# chapters

path: 1133221111211121211111
author_id: rugal
title: (Somebody) Ease My Troublin' Mind
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Getting ready as Fatima is a much different experience than getting ready as Sienna. With Sienna it's quickly slather on a little makeup, grab some clothes, and you're good to go but Fatima's appearance is more meticulously maintained. More intricately maintained hair to give it plenty of volume and bounce, more delicately and carefully applied makeup to deal with any blemish. You carefully consider all of your clothing options. It's a bit crisp out today so you go with an oversized, fashionable sweater, some dark leggings, and a pair of small gray boots to match the sweater.<br/>
<br/>
You briefly muse on the fact that, compared to her more traditional parents, Fatima would seem rebellious with the flashy clothes and lack of hijab. In fact, however, while both of her parents are muslim it was never something they attempted to force their daughter to adopt rather they wanted her to come to her own decision. It just turned out that decision was that she wasn't particularly religious.<br/>
<br/>
It's all petty stuff you're thinking about as you pull into the school parking lot and exit the car but you realize you're probably attempting to take your mind off of your inevitable talk with Sienna. You don't really know what you'll say to let her down, you don't want to hurt her, but you realize that what Fatima had told you yesterday probably is true: maybe you do have a bit of a hero complex.<br/>
<br/>
The idea of finding a girl when she's down and being there for her, making her feel better, and then maybe she'd realize... ugh! When you put it like that it actually sounds vaguely predatory, like some kind of asshole Nice Guy. It's not, probably, but even still... maybe that's part of why Lisa didn't consider you a thing either.<br/>
<br/>
Well no use thinking about her, you realize, especially as you see <i>Sienna</i> and make your way over to her. "So, how'd things go last night?" you ask after familiar greetings and a friendly hug.<br/>
<br/>
"About as well as could be expected." she replies with about as neutral a tone as you've ever heard. "I just kind of stayed out with Andi and them to avoid having to deal with anything. How about you?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "I just kind of did your normal thing." You pause for a second before adding, "I guess we should meet up at your place after school, all three of us, and get back to normal. I'm gonna try and talk to Sienna today, I've got some stuff I have to work out with her."<br/>
<br/>
"That fast?" comes the reply.<br/>
<br/>
"That fast." you look over at her, Fatima under Sienna's mask, and you bring her into another hug. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did Sunday and I should be actually spending time with you. Not having other people spend time with you as me. I'll try and do better."<br/>
<br/>
"Will, it's fine." she replies with a small laugh, "But if you think you were a jerk, well, then apology accept I guess. I'll give you another chance."<br/>
<br/>
Once you seperate to go to class you realize that Fatima hadn't hung out with Will for lunch either yesterday--that you know--or Friday so you figure you'll do that today so you can try and get Sienna alone to talk.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what'd you want to talk about?" Will asks as you stand face to face in an out of the way hallway hoping nobody comes by. "That <i>is</i> you under there Prescott, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Fatima told me about everything so I went through with it." you answer, "God I'm so used to being everyone else at this point that it'll be weird going back. Hopefully you two left things in good condition for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Same as usual. Fatima got that shit for Walberg done for you, I think it was some internet comments and other shit like that printed out. Wrote the paper about it being a snapshot of human communication just after the internet became integrated into everyday life. Heh, she's smart."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm surprised she's not in the AP classes." you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"She's not enough of a snooty overachiever type like them." he retorts, "But I don't think you pulled me aside to talk about the time capsule so what's the deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's about Sunday." you start, "It's about us. I just... I want apologize. I came in and fucked things up. I wasn't thinking and, well, yeah; it was dumb as fuck. You're a really good, really strong person though and I'm sure you'll find somebody. Just that I realized I want to make something with Fatima work so... yeah. Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
Will stares at you quizzically for a moment and then you notice his lips start to move, his face contort, and very quickly he busts out in full-blown laughter. "Oh my god, you melodramatic dickhead!" he exclaims as the laughter starts to die down. "I'm not.. that was a thing that happened last night because we got so caught up and the emotions and hormones and shit. I'm not fucking interested in you."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not? But..." you start.<br/>
<br/>
"Noooo. Nonononono. Deeefinitely not."<br/>
<br/>
The response is blunt enough to leave you reeling a bit. "You don't have to be such an ass about it." you reply as you feel yourself get hot and turn red.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, but yeah, no. I'm <i>not</i> interested in you. You had my mask and all of my memories and shit for a few days and you couldn't tell that?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "That stuff fades pretty fast. I mean... I guess I probably did while I had the mask on but I don't hardly remember any of that now."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Prescott, you're a... you're an alright dude even if I think you're probably trying to set your own mind at ease instead of mine. And I'm happy that Fatima likes being with you because to be honest I'd give my left tit if it meant her being happy."<br/>
<br/>
His voice then gets a bit more low and serious, "I think that's what I was jealous of. Not that she was with you specifically but that she seemed to be happy being with someone. I haven't had a serious boyfriend in a while now, just one night things or friends with benefits deals. A lot of times it sucks and there's a lot of times where I get all of this doubt and these negative thoughts about it in my head. But then I realize that shit ain't important you know?" he grunts in annoyance, "Chelsea and Kelsey and all those other upper-class bitches whose name ends in long 'E' sounds call me a slut and you know what? They're right. I <i>am</i> a slut. But I've realized, fuck them and fuck anyone who thinks they're gonna make me ashamed of the fact I like to get laid. Whenever I get a real boyfriend then yeah, I'm not gonna sleep around or anything, but until then whatever. They can get fucked and so can I."<br/>
<br/>
You almost want to laugh at that but not in a dismissive way. "You're a real strong personality you know that? Even without having you in my head. So how about we forget everything that happened?" you extend your hand, "Friends?"<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates for a moment for taking it. "Sure, whatever. Great pals and everything, yeah."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After school the three of you head back to Fatima's home and it's out of the masks and into your actual clothes. Sienna heads off to practice with her bandmates. You get ready to leave as well but Fatima stops you, wanting to spend a little bit of time together before you all hop back into things with the book tomorrow and you're more than happy to oblige.<br/>
<br/>
As it turns out "spending a little bit of time together" means making out and a little bit of light petting in her room until you hear her mom's car pull up. All the better since, to be frank, you're kind of awkward and not too great at it but Fatima assures you that you'll get better with more practice. Suffice it to say you'll definitely have things to think about later tonight when you can find some privacy.<br/>
<br/>
You hadn't been to Fatima's either when she herself was under your mask or when Sienna was under it, though she had been to your place on Saturday, so it's the first time either of her parents have met you. Her mother greets you warmly, asking you a bit about yourself. You realize that she's probably giving you the typical "are you good enough for my child" parental quiz for all prospective romantic partners but if nothing else she's able to ask you in a manner that doesn't put you on edge. You then bid both of them goodbye telling Fatima you'll see her at school tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
At home you dick around on your laptop thinking a little about something Fatima's mother had asked you: do you have any plans after graduation? Fatima had asked you the same question when you went shopping for art supplies with her and obviously you don't. But you think, you are in your senior year of high school and you really do need to start thinking about the future. Likewise you have a real, serious girlfriend so you're going to have to grow up a bit too. That definitely means you'll need to get a job both to pay for things like dates and for supplies for the book if it requires any more.<br/>
<br/>
You groan, that probably means having to acquiesce to your dad's wishes and take the Salopak job offer. Well there's always other stuff too though working retail isn't necessarily high up on your list of favored jobs. Well, you've got your laptop so maybe there's something a little off the beaten path that you'd be fine with. You head over to Craigslist and one job listing there does catch your eye.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Assistant wanted to help catalogue vast and expanding personal library. $10 per hour. Observant and careful a must. Contact Professor Aubrey Blackwell at...</i><br/>
<br/>
You write down the address and phone number in case you want to go back to it. Ten bucks an hour for some easy cataloguing work sounds tempting but, well, Craigslist so it could just as easily be a scam. Still you do need a job. Salopak, this one, something else... benefits and potential drawbacks to all of them.</span></div></div>


path: 11333
author_id: seuzz
title: Crap to the Future
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Whoever is back there, it's probably not anyone you'd care to run into. Dane's the only one of <i>that</i> kind of crowd you think you could deal with. So you continue around to the front of the building.<br/>
<br/>
The hallways are empty--an eerie sight--but you hear laughter as you pass the teachers' lounge. You shudder. Teachers having fun: what a creepy thought.<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Walberg looks back at you with a weary expression when you find him. "So what have you got," he sighs.<br/>
<br/>
You fumble the book from your backpack. "Just this." It suddenly strikes you that it might not be the kind of thing he wants for the project; maybe <i>you</i> regard the collection as a heap of junk, but <i>he</i> probably doesn't, and you hope he doesn't sarcastically reject your offering.<br/>
<br/>
He studies the cover. "I found it at Arnholm's," you say. He opens it and looks at the first page. "It looks kind of old, so I thought--"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes shift behind the tinted lenses. "And what exactly <i>did</i> you think," he asks, and his frown deepens.<br/>
<br/>
You're saved by the sound of running footsteps. "Chuck! Margaritas in the teachers' lounge! Becky brought--!" It's Ms. Goretsky, and her tweed skirt and sensible pumps have vanished in favor of rainbow-colored tights and jogging shoes, which clash harshly with her starched white top. She pulls up sharply at your unexpected presence. <br/>
<br/>
"You need a designated driver?" Mr. Walberg says from behind you. You jerk back around, feeling severely conscious of your position. Mr. Walberg drops the book into a bottom drawer of his desk and closes it. "I'll be along in a bit, Diane," he says. "Is there anything else, Mr. Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head, and your feet don't want to work as you stiffly squeeze past Ms. Goretsky. You redden at the sound of their voices as the two teachers continue to talk, even though you can't make out their words.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind up over at Caleb's house, probably because you're wishing you'd just gone to see him instead of making that mortifying trip to the school. Still, it's given you a nice piece of gossip. "God, I bet they're getting drunk out there every single fucking day," he snickers. "Ms. Goretsky, in tights? Yow."<br/>
<br/>
"And her shirt was all, like, down to here." You touch the midpoint of your thigh. "It looked like she wasn't wearing anything underneath it."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb howls. "I'm gonna have to bleach my brain to get the picture out!"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, she looked kind of sexy. I mean, she's gotta be at least thirty-five, but--" You flush as Caleb throws his head back and laughs. "I bet she was cute twenty years ago. Oh, fuck you!" You hurl a pillow at him. "Better her in those tights than Walberg!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb nearly capsizes, and you fall over on your side as well. "So what were you doing there anyway?" Caleb asks when your joint laughter subsides. <br/>
<br/>
"Giving him something for that stupid time capsule. What have you got?" From his desk he tweaks up a thumb drive. "The fuck is that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Something to tease the future with. I put a buncha porn on it, buried way deep inside some folders. The rest of it is just, eh, random pages off the internet."<br/>
<br/>
"Pft. They're gonna have porn in the future."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. But it's the thumb drive that makes it special." Your brow crinkles in puzzlement. "Yeah, see, they're not going to be able to read it, because in fifty years or whenever they dig it up all the tech is gonna have changed. So, in the future, they're gonna be all, like, oh wow, there must be some really mind-blowing stuff on this thing, but they won't be able to read it. It'll drive 'em crazy."<br/>
<br/>
"They'll find a way to get into it," you object, and then realization breaks as Caleb grins. "Oh, I see. And they'll just find a bunch of out-of-date internet pages and pictures of guys sucking off goats."<br/>
<br/>
He leans forward eagerly. "You know where I can find pictures like that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why, does that turn you on?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But what a perfect first image for them to find."<br/>
<br/>
You smirk back, and then your smile fades. "Yeah, but what if <i>Walberg</i> goes through it first?"<br/>
<br/>
"That old fart? I bet he still uses a typewriter."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
If Walberg did go through Caleb's thumb drive, he doesn't say anything, and a week later the whole class traipses out to a little plot of land at the corner of the school property to bury the capsule. "Dearly beloved and deeply bereaved, we are gathered here today--" Caleb snickers in your ear. You chortle, but choke it off when you catch Walberg glaring in your direction.<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Mansfield," the teacher says when the crowd has sufficiently settled down, and Geoff lowers the steel box into a fresh hole. Walberg nods at Kelsey Blankenship.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Blech.</i> Kelsey. Naturally, Walberg picked that rich, stuck-up, hyper-ambitious bitch to say a few words as the class commits the bones of the present to the care of the future. She looks very smug as she reads from a crinkled sheet of paper, and you're glad she's on the other side of the capsule from you. <br/>
<br/>
You're glad Mansfield is on the other side as well, for it gives you a chance to--<br/>
<br/>
You edge around Caleb and nudge your way past Jonas Martin. He shoots you a hard glance over his shoulder, and you can't help flinching a little. He's another one of those basketball thugs, like Black and Patterson and Javits, and you're thankful he's the only one in the class, for it means he doesn't feel like he has to show off in front of his peers by bullying small fry like you.<br/>
<br/>
You keep edging around the crowd until you're next to Lisa. Carefully, as though on accident, you brush against her. She glances at you, but doesn't otherwise react.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yeah, I saw what you did back there," Caleb snorts as the class troops back to the room.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," you growl. You're watching the back of Lisa's head, and the curls of her long, dark hair as they bob against her shoulders. You'd be walking next to her, but Mansfield had brutally cut in, pushing you away. <i>Fucking Geoff Mansfield.</i><br/>
<br/>
Back in the room, Mr. Walberg taps his lectern. "And now I want a one-page paper from you all, describing what you put in the capsule and why you chose it." A collective groan goes up from the students. "Due Friday," he adds.<br/>
<br/>
Brooke Galloway's hand shoots up. "Why didn't you tell us this <i>before,</i>" she whines. "We just <i>buried</i> it!"<br/>
<br/>
"So now we'll see how much thought you put into it," Walberg says with a grim smile. "If you actually <i>thought</i> about it, it will be an easy assignment. And if you don't remember what you put in the capsule, Miss Galloway--" He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
Some of the students snicker as Brooke reddens. You look at Caleb, and he looks back at you with a stricken expression. You lean back, smiling at his discomfiture, then do a little double take as you see Lisa lean toward Geoff. He replies to her query with a shake of his head, which cheers you, for you'd overheard what she'd asked ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So who'd Walberg kill today," James Lamont asks. He tips his cola back and eyes you and Caleb satirically. "It looked like <i>someone</i> got buried out in that grave."<br/>
<br/>
"Probably just what's left of Walberg's sex drive," Carson Ioeger sniggers. "The hole was small enough." He empties a bag of chips into his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"It was a time capsule," you say. "I told you guys about that."<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't paying attention," Carson says. "What's your name again?" <br/>
<br/>
You flip him off, then nudge Caleb. "Tell 'em what <i>you</i> put in it."<br/>
<br/>
He ignores you. "Didn't you guys have to do a time capsule for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, we have him for history," James mutters. He looks at Jenny. "What are you doing after school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hanging out with Yumi." Jenny cranes her neck to gaze toward the cafeteria, then looks at you and Caleb with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Yeah, did you guys hear? Kendra got caught naked in the school." She looks over your heads again. "Yumi's been keeping me up to date."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking cheerleader stuff," James grunts, and looks at you and Caleb. "What are you guys doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's this about Kendra being naked?" Caleb demands. "And I want details."<br/>
<br/>
"It was a couple of days back," Jenny says as James rolls his eyes. "After classes let out. They found her in the girls' bathroom without any clothes on. And she was passed out," she adds with a conspiratorial grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Who found her?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"And did they get pictures?" Caleb asks, his eyes goggling.<br/>
<br/>
"Fatima Zahedi," Jenny says, "so no, there weren't any pictures. But she had friends there, and word got back to Charles Hartlein, so of course--" There are peals of laughter. "Anyway, <i>they</i>--" And you don't have to ask who "they" are. "<i>They</i> are saying it never happened, that Charles and them are just making it up, but--"<br/>
<br/>
Well, that sets off lots of ribald speculations involving alcohol and loss of inhibitions and the slutty behavior of cheerleaders (except for Yumi, of course) before talk circles back to after-school plans. "I'm gonna stay late and write a paper for Walberg," you say, trying to make it sound like a grumble. <i>Stay late so you can "accidentally" run into Lisa.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Can I hang out with you and Yumi," Paul Davis asks Jenny in a hopeful tone.<br/>
<br/>
"You just go ahead and do that," Carson says, and leans back to address the sky. "And if you ask James, he could join you later to take Jenny off Yumi's hands. That'd be nice for you and him both, so you probably won't even have to ask him nicely."<br/>
<br/>
An awkward silence settles over the group.</span></div></div>


path: 113331
author_id: seuzz
title: Attempted Recoveries
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You should have your laptop out, but that'd look too businesslike. It'll be much easier to push aside the notebook after Lisa has sat down at the table with you. For about the tenth time since settling near the library's entrance you put the pencil to the page. But you can think of no words to write. Except <i>Lisa</i>, over and over again.<br/>
<br/>
Fucking Walberg. What a shit thing to do to the class. You've barely thought about that crazy book in the week since you gave it to him. Not that it would do you much good if you <i>could</i> remember it. What can you write, except "I contributed an old Latin book. It contained magic spells for creating disguises. I put it in the time capsule because I wanted to get rid of it, and because this was a stupid assignment."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Disguises.</i><br/>
<br/>
If you'd kept the book, and put something <i>else</i> in the time capsule you'd have an easier time with this damn assignment. <i>And the book?</i> You snort to yourself at the satirical thought: <i>Maybe you could have made up a disguise that would let you get closer to Lisa. Maybe you could have disguised yourself as--</i><br/>
<br/>
You flinch. You hate Mansfield. He's another one of those stuck-up AP types: advanced classes across the board; debate and political science, because he's going to be a fucking politician; extra-curricular activities out his asshole. And he looks the part, too. He's always been just a little bit taller than you, and even back in middle school he carried himself like he was a year older than everyone else. And now that it's your senior year he even <i>looks</i> like he's already in college. Tall, with dark, neatly trimmed hair and a broad, confident smile that shows lots of straight white teeth. Not like your smile, which somehow gets all tangled and twisted up. <br/>
<br/>
What's the attraction for Lisa? His looks? Yeah, he looks good, you have to admit. But with a magic disguise <i>you</i> could look good, look just like him. Ha!<br/>
<br/>
You sigh and sag in your seat. But if she actually likes <i>him?</i> Could you act like him? That wouldn't be part of the disguise, and she'd spot the imposture. And if you <i>could</i> act like him-- Well, then she wouldn't have dumped <i>you</i> for <i>him.</i><br/>
<br/>
You twist in your seat. <i>Except she said she </i>didn't<i> dump you, because you were never together.</i><br/>
<br/>
Someone coughs, and you look over. It's Kendra. Odd to see her in the library, of all places, and without Gloria or Chelsea or any of the other cheerleaders. Especially now, since you'd seen her in the parking lot with them not fifteen minutes ago. She shifts in her chair, and you have to blink, but it was just a momentary illusion: her dark top had seemed to vanish, exposing the lovely brown skin beneath. You take a sharp breath and shake your head. <i>Jenny and that stupid gossip.</i> You turn back to your notebook, and are dismayed to see that you've just written <i>Kendra</i> on a clean, white sheet of paper. Hurriedly, you erase it, then flip to a new page.<br/>
<br/>
You look at the clock: Three fifty-five. If Lisa is coming, shouldn't she be here by now? The door opens, and you jerk your head over. But it's only-- "Shit! Dane! What are you doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
He jumps back, and his eyes pop. "Whoa. Prescott. Don't sneak up on me, dude."<br/>
<br/>
"Shouldn't you be in Walberg's room?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, yeah," he says slowly. "He lemme go early. Guess he had somethin' to--Whoa, lookit <i>that!</i>" He's spotted Kendra, so of course he forgets all about you, and pads over to her. To your surprise, she smiles at him as he crouches next to her chair.<br/>
<br/>
But you haven't long to contemplate this scene, for the door opens again, and Lisa sweeps in.<br/>
<br/>
And Mansfield is with her. Your face craters.<br/>
<br/>
If Lisa has noticed your reaction, she doesn't mention it as she greets you. "What are you doing here, Will?" she asks with a smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Working on that thing for Walberg." You shove a chair with your foot, meaning to push it out for her, but you get tangled up with its legs, and it bangs against the table and floor.<br/>
<br/>
"What <i>did</i> you put in the capsule?" she asks. "I meant to ask you." She ignores the chair, and twists her head around to look at your notebook.<br/>
<br/>
"Just a book, about--" You look at Mansfield, who is smirking down at you. "A book of magic."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool," Mansfield says dryly. "Wanna see me make something disappear?" He plucks a book from Lisa's arm and drops it into the return slot. "You ready to go?" he asks her.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay. I'll see you around, Will."<br/>
<br/>
As she disappears through the doorway, Geoff cocks an amused eyebrow at you. "Now you see her, now you don't."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I can't believe he buried it this deep," Caleb mutters as he throws another shovelful of dirt over his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't believe you didn't keep an extra copy of that porn on your hard drive," you retort as you sit nearby. "I can't believe you talked me into coming out to help you get that thumb drive back."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll let you borrow it, and <i>then</i> you'll see why I want it back. Besides," he adds. "I'm gonna replace it with something else."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I can't write a paper telling Walberg I'm sending porn into the future!"<br/>
<br/>
"So just make up some other shit! Like it'll do you any good. He <i>knows</i> you put a thumb drive into the capsule."<br/>
<br/>
"He got his notes mixed up, Will," Caleb says patiently. "That's how come his notes will say I gave him a thumb drive when I give him a paper saying that I buried a CD containing my favorite music tracks."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll know you're lying."<br/>
<br/>
"And if he accuses me of lying, I'll make him dig the damn capsule up again. In fact, I hope he <i>does</i> accuse me of lying, so I can <i>make</i> him dig it up. It'll be worth it to see the look on his face when he finds a CD and no thumb drive down here."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. It's well after midnight, and you'd had to sneak out of the house to meet with Caleb for this raid. It had to be late, to lessen the chance of being caught.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, Caleb pulls the box from the ground. You hold the flashlight as he rummages through the contents. "The fuck is it?" he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
But you're not listening. You've noticed that your own contribution--that weird old book--is not in the box. Caleb must have noticed the frozen expression on your face, for he asks you what is wrong. "My book," you mutter. You reach into the box, and the flashlight beam wavers.<br/>
<br/>
"Hold that thing still," Caleb snaps. "I'm trying to--" His fingers rake along the bottom of the box. "Ah, here it is. Now, what were you babbling about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I gave Walberg a book to put in here, and it's not here."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb blinks, then shoves you. "Dammit, Will, you've fucked everything up! How's the future gonna manage if they haven't got your <i>diary</i> to guide them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up!" You shove him back. "It was a book I wanted to get rid of, so I gave it to Walberg to put in the capsule, and now it's--" You bite your lip.<br/>
<br/>
"And so you got rid of it," Caleb says. "Do you have it now?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I told you--"<br/>
<br/>
"So you got rid of it. Mission accomplished. Come on, let's put this stuff back before someone catches us."<br/>
<br/>
Numbly, you help him lower the box and fill in the hole. Neither of you talks until you're jogging back to your cars. "I'd still like to know what happened to that book," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Christ. So Walberg palmed it. It wasn't embarrassing, was it? Like, some chick vampire novel?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But yeah, he must've taken it," you agree, and stop in your tracks. "Eesh."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Caleb demands impatiently. "What's so fucking important about this book?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, and then you start trying to describe it: The Latin, the weird pictures, the way the pages wouldn't open, and then mysteriously would. "It was talking about making disguises," you finish somewhat lamely. "Like, magical disguises." You take a deep breath, for you realize you're going to sound very silly: "I think it was a book of magic."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus," Caleb groans. "Listen to yourself. <i>Magic!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you'd <i>seen</i> it--"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I <i>didn't</i> see it, and I don't care. It's a lotta bullshit."<br/>
<br/>
"It was an old book, Caleb," you insist. "I'm pretty sure it was really old and authentic--"<br/>
<br/>
"Authentic bullshit."<br/>
<br/>
"--and Arnholm was selling it for two hundred dollars."<br/>
<br/>
<i>That</i> gets Caleb's attention. "You paid two hundred dollars for a book and then <i>threw it away?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I only paid two bucks for it. Arnholm marked it down because, like I told you, the pages were all glued shut."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, then it was obviously a fake. Just some practical joke. They had practical jokes back in the middle ages. I mean, probably they did--"<br/>
<br/>
"But I told you, one of the pages <i>did</i> turn, after I bought it. And if I'd put my <i>blood</i> in it, like it asked me to--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, this is just getting disgusting. I'm getting cold and I'm going home. I'll see you later." He jogs off. You let him disappear into the darkness before following more slowly.<br/>
<br/>
You try telling yourself that Caleb is right, and that it doesn't matter where it has gone. But you can't stop it from preying on your mind, if for no other reason than because you still have to write that report. You still have some scraps of notes from when you tried translating it. Maybe the internet can help you fill in the gaps.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312
author_id: seuzz
title: The Replacements
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You decide to leave it alone. If Walberg <i>did</i> take the book out of the capsule, you really don't want to put your suspicions about it down on paper. Hell, even if he didn't, you don't want to give him a paper in which you describe finding an ancient book of occult magic.<br/>
<br/>
You decide to take a cue from Caleb, and write a paper describing some <i>other</i> item. Of course, Walberg will certainly remember that you contributed a book--seeing as how you delivered it to him under such highly <i>memorable</i> circumstances--so the next day (a Wednesday) you make another trip out to Arnholm's, to see if you can find another book that's superficially similar: It'll make writing a fake report much easier. But though you spend nearly an hour carefully combing through all the promising stacks--the rare book collection; the occult section; the literary hardback shelves; the foreign language room--you can't find anything that remotely resembles your earlier find.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, you decide to make a virtue of necessity by baiting a trap for Walberg. You purchase (for fifteen dollars) a terrifying technical manual--<i>Problems of Hydroelectric Development at Existing Dams</i>--so you can write a paper about putting <i>it</i> in the capsule. If Walberg stole your book, he'll know that you <i>didn't</i> give him something like <i>that.</i> And if he challenges you, you can challenge him back, daring him to describe the book you <i>did</i> give him. And then you can challenge him to open up the capsule-- <br/>
<br/>
<i>Hmm. You're going to have to dig the capsule up again.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Let's get together tonight," you say to Caleb as you drop down next to him Thursday afternoon at lunch. You nod vacantly at Carson and Paul and Yumi Saito as you continue talking to Caleb. "Like, at one o'clock again." <br/>
<br/>
His face falls. "What the fuck for? I'm planning on being in bed then."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, leave a dummy behind and come with me."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you guys suddenly hanging around with <i>us</i> so much?" Carson demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you like us, Ioeger?" you retort, and he shrugs noncommittally.<br/>
<br/>
"Tilley's been attracting assholes, so we've been avoiding him," Caleb replies while still looking hard at you. "What're you wanting to do, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Put something in the capsule," you reply. "Like you did."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you guys talking about?" Paul asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Javits has been paying special attention to Tilley lately," Caleb says in a loud voice while holding your eye. "And since no one likes being nearby when Javits is feeling frisky--"<br/>
<br/>
You ignore the hint. "We dug up that capsule the other night," you interrupt, and dodge backward as Caleb grabs at you. "Yeah," you grin. "Caleb had second thoughts about his contribution to the future. He figured they'll already have enough porn."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna fuck you up," Caleb growls.<br/>
<br/>
"You put <i>porn</i> in the time capsule?" Carson chortles. "Oh, that takes balls. What did Walberg say?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's how come he changed his mind," you reply, grinning at Caleb. "Afterward, Walberg told us he wanted a <i>report</i> on what we put in the capsule, and Caleb just about shat himself. Anyway, I helped you, so I want you to help me. Let's go dig it up again."<br/>
<br/>
"Did <i>you</i> put porn in the time capsule?" Yumi gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"No, Prescott contributed some bullshit magic book," Caleb says. You've embarrassed him, so he embarrasses you by telling them all about what you told him about the book.<br/>
<br/>
"God, why would you get rid of a book like that," Carson gasps through his laughter when Caleb is done. "That sounds wicked. Magic disguises! <i>Some</i> people would find them pretty useful." He grins at Yumi.<br/>
<br/>
She frowns. "What do you mean by that?"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "If Jenny did herself up like you, you could hang out with us while <i>she</i> got all her cheerleader gossip directly. Davis wouldn't mind seeing two of you either. Would you, Davis?" Paul turns red.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi pauses in mid chew. "Where's Jenny?" she asks darkly. Carson just laughs again.<br/>
<br/>
You kick at Caleb. "Come on, man. I wanna do that thing."<br/>
<br/>
"You've got nothing to be worried about," he retorts. "Just write your damn report."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna sting Walberg," you reply. "Like, if he <i>did</i> take that book--" You explain your plan, which leaves Caleb looking very tired and exasperated. "And if he doesn't call bullshit on my paper, I'll know he has a guilty conscience and he <i>did</i> take it."<br/>
<br/>
"Like it matters," Caleb groans.<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you guys suddenly hanging around with us?" James Lamont asks as he plops down next to you. Unlike Carson, he doesn't wait for an answer. "Where's Jenny?"<br/>
<br/>
"Off giving Kendra the business," Carson grins as he takes a bite from his sandwich.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God!" Yumi exclaims, and hastily gathers her stuff. "She isn't! I can't be seen with you guys! I'll <i>kill</i> her!" She scampers off.<br/>
<br/>
"Like I said--" Carson shakes his head with silent laughter. "There would be certain <i>advantages</i> to being able to be in two places at once. <i>Deniability</i> being one of them."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb refuses point blank to help you--some friend!--and you wind up stalking off in white-faced anger. That evening you finish writing up your new paper, and sneak out to put the new book into the capsule. It's ugly work, and you're so mad that you don't talk to Caleb on Friday, and when Saturday comes you call Carson instead. "What am I, your backup Johansson?" he grouses. "You call me when something goes wrong with the original?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you don't want--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just giving you shit. Pick you up in thirty minutes."<br/>
<br/>
But he asks about Caleb again after you've slid into his car. "I'm pissed at him," you explain, and tell about digging the capsule back up again.<br/>
<br/>
"Serves you right," he says. "You should've held on to that grimoire, buried something else to start with. It sounds like it would've been fun."<br/>
<br/>
"You believe in magic?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hell, no. But what's belief got to do with it? I'da bought it off you. I coulda used it in a campaign, gotten some ideas for, like, evil twins and shit. How about some tennis? James and Paul are off sucking each other's cocks since Jenny and Yumi are--"<br/>
<br/>
"How come they haven't killed you yet? The way you keep going off on--"<br/>
<br/>
"How's Lisa these days?"<br/>
<br/>
You shove a middle finger against his cheek. "You're a prick, Ioeger."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he drawls. "But I'm actually curious. Weren't you two together all summer?"<br/>
<br/>
You glare out your window.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It had begun at the end of your junior year, when in a fit of madness you had one day asked Lisa if she'd like to hang out. You never would have expected her to say yes, but she </i>had<i>, and what had started as just relaxed and friendly "hanging out" had almost invisibly progressed to light touching and holding hands and putting arms around each other. Over the summer--warm, open-ended, commitment-free summer days--the two of you would go to the movies or to the park and talk easily and carelessly about this and that. You'd sit with your arm around her, and she'd put her arm around you and rest her head on your shoulder, and once, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, you'd kissed her on the top of her hair, and she'd lifted her head to smile at you. You didn't dare jinx it by actually pushing things in a definite direction, and you never openly broached the subject of what the two of you meant to each other. <br/>
<br/>
And then came that horrible day, not long after school had started again, when you'd gone up and put your arm around her. She'd wriggled free, and with a cool smile had reminded you that you and she were not "dating." And she'd left you there with a shocked look on your face as she went off with Kelsey and Amanda Ferguson.<br/>
<br/>
And then fucking Geoff Mansfield had started appearing at her side.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you if you're not gonna talk," Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
"Tennis is fine," you grumble. "No, fuck it. I'm not paying for a court."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll go up to the school."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna run into Kirk and them."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>They</i> pay for courts on weekends. Country club and shit."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's Kirk and Kelsey and Amanda and Brooke and them," he acidly replies. "Where do you <i>think</i> they hang out on weekends? Mansfield, too," he can't help adding. "Though I guess he's got someplace new to hang out."<br/>
<br/>
"You know, if you're going to--"<br/>
<br/>
"Settle down, squirt, I'm just-- You know, that's another reason you shoulda held onto that book. You coulda used it to disguise yourself as Geoff," he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
You glare at him. "Yeah, I actually <i>did</i> think about that," you grumble quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"No shit," he chortles. "Of course, that'd be aiming low. Why settle for Lisa--" He snickers as you hit him. "Do yourself up like someone who could get close to Gloria or Kendra or one of them." He laughs nastily. "That'd be fun to see, watching you try to act like some smooth-talking asshole or jock. And then getting caught when the real guy showed up."<br/>
<br/>
You slump in your seat.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Carson do wind up at the high school. Westside traditionally fields lots of championship teams, and it's one of the administration's many concessions to its athletes that it keeps its fields open on weekends. But as Carson has noted, it's a concession that the tennis players don't take advantage of, so you're expecting to have the courts to yourselves. Imagine your surprise, then, when you arrive to find one court occupied by three people: Kim Walsh, Dane Matthias, and--<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, crap," Carson chortles. "It's Kendra, and she's got her clothes on for once."<br/>
<br/>
You stop cold, for the scene bothers you.</span></div></div>


path: 11333121
author_id: seuzz
title: A Game of Doubles
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Oh, crap," Carson chortles. "It's Kendra, and she's got her clothes on for once."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," you say, and nudge him. But you can't help eyeing her as well, even as you feel a cold ripple go up your back.<br/>
<br/>
Kendra Saunders is a slim, Kenyan beauty with auburn-dyed hair that hangs in tight ringlets down to her shoulders, framing a face with achingly prominent cheekbones and a wide smile. She isn't especially buxom or busty, and looks better built for track than for gymnastics, but she is lithe and graceful, and when she turns and smiles--which she never does to you or any of your friends--she has a way of making the world feel much more electric. Especially the part of the world centered on your cock.<br/>
<br/>
And now she's here, dressed in a short skirt and tight top and bright white tennis shoes, and she's twirling a racket in her hands and giggling with Kim Walsh. Kim is even slimmer and smaller, but she's not a cheerleader like Kendra, and she has a slightly vexed expression on her freckled face and stands awkwardly as Kendra keeps clutching at her and laughing.  As well she might, for Kim is the student council president, and has always struck you as being a very serious girl, one with little time for the haughty, nasty, gossipy cheerleaders.<br/>
<br/>
And then there's Dane. You nod and smile at him as you approach, expecting him to acknowledge your surprise appearance with a cheery callback to your run-in with him last week. But even though he nods back, he looks at you with a squint, and his smile is tight. He bounces a tennis ball with a hard, nervous energy, and his eyes bore into you as you pass. <i>The fuck has he got to be so unfriendly about all of a sudden?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
You and Carson take a spot several courts over. "Kind of a weird group over there, huh?" you mutter. <br/>
<br/>
"What's weird about it?" He glances over at them. "Matthias is friends with lots of people."<br/>
<br/>
"With <i>Kendra?</i>" You give a sudden start: <i>That's</i> what's bothering you. It's a goofball echo back to when you saw them together in the library. "Don't you usually see him with Hennepin and Gerard? And <i>Semple</i>?" you add meaningfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Adrian Semple?" Carson asks blankly.<br/>
<br/>
"You know any others? And you know Semple. Him and Hartlein are like that." You cross your fingers. "And you remember what Jenny was talking about last week, about Kendra and Charles and Fatima."<br/>
<br/>
"I remember what she was telling us about <i>Kendra,</i>" he laughs, and you hush him. "If I wanted to talk about that shit, I'd be hanging out with Jenny and Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
You separate, and Carson slams the ball directly into the net with a sloppy serve. He grimaces as he trots over to retrieve it. And when you see who has just arrived, you trot over to meet him at the net. "Okay, don't look behind you, but <i>Javits</i> is on his way over."<br/>
<br/>
He blinks. "You're shitting me."<br/>
<br/>
You yank the ball from his hand. "Looks like they're gonna play doubles over there. Javits is in tennis togs."<br/>
<br/>
"Is Cindy with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope." <br/>
<br/>
His earlier disclaimer notwithstanding, Carson looks thoughtful. And you, too, chew on the inside of your cheek, for Seth Javits and Cindy Vredenburg--the latter a cheerleader, like Kendra--are never far from or out of "touch" with each other. Out of the corner of your eye you see Kendra skip over to Javits and give him a lingering embrace. "Maybe Seth hired a body double to keep his girlfriend distracted for the afternoon," you say, remembering Carson's joke about the advantages of being in two places at once.<br/>
<br/>
He snorts. "Well, it's none of our business. And I <i>don't</i> want Javits noticing us."<br/>
<br/>
"No fear of that, it looks like," you reply, for Seth and Kendra are still tangled up with each other. "Looks they've only got eyes--and hands--for each other." <br/>
<br/>
"Let's just keep <i>our</i> eyes on the ball," Carson says through gritted teeth. "Service, please."<br/>
<br/>
You swivel to return to your side of the court, and can't help but notice Dane staring straight at you, past Kim, even after she has spoken to him. You have to pause, because it is <i>definitely</i> an unfriendly glare.<br/>
<br/>
The racket slips in your grip, but you manage to get the ball over the net. Carson, however, can only make a wild return. "We gotta stop meeting like this," you say as you both trot up to the net.<br/>
<br/>
But you continue to fumble badly. Neither you nor your friend are very good anyway, and you're very conscious of your bad moves, what with the others being nearby. And though no one at the other court says anything, every time you glance past them, you have the impression that Dane is watching you from the corner of his eye.<br/>
<br/>
You're soon thoroughly unnerved. "Let's wrap this up and go somewhere else," you gasp to him when (again!) you meet at the net.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," he growls. "It'll <i>look</i> like we're running away, and if we go walking past Javits-- Just get back over there. I'm gonna serve."<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath and return to your side. You swat his serve back, but catch it at a bad angle, and it flies high over the fence and to the side ... and it lands on the court where the others are. Dane's the one who catches it. He holds it up and cocks an eyebrow, silently asking if you want it returned. His mouth suddenly twists into a crooked smile under dead-looking eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Screw Carson, this is the perfect moment to bug out. "Let's just give up," you tell him in a loud voice, the better to hide the quaver in it. "I can't hit that thing for shit today."<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces, but follows you out. As you pass, Dane lofts the ball at you. You almost fumble it as Javits turns to look at you. But his expression is blank, and he just turns back around, to whistle at Kim to serve the ball.<br/>
<br/>
You wait until you're out of sight of the courts before collapsing against Carson. "Jesus, that was creepy."<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck," he says. "What's got you all excited?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I'm talking about," you gasp. "Those guys back there."<br/>
<br/>
"It was just four guys playing tennis," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"A really strange group of four guys," you say. "I've never seen <i>those</i> four together."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, bullshit. Javits and Kendra are always with each other--"<br/>
<br/>
"Not without Cindy, and not alone with each other."<br/>
<br/>
"They weren't <i>alone,</i>" he says. "Dane and Kim--"<br/>
<br/>
"And that was weird, too. You saw how Dane was acting. He kept looking over at us."<br/>
<br/>
"And we kept looking over at him. Or <i>you</i> did. Maybe they're back there talking about how creepy <i>you</i> were acting."<br/>
<br/>
"Weren't they making you nervous?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> were making me nervous," he retorts. "With Javits over there and you quivering like gelatin--"<br/>
<br/>
You grab him by the shoulder and close your eyes and take a deep breath. You can't believe you're about to give voice to the churning and incoherent thoughts you're having. "Okay, you're going to call me stupid, and I <i>am</i> being stupid, but if you want to know what my problem is--" You take another deep breath. "You know that book we were talking about earlier? And the things we were talking about when we were talking about it? Well, that book has disappeared. I told you that. Someone took it out of the time capsule." You look around Carson's shoulder, back toward the courts. "And those guys over there were acting really weird, like they weren't ... themselves," you conclude raggedly.<br/>
<br/>
Carson's mouth drops open. "Yeah, Prescott, that's really stupid. You're talking about--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know!" you say miserably. "I don't believe it myself. Really, so stop looking at me like that. It's just-- Well, we were talking about it earlier, and I <i>am</i> a little freaked out by the way the book wasn't in the time capsule. And so when we see those guys, and they're being ... weird ..." You trail off helplessly.<br/>
<br/>
"So you decide to have a fucking psychotic episode, right in front of me." He peers closely at you, and you return him an ugly look. "It's kind of fascinating," he says. "I've never seen someone go crazy before."<br/>
<br/>
Your face twists up. "Alright, fine, I'm being paranoid--"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you're just being stupid," he says in a tone whose kindliness clashes with the content of his words. "You got one fucking powerful imagination. Maybe it's a good thing you <i>didn't</i> hang on to that book."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. "Well, you were putting a lot of it in my head from earlier. All that talk about disguises--"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," he drawls. "I won't tell you any more scary stories." He claps you on the shoulder. "Though it <i>is</i> my turn to make up a campaign for the guys, and I could use the help from someone with your kind of imagination."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He takes you home, but the day's events still prey on you. <br/>
<br/>
It's <i>Dane,</i> you finally decide, that had you so unnerved. The guy's normally like an old bathrobe--big and warm and fuzzy and stinking of weed--and though you don't interact with him that much, he's always been like he was when you met him a week ago: Totally and guilelessly friendly. <br/>
<br/>
But his attitude at the tennis court fairly burned with hostility. And not a warm hostility, but a freezing hostility. You kept hearing laughter from the others, but he didn't seem to joke around. You don't recall even having heard his voice while they were playing.<br/>
<br/>
It was such a marked contrast from when you saw him last week.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it's the drugs. You've heard that they can do that to people. Make them paranoid, even psychotic. You'd brushed him off last week. He seemed to take it well. But maybe the memory has been slowly curdling in his mind.<br/>
<br/>
Your hand goes to your phone. Maybe you should call him, and clear the air.</span></div></div>


path: 113331212
author_id: seuzz
title: People Who Aren't There
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You drop the phone. You're still too freaked out by the day's events.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Monday comes, and you've mostly forgiven Caleb for Thursday, but decide to go find Keith instead. He yelps and spins around when you tap him on the shoulder, then sags when he sees it's you. "Jesus, don't do that," he gasps. "I thought you were--"<br/>
<br/>
"What did you <i>do</i> to him," you ask. "If Javits goes after you today, it'll be, like, five days straight." Keith's bête noir typically makes it only a weekly session with his victim.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't do anything," he whines. "What did <i>you</i> do to the Molester?"<br/>
<br/>
"He does that to everyone," you say, and look nervously over your shoulder. "You've got something special with Javits."<br/>
<br/>
"And it'll be our fourth anniversary next month," he says glumly. "I still remember our first time."<br/>
<br/>
"Speaking of Javits, me and Carson saw him--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't tell him anything about that," Carson says as he materializes behind you. "Don't tell <i>anyone,</i> and stay away from Jenny."<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny?" Keith says in surprise and turns toward you. "I thought it was you and <i>Lisa</i> who were--"<br/>
<br/>
Carson puts a finger in your face and talks over Tilley. "Yumi got in trouble with certain people because she told Jenny about what certain <i>other</i> people had seen. Normally I couldn't give a shit. But I don't want <i>us</i> to get in trouble with certain other <i>other</i> people because we told certain other other <i>other</i> people about something we saw, because those <i>other other</i> people will track it back through those other other <i>other</i> people--"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I get it," you say, even though you're pretty certain you don't.<br/>
<br/>
"Get what?" Keith cries. "A headache? 'Cos that's all <i>I</i> got from--"<br/>
<br/>
"Good," Carson snarls at him. He turns back to you. "It sounds like they're denying everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Who's denying what?" you ask in bewilderment.<br/>
<br/>
"You know who, and about what. I got to talking to Kim Walsh last period--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?" you ask sarcastically. "After you told me not to say anything to <i>certain other people--</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"No, <i>before</i> I told you. Obviously. And that's how come I'm telling you now. Because her and me got to talking about what we did this weekend--" He gives you a meaningful look. "And she denies that she was playing tennis."<br/>
<br/>
"Playing tennis?" Keith asks cautiously, taking advantage your perplexed silence. "Is that a code word for--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," you and Carson say in unison. "You asked her if she played tennis this weekend?" you ask Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"I more or less wound up alluding to it," he says. "<i>She</i> says she hasn't played tennis since school started, because she works on weekends."<br/>
<br/>
"But we saw her," you say. "She knows we saw her."<br/>
<br/>
"Was she naked?" Keith asks. "Because I heard that Kendra Saunders--"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop giving us last week's weather report," Carson yells, and shoves him. "Go away!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not making any sense," you say. "So we saw her--"<br/>
<br/>
Carson raises a warning finger. "Who did we see her with?" he asks. "Who did <i>you</i> say it was weird seeing <i>those two</i> together?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ohhhhh!" you say. <i>Seth and Kendra.</i> "I get it. Now."<br/>
<br/>
"Finally," he snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"So, was she, like, trying to warn you not to talk about ... <i>those two</i> being together?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, no. She was just, all, <i>Oh, yeah,</i>" he says in a faint singsong. "<i>I haven't been able to play since school started.</i> And I'm, like, You didn't play on Saturday? <i>No, I have to work on Saturdays. Oh, hi Marcos. Did you talk to--</i> Whatever."<br/>
<br/>
"So what the fuck are you getting so excited about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, so now <i>I'm</i> the one who's getting all excited, when it was <i>you</i> who was shitting himself on Saturday?"<br/>
<br/>
"So I was right!" you triumphantly exclaim. "It <i>was</i> a weird scene!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it was a <i>dangerous</i> scene! Use your fucking head. It wouldn't mean anything <i>except</i> that Kim and them are all going to deny that it happened. And <i>that</i> means it's <i>not</i> something we should be telling people about!"<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him. "It's all above my pay grade," you say. "Yours too. But I won't say anything if you won't."<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter if you guys say anything," Keith grumbles. "The CIA couldn't figure out what you're talking about."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Okay, so you were right that it was weird for Seth and Kendra to be together. And apparently Kim realized afterwards that it was weird, which is why she is preemptively denying that she was playing tennis on Saturday. Because, obviously, if she wasn't playing tennis with Seth and Kendra and Dane on Saturday, then no one could say that they saw Seth and Kendra together <i>without Cindy</i> while in the company of Kim and Dane.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh. Dane. Of course.</i> You stop in the middle of the hall and sag a little with relief. <i>That</i> must be why he was so edgy on Saturday. Because he knew you and Carson were seeing something that shouldn't be seen. The pieces now fit together, and they form a much nicer picture.<br/>
<br/>
But you can't still can't shake the memory of Dane's frozen, menacing expression.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"How'd you do on that paper for Walberg?" you ask Lisa without any kind of preamble. Classes have let out, and you've rushed to catch her at her locker, which happens to be next to Walberg's own room.<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. "I don't know, Will. You know he didn't give them back this morning."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, how do you think you did? How hard was it for you to write?"<br/>
<br/>
"She did fine, Prescott." A hand jerks you backward, and Geoff Mansfield steps past to get between you and her. "We worked on them together. Didn't we?" He kisses the top of her head.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure you did fine, Will," Lisa says, ignoring your sour expression. "You're much better at those things than you think you are."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, do you think we could get together after he gives them back?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to a concert on Wednesday," Mansfield says.<br/>
<br/>
"No one's playing at the convention center!" you snort.<br/>
<br/>
"University," he says impatiently. "Mozart."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll talk later, Will," Lisa says, and squeezes your arm. Then she closes her locker and goes off with Geoff.<br/>
<br/>
You turn with a muttered curse, then take a surprised step backwards. Dane is standing in the doorway of Walberg's room. "Check it out," he says, and hops lightly out into the hall. "Now I'm in trouble." He hops back over the threshold. "Now I'm safe." Back into the hall. "Trouble." Back inside. "Safe. Trouble. Safe. Trouble. Safe. Trouble. Safe." He giggles. "Talk to me till walrus-butt gets back, Will. I'm bored."<br/>
<br/>
You cautiously follow him into the classroom. "What about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you and Lisa are a topic. What happened to you two? You looked good together."<br/>
<br/>
You start: Dane had noticed you and Lisa? "What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck me, Will, don't be coy." He sucks lasciviously on his teeth. "You know what I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess it was just a summertime thing."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's Mansfield, her wintertime wear?" He makes a face. "Fuck, man, her and <i>Mansfield?</i> Opposites should attract. <i>You</i> should be with her."<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa's gorgeous," you grumble, "so what are you saying about me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I don't mean <i>that.</i> Besides, Lisa doesn't do anything for me. You don't either, but for different reasons." He suddenly sits up, as though hit by a sudden thought. "You know who <i>does</i> do it for me? Amanda!" His eyes light up, and he groans.<br/>
<br/>
"Amanda Ferguson?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's a dissi-- Dissipull-- She's got whips and handcuffs, man, and I'm a naughty, naughty boy!"<br/>
<br/>
You reflect on the image: Yeah, Amanda Ferguson doesn't take shit from people. "Too bad she's seeing Ricky Golia."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Ricky," he snorts. "Yeah, I guess they're opposites, but she's got nothin' for him but a strap-on dildo."<br/>
<br/>
"You like playing matchmaker, Dane?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I just see things," he shrugs. "I talk to the girls-- I love talkin' to the girls. Don't you love talkin' to the girls?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah. You're fun too, though. I'm sorry you didn't call me last weekend. Or the weekend before, I guess it was."<br/>
<br/>
He blinks slowly. "Don't tease me, man, did I fuck something up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess you don't remember. You said you'd forget."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I don't lie about things like <i>that.</i>" He pats his jacket pocket like he did ten or twelve days ago.<br/>
<br/>
You think carefully before going further, then decide to risk it. "I almost ran into you on Saturday, though. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
Again, he blinks slowly, and his mouth pulls down in a huge frown, and his eyes roll in their sockets. "I won't lie there either, Will. I was a slow-cookin' potato all weekend. Whadja see me doin'?"<br/>
<br/>
He certainly wasn't stoned on Saturday, so you take that as a hint. "I didn't see anything, Dane. Or anyone."<br/>
<br/>
"No?" His voice squeaks. "Nice. Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"You're welcome."<br/>
<br/>
If you expect him to wink or to otherwise acknowledge your promise to keep quiet about Seth and Kendra, you're disappointed, for he just stares glassily at you. His expression doesn't change until just before you feel a strong hand on your shoulder. <br/>
<br/>
"You need something, Mr. Prescott?" Walberg growls as he spins you around. "No? Then out." He jabs you in the shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"He thinks you're a buzz kill!" Dane chortles.<br/>
<br/>
"And you," Walberg says, turning on him. "Up straight, feet on the floor, eyes ahead. Now."<br/>
<br/>
Dane bites on his smile before slowly complying. He's still grinning to himself as Walberg shuts the door in your face.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121
author_id: seuzz
title: Kooky Kapers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's not a hugely important deal, so you don't bother Carson until much later in the afternoon, when you call him from home, where you're trying to straighten your desk before starting on your math homework. "So, I talked to Dane this afternoon--"<br/>
<br/>
"That guy?" Carson snorts. "Fucker almost ran over me in the parking  lot after school."<br/>
<br/>
You blink. "Did you stay late or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says. "I didn't leave right away, but I didn't stay <i>late.</i> Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's just that Dane has detention with Walberg after school--" You pull at a loose sheet of paper on your desk, and a whole stack tumbles over.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, I guess that explains why he was in such a hellbent-for-leather hurry, then. Getting away while the getting was good."<br/>
<br/>
You cock your head. "He was already <i>in</i> detention when I saw him," you mutter. "How late <i>was</i> this?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, what does it matter?" Carson cries. "I'm walking to my car and he comes racing along and clips me so hard I spun around twice. Fucker didn't even stop."<br/>
<br/>
"He actually hit you with his car?" You move that fallen stack of paper over to your bed.<br/>
<br/>
"No! He was on foot! Jesus, Dane Matthias behind a wheel?" Carson exclaims. "Dude'd wind up on Saturn."<br/>
<br/>
"You said--! Oh, never mind. Maybe Walberg left and he made a break for it. Anyway, I talked to him." You recount your conversation with Dane as you sort through all the debris. "So I guess the whole denial thing is official."<br/>
<br/>
Carson is unimpressed. "It's <i>Kim</i>'s word that counts. I bet Dane doesn't even remember Saturday."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he said--"<br/>
<br/>
"Lotta thick haze between Saturday and today. On a clear day, relatively speaking, Dane can probably see five minutes into the past."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm feeling better, at any rate" you say. You're eyeballing a sheet of paper that you'd forgotten you had. "After what I said to you on Saturday-- I mean, after we left--" <br/>
<br/>
"I'm so glad," Carson says dryly. "But if I spot any doppelgangers, I'll let you know."<br/>
<br/>
You make a sour face: You shouldn't have reminded Carson of that nonsense you'd been spouting, as now he'll almost certainly make a running joke of it. But it was hard not to, considering what's written on the paper you're holding: <i>Purport to be another</i> and <i>Beware of twins</i> and <i>Dismiss the original person</i> and a few other translated passages from that kooky book.<br/>
<br/>
You try changing the subject by asking Carson for help on that math homework. But one thought will follow on another, especially as your eye keeps returning to those notes. And in the present instance, one thought following on another is like a long line of freight trains rapidly rear-ending each other: Doubles. People in two places at once. Getting people out of the way so a substitute can take their place. "What do you think of Mansfield?"<br/>
<br/>
"I try <i>not</i> to think of Mansfield. And shouldn't you be more concerned about what <i>Lisa</i>--"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think you could keep Geoff distracted Wednesday night?" you blurt out. "Like, maybe you could have an attack of appendicitis, and he's the only guy you can call to take you to the hospital?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a long silence, and you take advantage of it to navigate to a web page showing the university orchestra's schedule for the season. <i>Eight o'clock. WA Mozart, Piano Concerto No. 10 in E flat.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Prescott," Carson says very carefully. "I've asked a lot of very regrettable questions of various people over the years. And I'm going to ask you a question now, one that will probably end up somewhere near the top of a very <i>mortifying</i> list. One that includes the time I asked my Uncle Morris where babies come from, and he told me 'Daddy's sock drawer,' which is how I first came to be naively acquainted with condoms--"<br/>
<br/>
"I want to get rid of Mansfield."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, well, who doesn't? But I'm not going to help you dig up that time capsule so you can--"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, I want him distracted. Wednesday night. I'm going to a concert--"<br/>
<br/>
"No one's playing at the convention center."<br/>
<br/>
"The university." You try out a very Geoff-like sneer. "Mozart."<br/>
<br/>
"Who the fuck is Meowtz-art?"<br/>
<br/>
"Geoff and Lisa are going to this concert, and I want to show up there and I want Geoff not to."<br/>
<br/>
Another silence. "Prescott, is this going to turn into an <i>I Love Lucy</i> episode, with you disguised as an Arab sheikh, and then Ricky comes in and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, never mind. Just see what <i>I</i> have to say when you ask me to keep James distracted so you can get it on with Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not interested in-- Hang on, is <i>Yumi</i> interested in me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one's interested in you. Except when you know how to do number seventeen on the math homework."<br/>
<br/>
You spend the rest of the conversation talking about how to calculate curves.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Tuesday morning,</i> and Walberg is walking up and down the rows of desks, handing back the papers from Friday. People quietly cheer or quietly groan as he comes closer to you and Caleb. Your heart pounds as he sets your paper face down on your desk. You bite your upper lip and glance at Caleb. He sniffs and carefully turns his paper over. He blinks as he looks at it. Then he smiles, and holds it up to show you: There's a big "A" at the top, and the comment "Excellent cultural artifact."<br/>
<br/>
You blink, too. <i>He's not calling Caleb's bluff?</i> Didn't he take notes on what each student submitted? Did he just assume--as Caleb said he might--that he made a mistake on his notes? Or--<br/>
<br/>
You settle back with a Cheshire grin. Maybe it was <i>your</i> paper that convinced him not to call Caleb's bluff. Walberg must have known that you <i>didn't</i> submit an accurate paper about your contribution to the time capsule--and that if he called Caleb on his bullshit, he'd risk exposing the fact that he stole your real contribution from the capsule. That means that <i>you</i> should also have received a good grade on your paper, since he could hardly call <i>your</i> bluff if he didn't call Caleb's.<br/>
<br/>
Smugly you turn your own paper over.<br/>
<br/>
<i>F. See me after school.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your stomach plunges into the earth, far deeper than the bottom of the hole with that time capsule in it.<br/>
<br/>
You watch Walberg closely for the rest of class, but he never calls on you or even seems to look at you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Brooke is weeping by the doorway as you stumble out of Walberg's, but you ignore whatever drama has encompassed her, if for no other reason than because Kelsey is with her, and the less you have to do with Kelsey the happier you will be. <br/>
<br/>
Also, you have the sudden need to shit.<br/>
<br/>
That's a dangerous thing to do during breaks, so you decide to skip your next period and take care of business then. Usually you're much more competent at managing the timing of your bowel movements, but Walberg's note has accelerated certain digestive mechanisms.<br/>
<br/>
When the tardy bell has rung, you duck into a nearby boys' room; luckily, it is deserted, and you take the farthest stall. You're almost finished with your business when you hear the door slam open. <i>Uh oh.</i> You draw your feet up and hold your breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Over here," a voice says, and the door to the next stall bangs back. There's the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. "Keep an eye on the door. Keep people out." <br/>
<br/>
You blink: That's Dane Matthias's voice, and his stoner's rasp has hardened into something masterful.<br/>
<br/>
"We shoulda done it after school," another voice says, and now you gasp: That's Seth Javits.<br/>
<br/>
"I got something scheduled for then," Dane snaps. "And we need this one in a hurry. We're lucky we caught him when we did."<br/>
<br/>
"If we get caught--" Javits says in an uncharacteristic whine.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll get a <i>hall pass.</i> Christ!"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean if someone catches us here, doing this!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's why you're guarding the door. You know how to do <i>that,</i> don't you, <i>Seth?</i>" Dane's voice drips with scorn.<br/>
<br/>
There's a long silence, filled only by the thump of your heart. Then comes the sound of a zipper. "Shit," Dane mutters. "You got the temp?" Another zipper slides with a rasp. Dane mutters again, and then there's a scrambling sound from the next stall. "Okay, you know what to do, right?" Dane says. "Hang out in the library, then ditch school at lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, yeah," says a third voice you don't recognize. "Come back after school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Make it the start of sixth. That's Tony's free period." There are a few more muttered words, and then the squeak of sneakers on linoleum as someone leaves. There's another long silence before Dane speaks again. "Okay, get this to Tony," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"A nice new look for him," Javits laughs.<br/>
<br/>
Dane snorts. "So it's not what he wants. Remind him that we all have to pay our dues." Then there are footsteps, and the door to the restroom softly closes.<br/>
<br/>
You exhale raggedly, and then you have to shit some more. You tremble as you stand up and wipe yourself. You have to talk to someone about this--probably Carson, as he's the only person who would even begin to understand what you're talking about. <br/>
<br/>
For you don't care that you recognized two of those three voices. That was not Dane Matthias, and that was not Seth Javits.</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211
author_id: seuzz
title: Paranoia and Paranormality
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You lurk in the bathroom until the bell rings again, then hotfoot it to your next class. You're edgy, and pay no attention to any studies until the bell sounds for lunch. That's when you rush to find Carson.<br/>
<br/>
He's at his locker, peering over the heads of the crowd as though trying to spot someone. "Oh, hey," he says in a distracted voice when you dash up. "You seen--?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna talk. Just you and me." You grab him by the elbow.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is--" <br/>
<br/>
But his words are lost as you tug him toward the door leading out behind the wings. You glance around, and spot an empty place near a corner. "Listen, I skipped class today and hid out in the bathroom, the one in B wing," you tell him when you've got him alone. "And while I was in there, something really weird and creepy happened." In a hurried and fragmented way you relate what you'd overheard. He has to ask you to repeat what you'd said, and after taking a deep breath, you give him a more coherent recital of the incident. "It wasn't Seth and Dane," you finish with a gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"So it wasn't Seth and Dane," he says slowly. "What are you saying?"<br/>
<br/>
"Remember Saturday? Guys who weren't acting like themselves? Dane and Seth and Kendra and--" You catch your breath as Carson's eyes widen: Maybe, against your own expectations, he <i>is</i> going to take you seriously. "It was like those two guys from Saturday had showed up, and it was <i>them</i> in the bathroom!"<br/>
<br/>
But instead of quietly consulting with you and questioning you for more details, he just groans. "Will-- Jesus! I told you I wasn't going to tell you any more scary stories--"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to! <i>They</i> acted one out, right in front of me! Well, in the next stall--"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't see anything?" he asks. You shake your head. "So you really don't know what was going on. Maybe it wasn't even them."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>That's what I'm saying! It wasn't them!</i>" You clutch at the front of his shirt. "It was two guys who sounded like them--"<br/>
<br/>
"You were hearing things. It was two other guys. It was Javits and Lynch, or Lynch and Patterson, or--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know their voices, Carson! And Dane called Seth by name."<br/>
<br/>
"Voices can sound weird in the bathroom. Like, one time Paul comes into the bathroom, and when I heard his voice I coulda sworn it was Jessica Garner--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know what I heard!" you insist. "Seth Javits was letting Dane Matthias bully him around!"<br/>
<br/>
Carson's face twists up with pain and pity: Ioeger may be a prick, but he isn't cruel. "Alright, I can see you're really freaked out, Will--"<br/>
<br/>
"Damn right!"<br/>
<br/>
"But it's not <i>doppelgangers.</i> I mean, Jesus, listen to yourself!"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you about that book. And it's on the loose. <i>Someone</i> has it."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" he asks wearily.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I gave it to Walberg, but--" Your voice catches in your throat. You'd briefly forgotten about your upcoming meeting with Walberg. <i>If he has it--</i><br/>
<br/>
"Listen, Prescott," Carson says. "I'm going to take you seriously here, because you really are flipping out on me." He rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Let's assume you're right, that there are doppelgangers of Dane Matthias and Seth Javits running around." But he can't keep his lips from briefly twitching. "Let's just ask a simple question. What's the worst that could happen?" You blink, for you have no answer. So he answers for you: "They have themselves a little fun. Maybe fake-Javits gives Tilley an extra wedgie. Fake-Dane gets stoned with his friends. It's not like they can <i>replace</i> people."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?" you ask in alarm. The thought of <i>doppelgangers replacing people</i> hadn't actually occurred to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Because their parents and friends would notice. That's what always happens in these stories," he says sardonically. "You <i>said</i> they were acting out of character. So even if I take this seriously, these-- Oh, God. These doubles can only get up to <i>mischief</i>. They can't try anything worse without being caught."<br/>
<br/>
"But what if they <i>do</i> try? Or fuck things up for the real people?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>That</i> actually might be fun to see," he says with a dry laugh. "Especially if it's <i>Javits</i> who gets fucked up. Am I right?" You just roll your eyes. "And one more thing, Prescott," he adds with a wry smile. "I don't think <i>you've</i> got anything to worry about."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
He pokes you in the shoulder. "Who the fuck would want to run around pretending to be <i>you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Of course, you're still extremely jumpy, but Carson's skeptical words have given you a little perspective, and you're slightly ashamed for acting so worked up. For he's right: After listening to yourself babble, your fears just sound crazy. <i>And if that tennis game on Saturday is  the worst that can happen--</i><br/>
<br/>
But what was going on in the bathroom?<br/>
<br/>
And you still have to see Walberg after school. And Dane--or someone who looks like him--will be there.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Walberg is straightening up the front of the room when you arrive. Dane is there, too; as he turns to look at you, his eyes light up and his mouth widens in a huge, mischievous grin. You shiver.<br/>
<br/>
Walberg sniffs when he sees you in the doorway. "You got your paper with you, Mr. Prescott," he asks. You show it to him. "You know why you got that grade, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself flush. "I'd rather hear <i>you</i> explain it."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be impertinent." Walberg gestures you over as he lowers his bulk behind his desk. "You were supposed to write about what you put in the time capsule."<br/>
<br/>
"I did." You hold out that paper. "I understood the assignment."<br/>
<br/>
He takes the paper from you, but his eyes are unreadable behind his glasses. "If you want to eavesdrop, Mr. Matthias, do it correctly and turn your desk around," he growls even as he continues to stare at you.<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay, Mr. Dubya," Dane says, and his laugh is a hiss. He drops his head to his desk, but continues to peer up merrily at you and the teacher.<br/>
<br/>
"You gave me a book about hydroelectric dams?" Walberg asks, sounding deeply unimpressed with your claim, with the book, and with you personally.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You tilt your chin. "If you don't believe me, dig up the capsule again and take a look."<br/>
<br/>
Walberg snorts, but remains very still. You stare levelly back at him. You've never been good at bluffing in poker, but you're not bluffing now, which makes it easy to return his gaze.<br/>
<br/>
Walberg grunts, and with a small sigh opens a desk drawer and pulls out a manila folder. He studies its contents. "That's not what my notes say, Mr. Prescott." He drops the open folder onto his desk. "And I remember when you gave it to me." He jabs at the folder with a short, thick finger. You glance down: <i>Prescott: Book in Latin,</i> one entry says.<br/>
<br/>
"You must've gotten mixed up, Mr. Walberg," you say. "It's a book on hydroelectric dams in the capsule."<br/>
<br/>
"You're sure of that?" Walberg asks. You nod. He looks back at the folder, and traces down the list with his fingertip. You notice it stops next to Caleb's name. He gives you a sidelong glance. "Do you really want to go dig up the capsule, and show me?"<br/>
<br/>
"If that's what it takes to prove I'm telling the truth."<br/>
<br/>
You continue to stare at each other. In the silence, you can hear Dane softly laughing.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll be damned, Mr. Prescott," Walberg says. "I guess you <i>did</i> do the assignment. Showed a lot of independent initiative, too," he adds, and puts his tongue in his cheek. He takes a deep breath, and with a red pen strikes out the "F" and replaces it with an "A." "You, uh, changed your mind about putting that other book in there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Walberg," you say as you take your paper back. You don't want to admit to having dug up the capsule to make good on your altered paper.<br/>
<br/>
"You want to spend some time in here with Mr. Matthias?" Walberg asks in a hard voice. "I don't like it when people go snooping through my desk."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't--!" Your eyes narrow. "What makes you think I went snooping through your desk?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you long and hard before replying. "Alright then, I guess the matter's closed. All's well that ends well. At least for <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You leave, feeling more than a little baffled (though relieved) and shut the door behind you. You wait a bit, then carefully creep back to look in through the window in the door. Dane is standing in front of Walberg's desk with an idiotic grin on his face. The teacher's expression, as usual, is unreadable.<br/>
<br/>
A hand touches your shoulder. "Jesus!" you exclaim, and leap almost a foot in the air.<br/>
<br/>
It's Caleb, and he rears back in a surprise equal to your own. "Jesus yourself!" He puffs hard, then nods at the door. "You talk to Walberg yet?" <br/>
<br/>
"I just got through," you say. Your heart is still pounding, both from the talk and from Caleb's surprise appearance; you've not seen him since first period. "What are you still doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Checking up on <i>you.</i> What did he say?" <br/>
<br/>
"He changed it to an A." You show him your paper. "I told him I'd dig up the capsule to prove I wrote about the right book."<br/>
<br/>
"Ha! I told you it was worth-- Did he say anything about <i>my</i> paper?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but I could tell he had his suspicions about it. Oh, and thank you <i>so much</i> for helping me swap out books," you add sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever," he snorts back. He glances at the door again. "But why were you spying on him?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson clearly doesn't believe what you'd told him about the incident in the bathroom. Would Caleb?</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Sense of Cindy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I was just thinking of arguing some more with him," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"About his changing an F to an A?" Caleb exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"No, about-- Eh, forget it." Caleb had no patience with you when you'd complained about the disappearing book.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, Carson also had little enough patience with you, but you'd still like to stick close to him, so when Caleb and Keith find you for lunch on Wednesday, you suggest hanging out with Carson's gang again. "They'll like that," Caleb grumbles as he gives Keith a sidelong glare. "Especially if <i>Javits</i> shows up too."<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I'm sick of you guys treating me like a leper," Keith whines.<br/>
<br/>
"Then do something about your skin condition," Caleb retorts. "You've had Javits all over you like a bad rash." <br/>
<br/>
Keith juts his chin out defiantly and continues marching alongside.<br/>
<br/>
But he changes his mind when your destination comes into view, and he veers away with a muttered "Yeah, I think I'll go eat in an empty classroom." He takes five steps back toward A wing, then breaks into a sprint.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy Vredenburg's face is red and haggard, and Yumi and Jenny are leaning in and cooing sympathetically over her. Carson and Paul are sitting stiffly a few feet away, and the former gives you a hard glance as you sit down. You're prepared to take his hint, and do your best to ignore the nearby scene, but Cindy is talking too loudly for <i>that</i> to be possible. "He was like a totally different person," she gasps, and you can't help stiffening at her words. "He was so-- so <i>cold</i> about it."<br/>
<br/>
"He's always been an asshole, Cindy," Jenny says. Out of the corner your eye, you see Yumi sharply nudge Jenny in the knee. But Jenny ignores it: "I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you," she continues in a slightly louder voice. "You're just getting what lots of other people have been getting."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy lets out a slight wail, and you can't help looking over. This is a very different side to her. She's a cheerleader, and though you follow the gossip enough to know that there is very little love lost between her and Chelsea Cooper, the haughty captain of the squad, you've never thought of Cindy as the "nice" alternative. She's never been nice to <i>you,</i> and those few times you've been around when she's been with Yumi (a fellow cheerleader) she has brutally ignored you.<br/>
<br/>
"But no <i>warning</i>," Cindy cries. "Yesterday everything was totally normal between us. We were even talking about going up the mountains together, just the two of us. We bought matching sleeping bags just last week!" You can't help thinking of Cindy, in a sleeping bag, cold and snuggling up for warmth next to--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ugh. It would be Seth Jav--</i><br/>
<br/>
You look up sharply at Carson. He's still staring at you, and his eyebrows twitch with a renewed warning. You bite your tongue, and continue to listen.<br/>
<br/>
"What did he say, exactly?" Yumi gently asks.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy makes a croaking noise. "It's over," she says, and you can't tell if she's quoting Javits or making a mournful declaration. She sniffles hard. "He looked right at me and said he didn't want to see me anymore."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I said. Asshole." Jenny hisses hard.<br/>
<br/>
"What did the other guys say," Yumi asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," Cindy says. "And I wasn't looking at them. But then <i>Kendra--</i>" she suddenly snarls. "<i>She</i> was all smug, and she just said, Oh, Cindy, we'll find you someone new."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, her and Chelsea were <i>clearly</i> behind it," Jenny says.<br/>
<br/>
They continue to talk, and you continue to listen, and Carson continues to stare grimly at you. You have no chance to talk with him until the bell has rung, and then only long enough for him to murmur "Stick around after school" before you break for class.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Mischief.</i> You slump in your seat during fifth period and glare at Geoff Mansfield out of the corner of your eye. <i>Using disguises to fuck people up. Using them to break up relationships. Using them to spread confusion.</i><br/>
<br/>
The desk behind you creaks, and a dirty, sour odor wafts around you. You turn around, and Keith glares back at you. His shirt is wrinkled and stained. "The fuck--" you mutter, and put a hand to your nose.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'da been safer with <i>you</i> guys," he says. "Javits found me."<br/>
<br/>
"What did--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just say I had to change shirts afterwards." He tugs at the front of his collar.<br/>
<br/>
"When was the last time you washed that thing?"<br/>
<br/>
He flips you off, and slumps. You turn back around.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, at least that proves the real Seth Javits is still around,</i> you reflect. Still, there will come a point--if it hasn't come already--when the real Seth has to learn that he has supposedly broken up with Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
Unless, of course, it <i>was</i> the real Seth who broke up with her. If that was the real Seth you saw on Saturday with Kendra--<br/>
<br/>
You twist in your seat. It can't be doppelgangers. That's stupid. That's what Carson is going to tell you after class. He knows you're going to freak out, and he's going to give you a really hard talking to. The best thing you can do is calm yourself so you can be cool with him and tell him that he's absolutely right and that you've put your stupid paranoia behind you.<br/>
<br/>
Except yesterday you heard two people who certainly didn't act like who they otherwise seemed to be. And there's a magic book on the loose that purports to be the kind of thing that can create doppelgangers.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Last period.</i> You jog your leg nervously as you wait for a chance to break into the conversation so you can speak to Kim Walsh. She's talking to Ricky Golia at the moment, and though she doesn't seem much interested in the topic--some party that Meghan Ferris is planning--it would be rude to interrupt. And a little weird to interrupt it by asking about--<br/>
<br/>
You're not even sure you <i>want</i> to ask her about it. Carson had warned you that the topic was supposed to be off limits.<br/>
<br/>
But when Ricky turns back around and Kim takes out her phone, you go over and slip into the seat next to her. "Hey," you quietly ask. "Did you hear about Seth Javits and Cindy Vredenburg?"<br/>
<br/>
She turns, and her pale blue eyes are grave but empty. But they're empty for only a moment. "Yes, I did," she says. There's no "warning" in her gaze, but she doesn't look happy, either.<br/>
<br/>
"So, do you know what the story is?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's none of your business, Will," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I know. But I saw her at lunch--she was with Yumi and Jenny Ashton, and I was there--and she looked really broken up."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not surprised. But why are you asking?"<br/>
<br/>
You jerk your shoulders. "She just looked really broken up, so I was feeling sorry for her. It really seemed like a shock to her."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm. Well, she wasn't seeing the signs is all," Kim says carefully. "Seth has been--" She hesitates, and her lips whiten as she pressed them together. Then she shrugs. "Well, you saw him on Saturday." She looks back at you, and there is a plain meaning in her eyes: <i>You</i> saw it coming before Cindy herself did, even if you didn't realize it.<br/>
<br/>
You grunt softly. "Yeah, well, I didn't say anything to anyone about Saturday," you reply. "And I don't <i>like</i> talking about Seth, or even thinking about him--" Kim smiles: humorous, but sympathetic. "So, I'm not gonna say anything now, either."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not a big secret. Not <i>now,</i> anyway. But it'll be nicer for Cindy if you don't." She smiles and squeezes your arm.<br/>
<br/>
You go back to your seat. But after you've settled back, you feel a hard, bright shiver go up your spine, and you turn to look at the doorway. It's empty. But you'd half expected to see Kim Walsh standing in it, with a shocked expression on her face, as she looked in to see herself seated in her desk.<br/>
<br/>
You look back over at Kim: her head is bent as she texts on her phone. You'd seen her at the school on Saturday, with those other creeps. But being at the school was something she'd explicitly denied when Carson had asked her. And now here she is admitting to it.<br/>
<br/>
Well, if her denials were part of a cover-up--one that has now been blown by Seth himself--there's no point in continuing to make them. And nothing in her behavior just now struck you as being false to the girl that you vaguely know. In fact, what she has said perfectly explains a lot of things: What those people were doing at the school on Saturday; why they seemed to be acting weird; why there were weird denials afterward; and why Seth just broke up with Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
But it certainly can't explain what you'd heard in the bathroom yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Carson jerks his head and draws you to the side when you find him at his locker after the final bell. "Look, I know what you're going to say," you tell him, trying to pre-empt what will probably be a fierce and tiresome lecture.<br/>
<br/>
"Really," he gruffly replies. "Who's been talking?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink. "Well, I talked to Kim last period," you stammer. You give a summary of what Kim said. "So, the cat's out of the bag. We saw that at lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh." He continues to peer at you. Then he looks to his left and to his right, and pulls you close. "Look, I'm not doing this for you," he says curtly. "But you can come along."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
Again with the warning finger to your face. "First, promise me you won't tell <i>anyone</i> about what I'm gonna show you. That means you don't tell Johansson, and you sure as <i>fuck</i> don't tell Tilley."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the big secret?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's just it, it <i>is</i> a big secret. Biggest one in the school."</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Biggest Secret in the School
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, I can keep a secret," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
He eyes you carefully, then nods. "Come on, then."<br/>
<br/>
 He leads you outside and steers you next to one of the portables. He looks around, then slouches against its corner with his arms folded. "Hang loose while we talk," he says, and his lips hardly move. "You know, just two guys killing time, 'cos there's nothing interesting to do."<br/>
<br/>
You can't relax, not with him talking like this. "What's the deal, Ioeger?"<br/>
<br/>
He keeps his head still, but his eyes shift back and forth, left to right, and over your shoulder. He twitches your shirt and pulls you close. "You know that Black and Patterson and them have that <i>room</i> up in the gym, right? You know the room I'm talking about."<br/>
<br/>
You numbly nod. <i>This</i> can't be the secret, because everyone in the school knows about the loft over the boys' locker room, accessible from the space above the bleachers. The place where Gordon Black and Steve Patterson and those few people that they deign to show favor to can hang out, at any time of day and any day of the week. The place they take girls, even when classes are in session, where they can make out. Where they can take their clothes off and make out <i>hard.</i><br/>
<br/>
No, that's not the big secret, because even though Black and his friends don't boast openly of it--the administration wouldn't allow <i>that</i>--they know that everyone else at Westside knows about it, and they don't pretend not to gloat about it.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," says Carson. "You remember Hutchinson and Carr? Connor and Justin, I mean?" You nod. They were seniors last year, since graduated. Nice guys, but a little wild. "Well, this is something that they found, or they knew about, or that someone showed to them, like they showed to us."<br/>
<br/>
Your guts coil in anticipation. Connor and Justin got in lots of trouble with lots of people. You're not surprised they had secrets. And it appears that Carson is enjoying teasing this one out, for he holds your eye awhile before he speaks again.<br/>
<br/>
"There's ducts up in that loft," he finally says. "They run down through the walls, and into a little room back behind the gym showers. There's a key to that room. And just like Gordon and them have a key to the loft--and the jocks have had a key to up there ever since the <i>Jurassic</i>--well, guys like Carr and Hutchinson, and like <i>me</i> and <i>James</i>--" He grins. "Well, <i>we've</i> got a key to that little room."<br/>
<br/>
"Holy shit," you gasp. "Are you saying--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yep, and keep your voice down. There's a little trick of the acoustics, and if you sit in that room and keep really quiet--because the acoustics probably go both ways--you can hear <i>everything</i> that goes on up in the loft. Clear as a bell."<br/>
<br/>
"Everything?"<br/>
<br/>
He nods, and then grimaces. "Best when it's talk, because no one likes it when Gordon and Chelsea are feeling romantic, and when it's Patterson and--" He makes a face and shudders. "We only use it when we're feeling really curious. Or really pissed off."<br/>
<br/>
You look over your shoulder at the gym. "So which are you feeling?"<br/>
<br/>
He grabs you and pulls you close. "Listen, I'm doing this for Jenny. <i>She</i> doesn't know about the ducts. Only me and James do. And now <i>you</i> do, and if word about it gets out I'll make sure that Black thinks you were down there listening and jacking off while him and Chelsea were--"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright," you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Jenny would <i>kill</i> to know where James and me get some of our information," he says with a grim smile. "It's one of the few things we get to hold over her. But I'm telling you because--" He bites down hard on his lower lip. "Because something <i>funny</i> is going on with Javits--"<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes pop. "You're the one who told <i>me</i> to stop being paranoid!"<br/>
<br/>
"If <i>I'm</i> paranoid, it's about something else," he snaps. "No, I wanna know what Black and them think of what Javits did, wanna know if <i>they</i> think it's funny."<br/>
<br/>
"It was just a normal breakup," you say, and feel slightly dizzy at the corkscrew turns in Carson's intimacies. "You know what an asshole Javits is."<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't you hear what I told you?" he hisses. "I told you that me and James use that place. Not together, usually. One of us has to keep Jenny distracted, and that's what James is doing now. You ever noticed how it's not always both of us out front at lunch?" He gives you a meaningful glance. "Where do you think the other one is?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel the blood drain from your face. "You heard something. Today, or yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we heard something on Monday that <i>really</i> makes this Seth-and-Cindy business smell funny." He puts his arm around your shoulder and draws you close. In your ear, he mutters: "Chelsea's been putting the screws to Gordon to break Seth and Cindy up, and Gordon's been resisting. On Monday they had a huge blow up over it. After school, Gordon was bragging to Patterson and Jason Lynch about how he told her to go to hell, and they were egging him on. They were all, <i>Screw that bitch</i> and <i>She can't tell us what to do</i> and-- Lotta testosterone, let's just say." He releases you. "And now today, this morning, Javits dumps her, and dumps her hard?" His eyes narrow with skepticism.<br/>
<br/>
You blink rapidly as you try to process it all. "So that's why Jenny was so sure Chelsea was behind it," you murmur. Carson grunts. "But there's what Kim said-- And we saw Seth and Kendra together on Saturday," you object.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care," Carson says. "I <i>do</i> want to know what Black and Patterson think of Seth's antics. Because-- Well, because I'm a nosy asshole, and because I'd love to share it with Jenny and tease her some more about me and James's 'inside information'."<br/>
<br/>
"So you don't think it's doppelgangers."<br/>
<br/>
"No, Will," he says with withering acidity. "It's not <i>doppelgangers.</i> And that's why I want you along, so you'll know too."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He leads you to the gym, but he goes in first, after telling you to count slowly to sixty before following. You catch up to him at the showers, and after warning you to be absolutely silent, he leads you around a corner to a small maintenance area. There's a small metal door, no more than five feet high, in one wall, and Carson carefully unlocks it and summons you inside. He pulls the door to after you're both crouched down inside a narrow, dark, dank passage running between the walls of the showers and of the gym proper. There's a duct, plunging from darkness above before disappearing through the floor. A bit of roughly cut metal covers a hole in the duct; it is held in place by some crude clips, and Carson carefully removes it. Almost as soon as it's away you hear voices. They echo hollowly, and they are distorted enough that you can't tell who is speaking, but their words are clear.<br/>
<br/>
"--change of roster."<br/>
<br/>
"Easy enough to handle once Steve's on board. He's for Tony, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's on another job or something. I haven't talked to him since--" The voices overlap, drowning each other out briefly, before one rises over the other. "--not arguing. This place'll be better than using a bathroom, I know that."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the complication? Dave's in, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Last I heard, yeah. But I don't think he's picked anyone out."<br/>
<br/>
"So give him Patterson in the meantime. I mean if <i>Tony's</i>--"<br/>
<br/>
The voices cut off, and there's a thump. "Something wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson rests a hand on your shoulder, and your heart jumps. Did you make a noise?<br/>
<br/>
"Punch this moron for me." You can't be sure, but it sounds like a new voice. Has another person joined them?<br/>
<br/>
"Why, what did I do?"<br/>
<br/>
"You feeling your oats? <i>You</i> keep it under control, too. I know having a new body can go to your head--" Again, individual words drown beneath a babble. <br/>
<br/>
"--keeping in character."<br/>
<br/>
"There's keeping in character and there's losing yourself in character. Take a page from me."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't see any difference when I see <i>you</i> in class." The voice sounds sulky. "And shouldn't you be--" More overlap. <br/>
<br/>
"The point is that we aren't doing this because we <i>like</i> the way things are around here. We're doing it for our health. And if we can make things healthier for people who <i>don't</i> get swapped out-- And if <i>that</i> doesn't sound like a good reason, you two should <i>still</i> get used to being <i>nice</i> to some of the poor assholes that-- been hassling. You're gonna have <i>friends</i> there."<br/>
<br/>
"Like who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Dave for one--"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean--" More overlap, that simplifies only on a lone word: "Interesting."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Now, this guy here and his girlfriend. That was a scene. It gonna cause any problems?"<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson was pissed. I-- Black was too. Long-term, it's a good thing for me, 'cos Chelsea wanted them busted up anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hell, yes. Speaking of Chelsea, <i>she's</i> a prime candidate, isn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a <i>market,</i> Jack. If someone <i>wants</i> to become Chelsea Cooper, we can swap 'em out. If not-- Does it matter that you're porking the real girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"A replacement would be easier to deal with." A phone tweets. "Hang on."<br/>
<br/>
"So, you have access up here now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not till we make a new Steve Patterson. You got someone lined up to replace him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, it's not a market. I guess <i>I</i> could take over for--"<br/>
<br/>
"--about <i>him?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"He wouldn't notice a few lost days."<br/>
<br/>
"You two better beat it. Steve's coming over."<br/>
<br/>
Silence falls, and after a minute Carson replaces the metal cover. Out in the maintenance area, you look at each other palely. "Will," he says, "I want you to tell me <i>everything</i> you remember about that book."<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you should wait until you can tell Carson and Caleb <i>both.</i></span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111
author_id: seuzz
title: Two in a Crowd
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You and he end up at your house, where (as you tell Carson) you still have a few notes from when you'd had the book. He grumbles over them: "You couldn't copy more?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." You describe how hard it was go copy the book, and he is thoroughly alarmed by the time you're done. "I wish you'd told me all this before. Aw, hell, I wouldn't have believed you."<br/>
<br/>
"So, do we call the cops?"<br/>
<br/>
"And tell them what? We'd have to take something to them."<br/>
<br/>
"Like?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Did you do <i>any</i> research on that book? Even a Google search?" You shake your head, and he rolls his eyes. "Well, that's one place we can start. Right now, though, tell me what you did with it." "So, twelve days or two weeks ago, it goes into Walberg's desk, and that's the last you saw of it," he says in summary. "So, it's got to be Walberg behind it all. Unless he gave it to somebody or someone took it from the capsule or--"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," you say, and snap your fingers. "Yesterday, he basically accused me of stealing it from his desk. He asked me if I had second thoughts about giving it to him, and then he said something about how he didn't like people going through his desk."<br/>
<br/>
"So who--"<br/>
<br/>
"Dane. He's been giving Dane detention for a couple of weeks now, for doing just that. Dane's been in there, and you know Dane. He'll get into anything just for a laugh."<br/>
<br/>
Carson tugs on his lip skeptically. "Walberg seems the more likely suspect."<br/>
<br/>
"But how's he doing it? <i>He's</i> still around. I mean, if people are turning themselves into doppelgangers, they'd be disappearing, right? Right along with-- Oh, Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
Carson looks grim. "Yeah. We need to face up to it, Prescott. This isn't just mischief. These people are <i>getting rid</i> of our friends. That's what it sure sounded like up there. 'Replacing', they said."<br/>
<br/>
You sink deeper onto your bed, and wrap your arms around your knees.<br/>
<br/>
"And you're right," he continues. "If they're <i>replacing</i> people, then they themselves would be disappearing. Unless--"<br/>
<br/>
"Unless what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Unless I don't know. We don't know how it works, what the mechanisms are. Is it like possession or body swapping? It says 'masks' here, but that doesn't tell us anything."<br/>
<br/>
You point at another passage. "'Beware of twins'. Shouldn't that mean that it's like shapeshifting? Like, there's the danger of the same person being seen in two different places?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who knows. It was originally in Latin, right? And if you've ever run anything through a translation program and back again, you know the kind of garbage you can get."<br/>
<br/>
A horrible pain starts somewhere near you sphincter and shoots up into and through your chest. "Then we're fucked. We don't know who's doing it or how they're doing it or why they're doing it--"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we know who some of the doubles are," Carson says. "Matthias and Javits, if your ears weren't playing tricks on you. One of those guys today sounded like Gordon Black. And it sounds like Patterson isn't going to be himself for much longer."<br/>
<br/>
"Kim Walsh and Kendra Saunders?" you suggest. "They were with Dane and Seth last Saturday."<br/>
<br/>
"Best to assume that," he nods. "Though we don't want to get paranoid. Well, not much."<br/>
<br/>
"And there's another mystery person out there," you say, and your mouth goes very dry. "There was that third person in the bathroom. I didn't recognize his voice, but he knew what was going on. And Dane or Seth said something about 'catching him' because they needed him in a hurry. Oh God." Your throat constricts. "I think they did a replacement, right there, in the stall next to me, while I was listening!"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep it together, Prescott," Carson says. "We're the only two that know about this, and neither of us wants the other one losing his shit."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow and close your eyes, and a shudder passes through you, but when Carson asks if you're okay, you're able to nod. Still, your voice trembles when you speak again. "I don't like it only being two of us. Should we tell anyone else?"<br/>
<br/>
"They won't believe us. You're a fuck up and I'm a joker."<br/>
<br/>
"But if they come after us--"<br/>
<br/>
"Why would they? We're nobodies, not like-- Oh, <i>shit.</i> You've been running your fucking mouth about it all over the school."<br/>
<br/>
"No I haven't! I told Caleb, I told you-- Well, <i>he</i> told you--"<br/>
<br/>
"And Davis would have been there, and I told Lamont. And if <i>they're</i> telling people-- Fuck!"<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath. "Well, it can't be Walberg doing it, then."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because like I said, he pulled me in after school yesterday. He knows I know about the book, and if <i>he's</i> doing it, he could have done something to me. At least, I assume he--" You stop, for you realize that Carson is giving you a very piercing look. "Carson," you gasp, and your mouth spreads in a rictus. "It's me. I was with you on Saturday, we played tennis, I had a panic attack, I told you about--"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know how this magic works," he says. "I gotta trust you, though." He gets up. "In the future, though, we meet in crowds. For your safety as well as mine."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Crowds,</i>  you think after he's gone. But it's not until you're staring haggardly at the computer that you remember what day it is: Wednesday.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mozart.</i><br/>
<br/>
What could be safer than hiding in a crowd at a concert? <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The foyer is enormous--and very, very beige--so that the large crowd still seems thin, and you feel very conspicuous as you sidle along toward the box office. Partly it's because you feel underdressed, even in polo shirt and slacks, around all the cocktail dresses and dark suits. But you also feel exposed. <br/>
<br/>
You don't realize how exposed you are until you turn around after buying your ticket and crash directly into David Kirkham. "Watch where you're going, Prescott," he says with a smooth and steely malice. You can only gasp. "You gettin' into classical music these days?" he softly asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Why, are <i>you?</i>" you blurt back.<br/>
<br/>
He gently flicks the lowest button of your shirt. "We should get together tomorrow at school. Have a friendly little two-man symposium on the history of the sonata-allegro form and the merits of fugue."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>fugue,</i>" you say with a desperate flipness. "I don't like <i>him.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Pah!" he laughs. "I'll see you around, Prescott. See if we can't change you into a contralto." He saunters off, and disappears into a restroom.<br/>
<br/>
There are lots of things about the phrase "change you" that you don't like.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Where were you  yesterday?" Caleb asks you the next morning. "No one was playing at the convention center," he objects when you tell him you were at a concert, but you're too concentrated on the crowd to clarify.<br/>
<br/>
So they are directly upon you before you see or even hear them, and Caleb has to pull you aside: Chelsea Cooper, Gloria Rea, Kendra Saunders, and Yumi Saito, all laughing loudly and imperiously ignoring everyone else as they breeze by. You turn to watch until they disappear. "It's a beautiful sight," Caleb mutters in your ear. "Until they catch you and give you a black eye."<br/>
<br/>
"It would be worth it," you say, then turn to continue on your way. You take only a dozen steps, though, before veering off toward the library, outside of which you see Carson and Paul and Jenny. They're looking in your direction but don't seem to be watching <i>you,</i> as Jenny for one continues to crane her neck even as you step up. "So what's the latest gossip, Ashlan?" you tease.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh." She looks back past you. "What do you care?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, what do you care?" Carson echoes in a slightly more meaningful tone.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "I just saw Yumi going in with-- Oh," you grin. "You haven't heard back from your war zone correspondent."<br/>
<br/>
"We're not speaking to her anymore," Jenny says archly. "And I don't care who you tell. Spread it all over school. We and Yumi are dead to each other."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Caleb exclaims. "The only reason I hang out with you guys is--"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shirt on, Johansson," Carson growls. "It's called keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. Jenny and Yumi figure she can milk more news if they think she's not friends with us anymore, and gets close to them." He rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You glance over at Paul: He looks utterly miserable.<br/>
<br/>
"Well still, if she's not going to be hanging out with you guys in public, there's no point in <i>me</i> being here." Caleb nudges you and jerks his head toward the main building.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going in," Jenny says, and takes a step toward the gym. "If they see her snubbing me--"<br/>
<br/>
Carson grabs her. "Don't be stupid. James will be back in a bit, and then he'll wander over there to join you, and then it'll just be chaos."<br/>
<br/>
"So keep him distracted," Jenny says. "Where did he even go?"<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes briefly meet Carson's. "You're just getting yourself worked up," Carson says to the girl. "Come on, let's go in the library." She resists at first, but finally suffers to let herself be led away. Paul follows.<br/>
<br/>
"Hang out in Walberg's, get stuff done?" Caleb asks when they're away.<br/>
<br/>
Clearly, James is hanging out in the listening post, and you're dying to know what he'll have heard. And if it's anything like what you and Carson heard yesterday, he will need debriefing, and fast.</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112
author_id: seuzz
title: An Unexpected Rescue
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There are too many risks associated with trying to find James at that ventilation duct. You'd have to go in through the boys' locker room, just when the basketball team is about to break from practice. So you follow Caleb into Walberg's. <br/>
<br/>
The classroom has already begun to fill, and the sight of your fellow students fills you with sudden terror as you step over the threshold. This is the fatal room, where you deposited the book. You'd told Carson that you doubt Walberg's culpability, but you still can't but blanch as you look at the other students. Any of them might be a fake.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey Blankenship: Her father is rich, and has political connections to the city council. She herself cruises about the school like a queen: not with the influence and admiration that Chelsea Cooper, head cheerleader, controls, but with the arrogance of a girl who is going places and disdains the company of those who won't be keeping up. Even now she is turned in her chair and looking back at Brooke Galloway with the faint disgust of a social superior who has been disappointed by one of her inferiors.<br/>
<br/>
Laurent Delacroix: The captain of the wrestling team is big and smooth and easy-going with the confidence of a guy who is popular and knows he is popular and knows how to tease the affections of girls who like to rub thick, sculpted biceps. Even now he is peering back at Emmy Moore with a twinkling amusement.<br/>
<br/>
Martin Gardinhire: One of Mansfield's buddies from the debate team, and poured from the same mold, though he dresses a little more casual than your nemesis. Today, for instance, he enters in polo shirt, cargo shorts, and flip-flops. You draw back as he passes your desk and watch as he hooks his backpack over his chair and sits. He keeps his sunglasses on, and you look away as he turns his head in your direction, for you don't want it to look like you're staring at him.<br/>
<br/>
Geoff and Lisa aren't in class yet, and your heart constricts to think that they might also have been--or are slated to become--victims. You fear for Lisa for obvious reasons; and you fear for Geoff because you can't bear to think of something unspeakable, something false and monstrous, insinuating itself into her affections.<br/>
<br/>
As your gaze slowly revolves about the room, it finally comes back around to Caleb, and you find him regarding you with a slightly alarmed expression. "What?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," he says. "What are we looking at?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," you reply, and hope that you are right.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have much the same feelings of paranoia in second period, and they press in on you such that you exit the class with your head down, for you find it unbearable to look at the students in the hallways. You hurry out a side door, so you can take an outside shortcut to your next class without having to look at so many faces, any of which might be false.<br/>
<br/>
And so you don't see it coming when a swift hand grabs you and a strong arm hurls you against the brick wall. You look up to find Kirkham smiling at you. "Ready for our little symposium, Prescott?" he says, and puts his face so close to yours that you can smell the cinnamon on his breath. "Not a lot of people I can talk music with, and I've beaten what little they know out of most of them." He taps your jaw with a knuckle. "I hope you've something intelligent to say about last night."<br/>
<br/>
Though he isn't holding you, there's no point in trying to run. Kirkham is swift, and he's strong, and he fights very, very dirty. He'd trip you as you fled, and probably kick you in the balls while you were down. "I don't know anything about music," you say wearily. "If you'd like to teach me--" Your face twists up. <i>Teach me.</i> What a horribly mistaken expression to introduce.<br/>
<br/>
And he grins. "Give you an education, you mean?" he softly gloats. "Do you know how to beat time? We can start easy, with a little two-four time, and the progress up to--"<br/>
<br/>
He suddenly vanishes from your surprised sight, and you hear a soft cracking sound. So swift was the blow that you didn't even see your rescuer materialize. And the sight of Gordon Black towering over a bent David Kirkham turns your knees to gelatin, and you half collapse toward the ground, your back scraping against the wall. You look up in a daze, to see Seth Javits standing over you--but he's grinning and watching Gordon. Behind both of them is Steve Patterson: his face betrays confusion and even alarm.<br/>
<br/>
But though Kirkham is bent and clutching his face, he is far from defeated, and he throws a fist at Black. The basketball captain catches it, though, and spins Kirkham around to slam him face first into the wall, right next to you.<br/>
<br/>
"We've had enough of your goddamn shit, Kirkham," he snarls at your tormentor. "If you wanna play rough at Westside, play rough with us." He releases his prisoner only long enough to slam him back against the wall. "We're gonna be watching you, asshole, and every time we catch you--"<br/>
<br/>
"Watch it, Gordon," Seth warns, and even as he speaks Kirkham tries kicking backward at Gordon. Black dodges, then hurls Kirkham into Patterson's arms. The latter puts Kirkham into a headlock, but looks at his friend with an expression of incredulity.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon snarls, and grabs Kirkham by the collar, and pulls his fist back, but Javits puts a restraining hand on him. "Don't break anything, Gordon. Leave it for later."<br/>
<br/>
Black seems to struggle, then he lowers his fist. "Yeah, let's." He ostentatiously smoothes down Kirkham's shirt. "But we'll be watching you, Kirkham. So keep your nose clean."<br/>
<br/>
"If you want to meet after school, I'm game," Kirkham mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not that interesting, Kirkham," Gordon says. "And you really don't <i>want</i> us getting interested in you. Not enough that we <i>want</i> to meet you after school." He jerks his head to the side, and Patterson shoves him away. Kirkham gives the trio of ballplayers a sidelong glance, and then slowly walks off.<br/>
<br/>
"You okay there, Prescott," Javits asks, and offers you a hand. You're shaking, but you take it, and he helps you to your feet. "What was that about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," you stammer back. "Just talking." Seth's expression is open and friendly; Gordon's betrays a slight curiosity; but you have to flinch from Patterson's icy look of contempt.<br/>
<br/>
Javits laughs, and claps you on the shoulder, then he and the others slowly move off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're in a daze all during third period. If you'd heard and seen nothing else before the last break, that meeting with Black and Javits would have convinced you that they were <i>not themselves.</i> You have never seen them rescue anyone, and you've seen them go after lots people--with a lot more violence and viciousness than Kirkham has ever shown--many times. <br/>
<br/>
<i>If we can make life healthier for the other poor assholes around here.</i> That was something you and Carson had overheard them saying yesterday, wasn't it? It  hadn't really registered in your panic and wonderment as you'd listened and talked about it all afterward. It's precise meaning, like so much that you'd heard, was opaque. But now--<br/>
<br/>
"Will, would you please sit up?"<br/>
<br/>
That's Ms. Gladstone, and you jerk up in your chair, for without realizing it you've laid your head on your desk. But even though you direct your eyes to the front, you're not paying attention.<br/>
<br/>
<i>If we can make life healthier for the other poor assholes around here.</i> Is <i>that</i> what all this "replacement" business is about? They've replaced Gordon and Seth; they're going to replace Steve Patterson; they stepped in to save <i>you</i>--one of the "other poor assholes"--from David Kirkham. Could there be an altruistic purpose to all this? Or, at least, do they intend to pay altruistic dividends to other people?<br/>
<br/>
What they're doing is still wrong, it is still evil. But how worried should you be? <i>You're</i> not a bully. You--and Carson and Caleb and James and Jenny and Yumi and lots of other people--stand to benefit. Even if what <i>they</i> are doing is evil, would it be evil of you and Carson to just let them proceed? It's not even like you know how to stop them. Wouldn't it be easiest to just take what is coming? And how wrong would it be to not fight something that you don't even know how to fight?<br/>
<br/>
As long as they are only replacing assholes and bullies and bitches--<br/>
<br/>
But Kim's not a bitch. Dane's not an asshole. <i>Shit.</i> There's no reason to replace either of <i>them.</i> So Kim is student council president, and a bit of a busybody. Her heart has always and obviously been in the right place. And Dane's a sweet, pot-infused goofball, and there would be no merit or advantage in replacing him. Maybe this isn't as innocent a thing as you've been entertaining.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe they <i>haven't</i> been replaced. It's one of the few theories that makes sense, that <i>Dane</i> is the one who took the book, and he's sharing it with people, somehow. If that wasn't <i>Dane</i> you heard in the bathroom, it might just be one of his more hard-headed friends, pretended to be him while he-- Took over for someone else? Stayed home and got high?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Fifth period.</i> You watch Kim carefully. She is totally in character: Sweet, serious, helpful, gracious. Maybe she <i>hasn't</i> been replaced either. Maybe she's one of the conspirators, and is helping them from the outside? She knows what a shit hole Westside can be.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Let's meet after school,</i> Carson had said to you at lunch. But now you're thinking of going up to the loft, to talk to the conspirators, to tell them that you know what' going on--and ask what they're up to.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111121
author_id: seuzz
title: Conspiracies and Confessions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your legs feel very heavy as you trudge out of your last period. You push through the main hallway. People jog and press at you, and their voices and laughter are raucous. You sway slightly on your feet.<br/>
<br/>
You come to one of the main junctions. Ahead of you are the doors that will lead out and to the gym. To the right is a hallway that will take you to the library where Carson is waiting. You pause, indecision weighing heavily on you.<br/>
<br/>
Carson will try to talk you out of it, but you have to know what's going on. You're tired of feeling paranoid all the time.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The basketball team has just started their post-class practice when you arrive, and you climb up to the top of one set of bleachers, where you can watch the drills and practice games, though they don't interest you much. You've heard horror stories about how Black and Patterson run the team, but though they seem strict and demanding, there seems nothing terrible about it. And you're not surprised that they are in charge: Coach Porter infamously lets them handle everything. <br/>
<br/>
Eventually it's over, and the players troop into the locker room, and the other sprinkling of spectators--which include many of the cheerleaders--exit. After about ten minutes the ball players start to exit as well. You see Jeremy Richards, who used to be a friend of yours back in middle school, among them, but he ignores you and you ignore him.<br/>
<br/>
Black, Patterson, and Javits are the last to appear, and they troop up some stairs on the opposite side and disappear around a corner. That's where their secret loft is.<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself. There is still time to change your mind, to go looking for Carson, but you renew your determination to see this thing through, one way or another. But your knees are still shaking as you hop slowly down the bleachers and walk across the empty gym floor.<br/>
<br/>
At the top of the stairs is a shallow landing, on the other side of which, around a corner, is a rough wooden door, painted white. You knock on it: Rap rap rap rap rap rap rap.<br/>
<br/>
No answer. You knock again.<br/>
<br/>
Another long pause, and then the door opens. Gordon Black stares down at you.<br/>
<br/>
He is very big, probably the biggest guy in the school, more than a head taller than you, and massive in the chest and the shoulders and the arms. Normally, you would expect, he would scowl down at you, but his expression now just registers blank surprise. You, in turn, are surprised when he addresses you by name. "Hey, Prescott, what's up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can we talk?" you ask, and repeat the question because your voice has come out as a near inaudible whisper. Seth Javits appears, and he too blinks blankly at your appearance. He and Gordon exchange a startled glance.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess. What about?" Gordon asks.<br/>
<br/>
You bite your lip. It's the moment of truth. You're going to have to confess to what you know. And either they will pretend not to know what you're talking about--in which case they will have to lapse back into character and do terrible things to you--or they will acknowledge that they are not who they appear to be, in which case--<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, I know what's been going on," you blurt out before you can visualize worst case scenarios. "I know that--" You quail, for now Patterson has appeared in the background. "I know that you guys aren't who you appear to be. You're somebody else," you stammer. "And you're only ... pretending to be ... these guys."<br/>
<br/>
The world seems to freeze. The only movement, and the only sound, comes from your heart, which is beating in your ears.<br/>
<br/>
Black turns slowly and looks at Javits, who looks at Patterson, who looks at Black. Then Gordon steps to the side. "How about you come in," he says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I should run. I should run fast and far and not stop running until I drop dead,</i> you tell yourself as you step over the threshold. But it is now definitely too late for that.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon closes the door behind you. "You wanna beer?" he asks. You shake your head. He gestures at a dirty gym mat. "Let's talk about ... things."<br/>
<br/>
You sit, and they sit too, in a circle, with you in the middle. You can't bear to look at them.<br/>
<br/>
"So," Gordon says. "What's this about us ... not being ourselves?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's a book," you say. "It's this book, in Latin. It shows how to make, like, magic disguises." You look up into Patterson's cold, gray eyes, which are usually pools of menace, but which now just burn with an icy curiosity. "I found it, and I tried putting it in this time capsule. For Mr. Walberg's class." You swallow. "It, uh, it disappeared. Someone took it."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>We</i> didn't take it," Gordon says. "In fact, I don't know anything about a book. You guys know anything about a book?" There are grunts from the other two.<br/>
<br/>
"And then on Tuesday I heard something in the bathroom," you say, looking over at Seth. "I was in one of the stalls, and Seth came in with Dane Matthias. I heard them talking, and they were doing something. I recognized their voices, but they weren't talking like themselves." Seth's eyes harden, and he looks over at Gordon and Steve. "And then you guys, this morning, with Kirkham. You guys-- The real Gordon Black and Seth Javits and Steve Patterson don't give a shit about him or what he does to guys like me. And on <i>Saturday</i> I saw--"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you've made your point," Seth says. "Christ." He looks at Steve. "You better call the boss, get him out here." Patterson takes out his phone, and after staring at you hard a minute, gets up to go behind a crate. You can hear him talking in a low voice even while you continue talking with Gordon and Seth.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you want," Black asks, and now his tone is much closer to the real guy's: hard and menacing. "What do you think you can <i>get?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I want to stop walking around feeling fucking paranoid," you say. "You guys <i>know</i> that I know, or you suspect that I know, what's going on. I found that book before you did, and I've got a pretty good idea what it can do. I want to know what you're doing with it. Because if it's just--" You choke a little. "If you're just getting rid of a bunch of assholes and pricks--" Your hand trembles as you point first at Gordon and then at Seth. "And if you're ... trying to make life in this shit hole a little better for, well--" You take a deep breath. "I haven't got anything to worry about, have I? I don't have to worry that you're going to come after <i>me</i> or my friends."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon stares at you and pulls at his chin thoughtfully, then glances back at Patterson, who has rejoined you. "Boss is on his way over," the latter says. "What's the deal?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon grunts, and loosely relates what you've just said. "Interesting," Patterson says. No one says anything further, and you just hang your head and stare at your feet. "Sure you don't want a beer?" Steve asks, and you shake your head again.<br/>
<br/>
You look around with a start when you hear the door open, but you're not terribly surprised to see Dane Matthias step into the room. His eyes are bright, and the corners of his mouth twitch. "Ay! It Will. Be. Prescott," he softly laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"He knows what's going on," says Black. "Says he knows about some book or other--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Dane chortles. "He had a nice little talk with old walrus-butt about it." The three ball players also chuckle, though you can't see what's so funny.  "But what brings you runnin' up <i>here,</i> Will?" Dane asks as he drops onto the floor next to you.<br/>
<br/>
You tell him what you told the other three, about what you know and how you know it, and your deductions about what they are trying to do. His eyes glint and his smile widens as you talk. But you don't like the expression they form, even though there is nothing unfriendly about it. When you're done, he throws his head back and laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Ho. Lee. Shee-ut! If I'd known you were in the next stall--!" He slaps his knee. "You know, I <i>almost</i> came and talked to you about all this. I glad I didn't, though, 'cos I'm gladder you came to <i>me.</i>" He waggles an eyebrow. "You want on the team, you got a spot!" He extends a hand.<br/>
<br/>
You don't take it. The other three also look startled. "Team?" you say. "I'm not asking for-- I just want to know who you are and what you're doing."<br/>
<br/>
"Just what you say we're doin'," he replies. "Makin' life nicer for people. You wanna help?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna know who you are."<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter who we <i>were,</i>" Dane says with a laugh. "It's who we <i>are.</i> You help out, and it won't matter who <i>you</i> were. It's who you <i>will be.</i> Prescott," he playfully adds.<br/>
<br/>
"I just want you to leave me and my friends alone," you say in a whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"That's the easiest thing in the world to do," he replies with a shrug. "Just promise you'll keep quiet about us. And tell us who these <i>friends</i> of yours are who also need to keep quiet."</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Conspiracy Explained
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I just want you to leave us alone," you say miserably. "I'm so tired of feeling paranoid."<br/>
<br/>
The light in Dane's eyes dies a little, and he smiles tightly as he pats your knee. "I know, Will. It's gotta be hard. I wish you hadn't noticed what we were doin'. For your sake more than ours. I mean, you're no threat to us, because no one's gonna believe any wacky stories you tell. But it can't be fun, walkin' around all worried." He sucks on a lip and peers at you. "So how about you just stop worrying about it and worrying other people about it? You can do <i>that</i>, can't you? <i>Not</i> talk?"<br/>
<br/>
You smile nervously. "They already think I'm crazy."<br/>
<br/>
Dane nods. The moment hangs, and you can't believe they're actually going to let you go. But no one moves or says anything.<br/>
<br/>
Until you try to stand up, that is. <br/>
<br/>
Dane restrains you. "<i>Who</i> thinks you're crazy?" he asks quietly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck.</i> You were hoping you could get out of here without having to answer that kind of question. "I don't know," you say evasively. "If they've been gossiping about me and what I've been saying--"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" Dane repeats. "Who'd you tell, and what did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
You're not going to get out of here without saying something. "Well, I told Caleb Johansson about the book, but he wasn't interested, except in being an asshole and telling Carson Ioeger and a few other people what I said about it." Dane laughs good-naturedly. "I don't remember who was there."<br/>
<br/>
"But you said Carson was. Why do you remember Carson being there?" A twinkle comes into Dane's eye.<br/>
<br/>
"Because we saw you guys on Saturday," you stammer. "That <i>was</i> you and--" You jerk your head at Seth. "Playing tennis?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that was us," Dane says. "So did you say something to him about it? That game?"<br/>
<br/>
"I did kind of freak out on him, because I thought you guys were acting out of character. And I freaked out with him after I heard you guys in the bathroom. He just told me I was being stupid."<br/>
<br/>
"Naturally. So is that all?" <br/>
<br/>
You nod. Dane stares keenly at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay then," he says. "Doesn't sound like a problem. You're gonna get teased, so do your best to show you're not crazy. That'll make life nicer for all of us." He stands up, and gestures you to stand up as well. He then takes your hand and gives it a manly shake. "You're a good guy, Prescott. I'm glad we could clear the air. And, uh, if anyone gives you any trouble, like Kirkham or anyone like that, let us know. We've got ways of taking care of them."<br/>
<br/>
You don't like his knowing grin, and look away even as you smile back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The door closes behind you, and then you're alone on the steps. You are briefly tempted--very briefly tempted--to listen at the door, but that would be stupid. There's a better listening post down behind the showers. You run down the stairs and are on the point of running into the locker room when you remember that you'd need Carson's key.<br/>
<br/>
Well, maybe Carson's in the library, so you sprint off to see if you can catch him there.<br/>
<br/>
He <i>is</i> still there, with books and notebooks in front of him, and he jerks his head up sharply when you run in. "Come on, let's go listen at that duct," you say as you grasp at him.<br/>
<br/>
But he jerks away. "Where the fuck have you been?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell you on the way. Let's just--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going anywhere until--"<br/>
<br/>
"But this is--" You sigh as he frowns at you obdurately. "Fine, I guess there'll be time later. Tomorrow or something. But let's get out of here. I don't want them seeing us together."<br/>
<br/>
"Who's 'they' and why don't you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know who I'm talking about. <i>Them.</i> And I don't want them seeing us together because I don't want them thinking--"<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't want that, then maybe you should send me a text message, or maybe we should talk on the phone." A strange light has come into his eye.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That actually makes sense.</i> "Okay, I'm going  home. But we really should get together. Like, at--" You ponder possible locations, but can't come up with anything off the top of your head. "Well, we'll talk later. I'll call you in, like, thirty minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you do that," he growls.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
On your way home, it occurs to you that Carson was behaving a little strangely, like he didn't want to go off with you. But that's probably not so strange as it would otherwise appear. Carson is smart, and he's careful, and he'd talked about only wanting to meet you when there were "crowds" present. So, you guess you can't blame him for being paranoid. And if he's being paranoid, you're going to have to be careful to establish your own identity--that you are not yourself a doppelganger--before telling him what you learned today up in the jock-doppelgangers' loft.<br/>
<br/>
You'll also have to establish that <i>he's</i> not a doppelganger, though you're not as worried about that as you would have been before.<br/>
<br/>
You call him a little before six, having rehearsed how you should present it all to him. There are some brief, guarded pleasantries before you get down to business. "Okay, remember how you shared that big secret with me yesterday, about the duct where we can listen in on Black and Patterson and them?" He assents. "Do you remember what we heard?" He says that he does. "Details, Ioeger. Can you quote any of what they said?"<br/>
<br/>
"They were talking about replacing people," he says in a very guarded tone. "Patterson and Chelsea--"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Good enough for you.</i> "Do you remember them saying something about 'making life healthier for the poor assholes in the school'?"<br/>
<br/>
Your query is met by silence. "It sounds vaguely familiar," he says. "I had no idea what they meant--"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I figured it out," you say. You tell about your encounter with Kirkham and rescue by Black and Javits. "They're getting rid of all the bullies and assholes," you tell him excitedly. "I don't know who they are, exactly, but it's guys like those they're replacing. They replaced Patterson this afternoon--"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa whoa whoa," Ioeger says. "Slow down and give it to me a little bit at a time."<br/>
<br/>
So you go through it, carefully, tracing out the intuitions and deductions you made after your rescue from Kirkham. But Carson is unimpressed. "That doesn't mean anything," he says. "So they're replacing those guys. It means they get pussy. Chelsea and Cindy--or Kendra--and they still get to run the place."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but they're being a hell of a lot nicer about it. They're keeping guys like Kirkham under control. And <i>we</i> don't have to worry about them. Like, they're not going to be coming after <i>us</i> or anyone we know."<br/>
<br/>
That provokes a dead silence on his part. "That's a <i>real</i> leap on your part, Prescott. How can you be so sure?"<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath. "Because I talked to them about it. I went up and saw them in the loft. I talked to Gordon Black and Seth Javits and Steve Patterson and Dane Matthias, and they told me I was right, that <i>that's</i> what they're doing. And they said that as long as we kept quiet about it--"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on!" Carson's voice thunders. "You went up there and you <i>told</i> them that we know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I told them that <i>I</i> knew. I kept <i>your</i> name out of it." Carson is silent. "And they said I'd figured it out right, that they're getting rid of the assholes. And they let me go." He says nothing. "Carson, it's me. I proved that earlier by talking about the duct. Only the real me would know that we went and listened there."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," Carson says, and the neutral tone in his voice can't hide the strain. "We'll talk about it tomorrow." And then he hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, he just needs time to acclimate himself to the idea. It <i>is</i> pretty weird, mostly because it's a great relief. You're now wishing you had gone to see him first yesterday, and taken him with you up to the loft.<br/>
<br/>
You look for him at school the next morning--a Friday--but Caleb intercepts you first, pulling you aside with a frown. "You remember that book you were babbling about, the one that got taken out of the time capsule?"<br/>
<br/>
You start, then relax. Here's your first chance to start putting all that crazy talk behind you. "Yeah, but I've forgotten all about it," you say dismissively. "It all worked out."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he says, sounding distracted. "Would you recognize it if you saw it again?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart makes a sudden thump. "What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's probably nothing," he says. "But your description was pretty vivid. I remember you mentioning those pictures." He looks away with a frown. "It was probably something else--"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Did you see something?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I hope your paranoia isn't catching."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm <i>not paranoid,</i>" you exclaim. "Not anymore." <i>Except suddenly you feel the old tentacles begin to wrap around your throat.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was up at the city library last night," Caleb says. "And I saw Geoff Mansfield and Kendra Saunders together. Which was kind of weird."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, you'd agree to that.</i><br/>
<br/>
"And they had this book with them. They were looking through it. I went over to say hi, and I glanced down at it, and it looked the way you'd described it. Had these weird faces in it, and old script, and I think some of it was Latin."<br/>
<br/>
You just stare at him. "What were they talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't <i>spy</i> on them," he retorts. "But I did hear Geoff say something about bringing it up to school today."</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111212
author_id: seuzz
title: A New Conspirator
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>He doesn't say it, and maybe he doesn't imply it, but you can't help inferring it. If you don't join this team, he'll find another way to keep you and your friends "quiet." <br/>
<br/>
So you have no choice. "Okay, if you really want me to join, I will." Slowly, you extend your hand.<br/>
<br/>
Dane takes it with a grin. "Excellent!" But instead of releasing your hand, he tightens his hold on it. "And now, Will, since you're on the team, and want to show your loyalty, who <i>else</i> has suspicions about us?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit. Is this the price you're going to have to pay for your own safety?</i> Desperately you try to figure out some way to satisfy him without imperiling Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"No one, except me," you stammer. "I mean, I've been talking to people--" You're sure that rumors of your wild ravings must have gotten back to these guys, or soon will. "But no one's believed me. Come on, right? Doppelgangers? Don't be crazy, they keep telling me."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Who</i> keeps telling you?" Dane asks. He continues to grin--an unnerving thing--even as he finally releases your hand.<br/>
<br/>
You rub your knee nervously. "Well, Carson Ioeger." You have to admit that much. "I told him about what I heard in the bathroom. And also, he was with me last Saturday when I saw you guys up here playing tennis. That <i>was</i> you guys, wasn't it?" You look nervously at Dane and Seth. Seth looks at Dane; the latter nods. "I said something about it to Caleb Johansson, too, but not as much. I could tell <i>he</i> wasn't going to believe me. He was making fun of me about it in front of Carson and Jenny Ashton and some of them."<br/>
<br/>
Dane regards you very long and very probingly. "Okay," he finally says. "That'll be easy enough to handle, once we've got you swapped in with someone new."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Get you swapped," he repeats. "That's what we're doing, as you've perceived. If you're on the team, you get to make a swap too. Same as us."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him. Of course, the way he's acting should have told you. "You're not Dane, are you?" <br/>
<br/>
He giggles, and lays on his side, resting his head on his hand. "Sure I am. Now. I haven't always been Dane Matthias, though."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart beats hard in your chest. <i>So they're </i>not<i> just replacing assholes and bullies.</i> "What did you do to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's someplace else," the guy who looks like Dane says. "Don't worry, he's having fun. You know Matthias, he doesn't have a head for business. So, I gave him a shiny toy and took over for him."<br/>
<br/>
"Where is he?" You clear your throat. "I mean, Who is he?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need to worry about that, Will. We're the only four you need to know about. If you ask about anybody else, you're just going to get 'No comment' for an answer." He jerks his chin at you. "So come on. Back to the topic. Who do you want to be? Like with these guys." With another sweep of his chin he takes in the three ballplayers. "Who else in this shit heap of a high school needs a makeover?"<br/>
<br/>
They want you to make a swap. And that would be condemning somebody to death. Why didn't you see this is exactly what was going to happen: That if they didn't <i>kill</i> you they would try to co-opt you, make you complicit in their schemes. "What are you going to do to them?" you ask. "I know you're getting rid of them--"<br/>
<br/>
"We're not getting rid of anybody, Will," Dane says, and his expression turns very serious. "Nobody's getting hurt."<br/>
<br/>
"But the real Gordon, and the real Seth--"<br/>
<br/>
"They're still around, and they'll be coming back. They've just gone on a little vacation."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we better explain what's going on," Patterson says. "How it works."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's a good idea. So, Will." Dane holds up his hand, his fingers and palm spread wide. "We have these things, they're like masks." He pushes his hand toward your face, and you draw back. "We put one onto you, and it sucks out a copy of you." He makes a slurping noise. "We take another one, and we put it onto, oh, Gordon Black." The person who looks like Gordon smiles faintly. "Same thing happens." Again, he makes a slurping noise. "We put Gordon's mask on you, and you turn into Gordon Black. Just like we did with this guy." He gestures at Black. "You walk around pretending like you're Gordon Black. But you know who you are."<br/>
<br/>
"How could I pretend to be Gordon? Even if I look like him--"<br/>
<br/>
"The masks copy everything, Will," Dane says. "Inside and out. Memories and everything. If you step in for someone, <i>no one</i> will be able to tell the difference, if you don't want them to."<br/>
<br/>
Your guts freeze. <i>The disguises can be that perfect? So perfect that no one can tell there's been a replacement made? Then how many other people--?</i> <br/>
<br/>
But Dane continues to talk: "Meanwhile, we put some special stuff in <i>your</i> mask. We put <i>it</i> on Gordon. Now he looks like you. He acts like you, same as you can act like him. But he doesn't know who he is. He's <i>asleep</i> under it. It's kind of like a robot version of you, which is very convenient, 'cos it means it looks like you're still around. And when we take the mask off Gordon, he'll wake up, from a long and beautiful sleep. He won't remember anything, though."<br/>
<br/>
"But if you <i>don't</i> ever take the masks off them--" you start to object.<br/>
<br/>
"They come off at the end of the school year," Patterson interjects. He is staring at Dane. "It's only until then."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," Dane says. "Only for this year. We make things good this year. And next year, the assholes go free. They'll have graduated by then." He shrugs. "Who can they hurt then?"<br/>
<br/>
You ponder this. "But if they don't remember anything--"<br/>
<br/>
"So they don't remember anything. They're young, they're tough, they're resilient. They'll pick up as best they can. And if they wind up in some kind of trouble, because they're confused--" Again, Dane shrugs. "Well, they kind of deserve it, don't they?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Maybe they do, and maybe they don't,</i> you think. But it sounds much more reasonable than the alternative you've been assuming.<br/>
<br/>
"So we're not 'getting rid' of anyone, Will," Dane says. "You don't have to worry your conscience about <i>that.</i>" He fixes his eye on you. "So, are you okay with it?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't really have a choice, do you? "Yeah, I guess so."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay then. So, I'll ask you again. Who are some other guys we should be doing this to?"<br/>
<br/>
You still don't want to answer that question. "Don't you have people picked out? You sound like you've got a plan."<br/>
<br/>
Dane rolls onto his back and then sits up. He looks at you wearily from under his eyebrows. "You've still got a problem with this, don't you, Will?" he says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"No, no," you insist, trying to convince yourself as much as you're trying to convince him. "But if you've got a plan, I can just fit into it, do what I'm told. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
Dane looks at you, and he looks over at Gordon, and at Seth, and at Steve. "Yeah, we got ideas," he says. "But let's hear yours. <i>You--</i>" he jabs you in the knee with his finger. "You ran into Kirkham today. <i>You</i> have some experience being on the other end of his affections, and the affections of guys like him, right? Same as all of us. Right, guys?"<br/>
<br/>
His query is met by silence, and then there are light murmurs of assent from the other three. <br/>
<br/>
"But you have your own experiences and your own perspectives," Dane continues. "You tell us about your ideas. They'll overlap with ours. And maybe you'll have some additions that we hadn't thought of."<br/>
<br/>
He fixes a hard eye on you, and you can tell he's running out of patience. You're going to have to play along.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, there's David Kirkham, obviously," you say. "Lester Pozniak. Gary Chen." Those are the main ones, but they have their hangers on. "Brophy Maddox. Tanner Evans. Dalton Douglas." You glance at Black. "Jason Lynch."<br/>
<br/>
None of these names elicits a reaction. "What about girls?" Dane asks. "Any girls who give you fits?"<br/>
<br/>
"There aren't any girls who bully me," you protest.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not. I mean, are there any who really get on your nerves? They can be nasty, you know. Gordon, tell Will here how nasty Chelsea can be."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea can be nasty," Gordon says, and that's all he says.<br/>
<br/>
Dane rolls his eyes. "So, Chelsea. A lot of the cheerleaders can be bitches."<br/>
<br/>
"Is Kendra--? Is she also--?" You point at the others.<br/>
<br/>
"No comment," Dane says. "Just name some girls."<br/>
<br/>
This is worse than naming guys. "Chelsea, then," you say, fidgeting. "Kendra. Gloria Rea. Cindy." You glance nervously at Seth, but he just stares back stonily. "Kelsey Blankenship?" Dane's eyebrows go up. <i>Damn, that's not someone he'd thought about.</i> "Amanda--" Your voice catches as you see Dane's eyes glint. "Amanda Ferguson."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Amanda!" he exclaims. "She does things to me." He plucks lightly at his the bunched up fabric at his crotch, and spreads his legs with a grimace. "I told you that."<br/>
<br/>
You shiver at the allusion to that earlier conversation, and the realization the he's right about the masks copying everything. He was totally like Dane that afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
But he continues: "We talked about other things that afternoon, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you tell me who you want me to be--" you feebly protest.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," he says. "We'll give you a list of names. You can pick from them." He runs his tongue behind his lower lip. "You wanna see Mansfield's name on that list?"<br/>
<br/>
You were afraid he'd say something like that. <i>Is that how much you'd like to get back together with Lisa?</i></span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112121
author_id: seuzz
title: What About Carson?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stare at the ground for a very long time, swallowing over and over again. <i>You and Lisa. You'd be together again. But it wouldn't be </i>you<i> and Lisa. It would be her and </i>Mansfield<i>. Because you'd </i>be<i> Mansfield.</i><br/>
<br/>
That was an early fantasy you'd had. Well, not a fantasy, quite. An idea you'd had, to use a disguise of Mansfield to get close to her. But you'd not thought out what it would be like, or what you'd do with it. Insofar as you'd thought about, you'd just thought about stealing a kiss from her. Or maybe making problems for him by acting like an asshole with her.<br/>
<br/>
But you'd <i>be</i> Mansfield, with all his advantages. With his air of superiority, and his smarts, and that insufferable, smug coolness.<br/>
<br/>
It would only be for a year, though. Less than a year. More like eight months. But for <i>eight months--</i> And maybe something else would happen at the end of eight months. There'd be a lot of time to think about it afterwards.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'd take Mansfield," you say without raising your head.<br/>
<br/>
"Is there anyone you'd <i>rather</i> be?" Dane asks.<br/>
<br/>
No, there isn't, and you shake your head. You feel terribly guilty as you do so. <i>He's not really an asshole. Except to me.</i><br/>
<br/>
Dane leaps to his feet. "Then let's do it. I can arrange it tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"Now?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't think of a better time," he says. "First--" He crosses over to some rough cabinets behind some crates. "Let's get <i>you</i> copied so we'll be ready for Mansfield." He turns around and holds something up.<br/>
<br/>
It's a mask, in shape and rough form similar to old-fashioned tragedians' masks. There is a brow and a nose and cheekbones and lips and a chin. But there are no eyeholes. The mask itself glows with an eerie blue color. <br/>
<br/>
You rear back as he crouches next to you. "It'll knock you out for a little bit, but everything will be okay." With a sudden movement he thrusts the mask into your face, and the world goes dark.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your eyes flutter open, and you find yourself staring at rough-cut beams and planks that have had a slap-dash coat of white paint thrown onto them. You blink heavily and rapidly, and try to place yourself. You sit up, and your head briefly throbs. You're surrounded by crates and boxes of athletic equipment, and you're laying on an old gym mat. The hell--?<br/>
<br/>
It comes back to you, slowly, like a case of déjà vu. The loft. Gordon and Seth and Steve. Dane. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Dane. That mask!</i><br/>
<br/>
Now you do bolt up. "Hey, sleeping beauty, you doing okay over there?" The voice comes from behind you, and you crane your neck to look. It's Patterson, over by a dorm refrigerator. He's sitting cross-legged and leafing through a magazine, looking bored. He tosses it away. You blink stupidly. "Yeah," he laughs softly. "He told you it would knock you out."<br/>
<br/>
"How long--?"<br/>
<br/>
"About twenty minutes. Twenty-five." You hear a loud slapping sound, and you and Steve both look over at the door. "Gordon and Seth are playing a little one-on-one. I stayed up here to keep an eye on you, make sure you didn't panic or anything when you woke up."<br/>
<br/>
Waking up to find Steve Patterson sitting next to you would panic anyone. "Where's Dane?"<br/>
<br/>
"Went to get Mansfield. Interesting choice."<br/>
<br/>
"He's the wrong one," you mutter. Guilt settles over you like a heavy, wet blanket.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's not like--" You point at him, and he smiles wryly. "I shoulda picked Kirkham or Pozniak or--"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing wrong with picking Geoff Mansfield," Patterson retorts. "He's a smug little prick."<br/>
<br/>
"You have a problem with him?"<br/>
<br/>
Patterson stretches his legs and frowns thoughtfully. "Steve Patterson doesn't like him. Geoff Mansfield has a talent for making people feel stupid. But do <i>I</i> have a problem with him?" The way he utters the pronoun, you can tell it doesn't refer to Patterson. "It doesn't matter how <i>I</i> feel. The boss says it's a good choice. I guess he doesn't think much of Mansfield either."<br/>
<br/>
"Who is the boss? Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter," he says, and his eyes freeze in a characteristic way.  Then he relaxes and sniffs. "Just enjoy your time as Mansfield. Dial the smug down a little, though." He glances at the door. "You wanna go throw a ball around?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm no good at it."<br/>
<br/>
"That doesn't matter. How about that beer you keep rejecting?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, then nod. Your nerves could stand a little steadying. Patterson stretches a long arm over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle, which he tosses to you. It's an expensive micro-brew, and you look up at him surprise. "Yeah, only the best for us," Patterson laughs.<br/>
<br/>
You twist it open and take a long sip. It's smooth and rich, much better than the cheap crap you've usually had. Patterson watches you. You don't return his gaze. After long minutes, Steve scrambles over close to you, and puts his face close to yours. "Keep your head down," he says quietly. "Just be Mansfield. Ignore the rest of us. If you get in some kind of trouble, talk to Dane."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart thumps. It's very weird, but you feel like this person--who looks like Steve Patterson--may be the closest thing you have to a real friend in this group. At least, this warning feels like frank and friendly advice. But it implies something else, too. "There's more going on to this, isn't there?" you ask quietly, fearfully.<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you long and carefully before answering. "No, not really. You got ninety, ninety-five percent of it, and the rest is something you don't have to worry about. But we didn't recruit you. You volunteered. That makes things a little different between us."<br/>
<br/>
"You're recruiting people?" you ask. "Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's covered by the ten percent you don't need to know. As far as you're concerned, there's just me, Black, Javits, and Matthias."<br/>
<br/>
"Kendra? Kim?"<br/>
<br/>
"No comment."<br/>
<br/>
You tug at your hair. "Who are the kind of people you're recruiting?"<br/>
<br/>
Patterson continues to stare at you, and then he pulls up very close indeed. "Prescott," he says very quietly. "If there are other people in your position, other people who might--" His voice drops to a whisper. "Who might come knocking at our door-- You'd better say something. And fast."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow, and blink rapidly, and stare at the floor. <i>That's not what you were trying to ask. You can't let them think that there's anyone else out there who has figured out what you figured out.</i><br/>
<br/>
And then you realize that by your behavior now you've already told Patterson that there <i>are</i> such people. "Carson Ioeger," you say, almost inaudibly. "He knows."<br/>
<br/>
"You said he just thought you were crazy."<br/>
<br/>
"No, he knows." You tell about the ducts, and the way you and Carson eavesdropped. Patterson doesn't react, even after you've finished. "I really, really don't want you guys to do anything to him," you say. And you feel so strongly that you reach up and grasp Steve Patterson by his shirt.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't brush you off. He stares at you, and then blinks and looks away. "Is there any chance he might come up here on his own?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. What about recruiting him?"<br/>
<br/>
"You want a friend, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
That's not exactly what you were thinking, but you nod your head. Because now that Patterson has suggested it, that is exactly what you want.<br/>
<br/>
"We won't hurt him," Patterson says firmly. "I <i>promise</i> you that, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"But if Dane--"<br/>
<br/>
"He's the boss, but there's only one of him," Patterson says. He hesitates. "You say there's a book that he has? A book that lets him do these things?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Don't you know about it?"<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. "The boss only shows us the things he can make. Knowing that there's a book-- Would you be able to recognize it if you saw it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Like I said, there's only one of <i>him,</i> and me and-- and Gordon and--" He catches himself. "Well, if he gets to feeling frisky, we can outnumber him. Especially if we know how he's doing it."<br/>
<br/>
A feeling of dread encompasses you. "I don't want to stir anything up," you say. "I don't know who you guys are, or--" Those feelings of paranoia, which you'd tried to put away by confessing yourself to these guys, return.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to see anything stirred up either," Patterson says. "And the best way to prevent that, is to tell the boss what you told me. <i>Ask</i> him to try recruiting Ioeger. He's going to find out about him anyway, and if he thinks that you were lying to him--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God!" You bury your face in your knees. "I can't--!"<br/>
<br/>
Patterson shakes you roughly. "You have to, Prescott. I told you, I promise that nothing bad will happen to him. The question for you is, where do you want him? Do you want Ioeger around as a friend? Or do you want him on the outside, in the cold? Talking to a thing that <i>looks</i> like Will Prescott, and sharing confidences with it, and plotting with it, and thinking it's his only friend in the world, when really it's calling up Dane <i>every single night</i> and telling him <i>everything</i> that Carson has been saying and doing and planning?" You turn very pale, but he's not done. "And do you want Carson maybe figuring that out, and turning into a paranoid wreck, and maybe hurting himself? Because if he figures out that Will Prescott is a fake, even though it looks and acts and talks just like the real one, he's going to go to pieces."<br/>
<br/>
It's a dreadful picture he's painted, and you don't like either choice. Fooling Carson; or telling "the boss" you want him to join the team.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111121211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Ambush
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Either course of action is fraught with danger for your friend. But Patterson's expression tells you he is serious about one thing: Dane is going to learn about Carson and what he knows. And your own safety means you yourself have to tell him about Carson. You nod your head, though it's more of a jerk or a spasm than an actual gesture of affirmation.<br/>
<br/>
Neither of you speaks any more, and a very tedious hour passes. Gordon and Seth come back up after awhile, but they soon realize you are not being communicative, and Patterson doesn't talk much to them either, and they go back downstairs. You wonder if <i>this</i> is what it's going to be like on this "team": Lots of boring waiting around, punctuated by moments of terror.<br/>
<br/>
Terror indeed. You jump when the door bangs open, and Dane grins in at you. "The fuck are you still doing dressed, Prescott? I need your things." He hurls a pile of clothes at you, and then drops a mask onto it. "Your new life. And I think you got a date tonight, too."<br/>
<br/>
"Carson knows about you guys," you blurt out. Dane blinks, and you repeat what you said. "He knows all about you guys, and what you're doing. I didn't tell you before, because I didn't want you doing anything to him. I still don't. I don't want you hurting him." You're terrified, but you tilt your chin defiantly.<br/>
<br/>
Dane's expression darkens. "So he believed you when you told him--"<br/>
<br/>
"It was the ductwork," Patterson says. "They eavesdropped on us the other day. Well, on <i>you guys.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah," Dane says. A wounded look washes over his face. "You told <i>Patterson</i> about this, and you didn't tell <i>me?</i> Don't you think <i>I'm</i> a nice guy, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"I--" you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
He waves you quiet. "I'm jerking your chain. Still, it's pretty fucked up when you think <i>I'm</i> scarier than <i>Steve Patterson.</i> Right?" He snickers. "Eh, whatever. But what are we gonna do? You have any ideas, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
He peers at you. It's clear <i>he's</i> got ideas, but he wants to see what <i>you</i> would do in his place.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you do have an idea. And though you're sure he'll hurl it back in your face with a laugh, you're going to give it to him. "You let <i>me</i> join this team. What about letting <i>Carson</i> join too?"<br/>
<br/>
Dane's eyes widen. "You want us to--?" His mouth twists into a frown. "That's a pretty messed up--"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with it?" Patterson demands. "We could use the manpower."<br/>
<br/>
Now Dane's eyes really do widen, and he takes a step back. His mouth forms a perfect "o" as he looks at Steve. He looks between you and him. Then he leans against the door frame and stares at the ground. "Whoa. Well, that would be tricky, wouldn't it?" he muses.<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"You came to <i>us,</i> Will. Are we gonna wait for Ioeger to--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Couldn't you go to him, or I could go to him, and--"<br/>
<br/>
"And what?" Dane looks at you sourly. "What would you <i>say,</i> exactly?"<br/>
<br/>
He's right. It would sound crazy. You'd sound crazy. Carson would panic. <br/>
<br/>
You look down in disappointment. <i>You'd really like a friend--</i><br/>
<br/>
There's a very long silence. "If we could figure out a way to make it work--" Patterson says at one point, but doesn't finish the thought, and Dane doesn't reply.<br/>
<br/>
But finally, the "boss" sighs. "How badly do you want this, Prescott? Because we could just leave him alone."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Alone with his paranoia.</i> "I want a friend," you say. "You guys, you're not my friends. Not really. Uh, no offense--"<br/>
<br/>
"None taken," Dane says gravely. "But if Carson doesn't want to play, we <i>will</i> have to bury him. And Prescott--" His voice drops. "<i>You</i> will have to be the one to bury him. I will <i>make</i> you do it."<br/>
<br/>
"What? How come I'd have to--!" you cry shrilly.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going ask you again, Prescott. How badly do you want this? How much are you willing to risk in order to have a 'friend' here?" He lowers his head. "Are you willing to step in and become Carson Ioeger, and bury the real guy under your own face, if he's not willing to join?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrink back with a low groan. It's just getting worse and worse. You have come to really regret your bright idea about coming up here and talking to Dane and his friends. Dane--this pretend-Dane--is as serious as a heart attack about his plans, and about forcing you to abide by them. Every time you accede to him, he finds a way of forcing another terrible choice on you.<br/>
<br/>
You glance away, desperately, and find yourself looking at Patterson. He looks back with a very grave expression.<br/>
<br/>
And, unexpectedly, it's in that expression that you find courage. Patterson has promised that nothing bad will happen to Carson. "I'm willing to risk it," you say, and you surprise yourself with how steady your voice is. "And if I have to--" But you can't say it.<br/>
<br/>
Dane notices your hesitation. "Don't confuse <i>hope</i> with <i>certainty,</i> Prescott," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll risk it," you repeat.<br/>
<br/>
Dane sighs. "Well, shit, man, this is getting complicated. This isn't what I originally planned for. And it isn't what <i>you</i> signed up for, either." He gives Patterson a very meaningful look.<br/>
<br/>
"Sometimes you have to make compromises," Patterson says.<br/>
<br/>
Dane holds his eye, and holds yours too, for a spell. Then he shrugs. "Okay then. We can do <i>that</i> tonight, too. You're gonna have to change your clothes," he tells you. "But leave off Mansfield's mask. Just give me what you're wearing, and hang loose up here." He shakes his head. "You're gonna wish you'd brought a book, because it's gonna be awhile. Steve, let's give Will some privacy."<br/>
<br/>
The two exit, and slowly you change clothes. Mansfield's clothes--boxers, slacks, t-shirt and button down shirt--are too large for you, and they feel very strange as you pull them on. There is a scent on them, and you swallow to realize that it is his scent, and that very soon it will be <i>your</i> scent. Though you are soon dressed, you feel oddly naked: exposed, in his clothes, but without a face to go with it. You feel like you're playing dress up, pretending to be a grown up. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, for it says a lot about how you regard the differences between yourself and Geoff Mansfield.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson comes back in after a few minutes, looking distracted and edgy, and hiding something in his hands. "You want some company up here?"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter."<br/>
<br/>
He nods, and still doesn't look at you. "It's going to be rough for you, Prescott. Do you trust me?"<br/>
<br/>
That's not a question you like having to answer; still less do you like that he feels that he has to ask it. "Yeah," you croak.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm surprised. Glad, but surprised. Here." He holds out the item he's been clutching: another bluish mask. "Go sit behind those crates. Don't turn on the lights. Wait for us to get back."<br/>
<br/>
"What's going to happen?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll know what to do when Dane tells you. And you better do it." He looks at you, and briefly he looks like the Steve Patterson you've always feared: cold and menacing. And then he relaxes, and for a moment he himself looks scared. He claps you on the arm--knocking you a little sideways--and ducks out the door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't have a watch, but at least an hour passes, and it grows dark, before the door opens again, and Gordon comes in. He motions you to stay hidden where you are, and ducks back behind some crates on the other side of the room after closing the door behind him. You continue to wait.<br/>
<br/>
Fifteen minutes pass? Twenty minutes? You look up at soft scraping noises from the door, and muffled voices. The door creaks open, and you hear a voice: Carson's. "You stay out here," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"How come?" another voice asks. It sounds familiar, but you can't place it.<br/>
<br/>
"To keep watch, you moron," he says. "If any of those guys come back, you holler. I hope there's a window I can dive out of."<br/>
<br/>
"If any of those guys come back," the other voice whines, "they'll catch me out here."<br/>
<br/>
You clutch your head and fight a wave of nausea and dizziness. That's <i>your</i> voice. Dane has used that mask of you to lure Carson up here.<br/>
<br/>
"Serve you right, too, for coming up with this stupid idea," Carson grumbles. "Serve <i>me</i> right, too, getting caught, for going along with it." A pale, yellow circle of light appears against the wall opposite the door. There's a pregnant silence before Carson speaks again. "You have anything to say?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like what? Zoiks? Jinkies? Ruh-roh?"<br/>
<br/>
"God, you're stupid." The beam of the flashlight plays through the room, and then you hear the door softly shut. "God, I'm stupid too," you hear Carson mutter softly. "Oh, Jesus Jesus Jesus."<br/>
<br/>
The floorboards creak under his light tread, and then he's on the gym mat. You peek out, and make out his silhouette in the darkness. He turns the flashlight in your direction, and you duck back.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's a flurry of heavy footsteps, a cry from Carson, and a harsh shout from Gordon: "Prescott, get out here!"<br/>
<br/>
Gasping, panting, you stand up. Gordon has Carson in his arms, and the wavering beam from the flashlight hits you full in the face. "I fucking knew it," Carson says, and his tone contains only despair, not anger.<br/>
<br/>
The door opens again. "Put the mask on him, Prescott," says another Will Prescott from the doorway, and you're sure you've never spoken with that kind of authority before in your life. "If you want this to end happily, put the mask on your friend."<br/>
<br/>
"Carson," you gasp, and tears spring into your eyes. "I-- I--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just get it over with," Carson growls, and looks away.</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111212111
author_id: seuzz
title: Another Member for the Team
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Something inside you dies as you step up and push the mask onto Carson's face. It glows briefly, and disappears. Carson slumps, and Gordon drops him heavily to the floor. "Somebody turn on the light," your doppelganger says. A pale yellow light springs on from above; Patterson, looking very grim, is standing in the doorway with his hand on the switch.<br/>
<br/>
You stumble back and lean against a crate. "You son of a bitch," you mutter at your double. "You didn't even give him a chance."<br/>
<br/>
The other Prescott crouches next to Carson, and looks up at you sidelong with a grave expression. "It was hard for you, wasn't it?" he says, and you don't dignify it with an answer. He doesn't seem to expect one. "Would it make you feel any better if I told you he's getting his chance now?"<br/>
<br/>
You just stare back.<br/>
<br/>
Your double grunts. "Patterson, how about you explain things to Prescott. You got a connection with him."<br/>
<br/>
You stare over at Patterson. He cocks his head and leans against the doorway. "You know, we could bury him, right now, just like the boss said we might have to," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to play anymore," you mutter. "You can bury me too."<br/>
<br/>
"But what happens if we don't bury him," Patterson continues, ignoring you. "What happens when he wakes up in ten minutes and finds out that everything's okay? What happens when he wakes up and finds he's got a friend on this team of ours--" He points at you. "A friend who was willing to run a horrible risk on his behalf?" You blink. "What happens when he wakes up, and finds out that instead of burying him when we had the chance, we're not going to do anything to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" you gasp. You look at your double, but he says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"We're not going to do anything to him," Patterson repeats. "I promised you we wouldn't. We'll offer him a spot on the team, but if he turns it down we'll let him go. I mean, who would believe him if he told anyone?"<br/>
<br/>
"He'd be a paranoid wreck," you shout back. "You said so yourself!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, he <i>would</i> have been. But now?" He points at Carson again. "We let him go. He'd be freaked out of his wits for a week, maybe two. And then he'd get tired of being freaked out when <i>nothing happens</i> to him. Oh, we could <i>tell</i> him we're not going to do anything to him, but he wouldn't believe it. But after tonight, just now, when we <i>show</i> him everything's okay?"<br/>
<br/>
Your head hurts too much for you to say anything. <br/>
<br/>
"And maybe he'll join," Patterson says. "That'd be best. Right?" He looks at your other self.<br/>
<br/>
The other Will Prescott shrugs. "It doesn't matter to me. He'll be okay either way." He turns to Gordon. "Come on, Black. Help me change." He and Gordon exit.<br/>
<br/>
You don't say anything after they're gone, and neither does Patterson. This is a test? But a test of "Dane" and his friends? To show Carson that he doesn't have to be afraid? You feel dizzy. There has to be some angle you're not seeing. But even as you stare and stare, you can't see it.<br/>
<br/>
All you can see is the plain fact that Carson Ioeger is totally in their power, and that they say they're going to let him go free. A tiny ray of hope breaks through your dark thoughts. <i>Maybe Carson </i>will<i> understand.</i><br/>
<br/>
Gordon appears a minute or so later, and hands you a mask. Your name glows on its inner surface. "Boss says to put it on Ioeger after he wakes up. It's the fastest way of explaining things to him." He looks down at Carson, and you see that the mask you'd put on him has reappeared. Black twitches it off his face, then pulls Patterson from the room.<br/>
<br/>
You crouch next to Carson, wondering what you'll tell him. The mask is hot and heavy in your hands. It has all your memories, they have told you. Dimly, you begin to understand what Gordon meant: If Carson were to put it on, he'd see--through your own eyes--what you said and heard and did this afternoon. And what Patterson just explained to you.<br/>
<br/>
So you lean forward eagerly when Carson's eyes flutter open. He groans--then sits bolt upright when he sees you.<br/>
<br/>
"Carson, it's me," you say, and try to put your hand on his chest. "Just put this--"<br/>
<br/>
He slaps the mask away with a snarl. "The fuck are you doing," he snarls. "So you're one of them, too!"<br/>
<br/>
"Only since this afternoon," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"A fucking doppelganger."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's me. This--" You hold up the mask. "This is me, too. If you put it on, you'll--"<br/>
<br/>
"If you've got a story, just tell me. Like I haven't heard enough bullshit today."<br/>
<br/>
You sag, and slowly start trying to explain things. Carson says nothing. You tell him a second time, emphasizing the nature of this "test" that he's just been through. Again, he says nothing. You start up a third time, but now he grabs the mask from your hand. "Are you saying that if I put this thing on, it'll all make sense?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Because you're not making any sense <i>now.</i>" He flushes as he looks down at the mask. "And it can't be any worse than putting a gun in my own mouth."<br/>
<br/>
"Ioeger!" you protest, but he just jams the mask onto his face.<br/>
<br/>
His form seems to waver and distend, though it's an effect you can only glimpse out of the corner of your eye: every place on his frame that you concentrate on seems fixed. His clothes don't change, but they do undulate slightly. After a few seconds, you're looking down at another Will Prescott. It's much less shocking this time around.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, he wakes with another groan, and shakes his head as he sits up. As you stare at each other, you wonder what it's like for him, to be inside the body and mind of another person. Of course, it's <i>your</i> body and mind, which means he's probably feeling what <i>you're</i> feeling: what it is like to be Will Prescott. <i>That</i> causes you to frown, for you're suddenly stymied by a very odd question: <i>What exactly </i>is<i> it like to be Will Prescott?</i> You <i>are</i> yourself, which, strangely, makes it very hard to figure out what it is like <i>to be</i> yourself. For you've nothing else to compare it to.<br/>
<br/>
While you're losing yourself in these metaphysical speculations, the other Will Prescott begins to grunt thoughtfully. He doesn't look at you as he furrows his brow and chews on his cheek and mutters to himself. You hope he's only reviewing your salient memories, as you'd hardly like it for him to trawl through such memories as-- Yow! Or-- Eep! Or-- You flinch <i>hard</i> at that one.<br/>
<br/>
The door opens, and now it's Ioeger's turn to wince, for another Carson Ioeger comes in. <br/>
<br/>
It's quite a scene: You are yourself, but are wearing Mansfield's clothes. Carson is looking like you, but is wearing his own clothes. Someone else looks like Carson, but is wearing <i>your</i> clothes. <i>Ah, it's "the boss."</i><br/>
<br/>
The other two don't speak to each other. They just look at each other levelly, and faint flickers of thought and emotion pass over their faces. "Will" glances away for a moment, and then looks piercingly back at his own double; the double sucks in a sharp breath and looks away in turn. They both hesitate, and neither seems willing to speak. It's almost like watching telepaths at work.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it is telepathy, of a sort, for when "Carson" breaks the silence, his remark doesn't make a lot of sense. "So <i>you</i> want to recruit someone else too," he quietly asks. "Will" nods curtly. "More complications, but it's my own fault," "Carson" murmurs to himself. "Yeah, we'll do it, but that's <i>all.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone else?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll find out," the boss says. "Right now, finish getting changed. Maybe you've got a date, and maybe you don't anymore. I'll stay and talk to Ioeger. I'm pretty sure we understand each other. I hope we trust each other enough."<br/>
<br/>
"Enough," your own double echoes. "But yeah, let's talk."<br/>
<br/>
You start to argue, but the boss cuts you off. "Mansfield's car is outside," he says. "Finish making the change out there." <br/>
<br/>
His tone riles you, but he doesn't look like he's going to brook disagreement. And as you leave you recognize another emotion in your chest: Jealousy. Now you feel like the junior partner in your own relationship with Carson. For there is something that he and the boss are sharing, something that only "Carson Ioeger" knows about.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake in a dark car, and blink heavily. You lift a hand and rub your eyes. Where are you? The last thing you remember is Dane Matthias leaning around past Kim Walsh and--<br/>
<br/>
It all comes back to you: the phone call from Kim and the hastily arranged meeting under mysterious circumstances at the school. And, in a kind of double vision, the memory of the fraught afternoon and evening up in the loft.<br/>
<br/>
You settle back with a sigh. Your clothes feel very comfortable now. So this is what it's like being Geoff Mansfield. Or is this what it's like being Will Prescott-being-Geoff-Mansfield? You feel like yourself, but at the same time you feel like--<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and let a light smile play on your face. You're supposed to go over to Ricky Golia's place, meet up with him and Martin Gardinhire and Kelsey and Amanda. Lisa will be there too. Some cards and some snacks and some clever talk. Geoff Mansfield's kind of evening.<br/>
<br/>
But though you already feel quite comfortable as Mansfield, you are also still feeling a little unsettled. Part of it, of course, is the newness of your situation. But you're also still bothered by that odd turn events took up in the loft. Maybe you should just go home and think about things.</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111212112
author_id: seuzz
title: Deepening Shades
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can't do it, and you don't care anymore what they might do to you. You can't play with them if they're going to make you do this to your own friend. You were wrong about them--they were just telling you what you wanted to hear. They're just trying to make you <i>complicit</i> in their own schemes.<br/>
<br/>
You drop the mask, and it clatters dully on the bare floor. "I'm not gonna do it. You can bury me too," you say.<br/>
<br/>
There's a long silence, and then a dim, yellow light springs on. Patterson is standing by the switch, and you can't look him in the face. The other Prescott picks up the mask, but instead of putting it on Carson he sets it carefully aside on a nearby crate. "Let him go," he says to Black, and says it again when the latter hesitates. Gordon complies.<br/>
<br/>
You and your friend stand awkwardly. You look at the floor, glancing up only briefly and fearfully at the doppelgangers. Your own double runs a hand through his hair. "Okay, you guys can go," he says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Neither you nor Carson move. "What's going on?" you croak.<br/>
<br/>
"I said you can go," he repeats. "Well, I guess you'll have to change clothes back." He pulls off his shirt with a sigh and tosses it to you. "I guess this is the way it was always going to work out. But I had to see for sure." He hops on one foot and then the other as he pulls your shoes off.<br/>
<br/>
"That's all?" you blurt out. "You're just throwing us out?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want me to do, Prescott?" he asks in a very irritated tone, and you notice that he's not looking at you either. "I can't have you on the team if you won't-- Well, I suppose I could-- No, that wouldn't work either." He frowns deeply.<br/>
<br/>
You shift, taking a very tentative step toward the door. Patterson stands aside. Carson glances at you, and takes a step too. "I promise we won't tell anyone," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, Prescott," Carson snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"Who would believe you," your double says, sounding very cross. He pulls off his pants and underwear and socks, and tosses them to you. "You can leave those clothes you're wearing down in the gym."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do about Geoff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Let him go, I guess," the other Prescott says. "We're really not that interested in him. He was <i>your</i> idea."<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself turning very red, and you charge out the door and down the stairs. On the dark gym floor you tear Mansfield's clothes off. Carson looms out of the dark and drops your own clothes at your feet. "What was all that about?" he asks in a carefully neutral tone.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to talk about it," you mutter, and bend to pick up your pants.<br/>
<br/>
He grabs you, putting both hands around your throat. "You tell me what the fuck is going on," he shouts. "I've just been through--"<br/>
<br/>
"God damn it!" you gasp back as he throttles you, and you flail at him as well. You twist in his grip and strike at him and finally break free. The two of you pant at each other in the dark. "I just fucked everything up! Or I saved us! I don't know which!"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you really you?" Carson growls.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, fuck you! That other guy--" You wheeze as your breath quickens. "He was the fake, not me! Are you really-- Oh, Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>What if this isn't really Carson Ioeger? What if it's another doppelganger? What if they replaced him </i>before<i> bringing him in? They said the disguises could be perfect. Were they testing you? Are they still testing you?</i><br/>
<br/>
But it doesn't matter if you tell this ... person ... what's been going on this afternoon and this evening. If it's the real Carson, he deserves to know. And if it isn't, you'd just be telling them what you already know about them.<br/>
<br/>
So when he asks you again, you tell him all about it: your rescue that afternoon from Kirkham, and how you got to thinking that the doppelgangers' plans might be relatively benign, and how you went to visit them. You tell how they offered you a "spot" on the team, and how you felt compelled to accept. Hurriedly, you gloss over the way you'd chosen Mansfield as a disguise of your own, and how you'd asked them to bring Carson himself onto the team. And you try to explain what had just happened up in the loft, though you're far too puzzled by their actions to make sense of it. "I thought they were just going to bring you up there so we could all talk about things," you insist. "I don't know why they asked me to--" You're dressed, and the two of you are outside in the parking lot by this point, and you glance up fearfully at the loft, where a light still burns. "I couldn't go through with it, though." Carson says nothing, so you ask about his afternoon: "What were <i>you</i> doing up there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I was snooping," he replies in a low growl. "You called me-- Except I guess it wasn't <i>you.</i>" He also glances up at the window. "That <i>person</i> suggested we try breaking into the loft. I thought it might be a trap."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why did you go?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I was being brave. I guess I was just being stupid. Maybe I still am."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by <i>that?</i>" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind, Prescott." He turns, but pauses. "I don't want to talk to you anymore. I don't want to see you anymore. I'm gonna pretend I don't know you."<br/>
<br/>
"Carson!" you call after his retreating back, but he just trudges off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You go home and hide in your bedroom. Sleep, when it finally comes in the early morning hours, is a restless time filled with nightmares. You're late getting up, and when you appear downstairs after repeated summonings, your mother looks at you in alarm. "Are you feeling okay, honey?" she asks. <br/>
<br/>
You shake your head, and that's not the only thing about you that's shaking; you're trembling all over like you have chills and fevers. <br/>
<br/>
She touches your forehead. "It doesn't feel like you've got a temperature," she says. "But maybe you better stay home. Just for the morning. It's Friday anyway." You smile wanly at her, and return to your bedroom to flop onto your bed.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you <i>are</i> sick, but it's probably only nerves. You can't bear the thought of going to school. <i>They</i> will be there, and you have no idea who <i>they</i> will be, beyond the ones you already know about. Maybe Carson is one. They told you that the disguises could be perfect. Of course, if they have replaced Ioeger, then he wouldn't have shoved you away so brutally, would he? He'd have tested you, tried to stay close to you. Except shoving you away would have been in character for him too. You'd told him what they told you about the masks, that they could copy memories and personalities as well, and it's clear that if you suspect him of being a fake, then he will suspect <i>you</i> of being a fake too. A doppelganger of Carson, to keep the illusion as intact as possible, would act like he didn't trust you anymore. Which means, you realize with a miserably sinking heart, that you would never be able to tell when or if you were ever talking to the real Ioeger. It'll be the same for him. Patterson's warning--that Carson might be overwhelmed with paranoia--returns to you. And now <i>you're</i> suffering the same doubts. The doubts you'd had yesterday, after listening to them at the ducts, are nothing next to the excruciating doubts you suffer now. <i>They</i> might be anywhere, and anyone.<br/>
<br/>
At ten thirty your phone rings. You almost decide to ignore it, for it shows Carson's number, but answer it anyway. "Hey Prescott," he says, sounding far more chipper than you think he should. "Where are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Home," you mutter. "I don't feel good. Where are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm skipping too. Wanna get together, talk about things?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, come on, man. We can't just--"<br/>
<br/>
You hang up. He tries calling again. You turn off the phone. And then you do some more thinking.<br/>
<br/>
It's very weird--so weird it feels like it <i>has</i> to be a good idea--but you feel like you can trust doppelganger-Patterson more than you can Carson. It takes some searching, but you manage to find Patterson's number. "I have to talk to you," you tell him in a nearly inaudible voice. "I'm going crazy."<br/>
<br/>
"I was afraid you might," he says in a guarded but sympathetic tone. "I've been keeping an eye out for you." You have to smile wryly: Before yesterday, you'd have been terrified of the thought of Steve Patterson looking for you at school.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm skipping," you tell him. "But I can go in. I'd like to talk to you. Uh, should Carson Ioeger have been trying to call me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably," he says. "Depends on what you guys talked about last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Last night he told me he didn't want to see to me anymore. But he just called me now, and was all, like, Hey, how about we get together? Like nothing was wrong."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson says nothing, and you hold your breath. It would be too much for him to tell you their plans, to tell you that they replaced Ioeger and are trying to lure you into a trap. That would be too much to expect of him, wouldn't it? You have no idea what you want him to say.<br/>
<br/>
"You need to talk to <i>someone,</i>" Patterson says at last. "I don't know that it would do you any good. I don't know that it would do <i>me</i> any good. But I think <i>I'd</i> like to talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate a good long time before deciding what to do.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111121212
author_id: seuzz
title: A Change of Place
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Either course of action is fraught with danger for your friend. But Patterson's expression tells you he is serious about one thing: Dane is going to learn about Carson and what he knows. And your own safety means you yourself have to tell him about Carson. You nod your head, though it's more of a jerk or a spasm than an actual gesture of affirmation.<br/>
<br/>
Neither of you speaks any more, and a very tedious hour passes. Gordon and Seth come back up after awhile, but they soon realize you are not being communicative, and Patterson doesn't talk much to them either, and they go back downstairs. You wonder if <i>this</i> is what it's going to be like on this "team": Lots of boring waiting around, punctuated by moments of terror.<br/>
<br/>
Terror indeed. You jump when the door bangs open, and Dane grins in at you. "The fuck are you still doing dressed, Prescott? I need your things." He hurls a pile of clothes at you, and then drops a mask onto it. "Your new life. And I think you got a date tonight, too."<br/>
<br/>
"Carson knows about you guys," you blurt out. Dane blinks, and you repeat what you said. "He knows all about you guys, and what you're doing. I didn't tell you before, because I didn't want you doing anything to him. I still don't. I don't want you hurting him." You're terrified, but you tilt your chin defiantly.<br/>
<br/>
Dane's expression darkens. "So he believed you when you told him--"<br/>
<br/>
"It was the ductwork," Patterson says. "They eavesdropped on us the other day. Well, on <i>you guys.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah," Dane says. A wounded look washes over his face. "You told <i>Patterson</i> about this, and you didn't tell <i>me?</i> Don't you--"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want you doing anything to him," you repeat, much more hotly.<br/>
<br/>
Dane shrugs. "Sure. Why would we? Who would believe him? And the only person he can talk to is, well, <i>you.</i>" A queer half-smile creeps up the side of his face.<br/>
<br/>
Your scalp crawls. "I don't want him getting paranoid or freaking out or anything," you say. "I don't want him figuring out that--" You stumble over the horrible words. "That the person he's talking to isn't <i>me!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"How would he figure that out, Prescott?" Dane quietly asks. "The fake you is gonna act just like you. It's gonna know everything that you know. He won't be able to tell--"<br/>
<br/>
"But if he does--"<br/>
<br/>
"Then you better not say anything to him," Dane bluntly says. His eyebrows shoot up. "You, uh, you weren't <i>planning</i> on telling him that we've turned you into Geoff Mansfield, were you?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel sick, but Dane's right. The only way to keep Carson from freaking out totally is for you to keep your mouth shut, and to let your own replacement just carry on as though nothing has changed. "And what are you going to do? Are you gonna <i>spy</i> on him?"<br/>
<br/>
Dane's expression tightens. "Well, we'll have to keep eye on him, listen to what he's thinking and saying about us--"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want--!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want <i>what</i>, Prescott?" he interrupts you. "You don't want him freaking out? Then we're gonna have to <i>keep</i> him from freaking out. We're gonna have to tell him comforting little bedtime stories so he doesn't figure out what's going on. And who better to tell him those stories than--" At least he has the grace to hesitate over the name. "Who better than Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
Your stomach heaves. "You're going to use me, the fake me, to--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's for his own good," Dane says. "That's what you want, isn't it? For him to feel better?"<br/>
<br/>
He's got you, because he's right. There's nothing else to do but to let him use your own replacement to try lulling Carson into a sense of safety.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, get changed," Dane says. "The sooner you get into Geoff Mansfield's life, the sooner you can stop worrying about all this."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake again, this time with a slight headache. You rub your eyes and forehead, and sit up. Your clothes fit you better. <br/>
<br/>
"How do you feel?" a voice asks. It's Patterson, still sitting nearby. "How many fingers am I holding up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Three," you say, and hold up a stiff middle finger. You notice that your own nails are neatly trimmed.<br/>
<br/>
"It hits you fast, the new personality, doesn't it," Patterson says with a small smile.<br/>
<br/>
You suppose that it does, though you don't feel all that different. Mostly you feel very calm and cool-headed, and you let out only a slight grunt as you get to your feet. You smooth down your shirt. "Is there a mirror in here or anything?" you ask. Patterson jerks his head toward a corner, and you stride over.<br/>
<br/>
Geoff Mansfield looks back at you. Geoff fucking Mansfield. His dark eyes gleam faintly with curiosity, and his jaw tightens. You look your new reflection up and down. There's nothing very special about the clothes, and you straighten your shirt again and pluck at the pleats in your pants. You check your pockets: keys, some loose change, the clip with a few bills in it. You pat your back pocket for the wallet, and moved by a sudden curiosity you pull it out. Geoff's face smiles back from the drivers' license, and you look between it and the mirror. Your face is a little more mature looking, and you're not flashing the wide smile on the ID. You twitch your lips into a faint and knowing smirk. You brush down a stray strand of hair.<br/>
<br/>
"So what are your plans," Patterson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"A little get-together at Ricky Golia's place," you say, and for a moment your voice sounds strange in your ears. "Some cards, some snacks. Ricky and Martin'll be there. Amanda and Kelsey. Lisa." You check your watch, and lightly brush its face: it's a much nicer time piece than Will Prescott has. "I'm running late."<br/>
<br/>
"I meant long term," Patterson says. "What are your plans for Mansfield?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't thought about it," you say. "Obviously. Play it as it lays for a little while, at least."<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna fuck things up for him?" Patterson lets his head fall a little to one side. "Why did the boss ask if you wanted to be Mansfield?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess <i>he</i> knows things you don't," you retort. "Prescott--"<br/>
<br/>
There's an authentic jab of jealousy at the name, under a top note of <i>schadenfreude.</i> Your lip twitches a little: Schadenfreude, a word that you know now, now that you're Geoff Mansfield. You finger a button thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You'd watched them over the summer, Lisa and Will, not closely, because your paths rarely crossed. But you'd seen them, the lovely and succulent Lisa with the gangly, goofy, scarecrow-like Prescott. It was such a silly scene. He had no notion what to do with her, he was all elbows and knees and awkward hands around her. Grinning and prattling and dropping a stiff arm around her in a way that he probably thought was easy and natural but which had all the grace of a dead tree limb falling onto her shoulders. You could tell she was just being indulgent and you could see the coolness in her eyes when she looked at him. He was too dense to see it, but it still made you seethe.<br/>
<br/>
But you'd gotten her. It had only taken a few judicious words. A casual observation to Kelsey that Prescott would look awful at any parties that Lisa tried dragging him to; another casual word to Amanda that Lisa really was blooming beautifully for her senior year; whispers to Gardinhire that you thought you were falling in love with Lisa; some discreet help to Golia in landing that internship with the congressman, and his promises that he'd return the favor when you started looking for positions of his own. (Ambition looks good to girls.) The first week back at school you'd made your move, leaning in over Lisa and carefully but casually asking her out for a coffee, where you'd listened closely and sympathetically--the first of several discreet not-quite-dates, culminating in the night at Kelsey's when you softly interrupted yet <i>another</i> one of her monologues by putting your arm around her waist. She'd blushed and stumbled at that, but you'd only smiled and silently encouraged her to just keep talking. So deftly did you drop the strands of the net around her that you'd had no need for an awkward "Are we going steady" discussion. You had simply </i>shown<i> her that you were her man--and that </i>she<i> was your woman.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Prescott what?" Patterson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott doesn't matter any more," you say. "I'll see you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Play it as it lays.</i> The easiest thing is to just go over to Golia's. But you, or Mansfield, or <i>somebody</i> doesn't feel like seeing anyone. You call Ricky and gruffly tell you'll be skipping, and just go home, where you restlessly do some reading before going to bed.<br/>
<br/>
Despite spending a night and a morning in your new life you still feel oddly distant from things, and let Geoff's instincts guide you. Those instincts--perhaps under the influence of your own diffidence--are to be quiet and a little moody. You see Lisa just before (and during) first period, and she asks you what's wrong; you brush her off, though not rudely. The vague irritation you feel acquires a focus during first period when you see Will Prescott. He says nothing, and you say nothing to him. But you find yourself resenting him and his presence inside your mind. It bothers you, or Mansfield, or <i>somebody</i> that he's inside your head.<br/>
<br/>
And then comes second period, and you're staring out the window when you catch sight of Carson Ioeger out front. He's pinned between two guys in letterman jackets, and as you watch they hustle him off in the direction of the gym.<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw clenches: <i>What are those bastards up to? They promised--!</i><br/>
<br/>
But that's one of Will Prescott's old problems. Is it yours?</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112122
author_id: seuzz
title: A Last Night at Home
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stare at the floor for a very long time, swallowing over and over again. <i>You and Lisa. You'd be together again. But it wouldn't be </i>you<i> and Lisa. It would be her and </i>Mansfield<i>. Because you'd </i>be<i> Mansfield.</i><br/>
<br/>
That was an early fantasy you'd had. Well, not a fantasy, quite. An idea you'd had, to use a disguise of Mansfield to get close to her. But you'd not thought out what it would be like, or what you'd do with it. Insofar as you'd thought about, you'd just thought about stealing a kiss from her. Or maybe making problems for her by acting like an asshole with her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You could be Mansfield.</i> She wouldn't be with Mansfield, she would be with <i>you.</i> But she'd think it was Geoff. What was that thought you'd had earlier? Something <i> unspeakable, something false and monstrous, insinuating itself into her affections.</i><br/>
<br/>
"No," you say. "I wouldn't want to see Mansfield's name on a list."<br/>
<br/>
Dane shrugs. "Well, it was just a thought. There's lots of candidates. You know what this school is like."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, you know what it's like.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Okay, me and the guys will talk about it," Dane continues. "We'll come up with a list and talk to you about it tomorrow. You'll pick someone, and--" He chucks you in the knee.<br/>
<br/>
"And I'll take their place," you mutter. You glance up. "It's only for a year, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. No one wants to be Gordon Black or Seth Javits after they've left school. There's nothing for them after graduation. Is there, Black?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a bed of roses now," Gordon grumbles, but doesn't amplify.<br/>
<br/>
"So come on, Prescott, chin up," Dane says. "You'll have a great senior year. You'll make it a better senior year for lots of other people, too, depending on who you pick." He helps you to your feet. "Think of it as a work of altruism."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Dane Matthias using a word like 'altruism.' Yeah, this </i>definitely<i> isn't the real guy.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They let you leave, and it's not until you're driving home that you remember that you were supposed to go find Carson. But you don't really feel like talking to him. You really couldn't tell him about your talk with Dane and the other guys, and it's probably best to keep a distance from him anyway. And in a day or two, it sounds like, it won't even be <i>you</i> that he'll be talking to. <br/>
<br/>
You frown as you sit at an intersection. <i>There's going to be a doppelganger of you walking around. It will be a perfect duplicate. What might it say to him? What might it say to other people?</i> You feel yourself turn a little pale. <i>What might it say to Dane?</i> How can you, or he, or anyone else, keep the thing under control, keep it from talking and letting anything slip? There must be a way, because the people who are pretending to be Dane and Black and Patterson and Javits have doubles of their original bodies walking around. How do they keep their own replacements from talking?<br/>
<br/>
You're distracted by the light turning green, and so you don't dwell on it. You'll just have to ask Dane about it tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
But when you get home, you find yourself distracted by other thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The house looks utterly normal as you drive up and park in front of the garage. The noises and the smells as you enter are also completely familiar. But they are also unfamiliar, for you find yourself paying attention to them. <i>This is your house,</i> but it won't be your house for much longer. You're going to be somebody else, in a different house. You're not going to see this house again, not unless you visit it under an alias.<br/>
<br/>
Your mother calls you from the kitchen, and you jump. <i>She's not going to be your mother for much longer.</i> "What did you say?" you call back in a stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you please set the table? Your brother's disappeared on me."<br/>
<br/>
You don't reply, you just step into the kitchen and start taking plates and glasses down from the cabinet. <i>The next time she asks you to set the table, it won't be </i>you<i> setting the table, it will be a doppelganger of you. Not that she'll notice, apparently ...</i><br/>
<br/>
Your hands feel numb as you set out the plates and the silverware and the other items. The thought of leaving this house is odd enough. Oh, there's been plenty of times when you've wanted to leave the house for a long time and not come back until you're good and ready. You've already had to start thinking about college, and in those moments you've also thought about how you'd be leaving this house, and your parents, and not coming back, except to visit. It had given you mixed feelings--a keen anticipation mixed with a fearful regret--but there had been no hint of the paranormal to it. There'd been no suggestion that <i>something that looked just like you and acted just like you</i> would step in to keep your place warm while you'd absent yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Once, at dinner, your father had mentioned something about your having to move out, or even move away from Saratoga Falls, and to your mortification your mother had suddenly bawled out something about losing her baby. (And your brother had laughed out loud at her calling you her "baby.") Mordantly, you wonder if she wouldn't <i>prefer</i> to have a double of you stay behind after you went off to college.<br/>
<br/>
You slowly and thoughtfully fill the glasses with ice, and set various side dishes upon the table. Your mom brings you up short when she explicitly thanks you for doing the latter unasked. You shrug in embarrassment. You find yourself looking for reasons to stay close to her--instead of hiding in your room--now that it looks like you'll be leaving the house much sooner than you'd ever anticipated.<br/>
<br/>
You're quiet during dinner too, so quiet that your mother asks you if anything is wrong. You say there isn't, that you've just got things on your mind. Your brother sarcastically suggests that it will be the first time ever that your mind hasn't been totally empty. Out of habit, you throw a dirty glance at him, but a retort dies in your throat. <i>He's</i> also going to be something you'll be losing.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, your sense of impending unsettlement is such that after helping to clean up the kitchen you go looking for Robert upstairs. "You wanna go play catch or something in the back yard," you ask as you lean against the door frame.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just something to do. We haven't done that in a long time."<br/>
<br/>
"Haven't you got any <i>friends</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. You want to spend some last time with him, and you don't want it to be so tiresomely <i>normal.</i> "Yeah, but I also got a little brother, and sometimes I'd like to hang out with <i>him.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He blinks and his eyes widen. "Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be normal tomorrow, I promise," you reply. "But how about just tonight we act like we aren't related to each other."<br/>
<br/>
He actually laughs a little at that. "Sure, I guess catch is okay."<br/>
<br/>
"Great. You still have that old catcher's mitt I gave you?"<br/>
<br/>
His jaw clenches, and his eyes turn shifty. "It's around someplace."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's find it, then." You advance into his bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay, it's not here. I lent it to someone."<br/>
<br/>
Something in the way he says it, and the way he shifts in his chair, catches your attention. "Who'd you lend it to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just a guy at school."<br/>
<br/>
"A <i>guy</i>?" you ask skeptically. "You just lend your things to <i>guys</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"I have friends too!"<br/>
<br/>
Yes, he has friends, and you've had them underfoot before, but he refers to them by name, not as "guys." You have a sudden flashback to middle school, and the kind of "guys" that you used to call "guys." You close the door behind you. "Did someone take it from you, Robert?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I told you I lent it to someone!" he hotly declares.<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" you ask again.<br/>
<br/>
He glares. "I don't need you--" He chokes on whatever words he was going to say. "I lent it to Casey Sennik." <br/>
<br/>
That's not a name you've ever heard before. "Who's he?"<br/>
<br/>
"A friend," Robert mutters truculently. The lie is obvious. <br/>
<br/>
But it's equally obvious that the conversation is pointless. "Well, how about we play a board game," you suggest with a sigh.<br/>
<br/>
Monopoly is the only game you can agree on, and since that game is best with more people, you manage to talk your mom into joining. It winds up being quite fun, even when Robert wins, and gloats mercilessly over it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your talk with Robert gets you to thinking, and you toss and turn for a long time in your bed. Dane and his friends probably have Westside well in hand, and as you ponder the names you had given them, you can't think of anyone who seems like a desirable alias.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand: What if you asked to take a spot at Schuyler Middle School, where Robert attends? You don't know this "Casey Sennik," but you can easily imagine that he's a budding asshole. You could explain that you'd like to look after your own brother. And, truth to tell, you'd like to have a little distance from Dane and the others.<br/>
<br/>
So when Dane intercepts you in the parking lot on Friday morning, and slips you a sheet of paper, you're wavering between proposing Schuyler, or just accepting any name he pushes on you. You study the sheet, noting lots of obvious names. Except for-- "What's Mr. Hagerman's name doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
"We need teachers, Will," he grins. "And rumor has it he has a very active social life." He waggles his eyebrows.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111121221
author_id: rugal
title: Tactical Movements
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You want to help Robert, you really do. You might argue, he might be a giant pain in the ass, but he's still your brother and if he's being bullied then it's going to be by you dammit! But really that's in more of a brotherly, sibling rivalry than with any actual malice. Not like this little shit apparently does to him. But would Dane go for it? You'd replace an asshole but that doesn't fit into his plans at all most likely; then again <i>you</i> don't fit into his plans either but he accepted you into his group. But requesting a move to a completely different school? That could be something he finds to be unacceptable. It could piss him off and if you piss him off what happens? Does he use that mask he made of you last night to turn you into some kind of... Will Presbot completely under his control?<br/>
<br/>
Still, however, you can't let what's happening with your brother sit by idly.<br/>
<br/>
Dane notices that you're quiet and wraps an arm around your shoulder. "Will, dude, what's the problem? he asks, "Aww man, don't tell me. You're not happy with any of the names on the list are you?"<br/>
<br/>
You look back at it and it's a good collection of names. Bullies like David Kirkham and Gary Chen, athletes like Jonas Martin and Cameron Huber, bullies and athletes like Hank Pozniak and Jason Lynch, general assholes like Geoff Mansfield and Ricky Golia for the guys. For the girls it's cheerleaders like Maria Vasquez and Eva Garner, athletes like Almida Jones and Anita Nuevo, snooty AP bitches like Kelsey Blankenship and Amanda Ferguson, gossipy cunts like Victoria Rodriguez and Molly Shaw. Great choices if you wanted to stay at Westside, but...<br/>
<br/>
"It's not that it's just that..." you give a pause trying to play for sympathy, "I went home last night and hung out with my brother a bit since it was the last time I'd see my family for a while."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, a little homesickness makin' you hesitate is it?" Dane asks in a sympathetic manner.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "It's not that, it's just that I noticed this old baseball glove I gave him was missing. He says he loaned it to a friend of his named Casey Sennick but I know he's got no friends named that."<br/>
<br/>
Dane nods. "Bully problem seems to run in the family, huh?" he says in a somber tone, "But that's why we're doing this right? To make things better for people like you or people like your brother in the future."<br/>
<br/>
"Right and that's why I'm gonna ask for a really big request." You steel yourself up and look over at him looking him right in the eyes, "Can you get me into Casey over Schuyler?"<br/>
<br/>
Dane withdraws his arm and gets quiet. "You're right, Will, that <i>is</i> a really big request. But I don't know why I should grant it." He notices your expression at that and sighs, "It's admirable you want to help your brother but the focus isn't on a middle school, or Eastman, or Keyserling. It's on here, on Westside, where the center of the asshole universe is located. I don't know this kid, I don't know that school, but..."<br/>
<br/>
You're ready to accede as you knew it was a long shot anyway. You take another look down at the list trying to decide on a name when something catches your attention: Dane seems distracted. He's staring off and you're not sure at what. You look in the direction he's staring in and see nothing so maybe he's just lost in thought? But what is he thinking about that would suddenly pull him off of you like that.<br/>
<br/>
"But I know someone who does." he says quietly before turning to you, "Will, do you really want this?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I do." you say and suddenly you're wondering if you want it to watch over Robert or to put some distance between you and Dane.<br/>
<br/>
"Then we're doing it now." he says.<br/>
<br/>
"What, now?! Before school?!" you ask astonished.<br/>
<br/>
"Before school. We've got twenty minutes but if me or fake-you are back late from school then who cares? I'll go get the stuff from the loft and we're heading right over there once I'm back." The way he says all of this, the "real" Dane is gone. It's that sense of coldness that left you doubtful in the first place and you watch unnerved as he dashes off in the direction of the loft.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"How are we going to do this so fast?" you ask as the pair of you pull up to Schuyler in Dane's old beater.<br/>
<br/>
"I made a phone call to the person who'd know about the school." Dane replies as he stops in front of the school, parking in a space near the office. He looks around and spotting something, whistles and makes a waving motion. You notice a girl, definitely a student, come running over to the car. "Get in." he says motioning towards the back. And when she does Dane's quick in whirling around and slapping a mask onto her.<br/>
<br/>
"Dane." you say slowly, "Who is this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your new home, now get her clothes off." he says simply.<br/>
<br/>
"Dane..." you start.<br/>
<br/>
"Unless you want Will Prescott running around Westside dressed like a 14-year-old girl just do it." he states.<br/>
<br/>
After a long, awkward process of clothes removal and mask switches and outfit changes you're sitting in the front seat of Dane's car looking wholly uncomfortable as you brush some wavy blonde hair out of your face and behind your ear. "Your sister." you say in the voice of Brianna Matthias.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, my sister." Dane replies coldly, "You wanted into Schuyler so bad and now you're in. It's what you agreed too, Will. It's what you said you wanted."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but..." you start protesting.<br/>
<br/>
"But what? You're having second thoughts?" Dane asks and you know it's rhetorical. "I don't know who this Casey is but maybe she does so use her to get lead on him and then switch when the opportunity presents itself. Or don't. Brianna's a popular girl so maybe you can use that to look out for your brother and cut this bully off and marginalize him." He goes quiet once more before speaking in a deathly serious tone, "One or the other. Tell me which one you're picking by the end of the day and that's where you're staying. No ifs, no ands, no buts. Personally I'd prefer you switching into the bully but..." he sighs, "But a choice is a choice. Just hope you make the right one."<br/>
<br/>
With that he kicks you, almost unceremoniously, out of the car and you head into the school off towards Brianna's first class armed only with questions. Far more questions than answers, in fact.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As it turns out, Casey is very, very low on Brianna's social radar. She's aware of the name, maybe the face vaguely, but she's never paid him more than two seconds of thought. She's far too busy worrying about the latest make-up and fashions, of hanging out with her friends, of trying to get a cute boyfriend who's <i>not</i> a huge jerk (not like Josh Humphries, her boyfriend over the summer). But at the moment worrying about Casey seems almost quaint.<br/>
<br/>
You're upset and incredibly unnerved by Dane using his sister, a sister who is isn't any more terrible than other girls her age, who knows nothing about anything, as a pawn to get you where you needed. Or was it to get you where <i>he</i> needed? You <i>did</i> make this change partly to get away from him and the presence he had that intimidated you so much and did little to set you at ease. But he was skeptical about any switch to Schuyler and then, like that, he changes? Why? Does he want distance between the two of you as well and if so for what purpose?<br/>
<br/>
He used his sister like this, had you replace her, to accomplish the objective of getting to Casey. He's obviously not as nice and benevolent as he presents himself as. His intentions, perhaps, are not nearly as altruistic as he presents them; does that mean the same for Black, Javits, and Patterson? You weren't part of his plans originally so maybe he feels he can't trust you with whatever his real plans, if they're different from what he said, are. Or maybe he's some kind of wannabe Knight Templar, a person with ultimately noble goals but questionable "ends justify the means" ethics that could make you hesitant about cooperating.<br/>
<br/>
Dane, or the person wearing his face, makes you uncomfortable. He wanted you to switch to Casey at the first opportunity and you think that more than looking out for your brother that would be good to do just to get away from him a bit. But that's what <i>he</i> wants. He said you had a choice and though he was pushing you in one direction by his own words, if they mean anything, he'd have to respect your choice. He scares you but at the same time you feel you can't leave him to his own devices. It might not make you any better than him but you wonder if the better option would be staying where you are. Someone needs to keep an eye on him, right?</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111121222
author_id: rugal
title: New Teams
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You want to help Robert, you really do, but the idea of going back to middle school is not appealing at all outside of that. Besides they're replacing these people for a year which makes sense as they're seniors but what would that mean for a middle schooler? Does he go back at the end of the year too and you take someone else? What happens when you let him out? A lot of people get growth spurts going into high school so does he age normally under a mask or would he still be 14 when you let him out? And even ignoring all that would Dane go for it?<br/>
<br/>
You glance up from the paper to him. Dane, or the person playing the role of Dane, honestly scares you. Everything about him is so cold and calculating. So scheming. So... soulless. He's not someone you want to piss off or be on the bad side of and you worry that suggesting anything that would deviate from "The Plan" could very possibly put you on his shit list. It's a risk/reward scenario and while the risk is high you're not quite as sure if the reward is enough to justify it. Besides, Robert's a tough kid you convince yourself. He'll be able to deal with it and bounce back and be just fine going into high school.<br/>
<br/>
"So you got any preferences on that list, Will?" Dane says with a warm smile. His expression sours, though in a more friendly and concerned manner, when he gets a good glimpse of your face. "Not good huh? Well this is all about choice so if you've got anyone specific you want, tell me and I'll make it happen. Cross my heart."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, no, it's not that Dane it's just..." you look down at the list trying to think of the right thing to say. "It's just that seeing all of these names and knowing that I've got a better life ready for me and that I can use that to help others? It's kind of setting in that it's all real."<br/>
<br/>
Dane claps you on the shoulder and laughs. "You think this is all in your head or something, right man?" he smiles, "Yeah I was there at first too and not just because Ol' Dane here's done his fair share of shrooms."<br/>
<br/>
You give a weak laugh and look back down at the list. The names, again, are no real surprise: Pozniak, David Kirkham, Lynch, most basketball players (minus the obvious ones), a few football players like Cameron Huber, some wrestlers, Mansfield even though you said no. Among the girls again it's mostly obvious names: every cheerleader (which surprises you), Kelsey, Amanda, Brooke Galloway, Almida Jones, Kristy Suffolk, Victoria Rodriguez and Molly Shaw (both notoriously bitchy gossips), and Anita Nuevo (is she a bitch? she seems to keep out of things really well).<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know if I can choose." you tell him, "They're all deserving I guess so..." you notice Dane giving away a small hint of impatience. "Sorry but, uh, how about I do this? First I close my eyes." you do so, "Then I just sort of move my finger around." again you do as you say, "And then I just point somewhere on the paper and that'll be who I get."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, good choice man!" Dane exclaims as you slowly open your eyes and see your finger resting (mostly) by Anita. "Girl keeps mostly to her own little group. Most people see that as maturity but I think she's just being snooty. The soccer team's respected and she's the captain so, what, she's too good for the rest of us? It'll be nice to bring her back down to Earth though and, you know, she's got those long legs and those muscular thighs and calves..." You notice the trademark eyebrow waggle.<br/>
<br/>
"Do I have to fuck you guys?" you ask in a half-serious(ly worried), half-sarcastic manner.<br/>
<br/>
Dane chuckles, "Nah man. I mean the girl probably has urges though so if you want to, then... well whatever, dude. It'd be your choice and that's what you gotta remember. We're all about choice." He looks as if he's about to leave but stops himself. "Last thing: when we've got things set up we'll meet at the loft. I'll text you so make sure you figure out how to get out of whatever, got it?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The time winds up being during the changeover between 2nd and 3rd period. You get a text from Dane, a very simple "Now.", and detour to the gym and then the loft. You step inside to see Dane, Black, Patterson, and yourself... you'd almost forgot they made that mask of you yesterday before you left but being face to face with yourself, nude at that, is unnerving. "Out of 'em." Dane states simply much to your confusion. He picks up on that. "Your clothes, dude. Unless you want Prescott 2 running around school naked. Go behind that stack of boxes over there." he says gesturing with his thumb.<br/>
<br/>
You comply and remove your clothes behind the box. You lean out and Dane comes by to grab your clothes handing you another mask and some clothes in exchange. You take a breath as eye the mask remembering how it knocked you out yesterday. Taking a breath you close your eyes and bring it to your face.<br/>
<br/>
You come to and shiver. God it's cold in here, a fact you can tell by your nipples... and the fact you're... naked? Where are you and why are you naked? Let's retrace those steps, Anita. Okay so you came in to the gym to see Coach Steward like you do every morning to pick up notes regarding any changes for the various practices throughout the week before heading off to Ms. McCoy's class. Patterson and Black were there, that was a bit odd because you don't see them usually, and after stepping out of Coach's office that's when...<br/>
<br/>
You shake yourself both physically and mentally. God that was strong. You lost yourself for a minute there. A look at very light brown skin, a confirmation of dark-brown shoulder length hair, the B-cup breasts and muscular legs... you're definitely the Puerto Rican soccer captain alright but at least now you know you're still Will Prescott, though you can feel "Anita" in the back of your mind. Gingerly you throw your clothes back on and step back out from behind the stack.<br/>
<br/>
"Hits you hard doesn't it?" Patterson's voice immediately grabs your attention. "You lose yourself at first right? And you've still got that little voice in your head afterwards. It'll go away though after a day or so. Happened with me, probably happened with the others."<br/>
<br/>
"Where <i>are</i> the others?" you ask noticing Dane and Black are nowhere to be found.<br/>
<br/>
"Went to class. Patterson usually skips his 3rd period about once a week to bag a girl and Dane said something about me and you having a connection so he's leaving it up to me to help get you acclimated." he explains.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, I <i>am</i> gonna have to fuck you guys aren't I?" you ask incredulously, "Dios es por eso que pidió a las niñas no?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa whoa whoa, I don't know what you just said but I don't want to fuck you." Patterson protests.<br/>
<br/>
It'd be almost amusing but... "Yeah, I guess I'm still trying to separate myself and Anita." you say shocked yourself, "Heh, she barely even uses it now herself outside of being around some older family. God this is so fucking weird." You groan and look over in his direction, "How do you deal with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, after a day or so it--"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean... <i>this</i>. The book, these masks, these identities, Dane..." You take a deep breath and run a hand through your hair in frustration, "It's just... not long ago I didn't even believe in this shit. Then I see things that make me paranoid, then fucking Black and Javits save me from a bully and now I'm the girl's soccer captain, and a chick no less, and my head just won't stop fucking spinning."<br/>
<br/>
"I kind of don't believe it myself yeah." Patterson replies calmly, "But it is real and I know it's better than what I had. I mean you're better than where you were, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess." you tell him although unconvincingly, "I just don't get why I'm being left out of the loop if they asked me to join."<br/>
<br/>
"You're different, you seeked us out while usually it's the other way around." he says, "Maybe Dane's being extra cautious since you didn't fit into things originally. If there's more to tell maybe he'd tell you in time."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what the deal is with Kim and Kendra?" You ask, "Or how Fatima apparently saw this?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what you think, huh?" Patterson asks and you see a small laugh emerge, "Look I know what you're trying and you can believe whatever you want. But whether or not there's anything to say you're still getting a no comment from me and the other guys."<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head, tell him you'll see him later, pick Anita's things up off the floor and head off to McCoy's class. It's nearly a quarter of the way through and Ms. McCoy isn't happy with your late arrival though she takes your excuse of feeling sick earlier and spending time in the bathroom at face value. Anita's not a bitch at all, she just keeps herself focused on soccer, on her boyfriend, on her rivalry (and friendship) with Jenny Taylor over at Eastman, and on staying away from all the crap the cheerleaders, basketball players, gossips, and drama queens mire themselves in. It's this attitude that gives her a lot more leeway with teachers and you feel a bit bad knowing that Dane's messed with someone who seemingly didn't deserve it.<br/>
<br/>
But you're in too deep now. You can't just walk away, not with what you know and what you've seen, and expect these guys to just let you go quietly. You were, and still are a bit, paranoid over what they were doing but they're probably just as paranoid with making sure their actions stay secret. Is that why they refuse to tell you anything about Kim and Kendra? You've seen them, you've told them you've seen them, yet they say "No comment" even though it seems "No comment" is always as good as a straight confirmation.<br/>
<br/>
Well as a girl maybe you'd have luck approaching one of the other girls, or maybe "girls", but you think about what Patterson said. He's right, you are better off now than you were. Do you want to risk wronging Dane's group? Maybe it's best to just go with things for now.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122
author_id: seuzz
title: A Collision of Conspiracies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You should talk to Carson first, you decide. You should tell him what happened to you this afternoon, and what you've been thinking. You can <i>both</i> go find Black and Javits. Or Dane. That would be safest.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Carson's face is pale and his eyes are bright as you sit down next to him in the library. "Weird stuff's always happening to you lately," he grunts when you tell him an odd thing happened this morning. "What is it this time?"<br/>
<br/>
He listens as you tell about your encounter with Kirkham and try to explain the more benign turn your suspicions have taken. "What if they're just replacing people like Black and Javits and Patterson, and using them to put down the Kirkhams and Pozniaks and-- Well, it's not like we know how to stop them anyway. And it would be like they're doing something good. Wouldn't it?" You spread your hands palm down on the table and take a deep breath. "I was thinking about going to them, or one of them, and-- <i>Asking</i> them what they're doing."<br/>
<br/>
Carson's eyes freeze. Slowly, he hunches his shoulders and puts his head close to yours. "You haven't ... <i>done that already,</i> have you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I wanted to talk to you first. See if you wanted to go with me."<br/>
<br/>
Still, he doesn't blink, and now a slightly feverish light comes into his eyes. "What would you do if I said no?" Plainly, he hates this idea.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'd like to know why you won't come. Give me your reasons."<br/>
<br/>
"Because it's a stu--" His jaw clenches. "We don't want them knowing that we know."<br/>
<br/>
"Which would be worse? Walking around being paranoid? Or understanding what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"And how long do you think we'd be walking around if they knew that we knew what was going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I'm not sure that they're really ... bad guys. It would be easy for them to just try acting like Javits and them. It's the easiest way to stay in character, to keep people from suspecting that something weird was up."<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe--" His eyes, which had been very narrow, now widen so that you can see their whites all around the edges. "Or <i>maybe</i>--" He begins to rock back and forth. "And what happens if I go with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"We both find out what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson looks like he's trying to tuck himself up into a little ball. His face is chalky white, and there is overwhelming terror in his eyes. Then he smiles, and it's like a rictus. "Okay, let's go see them."<br/>
<br/>
Neither of you moves for a moment, for you too are suddenly seized by doubts. But since you've suggested it, and argued for it, you feel like you have to follow through. Slowly you rise, pushing your chair back. And, stiffly, Carson follows.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You watch post-class basketball practice from the bleachers without talking to each other. After a seeming eternity it ends, with the other players exiting the gym, and with Black, Javits, and Patterson mounting the steps up to their private room, where they disappear around a corner.<br/>
<br/>
Neither you nor Carson move for several minutes. "You wanna go listen in first?" You jerk your chin at the changing room.<br/>
<br/>
"No point in that," he says. "Let's just do it."<br/>
<br/>
You've never been up those stairs, at the top of which you find a rough door painted white. Carson raps sharply at it. He has to rap at it again before Gordon Black opens it.<br/>
<br/>
He's enormous, a full head taller than you, with broad shoulders and a massive chest and bulging arms. But his expression, which is usually hostile and daunting, now just registers surprise. "Ioeger," he says slowly. And then, to your bemusement, for you doubt that he knows you: "Prescott. Can I help you guys?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, who are you, and what have you done with the real Gordon Black?</i> "Um," you stammer. "Can we talk?"<br/>
<br/>
"What about?" he asks as Javits appears next to him, also looking quizzical.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, we know--"<br/>
<br/>
Carson touches your arm. "Let <i>them</i> do the talking, Will," he says. "I want to see what they have to say. Or do."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon blinks, and he and Seth exchange a glance. "Hey, Steve-o," Gordon calls over his shoulder without taking his eyes off you. "You got anything you want to say to Carson Ioeger or Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
Behind him--though well-hidden by Gordon's massive frame--Patterson appears. His expression, too, is a blank. "Guys," he says. "Somethin' up?"<br/>
<br/>
No one says anything. The air seems to prickle on your face.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, Carson speaks again. "Will just wanted to say thanks for that good turn you did for him today. It was really cool of you." Gordon grunts; Seth shrugs; Patterson stares. Carson touches your arm again. "Come on, Will. I told you it would be <i>embarrassing.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You jerk, and look rapidly between Carson and Gordon, but Ioeger is insistent, and you let him pull you down the stairs. "The fuck, man--" you gasp at the bottom of the steps when Carson breaks into a run, pulling you along. You explode out the side door, and don't stop running until you've reached the portables, where he slumps to the ground, trembling hard. "I thought we were going to--"<br/>
<br/>
He looks up, and his face combines so many expressions that you can't sort them out. Probably he can't either. "Is it all okay?" he gasps. "You didn't take me up there to--" He shudders hard.<br/>
<br/>
You crouch down next to him. "Ioeger, don't lose your shit." You put a hand out, but he flinches away. "I know it's freaky that they didn't haul us out and drop-kick us over the goal posts. But that's kind of the point, right? That they're actually being decent--"<br/>
<br/>
"That's <i>bullshit!</i>" Carson screams, and shoves you violently away. His face turns a bright crimson, and a froth forms on his quivering lips. "It's <i>bullshit, Prescott, bullshit!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Ioeger! What the--!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not the only one who had something freaky happen to him today! And if you'd had it happen to you--!" He clutches his head, and his face twists up.<br/>
<br/>
"Carson, what's wrong? What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
Tears stream out of them. "They got James," he says, and his voice cracks. "Those fuckers. They got James. My best friend is now one of <i>them!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a confusing story he stammers out, and you have to argue with him over some of the finer points that baffle you, but the gist is this: He sent James in this morning to listen at the duct during first period; when James returned at the beginning of second, he claimed to have heard nothing--nothing at all, not even the usual gossip--but had gotten caught and roughed up in the locker room. But when Carson went to look at the duct at the start of third period, he found it soldered shut. "There's no way they could have found it, and realized what it was, and sealed it up in just an hour," he insists. "They replaced him. Yesterday, or the day before, or last night-- It doesn't matter when. They replaced him, and the doppelganger told them about the ducts."<br/>
<br/>
"But how would a fake know?" you insist.<br/>
<br/>
"They can copy the stuff inside you, too," Carson says in horror-stricken tones. "That has to be it. Because James was acting just like himself, talking to me about stuff that only we know about--"<br/>
<br/>
"But doesn't that prove it wasn't a fake?" you argue, for you don't want to believe that the disguises could be that perfect.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't confirm it until just now, up there," he says with a shudder. "I didn't want to believe it either, I spent all day worrying about it. But up there--" He jerks his chin toward the gym. "James said that Black and Javits were the ones that caught him. They know Lamont and me are friends. If the doppelgangers really did rough up James, they would have roughed up me too, just now, for consistency's sake."<br/>
<br/>
"But why replace him? What--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Prescott." He looks at you. "We're not the only ones who know how to do that."<br/>
<br/>
"Christ!" You rear back. "You don't think they--"<br/>
<br/>
"I still trust <i>you,</i> Prescott. Right now, and as long as I've got my sights on you. You showed that just now."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
That feverish gleam comes back into his eye. "You wanted me to go up there," he says. "You came to me with a half-assed story about how we should go up there. Maybe you wanted to lure me into a trap?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Carson!" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing happened, did it? I was right there, and no one grabbed me. Either you and them are playing a very subtle game--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not one of them, Carson!"<br/>
<br/>
A look of deep pain crosses his face. "Yeah, but I had to find out for sure, didn't I? I had to test you, so I went up there with you and gave you and them every chance to-- And I just about shat myself, but--" He laughs, a ragged sound. "I got guts, don't I? I always hoped I did. Tell me I've got guts, Prescott." His eyes twist up. "Tell me I've got more guts than you ever credited me for."<br/>
<br/>
"You've got more guts than I do, Ioeger," you tell him quietly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You separate, eventually, after spending the rest of the afternoon together, and eating a burger together; and there is a palpable, lingering reluctance to part. For if what Carson has suspected is true, then an undetectable imposture could fall on either of you, at any time. You have the terrible feeling that tomorrow morning Carson will not trust you any more, and the fear is not alleviated by your foreboding sense that you will not be able to trust him. <br/>
<br/>
Fantasies crowd in at home. The only slightly attractive one is provoked by Carson's desperate boast that he had shown "guts" by testing you. Would you be able to test Caleb?</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111221
author_id: seuzz
id: HY46LFH6T
title: A Trip Past the Supermarket
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span><i>It's fine,</i> you tell yourself as you pick up the phone to thumb in text. <i>Caleb is going to be Caleb. He's not going to be ... someone else.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb's face is a twisted mask of incredulity by the time you get finished stammering it all out to him: your story about doppelgangers and imposters and people at school being replaced. It took forever to get it all out, too, because he kept interrupting and asking you to start over. <i>Wait, does all this have to do with that book you were so fucking worried about?</i> he asked at one point. <i>You know, the one you said disappeared from the time capsule?</i> He groaned when you confirmed that you thought maybe it did.<br/>
<br/>
Only one thing (you can tell) keeps him from throwing you out of his house: your telling him that Carson is also convinced that something weird is going on at school. After taking a long time to chew on his lower lip—and after disappearing into the bathroom, to have a good, long think while taking a good, long shit, he tells you—he tells you that he wants to talk to Carson himself.<br/>
<br/>
"And I guess I'm taking a pretty big risk if you're not both full of it," he sourly tells you as he leads you out his front door. "'Cos if there's anything to all this, maybe <i>you're</i> just trying to get me off somewhere to do the thing to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would anyone want to turn themselves into <i>you?</i>" you retort. But his words give you a shiver.<br/>
<br/>
"Why would they do anything to you and Carson?" he snorts.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Because we know about it,</i> you think, and your shiver starts to turn into the shakes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb insists on driving—<i>So I can take you out to Russian Lake and drown you if all this turns out to be one of Carson's sick pranks,</i> he tells you when you ask—but it also works out for him because he gets a text from his mom asking him to stop at the supermarket while he's out.<br/>
<br/>
It's getting on in the evening, and the supermarket is almost completely empty except for the occasional staffer flitting along an aisle. Maybe you're already in a mood to be edgy, but the place feels oddly creepy: aisle after aisle of inanely packaged food, preserved under soulles fluorescent lights. There's no music playing either, so the only sound is the squeak and creak of your shoes on the tile floor. When you pass the black and blank windows looking onto the front parking lot, it becomes easy to imagine that the store has been drowned under a lake of inky water, and exists only as a vapid bubble of normality while <i>things</i> swim around outside, wriggling and feeling for a way in. When you try to express this thought to Caleb, though, it all comes out wrong, and he only looks up at you from his phone—he's texting his mom with questions about some of the brands he should be getting—with a blank look.<br/>
<br/>
"Just one more thing to get," he mutters after about fifteen minutes of circling the store from one end to the other and back. You're passing a set of swinging doors that lead into the alcohol section when he nudges you. "If you had your fake ID, we could get a six pack or something."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have a fake ID," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll have to get you one," he says.<br/>
<br/>
At that moment the doors swing open and three burly guys come busting out.<br/>
<br/>
The first your recognize immediately as Gordon Black. The second is Steve Patterson. And the third is Seth Javits.<br/>
<br/>
Normally, you'd jump out of their way, or even maybe just try to ignore them, because after all you are not on school property. And probably they'd ignore you, too.<br/>
<br/>
But these three, after glancing around and catching sight of you, advance directly on you with hard, blank faces..<br/>
<br/>
For a moment your feet are frozen to the floor. Then you wheel to run.<br/>
<br/>
But Caleb is behind you, and you crash into him and tumble to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Hands lay hold as you try to scramble to your feet, and you are held and lifted up in a great bear hug. Seth steps in front of you, and smashes something into your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"—the Collegiates, out west of Denver," the man across from you is saying. "We used to go hiking up there every summer when I was in graduate school."<br/>
<br/>
"Which school was that?" asks the man sitting next to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Boulder."<br/>
<br/>
"This was back when he was dating Andi," says the woman sitting next to him. Her hair is cut stylishly short, but is a powdery gray, and her face is lined. Her eyes narrow into slits as she grins at her companion. "You're lucky she didn't push <i>you</i> down a mountainside."<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting in the cool twilight, under a wood-framed canopy, on an outdoor patio that overlooks a dock. Beyond, under the stars, the dark water of an ocean inlet spreads out like an inky blanket; on the far side of the inlet, lights from houses and resort hotels twinkle. You are sitting at a large table covered with a white table cloth, but your table is one of only a dozen that dot the patio. At the next table over, a handsome, twenty-something waiter in a white shirt, black pants, and green serving apron hovers solicitously at the elbow of a grizzled, elderly man and his gaunt, chicken-necked wife.<br/>
<br/>
It is a moment or two before you realize that you are holding a wine glass, and have a wide smile stretched across your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that was forty years ago," says her companion. (<i>Dennis,</i> it comes to you in a jolt, like the memory of a dream. <i>His name is Dennis. And the woman next to him is ... his wife. Her name is ...?</i>) "I'm sure she's mellowed since then."<br/>
<br/>
"Unless she's in jail."<br/>
<br/>
"This was your first wife, right?" Garson asks. (That's the man next to you, and the thought gives you a worse jolt than the first, because he's also your husband.)<br/>
<br/>
"We weren't married, exactly," Dennis says, and looks uncomfortable.<br/>
<br/>
"It was your sixth sense that saved you there," Allison says. (That's his wife's name!) "Andi was—" She shudders.<br/>
<br/>
"Andi was something else," Dennis says, and drinks from his own wine glass.<br/>
<br/>
"Heather," someone on the other side of you says. "Are you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
Not until Dennis and Allison (and Brian and Erin) have turned to look at you, do you realize you are being addressed. With a start, you turn to answer the speaker.<br/>
<br/>
She's a fair-complexioned woman with a bouffant of bright, blonde hair. She is a handsome woman too, carefully made up. But there is no hiding the fact that she is in her late-fifties, at least.<br/>
<br/>
"Heather?" she says again, and the faint smile she has turned onto you fades a little with concern.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm alright," you stammer. The wine in your glass sloshes a little as you set it down beside your plate. (The half-eaten dinner of shrimp-and-chicken jambalaya and squash Rockefeller is suddenly unappetizing.) From the corner of your eye, you catch Garson frowning at you.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly you panic, and your feet and hands turn to ice; your heart drops into your stomach. <i>Am I having a heart attack?</i> you wonder. <i>Or a stroke?</i><br/>
<br/>
"I just— Excuse me," you mutter. "I have to—" You rise on trembling legs, laying your cloth napkin carefully beside your plate, and totter off toward the interior of the restaurant.<br/>
<br/>
You have to pass through two dining rooms, and past the giant tank swimming with lobsters, before you find the ladies' room. <i>Why am I heading in here?</i> you ask yourself even as you push the door open. <i>This is for women!<br/>
<br/>
But I am a woman,</i> returns the thought.<br/>
<br/>
The restroom is softly lit and carpeted, with draperies hung along the walls. Vanity tables line one wall, with mirrors and cushioned stools. Half of these are occupied by customers of various ages, but no one looks up or askance at you as you stumble in and fall onto the nearest empty seat.<br/>
<br/>
For a long minute you sit, staring at the hands you have folded in your lap. They are thin and lined with stretch marks and wrinkles, though the nails are brightly polished. You have a wedding ring on one hand; the other sports a ring with a bright stone of turquoise set in a large, silver setting.<br/>
<br/>
Fearfully, you raise your face to look sidelong into the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
As with Melissa, your face is carefully made up, but the lines still show in your forehead, and at the corners of your eyes, and at the folds at the corners of your mouth. It's a wide face, a healthy face, and a reasonably handsome one, with a strong jaw and wide-set eyes. It is framed by platinum-blonde hair that makes up in a kind of rough-hewn honesty what it lacks in body as it falls flatly down just past your shoulders. You are wearing a long, charcoal-gray tweed jacket over a white shift with a plunging neckline; below, you are wearing tight black pants and black, leather boots. It's one of many similar outfits that you own, each element just different enough from the others that they can be mixed and matched to create unique but similar ensembles.<br/>
<br/>
In the mirror you see the door open, and Melissa comes in. You can't help flinching a little.<br/>
<br/>
"Heather," she says in a voice soft with concern. "You're not alright, are you?" She brushes your shoulder with gentle fingertips. "You look like you've seen a ghost."<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing, but in a sense you have seen a ghost. You saw him the eyes that stared haggardly back at you from the depths of the mirror: the eyes of a seventeen-year-old boy named Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry," Melissa says. "Is it about Garson?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Garson. My husband.<br/>
<br/>
Who is dying slowly of terminal, ineradicable cancer.</i><span class="ijfifgfjnj2610"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112211
author_id: seuzz
id: WDJ9RCK5P
title: The Temptation of Heather Dow
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"I just had a sudden turn is all," you murmur back at Melissa. You and she are looking at each other's reflections in the mirror. "I suddenly just felt very ... strange."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you ill?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you confess. Then: "Oh!" You lower your head and close your eyes and cover your face with your hand. "I'm so dizzy!"<br/>
<br/>
"You want me to call a doctor?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!" The thought alarms you, for some reason, and you lift your head again. "I'm better now. Just a passing—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Garson.</i> The dread of losing him seizes your heart. It's a familiar feeling, but you've never had it hit so sudden, or so out of nowhere like this, before. <i>It must be Garson, I'm thinking about Garson.<br/>
<br/>
At least, that's what I should tell Melissa.</i><br/>
<br/>
So you smile up at her reflection, and cover her hand with your own.<br/>
<br/>
"You were right, I just suddenly thought about Garson, and it hit me hard." You pat her hand. "I'll be okay. Just give me a minute."<br/>
<br/>
Still, Melissa looks wary. "Can I stay with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course." You smile, and pat her hand again. "But you could fetch me my bag? I might as well touch myself up a little while I'm here."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"That was a nice dinner," you remark to Garson as you and he are strolling back to the hotel room afterward. You are holding each other's hands. "Aren't Brian and Erin looking well? And Eric—" You trail off when Garson just grunts.<br/>
<br/>
"You know," you continue, "if you don't want to go out on the boat with them tomorrow, you can just tell them. Dennis won't be mind."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'll go," he protests.<br/>
<br/>
"This is <i>your</i> retirement vacation," you remind him. "Not Dennis's."<br/>
<br/>
"He's just trying to show me a good time."<br/>
<br/>
"You've never had a good time on the water."<br/>
<br/>
"I've only been on the water twice!"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't like it either time. You told me."<br/>
<br/>
"That was forty years ago." You've come to the room, and he fumbles the key card from his pocket. "Maybe things have changed."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Maybe they have,</i> you silently agree. Then, with quick fright: <i>Of course they've changed.<br/>
<br/>
Everything has changed!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It all started with a visit from Brandt Gelding, one of the science teachers at the school. Garson had had dinner with him the week before. When you'd asked Garson afterward what Brandt wanted, Garson (who had come back looking very pale and distracted) had roused himself only enough to say, <i>Oh, about what I'm going to do after I retire. He had some ideas for me.</i><br/>
<br/>
You had left it at that, because though it certainly was good manners of Brandt to inquire, it could not have been a very pleasant query for Garson to field. Aside from the fact that (as far as you know) Garson and Brandt had never been more than professionally acquainted, Garson would either have had to lie about his post-retirement plans, or he would have to tell Brandt the truth. That he (Garson) was retiring because he was dying.<br/>
<br/>
(You hadn't paid much attention to the doctor's words after the gist had sunk in. You had only caught the phrases "prostate cancer" and "bone marrow" and "metastasized" and "poor prospects" before your mind shut down and refused to absorb any more.)<br/>
<br/>
But then a week later Brandt came over to the house. It was at Garson's invitation, but your husband had been nervous and even irritable all morning before his arrival. At one point he had even snatched up the cell phone and said, <i>I'm going to call Brandt and cancel,</i> but then stood in a paralyzed posture of agonized indecision before dropping the phone and hurrying for the bathroom. You thought you'd heard the sound of retching from behind the door, and had knocked and asked if he wanted <i>you</i> to call Brandt, but Garson said he'd changed his mind. Still, he looked gaunt with a kind of horror, and his eyes were watering all during the wait, and they were watering still in his gray face when Brandt arrived.<br/>
<br/>
Brandt Gelding—whom you had never met before—turned out to be a brusque, rather hard-mannered man. Perfect for teaching math or science, you might suppose: not someone to take any lip, and more than capable of stopping lab-table shenanigans before they got started. He had short, brown hair, thinning at the front and on the top, and a tough-eyed stare. His manner was business-like as he sat down opposite the sofa where you and Garson sat, and he said little more than, <i>This is something I showed Garson,</i> before he took something out of his book satchel. You had smiled with a wan and polite interest, and wished that Garson had given you some warning about what this mysterious visit was all about.<br/>
<br/>
And then Brandt vanished.<br/>
<br/>
Yet someone remained behind as well. Where Brandt had been sitting, there now sat a tousle-headed teenager with a three-day growth of heavy beard. He sagged inside the chair where Brandt had been sitting, and inside of Brandt's clothes, his head lolling to one side and his eyes closed, fast asleep.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you'd said nothing, but only felt like an audience member at a Vegas show, when the stage magician does an unexpected trick. Only there was no one else but Garson to experience it, and you had no cue about how to react. So you only stared in some bemusement as you waited for whatever trick this was to undo itself and conclude.<br/>
<br/>
Garson squeezed your hand, then pulled you to your feet. Together, you crept over to where the boy sat dozing.<br/>
<br/>
Garson poked at him. "You try," he said.<br/>
<br/>
"Try what?"<br/>
<br/>
"It feels just like he looks. You can't tell it's not him."<br/>
<br/>
"Not who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not Brandt. I mean, not this ... kid ... he turned himself into."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" You stared down at the kid, a feeling of fear slowly beginning to creep over you. "What's this about?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's Brandt," Garson said.<br/>
<br/>
"I know it's Brandt!"<br/>
<br/>
"But it doesn't look like him, does it?" Garson pressed.<br/>
<br/>
You threw up your hands. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what's going on, Garson! Would you tell me? Or wake him up so he can—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want to know how it's done?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't even know what's going on!"<br/>
<br/>
It wasn't until Garson had shaken Brandt awake that they tried to explain, and even then it made no sense, even with the evidence sitting right there in front of you. <i>I've turned myself into someone else,</i> Brandt explained. <i>It's like a kind of disguise!</i> Not until Brandt had changed himself back—it seemed to involve putting on and taking off a blue-tinged mask—and then changed Garson using the same trick, that it had begun to really sink in. The trick really did change your husband all over, from the top of his crown to the tips of his toes, into the shape and form of another human being.<br/>
<br/>
A much younger and healthier human being.<br/>
<br/>
Then of course you had to admit it was most marvelous and almost miraculous, though you were also mystified by the meaning of it all. Not until Brandt began to explain that the boy in question was a real boy—a layabout stoner at Westside High named Dane Matthias—did you begin to feel any trepidation. And when Brandt said that the mask—and he let you hold and handle it as he talked: it looked like a classical tragedian's mask, only with a neutral expression—also conferred the memories of the boy, and the ability to mimic his personality ... Well, then you began to feel and act coldly. Garson had read your mood, and quickly ushered Brandt out.<br/>
<br/>
That night, he told you what Brandt, and his "colleagues" at the school had offered.<br/>
<br/>
They had offered to save Garson's life by giving him a new one.<br/>
<br/>
They could make a mask of anyone at school—Garson's choice—and transform him into that person. He would take on their appearance, their memories, the ability to act exactly like them in the presence of their family and friends. But Garson would still be Garson—he would still be the man you loved and married, the new look and act would only be a pretense—but in this stolen body he would be young and healthy again, with all of life to live over.<br/>
<br/>
And what would happen to the person he replaced? The boy who's life he stole would at the same time take Garson's place. Only he wouldn't know it. <br/>
<br/>
<i>There are ways to make them forget who they were,</i> Garson told you. <i>Whoever I pick, he'll think that he's me, that he was always me. He'll live the rest of my life for me.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of it?</i> you asked in some horror. <i>Up until—?</i><br/>
<br/>
His eyes fell. He didn't even have to answer the question, for he'd seen your expression.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You're not thinking of doing this,</i> you said.<br/>
<br/>
He hung his head, and admitted that he had.<br/>
<br/>
But then he raised his face again, and looked deep into your eyes as the tears streamed from his.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I might have done it,</i> he said, <i>but I couldn't bear to go on without you. I couldn't leave </i>you<i> behind.</i><br/>
<br/>
You had embraced and spoken no more of it.<br/>
<br/>
But you'd thought about it, first with a shudder at the temptation avoided. But then with a kind of trembling worry.<br/>
<br/>
<i>He can't save himself while leaving me behind,</i> you thought with sudden terror one morning not long after Brandt's visit. <i>But doesn't that mean I'm stopping him from saving himself? Because I can't go with him?<br/>
<br/>
Or won't?</i><br/>
<br/>
For a week you had worried over it, wrestled with it, nearly driven yourself mad with horror and self-recrimination.<br/>
<br/>
But finally, with an exhausted peace of mind one morning at breakfast, you asked him, <i>Would you let them make you young again, if they made me young as well?</i><span class="fngigffkflm3610"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122111
author_id: seuzz
id: L4S8XTVVK
title: The Seduction of Heather Dow
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"Oh!" Melissa gasps as she dives for the tennis ball. But it skips past her racket, and she gives you a withering look a she straightens up.<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't be taking lessons from a good-looking tennis instructor, would you?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
It's your turn to gasp, affecting shock.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you saying?" you ask as you meet her at the net. "That you can't keep up with me anymore?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I'm getting worse," she grumbles. "So you must be getting better."<br/>
<br/>
You laugh, and after she's retrieved the ball you saunter off the court and back to the club house. <br/>
<br/>
It's eleven o'clock—too early for lunch, too late for brunch—so you relax on the patio with a couple of diet drinks. The clouds that swept through overnight have mostly broken up and are hurrying away, opening the sky to the bright sun.<br/>
<br/>
Conversation lapses after you and Melissa have tired of replaying the just-concluded game. And in the silence, that cold feeling comes over you again. <i>I am not Heather Dow,</i> you think with fright. <i>I am not this sixty-something-year-old woman, and I am not married to Garson Dow, and this is not my best friend from college. My name is William Prescott, and I got put here because a couple of—</i><br/>
<br/>
And yet you have just enough sympathy still for Heather and Garson Dow that you can't quite bring yourself to curse them out, even in your head.<br/>
<br/>
"How did you sleep last night?" Melissa asks, shaking you from your reverie.<br/>
<br/>
"What? Oh, I slept like a baby. I always do."<br/>
<br/>
"You still look a little gray in the face."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I think yesterday exhausted me. I must be getting old, if shopping takes more out of me than a tennis game!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, fuck, why am I talking like this? Because I have to? Because I have to spend the rest of my life—my short life as an old woman—pretending to be this woman because they'll put me in a hospital if I tell them I'm not?</i><br/>
<br/>
"It's not from last night,?" Melissa says.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean from the restaurant? No, I think that was just exhaustion from yesterday too." Loathing yourself for giving in to instinct, you reach across the table to clasp Melissa's hand. "Don't worry about me, Mel!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, some thing I can't help," she says. You are briefly interrupted by a waiter bringing you a couple of new colas, and you turn your gaze out past the tennis courts to the green slopes of the golf course beyond, and sip at your cola contemplatively.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I guess there are compensations,</i> you tell yourself. <i>Having money to do this being one of them.</i><br/>
<br/>
You feel your lips twitch at the thought of what else you could do with the money you now have as Heather Dow. What a picture it would make if you fitted out the neatly kept living room, with its rugs and ottomans and glass-topped coffee table, its leather chair and embroidered sofa and bookcases tastefully decorated with pieces of coral and driftwood— What a picture if you added a new-generation game console and a stack of the best and most expensive new games.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mother!</i> you can imagine your horrified daughter exclaiming when she came over one afternoon to find you barreling your way through the latest <i>Call of Duty</i> knock-off. <i>What are you doing?<br/>
<br/>
What's it look like I'm doing?</i> you'd retort while concentrating gleefully on the carnage. <i>I'm blowing this cocksucker's head inside out. Oo, now watch this! There's a feature that lets you piss on any fresh kill!</i><br/>
<br/>
"Maybe I could stop through to see you and Garson at Christmas?" Melissa says.<br/>
<br/>
Her suggestion causes dread to settle over your heart: dread of the future, and dread of having to face a future that shouldn't be yours, even one that includes potentially buying a monster truck to drive around town in. You dodge her disguised self-invite with a crooked smile and the excuse, "I think we'll just have to see how Garson's doing."<br/>
<br/>
"He is doing well, isn't he? I mean, all things considered. Except for—" Melissa bites her lip. "Except for his seeming kind of tired, you can't really tell that he's ... ill."<br/>
<br/>
"He gets exhausted easily. He has to take it easy. Don's taken it onto himself to do most of our shopping for us," you add, almost as an afterthought.<br/>
<br/>
"How's he taking it?"<br/>
<br/>
You force that crooked smile back onto your face. "He's a real trooper."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>So, what do you think?</i> Garson asked the afternoon he came home—the afternoon of the change. He looked scared of what you would answer.<br/>
<br/>
He couldn't be half as scared as you had been all day.<br/>
<br/>
First had been the terror you felt that morning as you watched him shuffle out the front door, heading for the car. <i>This is the last time I'll see him,</i> you thought with a gulp as you stood in the doorway and waved to him. <i>Even if I do see him later—if something doesn't go wrong—it won't look like him.<br/>
<br/>
And the one who looks like him won't be him. Not really.</i><br/>
<br/>
It was like getting an early preview of what it will be like when he is taken from you for the last time.<br/>
<br/>
And you had a pit in your stomach when the call came at a little after ten. <i>Mrs. Dow?</i> a strange woman said when you answered. <i>There's someone here who wants to talk to you.</i><br/>
<br/>
You had held your breath. And then another voice came onto the line. A rugged, masculine voice. Shy, but with young strength beneath it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Heather?</i> he said. <i>It's me.<br/>
<br/>
It went okay?</i> you asked, and suddenly you had to blink back tears, and put a finger to your nose to stop the streaming mess.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah. It was easy. I just took my clothes off and laid down. And then I woke up and I was—</i><br/>
<br/>
He choked a little. <br/>
<br/>
<i>I'll see you after school,</i> he'd said. <i>Not as soon as I hoped, I forgot I got ... well, I got football practice now.</i><br/>
<br/>
You couldn't help giggling at that. A hysterical giggle, not an amused one. Garson had never been one for sports.<br/>
<br/>
Along about four you got a text from your husband's phone, telling you he would be eating dinner with colleagues. At first this panicked you. Then you realized the text would be from the <i>other</i> Garson, the one they they had made to replace him. He was being gotten out of the way, so that you and your ... renewed ... husband could be together.<br/>
<br/>
He actually rang the doorbell when he arrived, and he looked so scared when you opened the door for him. <i>Heather,</i> the tall, burly guy with the three-day growth of beard had said. <i>It's me.</i><br/>
<br/>
His name now was Cameron Huber, and he was the quarterback for the high school football team. He was tall—more than six feet—and strong and hairy all over. You couldn't help salivating a little as you looked him over, circling him as he stood in the living room. When he finally had enough, and caught you gently by the arm, his hand seemed to burn where it touched you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I love you, Heather,</i> he said in a cracking voice.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I love you too, Garson,</i> you whispered back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I want to ... </i>love<i> you,</i> he said, and you wondered at the strange repetition: If he did love you, why did he add that he wanted to?<br/>
<br/>
Then, when you saw the wet, ardent look in his eye, you realized what he was really saying.<br/>
<br/>
You let the strength drain from your legs, and let him catch you. He held you close, as though frightened both of holding you closer and of letting you go.<br/>
<br/>
Then, when you clasped him about his broad shoulders, he pulled you to him, and plunged a hot, probing tongue into your mouth. It was a kiss like you had never felt before.<br/>
<br/>
Not long after, in the bedroom, you raised your face to the ceiling and screamed aloud as he cracked you open with his new and prodigious cock.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I am riding a teenage stud, a boy who's young enough to be my grandson!</i> you yelled to yourself as he lifted and surged beneath and inside you. <i>And he loves me and is loving me because he never wants to stop!</i><br/>
<br/>
Afterward, as you cuddled in his embrace, he got a text. His face crinkled with pleasure as he read it. <i>It's Don,</i> he said. <i>He says he's definitely up for getting together this weekend.<br/>
<br/>
You already talked to him?</i> you asked with a gasp.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Texted him at lunch. Him and Cameron still see each other around.</i> He kissed you. <i>I was scared that part wouldn't work out.<br/>
<br/>
It'll be nice to see more of Don,</i> you said.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It's the whole reason I picked Cameron instead of someone else,</i> Garson said. <i>So we'd still be close to Don.</i><br/>
<br/>
Because he's the only grandson you've got. Or will ever have.<br/>
<br/>
* Continue<span class="fngigffkfln3610"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111221111
author_id: seuzz
id: YSWNJ9Q5V
title: The Metamorphosis of Heather Dow
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You study Garson in the mirror over the vanity as you put on your makeup. You move with the quick, deft strokes of nearly fifty years practice, touching here and dabbing there, smearing and clearing gauging the effect even as you watch your husband.<br/>
<br/>
He is packing your suitcases, for the plane trip home to Saratoga Falls. This past week in Drayton Beach, South Carolina, was a fun and necessary diversion, taken in anticipation of the grim times to come. You remember hesitating when Garson's sister, Allison, called to ask if you and he would be interested in being her and her husband's guests. <i>Dennis is on sabbatical this semester, you know,</i> she said. <i>We've reserved a condo down near the Outer Banks for the season, and we'd love it if you and Garson came out after he's free from school, to spend some time with us.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your hesitation, it seems to you now, would have been due to a repulsion at the thought of starting this last journey with your husband off on such a frivolous note. And so you had hemmed at the idea, and suggested she talk to Garson about it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I want to talk to you about it, Heather,</i> she'd said, in a much more direct tone that she'd been using up to then. <i>I know my brother, he'll just say 'No', whether he wants to or not, whether it'll be good for him or not. I want to know if </i>you<i> think it's a good idea. For him and for you.</i><br/>
<br/>
So you'd said you weren't sure that it was. But Allison had prevailed upon you, and changed your mind (so it seems to you, in retrospect) not through wheedling and argument, but by describing the relaxation to be had, and about how relatively little such "fun" either you or Garson had taken during your marriage.<br/>
<br/>
<i>He's a homebody, Heather,</i> she said, <i>always has been. He's never liked to travel or do anything, and </i>you<i> at least should have spent some of your father's money on a few trips to Europe. You'll have lots of time to do that later, of course,</i> she'd added, with a crack in her voice. <i>I'll have lots of chances to take you to Florence or to Prague, I know all the places to take you. When you don't have anything to worry about anymore.</i><br/>
<br/>
So you said you would try to prevail upon Garson to spend a week in Drayton Beach, and Allison then suggested that you invite friends of your own along. So that's how Melissa came to be there too.<br/>
<br/>
And then Brian and Erin (that would be Dennis and Allison's son and daughter-in-law) and their son Eric showed up for a few days. <br/>
<br/>
You suppose it was fun. Dennis and Brian took Garson golfing a couple of times, and yesterday they took him out fishing on the ocean for a couple of hours. You all did some light hiking up and down the dunes, and back into the low hills behind the town. When Garson was occupied with the men, you and Melissa, sometimes with Allison, sometimes with Allison and Erin both, did lots of shopping, picking up new blouses and shawls and skirts and boots. You ate in tearooms and drove around the city, looking at the old, historic homes. And one day you all drove down to Wilmington, to look at the historic homes there, and the art galleries, and the museums, and the battleship <i>North Carolina,</i> sparkling in her retirement berth.<br/>
<br/>
But now that it's all over, you don't remember how you felt during the trip. Oh, it seems like you must have had a good time. You remember laughing and talking happily with Melissa and Allison, you remember squealing (almost like girls again!) over some of the clothes you picked up at the Galleria in Wilmington, and you remember smiling and saying <i>This is so nice!</i> and <i>I'm so glad we came!</i> and <i>This has been so good for Garson, I know he doesn't show it much, but I can tell that this trip has relaxed him so much!</i> And yet all you can remember are the words, and the remembered sensation of certain expressions on your face, and the way your body quivered in the grip of excitement or draped loosely in a chair as you sipped your fourth glass of wine.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you almost ready?" Garson asks as he hefts one of the suitcases onto the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"I've just got my face on," you tell him, and press your lips together to to even out the lipstick. You turn your head from side to side, studying your reflection. <i>Sixty-something years old,</i> you tell yourself, <i>and you do look it, Heather, if you know where to look. But it's a healthy sixty-something, at least, and you know how to wear it well.</i> You touch your hair, which is coarse and bodiless, but purposefully so, because you can't do a thing with it at your age except make it look intentionally so.<br/>
<br/>
"Where do you want to go for lunch?" you ask your husband as you rise from the vanity. You are wearing only a shift over your bra, and stockings over your panties as you stride over to the blouse and skirt that you set out for today. "You want to go back to the Lighthouse? You liked that one a lot."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure Allison and Dennis have someplace picked out," he says with a sigh.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure they do too," you reply with a light waspishness. "Erin will have told them where to take us." (Brian's wife is pretty, but she's also pretty pushy, and you will be glad to see the back of her head.) "But you should tell them where you want to go," you continue as you sweep up the pearl-white blouse you picked up yesterday on your "last chance" shopping sweep of the town. "Or tell me so I can tell them."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't say anything, but only stands there watching you with a quizzical frown on his face as you pull together the front of the blouse. "What's wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"That's an interesting blouse," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you like it? I've got three more like it at home." It's a beige, double-breasted blouse that folds over itself at the waist, where it held by a single button. After getting it settled, you tie a light-green sash around your waist and tie it in a large bow to hide the button.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I never noticed."<br/>
<br/>
You shoot him a quick but affectionate look, then pick up the gray skirt as you glance around. "Did you accidentally pack my boots?"<br/>
<br/>
Now he looks around. "I guess I did," he says, and hauls one of the suitcases back up onto the bed.<br/>
<br/>
You are swept by a wave of affection, which you quickly tamp back as you zip up and straighten your skirt. But after you've got your boots on, and are settling the last lines of your outfit, you catch Garson looking at your reflection.<br/>
<br/>
"You like what you see?" you tease him.<br/>
<br/>
He frowns a little. "I guess," he says. "Sure," he adds, more firmly. But he looks around with a vague expression.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
It's a moment before he answers. "We never talk like this anymore," he says. "At least not in private."<br/>
<br/>
You pause. What he has said is true. "I guess you're right," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," he sighs. "I guess there hasn't been much point in it. Just carry on in public, that's all we have to do, that's all we have to do, since the—" He hesitates, as though searching for the words. "Since the change."<br/>
<br/>
A ripple like a cold stream of water runs down your back.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you ever think about it?" you ask him. "Do you ever think that— It was <i>us</i> who made the change, you know. But we also got left behind, and here we are."<br/>
<br/>
His expression doesn't shift. He just says, "No, I don't think I think about it all."<br/>
<br/>
<i>And I don't think I ever did either,</i> you realize now that you cast an introspective gaze inward. <i>I don't think I ever thought anything, any more than I ever felt anything. I just </i>did<i> what I was supposed to do.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well," you say. "I've got my face on, and you've got yours. Time to be us in public with the family."<br/>
<br/>
Quietly, he picks up the handle to one suitcase, and you pick up the handle to the other, and you wheel them out the door to the rental car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The flight back to Saratoga Falls, including the plane change for a commuter jet, is mercifully uneventful, but it is still after nine o'clock when you get in. You are exhausted, so it is a relief to know (and to find) that your ride back to town is waiting for you: your daughter, Susanna. She's brought her son with her, which surprises you a little, until he explains that it's because his dad couldn't make it out, and he thought someone should be along to help with the baggage.<br/>
<br/>
"And I know you, gra'ma," he added with a sly smile, "and I didn't know how much you'd be bringing back, so I brought some back up of my own."<br/>
<br/>
So that, supposedly, explains why there's another strapping young man with him.<br/>
<br/>
"This is my friend, Cameron," Don says by way of introduction, and Cameron twinkles knowingly at you and Garson. "We were on the team together last year. And this is his new girlfriend, Rachel."<br/>
<br/>
Your eye goes to the pretty little brunette tucked inside Cameron's arm. She grins back at you.<br/>
<br/>
Her glance is even more knowing than her boyfriend's.<br/>
<br/>
* Continue<span class="felfmnjfgf379"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112211111
author_id: seuzz
id: QFG7DQK5N
title: The Family of Heather Dow
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"Don's friend seems nice," you tell Susanna. "Cameron? Was that his name?"<br/>
<br/>
It's Sunday morning, the day after your flight back. Garson is making his usual, early-morning trip to the bookstore to get a weekend <i>Wall Street Journal,</i> and Susanna has come over for coffee, and to nosh.<br/>
<br/>
She looks a lot like you when you were her age: slender and blonde, with long hair draping past her shoulders. She has begun to put weight on her hips, and the lines have started to show at the corners of her eyes, but with a little light make up she could still pass for under thirty.<br/>
<br/>
Well, under thirty-five, and that's not bad for a woman whose son is a college freshman.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," she says. "I think they were doing something with Don, and tagged along when I asked him to come with me." Her smile is warm but a little tight. "I think they all originally had plans to do something together on a Saturday night."<br/>
<br/>
You cast her a knowing glance. Don isn't married, hasn't got a steady girlfriend, and is very good-looking, if a grandmother is allowed to notice.<br/>
<br/>
Susanna changes the subject, returning it to the matter of your vacation, and you answer her even as your mind races off along other rails ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What's wrong with Anne?" Garson asked. It was after your second fuck, which he wanted in preference to talking about the new body you were going to get. <i>I'm gonna call my folks, tell them I'm gonna be home late,</i> he'd said as he devoured your breasts and throat with ardent, unrestrained kisses. <i>God, I could do it all night with you! You know, we haven't since—! And now I can—! Jesus!</i> he'd exclaimed as he rolled on top of you and slid his hot, iron-hard cock against your inner thigh.<br/>
<br/>
But you'd insisted it had to be done. <i>I don't want to be away from you one minute more than I have to be, so tell them we have to do it tomorrow!</i> you'd said. So now you were cuddling up against his hairy chest, inside his hairy arm, his hairy cheek scratching yours as he rubbed his hairy, muscular calf against yours, looking through his phone at the various girls you could choose from.<br/>
<br/>
Of course he would propose this girl Anne Starkey first. She was Cameron's girlfriend, so you'd be instantly together. But you reminded him that his friends at the school could get anyone, anytime they wanted, the way they got Cameron: by summoning them to the nurse's office where Emily Shaffer, who was in on it all, would hit them with a mask in the outer office while you waited in the inner office. <br/>
<br/>
As for what's wrong with Anne—<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing wrong with her," you said.<br/>
<br/>
"Is it because she's a red-head?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!" You slapped at his chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Then why—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Rachel Burton," you finally declared after you'd been through a dozen photos of various girls, from cheerleaders to AP-track-country-club girls (many of whom you vaguely knew from the country club, to which you and Garson both belong). It seemed less and less likely he would bring Rachel name and photo up himself, so you finally just declared your interest.<br/>
<br/>
He actually jerked a little in surprise when you barked out the name.<br/>
<br/>
"Is something wrong with Rachel Burton?" you demanded. "You don't like her? Cameron doesn't like her?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, she's fine—"<br/>
<br/>
"She's not sexy?"<br/>
<br/>
Garson wriggled down into the bed, pulled you close, and mauled the side of your head with his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> are sexy!" he growled. "You'd be sexy as anyone. When I fuck you in your new body, I'm going to be fantasizing about—"<br/>
<br/>
You shut him up with a squeal and again said, "Rachel Burton."<br/>
<br/>
He relented with a sigh. "Okay, why Rachel? How do you even <i>know</i> about Rachel?"<br/>
<br/>
"You've met her! At some of Doris's things."<br/>
<br/>
"Doris?"<br/>
<br/>
"Doris Grissom. At her historical shindigs."<br/>
<br/>
Garson blinked hard. "What was Rachel doing at—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"No I don't. What was she doing there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Volunteer work. Or— I don't know. Doris seems to dote on her."<br/>
<br/>
Garson reared back. "Then why do you want to—? Her?"<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, you were tired of him, and despite his whining you got out of bed and got dressed and kicked him out of the house, telling him you'd him call later that night.<br/>
<br/>
You thought about it all after he'd gone—you remember most everything that Heather Dow thought about, or would remember thinking about, before she woke up again in the nurse's office at Westside; it's only after the change that you don't remember any of her thoughts—and you thought of all the reasons you should pick Anne or some other girl over Rachel. But you still settled firmly on Rachel.<br/>
<br/>
It has to do with Doris Grissom and your own family. Only by somehow getting close to Doris—and maybe by getting one of Garson's colleagues to help, with a magical contraption or other—could you discover the truth about what happened to your grandmother—and in that way at least give your own late mother some peace of mind.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
When she was not yet thirty, your grandmother Patricia lost her husband in World War II. Nearly destitute, with a four-year-old daughter to support, she had been taken in by her parents and her sister-in-law, Sarah Coarsewood Stuart. Not long after, Sarah's daughter, Doris (your mother's cousin; your first cousin, once removed) was born.<br/>
<br/>
There was always some mystery about her birth, some hint of something not right. It had been a difficult pregnancy, one that had hardly started when Sarah was suddenly whisked away to a sanitarium to. She was confined there for a year after Doris's birth, with her daughter, and that daughter was small and sickly when they finally came home.<br/>
<br/>
Relations between Sarah and Patricia had never been good—Sarah and her husband disapproved of Patricia's marriage—and relations worsened. Indeed, they got so bad that only three years later Patricia herself disappeared, abandoning her own child, leaving only a note behind. Madeline—your mother; at the time, Patricia's six-year-old daughter—never saw her mother again.<br/>
<br/>
Madeline found her aunt Sarah and cousin Doris intolerable: cold and hateful even when not actually abusive, and in 1955 she herself, though only sixteen, ran away from Saratoga Falls to marry your father, who himself was fleeing a bad home life. They fetched up in Memphis eventually, and made a stable, happy life there. But ten years later they returned to Saratoga Falls to take care of Peter's mother. Madeline tentatively reached out to her own family, and was shocked at what she found: her aunt Sarah, her mental poise broken now in some way, had been institutionalized at Hochstetter Hospital. And Doris, as cold and viciously unfriendly as ever, had moved in to care for her and Madeline's grandparents. Madeline visited them once, and came away with the impression that they were not so much being cared for by Doris as being imprisoned.<br/>
<br/>
By 1972, when her grandmother died, an unbridgeable chasm had opened between Madeline and Doris, who inherited the entirety of their grandparents' considerable estate. And so embittered did Madeline become that, in her cups, she would confide to Heather that she suspected Doris of poisoning her own husband, Michael Grissom, when he died suddenly in 1980. <br/>
<br/>
But whatever family tragedies had scarred Madeline, she did not pass those scars on to Heather, who grew up happy and loved in a family whose fortunes steadily increased. By the time Heather was in high school, her father had struck up a lucrative partnership with Philip Carlson, Sr., the most successful commercial real estate developer in town. Heather married Garson, and she and he worked at Eastman High, she as a librarian, he as a teacher, until her mother's death, when the family trust devolved onto her. It held so much money, and so much guaranteed income, that she and Garson retired; she stayed retired, but Garson, restlessly at his wits' end, took a job as associate principal at Westside—a dead-end job, but something that would keep him busy.<br/>
<br/>
And Doris? She is one of the grand dames of Saratoga Falls, the chairwoman of the local Historical Society, and the decider of who is and is not a proper descendant of the city's "Four Families": the founders of Saratoga Falls. Heather, as the daughter of the daughter of a grandson of a founder, apparently does not count. (Doris herself is the daughter of a grandson.) But Heather sticks it in Doris's eye anyway by doing volunteer work with the Historical Society. Doris gets her revenge by never speaking to Heather unless she has too, and by being brutally cold when she does.<br/>
<br/>
As for Rachel Burton, and why she should be the apple of Doris's eye?<br/>
<br/>
It was Rachel's mother, while researching her own family tree, who dropped what might have been a vital clue into Heather's lap: <i>Did you know,</i> she casually mentioned while discussing her husband, <i>that Sanford can trace his own roots back to three of the Four Families?</i> She'd made a face, and added, <i>No wonder Doris dotes on him but treats me like dirt on her shoe. I'm nobody, and she wanted Sanford to marry a "cousin"!</i><br/>
<br/>
And Rachel has the same lineage as her father. Through her, you could get close to Doris.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's the middle of the afternoon, and Garson has fallen asleep in his chair while watching the History Channel. You are working on a Sudoko puzzle, and wondering when you'll work up the nerve to confront Mr. Gelding and his friends—or if you'll just funk it and hide from them, like nothing went wrong with their magic—when there's a rap at the door. Garson starts from his sleep, but you hush him as you quickly make your way to the front door.<br/>
<br/>
The smile falls off your face when you see who it is.<br/>
<br/>
He has seen your reaction, too, and you see the wry amusement in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, hey there, Prescott," James Lamont drawls. "We need to talk."<br/>
<br/>
* Continue<span class="fmjggefefhk3711"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111222
author_id: seuzz
title: Friday Follies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a terrible thing to realize that you're <i>not</i> as brave as Carson. You can't even bring yourself to pick up your phone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But the sun is shining brightly the next morning, and the air is sharp and cool, and you're startled by the sound of a bird chirping as you step out of the house toward your truck. It all crowds in on you--the light and color and atmosphere--and it brings you up short. You never notice such things, and the realization that you pass so much time rushing between home and school and friends' houses without noticing the spaces between, and the sights and sounds and smells--the enveloping <i>texture</i>--of a world far larger than the sphere you carry so closely around yourself-- It stops you in mid-stride with something like a slap. The beauty in that brief moment staggers you.<br/>
<br/>
It ought to bring you down--the thought that you might not be around for much longer to see and feel such things--but it's a peculiarly contrary emotion that enraptures you. You feel very free, and the terrors and doubts that have so weighed on you seem to slump off your shoulders. You may not be free for much longer, but you are free <i>now.</i> And then with a sharpness it occurs to you that there is no reason you might not remain free indefinitely, so long as you keep your head. (Even as so many others around you may be losing theirs.) For suppose that Carson's worst fears are actually true: <i>They</i> know that you have suspicions about them. <i>They</i> are watching you, possibly from a blind so close you cannot see it at your very feet. <i>They</i> are up to little good. But if all this is so, then you should have lost your freedom by now; you should not be here, at this moment, with the warm rays of the sun and the biting air of a fresh autumn morning mingling on your cheek. Why, then, if you carry on as though you have no reason to fear or suspect a change, in yourself or in others, should <i>they</i> make a change in you? The fact that you are still yourself, even after all that has happened, seems to vouchsafe that you may continue to be yourself still. If <i>they</i> have not struck at you now, why should they strike at you at all--if you keep perfectly still?<br/>
<br/>
All this passes with remarkable alacrity through your nervous system, and if it never quite blooms with full consciousness in your brain, it suffuses your other nerves.<br/>
<br/>
And so it is with a hop to your gait that you approach the school from the parking lot. You nod and wave to other students, even to those that you're not on close terms with, and you smile to yourself when you see Brent Pruitt return your hollered greeting with a puzzled wave of his own before turning to Derek Balaban. Balaban glances over at you, and even at a distance of thirty yards you can see the bemused expression he returns to Brent.<br/>
<br/>
You even pass the front of the gym with a serene confidence that you will not be molested. You are very nearly right, for when you are thrown against the wall, it is only because Chelsea Cooper has passed, thrusting aside any and all in her tempestuous rush to quit the gym. Caleb, whom you had glimpsed ahead but not yet called to, is another of her victims, and he looks back at you with the echo of surprise still on his face when you cry out his name. "Someone's in trouble," you joke as you nod at her retreating back, and at the perfection that undulates just beneath it. "And it won't be <i>her.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He replies, but you're not really paying attention. Your bright spirit is not so bright that it can pierce the shadow that veils him from you. Not that it veils his surface, which is as flawlessly and impeccably "Caleb-like" as can be. But you cannot feel--you will not let yourself feel--any of the light of his personality. You are determined to take him, and all others, as he and they appear, and no deeper. Only in the pretense that <i>nothing</i> is wrong can you find safety. <br/>
<br/>
Still, you are acutely aware that this sense of refuge can only be purchased by surrendering <i>other</i> people to the attentions of the hidden puppet masters. Some small voice cries within you at this act of cowardice and betrayal. But really: what <i>can</i> you do?<br/>
<br/>
And so perhaps there is a thin veneer of an emotion slightly metallic--an armor--around all of your otherwise loose and happy banter with Caleb, and with Keith Tilley when the latter also appears. He looks over his shoulder. "Got through yesterday without Javits seeing me," he mutters. "Here's hoping it continues."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he got you out of his system," you continue in your joking vein. "You saw a lot of him the last few weeks. He seemed to be in a lot of places at once."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you high or something," Caleb asks. You turn to find him giving you an incredulous stare. You ask what he means. "You've been all weird the past few days, talking to yourself and stuff. And <i>now</i> you're all--" His eyebrows twitch.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart gives a wild thump--what has he heard you muttering?--but you cover it with a laugh and a loose shrug. "I guess I was all worried about that paper for Walberg and that time capsule stuff. But I got an A. It all worked out."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he grunts, but he still looks skeptical. "It wasn't that big of an assignment."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, there's Carson and them," you reply. "Maybe Jenny's heard something about Chelsea." You cut over toward them, paying no attention to whether your friends will follow.<br/>
<br/>
They're standing in a loose knot: Jenny and Paul and James and Carson. The latter, you notice, is hanging slightly apart. He looks at you only briefly and returns to staring at the ground. "So what's the latest, Jenny?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Latest what?" she grumpily asks in reply. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, I just saw Chelsea shooting out of the gym--"<br/>
<br/>
"What's gotten into you, Prescott?" James asks. "You're getting to be as bad as the girls."<br/>
<br/>
"Just making conversation. I know what she likes to talk about." Jenny gives you a quick, sour glance; Carson purses his lips. You look over your shoulder--and have to peer around Caleb's as well--at the gym. "So is Yumi still operating under deep cover?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut," Carson growls, and he looks flushed. "If someone's got a secret, you don't go blabbing about it."<br/>
<br/>
"If you've got a secret," you retort, "you don't go around acting like you've got one. Have <i>you</i> got a secret, Ioeger?" You grin impudently at him.<br/>
<br/>
He says a very bad word, and stalks away. James, who is standing with his arms folded, watches him narrowly, and then his eyes shift back in your direction. "You're not acting like <i>you've</i> got any secrets, Prescott, so what are <i>you</i> hiding?"<br/>
<br/>
"What would it look like if it <i>looked</i> like I had a secret, Lamont?" You're conscious there's a desperate cheerfulness to your tone. "Come to think of it, <i>you're</i> acting really not suspicious. Should I be suspicious of <i>you</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"You've been acting like a fucking paranoiac," he replies with a crooked and knowing grin. "You seen any more <i>doubles</i> around?" You can't be sure, but you think you catch his eyes flicking over your shoulder at someone behind you.<br/>
<br/>
That <i>does</i> set your heart to racing, but you affect a good humor. "Oh, has Ioeger been gossiping about <i>me?</i> Fucker. Yeah, but I'm over it."<br/>
<br/>
"Seeing double?" Caleb echoes. "Is something wrong with your eyes, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
James grins. "Carson says that Will's been--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, alright," you say in a loud voice. "Jesus." You kick at the ground, and try to keep your breathing under control. "That stupid book I told you about, Caleb. You know, in the time capsule. Ioeger tells me I've got a powerful imagination."<br/>
<br/>
There's an awkward silence. Jenny is frowning at you; Caleb, Paul and Keith look dumbstruck; James grins. "Yeah," the latter finally laughs. "Carson says Will's been seeing <i>doppelgangers</i> all over--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just shut the fuck up about it, okay?" you yell. "Carson's right, I was being stupid. And no, I haven't been seeing any fucking <i>doppelgangers</i> around." Another confused silence falls on the group. "Oh, fuck you all. So I've been watching too many monster movies--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just stay out of bathrooms," James jokes.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm beginning to think Carson's got the right idea about you, Lamont," you retort, regretting the words even as they come tumbling out. "I'll see you guys around." You grab up your backpack and stalk off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wander around the halls, but you've no place to go. It's still very early, and for no better destination you wind up in the library. Pretending that nothing is wrong is going to be a lot harder than you thought. Especially after you've just made a huge scene.<br/>
<br/>
And for what? You've pissed off Carson, and James was just jerking your chain--<br/>
<br/>
You suck in your breath. That desperate feeling of cheer has evaporated, and you're back in your former state of paranoia. There was nothing <i>wrong</i> with James, except for a teasing double meaning to almost everything he said. It was like he was gloating that he knows that you know, and that you can't say anything about it.<br/>
<br/>
You rub your temples. How many replacements are <i>they</i> planning to make? It would depend on how many people are in on the scheme. And that, you suppose, would depend upon who <i>they</i> are. <br/>
<br/>
James has first period off, and he is one of the few doppelgangers (if that's what he is) that you can approach without it looking weird. Maybe if you talked to him, you could indirectly glean a sense of who they are and what they want.</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221
author_id: seuzz
title: That Which Is Wasted
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The bell rings, but you stay where you are. After ten minutes James comes in, and after a brief pause comes over to sit across from you. "I'm sorry I was giving you shit earlier."<br/>
<br/>
"Forget it. I guess you and Carson had a good laugh at my expense."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like <i>that,</i> Prescott. We weren't making fun of you behind your back." <br/>
<br/>
"Did he tell you <i>why</i> I was freaked out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah. I dunno, I wasn't there. Maybe I'da freaked out too if whatever happened to you happened to me."<br/>
<br/>
Your hackles rise, but you force them back down: it's smartest to. "No, I was being stupid."<br/>
<br/>
"And we didn't tell anyone else about what you'd said. At least, <i>I</i> didn't. We <i>are</i> friends, aren't we?" He taps the table by your hand with his knuckle. "This place is bad enough without us making life hard for each other. If the others ask, I'll play it down."<br/>
<br/>
James's expression, though slightly veiled by his characteristic irony, is guileless. His apology and explanation are totally in character. And yet there still seems to be a double meaning behind it: <i>He and his friends don't want to make your life hard.</i> But who are these <i>they?</i> James and Jenny and Paul and ...? Or James and Seth and Dane and ...?<br/>
<br/>
Yumi comes in and stands next to him. He looks up at her. "Gordon broke up with Chelsea," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Really," James replies. It's not a question, and there is no surprise in his voice. He strokes her back. "Gordon and Chelsea, Seth and Cindy. It's a like a social revolution. But without shooting a Tsar or anything." She touches his shoulder, and they smile beguilingly at each other.<br/>
<br/>
And suddenly you have the urgent desire to go. "I'm really not interested," you say as you shove your things into your pack. They say nothing. You don't run, exactly, from the library, but you do move very quickly.<br/>
<br/>
But it's too late to go to Walberg's, and wind up somewhere else.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Mr. Trencher looks up at you from his desk. "Hi Will," he says softly. "Don't you have class? "<br/>
<br/>
"I'm skipping. Please don't tell anyone." You sit in a desk.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm cool with that," he says, and his eyes twinkle.<br/>
<br/>
You like Trencher. You only took him for one class, back in your sophomore year, but he was relaxed and casual. And the fact that he still remembers your name makes you feel like he's naturally sympathetic. He doesn't look like an old hippie--his curly grey hair and his curly grey moustache are too well-kempt for that--but he teaches art, and that gives him honorary status. And he often shows a flexible regard for the rules.<br/>
<br/>
Like now: "If you're skipping, I suppose you've got a good reason," he says. You shrug. He regards you levelly before bending his head and returning to his work. "What's troubling you, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," you say. "Well, you know. The usual." Your leg jogs nervously. "Hard to explain." <br/>
<br/>
Somewhere, in a secret room high in a Swiss castle, you suspect, the Bavarian Illuminati's Sub-Committee for Literary Merit has just awarded you their "Understatement of the Year" Award for the comment "Hard to explain."<br/>
<br/>
Trencher smiles to himself. "It's always hard to explain, isn't it? Adults never understand. How could they? They were <i>always</i> adults, never teenagers." You wince a little. "How old do you think I am, Will?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Fifty, fifty-five?"<br/>
<br/>
His face falls a little. "I'm forty-six. And I teach art, not math, but even I know that forty-six minus thirty is sixteen. You can do the math too."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug again. He's trying to draw you out, obviously, because he's a nice guy and he sees that you're upset. If it were about something normal--<i>something that didn't involve freaking doppelgangers!</i>--you might let him. But you have to deflect him. "Thirty years is a long time," you observe.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm. Until you're on the other end of a thirty-year span, and then it feels like--" He sighs. "And you never really forget, Will. Not when you see your sixteen-year-old self dozens of times a day, sitting in a desk looking back at you, or milling around the hallways."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess."<br/>
<br/>
But it appears he will wax philosophical if he can't get <i>you</i> to talk. "And people are like trees, Will. They don't change. They just acquire rings. But the young men and the teenagers and even the children are still down inside them. And if you cut yourself at just the right depth, those people inside you can still scream."<br/>
<br/>
You look at him. "You got a teenager inside you who screams?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, yes," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"You ever see a psychiatrist about it?"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "No, growing up is the only psychiatrist you really need. You just put on layers and more layers, burying the old versions of yourself. Losing touch with them until something stabs you in just the right way. They call it 'getting perspective,' and it's a <i>terrifying</i> thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Growing up is scary?" you ask even as you know it's a dumb thing to say.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Because we don't fix our mistakes. We just bury them. And when we dig them up again, we realize how stupid we were. You've heard the expression 'Youth is wasted on the young'?" <br/>
<br/>
You nod: It's one of those proverbs that leaves you impatient.<br/>
<br/>
"It means something similar," he says. "You ever wish you were eight years old again? Life was so simple then. Easy homework and TV cartoons and toy trucks--" You shrug. Yeah, you've sometimes had that feeling. "Childhood is wasted on children," Trencher continues. "Youth is wasted on the young. Middle-age is wasted on the middle-aged. At least, I suspect that's what old people think."<br/>
<br/>
"And is old age wasted on old people?" you sarcastically ask.<br/>
<br/>
"In a sense," he says quietly. "Except it's ghosts on the other side. Life is wasted on the living, that's what <i>they</i> think. Otherwise, why are they always trying to possess people?"<br/>
<br/>
You shiver at the way his philosophizing has turned morbid, and on the near echo of "possession" with your own problem, so you change the subject. "What are you working on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just something for my class."<br/>
<br/>
You crane your neck to see. He's got some little metal strips in front of him, and it looks like he's been inscribing something onto one of them with some jeweler's tools. He pushes one away and draws another one to himself, then peers closely at another nearby strip before turning back to the new strip.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what's going on inside your head, Will," he says quietly. "Not the particulars, and if you don't want to tell me, I don't need to know. But I can make some educated guesses, and you've got my sympathy." The bell rings. "I'll see you around, Will," he says, and sweeps his work into a drawer.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
If you thought a talk with Trencher would settle your nerves, you were quite mistaken. In fact, your guts are twisting all around inside you, and you feel dizzy as you step into the hallway. You don't want to go to class. Blindly, you stumble through the halls and out the main doors and around the side of the school. Blindly, you wander about, feeling sick and uncertain, after the bell has rung. Blindly, you sag against a wall.<br/>
<br/>
Your brain refuses to work, and all you can do is stare. Not that there is anything to stare at, except a minivan parked at the front curb, and the middle-aged woman helping a very old man out of it. Slowly, they walk toward, then disappear into, the school.<br/>
<br/>
After twenty minutes, and lacking anything better to do, you wander back inside. And, since you're not watching where you're going, you run directly into Sagansky.<br/>
<br/>
The principal is talking to two other students but he has time and attention for you. "I don't feel good," you truthfully reply when he demands to know what you're doing out of class.<br/>
<br/>
He asks if you've got a hall pass, and you have to shake your head. "Get your ass down to the nurse's office," he growls. It's as good a place to go as any, so on numb feet you comply.<br/>
<br/>
A startled Nurse Shaffer looks up from her desk as you enter, fumbling at something in her hands, and says that she'll see you in a minute. Breathlessly, she bustles out.<br/>
<br/>
You list to the side and lean against the wall. There's nothing wrong with you except nerves. She'll probably just give you an aspirin, which, for all the good it will do you, will be almost as good as nothing else. All the energy goes out of you. Your eye falls onto her desk.<br/>
<br/>
A curious object is sitting there--the thing she was playing with. It's a concave oval, and it shines with a bluish glow, and it has little knobs and protuberances on it. You tilt your head ... and then all your hair stands on end.<br/>
<br/>
It's a mask, in shape and size like a tragedian's mask.<br/>
<br/>
The book you gave away talked about making masks.<br/>
<br/>
You glance over your shoulder, then dart a hand out to grasp it. The material is smooth and thin, though it feels much heavier than it looks like it should be. The light from the ceiling plays oddly over its surface, and you have the impression that it contains an image. You turn it over, and swallow hard to see a name floating above its inner surface: GEOFFREY JONATHAN MANSFIELD.<br/>
<br/>
Instinct takes over, and you tuck it under your shirt. You look out in the hallway, and because the coast is clear you dart down to the library, and hide in the stacks.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart pounds as you examine your prize. You've no idea, really, what it is. You should show it to Carson. Or you can experiment with it ... and maybe infiltrate <i>their</i> conspiracy?</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211
author_id: seuzz
title: Fears and Flights
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wish you were brave, like Ioeger. You wish you were braver than him. Doing something with this mask would <i>show</i> that you're braver than him.<br/>
<br/>
It would also be incredibly foolhardy. You have no idea what it is or how it works. Carson is a hell of a lot smarter about these things. You really should talk to him first. Get with him at lunch, talk with him about how to use it before--<br/>
<br/>
Nurse Shaffer is going to miss it, you realize. She's probably back in her office now. She'll notice it's gone, and she'll know that you must have taken it. <i>She</i> must be one of them--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jesus, it's the teachers who are doing it!</i><br/>
<br/>
She'll raise the alarm, and they'll come for you! They can't leave you alone now, not after you've stolen one of their own things.<br/>
<br/>
And they'll probably go after Carson, too.<br/>
<br/>
Your hands are shaking so hard you almost drop the phone as you desperately text him: GET OUTF THE SCHOL NOW RUN CALL MEWHEN YOU CAN. No time to fix typos.<br/>
<br/>
You leave the library by the outside door, and sprint around A wing until you reach the portables. Hidden behind them, you make your way past the rear of the school and the entrance to the athletic fields. It takes all the courage you can muster to run past the gym, but then you're in the parking lot, running hard for your truck. You don't know where you'll go, but you're a dead man if you stay. <i>Jesus,</i> you think, and as you grasp the wheel that customary oath almost turns into an authentic prayer. <i>Jesus, help me! I don't know where to go! No one can help me, no one will believe me!</i> Only when you're out in the street, and you've begun to notice the pain in your cheeks, do you realize that your mouth is twisted in a rictus of panic.<br/>
<br/>
You drive aimlessly, trying not to speed or wander out of your lane. Should you go find your dad at work? Show him the thing you found, tell him what you fear? He'll yell at you, he'll send you back to school, he'll take you back there himself. And he'll call you crazy. Your dad is the most level-headed man you know, and there is no way he'd believe all your babbling about magic books and doppelgangers.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe <i>that's</i> the thing to do, get yourself chucked into a lunatic asylum. Get yourself hauled out of school over a nervous breakdown. Maybe <i>they</i> wouldn't try to get you there. A crazy kid in a padded cell, who would pay attention to him? Just to be sure, maybe you should dial up the crazy act--<i>it would be just an act, wouldn't it? You're not really crazy, are you?</i>--by bringing aliens and Bigfoot into it.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe you should go home. You'd really like to see your mom again, one last time, tell her you actually do love her, and don't just like giving her aggravation. Tell her that before it's a fake Will Prescott giving her lip and attitude. Or would it? If they're replacing kids, making them "better," will the new you be "better" at home? Do his chores without complaining, do his homework, get that job that your dad is always bugging you about? You shudder. <i>Maybe parents are in on it too.</i><br/>
<br/>
Maybe you should just get on the highway and drive until you run out of gas, and take a job, any job you can get, in whatever pissant town you fetch up in. They can't be everywhere, can they? You'll change your name, hide out under a new identity. Maybe they'll "replace" the old you once they realize you're gone. Maybe you'll come creeping back into town some day, and find a new and very respectable "Will Prescott" keeping your old place warm.<br/>
<br/>
These frenzied thoughts are interrupted by the tweet of your phone. It's Carson's number, and you jerk the wheel hard to pull into the parking lot of a strip center as you answer. "Ioeger!" you shout. "Tell me it's you! Tell me it's really you!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's really me, Prescott," he says in a guarded tone. "What's this--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Get out of the school, man! Get out of there <i>now!</i> Bolt your class if you're still in it! Just get to the parking lot, get in your car and <i>run!</i>" You catch your breath. "They're onto us, and they're gonna come get us! I stole something from them! I fucking <i>stole</i> something from them, and they're gonna know it!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm already out of the school," he says. "I got your message and-- What did you take?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a <i>mask,</i>" you say. "It's gotta be the kind of thing they're using. Masks, right? I was in Nurse Shaffer's office-- It's the <i>teachers</i>, it's the <i>fucking teachers</i> that are doing it! They're doing it in the nurse's office! And this mask, it's got fucking Geoff Mansfield's name in it!"<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. Then: "Okay, where can we meet?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm on Foster, parked in front of that comic book store. You know, the one that smells funny?" A horrible ripple runs up your spine. "I want to meet someplace public, Ioeger," you say. "For <i>my</i> safety as well as <i>yours!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. How about the McDonalds across the street from there?"<br/>
<br/>
That ripple makes a return engagement, and this time the wave catches your stomach. Carson is being very calm and very businesslike, the opposite of the way he was when you last saw him. There is no panic in his voice, and no suspicion either, the way there really ought to be. <i>Were you trying to lure me into a trap?</i> he'd asked the last time you'd tried talking him into doing something. And you should ask yourself the reciprocal.<br/>
<br/>
And you do as you glance over at the McDonalds. It <i>is</i> a public place. But you have an overwhelming desire to <i>not</i> meet any place that he proposes. An idea comes to you, and it's like an answer to that earlier prayer. "No," you say very slowly and calmly. "Let's meet in front of the police station. The one on Tyler."<br/>
<br/>
Another silence. Then: "Yeah. That's a good idea. I'll see you in ten."<br/>
<br/>
Now you're half-convinced the police station is a <i>terrible</i> place to meet. <br/>
<br/>
But Carson is still talking: "Oh, one more thing. Swear me an oath. Repeat after me. My name is Will Prescott, and I am <i>exactly</i> who I say that I am."<br/>
<br/>
"Pah!" Your breath escapes in something that is half-laugh and half exasperated sigh. "I'm totally on the level, man--"<br/>
<br/>
"Swear me the oath, Prescott," he insists.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fine, if it'll make him feel better.</i> "My name is Will Prescott," you say in a very shaky voice, for the claim to your own identity feels very tenuous, "and I am exactly who I say that I am."<br/>
<br/>
"Now, have you been telling me the truth, Will? The whole truth and nothing but the truth?"<br/>
<br/>
Your muscles turn to pudding, and you have to laugh. "I'm so scared I've probably forgotten half of what I need to tell you, dude, but I ain't shitting you, man, not by a long shot." You suddenly feel very tired.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright. You get down to the police station, and I'll see you later. And don't worry, everything's gonna be okay."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>God</i>, how can you--!" But the line has gone dead. You console yourself with the thought that a replacement-Carson wouldn't ask you to prove your own identity.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You drive very carefully, for your nerves, after being so strung out, are now as thin and bodiless as the ghosts of over-boiled spaghetti. You park at the farthest end of the lot, where you can keep an alert eye on the entrance. It's a long wait, long enough for you to again start second-guessing Carson. You still don't like the way his voice sounded, or the alacrity with which he agreed to meet at the police station. Teachers. Policemen. <i>Authority figures.</i> What if the cops are in on it too? <i>No, no, don't be so paranoid. You've been paranoid enough for the past week, paranoid enough for the past hour. You really will go crazy if--</i><br/>
<br/>
Is that Carson's car? No, just a lookalike.<br/>
<br/>
Lookalike. Now you're worried about doppelganger <i>cars.</i><br/>
<br/>
You also keep alert for anyone <i>else</i> you might know. Another student, or a teacher. Cars and trucks and minivans prowl through the lot, but you recognize none of them, or any of the people driving them.<br/>
<br/>
Your phone rings, and you jump so hard your head hits the roof of the cab. You look at the number: Caleb. "Yeah," you grunt cautiously as you answer it.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Will," he says, sounding distracted. "Where are you, dude?"<br/>
<br/>
"The police station on Tyler," you blurt out before you realize it. "Why do you want to know?" you add in a panicked voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I could care less," he replies sarcastically. "Unless Ioeger and Lamont are with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would they be?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a long pause, and you hear muttered voices. "Okay, this isn't about you," he says when he returns. "I saw you running off campus, and that's your business. But I'm in Gelding's class, and he wants to know what happened to Carson and James."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would I know what happened to them?" <i>Carson and James? Why would they be--?</i> Your chest constricts.<br/>
<br/>
"It was just a hunch," he grumbles. "You've been hanging out with them so much lately, and-- Well, they're supposed to be in here with me, and Gelding's pissed because he thinks he saw them taking off together. Come on, help me out, I'm trying to get in good with--" His voice drops. "I'm trying to get in good with the nutcracker here. If I can tell them where they went-- If they're with you--"<br/>
<br/>
"They aren't," you say, truthfully enough. "And I'm about to take off anyway." You put your hand on the key.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well maybe you should get back here,"  he says. "Gladstone's not as bad as Gelding, but--"<br/>
<br/>
You hang up on him.</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111222111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Cavalry
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You really wish you knew what to do. They got James. Did they just get Carson? He sounded strange on the phone; is he trying to lure you into a trap? And that call from Caleb was also very strange; is <i>he</i> trying to trap you?<br/>
<br/>
You decide to wait for Ioeger. If you see him, and things look funny, you can take off before he gets close.<br/>
<br/>
So you're glaring nervously at the street when you see a movement in your side view mirror. Someone is walking up the side of your truck, and you flinch back as he stops to grin in at you through the window.<br/>
<br/>
It's Dane Matthias.<br/>
<br/>
And then you blink. It's not Dane, just a blond kid who looks kind of like Dane. His bright eyes gleam with mischief like Dane's, but he's bigger than Dane, and his hair is thicker and heavier, hanging down just below his brows and to the tips of his earlobes. Your hand shoots over to the truck key as he gestures at you to roll down your window. "I can hear you just fine," you holler back.<br/>
<br/>
"Really? Awesome! Can you move your truck for me?"<br/>
<br/>
Why do you need to move your truck? But maybe it's a good idea: You can get a new spot, one easier to escape from. So you turn the key.<br/>
<br/>
The engine gasps and dies. You turn the key again. Nothing. You keep cranking it, but your truck is dead. You look over, and the kid again gestures at you. Now terrified, you shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
The kid smiles--a warm thing--and jerks his chin at something behind you. You look: Another teenager, with a saturnine expression on his face, gazes in at you from the passenger side window.<br/>
<br/>
"You can't run, Prescott," the blonde kid shouts in at you, and you turn back to gape in horror at him. "But that's okay. You don't <i>want</i> to run from us. It's hard to believe, but we're here to rescue you." He glances to the side. "Carson Ioeger is with us. Just call us the cavalry." He grins.<br/>
<br/>
You're not reassured. But your truck is dead, and you're trapped between these two guys, and you're tired of running. Just let it all end. Your limbs are limp as you open the truck door. The blond kid grasps you, but it's not like he's <i>caught</i> you. It's more like he's supporting you, and you feel a little electric spark of strength from his embrace, and you are able to walk under your own power over to another truck not too dissimilar from your own, in the cab of which sits a very haggard-looking Carson Ioeger. James Lamont is <i>not</i> with him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You got guts," the dark-haired kid growls as he looks down at the mask, which he's holding. He's introduced himself as "Frank Durras," but he's still a stranger as far as you're concerned. Same goes for his blonde brother, Joe.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you got guts," Frank says again. "Either that, or you're really short in the brains department."<br/>
<br/>
"Light, Frank," Joe says. "People aren't 'short' on brains, they're 'light'. Brains got mass, not height-- Well, they got that, too, but their salient characteristic--"<br/>
<br/>
"You got a point, or are you just trying to piss me off?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe laughs. "Yeah, just givin' you the business."<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting in the living room of the sparsely furnished house to which Joe and Frank had taken you. You glance at Carson, who is huddled at one end of the sofa while you huddle at the other. He doesn't look any happier than you feel.<br/>
<br/>
"So," Frank says. "Which of you wants to tell your story?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd like know who <i>you</i> guys are," Carson says. You agree: Joe had only prattled on the drive over.<br/>
<br/>
"Fair's fair, Frank," Joe says as his brother glares narrowly at Ioeger. "So, we told you our names--"<br/>
<br/>
"Are those your real faces?" Carson demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't say it, Joe," Frank starts.<br/>
<br/>
"In my case, luckily yes," Joe grins. "In Frank's case, unluckily ... yes." Frank pinches the bridge of his nose.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, they're definitely brothers,</i> you decide, remembering your own thirteen-year-old sibling. <i>Frank's the older one, and Joe's the pissy, smart-alecky, elder-baiting one.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Where'd you guys come from, how'd you find us?" you demand. "And how do you know about--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ioeger found us," Frank says. "He emailed John Reilly, who's one of us--"<br/>
<br/>
"Us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Joe drawls. "That's kind of hard to explain. But we have kind of a family business, kind of a supernatural crime-fighting business--"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean like that TV show?" Carson asks in a mocking tone. "You're like <i>those</i> guys?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe chortles while Frank glares coldly at Carson. "I <i>hate</i> that show," he says with quiet poison.<br/>
<br/>
"But that's a good enough analogy for now," Joe shrugs. He leans in toward Frank, and his voice dramatically changes timbre. "Hey Sam, I think we need to go pick up some more rock salt-- Ow!" He clutches his nose as Frank pops him in the face.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so," Frank continues. "Your friend here emailed a guy who works with us--"<br/>
<br/>
"What's this about you emailing people?" you demand of Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"It's called research," he snaps at you. "You know, the kind of thing you're supposed to do when freaky magic books show up. I looked up some of those phrases you copied down, found a site where the webmaster seemed to have heard of it. I emailed him asking for more information. He emailed back, saying he had a whole <i>box</i> of stuff he could send if I gave him a snail-mail address." He jerks his chin at Frank and Joe. "And then <i>these</i> guys showed up at school this morning--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, as soon as you sent him your address, he passed it along to us," Joe laughs. "He's so smart, or you're so stupid. Either way, it was real lucky you did. We were in town anyway, because we were looking for the <i>Libra</i>--"<br/>
<br/>
"You were what?" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"That book of yours," he says slowly, as though addressing a very young and stupid child. "We were looking for it."<br/>
<br/>
"I got <i>that</i>. What do you mean you were looking for it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like we said," Frank says. "It's our family business. We get rid of things like what you found, so people can't use them."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, like I was going to," you grunt. "And look what good it did."<br/>
<br/>
"Things stay gone when <i>we</i> get rid of them," Frank says with grim satisfaction. He wheels on Joe: "Like I'll get rid of <i>you, you asshole,</i> if you don't stop making faces at me behind my back!"<br/>
<br/>
Joe turns very pink. "I wasn't make a face, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
"No, but you were <i>thinking</i> about it! Okay, that's <i>our</i> story," he says in a quieter voice as he turns back to you. "We've been trying to find the <i>Libra Personae,</i> we tracked it here, got a bead on Ioeger, grabbed him, followed up with you, and here we are. Now, what's <i>your</i> story?"<br/>
<br/>
Well, what else is there to do? And so you tell him all that's happened to you and Carson. They listen patiently and question you about every step. Carson adds his own notes, and it all ends with you telling about finding the mask in Nurse Shaffer's office.<br/>
<br/>
By this point you are all sitting in a loose circle on the floor. Frank hands the mask to Joe. "Can you figure out anything about it?"<br/>
<br/>
His brother examines it long and closely, but finally drops it with a sigh. "No. I'd need to see the <i>Libra</i> to see how it works." <br/>
<br/>
Frank grunts. "Well, first, though, we should rescue some people. So Prescott thinks it's the teachers doing it--"<br/>
<br/>
"Could still be students, Frank," Joe says. "This guy who likes to snoop--"<br/>
<br/>
"The nurse--"<br/>
<br/>
"She could be a victim too. It's a good set up for catching people."<br/>
<br/>
"Regardless--"<br/>
<br/>
"Regardless of what <i>you're</i> going to say," Joe says, "we should grab one of these doppelganger--" There is something odd about the way he says the word "--and get the story from them."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what <i>I</i> was going to say."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, now that I said it first."<br/>
<br/>
"You only said it first so that you could pretend that I got it from you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Guys!" Carson shouts. "Will you shut up and tell us what we're going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
Silence. Then: "You're so smart," Joe mutters at Frank.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," Frank snarls back. He takes a phone from his pocket. "School will be out by now. We'll call Black, challenge him to a little game of ball. Then--"<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think he'd accept a challenge?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Joe grins. "We go to Eastman. We're on <i>their</i> team. Ain't no way Black--or his doppelganger--" Again, that odd pronunciation "--could resist a little trash talk. Then we grab him--"<br/>
<br/>
"Black is big," you warn him. "Big, mean and strong."<br/>
<br/>
"Not as big and mean and strong as Frank. There, see, I <i>can</i> pay you a compliment!" Joe yells at his brother, who ignores him. "We'll get him to talking," Joe continues. "Same as we got <i>you two</i> to talking."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Joe snickers. "That's <i>my</i> little secret." He looks very impish.<br/>
<br/>
Frank lowers the phone, and he and Joe start talking in a language you don't recognize. So you turn to Carson. "When did you meet these guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"They hauled me out of second period, right about the time you sent me that text."<br/>
<br/>
"And you trusted them that fast?" you ask in alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't trust them now," he says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"Then why did you tell me to meet them--"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't," he says grimly. "That was <i>Joe</i> you were talking to. Perfect mimicry. Listen. He's doing <i>you</i> now."<br/>
<br/>
You look over. Joe's voice has changed again. He sees you looking at him, and stops in mid-sentence long enough to suppress a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"We're gonna meet these assholes," Frank says to you and Carson. "Or one of them. You guys wanna come?"</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221111
author_id: rugal
title: From the Ruins of Shattered Plans
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stare at the scene before you in disbelief. The loft is trashed with boxes and other things strewn around. Some people are groaning, still holding their ribs. Others are perfectly fine but panting heavily. A couple are just coming to. And here you and Carson are, standing in the middle of all of this, stunned at what you just witnessed. It was quick but felt like an eternity and the result...? Well, if you hadn't seen it with your own eyes you never would've believed it. Now that you think back on it, you still hardly can...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You know you wanna come, dontcha," Joe asks, his face beaming.<br/>
<br/>
Carson, for his part, looks reluctant. A level beyond reluctance, actually, bordering on outright refusal. He's already said he doesn't trust either of these guys but you take a quick glance over at them. Joe certainly looks warm and friendly enough, sure, but there's also something puckish about him and you're not sure if that's a genuine Lokian love of mischief or more of a free spirit thing. Frank, on the other hand, comes off cold and tense but if these guys are who they say they are he seems like someone who you could count on to help you out.<br/>
<br/>
But that's a big if, right? "So, uh, how do we know," you ask. Both Joe and Frank look at you but Joe makes a noise indicating that you've now got their full attention, "You give us this story about being supernatural crime fighters right? Obviously there's some <i>shit</i> going down but how do we know we can trust you?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe and Frank each cast a glance at the other and it's Frank who speaks, "Look, we already told you alright? This isn't the kind of thing we'd reveal to anybody..."<br/>
<br/>
But before he can get another word out you jump in. "And what," you challenge, "We just met you guys, why should we believe a thing you say?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will's right," Carson suddenly chimes in, "For all we know your little monster hunting club's even worse than the guys who have got us shitting bricks."<br/>
<br/>
"Or you could've just been feeding us a line of bullshit," you add as you feel your heart pumping and your hands get clammy, "Maybe you're just some assholes from Eastman looking to take the book and do what's going on at our school. Or, hell, maybe you're working <i>with them</i>! Or--"<br/>
<br/>
"Man, will you guys just shut up for a second," the words are calm but they still have impact as they're coming from the previously laid back and goofy but now dead serious Joe. "Look, we're definitely the good guys alright," he says once you've zipped it, "What we told you? It's the truth and you can either believe it or not but trust me, you definitely want to believe it."<br/>
<br/>
"First time I've ever seen that doofus as serious as a heart attack," Frank mutters, "But he's right. We're going to find these guys, we're going to set things right and then we're going to take that book and put it where it belongs."<br/>
<br/>
You and Carson look at them, then each other, then back at them. Finally it's you who speaks. "So, uh, where would that be," is all you can really get out.<br/>
<br/>
Joe's smile returns. "Dunno yet," he states with a shrug, "Could be deep in the archives where only top men will be able to find it. Could just use it as kindling for a bonfire. Depends on what Dad wants to do with it."<br/>
<br/>
"So, you guys really are gonna do it huh," says Carson looking for all the world like he's trying as hard as humanly possible to keep his cool, "Ya know, if you do succeed I wanna be there and see those guys get what they've got coming to them personally. Watch their whole little kingdom come crashing down around them," he then looks over at you, "That'd be great, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You look back at him for a moment and then slowly nod your head.<br/>
<br/>
"Great," Joe says, flashing you the widest grin you've seen from him yet.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Alright so what's going on," you ask as the the four of you stand huddled near the door of your truck, parked in front of the Westside gym. You see a few other cars as well, probably belonging some pot smokers, people still in detention or other stragglers though you do recognize one: an old Bug belonging to Gordon Black. A bit of simple googling had gotten you his phone number so he was quite surprised, and more than a little pissed, when one of Eastman's own players called him out of the blue to challenge him to a bragging rights game. But Gordon's nothing if not prideful so he wasn't going to pass up the chance to humiliate one of their crosstown rivals.<br/>
<br/>
At least, that's the information Joe had relayed back to you.<br/>
<br/>
"We all go in, Joe and me take care of Black, you guys stay out of the way," Frank says in a rather blunt manner.<br/>
<br/>
"That's it," Carson asks in surprise, "Figured you guys would want us as bait or something since they're onto us. Especially if..." he pauses and shifts a little bit, "Fuck, man," he looks at you and you see actual concern and worry on his face, "You said on the way over that James and Yumi were giving off weird vibes right? So that probably means they got 'em and if they got James and Yumi that means..." another pause, "Jenny. Fuck," he growls.<br/>
<br/>
"Her and Paul, yeah," is all you can say quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, look, I'm sure--" Joe starts but is stopped by an older, slightly fat woman walking out of the gym. It's one of the receptionists, you think. Probably telling whoever's in the gym that they need to get out but possibly she's one of them too. If she notices your presence she doesn't acknowledge it and Joe continues one she's walked on to her car, "Right, I'm sure your friends are fine and even if they've been replaced, well, we're gonna fix this mess so they'll be back before you guys know it."<br/>
<br/>
With that he gives you both claps on the shoulder and the four of you head into the gym. You're not surprised to see Gordon. Slightly less so to see Patterson and Javits. Definitely surprised to see Cameron Huber, Laurent Delacroix and Ethan Nieves though. Not only is it six on four, six on two really, but Gordon and Cameron are big. Laurent and Ethan are wrestlers. You're seriously fucked, you realize. Well and truly fucked.<br/>
<br/>
And then your surprise turns to an unnerved feeling as you see Dane approach you all with a smile. "Will, Carson, good to see you guys! What's up," he says in a friendly, relaxed manner. He then looks at Joe and Frank, "You two, Eastman players huh? I heard one of you was looking to play Gordon in a little friendly game of one-on-one."<br/>
<br/>
Joe raises his hand in a "that's me" gesture.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, but that's not happening," Dane states, "Gordon... he's a poor winner and a worse loser. I really don't want anyone getting hurt so how about this: we all go up the loft, share some beer and talk things out. Get to know one another, you know?" He then turns back to you and Carson, "You guys especially. You've been so jumpy and I wanna put you at ease."<br/>
<br/>
The four of you look at one another though it's Joe who speaks, "They're probably keeping the book up there," he says quietly, "So we go up, throw 'em around and grab it."<br/>
<br/>
The four of you agree and Dane leads you up into the loft with everyone following. No sooner are all of you in, however, than Cameron, who was behind you, acts quickly and dumps a mask onto Joe's face.<br/>
<br/>
Joe slumps immediately and Frank reacts almost as fast. He throws a punch, seemingly at nothing, but something does connect with Cameron and sends him sprawling. Gordon's next, charging at Frank who turns and is able to catch him with a punch to the gut. Ethan and Laurent are up but both are likewise sent down by... well, something you can't see. And that something seems to grab Dane who's struggling to move.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, you're going to tell me where that book is, or so help me..." Frank growls.<br/>
<br/>
But he never gets a chance to finish his threat as another mask, Patterson handling it this time, makes its way to his face. Dane falls to his knees hacking and coughing. Eventually he looks up with a grin, "Heh, wild, huh," he says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So that's how you're standing here in the loft of Westside's gym with Dane and Patterson while Ethan, Gordon, Laurent and Cameron pick themselves up and the Durras brothers lay unconscious on the floor. Dane looks at you guys and smiles, "So that's it, then."<br/>
<br/>
"We got a choice," Carson asks trying, and failing, to sound challenging.<br/>
<br/>
"You do. Westside or Eastman," Dane replies.<br/>
<br/>
"I meant joining or not joining."<br/>
<br/>
Dane shakes his head. "No dice, man," he states, "You've seen what's going on. I can't let you two just leave... at least not as yourselves. You join or we put you under masks of yourselves under our control. Simple as that."<br/>
<br/>
After recovering Dane had revealed, at least somewhat, what was going on. That his group has the book. That they've been "replacing" people using the downtrodden of the school to give them a better life. Most of them assholes like Black but all of them the choice of the person doing the replacing. And you and Carson are now, inadvertaetly, in.<br/>
<br/>
Once the masks are ready, Dane and Javits will be heading to Eastman as Joe and Frank. Patterson was already transferring over. They've got backups for themselves here but you've got a choice: they'll give you a list of candidates by tonight or tomorrow and you come with them to Eastman where they can keep an eye on you. He then shoves a mask in your hand and tells you to turn it over and look at the name: VICTORIA EMILIA RODRIGUEZ is visible.<br/>
<br/>
She was intended for someone else but if you guys are staying then one of you becomes Victoria, the other grabs someone from her group and you go meet with Kim Walsh as you'll be under her supervision and trust him, he said, Kim's not as nice as he is.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211111
author_id: rugal
title: Victoria Rodriguez and the Real Rulers of Westside
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You look at the mask of Victoria Rodriguez in your hand. She's a highly desired girl so it's not hard to see why someone looking to improve their place in life would be willing to become her. But now that someone is going to be either yourself or Carson and while you're certainly scared and unnerved by everything that's happened over the last however long you're also a bit excited, loathe as you are to admit it. You and Carson will essentially lose your old lives while Victoria and whoever the pair of you choose will lose theirs to you. And while Dane and his group still deeply unnerve you, part of you feels relief that your paranoia seems to be over... at least in terms of having to look over your shoulder and jump at your own shadow.<br/>
<br/>
But he gave you a choice: Eastman or Westside.<br/>
<br/>
You look at Carson, then at Dane. "Hey, uh, Dane," you say nervously finally speaking up, "Would it be alright if... if Carson and I kind of huddle up and work things out?"<br/>
<br/>
Dane gives it a second of thought. "Sure, sure," he states with a nod, "We've gotta get our stuff applied to these masks anyway. Definitely don't want these guys waking up under their own power."<br/>
<br/>
So you watch as Dane and Javits head over behind some boxes out of sight followed by Patterson and a now mostly recovered Gordon. Carson and yourself head to a corner on the opposite side of the loft.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't trust them," are the first words from Carson's mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know," you reply as you fidget nervously casting a glance back, "I guess they could've done worse to us after what we've tried to do but..."<br/>
<br/>
"We're stealing lives," Carson states with a tone that's a combination of guilt and an attempt to shame you, "Fuck me, Prescott, we're <i>becoming</i> these guys. The body snatchers who we thought we were fighting against? It's like some fucking Twilight Zone episode. Turns out we were the monsters all along."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah but we don't have a choice," you sigh, "If I'd just kept the book or maybe given it to you and James or someone this wouldn't be happening would it?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson stays silent for a few seconds. "Maybe," he finally states, "Or maybe it would've still happened. Our experience with this all has been some freaky paranoid shit but if it was us with the book and not them?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod, "I don't like believing in fate or anything but maybe this was unavoidable, I don't know." There's a small, awkward silence that you then break, "So what's it gonna be? Eastman or Westside?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson just gives a noncommittal shrug, "We're either under their thumb or we're under someone else's thumb."<br/>
<br/>
"You think Dane was telling the truth," you ask, "About Kim being worse?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me," Carson shrugs before letting out a small laugh, "But fuck, could you imagine Mega-Bitch Kim Walsh? Goddamn the absurdity of it makes my head spin." He shifts a bit uncomfortably, "To tell you the truth I don't wanna have those two guys monitoring our every move. But you want me to be completely honest," he asks and you nod, "I'm gonna be straight with you, Prescott. James, Jenny, Yumi, Paul? Those guys all mean a lot to me. But Jenny means <i>a lot</i> to me, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I figured as much. Shit was slightly less obvious than Paul with Yumi," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"Glad I'm like an open book to you, then," he grumbles, "But look, there's a part of me that's honestly scared we're going to meet these chicks and Jenny's going to be standing right there with them. That'd honestly hurt worse than James."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, man. I'm sorry," is all you can say.<br/>
<br/>
"For what? You didn't do shit," he shoots back, "Besides a bigger part of me would want to know. It'd drive me nuts being away from Westside and not knowing what's going on with her or any of them."<br/>
<br/>
"So what are you saying," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Carson just shakes his head, "What I'm saying is that I don't have the first fucking clue so I'll go with whatever you pick."<br/>
<br/>
It's all on your shoulders, is it? You don't like that. You don't really like any aspect of this but maybe Carson's right: maybe if you'd held onto the book from the beginning you'd be the one where Dane is now. You'd be the one working to "change" the school. Admittedly you'd like to see Westside get better and maybe these guys aren't full of hot air. Seeing Westside get better is something you can't do from Eastman but...<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, are you fags ready," you hear Gordon's voice bellow.<br/>
<br/>
You look down at Victoria's mask once more. "Yeah," you call back, "We are!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"God, Molly, you can be such a liar some times you know that?" you state in a disappointed tone as you primp yourself in front of the a mirror in the girls' room.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I passed along what I'd heard that's all," replies Molly Shaw, the tiny brunette standing to your left. "As soon as I heard it I thought you'd want to know. You guys have been having a little bit of trouble anyway so I thought..."<br/>
<br/>
"You thought what," you demand as you wheel around on her, your temper getting the better of you. You take all matters regarding Joey, that is your boyfriend Joe Ysleta, seriously.<br/>
<br/>
"Calm down, Victoria," comes the voice of Vanessa Bailey. It would be her, you think. "Molly only had your best interests in mind."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," Molly replies not backing down an inch even though you're practically in her face, "I heard that Joe had been fucking around on you and I just... I got so pissed off!" Her face scrunches up in disgust, "You're one of my best friends. I'm not going to let some asshole think he can fool around behind your back."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, tell whoever told you that shit to go jump off a bridge," you shoot back, "Joey met with me and we had a long talk about it. He totally cleared the air and nothing's going on." You then blush a little as you add, "Then we... you know..."<br/>
<br/>
"See? Like, I told you that there was totaly nothing going on Molly," comes the voice of the voice of Emmy Keller; a girl whose mental depth is inversely proportional to her chest size.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Why would you believe anything that fag Hartlein tells you anyway," adds Mindy McAdams, the hanger on of the not-quite-good-enough group.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I was just trying to protect her, alright," Molly fumes.<br/>
<br/>
You hold her eye before smiling, "It's fine. I know you wouldn't do anything to screw up me and Joey," you state as you turn back to primping. Except Molly would. She's such a conniving little sociopath and Victoria can see right through her efforts to bust up her and Joe. But it's a delicate game and if Victoria rebelled then Vanessa, Emmy and Mindy would probably fall in line against her.<br/>
<br/>
Though Molly was right. Joe has been screwing around with one of the other girls that's been replaced--as Joe himself has been--and in fact that's how they got Victoria up in the loft in the first place: Victoria received a message from him saying to meet him at the gym so they could talk where she was promptly pounced on by Dane and his group.<br/>
<br/>
You finish up the last bit of makeup and check yourself over. "Alright, I'll catch up with you all later," you state as you carefully place said makeup into your purse, "Joey and me are gonna have a quickie before first period."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your meeting with Kim went... better than expected, you want to say. You're not sure if she's worse than Dane yet but she's certainly different: direct, terse, all-business and icy. Almost the real Kim Walsh's complete opposite in every way. You had looked around the room used by the school paper, used in a very loose term as the paper's really just Kim and whoever she can wrangle into actually doing things that week, and were surprised at some of the faces you'd seen.<br/>
<br/>
Kendra and Yumi weren't surprises, of course. Jessica Garner wasn't either though Eva not being there was a bit. Anita Nuevo shouldn't have been but she seems so far removed from Westside's politics that it still sort of was. Rachel Burton was: you'd think if anyone wanted one of the AP girls then Kelsey or Amanda would be the obvious choices. Or Andrea or Bethany from the swim team. Though Rachel's a nice mix between both the athletic and academic worlds, you guess. Jelena Petrovic was the one that really surprised you... at least at first. But she has such an aura of relaxed coolness about her that it wasn't hard to see why someone would want her.<br/>
<br/>
And it is, in fact, Jelena you're talking too after the little meeting ended as she'd volunteered to get you acclimated and explain things telling you how the two blank masks you'd been given, one for Carson and one for his new home, work. "I'll act as the intermediary," she says as she takes a mask from you, "I'll get this to him then give it back to you when I see you again. Sound hard?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head at that, "So you have any suggestion on who'd be good," you ask her. Though Dane had said someone from Victoria's group, Kim had told you to just grab someone good.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, one of your friends would be good sure," Jelena replies. You immediately think of Vanessa: taking her away from Molly would dampen Molly's influence. "There's also the girls basketball team," she adds.<br/>
<br/>
"What about them," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Kim kind of thinks Almida's got an ego she doesn't deserve and needs to be brought down a bit," Jelena states plainly, "Put your friend in for one of the other members, Kristy or Nia maybe, and we'll work to get them promoted up to captain in or her place. Or maybe for Almida herself and just have your friend make her a little more humble."<br/>
<br/>
"So, my friends or the basketball team?"<br/>
<br/>
"Simply suggestions, it's up to you," Jelena states. "Have a decision by the end of the day, call me, and we'll get it done," she says before adding, "Then, I dunno, we can hang out for a bit or something. You've probably got questions and I'd kind of like to pick your brains too."</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111222111112
author_id: rugal
title: The Things You Learn
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Joey," you exclaim indignantly as you march over to, and up, the bleachers inside the gym.<br/>
<br/>
Ysleta gives you a look of shock and slouches down in the stands as now stand over him giving him your best pissed off expression. "Babe, what's, uh, what's wrong," he nervously stammers, his eyes starting to shift.<br/>
<br/>
Your expression remains the same as you continue to harangue him, "You know exactly what's wrong! I'd heard you were in the gym and I thought, god, that's just so strange because you're never around here but now..." You look down at the court where the girls' basketball team is just finishing up a small scrimmage. To keep them sharp is the official reason. In reality, the team's captain Almida Jones will call small practices and scrimmages at random seemingly because she can. Her position comes more from sucking up to the right people than any actual talent. You turn back to Joe, "God it's all true, isn't it!"<br/>
<br/>
That was loud enough to turn a few heads from down on the court. Ysleta now starts fidgeting, "I... I don't know--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're right, you don't know," you exclaim even louder and angrier, "You lied to me last night! Lied, Joseph!"<br/>
<br/>
More attention is drawn.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, can you please calm down and I can--"<br/>
<br/>
"You can what," you ask, venom dripping from your tongue as you say the words, "Leer after every other girl in the school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Victoria, come on, I can explain," he protests but it falls on deaf ears.<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing for you to explain," you say as tears start welling up in your eyes, "But I'm going to explain something to you: Joseph Ysleta, we are through!"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes go wide at that, "Through," he exclaims in shock, "But Victoria, I swear--"<br/>
<br/>
You cut him off once more, "Swear all you want, Joseph but we're done! We're done," you yell, tears now streaming down your face, "We're done and I never want to see your face again!"<br/>
<br/>
By that time any stragglers have made it into the locker room. Well good, word will spread which is exactly what you wanted. Joe Ysleta and Victoria Rodriguez were going to be breaking up, it's just been sped up. You plop down on the bleachers next to Ysleta, a rather triumphant look on his face. Your partner in crime for this charade, for his part, just looks shocked.<br/>
<br/>
"You can stop, you know. The show's over," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, yeah sure but... wow," he mutters, "That was good. Real good. I completely thought you really were her for a second."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's the point of these masks right," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well yeah but for a lot of us it takes a while," he replies as he sits up, "But you were shitting yourself yesterday and today you slipped into character immediately."<br/>
<br/>
"It... it wasn't hard at all, to be honest," you state and you now shift a bit uncomfortably at the the thought of how easily you slipped into the role of Victoria Rodriguez. "Anyway, that's done so now the whole school's gonna know about what happened. That gonna make things harder with... whoever it is you're hooking up with? Who is it anyway," you ask, "Uh, if that's alright to ask."<br/>
<br/>
Ysleta for his part just shrugs and then tells you. And it's a name that makes your hair stand on end.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Christ, this is so hard to get used to," Kristy says as you, her and Jelena sit in the living room of the house Jelena shares with her older sister and some roommates. It's a place you'd think would be dangerous but according to her K.C., that is Jelena's sister, flits in and out and the others use it more as a place to crash than anything so aren't around except morning and night.<br/>
<br/>
As for Kristy, the former Carson Ioegger, getting her hadn't been hard. It was something that Jelena had actually helped you devise: as Joe and Victoria, or rather their replacements, were breaking up stage a fight in the gym on the basis of Joe ogling the girls' basketball team. Sit behind in the gym crying afterwards and one of them would be sure to try comforting you. Take her somewhere private and make the switch.<br/>
<br/>
That someone was Kristy Suffolk, the co-captain of team and Almida's right hand though in truth it's more due to intimidation than anything. At least according to the new Kristy who's had a bit of a hard time getting into character.<br/>
<br/>
"It'll take a bit," Jelena states as she takes a drag of her cigarette, "You should get it by tomorrow or so. Most people do in a day. Most people," she says as she turns an amused gaze towards you.<br/>
<br/>
"Ysleta was really surprised to," you reply fidgeting, "To tell you the truth it makes me a little uncomfortable with how easy it is for me to slip in and out of character."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm surprised you never tried out for the drama club," she says, "You sound like you'd be a natural."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks, I guess," you say as you relax a little, "I'm still uncomfortable with all of this in general. You're not all like I expected."<br/>
<br/>
"And how's that," Jelena smiles.<br/>
<br/>
"Pod people, pretty much," replies Kristy for you still looking awkward. A small part of you finds it funny: Kristy's a pretty girl, slim and toned with wavy blonde hair so seeing her look so uncomfortable in her own skin is kind of amusing.<br/>
<br/>
"But you're really not," you say as you then shift in Jelena's direction, "Like you. You're... pretty nice I guess. Relaxed. It makes me feel a little more at ease."<br/>
<br/>
"Well some of that is... well, Jelena's I guess personality," she says turning to meet your gaze, "Once you get the hang of it letting the person's character shine through becomes natural."<br/>
<br/>
"So is this all her or all you," you ask, "How do you feel right now?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm a dyke with two pretty girls sitting on my loveseat. How do you think I feel," she replies wryly with a bit of a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that YOU you or Jelena you," comes another question from you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," is the incredibly simple reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright so are you a lesbian under that mask," you ask rolling your eyes a bit, a little bit of a Victoria touch.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, are you even a woman under there," this time it's Kristy jumping in, "You an adult or a teenager? Teacher or a student?"<br/>
<br/>
Jelena just shakes her head, "As far as you're concerned I am who I am," she states never once straying from the calm, reassuring tone of voice. "Who I am under here doesn't matter because that's not who I am now. Just like you two. You girls aren't Will Prescott and Carson Ioegger as far you or anyone else is concerned."<br/>
<br/>
Well this is getting nowhere so you decide to change course. "Alright, so then how many of you are there," you ask, "Because Ysleta told me who he's fucking and it's definitely not someone that I saw this mornings." It still knocks the wind out of your sales but at the same time you can't say you're surprised that someone would want to be Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
"There's some more. I guess you know about that one," Jelena states, "A few more cheerleaders. Other random assorted ones. If they want to tell you that's their prerogative, not mine."<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny Ashton," comes the voice of Kristy, "What about her? And don't bullshit me either."<br/>
<br/>
Jelena looks surprised at that. "No, she's not," she finally says after a silence and you notice a bit of a sorrowful tone in her voice. You wonder if she's being honest about that one.<br/>
<br/>
You spend another hour or so over at Jelena's house before her sister, a skinny and lavender-haired young woman, comes home from class. At that point you break for the day as you need to get to house of Dane and Javits, or rather Joe and Frank which Joe had texted you about half an hour earlier.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Can you believe it Frank? It's like some kind of magic phone," Joe says as he opens the door and invites the pair of you into the house. "Like I just say 'Hey, I want Victoria Rodriguez' over and here she is!"<br/>
<br/>
Frank, for his part, grumbles as you and Kristy take a seat on the couch.<br/>
<br/>
"And look Frank, she brings friends too," he says excitedly as he eyes Kristy up and down, "But man I just can't remember her."<br/>
<br/>
"Kristy Suffolk," you say, "Co-captain of the girls' basketball team."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, right. Thought I said to grab one of your friends though, Victoria," Joe states.<br/>
<br/>
"Kim said to grab whoever," you shrug, "They were looking to put the screws to Almida so I figured, I dunno, I'd try making myself useful."<br/>
<br/>
"Initiative! I like it," he says with a grin, "But man, Kristy Suffolk... something else about that name sounds familiar but I can't quite put my finger on it."<br/>
<br/>
"Fort Suffolk," Kristy finally chirps up.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the base got to do with anything," Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I've been trying to get into character and looking through her head," Kristy states now sounding a little less awkward, "There was a guy who used to work for the military. You know all those conspiracy theories about, like, the Philadelphia Experiment or Project Stargate? The military looking into supernatural phenomena or concepts? There was a guy involved in that stuff back in the fifties named Calvin Suffolk. He did a lot of work in the area here because of the stories and everything. Once he retired they named the place after him."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait... so Kristy Suffolk and Fort Suffolk," Frank pauses as it dawns on him, "No way."<br/>
<br/>
"Kristy's grandfather," she replies, "She's always had kind of a small interest in weird stories, crypto garbage, magic and the like because of it. Her and her ol' Calvin were pretty close."<br/>
<br/>
Joe and Frank look at each other and then talk in a language you don't understand. Then they look at you and Joe's face breaks into a wide grin, "So, how would you two like to learn a little bit of real magic?"</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221111121
author_id: rugal
title: The Natural
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Would we like to... what," you ask in disbelief, a feeling that must be showing all over your face as Joe starts laughing. "No, I'm serious," you protest, "What do you mean would we like to learn magic?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like it's exactly what I said," Joe states as if it were the most obvious, normal invitation.<br/>
<br/>
"We gave it some thought over the weekend," says Frank, "Some of us, not just Joe and myself, were going to be going over to Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, we want to improve that place as well, that's the whole reason we've got these things you know," adds Joe, "But giving it some thought... we don't know anyone over there! So it'd be easier if we took along a few people we trust."<br/>
<br/>
"But that'd leave us shorthanded at Westside," continues Frank, "Any of us who are in this has to know how this stuff works. How to make a mask or a mind band or any of that."<br/>
<br/>
"And since the two of you <i>don't</i> quite know how yet, do you," asks Joe. The pair of you respond that you don't and Joe's wide grin returns, flashing a row of perfect white teeth, "Well then you're going to need to learn. You're going to have to step up. Doubly so in order to fill in for anyone we bring over."<br/>
<br/>
There's something about it which unnerves you... more than you've been unnerved anyway. You look over at Kristy and can see that she herself is even more uncomfortable.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, none of this feels right," she says as she sinks into the couch. "We set out to stop you guys and it just... we're helping you do the same shit. I can't believe it."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course you're helping us," Joe says reassuringly, "Because you know we're doing the right thing. Once we've made things better everyone will get their lives back. You'll see."<br/>
<br/>
"And how long is that gonna take, huh," she shoots back, "How long is Kristy here gonna be asleep under my stinkin' visage?"<br/>
<br/>
"As long as it takes," Frank replies with the same quiet serious he's had since you met him. The original him. And the fact it's just some imposter doing it perfectly gets to you a little more.<br/>
<br/>
Joe nods in agreement, "Frank's right. This is a grand undertaking. We can't just stay for a week and think that'll fix everything. We have to see it through until we're sure that everything's been changed on a fundamental level." He then looks at you, a knowing expression on his face, "Besides, there's some other perks there right <i>Victoria</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself turn a bit red at that and pull your arms around you in embarassment... only to feel your large chest rest on top of them. You have to admit that being in Victoria's body feels good. There's certainly a lot of her but in a way that's sexy and shaped well as opposed to... well you think of how dumpy and shapeless some of the unpopular girls are.<br/>
<br/>
"That's... that's beside the point," you protest which causes Joe to laugh. Frank barely cracks a smile.<br/>
<br/>
"That's rich," Joe says with a small bit of a chuckle once he's finally stopped, "We would've brought you in from the start if we knew you'd be this entertaining."<br/>
<br/>
"But these are the last few minutes you're going to be able to enjoy her, Prescott," Frank says back to his usual dour self.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you--"<br/>
<br/>
"We're not going to backstab you if that's what you're thinking," says Joe trying to reassure you, "But what Ioegger told us about Kristy struck a chord. He's been having a little trouble adjusting but you? You slip into character like it's putting on a shirt. You're a natural."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that mean," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well we want to teach you how to use this book. Kristy's got an interest in this stuff according to Ioegger," Joe states plainly, "That'd make her a little more pliable."<br/>
<br/>
"You want me and Prescott to switch masks," Kristy states as she folds her arms.<br/>
<br/>
"Correct," Joe exclaims, "Prescott in Kristy's mask would probably pick up on this stuff. Not to speak bad of you Ioegger but I think it takes a certain... acceptance to use these things fully. You're kind of resisting it so maybe a nice pair of tits would be more your speed because it doesn't look like Kristy herself has much to brag about."<br/>
<br/>
"Meanwhile Will, in Kristy's mask, would probably absorb this a whole lot better," adds Frank.<br/>
<br/>
You and Kristy cast a glance at each other. This is all so fucked up and you know it but... well you're not in a position to protest or resist. Not if you don't want to completely lose yourself inside masks that would turn you into mindless slaves. "So," you sigh, "How do we take these off?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a crash course for most of the rest of the evening. It starts with a basic overview of the book and what it does before going into the various spells: how to make a mask, how to seal it, how to make a mind band, golems. Of the latter there's three types: ones made of graveyard dirt which unnerves you. There's one that involves the use of a live person and that one horrifies you and makes you wonder who, if anyone, they used for that. Then there's the one they showed you up in the loft involving a special solution inside a mask.<br/>
<br/>
The whole time you're in character staring in wide-eyed wonder and "oohing" and "aahing" over it all. Carson definitely was having a hard time of it because "small interest in magic" is putting it mildly. Kristy's completely fascinated by it. It didn't take you long to get into her mind and Carson at least <i>was</i> right about her relationship with her grandfather. Her grandfather would tell her stories about all of the magical and paranormal stuff he had seen as a military researcher. Kristy's father would constantly shut it down; it was just his dad's weird sense of humor he'd say. But Kristy herself earnestly believed those stories and ate up his every word.<br/>
<br/>
Of course that kind of stuff isn't something you really talk about with other people, otherwise you end up like Morganna Hollis or someone like that, so she replaced it with athletics. But deep down she's always thought it was real and now that she, via you, is experiencing it she can't contain her excitement.<br/>
<br/>
"So that's about the point where we're at in all of this," says Frank once they finish explaining what they call the golem mask spell to you, "Any questions?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so like could we maybe... I dunno, take the book with us," you ask excitedly.<br/>
<br/>
Kristy's mind and personality are practically geeking out right now and you're actually having to fight to stop from just hugging the "brothers" in gratefulness. It's another disconcerting feeling; you're reluctance clashing with her acceptance. But then how reluctant are you really? You weren't happy with yourself before all this started and what they said about the right mindset and acceptance... is that why you're so easily falling into character whether it's Kristy or Victoria?<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of, you look over. You're not sure how Carson's fairing in there but he certainly looks a little less awkward than he did as Kristy. Was it the clash between hers and his views on magic that was making it that much harder for him? It's not like Victoria really cared or knew about any of this from what you remember. In fact she'd found it outright boring.<br/>
<br/>
"That you or the girl, Prescott," Joe says following a guffaw, "But no dice, I'm afraid. The book stays with us."<br/>
<br/>
You pout for a moment before a light bulb goes off. You head over to Kristy's backpack and pull out a notebook and a pencil. "Hey, can you give me the book for a minute," you ask much to the confusion of the other three.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott, what are you--" Victoria asks but you shush her.<br/>
<br/>
Once you have the book you look over the first page and begin taking notes. There is, of course, what the page tells you about the spell as well as the sigils involved in its creation. Swiftly, it just feels so natural and you're so engrossed that you don't notice the world around you, you've made notes and copied as best you could up to where you've just reached in the book.<br/>
<br/>
Joe lets out a whistle, "That's impressive, Prescott," he states as he looks them over, "They look spot on enough to be useful."<br/>
<br/>
"Well it... it wasn't hard," you say trying to sound humble, "I'd copied a little bit when I had the book and then with this girl's enthusiasm for the subject..."<br/>
<br/>
"That's good, though," Joe says as he continues appraising the notes, "Real good. I want to see if these can be used in fact."<br/>
<br/>
You eye him oddly but he walks to one of the rooms, emerging a few minutes later with some materials in a box.<br/>
<br/>
"Stuff to make a mask and a band," he says as he places it in front of you, "You seem to have a knack for all of this so I want to see just how much of a natural you are. Make a mask and a band tonight, you don't have to polish the mask but try to get the band on someone to make sure it works. Bring it all to someone tomorrow--Jelena probably since she seems like she's taken a real shine to you two--and we'll go from there."<br/>
<br/>
Both you and Victoria look surprised though it's you that speaks. "Do I have to," you ask nervously, "I mean I've never done any of this and..."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't <i>have</i> to," Joe shrugs, "But you prove you can do this by your own already and there'll be some big things coming your way, I promise."</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211111211
author_id: rugal
title: Dangerous Minds
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"This is a real shitty idea, Prescott. You know that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Victoria glares at you as the both of you stand in the driveway near your cars. You have the materials to make both the mask and the band as sitting in your passenger seat. "It's not like I chose to do it," you reply after a moment, more than a little guilt in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"You're right," Victoria shoots back with something approaching a bit of venom and you wonder if that's her or Carson, "That was the <i>real</i> Kristy Suffolk that made that decision."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like that," you whine, "It was one of those things. You know, when someone gives you a choice but it's not really a choice; like an order disguised as a suggestion. You think they really would've reacted well if I actually said I wasn't going to do it?"<br/>
<br/>
A dismissive "tsk" escapes from Victoria as she folds her arms. "You just keep telling yourself that, Prescott," she states rather flatly.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that supposed to mean," you ask in an irritated manner.<br/>
<br/>
"Look at how quickly you adapt to these things, Prescott," she replies, "They were talking about how it requires a certain mindset and all."<br/>
<br/>
"That was just them bullshitting," you say defensively.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. But I do know that you slip in and out of character in a way that's surprised the people who have been doing this the last... what? Month or thereabouts?"<br/>
<br/>
You look at her aghast, "Are you saying that I'm, like, <i>happy</i> this happened or something? That I <i>wanted</i> to steal Kristy's or Victoria's or anyone's lives?"<br/>
<br/>
She just shrugs, "I'm just saying that you seem to be pretty good at this for someone who came running scared to me about doppelgangers and shit." She then makes a move to open her car door. "Maybe it's like I said before we even put these fucking things on. If we had the book maybe we'd be doing the same thing. A book like that's tempting which probably means some high school dopes like us shouldn't be messing with it," she states, "Or people like Joe and Frank or Dane and Javits or whoever they really are."<br/>
<br/>
"But we're kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place here," you groan, "Those two guys... they were all 'leave this to us' and look where that got them. Do you believe even half the shit they said?"<br/>
<br/>
"After what I've seen with this book, why shouldn't I," Victoria states, "Actually on the off chance they weren't bullshitting us they said they were pals with that guy I contacted before, Reilly. If that's the case I should do what I should've done after Dane got those two and tell him what's up."<br/>
<br/>
"You think that's a good idea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck no," comes Victoria's blunt reply, "But it's like <i>you've</i> been saying, what choice have I got? Gotta do something right? Because it's not gonna sit right with me to help these guys do whatever they want."<br/>
<br/>
She then gets in and starts the car but does take the time to roll down the window and give you one piece of advice before she leaves: "Get a better excuse, by the way."<br/>
<br/>
Once she's gone you open the passenger side door and eye the materials in their little boxes before grabbing them. Maybe Carson's right and it's all just an excuse. You probably would've been doing this same stuff if you'd had the book: trying to bring down Gordon and the other assholes. Or impersonating Mansfield to get with Lisa. Or hell even being someone like Delacroix to score chicks... or even just being one of those chicks.<br/>
<br/>
It's a fine line, you guess, and if you were on the other side doing this stuff from the start and by choice it'd be thrilling and someone else would be the paranoid dork. But right now you don't feel like it is an excuse. You have no idea what these people will do to you for disobeying them. So with no choice, as you tell yourself, you grab the materials and head inside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You breathe hard as you look at what lays before you: one mostly completed mask that still needs polishing and one mind band. One almost ready to receive the appearance of a person, the other more than ready to receive their mind. Though it wasn't hard work, your copies had been more than adequate substitutes for the real pages, it was long and took up most of the evening and night and though you weren't disturbed there was a brief scare when the creation of the mask billowed out some smoke and a smell that you quickly got rid of with an open window and ceiling fan.<br/>
<br/>
You grab your phone and turn on the screen real quick: quarter after eleven, rounded up. Really, it's been <i>that</i> long? Well if anything killed you then you'd guess it was getting the right sigils carved onto the mind band. Actually carving them was a task and it's still left you just a little bit sweaty. With sweat comes thirst so you pocket the mind band, trudge out of your room and down the hall, past the room belonging to Logan and Lexi, Kristy's twin nine-year-old brother and sister, and into the kitchen for a glass of water which you quickly down.<br/>
<br/>
"You're up late," comes the voice of Tim Suffolk, Kristy's father, from the couch as the eleven o'clock news goes to commercial. He turns in your direction, "Finally come out of your room," he smiles.<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh, I know. It's just this dumb homework that Miers gave us," you groan referring to the infamously hard ass math teacher that Kristy has. "I didn't even realize how late it was until I finished so I did a little bit of stretching to help me sleep better. Then, you know, here I am."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, don't work yourself too hard, alright dear," he says as he turns back towards the television.<br/>
<br/>
"I won't, dad," you promise him.<br/>
<br/>
Though with his back turned an opportunity seems to present itself. Joe wanted the band on someone before came to school tomorrow; he didn't specify who. So very quietly you grip the mind band and pull it out of your pocket walking up to the couch. Now if you remember what Joe and your notes said, to use it you just...<br/>
<br/>
The band is placed on his forehead and instantly sinks causing him to pass out. A few moments pass before he comes too. You quickly snatch the band and head back to your room but not before hearing him say to himself that it's probably time he got to bed if he's already starting to fall asleep.<br/>
<br/>
Inside your room you look at the mind band and the letters that spell out "TIMOTHY DONALD SUFFOLK" on it and as much as you're loathe to admit it you can't help but feel a small swell of pride knowing that, completely on your own, you were able to successfully make two items from the book.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So you're gonna be able to do this, right," Jelena says to, to your surprise, Victoria as you enter the school paper room.<br/>
<br/>
Victoria, for her part, nods.<br/>
<br/>
"Good, because we really don't have time for any fuck ups," Yumi adds in a tone that is so completely unlike the Yumi you know, "Especially now."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I'll be fine. Get off my ass," Victoria states.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, Carson--" you start but you're ignored as she trudges past you and out of the room. You turn back towards Jelena and Yumi. "What was that about," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, just giving your friend a little motivational talk," Yumi says in another cold tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Carson's... still having trouble getting used to things," Jelena adds, "But he'll get there. Anyway, did you bring the stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Oh, uh, yeah," you say as you open your backpack and remove the unpolished mask and the mind band with the copy of Kristy's father to her.<br/>
<br/>
"Great," Jelena exclaims, "I'll be back. Gonna head over to the bathroom to make sure the band's up to snuff. A girl needs her privacy and such."<br/>
<br/>
That leaves you alone with Yumi for a few minutes. A few incredibly long, incredibly torturous minutes. Your attempts at making small talk are repeatedly shut down either by terse replies or no replies whatsoever. You've known Yumi for a long time and she's always been one of the nicer people you've been around so to see her act so frosty and bitchy unnerves you quite a bit. So much so that you're actually relieved when Jelena comes back.<br/>
<br/>
"So, uh, was it alright," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Jelena looks in your direction wide-eyed, "Yeah. Yes, it was... it definitely worked," she says as if she's seemingly trying to comprehend the most profound philosophical question ever posed. "I'm just... surprised. I don't think Joe actually expected you to be able to get it done like that. He probably just wanted to see if you'd even attempt it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! Well, uh, thanks I guess..."<br/>
<br/>
But she ignores you as she grabs Yumi by the arm. "Come on, we need to talk to Kim and Kendra and the others. The guys too, we'll have to call Joe and Frank."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, uh, what about me," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what we're going to talk about. Everyone's definitely going to want to hear about this," Jelena says as she walks out of the classroom. "We'll get back to you by the end of the day. Just... kind of go through the day as normal. Kristy normal, not you normal."</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221112
author_id: seuzz
title: Another Player Joins the Game
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Come on, you know you wanna go with," Joe says. You look at Carson, but he's got his arms folded truculently, so you also shake your head. "Don't you wanna be there when we pull the mask off him?" Joe wheedles. "I'll even let you say 'Jinkies' when it does." He claps his hands to his cheeks. "Jinkies, it was Old Man Withers all along!"<br/>
<br/>
Frank grabs his brother by the ear and hauls him to his feet. "Then you two stay here and don't touch anything," he tells you and Carson. "I don't know how long we'll be gone."<br/>
<br/>
"And what if you don't come back," Carson asks. His tone is lightly insolent.<br/>
<br/>
"Then run far and run fast," Frank says. You'd snicker, but he looks totally serious as he says it.<br/>
<br/>
"And if you get bored, I got some homework on the dining room table you can do for me," Joe adds as he follows Frank out. "Feel free to fuck it up, too. It's not like I care." The door slams behind them.<br/>
<br/>
You glance at Carson, but he glowers at the far wall without saying anything. From outside comes the growl of a truck motor, and after it has faded down the street, Carson leaps to his feet and peers through the front curtains. Then he whips out his cell phone. His tone is clipped and brusque as he calls for a cab to the house. "You coming?" he asks after he's hung up.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you doing?" you cry, finally finding your voice. "Those guys said to stay here—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, like I'm gonna do what <i>they</i> say."<br/>
<br/>
"And the bad guys are out there! Survey says they're looking for us at our houses right now!"<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't going home," he says. "And you can stay here if you want. It might even be a good idea," he adds to himself in an undertone.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about doing?" A sudden realization comes to you. "Jesus! You're running away!"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a fucking idiot. I'm going to see someone."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" And as soon as the word is out of your mouth you feel your stomach plunge. You've been accepting Carson at face value up to now. But what if he's been replaced? What if he's going off to find his fellow doppelgangers?<br/>
<br/>
But Carson continues before the suspicion can take full hold of you. "That friend of theirs wasn't the only guy I found when I was searching the internet," he says. "There's also a professor at the university who might know something. I got his home address, and that's who I'm going to see."<br/>
<br/>
"You want to bring someone else in?" Your voice is almost a shriek.<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shit together."<br/>
<br/>
"But you don't even trust those other guys," you protest. "You wanna make it even <i>more</i> complicated?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's called checks and balances, Prescott. And that's if worst comes to worst. The guy I'm going to see, he's just a professor. What's the worst he can do, lecture us to death? Blackie and Blondie aren't telling us anything, but this professor might be able to." He casts a piercing eye at you. "So are you coming?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure," you say, and rub an arm nervously. You're actually not keen on this plan of his, but feel like you need to keep an eye on him. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you'd admit that you would just feel safer in company.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You can't help but feel an air of foreboding as you look at the villa. If Carson feels the same as you, he doesn't show it. Instead, he just pushes open the wrought-iron gate and passes within the high stone walls that surround the house.<br/>
<br/>
You're on the outskirts of town, practically in the country, so that this villa has the surrounding landscape entirely to itself. It's two stories tall, with a flat, affectless front punctuated by windows that gaze blankly and indifferently back at you. Your sense of unease increases as you pass up the walk toward the porch: the grounds are entirely dead, despite the stone- and brick-lined flowerbeds. Well, there is <i>one</i> sign of life: a yew tree by the corner of the house. Behind it is a low shed built of stone. You do a double take at it, and shudder. It looks exactly like a mausoleum.<br/>
<br/>
You almost tug at Carson's shirt, but he's already on the porch. And now even he hesitates, for the doorbell sits inside the ravening mouth of a cast-iron wolf's head. Briefly, you and he exchange a glance. Then he firmly presses the bell. Whatever sound it makes inside is muted by the walls and heavy door.<br/>
<br/>
He presses it a second time before the door opens. Against all expectations, it does <i>not</i> creak in a sinister way on its hinges. From inside, there peers at you a middle-aged man.<br/>
<br/>
He is dressed in cheap slacks and a gray pullover sweater, which sticks out over an apple-like belly. He is a bald beneath a bad and rather greasy-looking comb over; a dark goatee and moustache enwreathe his mouth. "Yes, may I help you," he asks in a clipped tone.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him, then nudge Carson. "Go on, it was your idea."<br/>
<br/>
"Professor Blackwell?" Carson says, and the man doesn't respond. "Um, my name's Carson Ioeger, and this is Will Prescott, and we're, uh— Well, we're high school students, and we're doing a research project, and we were kind of hoping we could get some help from you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Use the internet," the professor says, and starts to close the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you know anything about doppelgangers?" Carson blurts out. You almost shit yourself at his forwardness.<br/>
<br/>
The door swings back open, and the professor stars back with open astonishment. "What did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
"I asked if you know anything about doppelgangers. Or, magic in general."<br/>
<br/>
A cold, hard light comes into Professor Blackwell's eye. "You lads play those table top games," he says in a heavy sneer.<br/>
<br/>
"No," Carson says. "Okay, this is a really weird question." He scratches his eye and shifts back and forth on his feet. "So Will and I, uh, we think we found this magic book, like an old grimoire, and we were doing research on it—"<br/>
<br/>
But at the word "grimoire" the professor had stiffened. "What kind of grimoire?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
Now Carson nudges you. "I don't want to tell him anything," you hiss at Carson. He hisses back at you. You redden under the professor's stare, and feeling very foolish take up the tale. "Uh, it was about this big." You fumble at the air with your hands. "The covers were leather, and it had these funky pictures in the front, with these faces—"<br/>
<br/>
"I notice that you are referring to it in the past tense," the professor says sharply. "Did you <i>do</i> something, something very foolish, with it?"<br/>
<br/>
You can only stammer, so Carson jumps in. "We got rid of it," he says. "But we think someone else has found it, and that they're using it to make—" But before he gets any further the professor throws the door open and pulls you inside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He leads you deep into the house, to a plushly appointed living room, and puts you and Carson onto a sofa, while he pulls up close on a chair. He offers you no refreshments, but immediately comes to the point. "Tell me <i>all</i>," he says.<br/>
<br/>
This is not what you were expecting—frankly, you were expecting to have a door slammed in your face—and you don't much the intense interest this fat man is showing. But you do relate your story, starting with your trip to Arnholm's Used Bookstore and what you found there, and proceeding through your decision to drop it into the time capsule, and its disappearance from said capsule. Lamely, you try to explain your mounting suspicions about your classmates; Carson chimes in by describing what you overheard in the gym loft. It culminates with Carson taking out the mask that you'd stolen from Nurse Shaffer's office—and which you'd brought along on this trip—and showing it to the professor. But Carson waves you to silence before you can mention Joe and Frank.<br/>
<br/>
The professor is quiet for a very long time after you finish. He stares down into the mask. "Very interesting," he says when he finally speaks. <br/>
<br/>
"Do you believe us?" Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
The professor looks up at you from under his eyebrows. "I would pay it no heed at all, but for the description you gave of that book," he says. "I am an academic, not a magician," he continues. "But  'occult studies,' if I may invent a field of expertise, is one of my specialties, and in the literature one finds references to a book answering your description."<br/>
<br/>
"So it's a real thing," you say, and swallow.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, the book itself is quite real. You've held it in your own hands," the professor says with a chuckle. "Whether it can do the sorts of things that you suspect, well, that is certainly a quite different matter. To say the least, I am <i>skeptical.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Then why are you listening to us," Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Because the book, whatever else you may say about it, is an important antiquity," the professor says as though speaking to a child. "It would be a very important historical find. I would very much like to lay hands on it. For its antiquarian and historical value," he adds in a way that sounds very hasty.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know how to find it for you," Carson snaps. "That's not what <i>we're</i> worried about—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're quite excited, I see," Blackwell says, and his tone turns paternal in a very oily way. "I'm as certain as anything that there's nothing to fear. However, if you wish to spend the night here, I've plenty of room."<br/>
<br/>
This offer, needless to say, takes you by complete surprise, and you and Carson exchange startled glances. "Um," Carson stammers.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211122
author_id: seuzz
title: A Job Half-Done
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You hold Carson's eye, and he reads your thought in it. "That's really generous of you, Professor Blackwell," he says. "But that's okay. Like you say, we're just being really excited."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course," says the professor with a smile, but he sounds a trifle disappointed. "If you would like to wait here a bit, however—" He starts to rise.<br/>
<br/>
But Carson gets up too. "We really should go," he says, and you stand up too. "There's some people we need to meet."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?"<br/>
<br/>
"School work, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Even though they might be doppelgangers?" Blackwell's tone is faintly teasing.<br/>
<br/>
"As long as they've done the studying, who cares?" Carson retorts with a forced laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"A practical attitude, indeed. But might I have your contact information?" the professor asks. "Though I know very little about this matter off the top of my head, I have resources I can dip into. I assume you would be interested in learning more?" And when Carson nods, he follows it with another invitation: "Perhaps you'd like to stay here a few hours as I perform said research?"<br/>
<br/>
"We really have to go," Carson says, and a crimson streak wells up on Blackwell's forehead.<br/>
<br/>
"May I keep this item for a few days, at least," he asks, holding up the mask. "I assume that you wouldn't want it falling back into the, uh, hands of your doppelgangers, lest they put it to nefarious use."<br/>
<br/>
Frankly, you couldn't care less about Mansfield. But Carson plucks it firmly from the professor's grip. You give him some contact information, and he promises to be in touch. Then you're out the door before he can renew his invitation to stay the afternoon or even the night.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that was a waste," you mutter after Carson has called for another cab.<br/>
<br/>
"You only say that because you're an idiot," he replies.<br/>
<br/>
"So what good was it coming out here? He told us it's an old book. Big deal, we knew that already."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that fucker knows a hell of a lot more than he's letting on," Carson says. "I mean, fuck, he wanted us to spend the night."<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty creepy, yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Creepy has nothing to do with it. It means he <i>totally</i> believes this shit, enough to be worried about it."<br/>
<br/>
You swing around to gape at Carson. "Are you serious?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft, yeah! Pull your head outta your asshole, Prescott. Why else would he ask us to stay? Two dipshit teenagers knock on his door with a crazy-ass story, and he ends up offering to— Jesus! If you'd banged on my door a week ago with this story, I sure as fuck wouldn't have offered to let you spend the night, and I know you. Oh yeah, that guy's into this shit. I bet he's got a skinned goat nailed to a wall in a secret room in there." Carson glances over his shoulder at the villa.<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. "If you think that, how come we're--? We don't want someone like <i>that</i> getting ahold of the book!"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't want <i>anyone</i> getting the book, you dumbass. Well, except maybe for us. We might need to, before all this is over, you know," he continues, and fixes a meaningful glare on you. "We might need to hide."<br/>
<br/>
"And if he's gonna want the book too, we've really fucked up by telling him about it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, we'll be fine, as long as we don't lose our shit. So don't lose your shit. But at least we now got someone to throw at those two creeps we ran into this morning."<br/>
<br/>
"And what if Frank and Joe get the book away from the doppelgangers? They sound like they're going to."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh sure, like they got a chance of that. Eh, if they do, then we'll try getting it away from them. Or call Blackwell and tell them they've got it. I bet he's got all kinds of shit that can fix them good."<br/>
<br/>
"Fix us good too," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Just follow my lead," he says with airy confidence.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You worry about what Frank and Joe will say when you get back, but to your surprise you find their house empty, and no sign that they've been back and left again in the meantime. While waiting, you and Carson do some quick snooping. Your friend snickers hard over the fact that, although there are two bedrooms, only one of them—with its queen-size bed—appears slept in. "Yeah, right, they're 'brothers'," he chortles nastily, making air quotes around the word. "Well, if that's their story, let 'em have it." Otherwise, you just find a lot of dirty clothes, a mostly empty pantry and refrigerator, and lots and lots of books on lots and lots of weird topics.<br/>
<br/>
You and Carson are hunched over the dining room table, slurping down some ramen you stole from the kitchen, when the front door bursts open and Joe swaggers in with Frank in his wake. "We are the champions!" he sings, and brandishes a red-leather book over his head.<br/>
<br/>
You and Carson stare, then scramble to your feet. "What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"We won," Joe says. "Oh, hey, thanks for fixing dinner." He pushes you away from the table and drops into your chair to slurp at the ramen. "Not the victory feast I was looking for, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"Is it all over?" you ask. "Did you take care of the—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's not over, not by a long shot," Frank says. "But we got the most important thing, which is the <i>Libra</i>. We still have to roll up the conspiracy. That's gonna take some inside work." He's drops a cardboard box onto the table with a clatter. You swallow as you glance into it: it contains a small pile of masks, like the one you found in the nurse's office.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were meeting with Black," Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
"We did," Joe says, and noisily sucks down a wad of noodles. "Or, I did. That was <i>my</i> job, to try to get him to talk. Frank snuck around—a pretty funny thing, actually, since Frank's about as subtle as a—" He snaps his fingers. "As a thing that's totally not subtle. Anyway, he got up into that loft you guys were telling us about, and he got the <i>Libra</i> and some of the shit they had up there."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you find out from Gordon," you ask. "Did you find out who's doing it, who they are?"<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't find out anything," Frank says. "Which is pretty funny."<br/>
<br/>
Joe flips him off. "Not my fault," he says. "Something about those masks, I guess, it gets in the way."<br/>
<br/>
"In the way of doing what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got my tricks," Joe says. "I'm not in the mood to explain."<br/>
<br/>
"So what happens now?" Carson asks. He reaches for the book, but Joe pulls it from him.<br/>
<br/>
"We do some research," Frank says. "We need to get the masks off the imposters. If we can do that with even one of them, I'm sure we can get him to spill about the rest of the conspirators."<br/>
<br/>
"So that's my homework for tonight," Joe says, and opens the book. "We go through this thing and figure out how the masks work. You guys can hang loose." His eyes glint with mischief as he bends back over the book, to study the first page while spooning down the rest of the ramen. Frank pushes you and Carson into the living room, onto the sofa, and turns on the TV. He tosses the remote to you, and with a thin smile returns to the dining room.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Carson talk softly, even as the inarticulate words of the other two drift in from the next room. You are both indecisive about calling Blackwell, and finally decide not to. Carson furiously chews at his knuckles as you and he then lapse into silence and distractedly watch the TV.<br/>
<br/>
Night has well and truly fallen, and you're on the verge of going into the dining room to ask Frank and Joe whether you and Carson can return home for the night, when Frank comes in. He leans against the wall with a queer half-smile. "So," he says. "You guys wanna know what it's like to be someone's doppelganger?"<br/>
<br/>
"You figured out how to use the masks?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure!" Joe calls from the next room. "Piece o' cake! Which one of you wants to be me? Oh, fuck, both of you do. Frank, give 'em a coin to flip."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" you call.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you we need to roll up the conspiracy," Frank says. "But Joe and I go to Eastman. We need to get into Westside. Best way to do that is to go in by pretending to be you guys."<br/>
<br/>
Your stomach plunges so hard it bounces off the floor. "You mean you're going to <i>replace us?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"It'd just be temporary," Joe says, coming in to stand next to Frank. "See, we figure that the doppelgangers are still after you guys. You don't want that, right? So you two pull outta Westside, which keeps you safe. Meanwhile, the doppelgangers come for you, but they'll find me and Frank waiting for them instead." He waggles his eyebrows. "And then <i>we</i> grab <i>them!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you just call one of them out here?" you ask. "I thought that's what you were going to do anyway."<br/>
<br/>
But Carson punches you in the leg. "That sounds like an awesome plan," he says. "But what's this about being you guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," says Joe. "That's the other half. See, we're not totally sure how long it'll take to clean up Westside. You guys don't wanna go crazy sitting here while we're being you. So you can keep our place warm at Eastman by being us." He holds up two masks. "So now you get to fight over which one of you gets to be me!"<br/>
<br/>
"This is going to happen," Frank says when neither you nor Carson reply. "We've already made the masks of ourselves. We just need to make the masks of you guys now."</span></div></div>


