud to think, let alone talk, especially after someone turns the radio on, all the way up to eleven, and blasts the urban nightscape after rolling down the windows so you can enjoy the sound of traffic as well. You can't see where you're going, and not until the SUV stops and someone shines a harsh flashlight in your face do you deduce that you've reached your destination. The car goes into motion again, briefly, until the windows go up and the motor and the radio both die. "Lemme out of this fucking tin can!" someone hollers in the darkness behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You clamber out into a crowded parking under acrid mercury vapor lights. The sky is an oblivious black, and the walls of the nearby buildings look like stage flats: half-illumined blanks of brick and eyeless windows. A growling bassline beats at the air, and when you twist around you spot your destination: a three-story warehouse with open double doors out of which spills a harsh white light. Someone grabs your shoulder as you stare, and you help Mindy out. She slaps your hat back on your head and pulls you close to murmur in your ear: "First dance with me?" You can only nod your head, for your voice dies in your throat.<br/>
<br/>
Hoots, whistles and cheers rocket into the air as your company gathers at the rear bumper of the SUV. The driver, you now see, was Marc Garner, Eva and Jessica's brother. He's dressed in Levis and a soccer jersey, and his spiky blonde hair gleams with gel. His eyes glint as he grins at you, and he raises his hand to give you a high five, which you return. "First time here?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you confess.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll have fun." He turns as a girl draws up beside him. She's tall, with a leonine mane of hair. "You know Hannah? This is Will," he continues without waiting for you to answer. "Will, Hannah." You put out your hand, but she puts hers on Marc, and goes onto her toes to bite his ear. He laughs, and pulls her off to the side.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, Will," Caleb mutters in your ear.<br/>
<br/>
You jump. "Why are you so grumpy?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was like a sardine can back there."<br/>
<br/>
"How bad could it be," you retort, "when Eva and Jessica were two of the sardines?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, there was a guy back there, too." He must be complaining about the tall guy in front of you, who has his arm around a girl's shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
Before Caleb can resume his plaint, Eva grabs you by the wrist and pulls you over. "Will, this is Tina," she says, introducing you to the girl. "She goes to Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Will," the girl says. Her voice is soft, and so is her southern lilt; a nimbus of blonde hair floats about her head. She cocks her head, then glances at Eva. "Is he—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is he what?</i> you want to ask, but you've lost your voice again after Tina brushes the front of your shirt with her fingertips. "Let's get y'all in the light," she says, and she puts her arm in yours even as her guy pulls himself closer to her. You avoid looking at him. You do catch Caleb's face, and his frown, though.<br/>
<br/>
By some unspoken agreement your group of ... <i>Eleven? Were there really that many squeezed into the SUV?</i> ... moves toward the doors. You and Caleb hang back, though, for Javits and Cindy—arms around each other's waists—are at the front of the crowd. Jessica notices you, though, and falls back in stride with you. "Don't get lost, Will," she laughs.<br/>
<br/>
The thumping beat grows louder, and something about it bothers you more than just the noise. It's not until your hand brushes your pocket, and the cell phone you're carrying there, that you remember the danger you're walking into. "Are there any quiet places inside?" you ask Jessica, and you have to put your mouth to her ear so she can her you.<br/>
<br/>
"Ar-you-eff-kay-em?" she shouts back.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I got a problem!"<br/>
<br/>
"With loud noises?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't answer, for there's a gauntlet to run at the doors—four meaty guys in red t-shirts with lanyards around their necks. You recognize two of them—Erik Carstairs and Joshua Call—and you dodge their eyes even though no one challenges your group. Once you're inside, though, you pull Jessica closer. "My dad's gonna try calling me later, to check up on me!"<br/>
<br/>
"So?"<br/>
<br/>
"So I told him I was at Caleb's! If he hears this noise, he'll know I was lying!"<br/>
<br/>
"Come over here," Jessica says, and pulls you to the side of a wide lobby. But she doesn't say anything for a few minutes as, with darting eyes, she thinks through your problem. "Oh, I know!" she finally exclaims. "Gimme your phone!"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind! It's an old trick Eva and I use!" <br/>
<br/>
Reluctantly, you hand your cell over. "You're not gonna just hide in your SUV, are you?" you ask. "'Cos that won't fool my dad!"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry about it!" She takes out her own phone. "I just need to call someone! Go on inside!" She pushes you toward Caleb, who is lingering nearby, then bends over her phone as her thumbs fly over the screen.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that about?" Caleb asks. You only shrug.<br/>
<br/>
The entranceway opens out into a larger lobby area. To the left is a tall set of open double doors, out of which the driving music thunders in concussive waves. You peek inside. The floor is dark, and there aren't a lot of people dancing in it, but along the far wall is a dimly lit stage, atop which gyrate three guitar players.<br/>
<br/>
But Marc and the others have gone through another set of doors, into a room against the walls of which makeshift refreshment bars—sheets of plywood atop sawhorses—have been set up with coolers beneath and behind. Half a dozen teenage bartenders are taking money and handing over bottles of beer. One guy is handing a customer a hand-rolled joint.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you bring any cash?" Caleb asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Five bucks," you reply. But it turns out your money is as worthless here as it was at Nirdlinger's, for Eva insists on paying for you. She won't pay for Caleb, though, and he glowers as he reluctantly exchanges a couple of bills for a beer of his own. And he watches sourly as Eva positions you next to the bar and takes a picture of you on her phone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And that more or less sets the pattern for the first hour of the night. Your company sprawls around a warped table on some saggy booths that look like they were rescued from a burned-out restaurant. You're squeezed in between Eva and Jessica, who insist on getting you to talk with that Tina girl, and they pose with you for the pictures that Tina takes. Mindy—a pretty girl who has never paid much attention to you—watches with bright-eyed fascination as you try to make yourself sound interesting. "I just hang out," you have to shrug when Tina asks what you like to do. "Being stylish?" she asks, and takes another picture.<br/>
<br/>
Mindy does get her first dance with you on the still-uncrowded floor, but it doesn't last long because you're not very good. Jessica intercedes and pulls you into a corner, where she shows you where to put your hands on her hips and how to rock your hips back and forth in a solid, swinging rhythm. "Just do that," she says as she pushes your hands off her, "then add little things on top." She adds some snaky moves with her arms, and darts her head around. "Simple downstairs, complicated upstairs," she says. You imitate her, and find it surprisingly easy to do. "Now go find someone," she says, and settles your new hat more firmly on your head and brushes down your shirt front.<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, Will. Anyone. You'll do fine."<br/>
<br/>
And so you do, moving from one free-floating girl to another. You're struck by the fact that in every case you move off the girl before she moves away from you, and that several times a girl will swing in to push one of your partners away so that she can take over.<br/>
<br/>
But it's pretty exhausting, and you're about to give up when Eva sidles up, puts her arm in yours, and turns you toward the door. "Look who we brought for you," she shouts in your ear.<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to figure out who she's point toward, for the crowd has been growing thicker.<br/>
<br/>
It's Kristy Suffolk.<br/>
<br/>
She's dressed down in jeans and a windbreaker, and though she's not dancing she is swaying slightly as she scans the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
"Go up to her!" Eva's mouth is right at your ear. "Don't talk! Just pull in her in and dance with her!"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart is like a jackhammer in your chest, and the sway in your step has more to do with the water in your legs than the beat in your feet as you approach her. She does a little double take at you, and smiles. But she's still looking past your ear.<br/>
<br/>
Your inner dance almost stalls out.<br/>
<br/>
Then a sharp fingernail races up your back. Your confidence—how weird it is to feel <i>confidence!</i>—races to life again.<br/>
<br/>
You put your hands on Kristy's hips, as Jessica showed you, and pull her toward you as you dance.<br/>
<br/>
For only a moment she holds back.<br/>
<br/>
Then she's dancing with you.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Afterglow
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You dance with Kristy Suffolk. The rest of the night passes like a hallucination.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't dance long with Kristy—maybe two minutes; or maybe two hours, for time has a way of leaping and then crawling inside the Warehouse—before Jessica pulls you away and keeps you to herself awhile before passing you on to other girls. You drift back to the booth where Marc still holds court, and collapse next to a grinning Hispanic kid who steals and plays with your hat until Marc makes him give it back. You slam a couple of beers in quick succession. You are swept back onto the dance floor, and there are Jell-O shots, and someone tries taking your shirt off and someone else does get it off you, leaving you in a t-shirt and suspenders, and you wonder where your shirt has got off to, then find it tied about your waist. You drift away from Marc and his sisters into the company of that tall guy who drove out with them and you, and he introduces you to other guys—big guys with big hands and deep, loud voices who give you shots of stuff that burn and who laughed at what you say while you laughed at what they say. There have girls with them, and one of them tries sitting in your lap while you are still standing up, and another does get into your lap when you and those guys—or maybe it's a different bunch of guys—collapse into some beanbags in the corner of a back room; or maybe it was the same girl as earlier who fell onto you who puts her arms around your shoulders and engages her mouth with yours.<br/>
<br/>
That's where you are, sprawling, half-passed out, when the one bit of excitement happens. It doesn't register until later, for the evening has long since warped into a kaleidoscope of mirages that hang awkwardly together: dim, strobing lights; percussive, thrusting guitars; scents of sawdust and beer and sweat and vomit; and soft hands on your shoulders and hips and the back of your neck.<br/>
<br/>
But as you remember it later, you are almost horizontally splayed in the beanbag with a girl draped across your lap and her face in the crook of your neck when someone starts yelling—screaming—and a lithe figure with streaming blonde hair streaks into view. She pauses not three feet from your toes and wheels on the guy who is chasing her.<br/>
<br/>
"You're the biggest fucking dick in the world, Seth Javits!" she screams. "And I don't mean your cock! You shit! You goddamned shit, I'll—" The rest of her words are lost in a roar from the onlookers, and a burst of laughter when she slaps him hard across the face. "Go the fuck away, I don't ever want to see you again, you cocksucker! You goddamned cocksucker! Go back to sucking off Gordon and the rest of the squad!"<br/>
<br/>
The world has been tilting back and forth for awhile now, so maybe she runs off, or maybe the floor just tilts far enough over that she and this "Seth" guy go sliding and rolling away like boulders down a hill. You don't care. The girl in your lap has lifted her face long enough to watch the excitement, and now you bury your face in the crook of her neck.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Eventually one of your new friends drags you to your feet—you're in a booth now, draped across a table—and helps you weave a stumbling path across a floor that appears to be strewn with corpses. Your ears hurt badly, as though a rock band is trapped in your skull and is trying to bust its way out through your ear drums. You emerge into a grimy parking lot under a grimy sky pale with morning light. "Where you parked?" your friend asks.<br/>
<br/>
You have to cast a fishing line back into the previous century and drag the hook forward before you snag the answer: "Drove out with Marc 'n them."<br/>
<br/>
"Garner? Fuck, he's long gone. Where you live?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink and try to orient yourself and your house onto a common set of coordinates. Fortunately, some other part of your brain is thinking more clearly without your help. "My truck's back at the school. Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
"You go to Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, Westside. Just parked there for—"<br/>
<br/>
"Gotcha. Come on." He puts a strong arm around your torso and half-lifts, half-drags you over to a beat-up sedan and throws you into the passenger seat.<br/>
<br/>
Some vestige of self-respect overcomes you at that point, and as your friend crawls in and starts the car, you slap yourself awake and sit up. The universe lurches and so does your stomach, but your head is clear enough that you can make out where you are, and who your benefactor is.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you know his name. But he's in a red t-shirt, and his biceps strain the cuffs of his sleeves. He wears a lanyard around his neck. He's got short dark hair and dark eyebrows, and his eyes are dark as well. He's clean shaven, and has a large mole on his jaw. You've seen him around school before, but can't place him.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," you mumble. "I don't remember your name."<br/>
<br/>
"Surprised you remember anything," he replies with a sly grin. "Blake."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Will."<br/>
<br/>
"I know who you are."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Fear rises in your gullet.<br/>
<br/>
His smile widens. "Oh yeah. You're famous, Will." He holds up his palm, and after the invitation registers, you slap it with your own. "This your first time at the Warehouse?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Thought so."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck." You hang your head and rub your eyes. "Wha'd I do?"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "No, you were cool. We were asked to keep an eye on you, make sure you didn't get in any real trouble."<br/>
<br/>
You frown at his shirt and lanyard. You saw a lot of them around last night, worn by big guys with Don't-Fuck-With-Me stares.<br/>
<br/>
You bury your face in your hands again. "Shit. You needed to <i>babysit</i> me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah. Not much. I think we only saved you once when you cut in and started dancing with Susie Pineapple."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt. "What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"She was dancing with Chase Hoffmeister, and Erik had to grab him to keep him from clocking you." None of these names mean anything to you, so you remain silent. "But it worked out. You moved over to dance with some other girl, and Chase and Susie went off in a corner to— Well, I didn't watch."<br/>
<br/>
You are intrigued by the implication that you had more fun last night than you can remember. You rub your forehead, and are startled (and pleased) to find you're still wearing your new hat. You take it off to rake your hair. "Well, thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"It's our job," Blake says. Then he adds, "Not really our job to play taxi cab when the morning comes, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"It's alright." He pauses as he changes lanes to dodge a street cleaner rumbling slowly along the boulevard. "You can pay me back by taking a selfie with me."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." He looks over to grin at you. "I told you, you're famous."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You oblige him when you're at the Eastman lot—which is still crowded with abandoned cars—and are both abashed and absurdly pleased when Blake praises your truck. You pose with him on the hood while he takes a picture of the two of you clasping arms around each other's shoulders. It's not a bad picture, you have to admit when he checks it. You look like a bantam-weight bad-ass in your white t-shirt and suspenders, with the hat cocked back and your chin in the air, and you don't look out of place next to a guy who is either a football player or a wrestler.<br/>
<br/>
But panic finally penetrates the fog in your brain when you're inside the cab of your truck, the keys in the ignition, and you idly noodle around with the thought of taking a couple of more selfies of yourself. That's when you realize you don't have your phone with you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Dude, I am in such fucking trouble,"  you moan when you're slumped at a table in Don's Donuts, where Tilley is working his Saturday morning shift. It's just around the corner from Eastman, but you were shaky enough on the drive over that you thought it best to stop there instead of continuing home. Besides, you need someone to share your panic with. "Comp me some coffee, will ya?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know, it costs us money to make this stuff," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not asking for a free donut," you retort. You have the place to yourself, so you feel free to argue loudly. "And you got a fucking urn of java, and I just want a tiny Styrofoam cup to—"<br/>
<br/>
With a cuss word Keith fills you a small cup and brings it over. You make a face as you sip it. "Maybe I don't wanna sober up," you gasp. "I'm in so much fucking trouble."<br/>
<br/>
His grin is nasty. "Yeah? Tell me about it."<br/>
<br/>
So you tell him about going to the Warehouse and getting blasted—you're woozy, and though you've the start of a headache you're pretty sure you're still drunk—and how you can't find your phone and your dad is probably out looking for you to kill you on account of you were supposed to be with Caleb and ... And where is Johansson anyway?<br/>
<br/>
"Beats the fuck outta me," Keith laughs. "And I toldja you'd get in trouble if you started hanging out with those cunts."<br/>
<br/>
You bury your face in the crook of your arm. "Call him, will ya? Or text him. Ask him to meet me out here."<br/>
<br/>
"It's too early for him to be up."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm gonna hang out here until he gets here, don't care if it's noon before he shows up."<br/>
<br/>
Keith snorts. A minute later he tells you he's sent the text. There's no reply, naturally.<br/>
<br/>
Then Keith is shaking your shoulder. "Dude," he says. "You gotta see this. You're texting me." He shows you his phone.<br/>
<br/>
Sure enough, there's a text there from a "Will Prescott."</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111111
author_id: seuzz
title: When a Body Meets a Body
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You furrow your brow at the phone. It takes several seconds for the fact to register: The name at the top of screen is "Will Prescott," and the text balloon <i>dude what up?</i> is being sent from your phone.<br/>
<br/>
Or at least from your account. "The fuck?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Keith drawls. "What do you want me to say back?"<br/>
<br/>
Something starts boiling in your stomach. It bubbles up through your chest and up your neck and into your brain. A reddish haze fills your eyeballs. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Some smartass son of a bitch has your phone and he's using it to text your friends!<br/>
<br/>
Goddamned fuckery is what this is!</i><br/>
<br/>
"Will?"<br/>
<br/>
You grab Keith's phone from him. "Lemme have this," you mumble. "I'm'a go fix this asshole's shi—<i>iiiiiiii!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Standing up, you discover, is a bad idea. The room heaves and buckles and wallows, and so does your stomach in a frightening counterpoint.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude," Keith says, and he lays a hand on your arm. "Maybe you better—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>No. Fuck it!</i> You jerk away and lurch to the door, pulled along by a resentful, and probably drunken, fury. <br/>
<br/>
Fury doesn't help you walk, though. It's like clambering down the length of a rollercoaster while said rollercoaster is racing up and down a track. But you manage to fall out of the donut shop to the sidewalk beyond and—dodging a fat lady and her two kids—you stumble over to your truck.<br/>
<br/>
There you have to bend over. You brace yourself against the side of your truck and with one rolling, heaving shudder after another blurt out everything you've lately eaten—which isn't much—and what you've lately drunk—which is somewhat more—onto the pavement. Great ropes of stuff like wet snot come dribbling out of your mouth. You gasp and burp and catch your breath, then splash your front wheel with a more lengths of your stomach lining.<br/>
<br/>
It must have done you some good, though, for even though the cramping (and the hard morning sunlight) have given you a sudden headache, you feel much clearer and better as you clamber into your truck. You start the engine with a growl—<br/>
<br/>
Then you turn it off, because you're not a complete, shit-faced moron. <br/>
<br/>
Instead, you pull out Tilley's phone. There's another text from the mystery sender: <i>dude?</i><br/>
<br/>
You ponder revealing your identity, or challenging his, but decide to play it cautiously. So you reply: <i>here busy what up?</i><br/>
<br/>
A lengthy pause, and you wonder if he's mystified by the reply from "keith tilley." Maybe it's an innocent mistake, and he doesn't know he's texting someone named Tilley on the phone of someone named Prescott?<br/>
<br/>
Then: <i>nothing. at the storage unit. bored.</i><br/>
<br/>
You wonder what he means by "storage unit."<br/>
<br/>
Then he texts: <i>busy making donuts?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>not too busy,</i> you text back. <i>come out hang out give you free donut maybe two n coffee.</i> If you can get him out here, you can get your phone back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>awesome but im stuck here,</i> he says.<br/>
<br/>
<i>cant you get aride? how did you get out there?<br/>
<br/>
covering for asshole. tried texting caleb but hes passed out guess</i><br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" you mutter to yourself. The guy knows Caleb too. So who is this? <i>wher u say yu ar?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>carlos storeage place on 20th so bored.</i><br/>
<br/>
At least it's a clue. You restart your truck and jackrabbit backwards onto Twentieth. Top Shelf Self-Storage is only about a mile down that street. Inside of ten minutes, probably, you'll have your phone back, and maybe you'll have kicked the ass of ... whoever it is that has it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A gate blocks access to the storage complex, and you need a code to get in. You remember that Carlos had given you one when you came out to watch that long-ass movie, but of course you've forgotten it. But there's a car in front of the office, so you park and run inside to see if you can get the numbers.<br/>
<br/>
A  middle-aged woman looks up at you from behind the desk with a pleasant expression. "Yes?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I need to get in to meet someone who's inside. Can I get a code for the gate?"<br/>
<br/>
"You need to have a unit here for us to open the gate. Do you have one?" You shake your head. "I see. Well, does your friend have one?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so. It's Carlos Montoya, and I think he has two units—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Carlos!" she exclaims. "You're a friend of his? Are you moving something, because if you just want to get in to see him, there's a door through there into the complex." She points down a hallway.<br/>
<br/>
You thank her and tell her that'll be fine.<br/>
<br/>
The wind is chilly when you step out the back door into the complex. The sun still very harsh, and you wish you had your sunglasses with you.<br/>
<br/>
There's no one around, and it occurs to you that maybe you've been lured into a snipe hunt. Maybe that guy is around, or maybe he's off somewhere laughing about where he's sent you because, after all, he's texting you from a phone that he ... found? Stole?<br/>
<br/>
So, feeling suddenly wary, you huddle behind the corner of a building and text him again. <i>where in complex are you?<br/>
<br/>
studio tv here but dont know how use it.</i><br/>
<br/>
Would that be Carlos and Mike's studio? <i>are crlos n mike wth you?<br/>
<br/>
no told yu just me.</i><br/>
<br/>
"But who are you, asshole?" you mutter to yourself. You don't want to just come out and ask him because, no matter the answer, it would look weird: Asking the guy using Will Prescott's phone who he is.<br/>
<br/>
So you try a slightly different angle of attack. <i>y u using will prescotts phone?</i><br/>
<br/>
A long pause. Then: <i>lol me who fuck else?</i><br/>
<br/>
You almost jump out of your skin. The cocksucker is pretending to be you? Or is it some asshole friend of Tilley's, and Keith would know who it is?<br/>
<br/>
<i>come outside got surprise for you,</i> you text. You peer around the corner of the building, so you can safely spy on him when he emerges from the climate-controlled building.<br/>
<br/>
If he does come out. You now seriously doubt that the asshole is anywhere nearby.<br/>
<br/>
<i>dude u get caleb up?</i> he texts.<br/>
<br/>
<i>just come see.</i> You grit your teeth.<br/>
<br/>
No reply, and no movement. No reply, and no movement. You wonder what excuse the fucker will come up with. Maybe none. Maybe he's figured out he's busted. <br/>
<br/>
No reply, and no movement.<br/>
<br/>
Then: Movement. The door opens, and a figure steps out.<br/>
<br/>
You hang back just long enough to confirm it's not the Molester or a football player or anyone who is likely to seriously hurt you. He sure doesn't look physically intimidating. He's in cargo shorts and a t-shirt, and with those skinny arms and skinny shanks he'd probably have a hard time beating up a girl. <br/>
<br/>
So you charge at him.<br/>
<br/>
You're halfway across the lot before it registers that there's something very familiar about that shock of straw-like hair atop his head, and the crooked grimace he turns on you when he sees you coming.<br/>
<br/>
But not until his jaw drops and his eyes pop does his face acquire a shape that lets you organize all the pieces into something you recognize.<br/>
<br/>
The figure in front of you could be your twin. You skid to a hard stop, and your own jaw drops.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've heard of "doppelgangers" before. Not the creatures out of D&amp;D and fantasy worlds, though you've heard of them, too. Just the mundane sort. The uncanny twins that sometimes show up. People who look like people you know, except for subtle differences. Innocent lookalikes.<br/>
<br/>
This guy could be your innocent lookalike.<br/>
<br/>
Except that he doesn't act very innocent. For a couple of seconds you stare at each other, the horror and surprise on his face mirroring the horror and surprise that probably appears on yours.<br/>
<br/>
Then he says "Eep" and wheels around. He tugs at the door to the climate unit. It doesn't open. As, stupidly, you continue to stare at him, he taps at the keypad by the door. Not until he's got the door open do you jump after him, and then it's too late. The door wheezes shut before you can grasp the handle, and it's locked again when you yank at it. You jam your face to the glass in the door and peer in. A shadowy figure is sprinting down the central corridor of the building.<br/>
<br/>
Holy fuck! Did you actually see what you think you just saw?<br/>
<br/>
You hop back and stare at the door, then tear off around the building in case there's another entrance. There isn't one—the only way out is through the door with the keypad. After frowning at it and chewing your lip, you run back to the office.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, can I get the code for the climate control building?" you ask the clerk.<br/>
<br/>
But this time she frowns at you. "Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, 'cos Carlos is in there—"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't he let you in?"<br/>
<br/>
That shuts you up. And as you hesitate, you see the doubt and suspicion creeping into her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
So you run out the front door to your truck before she can start challenging you. And to be extra safe, you move your truck to the laundromat across the street. There's a high fence all around the Top Shelf Storage complex, so the gate's the only way out, and from the laundromat you can spot anyone who tries leaving.<br/>
<br/>
But what are you going to do now?<br/>
<br/>
Well, Carlos could get you inside, and he'd probably like to know that there's someone inside the climate-controlled unit and maybe inside his studio. A quick search shows that Keith has Carlos's number on his phone, so that's an option.<br/>
<br/>
You could also call Keith—at the donut shop's own number—and tell him what you saw and maybe get him to come out and help you get inside to confront ... whatever it is in there.<br/>
<br/>
Or you could just wait and watch to see who emerges, and follow them.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Prisoner in the Dark
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Yes! Direct action! That's the thing!<br/>
<br/>
You shoot Montoya a text: <i>hey this will prescott i got keith's phone but its me i need talk can i call u?</i><br/>
<br/>
The reply comes with a ring tone: "Uh, Will?" a muzzy voice says when you pick up.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! Is that you, Carlos? You get my text?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, that's why I'm— Uh ... What's up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm over at your storage unit, and I was trying to get in, and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on, Will," Carlos says. "I got texts coming in."<br/>
<br/>
That's fine. You're happy for the wait so you try to figure out how to explain to Carlos that you saw your evil twin at his storage complex.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'm back," he says a minute later. "Were you trying to get in earlier? Asking Dolores for the key code to the climate unit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You lunge at the one story that makes the most sense. "Some asshole stole my phone from me at the Warehouse last night, and he started texting my friends. I tracked him down to your storage unit, but I can't get in to him. I think he might be inside your studio," you add, in case that will help light a fire under Carlos, "'cos he was talking about how there's a TV in there and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay, I get it," Carlos says. "Um. Where are you now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Across the street, watching the gate. In case he tries to bust out."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you just stay there and watch. Call me if you see anything weird." You doubt he means 'weird like your own doppelganger'. "I have to get a shower and get dressed, but I'll be out there as fast as I can."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, that's great,</i> you think as you hang up. But now you just have to anticipate what'll happen when you get inside and Carlos Montoya discovers that there are two of you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Carlos wastes no time getting out there, which you're glad of. Only one vehicle went in and out while you were waiting, and you're pretty sure your doppelganger didn't slip out with it.<br/>
<br/>
Carlos pulls into a spot next to the office, and after getting out he waves vaguely in your direction. You gun your engine and hop across the street to park next to him. <br/>
<br/>
After a quick "hey" is exchanged, he ushers you into the office, introduces you to "Dolores"—whose blank look can't entirely cover her obvious suspicions about you—and walks you back into the complex. "So what's this story again?" he asks as he taps a text into his cell.<br/>
<br/>
"Some guy stole my phone. He told me he was out here—"<br/>
<br/>
"Why was he talking to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"He texted Keith. I was with him, so I took Keith's phone and started talking back to the guy. Anyway, he told me he was out here. I came out and looked around, and— Well, I think I got a look at him before he ran into the climate building."<br/>
<br/>
Carlos stops in his tracks to squint at you. "Uh huh?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," is all you can think to say back.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Carlos sighs after his phone has dinged again, "we should go take a look." After briefly glancing at his phone, he puts it away and leads you over to the climate building.<br/>
<br/>
"Grab the handle while I get the code in," he grunts as he taps at the pad. "The thing is funny and you have to be quick. That's great," he adds as you yank the door open. "After you."<br/>
<br/>
You step inside. It is very dim after the brightness outside. It's also very cold.<br/>
<br/>
And that's all you have time to notice before you're grabbed from behind and something dark closes over your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's dark when you wake up.<br/>
<br/>
Of course it's dark. Your eyes are closed.<br/>
<br/>
So you open them. It's still dark. So you open them again.<br/>
<br/>
It's still dark. So you open them again. It's still dark.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Okay, this is getting ridiculous,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
You sit up, and only then do you realize you were lying on your back. But it's still dark, and you reel dizzily. You shake your head and rub your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Now the darkness is filled with phantom lights, which is no improvement.<br/>
<br/>
You feel around yourself. You are seated on a narrow, padded something, and your fingers run into cold metal arms. Some of these connect the padded seat to the ground, and others stick straight up. You grip them until you convince yourself that you are actually awake, and seated, and that you are probably not hanging upside down from a ceiling. You stand up.<br/>
<br/>
The world doesn't look or feel any different.<br/>
<br/>
You crouch to feel the floor. Concrete. Very cold concrete. Now that you notice it, there's a motor humming nearby, and moving air gently whooshes.<br/>
<br/>
That's it! You're on a space ship, and those are the engines!<br/>
<br/>
<i>Okay, probably not.</i><br/>
<br/>
You shuffle about, and— <i>Bang!</i> "Son of a bitch!"<br/>
<br/>
You reach down to touch what you bumped into: It's a chest of some kind, with a lock. But the lid won't lift.<br/>
<br/>
You shuffle about some more, more carefully this time, on account of your aching toes. They and your nose meet a wall almost simultaneously. You feel along the length of this until you find another wall. You follow this to another wall. Then another wall and— <br/>
<br/>
Hang on. A sheet of metal hanging vertically. It rattles. You push and pull at it, but it won't budge.<br/>
<br/>
You bang on it. "Hey! <i>Hey!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
No answer.<br/>
<br/>
So you resume shuffling along the wall. You meet another wall. Then— <i>Bang!</i> "Son of a bitch!"<br/>
<br/>
You kneel. If it's not the same goddamned chest, then there's two of them. You feel around until you find that padded bench, and sit back down. You try to place yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, you were going into the storage complex with Carlos, to look for ... that guy with your phone. You'd just stepped inside when someone grabbed you and ... Knocked you out? Your head doesn't ache, except from that same hangover-y ache you've been feeling since sobering up.<br/>
<br/>
Still, it seems the likeliest explanation: That guy you saw earlier saw you coming, and he jumped you and banged you on the head. Then he ... dragged you into one of the storage units and locked you in?<br/>
<br/>
Well, it's not a happy hypothesis, but it has the virtue of making sense. Now, what happened to Carlos?<br/>
<br/>
After a very long time, you decide you'll never be a detective because you're lousy at coming up with theories of the crime.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Wonder eventually gave way to worry, which yielded to fear, which yielded to gloom and self-pity.<br/>
<br/>
Now,  though, you're mostly just bored. How long have you been here? You've no idea, for you lost Keith's cell phone in the scrum. You want to say <i>hours</i> but you know your impatience well enough to guess it's probably been closer to fifteen minutes.<br/>
<br/>
The first sign that something is afoot comes when you hear a scraping noise from outside. Then someone bangs on the metal door. "Will? You in there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! Who is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mike! Hollister! I thought you might be in there! Hang on, I'll get you out!"<br/>
<br/>
The old expression forms in your mind: <i>For the love of Mike!</i> "What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on!" The door rattles and lifts a few inches. Then it stops and rattles again. It rattles harder. "Shit."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuckity-boo's jimmer-jammered on the gottverdammit." The door rattles again. "Um, think you can slide out under?"<br/>
<br/>
It looks like a tight fit, but you're happy to try.<br/>
<br/>
So you lay back on the cold floor, grasp the bottom of the door, and with eyes clenched shut pull yourself out.<br/>
<br/>
Something dark and cold drops onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said, she fell asleep."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a boring movie, Eva, do you blame her?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not my fault! I'm not the one who picked it!"<br/>
<br/>
There's a throbbing in your head, so you keep your eyes closed even after you have heard the voices. But now, with a frown, you open them.<br/>
<br/>
There's a big-screen TV a couple of feet away. It shows a man and a woman—you don't recognize them—sitting at a kitchen table, talking in a foreign language. There are subtitles, though. <i>THE COFFEE IS COLD,</i> the woman says. <i>THE COFFEE IS ALWAYS COLD.</i> The man says, <i>ONE LEARNS TO ACCEPT IT WITH HUMILITY.</i> "Don't you just want to punch him?" someone grouses. You sit up and look around.<br/>
<br/>
"Hello, sleepyhead," Eva Garner says. You blink at her, then turn to look at Jessica Garner. On the other side of her, with arms crossed and a bored expression, is Cindy Vredenburg. You are all lounging in bean bag chairs, turned toward a TV. Behind you, in a corner, is a large desk. There's video equipment in the corner.<br/>
<br/>
You know this room. This is the studio where Carlos Montoya and Michael Hollister make their YouTube videos.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mike!</i> You sit up sharply.<br/>
<br/>
"Tina?" says Eva. Jessica turns toward you.<br/>
<br/>
"Mike," you gasp. "Michael? Hollister?" you add when Jessica frowns. "Where'd he go? What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sweetie," Eva says, "you've been out for an hour. Mike's long gone. Lucky asshole."<br/>
<br/>
"But when he let me out of the—"<br/>
<br/>
You break off. All three girls turn to you with confused expressions.<br/>
<br/>
Naturally, for you yourself are confused.<br/>
<br/>
You were going to say that Mike Hollister was pulling you out of a locked storeroom inside of which you'd been stashed by a maniac.<br/>
<br/>
But that's ridiculous. You've been sitting here with Eva and Jessica and Cindy watching a movie. They invited you out to watch it. Yes, you're in Mike and Carlos's studio. They wanted you girls to watch a movie and maybe help them make a video about it.<br/>
<br/>
Well, they wanted Eva and Jessica and Cindy to watch it. And Eva and Jessica and Cindy are the ones who invited you—Tina Branson—along.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111112
author_id: seuzz
title: Donuts of the Damned
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Keith Tilley's face is a mask of confusion when you charge back into Don's Donuts.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude," you exclaim as you slam his phone back on the counter. "I have just had the fucking weirdest exper—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Tsh! Will!" Keith goes very rigid, and his eyes dart back and forth. "I'm at work now, and there are customers, and I really wish you'd watch your language."<br/>
<br/>
You wheel. The place has a dozen people scattered about the tables. At the nearest, an eight-year-old boy is gazing up at you with rapt astonishment. His mother is leaning over and hissing hard as she tries to wipe the chocolate off his face. You can tell by her expression that she'd much rather be washing out your mouth with lye.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, dammit! I mean—" A sweat of embarrassment breaks out on your back. "When you get a minute," you mutter at Keith, "come talk to me." You throw yourself into a chair by the pane-glass window up front and try to make yourself inconspicuous.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It seems like ages pass before Keith comes over to talk. Every time you look over, he is either serving a customer, or cleaning a countertop, or filling an urn, or checking his cell phone. Mostly doing the latter. You flash him dirty looks—which he doesn't notice—for you can't help wondering if he's texting with whoever has your cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
Which is who?<br/>
<br/>
It's a funny thing about being bored, which is what you are now. The longer you are away from the complex, the less freaked out you feel. A world that seemed very funny (peculiar) when you were staring at a person who could have been your long-lost twin comes to seem very ordinary when you're sitting in a crummy little donut shop on a grimy commercial thoroughfare at nine-shitty-three in the morning. The more you think about it, the more stupid your reaction at the complex feels.<br/>
<br/>
So it was just one of those weird things where you run into a guy who happens to bear a startling resemblance to someone you know. (In this case, <i>you.</i>) He was probably as freaked out as you were. Check that, he <i>was</i> freaked out, because he jumped back inside the complex. <br/>
<br/>
That's all it was, right?<br/>
<br/>
Then you remember that he had your phone, and that he thought he was texting Keith, and from the way he was talking, it sure sounded like he was trying to pretend that he <i>was</i> you.<br/>
<br/>
But after you remember that, you notice that the sun is shining and that the car wash across the street is doing gangbusters business, and that if you went outside you could smell the oil from the Lube-n-Go shop next door. And it seems ridiculous to think that ...<br/>
<br/>
That a pod person was growing inside the Top Shelf Storage Complex, and that it achieved sentience during the night, and that it was using your phone to insinuate itself into your life ...<br/>
<br/>
You shiver hard when that story takes its final form.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At a little before ten, Keith finally flops into the chair across from you. <br/>
<br/>
"Okay," he says. "We got the place to ourselves, and the fresh donuts are on their way to being day-old crust. What the fuck happened to you when you ran off? Taking my phone <i>without</i> permission, I may add."<br/>
<br/>
"I was trying to find whoever had my phone."<br/>
<br/>
"And did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not exactly. I tracked him down to the Top Shelf Storage Complex, though."<br/>
<br/>
Keith frowns. "Carlos's place?" You nod. "And?"<br/>
<br/>
"And he saw me coming and he ran back inside one of the buildings. The one where Mike and Carlos make their videos in."<br/>
<br/>
Keith stares at you. "Is that's all?"<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't that enough?"<br/>
<br/>
His lips compress. "Not enough for you to come running in here yelling a streak of cuss words that's gonna get me fired."<br/>
<br/>
You glare. "I did <i>not</i> yell a string of cuss words when I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, you were all, like, goddamn this and motherfucker that and—"<br/>
<br/>
"I was not!"<br/>
<br/>
He crosses his arms. "You might as well have been. You know who that was sitting behind you when you came in promising to assfuck the universe?" You answer with a glower. "That was only Mrs. Murray."<br/>
<br/>
"Who the fuckity fuck fuck is Mrs. Murray?"<br/>
<br/>
"She and her husband own the Agape Christian school."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, fuck Mrs. God-humping Murray and her God-humping husband and all the God-humping little fucks who—"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, shut up!" Keith bolts upright, and his eyes bulge from his head. He stares behind you as an electronic bell on the door goes <i>gwdonnggg.</i> You look over your shoulder, and do a double take of your own.<br/>
<br/>
Even after the Warehouse and the shopping trip to Nirdlinger's and the photo session at the school, you will probably always react that way when Cindy Vredenburg is close by.<br/>
<br/>
She's in a crisp, sleeveless blouse this morning with a short skirt and brown, calf-hugging high-heel boots. Her hair is shiny and straight, and her complexion blushes with health. Her teeth gleam and so do her eyes as they light on you.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" she cries as she comes over, and she wraps her hands around your head so that you—literally—get an eyeful of her boob as she crushes your face to her bosom. "Omigod, didn't we have so much fun last night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mrgf. Yeah." You avoid Tilley's eye as she releases you.<br/>
<br/>
"It's so lucky I ran into you here! We were going to call you later. Eva and Jessica and me. We're all getting together at my place to watch a movie, and we wanted you there too."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
She beams at you. "Say yes." She looks at Tilley. "Tell Will he should totally come over."<br/>
<br/>
"You should totally come over, Will," he tonelessly repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, um, sure," you stammer. "But listen, I got a little situation right now—"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet with a laugh. "You said yes. You promised. We're doing it now. Like, I came over here to get some donut holes—you'll comp us on those, right?" she brightly asks Keith. "And if you don't come over, Will Prescott, I swear we'll never talk to you again."<br/>
<br/>
So numbed are you by this outburst that not until it's over do you realize that your cock is straining toward her. "Sure, but listen, there's this—"<br/>
<br/>
"Thirteen donut holes," Cindy tells Keith, who has already shuffled behind the counter. "They say thirteen's unlucky, so we never eat the thirteenth. Will, where's your truck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Out there, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll just get these, and you can follow me out. Do you know where I live?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." Your tongue cleaves to the roof of your mouth as Cindy smiles at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll have to show you, so you can find your way out anytime you feel like visiting. Thanks, Keith," she says to Tilley, and sure enough, she doesn't give him any money and he doesn't ask for any. "Coming?" she says to you, and sways out the door.<br/>
<br/>
"You should totally go with her," Keith mutters. "Just watch out, because whatever it she wants you out there for, it's bad news."<br/>
<br/>
But that's the song he's been singing since all this began. Naturally, you turn to follow Cindy out.<br/>
<br/>
That's when you almost impale yourself on your own erection.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Cindy lives on the far side of town, in a nice but not irritatingly rich subdivision, in a two-story house. With a wave she summons you up the front walk, where she's waiting, to the front door.<br/>
<br/>
Inside: "Just take these upstairs," she says as she hands you the sack of donut holes. "End of the hall, turn left, knock on the door. Eva and Jessica are waiting. But wait for them to say 'Come in' before you open the door." She grins. "We were all trying on each other's clothes earlier."<br/>
<br/>
You almost swallow your tongue.<br/>
<br/>
Up the stairs you go. The hallway is dark, and all the doors along it are closed. You round a corner into a short, connecting corridor that ends in a door. You knock. "Eva? Jessica? It's Will. I followed Cindy over, and I brought donuts. Holes."<br/>
<br/>
That's what you were saying when you were rushed from behind. Something hard and cold smashes into your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Something hard and cold is still sitting on your face when you wake. At first you're not even sure you're awake. Only when you notice that you're stifling do you fly up with flailing arms. Something slides off your face and bounces off your leg. You look around.<br/>
<br/>
You're in a bedroom, and judging by the decor it's a girl's bedroom. White, lacy curtains on the windows, and baby blue and pink wallpaper. Shelves are lined with trophies, and there's a desk with a laptop and a Barbie doll that's been mounted on a small plinth; it's been posed with its arms over its head, and its vacant smile is either expressing the thought <i>Hooray for me!</i> or the boast <i>Hey! I shaved my pits!</i> You are seated on a quilted bed under a four-poster canopy. Everything is pin-neat.<br/>
<br/>
The only bit of untidiness is the thing in your lap. You pick it up. It's a ceramic mask, like a classic "tragedians" mask. You blink at the name that glows on its inner surface: WILLIAM MARTIN PRESCOTT.<br/>
<br/>
Well, that is you.<br/>
<br/>
Voice sound nearby. Slowly, with a crinkled brow, you get to your feet and creep to the door. You open it.<br/>
<br/>
It's that corridor you came up earlier. You look to your right. It's that door you were knocking on. The voices are coming from behind it.<br/>
<br/>
You walk up to it, knock, and this time you barge right in.<br/>
<br/>
Four girls are in the room: Eva, Jessica, Cindy, and a girl who looks like an older version of Cindy. They are frowning down at a man-shaped, man-sized whitish lumpy thing lying on the bed.<br/>
<br/>
Eva does a double-take at you, and her eyes widen. She wheels on Cindy. <br/>
<br/>
"God damn it, Tilley," she hisses, "we told you to keep an eye on him!"</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Magical Transvestites, Part 1
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The girls—except for Eva, who continues to glare at Cindy—stare at you. The oldest of the quartet says, "Shit."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Lucy!</i> Cindy's older sister, that's who she is! She was a senior at Westside when you were a sophomore! God, she was gorgeous.<br/>
<br/>
She still is. She has the same sheets of platinum hair as Cindy, the same translucent skin and full figure, the same pie-pan face that any guy would give his left kidney to cradle between his hands. She's got something more, though, maybe because she's more mature. She's got a ripeness the others lack. Cindy is a peach, but she's a slightly immature one, still firm and a little raw. Lucy would be tender, yielding flesh and warm juice on your face, and she's so big and there's much of her—<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, he's getting an erection again!" Jessica squeals in disgust.<br/>
<br/>
"And no one thought to bring another mask?" Lucy says.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we could hit him over the head with a two by four," Eva says. "He's just standing there. You'd let us knock you cold with a two by four, wouldn't you, Will?" She turns on a coquettish, simpering smile. "Wouldn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gyuh?" you say.<br/>
<br/>
Lucy sighs. "Well, dammit. I suppose this calls for a change of plan." She smiles tightly at you. "Hi, Will."<br/>
<br/>
Everyone looks at everyone else. Jessica finally nudges Cindy. "Well, go on," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's your fucking friend."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes go very wide. "So? You mean I'm supposed to—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, that's enough," Lucy says. She frowns. "The trouble is that we don't have any of our own clothes here. So I guess—" She sucks on her lip. "Tilley, it looks like you're volunteered."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?" Cindy gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Grab him, guys," Lucy says. "Tilley," she adds when no one moves.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy shrieks as Eva and Jessica lay hands on her. You jump back with a pounding heart as Lucy lunges for Cindy's face.<br/>
<br/>
There's a four girl scrum. Cindy screams weakly and the others shout. The girl-pile falls against one of the walls, then tumbles to the floor with Lucy on top. Everyone goes very tense.<br/>
<br/>
Then with a long sigh, Lucy stands up.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, Will," she says, turning to you. "I guess the first thing is to have you look at this." She holds out a bluish object, <br/>
<br/>
This has all been a huge shock, and part of you wants to jump out the window and run. But you don't. While keeping one eye cocked warily on Lucy, you lean forward to peer at the object.<br/>
<br/>
It's a mask. Like the one that dropped off you in the other bedroom. It's an oval shape, with bumps and ridges where the nose, lips, brow and cheekbones would go, and shallow depressions—there are no eye holes—where the eyes would be. It's a burnish blue color, and it glows like the midday sky.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" you say. "So what's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a mask," Lucy says. "But it's not just any kind of a mask. This one—" She breaks off. "Well, look at this side of it." She flips it over. The inner surface is blue like the outer surface. But there are marks on it: blue scratches that shine with a very fierce light, like neon. She turns the mask around, and the scratches resolve into a name: CINDY CYNTHIA VREDENBURG. Oddly, they seem to float above the surface of the mask, like a 3D image.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a mask of Cindy," Lucy says. "If you put it on, you will look like Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," you say. "That's usually what Halloween masks do."<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't a Halloween mask, Will," she says in a very grave tone. "It fooled you into thinking he was Cindy. Just like the mask I'm wearing is fooling you into thinking I'm her sister, Lucy."<br/>
<br/>
You can only blink at this. She's making no sense.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," she says, and steps aside. She points down at Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
Except it's not Cindy sprawled on the floor between Eva and Jessica. Oh, the clothes are the same, but the head is different. The long, platinum hair is gone, replaced by a dark, brutal buzz cut. The complexion is spotty and a little bony. You're completely repulsed, for you have the immediate impression that Cindy's entire head is being eaten up by leprosy.<br/>
<br/>
Then you realize it's the face of a guy. You twist your head about for a better view.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, God.</i> It's Keith! Your friend Keith, who you left back at the donut shop. He's laying there, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape, wearing Cindy's clothes!<br/>
<br/>
You shudder at the skinny, hair legs that are sticking out from under her skirt. "What the—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty disgusting, isn't it?" Eva says.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is this?" you yell. "How did he—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like I said, Will," Lucy says. "He was wearing this mask, and it fooled you. But we got it off him, and now you see who it really was."<br/>
<br/>
You stare and stare at her. With a deep sigh she crouches next to Tilley's head. "Watch," she says.<br/>
<br/>
She drops the mask onto him. What happens next is like a "jump cut" inside reality. The mask vanishes ... And instantly Keith's head disappears. It's Cindy there instead, just as beautiful as before. Only asleep.<br/>
<br/>
"And here it goes again," Lucy says. She splays her hand across Lucy's brow, mutters under her breath, and pulls. A mask comes away in her hand, and beneath it is Keith's face.<br/>
<br/>
"Here," Lucy continues, and you jump back as she holds the mask out to you. "Do you want to try it on?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, you didn't, for you still didn't quite believe it, not even after Eva had taken her own face off, revealing Michael Hollister, and Jessica had taken hers off, revealing Carlos Montoya, and Lucy had been revealed as Philip Fairfax. In each case, the guy was asleep under the mask and had to be slapped awake, and they fell asleep again when putting the masks back on.<br/>
<br/>
"It seems to be a kind of fail-safe mechanism," Philip says when you ask about that. "Maybe it's to keep you from hurting yourself while the transformation is taking place." Like Mike and Carlos and Keith, he is wearing his own face, but like them he has wrapped himself in a blanket. They are all dressed underneath in the girls' things, but everyone seems to agree that it's very gross to look at each other's male, teenaged bodies dressed that way.<br/>
<br/>
And how are he and the others able to accomplish these transformations? "We got a book shows how to do it," Carlos says. "I got it—"<br/>
<br/>
"We got it from a guy who didn't know what it was," Philip interrupts. "It was in Latin, and he couldn't read Latin."<br/>
<br/>
"Neither could you," Carlos retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"I have the patience to try deciphering it," Philip replies. He says it in a very patient voice, and everything he says he says patiently. He's a red-head with a buzz cut, but he has none of Mike's (another red-head) excitability.<br/>
<br/>
"So you've been disguising yourselves as ... ?" you stammer. "But where are the real girls?" You glare at Keith. "Who's that asshole back Don's Donuts!"<br/>
<br/>
Keith grins weakly. "He's covering for me."<br/>
<br/>
"He's a beta," Philips says. "A kind of magical robot. The book shows you how to make those, too. We each have one. They have to obey us and we've left them behind to, as Keith says, cover for us."<br/>
<br/>
"But where's the real Cindy?" You hate the shrillness that has crept into your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"They're okay, totally safe," Philip says. "They're asleep. Just, uh, hidden." You notice the Mike and Carlos exchanging some sly smirks. "And this is just a temporary trade. We're conducting a sociological experiment." He frowns at Mike when the latter snickers.<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of experiment?" Philip is being very reassuring, but the others are making you nervous with their quiet laughter. Except for Keith, who looks mortified.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's an experiment on you," Philip says, and you start. "We've been trying to see if there's a way of making you, uhwell popular."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops.<br/>
<br/>
"Come off it, Will," Keith says. "You know that no one likes to hang out with us. You and me and Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"That's a little harsh," Carlos says. He turns to you. "You just don't try," he says in a pitying tone.<br/>
<br/>
"You have certain 'cloaked' quality, Will," Philip says. "You escape notice. We've been trying to raise your profile, by giving you a makeover and taking you out and talking about you on social media. It seems to be working. You've made a splash since we bought you those new things."<br/>
<br/>
You're suddenly conscious of your clothes, and you lift your new hat to rub self-consciously at your scalp. "Why?" you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, just to see if it can be done. You can credit Keith here for the idea."<br/>
<br/>
"You were all complaining about how low status you were," Keith says. "I mentioned that to the guys, and suddenly we all got the idea it would be fun to see if we could push you up in the world. We already got ourselves pretty high," he brags, "after we turned ourselves into cheerleaders!"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help feeling a spiteful stab. Keith is your friend, you thought, and he went off to do these things with Carlos and Mike and Philip, and he didn't bring you along? Jesus, that's cold.<br/>
<br/>
"But now that you know what's going on," Philip says, "what do you want to do about it? Just go on as yourself, like before? But not, uh, telling anyone about what's going on? Or would you like to, uh—?" A little pink creeps into his cheeks as he opens up the blanket he's wrapped in, to show off the cute skirt and top he's wearing. "There are any number of people you could impersonate, and use to help your own elevation."<br/>
<br/>
"What about that?" Carlos asks, and he jerks his head at the thing on the bed. You've not examined it closely, but it looks like a crude, unfinished, featureless statue.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure that's anything Will would be interested in," Philip says primly.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111111211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Magical Transvestites, Part 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Why isn't it my business?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
You feel like you've been taking these revelations in a good spirit. These guys, including one of your best friends, have been turning themselves into cheerleaders and manipulating your life and doing all kinds of crazy shit with magic. Anyone else, you think, probably would have jumped out the window when they saw Keith's bony, hairy ass inside Cindy Vredenburg's skirt.<br/>
<br/>
Now it feels like they're just trying to jolly you along. They're promising you a shiny toy—<i>Ooh! Will! How about we turn you into a pretty girl like us!</i>—while they keep running things from the grown-up table.<br/>
<br/>
So you feel your lower lip thrusting outward as you ask the question again. "Why isn't it my business?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because," Philip says, "we're actually not sure what it is."<br/>
<br/>
"It" is the thing on the bed. It's a whitish thing about the size and shape of a person, for it has stumps where legs and arms might go, and the potato-shaped lump at one end is sort of like a head. It has no features, though, and looks rather like the first rough pass a sculptor might make of a statue before filling in the details.<br/>
<br/>
"It appears to be a beta," Philip continues. "Those are the robots I told you about, the things we use to, uh, replace us in our real lives so no one notices we're gone. But this one has shown up in a most unexpected place."<br/>
<br/>
You glance around the company, but Carlos and Mike and Keith all seem to be used to this very professorial manner that Philip has.<br/>
<br/>
He's still talking, too. "We were trying to make a copy of Lucy, but something went wrong. We—"<br/>
<br/>
You gasp. "You mean you killed her?" You swing around to stare at the bed and the thing on it. Is that Lucy Vredenburg? Her corpse? What's left of her corpse after Fairfax's magic went to work on her.<br/>
<br/>
"No, we didn't kill her," Philip says, but the others sit up with a start and exchange wide-eyed glances. "Shit," mutters Mike, "we didn't think maybe <i>that—</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't kill her," Philip says more firmly. "We just uncovered the truth that Lucy was already a beta."<br/>
<br/>
"But how did <i>that</i> happen?" Carlos explains. "Unless when we put that mask on her—"<br/>
<br/>
"We know she was already a beta because we got <i>this</i> off her," Philip says. He holds up the mask that he used to turn himself into Lucy. "What happened," he says, turning to you, "since you want to know everything, is that we tried making a copy of Lucy. Normally when you put a blank mask—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on!" You raise your hand. "First of all, could you explain how these masks actually work?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, you don't get a very straight answer to that question, as lots of people try to help and end up arguing over the details, and it's soon clear that no one knows the actual technique: they're just following a procedure that's written in some book that Montoya has and that Fairfax has been studying. <br/>
<br/>
But basically, it appears, you craft a mask and attach some kind of metal doohickey to it. Then, when you put it onto a person's face, it vanishes while knocking them out and copying them. After about ten minutes it reappears, and if you seal it up you're able to put it on and turn yourself into a copy of that person. Or you can set it on a beta—that lumpy thing on the bed—and it will turn into a magical robot that has to obey whoever created it.<br/>
<br/>
Your mouth puckers up sourly as you remember what happened in the hall when you arrived: Someone jumped you and jammed something into your face, and when you woke up you found a mask that had your name in it.<br/>
<br/>
Like someone was trying to copy you so they could turn themselves into you. But you say nothing.<br/>
<br/>
Anyhow, the guys had tried doing that to Lucy. Only the mask didn't go into her. It just fizzed and burned on her face until in a panic they pulled it off. Lucy sank into a stupor. Fortunately, Philip had the presence of mind to try a quick experiment: He pulled at Lucy's face, and a mask came away, revealing a beta beneath.<br/>
<br/>
"So the question we now face," he concludes, "is who made the beta of Lucy?"<br/>
<br/>
Silence ensues. You look around the circle of faces. "You mean it wasn't one of you?" Your gaze settles on Keith, who had after all been impersonating Lucy's sister. He turns red.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm certain it's not one of us," Philip says, "but we were starting to investigate when you interrupted us." He blinks. "I think that brings you up to speed now, Will."<br/>
<br/>
If so, it's been a breathless ride. "So what's happening now?" you ask for lack of a better question.<br/>
<br/>
"We were investigating the mask we pulled off Lucy, to get at the memories inside. Remember, we mentioned that the masks can copy those too, along with personalities?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right. So what's the answer?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, it'll be awhile before an answer comes," he replies, "and that's even after I'm back in the mask. The memories don't come right away. They take several hours to seep in, and it's usually best to get a good night's sleep before you fully get them, along with the personality. Fortunately, if you get a mask back on not too long after taking it off, you get them back right away. Speaking of which," he adds, turning to Keith. "Cindy's parents should be back soon. Maybe you should get back in character before they do."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," Keith says. He picks up the mask of Cindy and, with the blanket still around him, exits the room. You imagine he's got a furtive look on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"So hang on," you say to Fairfax after Tilley is gone. "If you weren't pretending to be Lucy already, who were you pretending to be all this time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maria Vasquez," he replies. "And Josiah is playing Chelsea Cooper."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa." <i>Well, that's something to process later.</i> "But for now you're going to turn yourself into Lucy?"<br/>
<br/>
"At least long enough to get into her memories. Which, as I say, probably won't be until the end of the day, and maybe not until tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"What happens to Maria?"<br/>
<br/>
More glances are exchanged. Carlos leans forward.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, Will," he says in a low voice. "We've explained all this to you and offered you a chance to join up in our, uh, club. Are you going to join?"<br/>
<br/>
If you didn't want to join, you had an opportunity earlier to say so. And you remember what Philip said about "hiding" people so they could be replaced. They could do that to you.<br/>
<br/>
And when you remember that mask in the next room, the one with your name on it ... And that <i>person</i> you saw at the complex ... It occurs to you that they were already making plans to replace and impersonate you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I won't tell anyone," you say around the small lump that's formed in your throat. "And I'll play."<br/>
<br/>
Mike looks relieved, but Carlos and Philip continue to look very serious. "In that case," the latter says, "you could help us out by taking over one of our impersonations while one of us steps into the role of Lucy Vredenburg."<br/>
<br/>
"How would that work?" It's Mike who asks the question, but it's your question too.<br/>
<br/>
Fairfax tugs at his lip. "Probably the best way to do it," he says, "would be for Will to become one of the Garner girls. Jessica, maybe," he says, and points at Carlos. "And you could take over as Lucy long enough to get the memories out."<br/>
<br/>
"Why me?" Carlos asks, and Mike nods. "Why not you or Keith?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because Will would still have to get into Jessica's memories. Or Eva's, if he takes over for her. But meanwhile, the other sister would be on hand to help cover for him until he got them."<br/>
<br/>
"Why can't I be Lucy?" you blurt out. Not that you have any strong preference, really, but you're in a mood to voice almost every stray thought you have.<br/>
<br/>
"I think we'd prefer to conduct that investigation ourselves."<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. "But I could stay with Keith. With Cindy. She could cover for me."<br/>
<br/>
"I have the impression Lucy isn't often at home," Fairfax says.<br/>
<br/>
"She could be." The more you think of it, the better you like the idea of impersonating Lucy, for it would put you with Keith, who you know and can probably guilt and bully into telling you more about this stuff. Being Jessica or Eva would put you at the mercy of one of the main hoodlums.<br/>
<br/>
A pained silence ensues. "I don't want you to think that we don't trust you, Will," Fairfax says, but he breaks off when he sees your chin tilting. He grimaces as he resumes. "But you are the newbie, and—" A red spot forms on his forehead, and he starts to stammer while avoiding your eye. "And, well, kind of on, uh, probationary status?"<br/>
<br/>
You tilt your chin further. "Did you put Tilley on probationary status when you let him join?"<br/>
<br/>
"He was in it from the start," Carlos says.<br/>
<br/>
Philip slumps. "And I suppose trust has to go both ways," he sighs. As though he has read your earlier thoughts, he adds, "And if you put on Lucy's mask that means you and Keith can talk some more and he can explain things all over again so you'll know what's important when you start getting her memories."<br/>
<br/>
You look around the circle at the three of them. They look very unhappy at the idea that you might lay claim to the mask of Lucy Vredenburg. And, in fact, it would be a major responsibility, one you're not sure you're prepared to handle, since all this is very new to you. It would be most diplomatic, probably, if you retreated and accepted with their Eva or the Jessica masks as a temporary abode while the others dug into the mystery Lucy's beta.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe they would take it as weakness if you retreated now. And you do want to get alone with Keith.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111112111
author_id: seuzz
title: In Which Some Other Masks Come Off
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Look, I trust you guys," you tell Philip and Carlos and Mike. It's a lie, mostly, but it's the kind of thing you'll have to say. "Show me that you trust me. Let me hide out as Lucy. I promise I won't fuck up."<br/>
<br/>
The three guys look at each other. It's not hard to see the skepticism in Montoya's face. Hollister, with his tomato-red face and white-blonde eyebrows, looks more freaked out than anything. Fairfax is very sober.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, we'll trust you too," Philip says. "Maria has to be back home soon. What about you guys?" he asks his co-conspirators.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean us girls?" Carlos says it without a snigger. "Yeah, Eva and Jessica have places to be." He casts you another fretful look.<br/>
<br/>
"Stick close to Keith," Philip tells you. "He'll tell you what you should do to keep anyone from thinking there's something funny with Lucy."<br/>
<br/>
"Like, don't grab your boobs and shout 'honk honk' in public," Mike says. You smile sourly at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Stay close to the house," Philip continues. "You'll probably want to talk to Keith anyway. But don't worry too much. It turns out it's surprisingly hard to get people to notice anything weird." He cocks his head. "Did you notice anything weird about Eva and Jessica and Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink. "No, I guess not."<br/>
<br/>
Mike stifles a laugh. "You mean you thought it was totally normal for girls like Cindy Vredenburg to take you shopping and buy you new clothes and invite you to hang out?"<br/>
<br/>
A furious blush breaks out all over your face, and pours down your neck as far as your chest. "No!"<br/>
<br/>
"The point is," Philips says, "at no point did you say to yourself, 'Who are these girls and what have they done with the real Eva and Jessica and Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
You'd like to say that yes, you did. But in thinking back to the very odd events of the past few days, you have to admit that you didn't.<br/>
<br/>
"There, you see," Philip says. "So, answer when someone calls your name, don't make trouble, keep your nose clean until you can start pulling off the impersonation. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He and his friends return the masks to their faces, and because it's kind of creepy being in a bedroom with three unconscious girls, you quietly leave. The door to the room you woke in is closed—Keith must still be knocked out behind it—so you go downstairs and explore the house.<br/>
<br/>
The Vredenburgs are fairly well-to-do, but not obviously better off than you and your family. Their house is about the same size as yours, with the same number of bedrooms upstairs. There is an extra living room of sorts, and behind the kitchen you find steps leading down to a large basement that has been converted into a rumpus room. But whatever Cindy's parents do for a living, they don't make enough to make you feel like a beggar exploring the king's palace.<br/>
<br/>
You're standing at the foot of the stairs with your hands on your hips when there's a thump at the top of the stairs. You look up to find Cindy Vredenburg, her eyes very wide, staring down at you. She glances behind her, then hurries down. "So what's going on?" she hisses.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to stay here," you start to say, "and, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
You have to break off, for your heart has suddenly leaped into your throat and tried to strangle you. The words <i>and become Lucy</i> sound very raw. But it encapsulates the truth. You are going to turn yourself into a sexy, college-age girl that you lusted after hard when you were a sophomore and she was a high school senior who had no idea that you existed. You are going to have luscious legs and amazing boobs and a butt to sink your teeth into.<br/>
<br/>
Or at least your fingernails. In a flash you imagine gripping Lucy's but with Lucy's hands, because it will be your butt and your hands.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm supposed to put on that mask of Lucy," you stammer, and your face feels very hot. "And I'm supposed to stay here until the memories start coming."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy's eyes grow even wider. "They're giving you <i>Lucy's</i> mask?" she squeals. She grabs your arm. "So you're on the team!"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so." And even though Cindy Vredenburg has grabbed you, you pry her hand off because it's like a claw. "They asked me, and I said yes."<br/>
<br/>
A wide grin breaks out across her face. "That's great!"<br/>
<br/>
"It is, isn't it?" you mutter. Anger suddenly boils up. "And if it is—!"<br/>
<br/>
You catch yourself. "Come on." You grab Cindy and haul her through the dining room and out some French doors onto a patio. You wheel on her once you've slammed the door.<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck, dude?" you exclaim. "What the fucking fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"What the fucking fuck-fuck what?" she retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"This!" You throw out your arms at her. "You're up to your fucking tits in this stuff and you didn't tell <i>me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I couldn't! Well, I tried! Sort of!"<br/>
<br/>
"How?"<br/>
<br/>
She steps back and frowns at you.<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't my project," she says. "It's Carlos's book, and Philip is kind of running it. They're the ones who are in charge. I was just around when they started playing with it, so I got into it that way."<br/>
<br/>
"But still, you didn't tell <i>me?</i>" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't my decision! Actually, we <i>tried</i> getting you interested."<br/>
<br/>
"When the fuck did you tell me you had a bunch of magical masks that could turn you into—"<br/>
<br/>
"Quiet, Will!" she hisses, and glances around. "It's a big yard but you got a voice that carries. No, we didn't tell you <i>directly.</i> But we kept trying to get you interested in Mike and Carlos's shit. You know, the videos."<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck do a bunch of retarded movie review videos have to do with <i>this?"</i><br/>
<br/>
Her eyes get very bright as she frowns. "See, this is why we didn't tell you about it. You don't even like Mike and Carlos!"<br/>
<br/>
"I do too! Well, I don't ever talk to them, but they're okay guys."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not interested in them, or else you would have hung out more when I <i>kept trying</i> to get you to do videos and shit with us. That was the point of all those freaking invites! To find out if you actually liked Mike and Carlos and Philip and Josiah, and wanted to hang out with them and be friends <i>even if</i> you didn't know about this shit!"<br/>
<br/>
You fall back, staggered. Because you see now that Keith is right.<br/>
<br/>
Why would these guys tell you anything about this shit if you weren't their friend? So they tested you out, to see if you <i>wanted</i> to be their friend.<br/>
<br/>
And it turns out that you didn't.<br/>
<br/>
Your face falls, and it drags your head down with it.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're in now," Cindy says more calmly. "And try to be friends with them, okay? Don't be that guy who crashes a party and walks around swinging his dick in everyone's faces because he thinks it's <i>his</i> party now.<br/>
<br/>
You bite your tongue and glare at the patio brickwork. "I'm not that kind of guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Not usually." Keith's reply cuts you deeply. "Just let Mike and Carlos and Philip run things. Me and Josiah are just along for the lulz, mostly. You should be too."<br/>
<br/>
You peer up at him, grateful for the chance to change the subject. "The lulz. You mean like you and Seth?"<br/>
<br/>
You mean it as a hard jibe, but instead of blushing furiously, Cindy laughs a little snot out of her nose. <br/>
<br/>
"Isn't that great?" she giggles. "I was totally going to use this thing to break him and Cindy up, but Philip and them said I couldn't do that. They told me I could dick him around though. Break up with him even, as long as I got back together again." She snorts hard with suppressed laughter. "And turns out, torturing him that way is a <i>lot</i> more fun than just breaking up with him would'a been!"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. You can't imagine playing the Molester's girlfriend—if he had one—just for the chance to troll him from behind a mask.<br/>
<br/>
"So what are we doing?" Keith asks. "Are we all going out or something from here? Or are we staying her to talk?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I'm supposed to stay here with you," you say. "The others have to leave, get back to their 'lives'. Hang on," you then add, for one thought will follow on another. "They said something about how they have those robots playing themselves so they can play these girls."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. That was my beta—that's what we call them, Will," she adds with a superior tone, "back at the donut shop."<br/>
<br/>
You resist the urge to reply, <i>And it was just as dorky as you</i>, and instead ask your original question. "So where's my beta?" Your eye narrow. "Or do I have one already?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy's eyes turn shifty. "Don't worry about anyone missing you," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
She swallows. "You don't really want to know, do you? Because everything all good now, isn't it?"<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Into Lucy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Look, just tell me this much," you say. "Do you guys already have a whatchamacallit of me? Out at Carlos's storage place?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy smiles tightly and avoids looking you in the eye. "Yes," she says in a small voice.<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
She seems to vibrate before she replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, we had a mask of you, alright? The guys wanted to test something out, so they made a mask of you. They already knew it would work!" she exclaims after reading the horror that has probably spread over your face. "They wanted to test something out on the mask, and, um, they couldn't use one of theirs!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, do you want to go into all the dumb technical stuff? The point is, they had that mask of you, and it's a really good thing that they did! It's how come you didn't get in trouble with your dad last night!"<br/>
<br/>
The morning's events have completely driven last night's party at the Warehouse from your mind, and it takes you a moment to figure out what he's even alluding to.<br/>
<br/>
"When you told Jessica—that was Carlos—that your dad would be checking up on you, he took your phone and went back to his storage unit. They had your mask there, and also a beta like that one, uh, that's up in Lucy's bedroom. He put the mask on the beta and gave your phone to it, and told it to answer when your dad called and to talk to him like he was watching a movie at Caleb's house. It worked. Your dad doesn't suspect a thing."<br/>
<br/>
"So that was the guy I saw at Carlos's place this morning?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." Cindy combs out her hair with her fingers. "We were all wiped from last night, we didn't get out there in time to turn it off. Turns out your beta's as much of an assful of trouble as you are, Will. It called Keith to talk to him because it got bored. And you were there, which was bad luck, so—"<br/>
<br/>
"So that's the thing you're sending home to be me while I'm—" You gulp again. It's getting no easer to say "being Lucy Vredenburg." Cindy nods. "Is there anything else I should know?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy's mouth says "No" but her eyes say "You have no idea the kind of shit I'm holding back from you." But you decide to let it pass.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," you say. "I guess I've fucked things up enough for you guys." You put your hands on your hips and kick at the patio. "You know all the stuff that Cindy knows? Then how about you tell me something about Lucy."<br/>
<br/>
Keith only has time to say a little before the French doors open, and three girls come out: Eva Garner, Jessica Garner, and Maria Vasquez.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, we're off," Maria says. The normally vacuous cheerleader has a very intense expression on her face. "We need the keys to your truck, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Why? Oh. Right." You dig them out. "Tilley tells me there's a fake me back at Carlos's place." You look at Eva. She points to Jessica, and you follow her finger. "He says you used it to fool my dad last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sorry it went all wonky," Jessica says as she takes the keys. "Are you going to be okay with having it pretend to be you for the rest of the day, maybe tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Better than me just disappearing," you say with a shrug.<br/>
<br/>
There's an awkward pause, and Maria says, "We'll talk later this afternoon." He and the others shuffle back inside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"The thing to remember about Lucy," Cindy says as you follow up the stairs, "is that she doesn't talk much. Well, that's not true. She's a total chatterbox with her friends, and she's full of words when talking about everything wrong with Cindy. At least she hates Seth, so she's got that going for her. God, I think she hates him more than I do."<br/>
<br/>
"How long will it take me to get her memories and stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Couple of hours, at least." She leads you into the fatal bedroom. "Fairfax says it's on account of it takes time to integrilate psychologies, or something like that, but clearly he's just making up shit." He points at the bed where the "beta" is resting: "You'll probably have to spend the night here before they all start coming through, but you might start getting some this evening. Spending the night'll be fun for you, though, you can spend it grabbing yourself all over."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what you did your first night as Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
"God!" She shudders all over. "It was great and gross at the same time, 'cos I kept thinking of all the times Seth had his cock where my fingers were." Her body almost liquefies with another shudder. Then she gets control of herself again. "Of course, you don't want to get caught doing that stuff," she says as she tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear.<br/>
<br/>
You pick Lucy's mask up off the desk, where Fairfax had set it. There's a pile of things in the floor: a jeans skirt, some canvas sneakers, a blouse. You notice now that there's a bra and a set of panties on the beta. "Yeah," Cindy drawls in a way that sounds just like Keith. "We caught her with the blank mask while she was undressing. Had no idea <i>that</i> thing was underneath her."<br/>
<br/>
"What are we going to do with it?" <br/>
<br/>
"Beats the fuck out of me." Cindy takes her phone out. "I'll ask Fairfax, but I bet he'll just tell us to shove it under the bed."<br/>
<br/>
"What happens if we put a mask on it?" you ask. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do with them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right," Cindy says as she taps at her phone. "It'll turn the beta into the person who's in the mask. But it will only obey the person who made the beta. Well, actually, it looks like it has something to do with hair, but the point—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hair?"<br/>
<br/>
"You have to use someone's hair when you're making one. It looks like the beta has to obey the person the hair came from."<br/>
<br/>
"What happens if you put two people's hair in it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dunno. Fairfax is being super-anal about trying out anything the book doesn't tell you to try out, and I guess the book only talks about using the hair of one person."<br/>
<br/>
"Where did he get this book?" You fall quiet as Cindy raises a finger before she resumes typing with renewed concentration. "I'll start getting undressed," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"You know what," Cindy says with a frown as you unzip your pants. "I'm gonna let you do that by yourself. Even a monkey could get in and out of these masks, so you don't need me."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah,</i> you think at her retreating back. <i>If you can figure it out, I can too.</i><br/>
<br/>
You get the rest of your clothes off—and it's only then that you wonder, briefly, what kind of clothes Fairfax and them have for your "beta" to wear—then sit on the floor with the mask in your hands.<br/>
<br/>
It looks like the one that you woke up with on your face. It's white and smooth and not very thick. There are lips and a nose and cheekbones and a brow over deep-set eyes. It doesn't look like the mask of a particular person, but something about the way the light plays over its surfaces gives you the impression that there really is a living face inside it. You raise it up and study it more closely.<br/>
<br/>
From certain perspectives, you finally decide, it does look like there is an image, like a 3D picture, inside the mask, but you can't make it out clearly enough to be sure, still less to recognize the person. You turn the mask over. Here the illusion of three-dimensionality is much more obvious, for the letters of the name inscribed in Roman letters seem to float above the mask. (When you try to slide your fingers between them and the mask, though, find that they really are embedded in the mask.) PENELOPE LUCILE VREDENBURG, they say.<br/>
<br/>
That's who you're going to be.<br/>
<br/>
Just as soon as you put the mask on.<br/>
<br/>
Which you totally are going to do. Any minute now.<br/>
<br/>
When the delay is finally beyond stupid, you shut your eyes and slam the mask over your face.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you are aware of the mask resting against your skin. Then, like giant hand, it seems to grab your face and pull you inside itself ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You groan and lift your head. "Mmph," you say when you lightly bang the back of your head against an unyielding surface. You open your eyes. Hair dangles in your face, and you push it back.<br/>
<br/>
You're in your bedroom; you recognize it easily, though the lights are out and the curtains drawn. You frown and squint at your bare knees, which are bent up near your face. You stretch your legs, catch yourself from falling over, and try to put the pieces back together.<br/>
<br/>
You had come home and gone into your bedroom to change clothes; yours were skanky with sweat and beer and smoke and— You rub your forehead and frown. God, you hope you didn't have any of Ethan's cum on you, but when he came in your face it was like—<br/>
<br/>
You dive forward as something rushes up your esophagus. You catch it in time, though, and force it back down. You choke and cough.<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, you were changing clothes when the door opened, and Cindy and her friends came rushing in. They were grinning like sharks ...<br/>
<br/>
Your whole body seems to levitate. "Holy—!" Again you have to fight an upchuck as you remember who you are, and how you got here.<br/>
<br/>
And then you're trembling as you stretch your legs out, and put your hands on your thigh, and stare down at ... at Lucy Vredenburg's bush. With gritted teeth, you probe inside it. There's a slit there, but no sign of a penis.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111111211111
author_id: seuzz
title: What You Remember
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You would love nothing more than to sit on the floor of Lucy Vredenburg's bedroom and slide Lucy Vredenburg's fingers in and out of Lucy Vredenburg's cunny. <br/>
<br/>
But there's something gone wrong, and you really need to talk to Keith or somebody about it.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, there's nothing wrong with your physical set up, not that you can see. The body appears to be Lucy's. Looking yourself up and down, from you toes to your boobs and elbows, everything is where it should be, and is the way Lucy would remember it, though it's quite a bit grimier than she would like.<br/>
<br/>
But that's the problem: <i>You know what Lucy would expect to see, because you've got her memories.</i> But according to Keith and them, you shouldn't have them, at least not yet.<br/>
<br/>
You stagger over to the closet, where there's a kimono-like dressing gown hanging exactly where you expect to find it. You wrap it about yourself and stumble over to the door. "Cindy!" you call. "Can you come in here please?"<br/>
<br/>
You're leaning against the far wall when Cindy puts her head in. "You ready to move that giant dildo out of your bed?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
You make a face at her. "Do you remember what we were talking about last Tuesday, about Mom's birthday?"<br/>
<br/>
Her faces scrunches slightly with thought. "You mean about those napkin rings?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right. About me killing you if you got them for her."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes." She looks at you expectantly.<br/>
<br/>
"I remember that too," you tell her. "But I thought you said I wasn't supposed to start getting Lucy's memories until tonight."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy blinks. "Well, that's the way it usually works. Sometimes a couple of stray thoughts come in earlier." She cocks her head. "Are you remembering anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Try me."<br/>
<br/>
"When's Dad's birthday?"<br/>
<br/>
"May 3," you reply without hesitation. "No, wait, that's my dad's birthday. July 31."<br/>
<br/>
"What's something you've told me about Seth?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God." You shudder. "I know I've— Lucy has told you she's through buying condoms for you when he should be the one out buying the goddamned things himself."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy catches her breath. "Can you do a handstand?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." You step forward, take a breath, judge the turn, and throw yourself forward with your hands out and up. The world turns upside down, and the hems of your robe fall down around your waist. "Pervert," you gasp from down below, for you've just given Keith an eyeful of your ass.<br/>
<br/>
"Can Will Prescott do a handstand?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott would bust the ceiling lamp with his elbow if he tried doing a handstand." You walk forward easily on your hands, then tip yourself forward back onto you feet in one smooth, flowing motion. "He'd probably fall out the bedroom window, too," you finish while re-settling the robe about you.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude," Cindy says, her eyes wide. "You're already talking like her. Tell me some more about Seth and why I shouldn't be dating him." Her eyes sparkle.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, this ain't no goddam parlor trick, Keith. You guys said I wouldn't get the memories and stuff until tonight. So what are these things I'm remembering?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lucy's memories, I guess," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean those things I remembered are true?"<br/>
<br/>
"Close enough."<br/>
<br/>
You sink onto the bed. "Then we better get Fairfax and them out here. Because I can also tell you where she's been and what she's been doing. And who with." You shiver.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You'll vouch for these memories that Will says he's got?" Maria says. She looks between you and Cindy, as though watching for signs of collusion. Keith nods.<br/>
<br/>
You're all sitting in a circle of the floor of the storage unit that Carlos and Mike use as a studio. Jessica is there to represent both Garner girls; Maria represents both Philip and Josiah, who (you were told at the start of the conference) doesn't much trouble himself with these kinds of business meetings. So the circle is actually more of a slightly lopsided square.<br/>
<br/>
"This is interesting," Maria continues. "I suppose it's a property of Lucy's mask, but we can test for that later. For now— Well, I suppose we just have to go off of what you say you remember. Do you have any idea where Lucy might be?"<br/>
<br/>
"The same place that you put the real Maria and Cindy?" you ask. The suggestion makes you uneasy, for it reminds you of just how much about this stuff you don't understand.<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose it's possible," Maria says after a pause. "Though it would, technically, be a similar place and not the same exact, er, place." She takes out her phone. "And her abductor's name was?"<br/>
<br/>
"Aubrey Blackwell. Spelled like it sounds. Professor of Archaeology at the university."<br/>
<br/>
"Lucy had him for a class?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Anthropology Thirty-Two-Forty-One. Magic in the Western European Tradition."<br/>
<br/>
"And the last time Lucy was ... herself?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>God, you're not sure of that.</i> "The first week of September? Maybe the second?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell again what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and suppress another shudder. You really want to punch Keith in the face. It's a silly thing to want, of course, because it's not <i>his</i> fault you got into Lucy's mask and got her memories and so have to live through it again. But you do resent his earlier smirking talk about "grabbing yourself all over" when you got to be Lucy, and the fun to be had.<br/>
<br/>
"So I had this— I mean, <i>Lucy</i> had to write a paper for this guy's class," you say, and lean forward with your hands burrowed down deep in your lap. "And while we were talking in his office—"<br/>
<br/>
The details of how it happened are no clearer the second time through, and you have to tell Fairfax that you don't know how it happened, only that Lucy found herself walking along with the professor while he kept talking in a very low voice, and got into a car with him, and he talked all the way across town until they came to a villa just off Farm Road near the river, and he talked her into the house and upstairs to a bedroom, where he beguiled her into laying down on a bed, and he put a thing that looked like a mask onto her face ...<br/>
<br/>
And then she woke up. He spoke to her in a rather sharp voice, reminding her that she had to do whatever he told her to do, that she was his "most obedient familiar," and she dutifully agreed. Then she dressed and went back to the college with him, and met some friends for dinner, where she acted as though nothing had happened to her.<br/>
<br/>
But from that point on, she would occasionally get phone calls from the professor. He would summon her to his house, where she would disrobe upstairs in a bedroom decorated like something out of a Chinese whorehouse. Then he would lean over her and pull at her face ... and she would wake on his bed and get dressed and leave, almost always to attend a party. The next day or a few days later, she would return to his house, where she would disrobe and pull at her own face ... and wake to get dressed while the professor stood in a corner of the room and watched.<br/>
<br/>
"He's been pretending to be Lucy," Maria says. "These scenes you describe, they are exactly what it would look like to a beta if the master was sometimes wearing the mask himself, and sometimes putting it onto the beta. The one that's under Lucy's bed now." She pauses. "I suppose it's just our good luck that this Blackwell guy wasn't under the mask when we pulled it off her."<br/>
<br/>
You have to grimace, for you—thanks to Lucy's memories—know what Aubrey Blackwell looks like naked. He's a fat, middle-aged man, hairy all over, with a balding head and a greasy moustache and goatee. It's loathsome to think of him under Lucy Vredenburg's beautiful face, inside her beautiful body.<br/>
<br/>
"So I guess this guy owned the book before we did," Jessica says.<br/>
<br/>
"Stands to reason," Maria says. But then she gets up and leaves the room. Jessica asks a few more questions of you—like, when's the last time you think Professor Blackwell was inside the mask—before Maria returns.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, does, um, Lucy remember seeing anything like this?" She holds up a book.<br/>
<br/>
You rear back.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, Lucy does remember seeing the book, and reading through it. But you do too. It's bound up in red leather with gold thread running through it, and when you take it from Maria and open it, you find the end leaves decorated with faces that seem to alter and shift. You turn a page, and notice a rust-colored smear: a bloody thumb-print.<br/>
<br/>
It's that crazy book you found in Arnholm's, and lost in a scrum with Joshua Call and George Mendoza and a bunch of other bullies. "This is the book that tells you how to make the masks and stuff?" you ask. "Yes, I've seen it. It was at the professor's and once, maybe a day or two after he got Lucy out to his place, she— Except I guess it was him, wearing her mask—" Again you suppress a shudder. "She sat down in this horrible library he has and started reading it and taking notes." You look up. "Where did <i>you</i> get it?"<br/>
<br/>
"From someone at school," Maria says. "He sold it to Carlos."<br/>
<br/>
"What are we going to do?" Jessica says. "Go talk to this professor, tell him we have his book?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will," Maria says, "I'd still like to try out Lucy's mask, on myself and on everyone else, to see how quickly the memories come. I barely had time to put it on earlier before you, uh, came in and caught us. But for now, do you think you could get us into this professor's house?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"His car's not where it's usually parked," you tell the other girls when you drive past the villa—the last place Lucy Vredenburg was seen alive.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111112113
author_id: thrandynamo2
title: Keeping the Company of Facades
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Look" you tell the trio in front you. "I—" you stop yourself short. You were about to say you trust them, but can you really? They have been manipulating your life with this magic, and the only real reason you're in this whole situation to begin with, is because they botched whatever their secret plan was with you. Can you honestly tell yourself your ready to put on one of these 'disguises,' and act like this is somehow normal?<br/>
<br/>
"I...uh...on second thought don't know if I'm really ready to jump into being—" You point at the mask laying on the bed beside Fairfax. "Can I stick with maybe just being me for now?" <br/>
<br/>
You've decided it's best not to directly meddle with their apparent investigation into this 'mystery beta,' till you at least get a better read on them.<br/>
<br/>
The three of them glance at each other for a moment. Mike and Carlos' posture appears to relax while an unfazed Philip returns his characteristic intense gaze to you. "That's perfectly fine, Will," he replies. "This wasn't something we started doing lightly either." <br/>
<br/>
"<i>It is a lot of fun though,</i>" Michael interrupts with as sly grin, "Tell me you didn't enjoy having all the hottest girls at Westside suddenly become your besties." <br/>
<br/>
"Of course he did, who wouldn't?" Carlos joins in. "He was so smitten with our attention, I don't think he stopped to even question why. Now thanks to us, half the everyone at Westside -- <i>Hell-- half the everyone at Eastside</i> now know who is Will Prescott." <br/>
<br/>
"I hope, at very least Will, it is obvious that our intentions with our little social experiment have been altruistic in nature. Albeit, unfortunately deceitful," remarks Fairfax. <br/>
<br/>
You get a tight feeling in your chest. Does any of it matter if it's all built on fabricated lies? Part of you feels deeply betrayed, but strangely another part of you somehow feels, dare say, <i>kind of empowered</i>? As much as you want to, you can't deny this insane apparent experiment of theirs seems to have some how freed you from your past baggage with Lisa, and for a change people have started actually noticing you.<br/>
<br/>
"Beside our current investigation into this Beta, I'd very much like to continue our social experiment, with your permission of course," says Fairfax. But as you're about to reply, the purse on the floor beside him buzzes. He takes out of it an oversized gold clad phone and lets out a small sigh as he unlocks it. <br/>
<br/>
"Maria has to get home soon. Meet back here later this evening?" he asks Michael and Carlos. "We'll move the Lucy beta out to the storage unit then, so we can spend the night figuring it out."<br/>
<br/>
"Cheerleader slumber party?!" Michael beams excitedly as he picks himself back up from his slouch, which causes the bed sheet covering him to very briefly flash the girl clothes he is wearing underneath.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, the purpose will be to get to the bottom of the Beta. One of us will have to sleep with Lucy's  mask on so we can get her full memories," notes Philip. <br/>
<br/>
"Whelp, if Will's not, then I volunteer. <i>Lucy is such a fox,</i>" adds Michael, again with a smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey hey! not so fast there, <i>Dibs</i>! I don't think any of us would mind. But what about the Beta? We aren't going to leave it here unmasked, are we?" Carlos responds. <br/>
<br/>
"For the time being, yes, I think that's best. It seems to be in a comatose state without the mask. I think it's best we stay on the side of caution and only re-awaken it till we have some idea what we're dealing with," affirms Philip, who then looks to you. "Tonight we may need your truck, Will. A helping hand moving it would be immensely appreciated."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh— sure," you nod in agreement. You figure this is may be a good starting point to begin to understand them.<br/>
<br/>
"Well then it's decided. We will meet back here at 8:30 tonight," Fairfax says and starts typing on his phone. "I'll let Shank know. Oh," he adds, and rummages around in Maria's thing. He takes out a phone and hands it to you. "This is yours, I think."<br/>
<br/>
You take it, and feel a little weirded out to be handling something of yours that was handled by a magical robot that looked like you. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The three of them again don their magical masks, and are instantly replaced by the 3 girls whose lives you've learned they've assumed. The transformation has once more left them unconscious, so you decide to quietly exit the room to look for Keith. <br/>
<br/>
A brief glance around the upstairs rooms turns up negative, so you shuffle down the staircase. The Vrendenburg's house is fairly similar to your own, although may be a bit larger. Certainly there is a noticeable effort that someone makes to keep it immaculately clean. <br/>
<br/>
You turn a corner to the kitchen and are briefly stunned by the sight of the gorgeous Cindy Vrendenburg leaning backwards against a counter top, while being fixated to her phone. She's stunningly beautiful, still dressed in the same crisp outfit as when you arrived. <br/>
<br/>
<i>No</i>. You have to remind yourself-- <i>this isn't Cindy. It's really Keith. </i> <br/>
<br/>
She looks up from her phone and shines her big blue eyes on you. "So? What did the guys say?" she causally asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, they said the plan is to meet back here later tonight to move the beta to the storage unit. Uh, and to leave it mask-less for now."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, I guess I'm stuck here then to manage her parents. Don't want them finding the thing," she whines, sounding annoyed. "But what about you? Are you going to pick someone to become?"<br/>
<br/>
Again, you've already decided not to, but the question this time sparks anger inside you. Rashly, you grab her wrist and drag her down stairs to the basement, which appears to be a rec room of sorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude— what the fuck?!" you bark in her face.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck, what?" she counters, looking irritated.<br/>
<br/>
"Why didn't you tell me about all this shit?"<br/>
<br/>
"I tried to, Will. We tried. Those times when we wanted you to come hang out for the movie reviews. That was it. But you were being all anti social and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"And <i>this</i>?!" You motion, flailing your hands at her body. "You're this fucking—"<br/>
<br/>
"I know, <i>isn't it awesome!?" </i>A proud, very Keith like grin, appears on her face. "I'm literally Cindy Vrendenburg right now. I can be her perfectly, and no one can tell the difference! I can even make her say anything I want. Watch."<br/>
<br/>
You shuffle a slight step backwards at that last part of his statement.<br/>
<br/>
She breaks her eye contact with you as she stares at her feet. She runs a hand through her long straight blonde hair, and looks up to you. Her huge blue eyes somehow appear even bigger now, and they sparkle brilliantly. Her expression has entirely changed, it's become a kind of demure shyness, as if she was trying to muster up some amount of courage.<br/>
<br/>
"Will..." she softly says. "I'm really happy you came by today. You see...Seth and I had a fight last night. We have kind of, uh,<i> broken up</i>."<br/>
<br/>
You realize her eyes are sparkling like this because she is on the verge crying.<br/>
<br/>
She shyly looks to the ground again. "Will... I think you're a really sweet guy. I was, um, wondering if you want to, I dunno, maybe go out on a date some time?" She looks back to you, and nervously bites on her bottom lip.<br/>
<br/>
You're completely entranced by her eyes, and you have to swallow hard.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, she starts to giggle, and the mischievous grin returns back on her face.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>See</i>?! Like I said. <i>Anything</i>," she boasts.<br/>
<br/>
You're stunned, or perhaps confused? For a brief moment you were exhilarated, Cindy Vrendenburg just asked you out, but then reality set in. This is just Keith screwing with you.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, you're a real asshole," you sneer.<br/>
<br/>
"Why? You seriously wouldn't want to date Cindy?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, of course I would, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"Omigod Will! I was <i>soo </i>scared you'd say no. We are totally going to have so much fun together!” She launches herself into you with a hug.<br/>
<br/>
You immediately grab her shoulders and push her away. "Dude! Holy shit, stop it! I was about to say <i>but you're not really Cindy.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
She looks up to you with big puppy dog eyes, then bursts into another fit of giggles.<br/>
<br/>
"True. But as far as everyone else at school would be concerned, I am her. And man, just think of what it'd do to your reputation," she smiles and hugs herself, "to have Cindy hanging off your shoulder. It would be perfect for our social experiment."<br/>
<br/>
"And what about Seth? He would be on a warpath."<br/>
<br/>
"I know! That's what makes this such a great idea!" She squeals. “It's a total win-win for both of us!"</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111121131
author_id: thrandynamo2
title: A Manufactured Rebound
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's an undeniable fact that Cindy is insanely gorgeous. Shinning long straight blonde hair, large deep blue eyes, and a face so beautiful that men would wage war for. Her smile alone has left a trail of broken hearts across Westside.<br/>
<br/>
But as you've recently learned, this Cindy is actually your friend Keith, who is now magically disguised as her.<br/>
<br/>
He has just proposed you date 'her' to help boost your popularity. Although you suspect his real intention is to torture his nemesis and tormentor, Seth, whom up to last night at the Warehouse, was Cindy's boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
"So, what do you think?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, are you actually serious? You mean you actually want me to date you?" you rebuke.<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't be dating <i>me</i>, you'd be dating <i>Cindy fucking Vrendenburg</i>. And it wouldn't even really be dating, we'd just make it look we are," she smugly adds. "It's not like we'd have to bang. Although —" she pauses and pouts. "Cindy can be really gossipy about her love life. Maybe that could be to your benefit?"<br/>
<br/>
Her expression morphs once again, and all traces of Keith instantly vanish. "Mindy, listen. Will is really  great. He's super sweet and thoughtful. And, <i>well... Please PLEASE don't tell anyone this, but he's much bigger than Seth,</i>" she finishes with a cute little giggle only to immediately collect herself. "Sorry. I guess I'm getting a bit carried away, huh? It's just that after you do this for awhile, it becomes kind of intoxicating."<br/>
<br/>
You nod cautiously. It's equal parts uncanny and terrifying with how well he can instantly switch to being her.<br/>
<br/>
"Just think, you could totally have any girl you want afterwards!" she gushes.<br/>
<br/>
You ponder his point. Really all this time imposters of Cindy, Eva, and Jessica have been faking their interest in you, all in a crazy experiment to make you more popular. Which surprisingly, has seemed to have worked. His proposition is just as crazy, but could it really pay off?<br/>
<br/>
<i>You suppose that you have already gone this far down the rabbit hole.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Screw it. Sure, why not?" you decide. "You think this can help me get with someone like Kristy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why just settle for Kristy?" she adds with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
You and Cindy return upstairs to the main floor where you find Eva, Jessica and Maria getting ready to leave near the entrance. Of the three impostors, Maria and Eva are having a conversation, while Jessica appears to be checking out her own ass in the entrance way mirror. She's wearing a yellow crop top and pair of almost impossibly tight skinny jeans, with a couple of tasteful rips along the knees.<br/>
<br/>
While she's checking herself out she notices the two of you in the reflection. She turns to you and beams, "Oh Will! Do you think these jeans make my butt look big?" She does a little wiggle of her currently <i>very </i>well defined ass.<br/>
<br/>
"Uhhh," is all you can muster out of your mouth as your heart begins to race.<br/>
<br/>
"Jess, I think you look super cute in them," Cindy cheeringly assures her friend.<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't asking <i>you</i>, Cindy," Jessica glowers back with a touch of annoyance.<br/>
<br/>
Maria brushes some strands of her dark hair behind her ear and steps forward to interrupt, "So Tilley, I imagine Will has filled you in with the plan tonight?" <br/>
<br/>
"Ya... we're moving the Beta to your storage unit later?" answers Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
"Correct," Maria replies. It breaks your brain a little to hear the normal air headed Maria speak with such assertion. "Do you think Cindy's parents will be a problem?" she continues.<br/>
<br/>
"We kind of just left it in your room," Eva adds hesitantly.<br/>
<br/>
“I don't think the rents should be an issue," Cindy casually insists. "Saturday's their date night, so they shouldn't even be here for long. And—" She grabs your bicep and pulls you close. "They've learned to not bother me if I have a boy over."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart races again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
After a round of hugs between the girls, the three other cheerleaders depart out the door, which in turn leaves you alone with Keith in the Vrendenburg residence.<br/>
<br/>
It's eerie once you return to Cindy's room to see the beta that the others have left. It's a pale white, doesn't have any facial features, and it's just laying there motionless in Cindy's bed. One could easily mistake it for a strange looking mannequin, if it weren't for the fact that it appeared to be barely breathing. Thankfully, it's been covered mostly in a blanket.<br/>
<br/>
Despite this 'thing' laying in her bed, Cindy doesn’t appear whatsoever fazed by it. She just plumps herself into a pink tub chair in the corner of her room and begins to casually text. She lets out a little giggle, and a moment later your phone buzzes. It says, 'Cindy Vrendenburg has added you to a group chat.'<br/>
<br/>
"Now that you're on the team, we need to stay in contact," she happily chirps.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Bzzzt</i>. Your phone buzzes again. You get a text in the chat from Eva: "Welcome Will!! Glad you're in on our fun now :)."<br/>
<br/>
You quickly type: "Thx guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Uhhh you mean GIRLS haha," Jessica responds.<br/>
<i><br/>
They even text like they’re in character</i>, you unnervingly think. You place your phone down on the dresser and ignore it as it continues to buzz from the chat.<br/>
<br/>
You look over to Cindy, who is simply sitting and smiling to her phone as she texts away on it. "So, <i>Keith</i>," you sternly stress your friends real name. "How much of you is actually in there right now?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks up to you and you're again reminded just how pretty she is. Her deep blue eyes, gorgeous face, all flawlessly framed in thick sheets of platinum blonde hair. "Don't worry Will, it's still one hundred percent me inside here. But, because of this mask, I have all her memories and even her personality. It feels completely normal to act and even think like her." She smirks and presses her shoulders inward which pushes up her breasts in her blouse. "Everything you see is totally 100 percent real. I'll even let you touch them if you want," she offers casually.<br/>
<br/>
Her voice is soft and sweet, but as much as you really don't want to believe it, it's undoubtedly Keith underneath it all.<br/>
<br/>
You decide not to respond to his offer.<br/>
<br/>
“I know it must be weird, Will. But, like I've been <i>repeatedly </i>trying to tell you—" she flutters her long eyelashes at you. "We can have a ton of fun with these masks."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Not long later Cindy's parents arrive, which prompts Keith to quickly rush to distract them before they can wander into her room. You figure it's probably best you stay by the beta while "she" does her thing.<br/>
<br/>
You overhear Cindy explaining to her parents that she has a guy friend over to help her study for a calculus test, and that she will be sleeping over at Chelsea's house later tonight. To your complete surprise, they seem to be entirely trusting of their daughter, and depart for their night out just as quickly as they arrived. You can't help but feel envious from the freedom she's afforded.<br/>
<br/>
Afterwards Cindy returns and stops at the doorway to her room. "So like-- you okay if we play it that way?" she asks meekly with her hands behind her back.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, play what what way?" You reply genuinely confused.<br/>
<br/>
"Be my calc tutor, you know, to make it plausible and all," she counters in a slightly cutesy voice.<br/>
<br/>
“Make WHAT plausible?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well I'm thinking people wouldn't believe it if you, out of like no where, just started dating Cindy. We can play it off like you have been tutoring me, and things just-- well, <i>you know</i>-- started from there?" she adds coyly, "Unless you have a better idea?" </span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111111211312
author_id: seuzz
title: A Change of Minds
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, we need to make it plausible," you mutter. Your scalp crawls.<br/>
<br/>
"Great!" Cindy chirps. "We'll tell people you were hanging out with Eva and Jessica, and I came along, and I was <i>totally</i> moaning and bitching about calculus, and <i>you</i>"—she snatches up your hand with a giggle—"offered to tutor me."<br/>
<br/>
You yank your hand away. Cindy frowns. "What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will you stop with all this cutesy, freaky flirting?" Your cock is straining against the front of your trousers as Cindy Vredenburg—blonde bombshell cheerleader—pouts at you with saucer-like eyes. "I know who you are, dude, and it's freaking w—"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>have</i> to act like this, Will," Cindy says in a small voice. She puts her hands behind her back. "My parents are home. It's one of the things that Philip really insists on, that when we're around people who know the real girls, that we have to totally act like them."<br/>
<br/>
"Your parents aren't here in the bedroom with us!"<br/>
<br/>
"But we have to be <i>especially</i> careful at home, Philip says. If we drop out of character, even for an <i>instant,</i> we might not be able to get back into it fast enough if my mom and dad come in."<br/>
<br/>
You swipe a hand over your forehead. "Alright, alright. But dude, do you have to turn it up so high? And if you're supposed to be acting like Cindy, would she really be all—" You shudder all over, like gelatin. "All like <i>this</i> with me?" The Cindy Vredenburg you know doesn't even give you a sidelong glance.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe the same thought has occurred to Keith, for he puts his head to one side and studies you.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you're right," he says. All the goop and sugar has drained from his voice. He pushes y back our hat—the stylish leather hat that he and the others bought for you—and brushes your bangs. "You clean up a lot better than I'd give you credit for, Will, but you'd have to be really freaking charming to get Cindy to thaw to you. Tell you what," he continues as you feel your eyes narrowing at the implied insult. "We'll play it just like Cindy would have played it if, you know, you and her really had hooked up in a tutoring thing. So, no kisses or flirty little accidental touching. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck, we don't have to fall over the other way!</i> you want to yell. But with a shrug and a grumble you agree that's for the best.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As a tutoring session, the afternoon is kind of a bust. It's not only that you're seriously distracted by Cindy Vredenburgs breasts, hips, lips, neck, eyes, and hair. You're at best a B-minus student in Calculus, while Cindy's skating along with something like a 92% average, so <i>Keith</i> winds up tutoring <i>you</i> on several points. <br/>
<br/>
By the end of the afternoon, he is a lot chillier toward you than he was before, though he denies it when you call him out on not wanting to be your girlfriend. "It's not that," he insists in Cindy's dulcet tones. "It's so goddamn perfect— Excuse me." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, and when he opens them again it's Cindy looking out at you again, though her expression is grave. "I'm just going to have to do a lot of acting, it seems like. I'm sorry, Will," she says, "but even with your makeover I'm just having a hard time, well, falling for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Thank God, since you're really my friend Keith in a Cindy skinsuit."<br/>
<br/>
She makes a face. "Don't be gross, Will, it's really unattractive. No, I'm talking to you like Cindy would." She straightens out your clothes. "You don't have the right build, for a start. I can forgive Seth for a lot of his shit—well, <i>pfft!</i> Cindy can—on account of what he looks like under his clothes. Although—" She titters. "Even Cindy thinks he's got a face like a horse. But if you're going to really wow her," she continues, ignoring the hot flush you feel washing over your face, "you have to do a lot better in the personality department."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at her for a long moment, then pinch the bridge of your nose. "It's pretty amazing what you can get away with saying when you look like Cindy," you tell Keith. "If you'd said all this about me having a shit body and a shit personality, I'd'a thrown something at your face by now."<br/>
<br/>
She giggles. "It <i>is</i> amazing what a sexy girl can get away with, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Keith does assure you that you <i>don't</i> have a "shit body" or a "shit personality," only one that needs augmenting before Cindy Vredenburg would really pay attention to you, then he shows you to the front door. You point your truck toward home, where you can look forward to a couple of hours of restless inactivity before the "cheerleader slumber party" is supposed to begin.<br/>
<br/>
So instead you drive out to Caleb's.<br/>
<br/>
You did get a text from him earlier—an answer to a text that you sent earlier, right after getting out of The Warehouse—but you ignored it. He doesn't hold it against you, though. He does hold <i>last night</i> against you, however.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, you were out of control," he says after you've said hello to his mom and he's got you back in his bedroom. "Do you even remember what you did?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, some of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you remember telling me to go fuck myself on the ceiling? You weren't even coherent by that point."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, man, I didn't mean it. Did you have fun?"<br/>
<br/>
"As much fun as I could while trying to watch your ass for you. I finally let Eva and Jessica drag me away. Did Marc look after you? They told me he would."<br/>
<br/>
"He got someone else to. But man, I had a wild night. And a wild afternoon today."<br/>
<br/>
"Why, what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I just wound up at Cindy Vredenburg's house, that's all." You grin at him, and waggle your eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
He frowns. Then he points at the door. "Out," he says. "Get out."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck, man?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to hear it. 'The Erotic Adventures of Will Prescott' is not an idea for a comic book movie I want to hear a pitch for."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, I was just tutoring her! In math!"<br/>
<br/>
"And who was tutoring you? And since when is tutoring someone a reason to rush over here and tell me about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It is when it's Cindy Vredenburg!"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly, and this is why I'm throwing you out. Don't take this the wrong way, Will— And you will shut your mouth and not make the obvious comment when I tell you this—" He shove a stiff forefinger in your face. "I don't want to hear about you and your cheerleader girlfriends until <i>I</i> have a cheerleader girlfriend of my own."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Pfnerk!"</i><br/>
<br/>
Caleb seizes you by the shoulder and propels you out of the room. "The only thing that is keeping me from killing you myself," he says as he marches you through the living room, "is the knowledge that <i>Seth</i> will kill you himself. Goodbye, Will. I'll see you Monday." He thrusts you out the front door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb was pretty rude, but he did make a good point at the very end, and it was a point that clarifies some of your own confused feelings about Keith's proposal. You wind up talking about it with Maria Vasquez—a.k.a., Philip Fairfax—after you pick her up for the "slumber party."<br/>
<br/>
"Keith texted me what you and he talked about this afternoon after the rest of us left," Maria tells you. "I have to be honest with you, Will. I have doubts."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Keith told me he was having trouble picturing us together," you mutter back. "I don't have the right personality."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not just that. Have you considered Seth's likely reaction? He doesn't strike me as the sort to just let his girlfriend go, even if she insists on the breakup. There are a lot of ways he could make your life difficult if you're the one who replaces him in, uh, Cindy's affections."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Caleb told <i>me</i> the same thing."<br/>
<br/>
She swing to face you, her mouth open. "You told someone else about what we're doing?" she exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"No! I only told him that I wound up over at Cindy's house. He told me Seth would kill me if he found out. So I guess I'll tell Keith we're broken up even before we start going out," you sigh.<br/>
<br/>
The drive continues in silence until you're almost at Cindy's, where you will be picking up that petrified beta, when Maria says, "There might be a way of handling both problems."<br/>
<br/>
"What problems?"<br/>
<br/>
"What we were talking earlier, Will. Basically, you're not having the right personality to handle Cindy after she's broken up with Seth. We could give you a new personality."<br/>
<br/>
The phrasing jars you even though you have no idea what he means. "The fuck do you mean, 'giving me a new personality'?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean that there's a way of giving you an internal makeover, like the rest of us have gotten an external makeover. You know that we have the personalities that go with these feigned exteriors. What I mean is," she adds after looking over at your frown, "we have their brains inside us too. Memories, personalities, talents, character traits. You don't have to wear a mask to get these. There is a way of giving you someone else's personality traits while leaving you externally unchanged. Oh, and you'd still have your own, of course, just as we still have our own."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, Fairfax is still definitely Fairfax, even if he does look like Maria.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div> It's an idea the others like too, after you've talked over with them at Carlos's studio: Give you a personality that can withstand Seth and would look plausibly attractive to Cindy. But whose? After long discussion, the consensus settles on four candidates.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111112113121
author_id: seuzz
title: Enigmatic Antecedents
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>They all think it's a grand idea: Giving you another personality to help you combat Seth for the affections of Cindy. Philip suggests copying the brain of Steve Patterson, the number two man on the basketball squad: "If anyone can stand up to Seth, it's Steve." Keith proposes that you "fight fire with fire" by using Seth's own personality.<br/>
<br/>
But Mike and Carlos suggest the name that you ultimately choose: Marc Garner, the brother of Jessica and Eva. "It'd be super easy for us to score a copy of his brain for you, Will," giggles the one dressed out as Eva. (You've lost track of which one is which.) "He sleeps in the bedroom next to ours."<br/>
<br/>
"And I think he'd suit you," says Jessica. She looks you up and down with a critical but admiring eye. "He's pretty casual about things, but guys know better than to fuck with him."<br/>
<br/>
You're about to retort something about how he's got more upper-body strength than you, too, but Eva knocks you sideways when she says, "Just don't flirt with us anymore. It'd be super-squicky if you did, knowing that you've got our dear brother's psychology up there with you." <i>Yikes.</i><br/>
<br/>
"It's settled, then," Maria says. "I'll have a memory strip for you tomorrow," she tells the pseudo-Garner girls. "Keith, I suggest you not break up with Seth until we've rigged Will out with it."<br/>
<br/>
"I already broke up with him!"<br/>
<br/>
Jessica titters. "Keith, you've broken up with him twenty-nine times since you started going out with him. So you'll make up with him again and break up a thirtieth time." Cindy folds her arms and returns her a haughty shake of the head.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so much for that," Maria says. "Let's see what we've got here." She turns to the thing that you drove out here in the bed of your truck.<br/>
<br/>
It had been real trick getting it out of the Vredenburg's house. The parents were home when you and Maria arrived, and the only way to smuggle it out was wrapped in a blanket with some clothesline wound about so it wouldn't come uncovered. You grunted and strained with one end of it, while Cindy and Maria struggled with the other; Mr. Vredenburg offered to help, but you only let him hold the door open as you carried it out. As for what <i>it</i> was, Keith thought really fast and told him Cindy's dad was an "art project" that Seth had left behind that she was throwing out on account of she was mad at him.<br/>
<br/>
It—what the others had discovered under a mask of Lucy Vredenburg—is a whitish thing about the size and shape of a person, for it has stumps where legs and arms might go, and the potato-shaped lump at one end is sort of like a head. Philip had called it a "beta", a thing like a mannequin, on which one can hang a mask, turning it into a docile copy of the person who had been copied into the mask. "We've got one of our own in the other storage bay," he says. "I have no idea where this one came from, or how it got under a mask of Lucy."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know where the mask of Lucy came from, either," Jessica says. She looks up at Cindy. "Keith?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is there anything you want to confess?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy gasps. "Are you accusing me of—?"<br/>
<br/>
"All the masks are accounted for," Maria says. "And it takes a lot of effort to make a beta. You know that, Carlos. None of us are guilty of this." A silence falls briefly over the group before Maria resumes. "So I guess I should get into that mask of Lucy. It's the only place we can look for answers."<br/>
<br/>
"That'll take all night!" Jessica exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
Eva laughs. "That's why we're having a slumber party!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm thinking I should spend the night with you, Keith," Maria tells Cindy. "Lucy is, uh, your sister, and she should spend at least some nights at home. Doesn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fifty-fifty," Cindy says with a shrug. "Mom and Dad are wondering where she is, seeing as her SUV is in the driveway."<br/>
<br/>
"Why haven't they texted her?" Maria takes out a cell phone. "I took it with me in case they did."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy makes a face. "They wouldn't ask her where she is. Ignorance is bliss. Didn't she get any other texts?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah, lots. But I ignored them. I wouldn't know how to sext back. So I'll get changed in the other bay," he adds as a couple of girls (and yourself) choke a little, "and put Maria's mask onto our beta. That way she doesn't disappear." She exits the studio. A few seconds later there's the rattle from outside of a sheet-metal door being lifted.<br/>
<br/>
Her exit leaves the rest of you at a bit of a loss. "I guess the slumber party's off?" Eva says.<br/>
<br/>
"It was never on, sis," Jessica grunts. "You wanna head over to Kelsey's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Meh. We hit The Warehouse last night, I'd just as soon stay in. Unless you want to go back out there."<br/>
<br/>
"Marc'll be at Kelsey's. He never gets tired, <i>and</i> he never misses a chance to get stoned."<br/>
<br/>
There's a little more desultory talk about possible party plans, which segues into talk about how they will score you this "memory strip" of Marc Garner, which segues into a semi-enthusiastic account of what you'll find after you've married his mind with yours: <i>He's a high-functioning stoner, basically and he's getting blowjobs from Hannah Westrick, at least you'll his memories of those, and just remember that Marc is still basically eight years old only he knows how to fake being eighteen.</i> <br/>
<br/>
And while they're telling you this, Lucy Vredenburg comes in.<br/>
<br/>
Every cell in your body goes on high alert. That hair, those boobs, that scent, that wobble in her hips that says, <i>I'm luscious, I'm fertile, and I love a good fuck.</i> You feel like you could sink your fingers into her up to the knuckles.<br/>
<br/>
"Would it be weird if I spent Saturday night at home?" she asks Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. But just tell mom and dad you had a fight with one of your girlfriends and you need a night to cool off."<br/>
<br/>
"Has she used that excuse before?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. But she's always bitching to me about her fights with her girlfriends."<br/>
<br/>
Lucy nods. "Let's adjourn then."<br/>
<br/>
"Jeez," Cindy mutters as she leads her reincarnated sister out of the bay. "Just don't use words like 'adjourn', okay? Stick to 'Bite me', 'Fuck you', 'Hey shit for brains get out of the goddamn road if you're not gonna use it' ... " Her voice trails off down the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves you alone with the Garners. After an awkward minute, Jessica suggests you hang out with them until your curfew, if you've got nothing else to do.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You all wind up at Carl's Jr., which is nearby and unlikely to be frequented by people you'll run into. In fact, there is a cluster of high school students at a table in the corner, but none of you recognize them, so it's likely they go to Eastman. You do catch them scoping out the Garners of course. And after you're seated with your food—<br/>
<br/>
"Jeez, Will, did you catch those two girls totally checking you out?" Eva giggles.<br/>
<br/>
"She's too diplomatic to mention the one guy who was ogling you," Jessica adds with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"No! Shut up. They were all checking <i>you</i> out."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, dur!" Eva plunges a straw into her diet drink. "But you need to get used to it too. Once you get Marc's brain mixed up in yours, you'll get even more attention."<br/>
<br/>
"Why, I'm not gonna look like him!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but you'll carry yourself more like him," Jessica says. "Girls notice that kind of thing, that kind of confidence. You hunch over too much, Will, and you walk like a scarecrow on a pogo stick."<br/>
<br/>
"I do not!"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll see. You get any texts from any girls about Friday night?" She grins and nibbles on a French fry.<br/>
<br/>
You hang your head. When you checked your phone after church, it nearly exploded with text messages from girls you barely knew or never heard of. You've been trying not to think about them or what you're going to do about them. <br/>
<br/>
So you change the subject. "What do you think the deal is with Lucy? What's going on there?"<br/>
<br/>
Their faces tighten, but neither one says anything. You have the impression they're very troubled by the discovery, and are at a loss.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll know more tomorrow, after Philip can fill us in," Jessica says.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone clearly owned the thing before us," Eva says. "They're the ones who did it."<br/>
<br/>
"What thing?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Jessica grimaces. "The thing that lets you make these masks."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a book," Eva says, and ignores the glare that Jessica has shot her. "Got all kinds of spells and stuff in it. So it stands to reason that whoever owned the book before is the one that made that beta."<br/>
<br/>
"Who was that?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me," Jessica says.<br/>
<br/>
"You told us you bought it off George Mendoza," Eva retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but <i>he</i> didn't make that beta. You think he would'a sold me the thing if he knew what he could do with it? Fuck!"<br/>
<br/>
They both nod and continue to talk. But you're lost in memories and concerns of your own.<br/>
<br/>
George Mendoza was one of the bullies who took that weird-ass book off you, the one that you found at Arnholm's Used Books. He was also the one who told you that he sold it. And that book had promised something about showing how to make magical disguises, like the ones that Carlos and Mike are currently wearing.<br/>
<br/>
It's been in the back of your mind all this time, that there was a connection between these guys and that book you found. But this now confirms it.<br/>
<br/>
Do you tell them you used to own that book?</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111121131211
author_id: seuzz
title: Dark Histories
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"This book you're talking about," you say. "Is it about this big—?" You outline a shape in the air with your hands. "With a red cover, like leather, and gold letters?" You cast your mind back, trying to remember the weird book you found in Arnholm's. "And the pages wouldn't open? They were stuck together?"<br/>
<br/>
Jessica in particular is giving you a hard, wide-eyed stare. "Yeah, did Philip show it to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I think it used to belong to me."<br/>
<br/>
Hoarse laughter from the high school students on the other side of the restaurant fills the silence that descends on your table.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you stammer as the girls stare at you. "Um. I found this book at the used bookstore. It was cheap because it was like the pages were glued together or something. Anyway, I brought it in to school to show to show to people, but I ran into Mendoza and some of his friends and they wound up taking it off me. I know that Mendoza had it, or he's the one that wound up with it, 'cos I tried getting it back from him and he told me he sold it to someone. He didn't tell me who."<br/>
<br/>
Jessica and Eva look at each other, and skepticism shows on their faces. "Did you, uh, do anything with it?" Eva asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I was kind of freaked out because the first page in it said something about giving it blood. But it was talking about how to make disguises and—"<br/>
<br/>
You trail off, for the girls are exchanging another look, and this time the skepticism has vanished from their faces.<br/>
<br/>
Jessica lets out a breath as she leans back in her booth. "Why didn't you tell us this before, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, all this stuff is new to me! I just found out this morning that you guys aren't, um—" <i>Yeah, it's been a day that has just been packed.</i> "It was just now, when you started talking about a book being the thing you were using, that I made a connection. The book I bought, I thought it was just, like, some crazy joke. I haven't even really thought about it much since Mendoza took it off me." That's a little bit of a lie, but near enough the truth that it doesn't bother you.<br/>
<br/>
Carlos asks you to tell him from the top all about your history with the book, but you can do little more than repeat what you told him: You got it from the used bookstore, lost it to Mendoza, and then Mendoza apparently sold it to him. "I spent about ten minutes looking at it, that's all," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Who would sell that kind of a book to a used bookstore?" Eva wonders aloud.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone who didn't know it was legit," Jessica replies. She glances at you. "Like Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>somebody</i> was playing around with it before then."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," Jessica says. "I hope Philip can tell us who it was." You feel her eyes straying toward you through the rest of the meal, and you can tell that Carlos is thinking about how to tell Philip what you told him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have your cell phone turned off until after church the next day, so it's not until twelve-ten that you find the text from Lucy Vredenburg asking if you can get together with the group . And because you're having lunch with your aunt and uncle, it's not until one-thirty that you're able to drive out to Carlos's studio. The others—this time including Chelsea Cooper—are already there. They look very sober, but there's nothing in their manner to suggest they're angry at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Take a seat, Will," Lucy says. She speaks in the same cool, business-like manner as Maria Vasquez. "I suppose we should catch you up with everything. The long and the short of it is that we now know where our magical grimoire came from and how it came to us."<br/>
<br/>
"Carlos told you about, um—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your brief ownership of it? Yes. But we've got a pretty good idea of how it got to you, too. There's a professor out at the university who used to own it. When did you find the <i>Libra</i> in the bookstore?"<br/>
<br/>
"The what?"<br/>
<br/>
"The book. <i>De Libra Personae,</i> as near as I can tell, is the correct translation of the title."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Um. A couple of weeks ago? Somewhere in the middle of September? Maybe?"<br/>
<br/>
Lucy thinks a moment, then nods. "The dates line up. It's around that time that I think Professor Blackwell noticed that the <i>Libra</i> was missing."<br/>
<br/>
The story that Philip relates is gruesome, and made more gruesome by the fact that it so closely resembles the story that he and his friends are acting out. Early in September, Lucy Vredenburg was abducted by university professor named Blackwell and apparently replaced with a beta—a beta whom the professor occasionally impersonated in the same way that your friends are impersonating members of the cheerleading squad. Only days after making the replacement, however, it seems that the professor lost the <i>Libra</i>—and then you picked it up in the bookstore.<br/>
<br/>
There are many mysteries that he cannot answer, though, even with the memories inside Lucy's mask. Where is the real Lucy Vredenburg? What was the professor trying to do? And did he make any more betas?<br/>
<br/>
It's the latter that worries Keith the most. "What if our parents are betas too?" he squeals. "Oh my God!" He tugs and worries at the long sheets of platinum hair he has stolen from Cindy. "What if <i>everyone</i> in that house is a beta, or a fake? What if my <i>mom</i> is this professor? I'm not going back there!"<br/>
<br/>
"I saw nothing to indicate that the professor infiltrated the household further than Lucy," Lucy declares.<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't see what he did before he replaced Lucy! And if he made any more masks—!" Keith gasps hard and grabs Lucy by the arm. "Oh, fuck! He could be duplicating everyone at the university! Or at Westside! Fuck, <i>anyone—!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"He can't make any more masks, Will," the faux-Lucy says, prying her faux-self free of her faux-sister's clutching hands. "You have to have the <i>Libra</i> in order to make masks and betas."<br/>
<br/>
"But if he copied down the recipes—!"<br/>
<br/>
"It wouldn't work. Each spell comes with a sigil that has to be used to complete the spell. If you don't have the book you don't have the sigil, and then you can't complete the spell."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he made up thousands of masks and betas before he gave it away!"<br/>
<br/>
"Calm the fuck down, dude," Jessica tells him. To Lucy: "What are we going to do? Just ignore this guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think we can," Lucy says. "He's been impersonating Lucy off and on since losing the mask, as recently as last Thursday." Keith utters a shrill <i>Eep!</i> "He will expect Lucy's beta to return at some point," Lucy continues as she pulls at her lower lip, "and when he resumes her identity he will gain access to the memories we have since put into her mask, including the memories of this conversation."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't we just make Lucy disappear?" Keith asks.<br/>
<br/>
Lucy gives her a look. "That would be pretty awful for her and her family, wouldn't it? No, we're going to have to do something about this professor. He has a beta of himself that he sometimes sends out, the way we have betas of ourselves out there. If we could get into that mask of himself, learn about him, then we would be better informed as to whether we should approach him in a spirit of cooperation or of antagonism."<br/>
<br/>
"And how do we do that?" Eva drawls.<br/>
<br/>
"We break into his house and search it," Lucy says after a moment's thought. "We can do that sometime this week while he is teaching.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A lengthy discussion follows as to how to manage the break-in. It is decided that a group of you will go in—three or four of your six; more than that, Philip fears, would be an unmanageable mob—and that you cannot go in under your own faces nor in the guise of your own impersonations. Instead, the raiding party will use masks of select classmates—burly males from the football or wrestling squad, likely.<br/>
<br/>
And with that settled, work begins. Philip's immediate job is to purchase additional supplies, and he asks you to accompany him.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't take this the wrong way, Will," he says after you're buckled into Lucy's SUV. "You're a full-fledged member of the club, as far as we're concerned. But you can sit this one out if you want."<br/>
<br/>
The offer surprises you, and insults you a little too. "Why's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you really haven't taken the plunge. I have the impression you don't want to. What I mean," he continues, talking over your protests, "is that it's like you're doing everything you can to avoid participating. You didn't want to put on a mask when we offered to get you one, and you gave the <i>Libra</i> away almost as soon as it crossed your palms."<br/>
<br/>
You mumble something about being freaked out by it.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. You don't seem <i>enthused,</i> so if you want to sit things out, we'll understand."<br/>
<br/>
You fold your arms and bite your tongue. For the rest of the trip, you and Philip only talk about the items on his shopping list.<br/>
<br/>
There's a stink in the hallway when you get back to the storage complex, and you assume Jessica is trying to get away from it when she asks you to accompany her outside. But she's got something else on her mind.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude," she says, "Keith is really freaking out about going home as Cindy. Would you be up to swapping out places with him? You be Cindy and maybe he can be you?"</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111111211312112
author_id: seuzz
title: Face Facts
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I guess I could take over for Keith," you tell Carlos. "But I was planning on going with you guys on this raid."<br/>
<br/>
"You were?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that a problem?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's just a surprise," he says. "Tell you what, I'll talk it over with Philip. There's other ways of handling Keith." <br/>
<br/>
He turns away, then turns back around with a grunt. "Here," he says, taking a shiny metal strip from his pocket. "I forgot to give this to you earlier."<br/>
<br/>
"What is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a copy of my dear brother's brain." Carlos gives you one of Jessica Garner's cheekiest smiles.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a metal strip a few inches long and about an inch wide. It's flexible and bends easily without creasing, and over one side of it float large blue letters like a hologram. MARC DAVID GARNER, they say.<br/>
<br/>
"Just put it on your forehead," Philip tells you later when you catch up to him. "Make sure you're laying down, because it will knock you out for about ten minutes. When you wake up, you'll have his memories and a whole bunch of other stuff."<br/>
<br/>
That sounds very weird, and you ask him how weird it's going to be. "You'll get used to it," he says. "It may be a little disorienting at first, but you'll get it sorted out. I don't know how to describe it," he continues as you frown at him. "Just trust me that it's not <i>that</i> weird. You don't have anything to worry about."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Uh huh,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
That's at the tail end of your stay at the storage complex; there's nothing else for you to do to help, so you go home shortly afterward. Philip says that he and the others will figure out a way to handle Keith and Cindy. "We'll also take care of getting you a mask to use when we go out to the professor's. We're better suited for it," he says, and tosses Lucy's hair behind his ear.<br/>
<br/>
So by four o'clock you're home again. You hide Marc's "memory strip," as Philip calls it, under your mattress, and finally get started on the weekend's homework.<br/>
<br/>
But along about seven you get a text from Keith asking you to meet him at the closest McDonald's for a talk. <i>which tilley is this?</i> you text back. <i>the real me,</i> he says. <i>how do i know?</i> you challenge him. <i>fuck you,</i> he replies. That's not good enough, but you do meet him. He's in his own face again.<br/>
<br/>
"So I'm back to being myself," he moans. "God, I feel ugly."<br/>
<br/>
"You look ugly."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's all relative. When was the last time you were, uh—" You look around. "Outside of Cindy's skin?" you ask in a very low voice.<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face. "Seems like forever. It's not a good idea getting out of the masks. You lose the memories and stuff almost instantly, and it takes hours and hours to get them back when you put the mask back on. Oh, by the way, did Carlos give you the thing for Marc?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'll put it on tonight. So what happened to Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's complicated. Basically, that mask I was wearing? We put it on her."<br/>
<br/>
You blink. "How does that work? You disguised her as herself?"<br/>
<br/>
"More or less."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean that's the real Cindy out there now?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she's her own beta. I told you, it's complicated. So why didn'cha put Marc's thingummy on this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lucy— Philip," you correct yourself, "told me it would knock me out. I figure I'll wait till I go to bed."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that makes sense. And you're going with them out to that professor's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. You?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah." Keith hunches in his seat. "Philip and Carlos and Mike are running things. I figure they can run that thing too." He rubs his arm. "This thing is getting too intense for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, so it was fun when you were just pretending to be a cheerleader, but when the shit hits the fan—"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, man. I ain't scared. It's just Philip and them only want to take four guys along, and you're the fourth."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "A minute ago you said it was because they were in charge and they could do their own dirty work," you remind him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I got lots of reasons to stay in the rear. But they're gonna bring you a mask, huh? Bet they bring you one of Marc to go with the hoobity-jooby, so you can <i>be</i> him if you want. Mike and Carlos been talking about that, how it'd be perfect if someone rigged himself up to be Marc so they'd have three of a kind out there. But no one's real hyped to go sliding their dick inside of some other dude's."<br/>
<br/>
"No, you guys just want to slide it up inside a pussy."<br/>
<br/>
"Damn right. <i>Fuckin'</i> right." Keith bobs his head. "Word. But I told Fairfax he should try to get a copy of Seth into one of those masks," he continues as you roll your eyes again. "Beside his meat sack being a good choice to wear if you're gonna go busting in on someone, it might be fun having it on hand if we want to make trouble for him. You know, send a doppelganger out to make trouble for him." You agree it might be useful. "I'll mention it to them, then."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said you already did."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll <i>emphasize</i> it, then," he says as he pops the last nugget into his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So, all in all, he hasn't got a lot to say, and pretty clearly only wants to hang out with you because he's lonely and freaked out to be himself again. You keep him company until a little after nine, then plead that you've still got homework to do. "I'll see you at school tomorrow," you promise him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and shoot me the face, it really is gonna be me," he says with the same mournful expression as when he greeted you.<br/>
<br/>
You wind up staying up past midnight to finish your schoolwork, and your eyes are heavy when you crawl into bed after brushing your teeth. Almost you forget about the memory strip, but remember in time to dig it out. You finger it for a few minutes as you anticipate what is to come, then press the strip to your forehead.<br/>
<br/>
It's likes someone has set an anvil on your head. It crushes your skull, falls through the bed, and drags you along as it plunges into the dark, hot earth below.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's dark when you wake, but that doesn't surprise you. What does surprise you is that your cell phone isn't where it's supposed to be when you grope for it. You flip over and stare at the ceiling, trying to wake up. <i>Fuck it,</i> you finally decide. <i>If I fall asleep on the floor doing my stretches, then I'll fall asleep in the floor. Maybe I'll find my phone under the bed,</i>you add as you roll out from under the sheets.<br/>
<br/>
It's after you've stretched your quadriceps and are bending forward to grasp your toes that you first notice something is wrong. The muscles in your back and legs are way too tight—you can barely reach your toes, let alone grasp them. You suck in a breath with a hiss and try again. <i>Dammit!</i> You fall back and stare again at the ceiling. <i>Why are things so weird?</i> You must have had strange dreams; it feels like someone opened your skull and turned your brain back to front. It's getting late, too; there's a glow on the ceiling from the morning light. You clamber to your feet to shake yourself loose—<br/>
<br/>
And that's when you discover that you're not in your bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
You wheel around in shock, trying to place yourself. The adrenaline hits you—<br/>
<br/>
And thank God it does. You double over as the sluice gates of memory open and overwhelm you with another personality ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Eva Garner is waiting next to the gym as you come sauntering out of the student parking lot at 8:05. She grins at you. "How are you doing, Will?" she asks, and rubs her forehead with a forefinger.<br/>
<br/>
"Doin' great, now. Freaked myself out hard when I woke up in a strange bed, but I got it sorted out."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." She bites down a smile. "How is it?"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your shoulders in a shrug. "Like looking at a magic-eye puzzle." You glance around. "The world looks one way, then you tilt your head and it looks like something. Hey, Blake!" you shout at a burly guy in a red t-shirt who's loping over. It's the football player who rescued you from The Warehouse Saturday morning. To Eva you murmur, "You guys copy anyone last night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Marc and Seth," she murmurs back. "Gonna get two more today. Have any preferences?" But she falls silent as Blake draws up.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey man," Blake says. You exchange a series of complicated hand-slaps that would be cryptic to you but are second nature to Marc. "Didn't kill yourself getting home, I see."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit," you reply. "I got home, took a twenty minute nap, hit the shower, was stoked for another party. Whadja do Saturday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Partied. I was off-duty. You didn't come in."<br/>
<br/>
You poke your tongue in your cheek and grin at Eva. "I had a coupla dates," you tell Blake. He guffaws. <br/>
<br/>
Eva crimsons, says, "I'll see you later," and strides down the breezeway toward the main building. You stare at her butt until she disappears inside.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you got any fuckery planned for after school?" you ask Blake. You mime taking a hit off a joint. "I'd be up for a thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Not sure. Talk to me in English, come find me after eighth. What've you got last period?"<br/>
<br/>
"Phys— Astronomy," you correct yourself; it's Marc who has AP Physics II. "You?"<br/>
<br/>
"Practice. Come look for me in the gym, we'll figure something out."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool." You clap him on the arm—<i>how strange it seems, but also how natural</i>—and follow Eva inside.<br/>
<br/>
As you head to the library, you think about possible faces to use for the upcoming raid.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111112113121124
author_id: seuzz
title: Mind and Muscle
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a day of small but pleasant surprises for you, mostly to do with the people who come up to talk to you. Most of them are girls following up on the text messages they sent you on Saturday, and you feel yourself glinting at them as you chat and promise to "catch up" with them later. A few are guys—wrestlers and football players—who are checking in on you the way Blake did to see how you're doing; these guys you also make vague plans with for hanging out.<br/>
<br/>
The only real unpleasantness comes last period, when you're jolted by a hard-edged "Will!" when you saunter in to Astronomy.<br/>
<br/>
It's Stephanie, and her eyes are gem-hard. Yet she doesn't frighten you, no more than Erik Carstairs frightened you when he grabbed you by the back of your neck in the hallway and asked how the fuck you were doing. "Hey, yeah?" you reply as you go over to her desk. Your limbs dangle loosely at your side.<br/>
<br/>
"You not get my text or are you just blowing me off?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, jeez!" You pinch the bridge of your nose: Stephanie was one of the girls who texted you Saturday with a request to meet up with you on Sunday. "Last minute thing came up Sunday afternoon," you tell her, "totally blew all my plans outta the water. I haven't been able to catch up with <i>anybody</i> since then."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh? Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I had to go out and meet Eva and Jessi—"<br/>
<br/>
You physically flinch at the rush of Marc's memories: Eva and Jessica and Stephanie playing at your house from the time they (and you) were all eight years old. You chasing Stephanie and her chasing you; getting into soccer because of her; playing soccer against her and your sisters; feeling disappointed when she dropped soccer for basketball. So strong are the impressions—<br/>
<br/>
Particularly the one of Stephanie tripping and falling on top of you in a grassy field while you were kicking a ball around in the ninth grade. The feel of her body resting on yours— The scent of her hair and skin— The warmth in your cheeks— The rush in your shorts— The embarrassment of trying to talk to her afterward.<br/>
<br/>
—that for a moment you <i>are</i> Marc David Garner, and you quail at the implication in your smile that you were off fucking around (and maybe fucking) your sisters.<br/>
<br/>
"—Uh, Jessica," you stammer as you grab control of your mind and personality again. "And Cindy and her sister," you add.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. So are you going to blow off Kristy?" Stephanie's eyebrows go up, and a canine shows in her smile.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Kristy?</i> Oh, shit! <i>Kristy Suffolk,</i> who you danced with at the Warehouse after your friends set it up with you. And she's a friend of Stephanie's!<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm not blowing her off," you stammer. (Marc's personality is of no help; he's not the kind to blow off girls, and the Marc Garner inside your head is as embarrassed as you are.) "I was talking to Eva and Jessica about her. Uh, you know." You jerk your shoulders in a shrug.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie's eyebrows lift even higher. "Oh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Um. I'm not blowing her off."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, don't take long before talking to her, or she's gonna think you <i>are</i> blowing her off. So will I," she adds.<br/>
<br/>
You can think of no retort to that that won't make you sound like an asshole, so you smile tightly at her and nod and retreat to your own desk.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Kristy Suffolk,</i> you think. If Keith can't get things worked out with Cindy, then Kristy would be your second choice for a girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't send her a text, though. You do send Blake a text—you got his number from him in the English class that (it turns out; you never paid much attention to the other side of the room) you share with him—telling him something came up and you'll talk to him tomorrow about "stuff." It vexes you a little to give him what feels like a blow off: It would be way cool and really boost your cred if you started hanging out with the football guys. But Eva came and found you during your seventh period study hall to say that Philip wants everyone out at the storage unit immediately after school.<br/>
<br/>
"Keith and Josiah have gone up to the university to keep an eye on that professor, try to delay him if they can," Philip explains when you and Jessica and Eva are inside the studio. You drove the girls out, which is an echo of someone else's life, for Marc is usually behind the wheel when the triplets drive to and from school. "The rest of us will hit his place." To the girls he says, "You got the masks? I'll finish them up while you two change." He's already divested himself of Lucy's mask and is dressed in floppy, extra-large shorts and t-shirt. He gestures you to follow him into the other bay, where Carlos has his exercise equipment.<br/>
<br/>
"I assume you'll want to put on Marc's mask," he says as he pulls two bluish masks from Eva's backpack. "It's over there." He points to the workout bench, where two other masks are sitting.<br/>
<br/>
"Who else have we got?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He looks up in surprise. "Seth for one," he says. "And Josiah got us a copy of Gordon, and Mike got us a copy of Jeremy Richards."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jeremy? Yych!</i> He was a friend of yours in middle school, before he turned into an asshole. You don't have to ask how Josiah (as Chelsea Cooper) got a copy of Gordon Black (Chelsea's hulking boyfriend), but you do ask how Eva got Jeremy, and why. "They went out a couple of times," Philip tells you. "Mike pretended he wanted to get affectionate at lunch."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Double yyyycchh!</i> "Lemme have Gordon's mask."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
It was instinct that moved you, and it takes you a moment to find and articulate your intuitions. <br/>
<br/>
"Gordon's the biggest guy in school, right?" you tell him when they come. (Black, the captain of the basketball squad, is six-and-a-half feet of hard muscle.) "I got Marc's brain in me. He'd know how to use Gordon's body if we got into trouble, which would make him the best one to drive that dump truck around." You shrug. "No offense, but I'm not sure the rest of you do."<br/>
<br/>
Philip's eyes widen. "That's ... actually a really great point." He hands you a mask. "I think this is Gordon's. There's some workout clothes in that bag over there." He points to a paper sack. "I went shopping today. I hope they're big enough for Gordon's frame."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Those shorts don't leave a lot to the imagination," says a guy who looks like Marc Garner as he eyes you with a skeptical glance. The shorts you're wearing do ride quite high on your tree-trunk thighs.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up man, before I kick your ass."<br/>
<br/>
Marc looks up to meet your gaze. It won't put a crick in his neck, but he definitely can't look you in the eye.<br/>
<br/>
It's funny, looking down at Marc Garner and Seth Javits from the top of Gordon Black's long legs and brawny torso. It's like standing in a cluster of twelve-year-olds; or as if they (and the rest of the world) had got hit with a shrink ray. You assume that Gordon knows how to move his bulk around a world that is built for people considerably shorter than him; for you and Marc Garner, it's like walking around in a theme park for short people. Jeremy, though, is close to your borrowed body in height; and looking him in the eye is a little like being back in middle school with him, before a growth spurt led him to think he could have a career as a jock and a jerk.<br/>
<br/>
At least the guy wearing his face hasn't got Jeremy's personality. The others probably think it's a mercy you've borrowed Marc's cheerful personality and not Gordon's brutish one. <br/>
<br/>
And who is beneath which mask? You are pretty sure it's Philip in Marc's mask, Carlos in Seth's, and Mike in Jeremy's, but you're not certain. And for the sake of "security," Philip insists that you call each other only by the names that go with your external faces. So:<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon, are you going to be able to drive?" Marc asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I can fit in the cab. Fuck, Gordon drives a VW Bug."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mean that. You're going to have to go barefoot." No one's shoes will fit either Gordon's or Jeremy's giant feet, but Jeremy has got his feet into the one pair of flip-flops that Philip thought to buy. <br/>
<br/>
It doesn't really matter to you, so you accede when Seth volunteers to drive. After locking up the storage bays, you all go outside. The other three get into the cab of your truck. You swing yourself up and into the bed.<br/>
<br/>
Halfway down Twentieth Street, Marc taps at the back window and points: <i>Lay down,</i> he mouths. Gordon is pretty damn recognizable, so it's a good idea. You sprawl out on the bed and watch the overcast sky sliding by.<br/>
<br/>
So you've no idea where you are when the truck shudders to a stop and the engine shuts off. All you see when you sit up is a wall and a vacant lot with some trees on the other side of it, hiding another house from view.<br/>
<br/>
You vault over the side of the truck and follow the others as Marc takes the lead. (Your borrowed "Marc" persona finds it a little spooky to see himself from the outside—his sisters are twins, not him—but you put a lid on those feelings.) The top of the wall is above even your eye level, but you can make out the second story of a square-built villa rising up over it. You come to a wrought-iron gate; Marc fiddles with the handle and pushes it open. It squeals faintly.<br/>
<br/>
The yard beyond is completely dead: dirt instead of grass, and empty flower beds. There's a lone tree at the corner of the house, and a stone shed. You mount the porch. As Marc puts a key to the front door, you do a double take at the doorbell.<br/>
<br/>
It's mounted inside the ravening mouth of an ornamental wolf's head.</span></div></div>


