# chapters

path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111
author_id: seuzz
title: Team Exercises
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Despite his lip -- he spends the whole afternoon softly cursing you -- the Kirkham-golem is industrious at his job, and by 1:45 it has finished polishing both masks even as you are still working on the last brain band. You give it the grimoire and tell it to take it back to school and give it Braydon. The golem looks very amused -- until you call Braydon and have him talk to the golem directly. He's between classes, so he is able to directly order the golem back to school. The Kirkham-shaped thing leaves in a very bad humor.<br/>
<br/>
You sent it back with the <i>Libra</i> because that's the only way you can get the book back to Christian's while you finish the last brain band. As Braydon has gotten through with his Latin quiz, he now has time to skip out on school and take the grimoire back to Christian's before school is out. You tell him where the book had been hidden, but don't tell him anything else about what happened when you were up there.<br/>
<br/>
 But even with these time savings, you are still not finished when 3:30 comes and school lets out. You text a frantic <i>stall xtan!</i> to Braydon, which he manages to do, but it's still heart-stoppingly close. You've attached the last brain-band to the last mask with only five minutes to spare, and have just done cleaning up the loft when you hear a car outside.<br/>
<br/>
But to your surprise, it's neither Christian nor Braydon. It's Darrell Parson.<br/>
<br/>
He looks tired and contemptuous as he comes clonking down the stairs in his black boots. "How'd you get here so early," he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I skipped last period."<br/>
<br/>
"What, you couldn't wait?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just didn't want to go to class."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever." With a deep sigh, Darrell falls onto one of the desks and leans against a bookcase. "I'd'a come out here too if I knowed you were here."<br/>
<br/>
That's a shocking confession, considering the way he's been treating you since you joined the circle. And that makes you wonder why he's been treating you with such distaste.<br/>
<br/>
It's an odd thing, because of all the guys in Christian's circle, Darrell is the one who is most like you. He even looks a little like you. His hair is pale blonde, but thin and fine in texture, and rudely chopped into a careless cut that hangs over the top of his ears. His chin is covered in long whiskers. His eyes droop rather than squint, but they have the same hooded, "rodent peering from under cover" depth that you see when you look in the mirror, and he also has the same hunched, oddly angled shoulders stoop that you've caught yourself working. He even wears a cap like yours, though his is a camo-colored ball cap instead of the dirty white one you sport. He's dressed down in dirty blue jeans and a fleece jacket that's somewhere between forest green and dingy blue in color.<br/>
<br/>
He's noticed you looking at him. "Something wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Look, did I offend you or something when we went larping last weekend? You and me, when we went to find Braydon?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you, then shrugs. "No." He looks away.<br/>
<br/>
"Then why don't you like me?"<br/>
<br/>
He actually looks surprised. "I don't not like you, Will," he says. Then he shrugs. "Meh. I'm just not used to you." He pulls his legs up close and lays his head back against the bookcase. "That's the fucking point of this afternoon, apparently."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't Christian tell you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't talk to Christian. Braydon told me we were meeting up to go get some faces. Actually," you bluntly add, "no one told me you were coming."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm a last-minute addition." He picks at a scab on the back of his hand. "Christian's been reading inspirational posters again, I guess. Got this 'walk a mile in his shoes' bullshit going."<br/>
<br/>
That alarms you a little, and it alarms you more when Darrell lets his head fall to the side so he can look at you. "You and Braydon sure fucking bonded after a rocky first day, didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuuuuuuhhck. So you must have cream cheese and powdered sugar all inside of you, the way Braydon fell in love with you after he larped as you Monday. Was it only Monday?" Neither his expression nor his tone changes. "Or was it longer?"<br/>
<br/>
"We went back and forth."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't accuse you of avoiding the question. "Uh huh. Anyway, so Christian wants us to go larping as each other today, that way maybe I'll fall in love with you too after I'm wearing your skin. We're gonna get a couple of faces for the collection, but I'm gonna go as you and you're gonna go as me." He doesn't sneer those last words. He just says them in the same dull and disbelieving tone as he said everything else.<br/>
<br/>
You hurriedly review the career of things that would be inside your mask, to see if there would be anything compromising. Certainly nothing from before you joined Christian's gang -- at least, nothing that Braydon wouldn't have seen, so Darrell could see it too. Then there were the days that Braydon was wearing your mask at school -- <br/>
<br/>
Ugh. All that stuff that you downloaded into your skull last night. You feel yourself redden.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, uh, something you'll find out when you put my mask on," you stammer. "You're right, me and Braydon larped all this week. Up until yesterday. Gillian knew about it, of course, so her and Braydon, while he was in my mask, uh -- "<br/>
<br/>
Darrell waves a lazy hand. "She's done it with him while he was wearing my mask," he says, and sighs. "Bee eff dee. But thanks for coming clean, finally. Yeah, you had me going. Me and everyone else. Jesus."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing to be sorry about. I've tried to do it too."<br/>
<br/>
That seems to be all. But now you remember that you left your mask at home. Darrell waits in the basement while you make a quick trip back to your bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Christian and Braydon show up a few minutes after you get back. Braydon has his usual worried expression, but betrays no further anxiety. Christian seems slightly vexed. "What a fucking day," he mutters a couple of times. You don't ask him to explain.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, we got three new masks," he says as he pulls out the supplies, and you almost faint with relief when it hits you that you actually pulled it off. "I don't know how we're going to divide it. But Will, you and Darrell are going larping as each other. Who do you think you guys can get close to for a copy?" He resettles his glasses and fixes you both with a sharp glance.<br/>
<br/>
He's already got copies of Caleb and Keith, so that rules them out. "Tim Gerard," says Darrell while you're thinking. "Lee Reynolds, Andrew Harding, Charles Hartlein, Michael Hollister, Philip Fairfax. Uh, Andy Tackett, Karl Hennepin, Kevin Winkler, James Brewer, Christian Padilla -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Basically, anyone at school, you mean," you say sarcastically. Darrell gives you a brief, dirty glance.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, what about you?" Christian asks.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Carson Ioeger, Paul Davis, James Lamont. I'd be kind of busting in on anyone else."<br/>
<br/>
"You need more friends," Christian says bluntly. "Any of those guys you rattled off is okay, so you two can pick off of them."<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't you coming with us," you ask. <br/>
<br/>
"Braydon and I are gonna get a football player, see if we have better luck than you did yesterday. Who'd you try for?"<br/>
<br/>
You and Braydon exchange a panicked glance. <i>Shit!</i> You never cooked up a cover story!<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, full disclosure," Braydon says after Christian has started glancing between you. "We didn't even try. We got out here and got bogged down in a really long talk about Gillian."<br/>
<br/>
"Really." Christian doesn't sound surprised. "What did you decide about her?"<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't decide anything, okay?" you blurt out. "We're just okay with each other. Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," says Christian. "Well, there it is. We'll use Carstairs and Matthias's masks. You got a preference?"<br/>
<br/>
Braydon shrugs, then hesitates, then gets a very thoughtful look on his face. That expression of worry gets some real anxiety inside it. "I'll take Carstairs," he says at last.<br/>
<br/>
"Any reason?"<br/>
<br/>
"There gotta be one?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. It just seemed like you put a lot of thought into it."<br/>
<br/>
"Is there anything wrong with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, no. Alright guys, let's get changed."<br/>
<br/>
Everyone moves into a different corner. You have the impression that Braydon is trying to sidle up to you, but he gets called away by Christian when the latter can't find some clothes. Since you and Darrell are about the same size and build, you just put on each other's masks directly, intending to change afterward.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake to find yourself looking out through a pair of eyeholes from behind the memories and personality of Darrell Parson. Not that you've got the memories immediately before you yet -- you've not gone looking for them -- but you have the vivid impression of being inside a complete disguise, on both the inside and the outside. <br/>
<br/>
Maybe it's because your clothes suddenly feel very unfamiliar. You look over at the newly woken Will Prescott -- <br/>
<br/>
And it would be a shock to see yourself if you didn't have the week-long experience of looking at yourself while Braydon was being you.<br/>
<br/>
-- then sit up and start taking off some things and putting on others. It feels much more "right" once you've got the fleece jacket zipped up to your chin, and the camo cap pulled down low over your eyes. Then you settle back to watch "Prescott," who is pulling at his own clothes as though they're coated on the inside with taffy and he can't get comfortable.<br/>
<br/>
When the other two are ready, you all tramp up the stairs. "Who are you going to shoot for?" Christian asks you.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Friday Night Special
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You have no strong intuitions, though you have the impression that Darrell himself would lean toward the names he has rattled off. So you hesitate, and as you hesitate Darrell says, "Probably Hennepin and those guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool," says Christian. "It might be fun wearing their faces in a campaign, seeing how they'd handle Howie and his epic drudgery."<br/>
<br/>
A little shiver skitters from your left shoulder to your right shoulder. Christian is wearing Dane Matthias's mask, and it's very strange seeing Dane's sunny, vacant face distorted into Christian's characteristically sharp-eyed expression. His eyes narrow when he catches you looking at him, and that gives you another shiver as you look away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You take the wheel of Darrell's car and follow him back to your place, where he drops off your truck and tells your mom he's going out with friends. "Let's try Karl's place," your alter ego says as he hops into the passenger side of the car. "There's usually a couple of guys hanging out there."<br/>
<br/>
"It's gonna be funny having you along," you observe.<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you say that?" asks the kid who looks like Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," you reply, suddenly feeling tongue-tied. It just seemed a natural thing for Darrell Parson to say. You shift uneasily behind the wheel as you reflect, with the memories you are getting from the mask, that Parson doesn't see "Will Prescott" many places. <br/>
<br/>
And that says a lot about how limited your social life is, because Darrell Parson hangs out <i>everywhere.</i><br/>
<br/>
He spends a lot of time with Christian and his friends, but only when they're actually gaming, and even then he misses a lot of sessions. (It's one reason he always plays characters that are part zombie, or which at least have some invented excuse for going on magical auto-pilot, so that his presence isn't always required.) When he's not with them he'll be hanging out with the drama crowd, or the arts crowd, or the even the 4H crowd. (The jocks are about the only people he doesn't drop in on.) He's not a great talker, but he's almost never by himself. Even now, when you try to picture what it would be like, as Darrell, to sit alone at home or at the library or in a booth at IHOP, you get an anxious feeling.<br/>
<br/>
So in that case, maybe it won't seem funny if you -- Darrell Parson, that is -- show up in the company of Will Prescott. He'll just be a guy whose company was convenient, and who drifted along with you when you went to find someone else. It's Friday, after all, which is exactly the day that weird social clusters will be coalescing.<br/>
<br/>
There's one already coming together at Hennepin's when you arrive. He lives in the central-west part of town, where the houses are small and compact and old -- without being gentrified -- and there are already four cars out front when you add Darrell's to the mix. The front door is open despite the October chill, and you and your companion -- "Will Prescott," you will have to think of him this evening -- peer in through the screen door. You hear voices and laughter, then someone calls your name: "Darrell!"<br/>
<br/>
The short foyer opens out into a living room whose wooden floor is partly covered with a threadbare rug. Half a dozen kids your age sprawl over a sagging sofa, with some sprawling over others.<br/>
<br/>
You recognize all of them, even the ones you don't know well, thanks to Darrell's mask. You slap hands with Carlos Montoya and Michael Hollister; nod at Kevin Winkler and Tim Gerard and James Brewer; and smile at Emily Sparks and Rebecca Sykes. "Hey, sorry for busting in on you this way," you tell Hennepin.<br/>
<br/>
At six-foot-three, and with a bohemian bouffant of curly hair that makes him look even taller, Hennepin physically dominates the room, but he wears the relaxed expression of a guy at home with his friends, and at home hosting them. The soft gray sweatshirt, torn jeans, and sandals only emphasize his already casual tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Not like you have to call ahead," he replies. He looks over your shoulder. "Jesus, how'd you manage to bring <i>him?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Who, Will?" You glance back at the guy pretending to be you, who has perched on the arm of the sofa and is grinning crookedly down at Hollister. "He stopped by the comic shop when I was there, followed me out when I left. You don't mind, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I was just wondering. Hey Will!" Prescott turns at Hennepin's call. Karl raises his Coke in a kind of toast, and Will chucks his chin back. To you Karl says: "Marcos is bringing  in some pizzas later. You in for some of that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I got money. Marcos who? Rivera?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Marc and Hannah are coming too. We're all going to the Warehouse later." He doesn't have to invite you along for you to know that you're expected to join along if you want.<br/>
<br/>
You nod casually, and suppress your excitement. You've never been to Saratoga Falls' most dangerous high school hangout, and this sounds like an awesome way of getting in.<br/>
<br/>
"Getcha a pop," Karl is saying, "and I'll phone Marcos, tell him to pick up an extra pie. It's just Dominos, you know. Pepperoni all around."<br/>
<br/>
You duck into the kitchen, and are still rooting around in the fridge when Hollister comes in. After exchanging nods, you ask, "By the way, who's this 'Hannah' that's coming out?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's Hannah Westrick, right?" he says. "She's coming with Marc, so it's gotta be her."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that new girl." You snap your fingers as things fall into place. "She's coming with Marc? Are they going together?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah." Hollister grins and waggles his eyebrows. "Captains of the soccer team, tearing up the grass together."<br/>
<br/>
You stiffen in sexual sympathy, but cover it nonchalantly. "Is she a captain too?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're pretty oblivious there, aren't you? Yeah, she moved over from Eastman, and took over <i>our</i> girls' squad. Brewer can tell you about that drama."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, is he into her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not the way Marc is," Hollister sniggers. He turns as Montoya comes in. "Ain't that so?"<br/>
<br/>
"Righteous truth, bro," says Montoya and he rips open the refrigerator door. "What are we talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Marc and Hannah."<br/>
<br/>
"Ooohhhhhhh!" Montoya leans back and throws his arms out with a howl of delight. Hollister leaps at him, and they bump crotches. "They're comin' over, too. Everyone's gonna have their phones out for 'em."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" you ask as the two friends laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"No one gave you a link?" Montoya asks. "Fuck." He digs out his phone. "I wish I knew who posted it."<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna know who shot it," Hollister retorts gleefully. "Gotta be Charles who posted it. It was Brewer who told me about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, they get to hear about <i>all</i> the good stuff before anyone else," says Montoya as he taps at the screen of his phone. "Maybe it was Marc's sisters who shot it." <br/>
<br/>
"Gyah, no!" Hollister shudders as Montoya laughs again. Then he turns madly gleaming eyes on you. "You really haven't seen this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't think so. What's -- ?" Then Montoya thrusts his phone at you. You turn it sideways to expand the view.<br/>
<br/>
It's a video, apparently set on a six-second loop. The framing is bad, and it's shot through what looks like a bookcase. But the picture is clear enough. Hannah Westrick is sitting on top of a table, her head back and her eyes closed and her legs spread, sucking hard on a fingertip. Down below, head hidden under her skirt, is a figure with broad shoulders inside a sports jersey. Only Darrell's memories tell you who it must be, because he and not you know that the number on the back of the shirt belongs to Marc Garner, captain of the Westside boys' soccer team.<br/>
<br/>
You goggle as the clip completes, repeats, completes, and repeats again. "No fucking way," you softly gasp as the other two suppress their giggles. "Where were they doing this?"<br/>
<br/>
"City library." Hollister nudges Montoya. "Must have been only them and the Braille Reading Club up there that day!" Montoya's legs buckle and he sags to the floor with breathless laughter.<br/>
<br/>
"When were they doing this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dunno." Hollister wipes away a tear. "James showed it to me last week. It was probably fresh then."<br/>
<br/>
"And we know this is Marc?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, you can see his face in some of the other clips."<br/>
<br/>
You almost drop the phone. "There are more?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's like ten of them," Montoya says as he takes his cell back from you. "I'll send you the links."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't believe no one sent them to me yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, doesn't anyone love you?"<br/>
<br/>
Your retort is cut off by Will Prescott's entrance. "What's everyone so happy about in here?" You hate the way his voice whines and grates.<br/>
<br/>
"Go on, show him," you tell Montoya. He gives you a skeptical, querying look, but obliges. Prescott's jaw sags and his eyes bulge at the video, and he loses the power of speech, even after Montoya has taken his phone back. He doesn't recover it until someone calls Hollister back into the living room, and his friend follows.<br/>
<br/>
"So I'm tired of carrying this thing around like a dipshit," Prescott says quietly as he shrugs the backpack off his shoulders. "Which of these guys do you want? We shoulda taken those two while we were with them, but I didn't know what you thought."<br/>
<br/>
"Carlos and Michael? Nothing special about them, is there?"<br/>
<br/>
Will sidles up close. "We should get two of them at the same time," he says in a low voice. "Hit 'em and leave before they come around again."<br/>
<br/>
"Karl says we're going to the Warehouse later."<br/>
<br/>
"So? Wait, are you planning to go?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've never been, I want to -- "<br/>
<br/>
"So your folks are okay with you staying out all night?"<br/>
<br/>
It hadn't occurred to you, but there is that. Your dad would never stand for it. But maybe Parson can cover for you at home while you go as him?</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112
author_id: seuzz
title: Flirtations
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You would really like to go to the Warehouse. You've never been before. And Darrell has, so his memories give you something to yearn for. The music, the alcohol, the girls, the throbbing possibility of combing the three in a pulsating, electrically charged cauldron of friends, enemies, rivals and strangers.<br/>
<br/>
But the expression on his face -- your face, which Darrell is wearing -- punctures the reverie, and the hazy, fantastical air leaks out of it. Christian had you switch faces so you and he might start to develop a sense of camaraderie, and such camaraderie would <i>not</i> be served by your running off to a party scene while leaving him to resentfully surf the web in your bedroom. Your usual curfew, even on weekends, is usually eleven. You can do some other stuff with him until then, and it would be best if you then parted for the night into your regular homes without larping it up outside each other's presence.<br/>
<br/>
"You're right," you sigh. "Wanna grab someone now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Let's wait until they're ready to leave. Karl's already ordered an extra pizza and I put in money for it."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>My</i> money, right? I'll go throw in some of yours." You return to the living room, where you press a five into Hennepin's hand.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The pizzas show up around six-thirty, in the possession of Marcos Rivera, one of the school's soccer players. An all-hands dive on the pies leaves only four pieces to be scooped up when Marc Garner and Hannah Westrick arrive. Naturally you watch these two with interest.<br/>
<br/>
Marc is the captain of the soccer team, and is the brother of Eva and Jessica Garner, who are on the cheerleading squad. They are a set of triplets, and like his sisters Marc has a wide, placid face with eyes that light up brightly when he smiles, which is often. His blonde hair is cut short and spiky, and keeps its shape when Hannah runs her hands over it, which is often.<br/>
<br/>
Her own hair is very long, with lots of tight curls in it, and she's got it bunched up in a thick braid that runs down her back. She has a flat nose and prominent cheekbones, and her eyes have a slight slant. So there is something very leonine about her face. Partly it's a matter of that hair, which even when tied back seems to frame her face like a mane. It's also just something in her facial structure, which has the strength of a large, confident jungle cat. She's not very girlish, either, and sits cross-legged next to Marc, making him move toward her when he wants to nuzzle her, which is as often as she wants to run her hands over his hair.<br/>
<br/>
But she's sitting on the other side of the living room, so you don't get to hear her much, and you certainly don't get to talk to her. Instead, you are wedged in between Tim Gerard and Emily Sparks.<br/>
<br/>
Tim is one of the "creative" guys at school, like Hennepin and Winkler. His specialty, you've heard, is "short shorts," little micro-stories only a few hundred words long. How you can work up any kind of story in only a page you've no idea. Gerard himself is very small, as small as a freshman, practically. He's small-boned, too. His reddish-brown hair is cut short on the back and sides, but tapers out long in the front, and he blinks at the world with intelligent, coal-dark eyes under black eyebrows. Something about the thick, black wristband and the colorful choker about his neck reminds you of Braydon's quasi-occult style.<br/>
<br/>
Emily is cut from a similarly bohemian stock, and as you refresh Darrell's own memories with her current presence, you find yourself wishing that you hung out with her more. Her face is cherubic without being fat, maybe because she offsets it with black-rimmed glasses that would be harsh if they in turn weren't softened by her large eyes and kewpie mouth. Mousy brown tresses and bangs hang from under a green knit cap, and she wears a tie-dyed shirt, torn jeans, and flip-flops. She asks if you've worked any more on that novel.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh -- Oh, right! No." The "novel" in question -- Darrell's novel -- exists only as twenty words scrawled on a sheet of paper that has been moldering in a landfill since last May, at least. Darrell told her at a party in April that he was ambitious to write a novel (he wasn't) and then made a stab at something when she asked him again a week later. "I kind of wrote myself into a corner," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"So punch a hole in the wall," says Tim.<br/>
<br/>
"Tim's my writing guru," Emily says as you blink stupidly at him. She presses her shoulder to yours. "We could work on something together, and he could give us a discount for his advice."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not your writing guru," says Gerard. "I just spout off when you ask me -- Oh." He seems to have caught something in her tone, and his eyes widen. "That's right. You guys could work together and I could give you a discount." He suppresses a smile, and looks away.<br/>
<br/>
Darrell -- <i>goddamn him</i> -- has sounder instincts for these things than you do, and his brain and cock instantly interpret the implications.<i>Jesus, Emily is flirting with me! I mean, she's flirting with Darrell. Fuck!</i> Your cock goes up, then down, then up again. "I'd have to start over again. What are <i>you</i> working on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of an autobiographical thing. About a girl in high school, what it's like to be a girl in high school."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? Is it a romance?"<br/>
<br/>
Tim laughs. Emily's reply comes a fraction of a second too late for you to think she didn't hear him. "It's autobiographical," she says again. "Mostly it's about peer pressure, pressure to conform. School life, family life, church life. The guys in it are mostly, um -- " <br/>
<br/>
She breaks off as Tim leans around to peer at her closely. "Mostly jerks," she says. Tim snickers, and withdraws.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh," you say. "Am <i>I</i> in it? If it's autobiographical?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Not yet. Do you want to be?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>If you turn it into a romance.</i> Fortunately, both you and Darrell have too much sense to say that. "Long as you don't write me like I'm a jerk. What do I got to do to not be a jerk?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not a jerk, Darrell," she says, and briefly brushes her face against your shoulder. A brief spasm of ecstasy almost knocks you out. "What about you? What's your novel about?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Girls. Girls and boobs.</i> "It's not serious, like yours. Just a fantasy thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" she sounds interested.<br/>
<br/>
"Just a novelization of a campaign some of my friends are running. You know, with Christian and them."<br/>
<br/>
"So, a Dungeons and Dragons thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, an RPG. We got our own system we kind of hashed together."<br/>
<br/>
"Really!" Now she definitely sounds interested, even excited. "Can I come watch sometime? Can I play? Do you let girls play?"<br/>
<br/>
Darrell's personality briefly takes over completely. <i>Hot fucking damn, I can have a girlfriend with me at the game same as fucking Braydon!</i> "Sure." The word comes out softly, not at all the squeal like you've got in your head. (You simultaneously hate and love the way Darrell's instincts easily keep him cool.) "We don't got any girls playing with us now, but that's probably because, uh -- " You don't want to say <i>We don't none of us got girlfriends.</i> "Gillian doesn't like to play."<br/>
<br/>
"Gillian Kiefer?" Emily's voice drops a couple of degrees in temperature.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. She and Braydon, you know. Braydon plays with us, and sometimes she shows up."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." And now all her interest has definitely leaked out.<br/>
<br/>
"I can call you next time we have a session."<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be nice," she says. But she doesn't sound very sincere.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So that's the talk with her and Tim. You talk with some others as people shift from one position to another, or leave the room and come back. Christian Padilla, Audrey Briscoe, and Rachel Bell show up a little later. A couple of hours pass. The floor gets cleared away, music is put on, people groove to it and sit to it and sit in each other's laps to it. They pass in and out of the house, to take cigarettes outside. Beer appears.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, a few start drifting out to make an early start for the Warehouse, or to take care of errands first. At around nine-thirty Karl starts closing things down and pushing people out. He asks you if you can take some people. You demur. "I have to take Will home," you say. "He can't stay out past eleven," you add, and despite it being Darrell's face, a blush creeps onto it. But Karl says nothing but "Can you round him up, drop him off, maybe come back?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably. Lemme go take care of him now."<br/>
<br/>
So you troop off looking for your alter ego, and find him coming in through a back door from outside. "Hey, you ready, let's get out of here," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's what I'm lookin' for you for. What about masks? Don't we have to -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
He pats the backpack, which you've just noticed him carrying. "Got 'em. No thanks to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Sorry, I was -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I saw what you were doing. Come on." He lopes for the door on long strides, and you feel an almost native dislike for him.<br/>
<br/>
He's also silent on the drive back, and only tells you it was copies of Tim Gerard and Marc Garner he got. You return to the clubhouse, deposit the masks, and return yourselves to normal.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're halfway home from the old school, walking in the dark, when you realize how you can get into the Warehouse. Get Chen out here, put your mask on the golem, and send it home in your stead.</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122
author_id: seuzz
title: How a Disaster Was Narrowly Avoided
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It seems like a good idea: Get robo-Chen out to the school basement, take the mask off the golem, put your mask onto it, and send it back to your house while you put on the Chen mask and go to the Warehouse for a Friday night party. It would probably be the safest way you could enter the Warehouse, too. You've heard it's a wild place, and sometimes a very dangerous place, but you're certain no one would fuck with Gary Chen there. Dude is one mean son of a bitch.<br/>
<br/>
But it's that very reputation that daunts you out of trying. You simply are not brave enough to try dealing with robo-Chen without someone else around -- and that would have to be Braydon -- as back up. Besides, you're halfway home already. You trudge the rest of the way feeling disappointed with yourself.<br/>
<br/>
By the time you get home you're too sick with self-loathing to do anything but go to bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake relatively late the next morning -- Saturday, finally -- to find a text on your phone. It came in at two in the morning, from Braydon: <i>call me asap.</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, if he was up that late, he's probably not awake yet, so you shower and breakfast and get your own energies going before texting him back with: <i>awake now, call me whenever</i>. To your astonishment, he calls you back within the minute. "Meet me at the clubhouse <i>now.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just get out here!"<br/>
<br/>
You tell your dad you have to run a quick errand, and sprint out the door.<br/>
<br/>
Braydon is pacing by the door to the elementary school basement when you pull up. He looks haggard and frightened. "About fucking time. Don't you check your messages?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was asleep! Jesus, I thought you'd be too, you sent that text at two in the morning!"<br/>
<br/>
"I slept out here, in my car, hoping I'd hear from you and you'd get out here!"<br/>
<br/>
You gawp at him. "What's the fucking deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"Get the door open, and I'll tell you!"<br/>
<br/>
You fumble the key into the lock, and Braydon almost knocks you headfirst downstairs as he rushes in. He throws himself at the desk where the masks are locked up, rattles the drawer, and yells a string of cuss words while kicking it.<br/>
<br/>
"It's locked, dude," you remind him. "Don't you have a key?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I don't have a key," he snarls back in a mimicking whine. "My key is to the lockbox inside."<br/>
<br/>
"So why are you -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I busted the lock when we came back last night, Christian and me, but I guess I didn't. Shit! That means we have to get -- " He blinks and mutters. "Howie. Or Hugh. Fuck, who has the key to the desk? One of them. Maybe Harrison."<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you need inside it?"<br/>
<br/>
He turns a despairing face on you, and grabs your shoulders. "Will. We are so fucked if anyone puts on that mask of Erik Carstairs. We are fucking <i>dead!"</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He babbles incoherently, but gradually he explains. It has to do with the memories inside it.<br/>
<br/>
He wore that mask when you and he assaulted David Kirkham and Gary Chen and turned them into golems. The memories of what you did will be inside that mask. Anyone who puts it on will get those memories. "Well, they will if they put it on long enough," he hedges. "Which they might. So we have to get rid of it."<br/>
<br/>
You sink into a broken chair. "Oh, fuck."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's how come I grabbed it yesterday, when me and Christian were figuring out who'd take what masks. I suddenly realized what was inside it." He clutches your shoulder. "How long were you and Darrell out yesterday? As each other?"<br/>
<br/>
"Until about ten."<br/>
<br/>
"And he didn't say anything to you? Nothing like, 'Holy shit, you and Braydon killed David Kirkham and Gary Chen'?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! How could he know? I mean -- Shit!" Panic seizes you, then just as suddenly abates. "Wait. He couldn't know." You frantically try to trace out what masks have in play recently. "I was wearing your mask when we got Kirkham, and then I was wearing Kirkham's mask when we got Chen. He hasn't been into those masks. And the memories wouldn't be in my mask, because I was in someone else's. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you put your mask back on when we stopped larping? To get the memories from when I was playing you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sure. Those were, um -- " You swallow, and shiver deliciously at the memories of being naked with Gillian. "Nice." You shrug awkwardly.<br/>
<br/>
Braydon ignores your twitching. "Then you put your memories into it. All the memories that you picked up while you were playing me and what we did to Kirkham and Chen." He stabs you in the face with his pale index finger. "If you remember doing it while we were larping, then those memories are inside your mask!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus!" That sense of panic returns. "But Darrell didn't say anything to me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he wouldn't have got the memories yet, right? It takes a couple of hours for them to come, you know. After sleeping inside one, usually."<br/>
<br/>
That's not your experience. "Really? Because I was getting your memories right away, right after I put the mask on."<br/>
<br/>
Now it's Braydon's turn to stare. "No you weren't."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm pretty sure I was. And when I put Keith's mask on, I got his memories and personality right away."<br/>
<br/>
"You're shitting me. That wasn't you role-playing Keith at Balducci's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course it was. Because I had his memories and personality and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not what I mean by 'role playing'. Dude." His eyebrows work skeptically. "You're sure you're getting memories, like, instantly? How are you getting them so fast?"<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't that the way it's supposed to work?"<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head emphatically, and explains that it really puzzled the team at first when they made the brain bands, that they didn't seem to do anything. It was only after they had inhabited some of the masks overnight that they began to notice that memories would come. But usually when they put on the masks, they have to try imitating their role using their own impressions of that person. "Of course, a lot of times," he adds, "you can get away without any role playing at all. People just accept that you're that person because you look like them. No one thinks that maybe you're a fake." And when Braydon played Matthias to get a copy of you? "I was just doing a crazy stoner act."<br/>
<br/>
So that means that if you can keep people out of the mask of Erik Carstair or make sure they don't spend more than six to eight hours inside it, they won't realize what you and Braydon did while you were inside it. "At least we can keep people out of our own masks," he says. "That's house rules. We can just tell them 'no.' Might get awkward, though. It's a good thing Darrell didn't spend the night inside your mask."<br/>
<br/>
A hard shiver runs through you as you think of the narrow escape you had last night, when you almost swapped for the night with Darrell, and you hurriedly change the subject. "So what did you and Christian wind up doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, just hung out with different people. Stoners, mostly, because we didn't want to take a chance on running into Erik with any of his friends. Finally realized we could probably score a copy of someone at the Warehouse without it looking weird, but Erik and his friends are usually there, so we came back and I changed into another mask." He snorts. "Brent Pruitt, who never goes out there, probably. No, I'm sure of it, 'cos Christian had to beg to get me in past the goons out front. And yeah, Erik was there. Anyway we got a copy of some kid named Michael Alvarez. He was passed out in a corner, so I got up close and put a mask on him. You and Darrell did better, we noticed when we got back here this morning. Marc's a really sweet score."<br/>
<br/>
"How was the Warehouse?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was fun. Always is. Christian was popular, 'cos Dane's always popular." The adrenaline rush is coming off him, it looks like, for he yawns deeply and rubs his eyes. "Fuck, I feel wasted. Didn't get much sleep. We need to get Howie or someone out here who has a key to the desk."<br/>
<br/>
"What'll we tell them?"<br/>
<br/>
"That the three of us are going larping. You or me'll take Erik's mask out and, uh -- " He blinks stupidly. His mental machinery is clearly beginning to slow down.<br/>
<br/>
But it's a hard problem. You can't exactly "lose" Erik's mask.<br/>
<br/>
Then the answer comes to you. "We'll make a new mask of Erik. He won't have any memories of seeing Kirkham and Chen, so we'll get a new mask of him, replace the old one with it."<br/>
<br/>
"That means we have to make a new mask," Braydon points out.<br/>
<br/>
"So we get back into Christian's bedroom like we did before. Get the book out while distracting him, then return it before he misses it."<br/>
<br/>
"That's pretty fucking risky, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you think of another way?"<br/>
<br/>
Braydon slumps and folds his arms. He stares at the floor. He blinks heavily. Then he says, "We could get him to come out and make the new mask himself. Like we were going to do yesterday. Tell him we should make up a bunch of new masks. Then use one of them on Erik."<br/>
<br/>
That seems like a good idea, but when Braydon calls Christian, he finds that the chief RPGer is only lukewarm on the idea. "He says he wants to do a campaign, not work," he tells you while holding his hand over his cell.<br/>
<br/>
But that could work too. If Christian is playing in a campaign, then you could sneak in to his house to get the book.<br/>
<br/>
Braydon pre-empts your suggestion, though, by asking Christian: "We're running the games at that basement now, right? So what if we do both at the same time? The campaign and the masks?"<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Essential Braydon
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Braydon listens impatiently to Christian, grunting and making the the "jerk off" gesture. "Okay, then," he finally sighs. "What time do you want to meet? Fine, see you -- " He throws his cell to the side with a sigh. <br/>
<br/>
"Christian says he doesn't want to fight a campaign with a car buffer going in the background, and that we don't need any more masks right away. We're gonna try meeting at McDonalds at twelve-thirty for lunch, then bring it over here for the campaign. He'll call me back when he's got it set up with Howie and the other guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all you guys do? Role-playing?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like you and your friends have a lot of variety in your lives," Braydon says sharply.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, didn't mean it to sound like that."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. "It's okay. How about you come over to my place? I need to change, get a shower, but there's some stuff I want to show you."<br/>
<br/>
As he's pointed out, you don't have much of anything else to do, so you follow him back to his place.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spent four days playing the role of Braydon Delp, so his house and room aren't unfamiliar, though they feel different when you don't have his brain to look at them with. It's still a little shocking, though, when Braydon comes out of his bathroom after the shower with only a towel around him, and he drops it in the bedroom floor to show you his skinny ass as he turns to his dresser. You must have made a noise, because he casts a wry look over his shoulder. "It's nothing you haven't seen or touched before, Will."<br/>
<br/>
You turn beet red, both because it's true, and because it hits you hard that there's nothing under your clothes that he hasn't seen or touched. Hell, he even got the most intimate of your parts inside the most intimate parts of his girlfriend!<br/>
<br/>
When he's dressed he kicks his chair out and falls into it, slouching back with his feet on the bed next to your hips. He reaches over to brush his fingers along the bookshelf. "What do you think of my shit?" he softly asks.<br/>
<br/>
"It's interesting."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Thanks for doing a little work with it while you were here. I finished getting the Divine Letters into my notebook, by the way."<br/>
<br/>
You nod vacantly, then freeze. You'd completely forgotten about that weird business, when you tried copying those scripts into a notebook, and one of them kept vanishing. when one of the scripts wouldn't copy into his notebook. <br/>
<br/>
Braydon turns to gaze at his bookshelf. "You know, I always believed that this stuff was real. I just felt it, all while I was growing up. This feeling that the world was filled with weird forces. You know I felt that, right?" He turns back to you, his large eyes pulled down by a lack of sleep, and by a kind of mournfulness. "You were larping me long enough, you probably still remember some of the stuff I've done, how long I've been into it."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and shift again.<br/>
<br/>
"There was one time -- Do you remember? I know the memories fade pretty fast after you're outside a mask, so maybe you don't. But when I was thirteen I had my first, uh, wet dream. It woke me up, I was all messy. I knew what it was, I'd read and heard all about it, but it still freaked me out. But I saved it, squeezed it out into a little glass jar I had, because -- " <br/>
<br/>
He sits up, and his gaze goes distant as he stares past you at his bedroom wall. "It was such an incredible feeling I had when it happened. You know what it's like. And I don't mean jerking off."<br/>
<br/>
You stretch out so you can hide at least half your face in his pillow while listening to this. <br/>
<br/>
"Jerking off, or oral sex, or even penetration," he says, and it's very clinical the way he's talking. "That's something you're doing, intentionally. You're plowing and inseminating, and it's you doing it and you're doing it on purpose. But a wet dream -- " He puts his head back and closes his eyes. "It's like you're the tool. You're not in control. A force greater than you has put itself into you, and is pushing through you. It's lifting you up, like you're riding a hot, spewing geyser, but it's jamming itself through you at the same time, and then it's pushing itself out the other side. It's using <i>you</i> to inseminate something else with itself." He draws a deep breath, and exhales raggedly. <br/>
<br/>
"I love that," he continues when you don't say anything. "I had that feeling the first time it happened to me, and I saved my, uh, my cum, because I had this powerful intuition that the stuff was special. That it wasn't even mine, in some sense. I save it all now, when that happens. I save all of my cum from my wet dreams."<br/>
<br/>
This is really creepy, and even as you try to humor him, you can't stop yourself from stepping in it. "You must have quite a collection of it by now."<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you from under his drooping lids. "Yes I do. You don't remember this? Well, it's been awhile since I've added to it," he says when you shake your head. "Ever since I met Gillian. What with one thing and another, I never build up enough tension to have a night blast. But I'm telling you this because -- " He scratches his nose. "Even though I believe in this stuff, and I've been trying to learn it, I've never had any success. Nothing's ever felt like it worked. Not even this." He twists the ring on his index finger. "Not until Christian got that grimoire. I'm trying not to be a jerk about it, you know," he adds with a grimace. "I don't want to be a jealous asshole, that he gets to have a real book of magic and I don't, when I'm the one into this stuff and he isn't. It's enough for me, right now, that I get to be close to it, to touch it. Anyway, I don't want to scare anyone, I don't want to scare Christian and Howie and them. They know I like this stuff, and I know they think I'm pretty fucking sincere. But I don't want them to think that I'd <i>do</i> anything with it."<br/>
<br/>
You're about cautiously ask if he would "do" anything with it. Then you recall that he has "done" something with it. He "did" something with David Kirkham.<br/>
<br/>
And so have you, with Gary Chen.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe he knows what you're thinking. Or maybe he's just fallen onto a parallel track. "I really feel like we're sympatico on these things, Will," he says quietly. "I know you're not seriously into this stuff the way I am. But I have that same feeling like I get when something powerful is close to me. Uh -- " Now, finally, he changes color, a little bit. "I don't want you to think I'm coming onto you or anything, I'm just telling you what it's like. But it's the same kind of feeling, like a vibration, after I've had a wet dream. It's a feeling like something big has just moved past me. Like I'm in a boat, and there's a swell in the ocean, and I know that a whale has just gone past."<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, man," you mutter. "It sounds kind of flattering."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what it is," he sighs. "Probably my imagination. Probably a hangover from Thursday, after we took care of Kirkham and Chen. Anyway, I really mean it when I say I want us to be sympatico. Like, more than friends." His throat quivers. "More even than what's between me and Gillian."<br/>
<br/>
He blinks, and you realize he's on the verge of tears.<br/>
<br/>
Well, whether you reciprocate these feelings or not, it's best to keep on this guy's good side, you deem. So when he sits up and leans forward and puts out his hand, you clasp it. "There's one more thing, to really bond us," he says in near whisper. "It's a rite I read about a long time ago, and I've been saving it. I wasn't sure I'd ever find someone to do it with. Would you be up for it?"<br/>
<br/>
You tense. "What is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's kind of an exchange of essence. And also kind of like a blood oath. You smear a little blood onto a bit of glass, and turn it into a charm. You and your friend do it, and then you exchange charms. That's like giving a little bit of yourself to him, and a little bit of him to you. We don't have to do it now," he adds when you hesitate. "Even if you don't believe in it, and I'm pretty sure you don't, it's kind of a big deal." A fervent look comes into his eyes. "Just let me show you how I feel, let me show you that we can be those kinds of friends. And -- " He shrugs awkwardly. "If you could keep showing me that you're that kind of friend too. Like you were Thursday. And think about it in the meantime. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
Well, of course you can <i>think</i> about it. You can think about anything, so you agree.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Christian has texted while you were talking, saying that things are set up for the campaign. You will be able to get into his house, certainly long enough to grab the book. But Braydon has a sudden idea, and suggests you do more. Why don't you copy out the sigils that make masks? Then you won't have to keep stealing the book if there are ever any other troubles.</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Copy Makes Some Copies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Copying the sigils is the long-term smart play, it seems to you, so you agree to it. It won't be any more complicated than lifting the book long enough to make some new masks.<br/>
<br/>
The trick in either case is to figure out a way to get into Christian's house without exciting suspicion. That won't be a problem if his mom is out, but if she's home, what excuse can you give her for going up to Christian's bedroom? But Braydon hits on an idea.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The pre-arranged phone call comes a little after one, while you're parked down the street from Christian's house. You'd driven by it earlier, and saw to your chagrin that his mom's car was in the drive way.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Will, it's Braydon," your confederate says. "You out at your dad's work still?" He continues before you can answer. "Cool. If you're on your way back soon, can you stop by Christian's and pick up some miniatures in his bedroom and bring them by the clubhouse? It won't be a problem, will it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I can do that," you hurriedly reply. "I'm about to leave anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Most excellent. He says he can do it," Braydon says to his friends. "It would save us a trip and keep the game going." He tells you which items are wanted, and where they will be, and hangs up. You put the car in gear and pull up the block.<br/>
<br/>
The rest is cake. Christian's mom lets you in, and is happy to let you run upstairs. It's the work of a moment to get the miniatures from Christian's dresser, and the book from his desk, where it is laying open to the most recent spell -- the one you and Braydon used on Kirkham and Chen. Apparently Christian has been looking at it. You wonder if he's been tempted to try it.<br/>
<br/>
You're halfway back to the clubhouse when disaster strikes. Your phone rings, showing your dad's number. You jerk the wheel to the side and pull into a parking lot so you can answer. The message is short and awful: He tells you to come home to do some chores. "Can you give me awhile," you gasp as despair settles about your shoulders. "I'm in the middle of running an errand for a guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Be back in thirty minutes," he orders you gruffly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> That'll give you enough time to get the miniatures to the clubhouse, but your dad's chores will certainly take up the afternoon, meaning you won't have time to do anything with the grimoire.<br/>
<br/>
You're about to turn around to take the book back when you have another idea for handling it. You make another phone call -- a very argumentative phone call, it turns out, but you hold your ground, and the party on the other end surrenders at last -- then drive on to the old elementary school. "Yo, what do you need this stuff so bad for?" you call out as you bang the door to the basement open.<br/>
<br/>
Half a dozen faces turns toward you. "Braydon and his fucking choreography," Christian grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm telling you, it's not going to make a difference," Hugh says.<br/>
<br/>
"We want to be sure," says Braydon serenely. He nods at Howie, who's pulling his lip. "Don't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"The thief has to hit each pressure point without setting off the alarms," agrees the most anal of the players. "Saving throws should be enough -- "<br/>
<br/>
"But we don't have a thief good enough," Braydon says. "That's why the whole company has to cooperate, and we have to make sure -- " He jabs at a diagram spread on the desk they are awkwardly clustered around. "We have to make sure each person is in position, and is moving the right speed and in the right direction so the timing is correct."<br/>
<br/>
"Was this room even here before?" Hugh asks. "Or did you just make it up this morning?"<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't matter," says your partner, the dungeon master, sweetly. "It's here now. And you really want to see what's on the other side of that statue, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's only a vat of boiling acid, I'm sure," Christian says. "You're so fucking predictable, Braydon."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, here's your miniatures," you interrupt. "My dad called me and I have to go. Have fun storming the castle."<br/>
<br/>
"Rocks fall and you die, Prescott," Christian yells after you. "House rule! <i>No Princess Bride references!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've just started raking leaves in the back when your mom calls you in with news of a visitor. A very pissed-off Gary Chen is standing in the foyer. "You wanted to see me, you little -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, thanks for stopping by," you interrupt as your mom swings a surprised face toward your guest. "Mom, this is, uh, Gary. I've got some school work I need to give to him."<br/>
<br/>
"No you don't," Chen snarls.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, it's for someone else," you hurriedly add when your mom looks alarmed. "Come on," you tell the golem before it can gainsay you again. You run up the stairs. The golem drags its feet behind you.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know why I fucking listened to you," it mutters as it shuffles into your bedroom. "I could'a just pretended it wasn't you on the phone, or I didn't recognize your voice." Chen's pallor -- normally he's color of a dark, brown mustard -- makes him look ill, and there's a filminess over his eyes. You're pretty sure he's just furious beyond belief at feeling himself under the control of a little puke like you.<br/>
<br/>
Once the door is closed, you order it to lay on the bed. You strip the mask from its face. The effect is that of Gary Chen turning to stone, for of course his own petrified face is beneath the mask. You slap your own mask onto the golem, and hold your breath.<br/>
<br/>
Will Prescott's eyes pop open, and he sits up. You wonder if it will still have Chen's personality beneath it. That would prove really awkward. But he just blinks at you in confusion. "Oh. Hey, uh, boss," he says. He glances down at himself, and pulls the ski cap off his head, sending his hair flying. "Why am I done up like a gangbanger?"<br/>
<br/>
"Here, swap clothes me," you tell it. "Hurry." You're already tearing your shirt off, and nudge it with your foot to get it moving. Less than sixty seconds later, your double is turned out in the clothes you were wearing, and you're bundling Chen's clothes up into a wad. "Okay, it's Saturday afternoon," you tell your double, who is still looking confused. "You're doing chores. You were raking leaves when mom called you in. Go downstairs, tell her that your friend Gary is going to camp out in your bedroom doing some homework. Then go back to raking leaves. Do what Dad tells you and don't get in any trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I'll have a say in the matter," it grumbles. "What's going on? Who's Gary?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to know. Oh, hand me that book off the bed, too."<br/>
<br/>
"This thing?" it asks as it picks up the <i>Libra.</i> "Whoa, how'd we get thing out of Christian's place?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to know about that either. Get going."<br/>
<br/>
After it's gone, you lock the bedroom door and, with infinite loathing, pull the Gary Chen's boxers up around your crotch. After you've squeezed yourself into his socks, trousers, canvas shirt and jacket, you push his mask onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Fuckers,</i> you hiss to yourself. <i>The fucking use I could get out of this shit. What a fucking waste.</i> You glance at the original sigil, check it against the copy, and add a few more complicated curls. <i>You should all die in a fucking fire for being so fucking useless.</i><br/>
You can't help having these thoughts. They certainly aren't yours. They belong to Gary Chen as he looks at the grimoire and contemplates the masks and the golems and the <i>truly insane possibilities</i> that follow from having this kind of "tech." He -- and therefore you -- actually have an erection from thinking about how much money you could gouge out of people, and how you could fuck over so many people who deserve a hard fucking over.<br/>
<br/>
Starting with Will Prescott, continuing through Braydon Delp, Christian Knouse and their friends, and not ending with such fuckfaces as Steve Patterson, Marc Garner, Martin Gardinhire, and Charles Hartlein.<br/>
<br/>
And that's not even counting the possibilities associated with getting laid once you factor the golems into it.<br/>
<br/>
Are these fantasies tempting, especially the fantasy of copying the cheerleaders into masks, putting them successively onto a golem, and sampling their favors? You suppose that they are. You're sure you won't forget them once Chen's mask has come off you. But they're not your thoughts, particularly, and they babble along uselessly in the back of your head as you concentrate on getting the sigils copied.<br/>
<br/>
You're almost done with the last one when the handle of the door rattles, and there's a knock. With a suppressed oath, you open it. It's Robert, your little brother. His eyes widen as he looks at you. "You want something, you little twerp," you ask before you've even come up with what to say.<br/>
<br/>
His mouth falls open a little, and color comes into his cheeks. "My mom wants to know if you want to stay for dinner."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks, but no thanks. I got places to be, I'm just here long enough to finish this thing." You shut the door in his face.<br/>
<br/>
It raises a related but slightly different issue, though. Do you want to stay here to finish your chores when you're done, when you can take off early under Chen's face, maybe have a little fun? The matter doesn't come to a head, though, until you've finally rounded off that last sigil, stuffed the copies into your dresser, and gone down to the garage. A dirty-looking Will Prescott looks up from the boxes he's moving. "You have a minute?" you ask, and sidle up close. "How much longer are you going to be working?"<br/>
<br/>
He wipes his forehead. "Probably another hour or so. After this, Dad wants me to hose down the windows.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mm.</i> You need to get the grimoire back to Christian's. You could send the Chen golem to do it, but that might be a complicated mission if the house is empty and he needs to get in with the key.</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112
author_id: seuzz
title: Ideas Not Your Own
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's already late in the afternoon, and you can't risk any screw ups in getting the grimoire back to Christian's. You tell your doppelganger to keep his phone turned on and to call when he can leave the house. You also tell him that, if Braydon should call, to tell him to call you at Chen's number, which you give him. Then you retrieve the book from the bedroom, give your mom another "thank you" for the invite to dinner, and flash an incisor at Robert on your way out the door.<br/>
<br/>
You drive cautiously by Christian's house, and note that his mom's car is gone. You park Chen's Jeep, go to the front door, and ring the doorbell. No answer. After glancing around, you hustle to the side yard, hoist yourself over the wall, and throw yourself into the back. Two minutes later you've unlocked the back door, run the grimoire back up to Christian's bedroom, repositioned it on his desk to the open page, locked up again, returned the key, and vaulted the fence. You turn in time to see a girl coming out of the house next door. She's got a dog on a leash, and she's staring at you with astonishment and a little fear. "Hey," you call to her. "Nice day to parkour." You sprint back to the Jeep, swing over the hood, and practically rip the door off its hinges as you jump in. "Booyah," you congratulate yourself as you jam the key into the ignition and throw the gear into first. You grin at the girl, who is staring at you as she comes down the front walk, and blow her an insolent kiss.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck, man, you actually kinda like Chen's instincts.</i><br/>
<br/>
As you jackrabbit away from the curb, your eyes fall on her feet. She's wearing pink Converse sneakers.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Who's the hottie livin' next door to Christian?" you ask Braydon. You're camping in a back booth at Besandwitched, the occult-themed sandwich shop near the university campus, splitting a celebratory dinner. He called about twenty minutes after you got away from Christian's, to say that the game was finally breaking up, and since you haven't heard from your double yet, you're still in Chen's mask. It's gotta be an odd sight for anyone who knows Westside: Gary Chen and Braydon Delp hunching across a table and grabbing up fries together.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Some girl," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I know it's some girl. I fucking saw her, and I wanna fuck her. Who is she?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes pop. "Jesus, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"That was Chen talking. Chen Guangli. Call him 'Gary', and he'll fuck you over till you're just a little stain of puke on the sidewalk. But who's that slammin' hottie?" You start jogging your leg excitedly.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I don't know." He is looking more alarmed even than when he sat down. "If it's the girl I'm thinking of -- What does she look like?<br/>
<br/>
"Reddish hair hanging down past her elbows, round face. Great boobs and hips. A little thick around the middle, but that's just more to hold if your taste runs in that direction. She was showing calf when she came out, but nothing above the knee."<br/>
<br/>
"Then that's the girl. A next door neighbor. I think Christian says she goes to Agape."<br/>
<br/>
"The Christian academy?" You laugh once, very loudly, when he nods. "Are they friends, her and Christian? Like, they got a hole in the fence she can suck him off through?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know! What's this fascination with -- ?" His eyes widen. "Are you thinking about using Christian's mask to make a pass at her?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm thinking of using his mask to fuck her. Okay, that's something else that Chen said. Actually, Chen's got a lot to say, now that we got copies of those sigils."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon seemed curiously uninterested in anything about Gary Chen when he came in, maybe because he's still used to the idea that it's impossible to get inside a guy's head until several hours have passed. When he first showed up, he confirmed that you'd returned the book to Christian's, then given a lengthy blow by blow account of the gaming session and all the tricks he used -- or goaded Howie into using -- to stretch it out. When you couldn't stand it anymore, you'd interrupted with the rude questions about that girl.<br/>
<br/>
And now you're ready to give him some more insights onto the world courtesy of Gary Chen.<br/>
<br/>
You start by giving your experience from changing out the masks of Chen and yourself onto the golem. "There ain't nothin' left of Chen, man, except what's in this mask. That little -- Uh, my double, the golme of Will Prescott, he acted just like I did, didn't have anything of Chen inside him after I swapped masks. You know what this means, is that any mask we put on these things is going to act just the real people. Except they'll have to do what we tell them to do."<br/>
<br/>
"I know that," Braydon says impatiently. "So what?"<br/>
<br/>
"So what? Well, how about we get a mask of Christian's next door neighbor girl and put it on a golem. Or a mask of Molly Shaw or Emily Sparks or Jenny Ashton or -- Hell, get a mask of Cindy Vredenburg or Chelsea Cooper. You know, a fucking cheerleader. Put the mask on the golem and tell her to go down on us."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon's eyes pop. "Jesus! That's -- Uh -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Now that you've thought it, you can't unthink it, can you? Take 'em someplace quiet, maybe that basement, have some fun. Or get some money. Mug someone with a mask, lift a wallet with an ATM card in it, empty the account. Don't tell me you assholes -- I mean, don't tell me you and Christian and them haven't thought about it."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon looks furtive. "No one's talked about it. Thing is, it wouldn't work. It takes too long to get the memories for things like PIN numbers. You sure as hell couldn't get the mask on and get to the ATM machine and get the wallet back to the person before they woke up."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't hafta do that. Just smash and grab."<br/>
<br/>
"They'll report the card missing and change the PIN before you could remember the number."<br/>
<br/>
"Unless you're me." You grin. "Look at me, you fucking little puke of a warlock wannabe. I'm doing Chen and I've been doing him from the moment I woke up inside his mask. I just need the time to change my face and change my clothes and get to a fucking auto-teller."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon has turned green. "You're not -- I mean -- " He swallows thickly. "Would you really do that, Will?" he asks in a pained whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking Chen would. Me, I'm just telling you the possibilities. Like with the girls. Fuck." You lean forward until you're almost lying on the table. "Seriously," you say in a low voice much closer to your own. "I really don't know if I could do that. But I <i>want</i> to be able to."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your doppelganger calls at around six, but then it's called down to dinner, and after that it reports that Caleb and Keith want to meet up. With some trepidation, you let it carry the ball, preferring to spend the evening with Braydon. But then he gets a call from Gillian, and you let him split. That leaves you with nothing to do, since you don't want to return to Gary Chen's house. There are things there you'd like to avoid.<br/>
<br/>
You are not remotely tempted to step into his life. It's a frantic one, filled with schoolwork, afterschool employment three days a week, a wretchedly sick grandfather at home, and a dangerous sideline in selling weed. It's a big business, even, for Chen, as he has a monopoly on the stuff at Westside and supplies some major sources at the university and the country club as well. But though thousands of dollars are flowing through his fingers, it all goes toward expenses, including living expenses, leaving almost none for you to lift and use. But you didn't tell any of this to Braydon, and he didn't inquire.<br/>
<br/>
But you've a few dollars in Chen's pockets, so you go to the movies. You start with a dumb comedy, then when that turns out to be very bad you sneak into another auditorium to finish up with a dumb kids' movie. Irritable and unsatisfied, you text your double and tell him you want to meet him at the city library. So he leaves your friends, makes the rendezvous, and by ten o'clock you're back home, with a double set of memories of the afternoon: one set during which you copied sigils and talked to Braydon, and another of cleaning the yard and garage and talking to Caleb and Keith. Neither were a whole lot of fun.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're not able to connect with anyone the next day until after church, by which time you've heard that Darrell, Howie, and Hugh and Harrison Flake are already out larping in some of the masks. Unimaginative dumbasses that they are, they're at King Kong Komics. Braydon says he's spending the day with Gillian. Christian isn't answering his texts.<br/>
<br/>
But Darrell, much to your surprise, is willing to spend the afternoon larping with you. "You can have my mask if I can have yours," he says. "I won't get you into trouble," he continues, "but there's this girl up at the mall I want to talk to, and, uh -- Well, it'll be easier for me if I'm pretending to be someone else."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hmm. There's a potential dividend.</i> If he makes a good impression on the girl, maybe you can scoop up the reward after you switch back. <br/>
<br/>
Besides, you can think of a good use for Darrell's face. If he can meet up with a girl, so can you. And you know one girl who was trying to get real friendly with Parson. Maybe Parson will like you better if he learns this evening that Emily Sparks is pretty keen on him.</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121
author_id: seuzz
title: A Date and a Disaster
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Even though you like the idea of Darrell using your face to chat up a girl, you're also very mindful of Braydon's caution. If Darrell spends too much time inside your mask, he might start getting your memories, including memories of what you and Braydon did to Kirkham and Chen. <br/>
<br/>
So you tell him you can larp with him only until five o'clock, after which you'll have to switch back. Four hours shouldn't be nearly enough time for your brain to make an impression on his.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You meet Darrell at Nirdlinger's Department Store, which is more or less in the geographical center of town, and a convenient place to make a swap because you can duck into and out of the changing rooms. Your wardrobes for the day are pretty much identical to the ones you wore Friday, and you go loping out of Nirdlinger's on the balls of Parson's feet, your skinny legs inside of some jeans and your lanky torso inside a t-shirt that's enclosed inside his favorite fleece jacket you've got zipped up to your chin. At the door to his car you take off the camouflage-patterned cap and straighten out your flyaway hair before pulling it back down low. In the rearview mirror you pluck at some of the long hairs on your chin and lip, and say a "tch" over a couple of zits that have shown up on your cheek.<br/>
<br/>
Then you check the directory for Emily's address. It turns out it's not far, being real close to the nearby McDonald's.<br/>
<br/>
As you pull out of the parking lot and onto Harrison Boulevard, you're wondering who Darrell's going to go see while wearing your mask. He wouldn't tell you, and you think it must be someone he met just yesterday, because there's no clue inside his mask, which has all of his memories up through Friday, when he put it on to get the memories of who you saw and talked to while pretending to be him. At Nirdlinger's, you'd suggested that each of you recharge your masks with your most recent memories, but then he pointed out that you wouldn't be wearing the masks long enough to get the memories. You were careful not to correct him about your own weird ability to slide into memories and personalities, and just pretended it had slipped your mind.<br/>
<br/>
You stop at the McDonald's first, and get a shake, and while sipping sloppily at it text Emily, asking her what she's doing. Her text comes back almost instantly: <i>just watching videos.<br/>
<br/>
meet me at McD's?<br/>
<br/>
when?<br/>
<br/>
there now. bored.<br/>
<br/>
ok!</i><br/>
<br/>
Fifteen minutes later she comes in. She waves, but goes directly to the front. You slide out of the booth to join her, and risk giving her a loose, casual quasi-hug by clasping her briefly to your side. She returns it. Some small talk about shakes follows, and favorite flavors, and what she should get, and when she fumbles for some change you make up the difference from your own pocket. The clerk -- an unsmiling fat woman -- takes no notice of these puppyish flirtations. <br/>
<br/>
Back at the table you notice that her eyes are a hazel-green, and mention it. She smiles and shrugs broadly. "Can't help it."<br/>
<br/>
"You thought about getting lenses? Colored lenses? Colored contact lenses?" You hadn't noticed it so much on Friday, but driving a conversation with Darrell's brain is like driving a truck through a muddy road.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm," she says, cocking her head at almost a 60-degree angle to her shoulders. "I thought about it. But they're more of a pain than glasses, right? You're lucky you don't need any."<br/>
<br/>
"I kinda do." You squint. "Not bad enough to really need them, but kinda. I like your glasses, though. Can I see them?"<br/>
<br/>
"You must be blind if you can't see them from where you're sitting."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah ha ha," you laugh dryly, and put out your hand. She hands them over. Her round face is now even rounder. It's not fat, but her glasses really give her face a distinction it otherwise lacks. You put her glasses on, and the world wobbles hard. "Whoa."<br/>
<br/>
"You look good in them."<br/>
<br/>
"Too bad I can't see good." You return them to her. "What do you do when you're not watching videos or hanging out with guys? Oh, how was the Warehouse last night?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was great. There was a fight." She tells you about it. Something with some bruisers from Eastman. "The music kind of sucked, though. But who cares? Why didn't you go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Had to take Will Prescott home, then I didn't feel like going out again. I don't go out there that often. You?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe every other week. I like it when there's a girl band playing." You and she discuss the merits of several of the local bands. "So I listen to music, read, write. Oh yeah, we need get together to do some writing. That's what me and Kevin and Tim are going to do. Maybe Andy. We're going to have like a writing club, with set hours, where we have to actually sit down and be productive. You should come."<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna have any other girls out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." The temperature of her voice drops. "Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"To distract Kevin and Tim and maybe Andy. I don't want the competition." You suck hard on the straw while holding her eye steadily. <br/>
<br/>
Pink pleasure washes over her features. "You are a <i>flirt,</i> Darrell Parson," she says. Under the table she grabs one of your knees. You jerk away, but with a grin she chases it, and clasps one of your calves. "Come on, relax." She pulls your foot up into her lap and slides her hand up the leg of your jeans to squeeze and massage your calf.<br/>
<br/>
You lean back. "Tell you what. I'll join your writer's circle as long as you keep me unproductive by doing this."<br/>
<br/>
"But then I won't be productive."<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's go early. Get the unproductive stuff out of the way."<br/>
<br/>
"Stay late," she counters. "Be our reward for getting stuff done."<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna stay late with me wherever we wind up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm." She gives you a long, skeptical, but mischievous look. "Maybe I don't. Maybe you'll want to stay <i>really</i> late. Like, until the next morning."<br/>
<br/>
You laugh very dryly again, put your head back, suck a very long time on the straw until the milkshake makes a rude noise.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're only with Emily for ninety minutes, and then she gets a call and has to go back home. The afternoon didn't get any more physical than that kind of massaging, and the talk, though pleasant was very low key and touched only trivialities. But it feels like a really good start. And if you've judged Darrell Parsons correctly from your inside view, he'll be able to pick things up without trouble. He's a bit of a slug, but that low metabolism means he doesn't get hysterical around girls the way you and your friends too often do. You kind of wish you could walk around with a copy of his mind but without a copy of his body. Then you could have the same relaxed, low-maintenance way of talking to girls and getting into their confidence.<br/>
<br/>
And that gives you an idea, one that you want to bounce off of Christian. So you text him to see if he's become available. Now he does reply. <i>want 2cu. come over.</i><br/>
<br/>
You're not exactly thinking clearly -- Darrell's brain gets even stickier after an hour or so of flirting -- so other than a mild bit of anxiety you think nothing of the reply, and head over.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, come on up," he says from the stairway when you arrive. His whole demeanor is distracted and worried. "I'm glad you're available. Everyone else is out larping. Except Braydon." He makes the jerk off gesture. "Anyway, I don't really want to panic people."<br/>
<br/>
"Panic?" you ask as you follow him into the bedroom. He motions you to close the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, not panic, but -- " He throws himself into his chair, snatches up a die, rolls it about in his hand. "I meant to ask you yesterday, and I really want to talk to you now." He pushes up his glasses to rub an eye. "You spent that first day with Prescott, and you larped as him Friday night. What's your impression of him?"<br/>
<br/>
A cold fist plunges into your stomach. You didn't come out here intending to fool Christian into thinking that you're Darrell. You hadn't even really considered whether to come clean with him about who you were. You were just going to talk to him about making a brain band of another person without attaching it to a mask.<br/>
<br/>
Now, though, he's put you in a pinch by raising the subject of "Will Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
And he's not even giving you time to answer. "He was out here yesterday, you know, when he came by to pick up those miniatures Braydon wanted." Christian rolls his eyes again. "And when I get back, I find something really strange." He grabs something from under the pile on his desk. It's the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
"This is the last spell we did." He turns the page and points to the right-hand page. "This is the next spell, the one that we didn't want to do. You don't do the spell, then you can't turn the page. I was looking at it yesterday morning. Then <i>this</i> morning -- " He turns the page. "Suddenly, it can turn. How come?"<br/>
<br/>
Your gut freezes. So does your throat. Christian closes the book.<br/>
<br/>
"He was up here yesterday. He had time to take the book out and perform the spell, and to return it while we were gaming. I don't want to accuse him of anything. That's why I want to know what you think. Do you think he could have done something like that?"<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212
author_id: seuzz
title: Coming Clean with Christian
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You are sick to your stomach, and cover your face with your hands. Christian has caught you. You fight down the fear and the nausea, and struggle through a mind that feels like it's steeped in molasses.<br/>
<br/>
Christian gives you the time. He probably thinks you're trying to come up with an answer to his question.<br/>
<br/>
Your decision, when it comes, settles around two facts. First, even if you lie to Christian now, he'll discover your lie later. Second, Christian has accused only you. He hasn't said anything about Braydon. And after what's passed between you and Braydon, you'd be a real shit to drag him down too.<br/>
<br/>
You're much calmer when you raise your face to Christian's, but it's still very hard to talk. You gulp and take a couple of deep breaths.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, first of all, I didn't come over here to, um, pull anything, bro." You shake your head sharply. You're talking too much like Darrell would. "I wasn't trying to fool you. I had a question and you, uh, threw this at me before I could even start." Christian's eyes have sharpened, and his eyebrow pops up in puzzlement. "And then you kind of shocked me with what you said. Uh, me and Darrell, we went out larping as each other today. He's out pretending to be me, and I came over to talk to you about -- " You swallow. "Well, never mind that. Uh, Christian, it's me. Will." You feel your face burning.<br/>
<br/>
Now both Christian's eyebrows go up, and his mouth forms an "o." "Well," he says when he speaks. "This is pretty fucking awkward."<br/>
<br/>
You rub your palms on your jeans. "Yeah. I wasn't even thinking you might, uh, not know it was me. I just had a hot idea and I came over and -- Uh, but about the book." You bend over and breath deep, to keep from hyperventilating. "Yeah. You, uh, got me. I guess. Only it wasn't yesterday. It was Thursday. Yesterday I just came out and got the miniatures like Braydon asked. But Thursday I skipped out of school and snuck into your house and got the book. And yeah, I did that spell. The one with the -- " You swallow. "The person."<br/>
<br/>
Christian is very still. He's leaning awkwardly against his desk, elbow on its surface and supporting his head with his index finger. "So what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
Now comes the hard improvisation. "Me and Braydon were larping as each other all last week. It wasn't just Monday, it was all week, including Thursday. On account of on Monday I got in trouble as him, so I was paying the price. I got fucked up by Tanner Evans and his friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," Christian says as you swallow again.<br/>
<br/>
"And by Thursday it was getting worse. I got cornered by -- " Time for some ballet work. "By Gary Chen. And he wasn't just threatening me. Or Braydon, 'cos that's who he thought I was. He was threatening Gillian. Like ... " You lean forward to hiss word. "Like rape, basically? All bragging about how he was going to show her he was better than me, and make her his bitch."<br/>
<br/>
Disgust spreads over Christian's face. "It's just talk, Will. I mean, Jesus, guys like Chen probably would, but it's just -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know what happened to me. I don't want to blame Braydon, 'cos it was me and I was just wearing his mask. But I'd been larping as him for a couple of days, and I just went kind of nuts. I wanted to kill him, just because and also in case he tried doing what he -- Anyway." You have to take another couple of deep breaths. "I was thinking of that spell, and I didn't know what it would do, but it sounded bad, and I just thought that, you know, I can't actually <i>kill</i> him, or even hurt him, but maybe that spell would fuck him up in a way that I wouldn't get caught doing it to him. So I snuck out here and got the book and called Chen and challenged him to a fight."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, it was crazy and I did a bad thing -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Don't tell me you actually <i>beat</i> Chen in a fight!" Incredulity disfigures his face.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck you, Christian.</i> "No, but I got one of those masks we made, and I knocked him out with it, and that's how I got him down so I could use the spell on him. And -- Uh, does the spell, the back of the page, does it tell what it does?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes." Christian's face has turned grim again, and his answer is clipped.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's what it did to him. Made him into another of those golem things. It really freaked me out, 'cos I had totally no idea what it would do. And I put that mask on him, and then it was like he was back. That's why he was at school Friday." You shrug. "He's not missing, so it's like -- "<br/>
<br/>
You were going to say "No harm, no foul," but of course you've committed a huge harm.<br/>
<br/>
"And that's all?" Christian says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Isn't that enough? I snuck the book back in before you could miss it. Oh, and I made another mask to replace the one I used on Chen. But it didn't occur to me that it would unlock the page. I'm really sorry, Christian. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I was just out of control, and then I didn't want to get caught."<br/>
<br/>
Christian turns to look at a wall, and he takes a couple of deep breaths. "Well," he says at last. "We can't do anything about Chen, unless there's a cure deeper in the book. I guess we'll look." He presses his lips together. "But this golem you made, did you use your hair in it? Yours or Braydon's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mine. I took the mask off long enough to -- "<br/>
<br/>
"And you didn't do anything to the mask of Chen? Just sealed it up? Okay, then the first thing I want is you to call Chen and tell him to go out to the Acheson elementary school tonight, around seven. And after that -- " He visibly struggles. "Well, we'll talk."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm really sorry, Christian," you say again.<br/>
<br/>
And he repeats what he said. "We'll talk."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You call the Chen-golem, but it refuses to do anything you say, and you and Christian wind up driving to its house to confront it directly. It is very surly, but agrees to your "request." Then Christian asks you to switch back with Darrell, and you call and set up a meeting time and place. He's in a chipper mood when he sees you, and tells you he had a lot of fun and hopes that you did too, then asks you what's wrong. "Christian will tell you," is all that you say, leaving him mystified.<br/>
<br/>
You're amazed that Christian took it all as calmly as he did. But you're still sick with despair. You take your mask home with you, and you hurl it in a corner, then throw a pile of garbage over it. But you're not so ill that you fail your last duty. You call Braydon, and tell him of the afternoon's events.<br/>
<br/>
He's very quiet afterward, even after you've emphasized that you left him out of it entirely and took all the blame. He doesn't say anything for a very long time.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't believe how much I owe you, Will," he says when he finally speaks. "I don't think any of the other guys would have done that."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't want to see you get fucked too. You're friends with them, I'm not, it's okay if I -- " The words lodge in your throat. You were going to say "if I pay a price," but that raises the awful specter of what Christian plans to do about you. "If I get boned," you conclude lamely.<br/>
<br/>
"Christian says he wants us to meet at the clubhouse at eight o'clock," Braydon says. "I just got a text. Did you?"<br/>
<br/>
You check, and while you're checking it pops into your box: <i>meet @ clubhouse 7.30</i> You relay that to Braydon. "Jesus," he says. "Special meeting for you? That doesn't give you a lot of time."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, we turned two guys into statues. I don't think Christian would do that you, but after what we did -- Will, you really need to be careful when you meet him!"<br/>
<br/>
Fear a lot worse than you had before comes back. "Oh, Christ. What should I do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kirkham," Braydon says after a long pause. "I'll get Kirkham to meet you. Bring your mask and meet Kirkam, and switch with him. You can hide there, and send a fake you to meet Christian. In fact, you can stay hiding out as Kirkham until we're sure nothing will happen to you."<br/>
<br/>
"How long will that be?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, but it's better than a lot of other things, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wish there was someplace else to hide out at."<br/>
<br/>
"We can't get into the locker to get any of the other masks for you. Unless -- Hang on. You did get the sigils copied, right? So if I gave you the ingredients, you could make a new mask, couldn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Theoretically. I don't have time to go shopping <i>and</i> make the mask <i>and</i> copy someone, though."<br/>
<br/>
"I can get you the ingredients," Braydon says, "and we can meet somewhere so you can put your mask on the Kirkham robot."<br/>
<br/>
This all sounds horribly complicated, but there's no other way of protecting yourself, is there? So you agree to his proposal. You'll meet at the parking lot by South Creek Park at seven.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Braydon are on hand, but the Kirkham-golem hasn't arrived yet, when you get another idea. Braydon is skeptical, but he texts Christian. <i>me &amp; will seeing movie at 9. wanna go?</i> The reply comes almost instantly. <i>thanks no</i>.<br/>
<br/>
"Now he knows you expect to see me," you say. "Doesn't that mean I'll be okay?"<br/>
<br/>
Braydon argues strenuously that it doesn't matter. In the end --</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122
author_id: seuzz
title: For Your Sins
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You understand Braydon's worry -- really, you do -- but your gut tells you that things are not going to be that bad. You just can't see Christian Knouse doing something awful to you. You were a lot more terrified of Tanner Evans and David Kirkham than you are of Christian. Still, you're touched by the expression of deep worry that has engulfed Braydon's face, and if you still think he's slightly creepy, you're a lot more ready to regard him as a good -- though maybe not "best" -- friend.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you're still nervous when you park by the elementary school basement at 7:20. Christian isn't there yet, so that relieves you of the worry that you're walking into an ambush.<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting on the hood of your truck when his car pulls up. "Thanks for meeting like this," Christian says as he gets out. It's an awkward scene, so you only shrug.<br/>
<br/>
He starts off leaning against the hood of his car, but as he talks he starts to pace. "I, uh, I wanted to talk to you separate from the rest of the guys. I'm meeting them here in half an hour, but I wanted to talk to you first. On account of -- " He rubs his temple distractedly.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I don't want to pick you out especially, Will. It could've been anyone who -- who did what you did. Hell, even me. You were wearing Braydon's mask, and I'm not gonna fucking say anything against Braydon, but, you know -- " He shrugs again. "If I had to bet someone would get in trouble with that book and with the masks, I would'a bet on it being him. And I'm not trying to grease you up or anything, but you're just about the <i>last</i> guy in our bunch I'd'a thought would do something like that." He is very pale when he pauses. "That's why I wanted to talk to Darrell about whether you could do something like that. 'Cos I couldn't believe it."<br/>
<br/>
He shoves his hands in his back pockets and shifts from foot to foot. "And that's what makes this such an eye-opener, now that I think about it. Like, if <i>you</i> could do something like that, then any of us coulda done it, or something like it. It really makes me see how dangerous that book is."<br/>
<br/>
He takes a deep breath. "You know, it's something we all talked about, at first, how much trouble some of the bad guys could do with it. But this, uh, this thing shows that even a good guy -- Like, you're really a good guy, Will, one of the best," he says in a rush of sudden intensity. "Fuck," he says as if in sudden realization. "It's like one of Sauron's rings of fucking power, you know? It just twists everyone!"<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure where this is leading. It's very reassuring, but it also sounds like the kind of things someone says before dropping a huge hammer. So you keep silent and keep still.<br/>
<br/>
Christian is also quiet. When he resumes, it's with a deep breath and a declaration. "So, I'm gonna get rid of it. The book. Don't ask me how, because that's gonna be my secret. And we're gonna get rid of all the masks, except the ones we have of each other, so we won't be tempted to do anything to anyone else. It's just going to be larping as each other from now on."<br/>
<br/>
"That makes sense," you say neutrally.<br/>
<br/>
"And we're gonna set it up so that we send out alerts every time we do it, so we don't get any things like happened with you and me this afternoon. No more surprises."<br/>
<br/>
"This all seems pretty fair."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he says slowly. "But there's one more thing I'm gonna ask you to, uh, to do, Will." He digs at the ground with his toe, and you tense. "You can keep your mask, because you won't want anyone getting into it. But I'm gonna ask that you not go larping with anyone. What I mean is," he says as your heart jars the inside of your chest, "if anyone asks you to larp, that you turn 'em down. The way Gillian does. She knows all about this stuff, but she doesn't want to do it. I want you to tell the guys you've gotten tired of it and don't want to do it anymore."<br/>
<br/>
You feel your face burning as he looks back up at you. "Not to be harsh," he says. "You're totally welcome to hang out with us, campaign with us, everything. And I'm really trying to spare you every embarrassment. I'm not gonna tell any of the guys what happened, and why you're not larping anymore. But -- " He sucks briefly on his upper lip. "After what you did, you gotta pay a <i>tiny</i> price, don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
You're horribly insulted, but you see his point. And really, this is <i>so much fucking better</i> than what you and Braydon were worried about. Your penalty for stealing the grimoire, making masks without permission, and turning one of your classmates into an obedient golem is ... You don't get to larp with the guys any more?<br/>
<br/>
"That's really generous of you," you stammer. "Thanks. I'm -- Wow."<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Christian drawls. "I'm putting a lot of the blame for it on myself. And I don't know what else I could do with you."<br/>
<br/>
You don't tell him some of the ideas you and Braydon were having about what he could do with you.<br/>
<br/>
"Like I said," he continues. "I'm not telling the other guys about this. I told them I'm meeting with you early because you couldn't make our main meeting. So, when you see Braydon later, you'll know that's the story I told him."<br/>
<br/>
Your lips twitch slightly at the thought of you and Christian coordinating stories against Braydon.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, and one more thing," he adds, and rubs his eye behind his glasses. "I got rid of that golem you made."<br/>
<br/>
That sounds shocking. "You got rid of Gary Chen?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? No! Well, I got rid of that statue thing you made. I took his mask off of it and put it on the golem I made. So, he's not going to obey you anymore." He shrugs. "He's not going to obey <i>me,</i> as far as I'm concerned, because I'm not going to have anything to with him if I can help it."<br/>
<br/>
"But what did you do with the statue? That's the real Chen, you know. Is it in the basement?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Never mind what I did with it. I took it someplace where it won't be found. I don't know what else to do, until we maybe find a way to fix him." He kicks at the ground again.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, how are you going to fix him if you're going to get rid of the book?"<br/>
<br/>
Christian  jerks a little in surprise. "Oh. Well, I guess I'll get rid of it after I find a way of fixing him. Or maybe -- " He twists in place. "I dunno. Something."<br/>
<br/>
That pretty much ends things. With stiff expressions of mutual esteem, you part. Maybe for a good long time.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Braydon eyed your return warily, and to your amusement tried taking your face off. Patiently, you let him try, then you told him all about what Christian had said. "Try to look surprised when he tells you," you said. Then: "You better get going, actually."<br/>
<br/>
At the movie theater afterward, you jocularly try taking Braydon's face off in imitation of what he'd done to you. Then instead of going into the theater, you talk in his car. The meeting, he reports, went off as Christian said it would, with him giving the excuse that the book was making him nervous. Braydon also warns you that you might be unpopular. He heard a few muttered comments indicating that Hugh and Darrell, at least, were speculating that your absence had something to do with Christian's change of attitude.<br/>
<br/>
And that seems to be all. You go home, finish up some homework you'd been neglecting, and exchange some desultory texts with Caleb and Keith. It isn't until you are changing out your backpack for school that you find those sigils that you'd copied on Saturday.<br/>
<br/>
It's a complete set, up to and including the one that you and Braydon used to turn Kirkham and Chen into golems. In what might be an excess of conscience, you text Christian and confess that you have a copy of that one sigil that you used on Chen. <i>didnt want 2 mess the book up,</i> you explain.<br/>
<br/>
No reply comes before you go to bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Monday morning, and you're walking from the student parking lot toward the school building. Even before you reach it, you hear your named called. It's Christian.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, this is awkward.</i> You have all the copies of those sigils in your backpack, because you woke to a text from Braydon, asking you to bring them in so he could keep them. You're not sure you want to turn them over to him, but you've brought them anyway. And now Christian --<br/>
<br/>
"I got your text this morning, but forgot to reply," he says. "You copied that thing and used it?" He stares at you hard when you nod. "Then yeah," he says slowly, "I'd kind of like to have it, to get rid of it."<br/>
<br/>
You swing your pack off and zip it open. As you rifle through a thick stack of papers, you start to have second thoughts:<br/>
<br/>
You promised Braydon the full set. Maybe you should find a way to avoid giving Christian that one sigil.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe you should get rid of the sigils for good. Christian is right: It's a bad thing, and he was generous enough to let you off lightly for your sins.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe you could compromise. You could give Christian the sigil he's asking for, and pass the rest of them on to Braydon. The sigil that Christian is asking for is the only really bad one, and Braydon doesn't need it.</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223
author_id: seuzz
title: Aftershocks to the Adventures
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I can't find it," you tell Christian. "I got too much shit in my bag. Can I give it to you at lunch?" He arranges to stop by at the start of Gladstone's English class. "I'll have it out," you promise as you accompany him to the school. Conversation is a little stilted, but not unfriendly.<br/>
<br/>
After parting, you briefly consider skipping class to sit in the library and make another copy of the sigil, so that you can give Christian a copy and still pass one on to Braydon. But you decide to give Christian his due, and trudge unhappily off to Walberg's Sociology class.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I told the guys I was going to stop larping," Braydon says without lifting his eyes from the sigils. He peers at the top design closely. "I thought it would help you out."<br/>
<br/>
Gillian puts her arm through his and squeezes up closer to him. "I guess I'll miss aspects of it," she says. "But it's probably better this way."<br/>
<br/>
The three of you are sitting in Besandwitched -- for obvious reasons it's Braydon's favorite place to hang out when hungry -- and talking after school. You warned Braydon that you'd be bringing him everything except the one sigil you used on the two assholes. He didn't seem disappointed, and whatever disappointment he maybe felt has dissolved into fascination with the copies you handed over.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you read those things?" you ask. "Do they say anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I mean, I can't read them." Braydon still doesn't lift his eyes. "I don't know if they actually <i>say</i> anything, but they're different from each other. Sigil magic -- " He chews on the inside of his cheek. "I don't know it that well. I've used it a couple of times, but the sigils were really simple. Not like these." He turns the top sheet ninety degrees. "Are these exact copies?"<br/>
<br/>
"As close as I could get them," you shrug. You turn around to look for a waitress. Those sandwiches are taking forever.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, Christian tried making copies of the sigils," Braydon says. "I asked him today if he got rid of them along with the book. He told me he got rid of them a long time ago because they didn't work."<br/>
<br/>
"What, the copies?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right. The sigils in the book work fine. But at the start of all this, he didn't want to mess up the book, so he made copies to use when doing the spells. But they didn't work."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I guess we should hope these copies here don't work."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon looks up sharply. "Didn't you tell Christian you used a copy to do that one spell?"<br/>
<br/>
"You shouldn't have done that, Will," says Gillian. Her tone is reproachful, but her expression is still friendly, and you could almost think there was real affection in her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You're surprised she knows what you did to Chen and Kirkham -- until you catch Braydon holding your eye and shaking his head ever so slightly. That must mean he has told her only a little of what really happened. "Yeah, I know, I'm really sorry I did that," you tell her. To Braydon: "I didn't use any of the copies. I only told Christian that so he'd know why I had a copy to give back."<br/>
<br/>
"You shouldn't have told him you had a copy," says Braydon. "That would've been easiest. Now he'll wonder why your copy worked and his didn't."<br/>
<br/>
"It's probably because Will's got better penmanship than him," Gillian giggles. She snuggles even closer to Braydon.<br/>
<br/>
Braydon returns the papers to his bag as the waitress appears with your plates: a vegetarian salad for Braydon, a chef salad for Gillian, and a patty melt and fries for you. It's Braydon's treat, he told you before sitting down, but you'd ordered meat anyway.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I told the guys I wasn't going to larp anymore," Braydon says as he salts and peppers his salad. "I'm glad you're okay with it," he says, kissing Gillian on the top of her head, "but I was doing it for Will." He looks at you. "That way when you say you're not larping anymore, it won't look like it's something special to do with you."<br/>
<br/>
That's nice of him, you think, and your regard for him grows by a tiny bit more.<br/>
<br/>
Then he has to continue with, "Besides, I decided there were things inside the mask that I didn't want to risk sharing."<br/>
<br/>
He's talking about the memories of what you and he did to the assholes, but Gillian naturally takes it another way. "I don't know why. You shared almost everything with them before. I don't think there's <i>anything</i> we've done that you haven't shared."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon whitens a little, but covers it by kissing her again. "I guess I'm starting to get possessive of you."<br/>
<br/>
Gillian turns full on to stare at him, a slow, ardent smile crinkling up her face. When she can't stand it anymore, she darts in and bites him on the ear. That sets off a subdued scramble on their side of the table. You have to look away. Those pangs of jealousy have come back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The subject of larping returns near the end of the conversation -- which had gotten sucked into a discussion of comic book tropes -- as you're walking outside to the cars. You observe that life is going to go back to being as boring as it had been before. "You got one dividend on it all, didn't you," Gillian chirps.<br/>
<br/>
It embarrasses you greatly to have her so casually referencing your week-long stint as her boyfriend, and only grunt while blushing. Her mouth drops, and she shoves you. "I didn't mean <i>that,</i>" she says, crimsoning in her turn. "I meant from yesterday. From Darrell."<br/>
<br/>
You just give her a confused look.<br/>
<br/>
"He went larping as you, right?" she says. "That's how this whole disaster fell out, isn't it? You were larping as each other, and Christian caught you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sort of. But that's not a dividend," you snort.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, what happened when Darrell went out as you."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you mean." Yeah, you had some fun with Emily while pretending to be Darrell, but that's a dividend for him, isn't it?<br/>
<br/>
Gillian's mouth hangs open, and Braydon looks quizzical. "Didn't you like it?" she demands. "What he did as you?"<br/>
<br/>
That's when it hits you what she means. "Oh! Actually, I don't know what he did. The rest of the day was pretty shitty, and I was so sick of it I didn't ever get the memories out of the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Will! You idiot!" Gillian shoves you. "No wonder -- ! You need to go home, get the memories from the mask, and then call Bethany!"<br/>
<br/>
"Bethany who? Not Lewis."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes! She's probably really upset! You have her for English, right? And I bet you totally ignored her, didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart pitches high and pitches low. "Is that who Darrell hung out with?" you squeak. "Bethany?"<br/>
<br/>
Gillian wheels on her boyfriend. "You have English with him too! Why didn't you tell Will he needed to talk to her?"<br/>
<br/>
Now it's Braydon who looks panicked. "I wasn't thinking about it! I can't run Will's love life. Not unless I'm, you know -- "<br/>
<br/>
Gillian punches him. "You're the one Darrell told it to, and you told it to me! Why didn't you tell it to Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"I assumed he'd get it out of the mask!"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't ever assume anything, Braydon! I've told you -- !"<br/>
<br/>
"Guys don't get all up in each other's grill about who they're going to see!"<br/>
<br/>
You jump in. "Can you at least tell me what I'm going to find when I put it on?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Now</i> Gillian has to turn puckish. "Just a good time, I guess. A good time that you <i>totally failed to follow up on in class today!</i><br/>
<br/>
Maybe it's a good thing that you fucked up so badly with Christian. Larping can sure lead to life complications.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Will!" your mother calls from downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
Feet run up the stairs, and a fist tattoos the door. "Will, time to eat!" your brother shouts on the other side.<br/>
<br/>
"Be there in a minute," you shout back. The feet retreat.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes are pointing at the ceiling. So is your cock. Gingerly you adjust yourself, and wince as the throb threatens to quicken when you sit up. You grimace hard, get to your feet, and with the bent and shuffling gait of an old man go out the door.<br/>
<br/>
You are still engorged when you reach the table, but the immediate crisis has passed, and things settled down as you pass dishes around. But you're completely distracted, and your dad raps on the table to ask if anything is wrong. "Just thinking about school," you reply. "Homework problem." He raises an eyebrow. This is probably the first time you've ever claimed to be distracted at the table by homework.<br/>
<br/>
Of course not. You're distracted by the memory of Bethany Lewis.<br/>
<br/>
Darrell met her up at the mall, where she sits in a kiosk on Sundays and tries to sell sunglasses. He probably ruined her sales but made her day by acting as an impromptu model, strutting around with exaggerated gestures while showing off the lens work. At least two customers left quickly rather than deal with his antics, and some teenage girls who stopped by tried shutting him down with cutting remarks. "Oh, screw them, Will," Bethany said after they'd gone.<br/>
<br/>
That's not the part that had you erect, though. It was the memory of walking out with her when her shift was done, and accompanying her to her car. It was a cool day, and she had a warm plaid shirt over her top. It hid the hard, firm curves that she has picked up from swimming.<br/>
<br/>
But they couldn't hide the feel of those curves as you -- technically Darrell, but you remember it now -- casually put your arm around her, pulled her close, and bent down to kiss her on the mouth.<br/>
<br/>
And as she kissed you back.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212231
author_id: seuzz
title: Another Girl to Worry About
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Bethany Lewis isn't drop-dead gorgeous, but she is very cute. Seriously cute. She is small -- the top of her head would barely clear your chin, and you're not a tall guy -- and cuddlesome. Her swimming regimen (she's on the school swim team) means she is sculpted, but she likes to dress in warm and fuzzy things, so it's easy to imagine her snuggling warmly into your arms. She has a round face but her features are adorably elfin, with dark eyes and dark eyebrows that go up at the corners, so that her whole face smiles whenever she does, which is often. Butter-colored hair cascades past her shoulders almost to her elbows.<br/>
<br/>
She has a very friendly and approachable manner, and if you actually had the guts to approach her -- instead of assuming she's out of your league and prefers being macked on by the jocks -- you might have tried talking to her a long time ago.<br/>
<br/>
Turns out that Darrell has no such worries about talking to her with Will Prescott's face. Back in your bedroom you thrash on the bed, wondering if there were signals he noticed but that you -- <i>stupid, oblivious you</i> -- failed to notice.<br/>
<br/>
But it's too late now, right? You already made a total fool of yourself (unintentionally) by completely failing to follow up today in Gladstone's class. She sits on the other side of the classroom, it's true, but after what you did yesterday, when you -- technically, it was Darrell, but the memory burns your mouth and lips -- pulled her close all unbidden and kissed her. <i>And she kissed you back.</i><br/>
<br/>
You should forget all about her. You're already a dope as far as she's concerned. Don't make it worse by trying to get back to her. Just go on with your life as though it had nothing to do with you. Because it didn't.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Dude, I am in so much trouble," you announce when Caleb picks up. At one and the same time, it feels like forever since you've talked to him -- you spent all last week and the two bracketing weekends being Braydon or hanging with him and his friends -- and as though you've been suffocating in his presence, since Braydon stuck close to him and Keith all while he was playing <i>you.</i><br/>
<br/>
"You're always in trouble," Caleb replies, sounding distracted. "What did your dad catch you doing this time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. It's about a girl."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you're in trouble all right."<br/>
<br/>
You bolt upright. "What have you heard?"<br/>
<br/>
"I heard the name 'Will Prescott' and the noun 'girl'. Arithmetic did the rest."<br/>
<br/>
You throw out your arm and hurl a stiff middle finger toward his house. "Did you feel that? It was me flipping you off."<br/>
<br/>
"Will, I got homework, so if you're -- "<br/>
<br/>
"It's Bethany Lewis. I made a pass at her Sunday." You listen to the heavy breathing on the other end. "And today I blew her off."<br/>
<br/>
"Well," he says after a long pause. "Where's the trouble? Are you in trouble for making a pass at her? Or for -- Wait, dumb question. If you apologize for making a sloppy pass at her -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. She made a pass back."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure she did. Last night, just before you creamed your mattress at four in the morning."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm serious! I spent all Sunday with her at that Sunglasses Shack where she works, you know, having a great time, and after we left I, uh, -- " Caleb would never believe it. You only believe it because Darrell gave you the memory of <i>his</i> doing it. "I kissed her. And she didn't knee me in the groin."<br/>
<br/>
"And that counts as her making a pass back?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, she actually brought her tongue into it." You wipe your face, which is burning up.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott, either you're trying to sicken me, or you're trying to mindscrew me. Either way, I don't appreciate it."<br/>
<br/>
"The point is, asshole, I blew her off in Gladstone's class today! I don't know where my head was, but she's in there and I didn't say hi, and I didn't talk to her and I didn't even look at her! She's gonna think -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you definitely had your head up your ass."<br/>
<br/>
"I know! So what am I going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Talk to her tomorrow. Oh, Jesus. Forget I said that, I don't -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I can't talk to her tomorrow! It'll be too late!"<br/>
<br/>
"Will," he says with a sigh. "You really did have your head up your ass if you didn't notice that <i>she wasn't in class today.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
A numb feeling washes completely over you. "What did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
"You heard me. Jesus, where'd you get the idea to go macking on her if you're not interested in her? And if you <i>are</i> interested in her, why don't you scope her out every day in there? Fuck, Will," he exclaims. "I scope her out every day, and I'm not even that into her. <i>And she wasn't there today!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your gait, as you hobble toward the school Tuesday morning, is somewhere between the hop of a rabbit and the limp of an Igor. If the Easter Bunny had a wall-eyed, hunchbacked, half-crippled assistant, he'd probably walk like you're doing, with your right leg shooting out with nervous expectation, and your left leg dragging half-dead behind you.<br/>
<br/>
No, you didn't hurt yourself. You didn't sleep funny. You just can't figure out if you want to kick down every door in the school to find Bethany, or to run away and hide under the sink at home.<br/>
<br/>
A little discreet texting after you hung up with Caleb got you the news that Bethany was out all day Monday due to an illness of an unspecified nature. <i>Great, maybe I gave her herpes with that kiss and she died,</i> you speculate with extravagant, rueful horror. But it would have been Darrell who did that. If that happened. Which it didn't. <i>Well, probably it didn't happen.</i> Unless it was something worse.<br/>
<br/>
She has varsity swim practice first period, you learned as part of those careful queries. Her first real class is US History, with Mr. Santiago. The paralysis in your left leg grows worse the closer to the school building you get, until you actually start to draw some stares. So you stop, calm yourself, center, start again. Things go well at first, but gets worse, until by the time you reach the library you're gripping your leg with one hand to help pull it along behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You spend the time before first period, and then all of first period, bouncing back and forth between a decision to seek Bethany out at the start of second period, or to wait until fourth. Never mind the long lists of reasons you compose for each course of action; suffice it to say that you could probably write a term paper on each. You finally settle on peeking in on her in A wing, at least, and seeing what happens next. You dodge Caleb at the end of Walberg's class, and the fact that your leg now only tingles instead of numbs you take as a sign you've made a decision you're comfortable with.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know why Mr. Santiago's classroom is in A wing instead of B wing like the other sociology teachers. The puzzle gives you something to think about on the short walk over, even as your eyes rake the crowd of students that presses around you. Mostly you only see hair. Brown hair, black hair, blonde hair, red hair. Hair that floats free, hair shoved up under ball caps, hair that has been cut short. It's like a flotilla of Chia Heads floating on an ocean of bodies.<br/>
<br/>
Actually, it's like a piston has come loose in your brain and sent all your mental machinery flapping and banging about. <i>Really, dude: Chia heads?</i>If you even saw Bethany, you'd probably just start speaking in tongues at her. "Hazbaut vrit fliurtyn? Gwichperd hok'Blirzhtping!"<br/>
<br/>
If only the crowd would part and let you lay down on the floor. You are suddenly very tired.<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Santiago looms out of his doorway. You fall to the side, bounce off someone else, and come to rest against a locker. Your have lost all feeling everywhere on your body.<br/>
<br/>
At least you're facing the doorway and the far end of A wing. You should see her coming.<br/>
<br/>
And there she is. That butter-colored hair flashes between two other people, and then there's her face. She hasn't seen you, so she's smiling.<br/>
<br/>
Wait, did you just think that? <i>She hasn't seen me, and that's why she's smiling?</i> Dude, get a grip.<br/>
<br/>
And someone does get a grip on you, just as she does see you, and just as her face freezes and her eyes widen. Unfortunately, it's not yourself that's got a grip on you. It's someone else, and they've got you by the belt and the back of the neck. You come off your feet and are flailing forward, straight at Bethany. But she's far enough off that she can duck to the side before you reach her and batter straight into her. Other students aren't so lucky, and neither are the doors leading out of A wing. You take a handle to the ribs as your assailant slams you into the door.<br/>
<br/>
It says something about how scared you were of Bethany that you're actually a little relieved by this turn of events. It's been awhile since the Molester took an interest in you, and you're actually feeling quite happy at the way he -- or whoever -- has rescued you from your folly in approaching Bethany.<br/>
<br/>
Round the back of the music wing you go, and are hurled onto the ground. You turn over. It was Kirkham who grabbed you. "Suck on him and die," he snarls, and stalks off --<br/>
<br/>
-- leaving you alone with a bemused Braydon, who's sitting calmly with his back to the wall. "Hey, sorry about that," he says. "I only sent him to find you, not to -- Well. Here, let's do it quick." He hands you a mask. "Wanna put this on for me? It's only for a few minutes, until we figure out where Christian put your golem."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122311
author_id: seuzz
title: A Little Light Espionage
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"The fuck?" you gasp. It's all you can say or think. <br/>
<br/>
A minute ago, maybe less, you were inside A wing, nervously awaiting the arrival of Bethany Lewis at her classroom. Then you were being hustled along toward a doom that, though sure to be painful, was curiously preferable to the gulping horror of talking to a girl who on Sunday had kissed someone who looked like you. Now you're talking to Braydon, who is -- What is he asking of you?<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" you ask again.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, you don't want to miss class, do you?" he says. "Who do you have?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh -- Hawks? Film?" Everything baffles you at the moment.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, well if that's all."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"You keep saying that, but if you've got the time -- " Braydon looks around, sees you're alone, but leans over to talk in a low voice anyway.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you I wasn't going to larp anymore, but I changed my mind to do it one last time. I called Christian late last night and told him I wanted to larp as him today. He wasn't real interested, but I talked him around." He turns his body to hide it, then shows you the glowing blue mask he's got by his side. "So I came in as him today, and he came in as me. So don't talk to me today, okay?" <br/>
<br/>
"The fuck? I mean, if you want me to leave now, I will."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a smartass, you know what I mean. And don't tell Christian you caught on to us larping. Everyone else knows, but you have to pretend you don't know that him and me are larping as each other."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fucking Braydon, he's making no sense.</i> "Then why did you have me hauled out here to tell me you and him are larping?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shh! Keep quiet. It's because I wanted to get his mask to you. I want you to get into it."<br/>
<br/>
You rear back. "I can't do that! I'm not allowed to larp anymore!"<br/>
<br/>
Braydon frowns hard. "Aren't you listening? You're not larping, you're just spying, and it's just for a few minutes. Christian told us he dumped your golem and the masks and the book. He knows where he put them, though, and that data will be in his mask." He taps it. "So put it on so we can find out where he put your golem."<br/>
<br/>
"So why don't <i>you</i> get the data out if you're so interested? Why mix me up in it?" <br/>
<br/>
"You mean you're not -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on!" A thought has occurred to you. "The data can't be in there. Because why would Christian give you his mask if he knows you can get his memories out of it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will." Braydon's voice turns tired and pitying. "We've been over this before. We can swap masks safely as long as it's only for a couple of hours, because that's how long it takes for the memories to come. He and I are supposed to switch back at the end of school before I get his memories and he gets <i>mine,</i> which, you know, I don't want him to have. That's why I can't get into the mask to find out where he put your golem. But you can get into his mask's memories just like that." He snaps his fingers. "Right? So pop in, find out where he hid your golem, then pop out again."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll know I put it on!"<br/>
<br/>
"No he won't, not if you keep your eyes closed and are quick about it. He probably won't even notice the mask got switched around."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll know you took the mask off, he -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Will, stop arguing. Or tell me you don't want your golem back."<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and sigh. Do you want your golem back? What would be the point of having it? Except that it's yours, and there's something neat about having one, and maybe there is some kind of use to get out of it.<br/>
<br/>
But you cover these slightly covetous thoughts by grabbing the mask from Braydon with a snarl. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You open your eyes. Something is wrong.<br/>
<br/>
Then you remember what is wrong. Your eyes briefly widen, then you snap them shut again.<br/>
<br/>
Lips tickle your ear. "Shhhh!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>The golem. Think of the golem. Prescott's golem. Where did -- ?</i><br/>
<br/>
Ah! Braydon was right. You do get the memory fast.<br/>
<br/>
It's probably all busted to hell. Christian wasn't serious about finding a cure for what you did to Chen. But it's a safe place for it even if it's intact, though it wouldn't be safe place to dump the book --<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes snap open, and you snap them shut again. <i>The book!</i> You grind your teeth. <i>Liar!</i><br/>
<br/>
And you suck in a deep breath as you see something else, too.<br/>
<br/>
Hands close on your face. You grab them, and tense. You get it all fixed in your head. Then you relax again, and let go of those hands.<br/>
<br/>
Something tears, like a deep-rooted tree being ripped off your face, pulling your soul out with it ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You open your eyes. Something is wrong.<br/>
<br/>
Then you remember what is wrong. Your eyes briefly widen, then you snap them shut again.<br/>
<br/>
Then you open them again. It should be alright now. "Uh?" you say.<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, you can get up now."<br/>
<br/>
You sit up and turn toward Braydon. Only now, after he's told you about the larping, do you recognize that he is not wearing his usual ensemble of blacks and browns and forest greens. "Did you remember where it is?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You shake your head, which is still muddled. "The old quarry east of town. He had Chen -- his golem of Chen, I mean -- " You shake your head again. "The golem thing you guys made up in the wilderness. He had it take Chen out to that old quarry and dumped him there. There's probably nothing left, it'll be all smashed up at the bottom."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit. And I was hoping we could get it back for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, thanks. I don't know what we could do with it, though."<br/>
<br/>
The corner of Braydon's mouth goes up, and he starts to say something, but cuts himself off. "Oh well. It was just an idea."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, here's an idea. How about you get back in Christian's mask so he doesn't wonder why you had it off so long?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll wait 'til you go. Oh, what did he do with those masks? The ones of all the other people, like Carstairs?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, then decide there's no harm in telling him. "He packed them in a box and gave it to Chen, to that golem, and told him to hide it and guard it and not let anyone get into it."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah. Anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you lie. "Or, I don't remember, it's all fading. Look, I gotta get to class -- "<br/>
<br/>
"The bell rang fifteen minutes ago."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you need to get inside that mask again. I'll go to the library, get some work done." You grab up your bag.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you don't want to go to the library," he yells after you. "In case -- " But the rest is lost as you skedaddle around the corner of the music wing. You don't slow down until you're inside, and even then you walk really fast, shoes squeaking on the floor. You whip open the door --<br/>
<br/>
And yelp. Braydon is sitting at a middle table. He looks up at you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit. It's only Christian, larping as Braydon.</i> Your heart pounds. But you're not supposed to know about the larping. You're supposed to think that's Braydon over there. Why are you yelping about Braydon?<br/>
<br/>
On trembling legs -- because running away would be worse -- you stumble over and fall into a chair next to him. "Hey, what's up?" Braydon asks. "What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, I was just hoping I wouldn't run into anyone I know." You bury your face in your arm.<br/>
<br/>
"How come?" <i>Jesus, it sounds just like him, just like the Braydon you left behind.</i> You'd forgotten just how <i>freaking weird</i> it is to have people disguised so perfectly as other people. You want to treat him as Braydon.<br/>
<br/>
"On account of Bethany," you improvise. "I'm shitting myself over her. What do you think I should do?"<br/>
<br/>
Fake-Braydon is looking a little white now. Then he sags. "Aw, dammit," he says quietly. "I'm larping, Will. I don't have a clue what you and Braydon talked about."<br/>
<br/>
You stare back evenly, like you're trying to control your surprise. "Who are you?" you ask, as if you didn't know.<br/>
<br/>
"Howie," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You barely keep yourself from levitating. <i>Dumbass Christian, why are you lying to me?</i><br/>
<br/>
Then you think: <i>Wait. Maybe it was Braydon who was lying to me? Maybe he was lying about larping with Christian, he's really larping with Howie?</i><br/>
<br/>
In which case, he didn't get Christian's mask while larping. He <i>stole</i> it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you spend the period hanging out with an imposter, but without knowing what kind of imposter it is. Is it Howie larping as Braydon? Or  is it Christian larping as Howie-who-is-larping-as-Braydon? Even when you quiz him about his classes you can't bust his bluff, because Howie and Christian share almost all the same classes.<br/>
<br/>
But by the time the bell rings, you figure out how to figure out who is larping as who. You follow the present imposter to his German classroom, and linger until Christian shows up. You glance him up and down -- he gives you only a quick nod as he passes -- and hop down the hallway with a grin. <br/>
<br/>
Now you know who was telling the truth earlier. The only question in your mind is, Why was he lying about who he was larping as?<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223111
author_id: seuzz
title: And What's the Deal with Bethany?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb visibly slumps as you walk into Ms. Gladstone's classroom. He glances ostentatiously at the other side of the room.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Crap!</i> In all excitement since David Kirkham grabbed you, you'd forgotten about Bethany. You follows Caleb's glance.<br/>
<br/>
No Bethany.<br/>
<br/>
Well, at least not yet. You drop into your usual seat behind Caleb. "I know she's here today," you mutter at the back of his head.<br/>
<br/>
He makes the "jerk off" gesture without turning around.<br/>
<br/>
"Should I sit here, or over where she sits?"<br/>
<br/>
He half turns his head. "Pick a third option. Neither one appeals to me."<br/>
<br/>
"You could show a little empathy."<br/>
<br/>
"There are a lot of things I could do if I gave a shit."<br/>
<br/>
You thump him in the middle of the back, but he ignores you.<br/>
<br/>
Minutes pass and minutes pass, and your leg jogs harder and harder as Bethany fails to show up. The bell rings, and she is not in her seat. Class starts, and drags on, and drags on, and drags all the way to the final bell without her coming in late.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"She's trying to avoid you," says Carson Ioeger.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but why," says Jenny Ashton. "She liked hanging out with him Sunday."<br/>
<br/>
"So he says," retorts Carson. "Is there something you're not telling us, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, and I'm going to keep on not telling you."<br/>
<br/>
"Thank God for that," says Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Did Prescott tell you what he did to her," Carson asks Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, and that's all I'm going to say about it."<br/>
<br/>
It's seven of you sitting on the quad in front of the school building during fifth-period lunch. Usually it's just you and Caleb and Keith eating quietly in a corner, but today -- as you do maybe once a week -- your trio has folded itself inside the larger group containing Carson and Jenny and James Lamont and Paul Davis. Lin Pol, one of the cheerleaders, has also joined you, and is sitting cross-legged and eating a peach one slow bite at a time, much to Keith's much too obvious delight.<br/>
<br/>
You've made the subject Bethany, of course, in those few moments when it's not <i>you.</i> "Why are you being so mean to Will," Jenny demands of Caleb. "After what happened between him and Lisa -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, now who's being mean to Will?" Carson chortles. "Reminding him of <i>Lisa.</i> Ow!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's from me," Jenny says after striking him hard, and he yells again when she hits him a second time. "And that's from Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Message for Jenny," Carson says, and strikes James. "Pass it on."<br/>
<br/>
"Message for Jenny." "Message for Jenny." "Message for -- " Keith shrinks back as you glare at him, and lowers his arm. James, who passed it to Caleb, and Caleb, who passed it to Keith, roll their eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe she had a relapse," says Paul. "You said she was sick yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Why didn't you talk to her earlier," James asks. "You said you saw her in the hall second period." He studies his sandwich like he's a lot more interested in it than in you, which he likely is.<br/>
<br/>
"I got distracted." You can't bring up Kirkham without bringing up an aftermath that shouldn't be shared.<br/>
<br/>
"Was it Chelsea?" Keith asks. "It was Chelsea or Kendra, right? That's who I'd be distracted by if it was -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Ow!" Carson shouts, almost drowning out Jenny's "Message for Keith from Lin." Carson viciously slaps James. "Message for Keith from Lin. Pass it on."<br/>
<br/>
James slugs Caleb, and Caleb slugs Keith. The latter rubs his arm, and spitefully raises it to strike you before again slinking back with a black look. "It wasn't Chelsea or anyone like that," you say. "I just got jostled, and then she was gone."<br/>
<br/>
"Why didn't you follow her into the classroom?" James asks, so maybe he is interested.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I'd see her in fourth."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you want her to come to <i>you,</i>" Jenny exclaims. "Maybe she wants you to come to <i>her.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"If I knew where to find her, I'd go find her," you say with more bravado than you feel. "Like <i>that.</i>" You snap your fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"She's eating lunch outside the natatorium," says Lin, who's been slurping on that peach in serene silence all this time. "It's where she always eats. Assuming she's still on campus or isn't hiding from you."<br/>
<br/>
After a stunned silence, during which everyone has turned to look at you -- "Then why didn't you say so earlier?" you squeak.<br/>
<br/>
"Because now you've only got five minutes to find her," says Lin as she gathers up her trash. "Which isn't enough time for you to make an idiot of yourself around her. If you actually go looking for her, I mean," she adds, and looks directly at you.<br/>
<br/>
You lurch onto your feet, and almost fall over again from a blood rush. "One more thing, Will." Lin's voice is barely audible through the blood pounding in your ear. "She'll be eating with Andrea Varnsworth.<br/>
<br/>
"High five for Lin," says Carson. "Pass it on."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The natatorium is on the far side of the school, and that old paralysis from this morning has begun to affect your leg long before you reach it. But like the walking wounded that you are, you press on.<br/>
<br/>
At first you see no one by the natatorium, but on coming around one of its corners you come upon two figures. One is Bethany. She's sitting cross-legged with her back to you, leaning forward to address the other girl. That would be Andrea Varnsworth, who's got her back against the wall and is turned in your direction with her eyes closed and a faint smile playing on her lips.<br/>
<br/>
This is every bit as terrifying as you knew it would be. Bad enough to try talking to Bethany, but to do so in front of Andrea, who is --<br/>
<br/>
There's a lot of debate amongst the high school guys as to who the sexiest girl in school is. There's hardly any debate that Andrea is a contender, though. She is tall, lean, sculpted and brown. Her face is a trifle hard, and she keeps her chin tilted, but that only adds to her air of veiled mystery, for Andrea is known to hardly speak, and her hooded eyes have been known to reduce hapless boys to babbling incoherence when she looks at them.<br/>
<br/>
Then Bethany glances over her shoulder. Her eyes widen as she sees you, but she smiles. She also waits for you to speak first. "Hey," you say when you drag your limp self close enough. "I missed you yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't feeling good," says Bethany. There's a twinkle in her eye, but something like worry on her brow.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry to hear that. I missed you in fourth today, too."<br/>
<br/>
Bethany shrugs stiffly. "I had to skip to do something else."<br/>
<br/>
Andrea speaks. "I heard you missed her in second period, too." You look up sharply in surprise. But her eyes are still shut.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Yeah. Uh. Kirkham wanted to talk to me about something." You feel yourself flushing. No point dodging the matter of how you got carried off. Bethany saw it.<br/>
<br/>
Andrea's smile widens a little. "He likes your company?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck you, I'm not scared of you.</i> "I don't want to talk about it. I just heard you were back here," you hastily add to Bethany, "and I wanted to say hi, see if you were okay."<br/>
<br/>
Bethany's grin seems a little glassy, and she only waves back at you before turning that grin onto Andrea and shielding her face from you.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine," says Andrea, and that smile widens further. "Thanks for asking."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at her, then with nothing else to say, to her or to the back of Bethany's head, you trudge off. You try cursing yourself into an early grave as you go, so humiliated do you feel.<br/>
<br/>
And the feeling gets so bad so quickly that you do what you'd never imagine possible for yourself. As the bell rings, you wheel about and march back to where they are.<br/>
<br/>
But Bethany has gone. Only Andrea is there. You stare down at her again -- no point in coming on her like this without drinking her in a for a minute -- then turn around to leave.<br/>
<br/>
As soon as you've turned your back, Andrea speaks. "She has study hall last period." <br/>
<br/>
You wheel around. Her eyes are still closed.<br/>
<br/>
Or are they? Only now do you notice how long her lashes are. Regardless, you don't answer her.<br/>
<br/>
But she's not done with you. "She hangs out in the library. Tries to study. She doesn't get a lot done, though, on account of the pestering."<br/>
<br/>
"Pestering?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Well, she doesn't call it pestering. I think she kind of likes it. But she's not serious about him, the way I think he is about her."<br/>
<br/>
"He? Who?" Your heart is doing gymnastics.<br/>
<br/>
"Hugh Flake. He has study hall that period, and he always sits at the same table with her."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212231111
author_id: seuzz
title: Addends and Evidence
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your brain feels like one of those old-fashioned adding machines in the old cartoons, where the keys go <i>clack clack clack</i> and a lever goes <i>ka-chunk</i> to add up the sum. The thinking is heavy but it comes quickly, and the sums when they arrive are like a punch to the chest.<br/>
<br/>
Darrell used another face to make a hard pass at Bethany. <i>Clack clack clack.</i> He did it that way so he wouldn't be recognized. <i>Ka-chunk!</i> <br/>
<br/>
Darrell and Hugh Flake hang out as part of Christian's group. <i>Clack clack clack.</i> Hugh likes Bethany. <i>Clack clack clack.</i> So Darrell disguised himself so Hugh wouldn't be pissed at him if Hugh heard about it. <i>Ka-chunk!</i><br/>
<br/>
Darrell used your face to make that pass. <i>Clack clack clack.</i> So Hugh is going to be pissed at you if he hears about it. <i>Ka-chunk!</i> <br/>
<br/>
Darrell would have known all this when he picked your face to do the flirting under. <i>Clack clack clack.</i> So he knows Hugh will be pissed at you. Or he wants Hugh to be pissed at you.<i>Ka-chunk!</i> <br/>
<br/>
Darrell is trying to sink you hard. <i>Ka-chunk!</i> <i>Ka-chunk!</i> <i>Ka-chunk!</i> <i>Ding!</i><br/>
<br/>
Okay, maybe there are other possible solutions to the equations. Maybe Darrell wanted to screw things up for Hugh by introducing a rival? Maybe he wanted Bethany to think of you as a creep?<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe the simplest explanation is just that Darrell saw a chance to mack on Bethany while shifting the price onto someone else.<br/>
<br/>
You slump all through Calculus, fidgeting and wondering what to do. Finally, on your way out, you text Darrell, asking him to meet you after school. Just as you hit send, you look up, and bump right into him.<br/>
<br/>
He's on his way to Muniz's Stat class, so he can't talk, but he says he'll meet you outside the library for a couple of minutes after final period. You spend your own seventh period study hall doodling and getting a tiny bit of work done, and you rush out right after the bell so you won't accidentally run into Bethany. Now that you think of it, you have sometimes seen her coming into the library just as you're exiting. But you want to talk to Darrell before seeing her.<br/>
<br/>
But what if Andrea tells Bethany that she told you where Bethany would be? She might expect you to show up in the library.<br/>
<br/>
Well, she's just going to have to make do with Hugh. (Ugh!) Because you've got a class you can't skip: Astronomy.<br/>
<br/>
Normally, it's a highly skippable class, but today, at least, <i>you can't skip it!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You skip it. Your mind is a whirl, and you wind up at the corner of the music building with a crowd you never hang out with: Justin Roth, Karl Hennepin, Connor Davison, and Perry Small.<br/>
<br/>
Hennepin is the reason you feel like you can crash in on them. You were at his place on Friday, doubly there, even, when you and Darrell larped as each other. He gives you an easy smile as you approach their little quartet. "Hey Will. Missed you at the Warehouse," he says. "What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"A fucking curfew happened." You resettle your cap insolently.<br/>
<br/>
Perry Small sneers. "You have a <i>curfew?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" You jerk your shoulders rebelliously, but he just shakes his head. "You don't?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure he does," says Justin. His baritone has a rough edge, probably on account of the cigarette he's sucking on. "He just doesn't obey it."<br/>
<br/>
"Damn straight," boasts Small.<br/>
<br/>
Roth takes a short hit on the cigarette. "Doesn't stop him from getting home exactly an hour <i>after</i> his curfew, though."<br/>
<br/>
That draws snickers from Connor and a dirty look from Perry.<br/>
<br/>
Perry really is the man on the outside in this group, even more than you. He wears khaki pants and a polo shirt and a gold chain around his skinny wrist. His blonde hair is tousled with the worst case of bed head in school, but it's also immovable, so it's obviously styled to look that way. If his face -- a handsome enough one, in a spoiled, preppy kind of way -- weren't perpetually disfigured by a scowl, he'd look like he's trying to model for a fashion catalog.<br/>
<br/>
So he's got no fucking call to look down at you, not when your baggy clothes are a lot closer to Karl's paint-spattered pullover, or Connor's Hawaiian shirt-over-muscle shirt combo, or Roth's tie-die and shaggy haircut.<br/>
<br/>
But you've nothing to contribute as you squat with them, since the topic of the Warehouse has brought up the party scene there, and the guys start talking about the merits of various bands that play there, and whether the place itself is as awesome as it's cracked up to be. You're not much interested in that, but you're slightly interested to note that opinions fluctuate or evolve as Roth offers his own take on things. When he declares that a certain girls' band is better than the others give it credit for, they all begin to talk about where it's good. When he opines that the Warehouse is seriously overrated as a party venue, they begin to speak disparagingly of it. When he qualifies that earlier opinion by noting that the Warehouse is nevertheless a <i>fucking obvious</i> exemplar of spontaneous order, they all agree that's exactly what it is, even though you suspect they are clueless as you as to what "spontaneous order" is.<br/>
<br/>
Whether Roth himself notices the easy dominion he exercises over the group's opinions, you don't know. He's wearing sunglasses, and through a second and then a third cigarette he maintains the stony demeanor of a guy who's either too baked or too bored to give a fuck.<br/>
<br/>
After awhile, though, the talk turns down an avenue where you can contribute, and even steer it a little. It comes when they're talking about one of the bands, and Karl mentions that he hung out a little with Sienna Goldman -- one of the players -- at Andrea Varnsworth's house on Sunday.<br/>
<br/>
"You get to go over to Andrea's house?" you ask in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," says Karl. "I wouldn't say I <i>get</i> to, it's more like I was just over there  -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Psht," Perry snorts at you. "You fucking think you have to get permission to go to her place?"<br/>
<br/>
Justin gasps melodramatically and kicks Hennepin lightly. "You get to hang out at Andrea Varnsworth's house?" His voice cracks shrilly, then he grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck you." You're about ready to ditch these guys. "I don't go places unless I'm invited."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't invite you to my place on Friday," says Hennepin. "You showed up anyway. I didn't mind."<br/>
<br/>
Justin cackles. "There's a big fucking difference between crashing in on you, man, and crashing in on Andrea. Fuck me, there's a difference."<br/>
<br/>
"Haven't you ever been out there?" Connor asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No." Roth again kicks Hennepin in the hip, harder this time. "Next time you're out there, you <i>fucker,</i> make sure you take me along too. God!" He puts his head back against the wall and sucks hard on his lower lip.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want to drop in on her when she's alone?" Connor says with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck me, no, I want a third person there," Justin exclaims. "She'd eat me alive!" He draws his forearm across his forehead.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, she'd do you," Perry laughs. "Don't act like you don't know she'd go down on you."<br/>
<br/>
Now you see a place to jump in: "You know, I'd be happy to make it with anyone on the swim team."<br/>
<br/>
"Nathan Cruz?" says Perry. The nastiness in his tone is unmistakably sincere.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. But how would you guys rank the girls on the swim team?" You tick off your fingers. "Andrea. Olivia. Christine."<br/>
<br/>
"Christine Coolidge?" asks Connor.<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Jamie Bornholm."<br/>
<br/>
"You know who all's on the swim team? What are you doing, stalking them?" Justin laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"No! I just got a lot of them for classes, so I know who they are. Well, most of them. I know I'm forgetting someone." You wrinkle your brow in pretended puzzlement.<br/>
<br/>
"Nathan Cruz," Perry repeats.<br/>
<br/>
No one supplies the name "Bethany Lewis," and you hold back until someone will. Instead, everyone takes turns ranking the girls you've named. Andrea, naturally, is at the top of all the lists. Olivia ranks second for everyone but Connor, who puts Jamie ahead of her. The other names come in a mixed order.<br/>
<br/>
Then you affect to remember Bethany. You're not sure you're pleased that she comes in high, even displacing Jamie from Connor's number two spot and Olivia from Perry's. But Justin offers no opinion.<br/>
<br/>
At least not until after the final bell has rung, and the guys start to move. Justin is the last to get up with a weary grunt, and spends some time dusting his jeans of grass and dirt, so that you're the only one with him by the time he's lifting his pack onto his shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
Why you lingered with him, you don't know, unless it was because you were particularly interested in the answer to the question you blurt out now. "You didn't say anything about Bethany when we were talking about her. You know who she is?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah." He looks over at the portables, and he flashes his teeth at someone over there in what might be a grimace or might be a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think of her? You didn't say anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Why do I gotta say something? Do <i>you</i> like her?" He shifts his head slightly, so that he's probably looking at you from behind those shades.<br/>
<br/>
And you start to stammer, conveying much more (you're sure) than you intend with the mere words "I think" and "Better than" and "Like". At least, Justin seems to pick up a lot of meaning from them, for that grin reappears on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I didn't say anything," he says, "'cos with those other girls, we were only talking about girls we ain't been close to."<br/>
<br/>
A knot forms in your throat. "You've been close to Bethany?"<br/>
<br/>
"Close enough," he says. "You'd like her." He brushes past you with a slow, cowboy-like swagger.</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122311111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Contusion of Conversations
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>You'd like her.</i><br/>
<br/>
That's what Justin Roth -- claiming some experience with the girl -- told you about Bethany Lewis. For a long, paralyzed minute you wonder if he meant it as a tease, a taunt, a brag, a bit of encouragement, or just a plain statement of fact. Or maybe he didn't mean anything by it at all.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, you remember you're supposed to meet Darrell by the library.<br/>
<br/>
"So, hey," he says as you slow up next to him. "I hear you gave up larping."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fucker.</i> "Yeah. So I wanted to ask you -- "<br/>
<br/>
"That's too bad." He's looking past you as he speaks -- his mouth hanging open a little -- as though trying to spot someone. "Weren't you having fun?"<br/>
<br/>
A flush prickles up your back. "Who with? Bethany or Emily?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" He looks at you for the first time. "Oh. Uh. Either?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by 'either'?" Now, maybe too late, it occurs to you that he might be as aggravated with you about Emily as you are with him about Bethany.<br/>
<br/>
His cheeks pale, and his eyes widen. "Uhhhhhhhh."<br/>
<br/>
You grab him by the elbows. "Look, I wanted to ask you about Bethany, about why you did that -- that thing with her."<br/>
<br/>
"What thing?"<br/>
<br/>
That prickling, which started up your back as a flush of anger, has reached your face and become a blush of acute embarrassment. "That thing with your mouth and -- " You choke a little. "With hers."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. That." He goes back to looking around, and you wonder if he's stoned. But you don't remember anything from your time in his mask that suggests Darrell likes to get high. "What about it?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Why did you do it?"</i><br/>
<br/>
Now panic shows in his eyes. You snap your fingers in his face --<br/>
<br/>
-- and with dawning horror ask the now-obvious question. "Who are you?"<br/>
<br/>
He wilts. "Harrison," he says in a near-whisper.<br/>
<br/>
<i>God damn it!</i> It's Hugh's kid brother, a middle-schooler, larping around in a high school senior's mask. You can't believe Darrell agreed to it. "Well, when you see Darrell, tell him to call me. It's really important."<br/>
<br/>
"You could call him on my phone."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I have to go kick a dog now. Later." You stalk off toward the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're almost home when your phone dings, and you snatch it up hard. But it's only Keith, asking what's doing. You tell him you don't know yet and that you'll let him know when Hell opens a ski resort.<br/>
<br/>
You're on the stairway when it dings again. This time it's a text from Caleb, asking why you're pissed at Keith. <i>not mad just expecting text,</i> you reply. For good measure, you text Keith a brusque apology.<br/>
<br/>
You're stewing and stewing and stewing at your desk when it dings again. With a sour grimace you pick it up. Now you're not so inclined to talk to Darrell.<br/>
<br/>
But it's Braydon, and the lilt in his voice is so strong he's practically singing. "Wanna meet me at the quarry? We can get your golem out."<br/>
<br/>
"What, are you there now?" He can't be; school just ended.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah. It's all in one piece, too. If we bring your mask out, we can put it on the golem and walk it out of here, easy peasy."<br/>
<br/>
You lurch toward your bed and shoot your hand under it, feeling for the mask. Then you stop. "But what will we do with it? We can't have two of me running around!"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll put it someplace."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Where?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I know. You still have the key to that basement? Because it really played hell with Howie's allergies, and we don't need it for the mask stuff anymore, so Christian's giving it up. We can put it there. Then it'll be easy for you to get to."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I want to." But you pull the mask out, and tell him you'll be at the quarry in thirty minutes. <br/>
<br/>
"If I'm not there," Braydon says, "it's 'cos I ran back to town to get a Big Gulp. I'll get you one too. Or I'll get you two of them, one for each of you." He laughs liltingly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you have to pull over before you're even out of town. A text from Darrell finally comes, and then you call him.<br/>
<br/>
You talk while sitting in a convenience store parking lot. "You didn't have to yell at Harrison," he tells you reproachfully.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know it was Harrison. I thought it was you, and you were acting like a dumbass because you didn't know what I was talking about."<br/>
<br/>
"I still don't know what you're talking about. Chill out, Will."<br/>
<br/>
You count to five, then discover you have to count a little farther because you're suddenly embarrassed all over again by what you want to talk about. So you dodge it by asking about Emily Sparks. "So, you know what I did with her, right? On Friday and on Sunday? Are you okay with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. It's cool. I like Emily. I hung out with her at lunch yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you like Bethany?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a long pause on his end. "Is that what this is about?" he finally asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! What do you think this is about? Why did you do it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't you like it?"<br/>
<br/>
You choke a little before getting the "Yeah!" out. "But it was a really out of character thing for me to do!"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know that, I just -- "<br/>
<br/>
"What, do <i>you</i> just go around sticking your tongue in girls' mouths? I mean, I liked it fine, but -- !" You rub your face, which is burning. "I really liked it, but, uh -- " The vivid memory of the taste and feel of Bethany's mouth is seriously fucking with your ability to concentrate and yell at Darrell.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you get in trouble with her? Because she seemed to like it."<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't been able to talk to her! She was absent yesterday, and today -- Okay, I saw her a little bit at lunch, but I didn't have to time to -- And she was kind of weird, she wouldn't look at me, and, you know, Andrea was with her, and that was, uh -- " Your breathlessness overwhelms your ability to talk.<br/>
<br/>
"You were pretty cool with Emily on Sunday," Darrell observes. "Why can't you be cool with Bethany? You're freaking out."<br/>
<br/>
"Because I like Bethany a lot better than I like Emily!" You pound on the steering wheel, and accidentally hit the horn.<br/>
<br/>
"So do I. That's why I kissed her."<br/>
<br/>
"As me, Darrell, as me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" he says, though his obvious intended meaning is <i>So?</i><br/>
<br/>
You cover your eyes with your free hand, and whimper. "Does this have anything to do with Hugh?" You didn't want to play that card, but you feel defeated.<br/>
<br/>
"With me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, not with you. With Hugh. With H-h-h-hugh! Because he likes her, doesn't he? I heard he pesters her all the time in the library."<br/>
<br/>
"Who told you that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Andrea."<br/>
<br/>
"You talked to Andrea? Varnsworth? Dude!"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you she was there! With Bethany, at lunch!"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't say you talked to her. What was it like?"<br/>
<br/>
This useless and impossible conversation drags on for much longer than it should, but at the end of it you have the impression that Darrell wasn't really thinking of anything when he did his stuff with Bethany. He didn't care that Hugh might have a crush on her, and he used your mask to hit on her because then he wouldn't get the blame if it went south. Is he going to try hanging out with her as himself? you ask. He doesn't know.<br/>
<br/>
<i>In other words, he's just dumb,</i> you reflect as you resume your drive to the quarry.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your destination isn't far outside the city boundaries, but it's a little remote, being situated at the end of a winding road up into a small cluster of low hills. There's a chain link fence around it, but you remember from your one trip out when you were a sophomore that there's a place about a hundred yards off the road where you can get squeeze through.<br/>
<br/>
Except there's no need. The gate is down -- busted down completely -- so you just drive through. Around a corner you come upon Braydon's car.<br/>
<br/>
He gets out as you pull up, and sets a Big Gulp on the hood of your truck. "Got the mask?" he asks, and you nod. "Bring some clothes for it?" Your face craters. "Oh well," he shrugs. "It's just a fake."<br/>
<br/>
The quarry is carved into the hillside, and there's a smooth track leading down onto its floor, which is only a few dozen feet lower than where you're parked. Braydon leads you down it. Rainwater has collected in a couple of broad patches, but it won't be deep. And the golem isn't even immersed in one. Chen apparently just heaved it out at the point where he parked.<br/>
<br/>
Braydon's right. It's completely undamaged, and even when you turn it over you can find no chips or flakes. You wonder if anybody has found it since Christian's golem dumped it here, and what they thought of this perfect and highly detailed stone replica of Gary Chen. But since you don't want to risk getting caught with it, you waste no time in putting your mask on it. The pallor flushes to the color of skin, and a version of yourself sits up. "What the -- ? How did I get here?"<br/>
<br/>
You tell it to be quiet, and send it to sit in your truck. "Passenger side," you shout after it, and it gives you a look of disappointed disgust.<br/>
<br/>
"You know," says Braydon casually. "I bet we could use that mask of Kirkham to sneak into Chen's house and get those masks that Christian hid there."<br/>
<br/>
This suggestion doesn't surprise you in the least. Because he's been doing quite a bit of sneaking around.<br/>
<br/>
He didn't larp as Christian today -- it was Howie that Braydon switched with. As it's unlikely Christian would have loaned his mask out, Braydon must have sneaked into his house to get it.</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223111112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Warning and a Temptation
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Look, I'm really glad you came and found my golem and helped me get it back," you tell Braydon. And you suppose you are grateful, even though he didn't do anything you couldn't have done yourself. "And that's why I think you need to lay off this stuff and not go sticking your nose anymore into Christian's business. You want to leave the masks alone."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon laughs softly. "Maybe I do, and maybe I -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Trust me, you do. You're going to piss off Christian. And -- " You take a deep breath. "Christian is probably going to get really ticked if he catches you."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "So he gets ticked. What's he going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't get rid of the book, Braydon! He kept it. He's still got it at his house. And he's still experimenting with it." You just keep adding the sentences as Braydon's eyes widen without him saying anything.<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't tell me all this earlier."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was kind of pissed at you earlier -- "<br/>
<br/>
"What? Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you lied about how you got ahold of Christian's mask!" You hold his eye as his brow darkens. "I noticed what you were wearing. And Christian wasn't wearing those clothes when I saw him later, but Howie was. And I knew to look at what Howie was wearing, because I ran into a guy who looked like you in the library, and he told me he was Howie. So I know Christian didn't give you the mask as part of a larping thing!"<br/>
<br/>
Braydon looks away, and clucks his tongue. "Fucking Howie. Always into the technical stuff, can't role-play for shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Why didn't you just tell me how you got the mask? You sneaked into Christian's house, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't tell you because I thought you'd be pissed."<br/>
<br/>
"And guess what, I am! We're up there more often than Christian is!" <br/>
<br/>
"Hey, at least we know now that he kept the book. He's a much bigger liar than I am."<br/>
<br/>
You open your mouth to yell at him, then snap it shut. "Yes," you sigh after you've mastered your temper. "I guess he is. And I don't want you to get in trouble with him, which is why I'm warning you about him."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's he doing with the book?"<br/>
<br/>
It's almost like a replay of your conversation with Darrell. Both of them seem incapable of fixating on the subject that is troubling you. You rub your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he did the spell that came after the one we used to make -- " You jerk your thumb off in the direction of your truck. "But he didn't have to kill anyone to do it."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. So what did it do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't remember. I was hardly in his mask that long and I forgot most of it. Like, I know he kept the book and he hid it, but I don't remember where."<br/>
<br/>
"Did it have anything to do with golems or masks or was it a new thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I don't remember! I did know, for a little while afterward. But it's like a dream, I forgot it almost instantly." You close your eyes and concentrate. "No, it's all gone. And there was something else, something wrong with the book, but I don't remember what exactly it was."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon's gaze goes distant, and he glances over his shoulder in the direction of town. "Huh."<br/>
<br/>
You grab him. "Don't go there, Braydon! I told you, let's just leave it alone."<br/>
<br/>
"But he lied, bro."<br/>
<br/>
"You lied too!"<br/>
<br/>
He smiles sadly. "Did it make a difference? You put the mask on anyway. What if I told you I snuck in and took it? Would you have put it on?"<br/>
<br/>
You start to say "No," but catch yourself. Would it have made a difference? You don't know why it would have. "Let's just leave things alone."<br/>
<br/>
But he only shrugs, and you have a sinking feeling as you drive back to town behind him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You resolve to try putting things behind you, though. You get your golem down in the school basement, and wedge him into a distant corner behind some book cases -- "It's like you're trying to bury me alive," he whines. "What's that story about the guy who gets walled up?" "The Cast of Amontillado," says Braydon, and then you take the mask off it, leaving the petrified Chen hidden where only a determined exploration will find him. Then you arrange to meet Braydon and Gillian at Starbucks after dinner. "I got girl problems," you tell him when he asks with obvious trepidation what you want to talk about. "Oh," he laughs. "Gillian will like that."<br/>
<br/>
So you get as much of your homework done before and after dinner, and at nine o'clock head out to Starbucks to meet your friends.<br/>
<br/>
They're already there, Braydon looking relaxed and a little bored, and Gillian with her chin in her hand and her eyes gleaming as she watches you come in and order yourself a coffee. You get a little revenge by taking your time with the barista, who's a guy you knew in school before he graduated last year, and Gillian looks almost mad with amusement when you finally settle in with them. But she doesn't say anything, and leaves it to you to open with a little small talk about the school day and who you hung out with, and the sucky, <i>sucky</i> way you kept running into people who weren't who they appeared to be. Braydon's eyes sharpen at that, then relax when you start talking about the Darrell Parson who wasn't Darrell Parson.<br/>
<br/>
Gillian laughs hard at your story of manhandling Harrison Flake in order to get him to confess who he was. "Harrison's smart," she says. "Isn't he smart?" she asks her hubby. "He could handle high school. He's smarter than Darrell."<br/>
<br/>
"Thing is, I wanted to talk to Darrell," you retort. "And when I did, he turned out to be useless. He's the one who got me in trouble Sunday."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought that was Christian."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm talking about him and Bethany."<br/>
<br/>
"Finally," Gillian exclaims. "I wondered when you'd finally get around to it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I haven't seen her. Or I've barely seen her. She wasn't in class yesterday, so I'm okay about that. But I only talked to her for a minute at lunch, and she was weird." You describe how she acted. "And she wasn't in Ms. Gladstone's class -- "<br/>
<br/>
"She wasn't?" says Braydon.<br/>
<br/>
"You're in there, didn't you notice? Oh, right. You were -- " You look between him and Gillian. "Uh -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he and Howie were larping," Gillian says casually. "Go on. She wasn't in Ms. Gladstone's?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but I saw her on her way to her second period class. And a little at lunch. I asked her about English and she said she skipped because she had something to do." You glance at Braydon. "Does Hugh have a crush on her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... I've seen them sitting together in the library."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't get what you're so worried about, Will," says Gillian. "Just go talk to her." She stifles a laugh by burying her face in her arm. "You've already kissed her, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I -- ! But it wasn't me!"<br/>
<br/>
"She doesn't know that." Gillian's eyes twinkle so hard they're almost dazzling.<br/>
<br/>
You face palm hard. "Okay, I'm scared. You want me to admit it? I am!"<br/>
<br/>
"You've got nothing to worry about, Will," says Gillian. "It's obvious she likes you."<br/>
<br/>
"Is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"God, yes! You said she gets tongue-tied around you, and she's suddenly really shy about being in class with you."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say she gets tongue-tied around me!"<br/>
<br/>
"At lunch? She hardly talked and then she ran off?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're just trying to -- To -- "<br/>
<br/>
"To what?" Gillian plucks at your chin mischievously. "Get you to talk to her? Sure! You'll break her heart otherwise."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't see it!" You hide your face, which is probably purple with embarrassment by now.<br/>
<br/>
Braydon speaks. "If you don't do something about it, you'll really regret it later," he says calmly.<br/>
<br/>
"I just don't believe it."<br/>
<br/>
Someone sighs wearily, and two voices start talking at once. Braydon's wins out. "What would it take to convince you? She kissed you, and the way I hear it, she kissed you back."<br/>
<br/>
"She was just being polite," you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," he snorts. "Talk yourself out of it."<br/>
<br/>
"He needs to be talked into it," Gillian says. "He needs someone to ask her what she -- " She gasps hard. "You need to talk to her and find out what she thinks of you!"<br/>
<br/>
You drop your hands in surprise. "I can't just go up to her and ask her that! 'Hur hur, what do you think of me, Bethany?'"<br/>
<br/>
"No, not like that!" Gillian bounces in her seat excitedly. "Someone who isn't you needs to ask her what she thinks of you, and that someone needs to really be you!"<br/>
<br/>
You're still trying to make sense of that when Braydon tells her why her idea won't work. "Will's not allowed to larp anymore."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." Her face falls. "Well, I thought it was perfect. Because, I mean, obviously me or Braydon could talk to her, if we knew her well enough, or we could talk to some of her friends, but you'd have an easier time believing it if it were you. But -- " She sighs deeply. "Stupid Christian and his -- " She turns sharply toward her hubby. "But what Christian doesn't know won't hurt him. Sweetie, you could -- "<br/>
<br/>
"No," Braydon says flatly.<br/>
<br/>
"But -- "<br/>
<br/>
"No. I'm not getting in the middle of it. I don't even know her, really."<br/>
<br/>
And that refusal kills the topic dead.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Or so it seems, until the next morning. You've just parked and are fiddling with your bag when the passenger door opens and Braydon swings into the cab. He gives you a long, steady look. "If you want to talk to Bethany, I know whose mask you can use," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't use a mask."<br/>
<br/>
"What Christian doesn't know won't hurt him. And he was pretty good friends with Bethany last year."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
From his bag he takes a mask and shows you the name inside it: RUSSELL CHRISTIAN KNOUSE.</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212231111121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Magic Christian
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your first, totally ridiculous thought is, <i>I didn't know Christian's first name was Russell.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your second thought comes exploding out of your mouth: "The fuck are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
Braydon looks wounded. "I'm trying to set it up so you can get close to Bethany."<br/>
<br/>
"By stealing Christian's mask again?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, Will." A half smile disfigures Braydon's face. "He gave it to me. He called me this morning and suggested we larp as each other today. He didn't do it yesterday with me, you know, but he called me this morning and said we could do it today."<br/>
<br/>
Your breath is coming in heavy gasps, and you can only listen to him.<br/>
<br/>
"So that's what we did." Braydon looks out your back window. "There he goes now. Just got out of my car." You glance to where he's looking, and spot a guy who, from the back, looks like Braydon. "I'm supposed to go change in his car," Braydon continues, "so it looks like I'm him just getting to school. But you could go in as him instead, talk to Bethany, find out what she thinks of you -- "<br/>
<br/>
It's a horribly exciting thought, and you have to flail for an excuse not to do it. "But what about you, what would you do?" <br/>
<br/>
"Skip. Mind if I borrow your truck? I'll just go hang out someplace."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not supposed to go larping."<br/>
<br/>
He hears the weakness in your voice, and smiles mischievously. "How's Christian going to find out?"<br/>
<br/>
So your reserves collapse, and you change clothes with him, there in your truck, and scamper over to Christian's car. <i>Just remember you're supposed to be Braydon,</i> you tell yourself as you drop into the driver's seat and close the door. <i>Going to be hard,</i> you reflect. You won't have Braydon's memories and instincts underneath Christian's.<br/>
<br/>
Only at the last minute, as you start to raise the mask to your face, do you wonder if Braydon told Gillian what was going to be happening.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Oh, freaking hell,</i> you grumble to yourself as you wake. <i>How did I -- ? Ohhhh.</i> You rub your face.<br/>
<br/>
The world is a blur. Not a bad blur. You can make out the Toyota's dashboard clearly enough, and with a little squinting you can even read the dials. But the cars around are just splashes of color, and the school building is a blob. You squint at it, but it remains a blob only.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Where the fuck are my glasses?</i> You paw around the cabin, and narrowly avoid stepping on them when you find them in the wheel well. They must have fallen there when you put the mask on.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah yeah. The mask. Freaking Braydon and his -- </i><br/>
<br/>
You pause. Yeah, you called him this morning. Or rather, Christian called him, asked him if he was up for a school swap. Braydon really had pestered him the day before, so that although Christian didn't want to do it, he called Braydon with the suggestion this morning. But he was pretty reluctant to do it.<br/>
<br/>
You peer at the lenses and clean them with the corner of Christian's powder blue pullover sweater. The frames are rectangles, with clear bottoms but black rims along the top, and their narrow horizontal shape counteracts the narrow vertical shape of Christian's head. You slide them on, and push the bridge up with the tip of your finger. You pull down the mirror visor and examine yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Christian Knouse has soft, ivory-colored skin against which his lips show redly, and floppy blonde hair that hangs over his forehead. His complexion is clear of acne, and the only mark on his face is a large mole on his jaw. His features are sharp and a little foxy, especially when he raises that one eyebrow up high. You raise it now and thoughtfully rub a cheek that gets shaved maybe once a month when its owner has gotten tired of waiting for anything like real stubble to show up.<br/>
<br/>
You open the door and drop dirty white Converse sneakers onto the asphalt, and loft the backpack onto your shoulders when you stand up. You close and lock the car door, checking it --<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mm.</i> That's one of Christian's reflexes, one that Braydon wouldn't know about. <i>Well, fucky fucky fucky,</i> you think as you lope along on skinny legs toward the school. You're just going to have to get by with lots of little gestures and tics that mark you out as Christian while the guy himself bumbles through as Braydon. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey, how'd Harrison do yesterday?" That's Darrell, banging his shoulder on the locker next to yours as he drops against it. <br/>
<br/>
"He did fine, what's it matter," you retort as you change out books. "Muniz caught him out at one point -- Uh, I mean -- " <i>I'm not Christian, I'm to be supposed to be Braydon pretending to be Christian,</i> you tell yourself. You lean into Darrell's face, and raise a very exaggerated eyebrow. "It's not like <i>you're</i> acing the class, man. If you were worried about it, why'd you let him larp for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"To be nice to him," says Darrell. He looks vaguely insulted. "Anyway, I wasn't asking about the schoolwork. I mean, did anyone notice anything off about his game? My game? While he was -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"You have a game? I never noticed that," you drawl.<br/>
<br/>
He nods vacantly. "Yeah. There's some of those junior girls? In my first period class? Like -- "<br/>
<br/>
You fix him with Christian's most piercing gaze. "You notice anything off about <i>my</i> game, bro?"<br/>
<br/>
He blinks. "When? 'Cos yesterday I was -- "<br/>
<br/>
"How about like right now?" You raise that eyebrow and purse your lips.<br/>
<br/>
He stares. "Uhhhhhh -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Look carefully, Darrell. If not at my face then at something else."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes travel slowly and warily over you. "New pants?"<br/>
<br/>
You pull down your glasses and pinch the bridge of your nose, and give up on the "Braydon" pretense. "You know what, I'm just going to pretend that this all a very flattering testament to my role-playing skills. In fact, the next time I have to roll up a character -- " You don't just hear, you feel your voice getting shriller. "I am <i>not</i> even going to put anything toward Charisma, or Persuasion, or Deception, not when it's so <i>flipping</i> obvious that I can just bullshit my way through anything because even the people who should be on the lookout for a shapeshifting rogue half-elf, half-orc with twenty campaigns experience running cons as part of a traveling thespian company -- " You take a deep breath, to catch up to where Christian's brain has gone running, and to give Darrell's jaw a chance to finish dropping. "No, I'm not even going to <i>try</i> to arm or protect myself with the relevant skills and abilities set, not when even Howie's lich-who-can-see-through-twenty-miles-of-rock can spot me after I waltz into his throne room, whip out my cock, and say, 'Pull on that, it feels a little loose' -- and when he does, <i>it comes off in his hand.</i> Why should I invest in play-acting skills when not even <i>then</i> can another character figure out what's going on right in front of him?" You fall back on your heels. "So do you <i>get</i> what I'm <i>saying</i> here, Darrell?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes are bulging, and he's gone red. "No. What's your fucking problem, man?"<br/>
<br/>
"My problem is that even after I set up a system to prevent surprises, it fails not only to be foolproof, or even damfoolproof, it even fails to be <i>goddamfoolproof.</i> Go talk to <i>Braydon</i> if you want to know what my problem is." Darrell looks very vexed as you slam the locker and stalk off toward Mr. Cash's classroom, where Christian always hangs out before classes start.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your problem actually is Christian's problem, and you should have controlled yourself because it definitely wouldn't have been Braydon's problem. <br/>
<br/>
But Christian has a website -- peppermintdwarves.com -- to host his gaming and writing and musical wiseassery, and he's got a little message forum there too for his friends. It never gets used, and apparently it's not getting used now, not even after he <i>told</i> people to post notes there saying when they were going to go larping as each other. If Darrell had checked, he'd have known that "Christian" wasn't himself, same as Christian understood yesterday that Darrell was really Harrison, Braydon was Howie, and Howie was Braydon because they had posted on the forum that they were going larping as each other.<br/>
<br/>
That was the <i>whole point</i> of setting up that system, so bad things wouldn't accidentally go down with the masks, like when -- <br/>
<br/>
The thought of the grimoire, and the masks, and the golems, causes your stomach to plunge. You were first so busy thinking about Bethany, then about classes, and then about Darrell, that only now do you swallow at the realization that Braydon has maneuvered you back to where you can see what Christian's been getting up to with the grimoire.<br/>
<br/>
You sink into his desk, and slouch down low. <i>Oh, fucking Jesus!</i><br/>
<br/>
The least of your worries is the torn page that's currently baffling Christian. So he can't get farther in the book, that's good. But that last spell he uncovered -- that paste that he made up and used to paint the inside of the mask of Gary Chen. He used it to unlock the book and read the rest of the spell -- and discovered that the freaking stuff can turn people into temporary golems -- slaves under his control!<br/>
<br/>
You pull hard at your lip, and drill holes into the desk with your eyes as you ponder the dangers. Christian hasn't done anything bad with it -- at least not yet.<br/>
<br/>
But could he? You know where he's hidden the grimoire, and with his face you could get back into his house without sneaking.</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122311111213
author_id: seuzz
title: Attitudes Christian and UnChristian
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Stealing the grimoire from Christian would start off some kind of war, but you're also not going to let him get away with all this secrecy. You're going to tell him what you know, and that he can't keep this stuff a secret from everyone else in the group. And you're going to tell him this even though -- <br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> There's a lot of confessions you're going to have to make if you do that. Larping in violation of your own promise. The weird way you can get into a mask's memories so fast. Braydon's complicity in all the above.<br/>
<br/>
But you've already confessed worse -- what you did to Gary Chen -- so this should be comparatively easy.<br/>
<br/>
So all during first period you ponder how to handle the confessions. It helps that Christian himself is a sneaky little shit, and his brain helps you concoct a way to do it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Second period is AP Calculus, which Christian shares with Howie and Hugh. They both do a double take as you come in, and Howie leans forward to pat the chair in front of him. You're puzzled as you take the seat, and are still puzzled when he leans forward to hiss at you. "Hey man, you gonna need some help in here like last time?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Last time?</i> "What are you talking about?" you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Like, if Kowalski sends you to the board to do a problem? Want us to cover for you like last time?"<br/>
<br/>
This still doesn't make any sense. Christian is totally capable of --<br/>
<br/>
Oh, right. Unlike Darrell, these two must have seen Christian's post at the peppermintdwarves forum, and they think you're Braydon larping as Christian. "I can handle things. It's me." You lower your voice. "Braydon and I aren't switching till after this class. On account of what happened last time -- " You have no idea what happened the last time Braydon larped as Christian in Calculus, so you cock a meaningful eyebrow and fall silent. Howie grins back.<br/>
<br/>
It won't matter if this lie gets exposed later on. Lots of lies are going to get exposed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You accompany Howie to German for Reading Knowledge, but lose him at lunch and go looking for Gillian in the library instead. After you spot her, you repair to a restroom, lock yourself in a stall, and remove Christian's mask.<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later, after splashing your own face with cold water, you return to the library. Christian's clothes are too short and small for you, and they chafe in horrible places as you walk in. Gillian does a double take when she sees you, and smiles quizzically. You gesture her away from Danielle Davis and Fred Hildown, and rises slowly to join you in one of the stacks. "What's all the cloak and dagger stuff for," she asks. "And what happened to your clothes?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're Christian's. Didn't Braydon tell you about that?"<br/>
<br/>
She stares, and then her eyes pop. She covers her hand with her mouth, and grins. "Did my hubby set you up with -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, your hubby set me up with Christian's mask, and I need you to sabotage me."<br/>
<br/>
She gasps. "Sabotage? What are you -- ?" Her eyes widen. "You're not going through with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"With Bethany? Fuck yeah, I'm going through with it, but there's a complication. Basically -- Okay, not 'basically,' it's just the way it is, but I need you to go tell Christian -- you know, the guy who's pretending to be your hubby -- that I'm larping as him. As Christian, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
Gillian's eyes are now practically spinning in their sockets. "I don't get what you're -- What do you want me to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I want you to go to Christian, and tell him what I'm doing. Tell him that you and Braydon thought I should use someone's mask to go talk to Bethany, so I could find out if she liked me, and that you guys gave me Christian's mask to use."<br/>
<br/>
"But you're not supposed to go larping, Will," Gillian says. "And then he'll know!"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. I want him to find out, but I don't want to be the one to tell him."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?" She bridles. "Why does it have to be our fault?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not anyone's fault!" You draw a deep breath. "Tell him that you got to feeling guilty about helping me to cheat, and you were worried he'd find out, so you want to tell him ahead of time, so he'll know it's just a one-time thing to help me with Bethany."<br/>
<br/>
She looks very dubious. "You're still going to get in trouble, Will."<br/>
<br/>
You lean in to whisper in her ear. "It'll be okay. Trust me. Will you do this for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," she says slowly. "My hubby's going to get in trouble too -- "<br/>
<br/>
"That's why you insist it was just a one-time thing. I'm definitely not larping after this."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Well, maybe he'll understand." Gillian still sounds the opposite of convinced.<br/>
<br/>
"Good, thanks." You almost kiss her on the cheek, but restrain yourself. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's not your face, it's Christian's face that you're showing when you walk out toward the natatorium a few minutes after the fifth period tardy bell has rung. So you shouldn't be nervous. But you are, and you still are even after you've psyched yourself up with the pep talk, "I'm Christian Knouse, I'm Christian Knouse. Doesn't matter if I fuck up, because I'm Christian Knouse."<br/>
<br/>
But your nerves are stressed only partly on account of having to talk to Bethany. Mostly it's because Andrea Varnsworth is sitting with her, just like she was yesterday. Today, though, the two girls are relaxing side by side against the wall.<br/>
<br/>
Bethany smiles as you approach. "Hey Christian, I didn't know you had lunch this period."<br/>
<br/>
"Study hall." You make the jerk-off gesture, then catch yourself and put your hand behind your back. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
"About what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott." You cock that eyebrow. "Do I and my friends have to straighten him out?"<br/>
<br/>
Bethany's mouth sags open, and Andrea's eyebrows go up. "Straighten him out?" Andrea says on behalf of her friend, and she sounds very amused. "What does that mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's been hanging out with us a lot lately, and if he's been bugging you, we could tell him it's not cool to bug you."<br/>
<br/>
Bethany's brow furrows. "How has he been bugging me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me." You squat on your heels and purse your lips. "I heard he was hanging out you up at the mall on Sunday."<br/>
<br/>
Bethany turns very red. "Yeah, he was hanging out with me. That's not the same as bugging me."<br/>
<br/>
"It could escalate. He could escalate to bugging you. Very easily."<br/>
<br/>
Andrea speaks for Bethany again. "I don't think it's any of your business, Christian."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I'm just saying that if she doesn't want Will macking on her -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Macking?" Bethany says shrilly.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want him to?" You send that eyebrow even higher. "Because he could and would. With extreme prejudice."<br/>
<br/>
Bethany's whole face is the color of bruise now. Andrea says, "Get out of here, Christian, before I kick you in the balls."<br/>
<br/>
You ignore her. "Look, if you're okay with Will, if you like him, just say so. I'm trying to be your friend here -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Funny way to show it," says Andrea. <br/>
<br/>
" -- and if you like Will, I think that's awesome. I like him too. It's just -- " You push up your glasses to rub your eye. "Look, Will is sensitive, but he's also kind of oblivious, and if you're not interested in him he probably won't notice, and then things could get awkward, and if you wind up having to brush him off it'll really hurt his feelings. So I'm just saying that if you want him to back off or to not even try anything, just tell me, and me and Darrell and the rest of us, we can, you know, discourage him on our end so you don't have to do it yourself."<br/>
<br/>
By the time you get to the end of this speech, Bethany is trembling hard. "Well, thanks a lot, Christian," she says in a ragged voice. "But I'd tell you to -- " Her jaw works. "I'd tell you to go screw yourself before I asked that kind of favor."<br/>
<br/>
You hold her eye, and when you don't move she jumps up and runs off.<br/>
<br/>
You watch her go, then turn to Andrea. "I could have handled that better, couldn't I?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you were the <i>perfect</i> asshole," she coolly replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Does she like Will? Because I have it on pretty good authority that he's going to ask her out."<br/>
<br/>
"Then he can ask her out, and she can decide what to do about it then."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you at least do me a favor? Can you tell Bethany that Will's going to ask her out, and if she's going to turn him down, to come tell me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Then can you tell Will if she says she's going to turn him down?"<br/>
<br/>
"As a favor for you? No."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jesus.</i> "Then how about as a favor to Will? Or has <i>he</i> pissed you off?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know him. Is he anything like you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mostly, except for the asshole part." <i>I hope,</i> you add silently.<br/>
<br/>
When she makes no reply, you sigh and trudge back into the school building.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're changing out books for seventh period Statistics when someone punches you in the shoulder. You turn. The guy's got Braydon Delp's face, but Christian Knouse's hard, satirical eyes. "Hi, <i>Will,</i>" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, why are you calling me 'Will'," you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Cut the bullshit, man, Gillian told me what's going on." He sighs deeply. "So, have you been to talk to Bethany yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, at lunch. Well, your study hall. Are you mad at me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so, but we'll forget about it this once. Jesus, man, do I have to put a collar on you?"<br/>
<br/>
Actually, with that new spell he uncovered he <i>could</i> put a collar on you. So do you confront him now about his lies, or do you wait till after school, when you can tell Braydon and Darrell and Howie and the others?</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223111112131
author_id: seuzz
title: Christian's Turn to Come Clean
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Listen, I know I've got Stat now," you say. "But can you skip so we can talk?"<br/>
<br/>
"We can talk after school," says the guy who is disguised as Braydon. His manner -- pissy and biting -- is so much more Christian's style than Braydon's that you can almost see Christian's real face behind the Braydon face.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Then we can wait until then to talk about the quarry where you dumped that golem, and Chen's house and all the old masks you hid there, and the book with the torn page you've got up in your bedroom."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes get very large, then freeze. "How do you know about -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't matter. But if you can't skip I can talk about this stuff, I guess it can wait till after school."<br/>
<br/>
He pulls you by the elbow into the seething hallway.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You settle out behind A wing and, he asks you to describe what you know.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," you drawl. "I know what you did with that golem I made, and how you put Chen's mask on your own golem and gave it the old masks. I also know that you didn't get rid of the grimoire like you said you would -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to find a way to turn Chen back to normal," Christian says.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. But then I also know how you executed the next spell in the book. The one that made that paste, with the graveyard dirt and the hair and the chemicals. I know how you used it to paint the inside of that mask of Chen. And how you turned the page and read the back side of the spell. So you know what it does, and now I do too, because -- " You point to your face. <br/>
<br/>
"So you know how it scared the piss out of me," he says. He's very pale -- but Braydon's face is naturally pale anyway -- and his breath comes out in a frightened hiss.<br/>
<br/>
"Why's that?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks around. "Because of what someone could do with it," he says very softly.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean what <i>you</i> could do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
Panic and horror are not a good look for Braydon's face. "I'm not going to do anything with it! And I don't want anyone else making up that stuff and -- Are you going to tell the other guys about that spell?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't decided yet."<br/>
<br/>
And you haven't decided. Christian is right to be frightened. The paste is basically a portable golem. If you paint it inside a mask and set it onto a person, the person goes to sleep under the mask, and is replaced by a golem that acts like the person who is copied into the mask. It's a way of temporarily turning people into golems, so you can hang enslaved masked onto them.<br/>
<br/>
Nastier: Someone armed with such a paste could use it to kidnap and hide other people, trapping them under masks of themselves that would be under his control, the way you and Braydon replaced Chen and Kirkham with golem-copies of themselves.<br/>
<br/>
Only this method of replacement is lot easier to pull off. And because it's only temporary, it's a lot more tempting.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, don't tell them anything," Christian exclaims. "Especially not Braydon. Oh, Jesus!" His eyes pop. "Oh, fuck! Except you just did! This fucking mask!" He grabs his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Relax, Braydon doesn't put it on after someone's been wearing it. He doesn't want to remember what Call and them did to me while I was wearing it."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" He turns very shrewd. "Funny how I don't have his memories but you've got mine."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I pick 'em up quicker than you. But why don't you want me to tell Braydon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, Will, you've been hanging out with him. And don't you remember what I told you, that he's the one I can imagine getting into real trouble with this stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"The more people who know," you retort, "the less chance someone could go crazy with it."<br/>
<br/>
He flashes you a sour, spiteful look. "Like me?"<br/>
<br/>
The truth is that you can't really imagine Christian going crazy. But you've caused  him so much trouble -- and proven yourself to be more than a little untrustworthy -- that you can't quite reassure yourself that he won't go crazy against <i>you</i> in order to protect himself. But if you tell him that you don't trust him, that might be just the thing to tip him over into doing something.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I don't think you'd go crazy," you tell him. "Only it would be nice if we had some -- Well, some insurance against guys going crazy."<br/>
<br/>
"How would we insure against that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Get rid of the book?"<br/>
<br/>
His mouth becomes very firm. "I want to find a way to bring Chen back."<br/>
<br/>
Your face naturally falls into one of Christian's most skeptical expressions. "Fine, I'll pretend to believe that's why you want to keep it. But we put the book in a neutral place, and it only comes out when both of us are there and we can work on it together." An inspiration takes you. "The old elementary school by my house. I have the key to the door, and you still have the key to the desk. We'll keep it in there. That way it needs both of us to get to it."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that could work," he says. "And I'll give up larping, since I don't want anyone else getting into my mask and learning what -- In fact, how about let's go find a bathroom, and switch back for the rest of the day. I'm suddenly sick of other people being me."<br/>
<br/>
You don't blame him, particularly. So you sneak back into A wing, and in adjoining stalls change your clothes out, and then exchange masks under the partitions.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're checking your hair -- Braydon's hair -- and eyeliner in the mirror about ten minutes later when, to your surprise, Christian emerges from his stall. He's rubbing his eyes. "What happened to you?" you ask. "I thought you'd gone before I woke up."<br/>
<br/>
"I put my mask on, to get the memories out." He leans forward to study himself in the mirror, and adjusts his glasses. "Jesus, Will, you sure fucked me up with Bethany," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Besides, I was acting in character as you."<br/>
<br/>
"Gee, thanks for telling me I'm a jerk," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
Christian's complaint for some reason reminds you of that girl who snuck into his bedroom the same day you snuck into it to get the grimoire. "Okay, let me make it up to you this way," you tell him. "You know that girl who lives next door to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Meg Murphy?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's got red hair, goes to Agape? Yeah. Anyway, she's hot for you."<br/>
<br/>
Christian glares murder. "The fuck are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm serious. Don't ask me how I know, but I know." You lean casually against the sink. "I saw and heard her doing something that day I broke into your house to copy that spell."<br/>
<br/>
Christian's eyes narrow. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to say, but she would totally suck your cock, I'm sure of that."<br/>
<br/>
Christian thrusts a middle finger in your face.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't believe me?" you retort. "Ask her. Well, not to suck your -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You want me to humiliate myself," he says flatly.<br/>
<br/>
"Then let <i>me</i> ask her out. With your mask. You can come along under another mask and watch if you want. You can wear Braydon's. Do it now, as long as we've got it with us.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, we just switched back."<br/>
<br/>
"So we'll switch again when we get to your house. You do like her, right? Meg?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's alright," Christian says, and his face pinches up.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, if you're not interested in -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright! Christ!" He returns your grin with a glower. "You know, you sure are good at larping as Braydon," he says. "You've got his whole look, his whole ... <i>thing</i> ... down."<br/>
<br/>
You arch your eyebrows at the compliment, and look at your reflection. He's right: The mirror returns Braydon's cool, amused gaze.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Gillian's wearing a frown when she finds you at Braydon's locker after the final bell has rung. "Thanks for keeping me up to date on where you are, Will," she snaps in a low voice as she sidles up. "I went to talk to Christian, thinking he was you."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart seizes up for no good reason you can think of. "What did you say to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing. Just asked him if he'd been to see Bethany, and that Braydon was waiting for him in the parking lot. He told me to come find -- " She looks you up down. "To come find you."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so what does Braydon want with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"To switch back, I assume." That frown turns into a sly smile. "Though I think I'd kind of like to double the attention I usually get from my hubby."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sproing.</i> "Yeah, well, um, I'm supposed to go over to Christian's, and take Braydon's mask with me," you stammer. "We've got a little project that -- "<br/>
<br/>
"So talk to my hubby about it, it's his thingamajig." She raises up and kisses you on the nose. "I'll be thinking of him, though, which means as long as you're wearing the thingamajig, I'll be thinking of you too." She steps back into the surging crowd, and gives you a coquettish look over her shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
Braydon is hunched in the foot well of his car when you find him, and he remains huddled there even after you've got in. "So how did it go?" he asks. <br/>
<br/>
"Terrific, I guess," you say. "Andrea wound up yelling at me, and Bethany ran off crying. But it was Christian they were upset with, so -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Sweet!" Braydon laughs. "And Gillian told me Christian found out what you were doing, so he's going to be extra pissed at you."<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I'm going to make it up to him by helping him with his next-door neighbor. And I need your mask to make it work. I won't get you in trouble, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," he says. Then, very coolly, he adds, "Did you find out anything while you were being Christian?"</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212231111121311
author_id: seuzz
title: The New Trio
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Something about the way Braydon says it catches your attention: "Did you find out anything else while you were being Christian?" It's like he knows the answer to the question before he's even asked it.<br/>
<br/>
You were honest with Christian about today's larping, so maybe you should be honest with Braydon about what you found in Christian's mask. And maybe the book would be safer if there were three keys -- not two -- guarding it.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I found out what the next spell in the book is," you tell him. You briefly describe the paste and what it does, and Braydon listens without looking very surprised or alarmed, even after you've shared your own misgivings about it. "We're going to lock the book up in the elementary school," you tell him. "We're only going to take it out while it's the two of us, in order to try getting deeper in so we can find a way to fix Chen. Uh, and Kirkham."<br/>
<br/>
"Just the two of you?" Braydon says, and his eyebrows go up. "I think I should be in on this too."<br/>
<br/>
"Why's that?" you demand, even though you shared this news with him only because you wanted him to have a third key to the book.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I know something about magic, and this torn page sounds like something you might need magic to get past," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, maybe," you say. "And if you're working on it too, then we can use the footlocker, set it up so we need three keys to get to the book, the way we were doing with those masks. I'll talk to Christian about it when I go see him. Speaking of which, I need to change and get over there."<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on." Braydon gently clutches your elbow. "What are you helping him with?" His eyes light up when you explain you're going to use Christian's mask to ask his next-door neighbor out while Christian watches from under Braydon's mask.<br/>
<br/>
"You should let me do it," he tells you. "Let me be the guy under hismask."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos I've actually asked girls out before," he says with a soft laugh. You're insulted, but you see the virtue in what he says next: "Besides, I'd like to do him a favor."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm supposed to be the one who does it, to make up for the larping I did today, but you can come along at least."<br/>
<br/>
"No, let me just cover for you," he insists. He points at you. "Give me my face, I'll go take care of it. You can go home or something."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going along too," you tell him firmly. "We all three would need to talk about the keys."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," he says. "Well, how about you go home and get your mask, then meet us up at his place. I was just thinking -- " He cocks his head. "This paste he made, it might be a way to keep people from getting into each other's masks."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you figure that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you say that paste turns people into golems. So if Christian put that stuff inside his mask, then whoever put it on would become a golem. So then they couldn't get into his mask, couldn't larp as him, couldn't get into his head."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if we made up some of that paste using our own hair, and put that paste in our masks, then they couldn't get into our masks and into our memories. If anyone put our masks on, they'd turn into golems, the same as with Christian's mask. Except those golems would have to obey us instead of Christian."<br/>
<br/>
Christian's own understanding of the masks and they way this new sealant works has faded from your head, but you still retain enough of it that you think you understand what Braydon means.<br/>
<br/>
"So," he says, "while we're up there, we should all three of us seal up our masks so that no one else can get inside them anymore." He smiles crookedly. "You and I have stuff in our heads that we don't want other people to accidentally find out about, right? And Christian's feeling the same way now, you said."<br/>
<br/>
That makes sense to you, and you agree. So you slouch down in your seat and pull Braydon's mask off your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's another twenty-five minutes before you get home, and then your mother catches and delays you with a trip to the grocery store. You shoot Christian a quick text telling him you'll be late. He replies as you're pulling into the store parking lot: <i>ok. meg not here, do it l8er</i><br/>
<br/>
You: <i>is braydon there?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>yes, talked, all ok. lets meet @skool 2nite, 8?</i><br/>
<br/>
That's agreeable to you, though you wonder a little at how quickly Christian has gone along with Braydon joining up. He made such a stink about not wanting Braydon to know about the new spell. Is he actually pissed off? Or was all that stuff he said about Braydon just a lot of bullshit, something to talk you into keeping the new spell a closely kept secret?<br/>
<br/>
You plunge into the schoolwork when you get back from the store, so that you'll have a clear evening to meet with them.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Both of them are waiting for you outside the elementary school when you get there a little after eight, their faces masked in the lowering dusk. "So what happened to that girl?" you ask Christian. "Meg?"<br/>
<br/>
"She wasn't around," he says as he hops off the trunk of his car. "Forget about her, it's not such a big deal."<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, man," you retort. "Have you got so many lined up that you can just ignore this one? I'm serious. She has it bad for you."<br/>
<br/>
"What is it that you saw that's got you saying that?" Christian demands.<br/>
<br/>
Braydon interrupts. "Never mind, we'll do that thing this weekend," he says. "Will, you got the key?"<br/>
<br/>
You do, and you unlock it and usher people down. You have to stumble through the darkened basement until you can find a dim table lamp, and the three of you cluster around the desk where you'd hidden the masks. Christian had collected the other keys from the other guys, so he is able to unlock the desk, and he gives Braydon a key to the footlocker that had held the masks. "We spent a little time looking at the book when we couldn't find Meg," Christian says. "Braydon says he thinks there's a magic trick involved, but I don't see it. I think someone vandalized the book."<br/>
<br/>
He's got the grimoire, and he opens it to show to you. You still have a fuzzy memory left over from your time in his mask, so you're not surprised by what you see, but the sight of the actual page brings it back vividly.<br/>
<br/>
The bottom half of the right-hand page has been completely torn away. All that remains is a list of ingredients; there is no sigil. Instead, you can see the bottom half of the spell that follows.<br/>
<br/>
Not that it does you any good. You can hardly stand to look at it.<br/>
<br/>
It's alive -- or at least it looks as if it's alive, as though it is covered with a squirming snarl of worms and baby snakes. Black lines twist and wriggle over the page, and the colors shiver and shimmy. The torn page is still locked down, and will remain locked down until the spell it describes is performed, and whatever magic that keeps each page locked has made the spell behind it unreadable. And without a sigil, there seems little chance of performing the spell on the locked page so as to get at the spells beyond.<br/>
<br/>
You tear your eyes from the grimoire before it can give you a headache. "You got any ideas, man?" you ask Braydon. He shakes his head. "Then why do you think there's a magic solution?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, how do you tear a page if you can't turn it?" he says. "I think someone must have used magic to tear it."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Maybe, but that doesn't mean that magic will fix it.<br/>
<br/>
"Also it looks like there's a clue here." He taps at the last line on the torn page. "Mostly those are ingredients, but this one isn't."<br/>
<br/>
"What is it, what does it say?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure, I'm not good enough at the Latin," says Braydon. "But I'm going to ask Mr. Leavey tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
You remain skeptical. "What do you think?" you ask Christian.<br/>
<br/>
He seems to freeze. "It all makes sense to me," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's worth investigating, at least," says Braydon.<br/>
<br/>
He's right, of course. "Is there anything else we need to talk about?" you ask. Glances are exchanged, and when no one suggests any new business, Braydon puts the book in the footlocker and locks it, then Christian puts the footlocker in the desk and locks it, and the three of you go upstairs, where you lock the door. There's an awkward moment as everyone stands around waiting for someone to speak, then with stiff farewells you each return to your cars.<br/>
<br/>
Braydon pulls out first, then Christian second. You take up the rear, and after a moment's thought, you flash your beams at Christian after Braydon has turned a corner and disappeared. You have to flash them a second time before Christian pulls over. You park behind him, and run up to his window, which he's rolled down. "Are you okay with this?" you ask him anxiously. "I mean, with Braydon knowing about the book and that spell and all."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," Christian says. "He can really help us out. He's got more experience with this kind of stuff than the rest of us do."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," you say slowly. "Uh, isn't that why you didn't -- " But you break off. You're the one who told Braydon about it, so why are you raising a stink now. "I just wanted to make sure you're not upset or anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, everything's fine," says Christian. "Anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
It's dark enough now that you can't really make out his expression, but he sounds sincere, so you shake your head and return to your truck.</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122311111213111
author_id: seuzz
title: Single Player Head Games
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Back home, with that grimoire business out of the way, you're free to turn your thoughts back to Bethany, and what you're going to do about her. But you have a very hard time concentrating, and it isn't because of the subtle surges you feel down south of the equator. Mostly it's the palpitations you feel in your gut and chest as you ponder the situation. You realize as you lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, that you've spent the day avoiding thinking about it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've not had a lot of luck with girls. Partly, it's because of an early sexual shock. Not long after moving up into the high school, you met a girl at a summer camp who you thought was pretty cute, and tried to hang out with her. She seemed okay with that, but not seriously enthusiastic -- until two nights before the end of camp, when you were walking along with her in a secluded spot behind one of the bunkhouses. To your immense surprise she abruptly pushed you to the ground, said she knew what you wanted, and took your shorts down long enough to get her mouth around your cock -- and for your cock to respond. You barely stifled a yell, and the session soon scattered at the sound of approaching footsteps. She seemed completely uninterested in trying it again the next day, and you were too shocked and weirded out to even talk to her about it.<br/>
<br/>
At least you can technically claim to have gotten a blowjob.<br/>
<br/>
It left no lasting scars on your psyche, other than a certain jumpiness that afflicted you all your junior year when girls were around -- not because you were afraid of being assaulted, but because the incident left you with the impression that only a very strange girl indeed would be interested in being your girlfriend. But it was a rough year all around anyway.<br/>
<br/>
Only at the end did you decide that it was stupid to let that one goofball incident at camp ruin the chance of a high school romance, so you started hanging out with Lisa Yarborough.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mm, Lisa.</i> You've been way too distracted by Gillian -- and Bethany -- recently to think so much about your first great love. And the pang doesn't hit you as hard now as it was hitting you just a few weeks ago.<br/>
<br/>
It started at just the end of the your junior year. You'd known Lisa for a couple of years, and had always liked looking at her. She has long, brunette hair that she wears in gentle, natural curls; limpid eyes; a grave and quiet manner; and if she's not a curvaceous and athletic cheerleader type, she has pillow-like curves and an enveloping softness that naturally invite fantasies about putting your arms around her. And she smelled wonderful.<br/>
<br/>
And Lisa was normal. Lisa was so normal that even normal girls looked jittery next to her. She was always placid, always calm, always soft-spoken -- Well, ninety-nine percent of the time, for she was also capable of cussing hard, as you found out once when a football player stepped on her foot while pushing through a crowded hallway. But she was otherwise unflappable. And while it was very hard to imagine her giving you -- or anyone -- a blow job, it was very easy to imagine her sighing contentedly in your arms while laying next to you in a hammock or in a swing or in the back of your truck.<br/>
<br/>
So you started hanging out with her more, and calling her up to go places with her and hanging out with her and her friends. School ended and summer came, and you saw her at least once a week at the start, and then more and more frequently as the summer passed. She seemed a natural companion for the season, for she liked to dress in cool white frocks and sit on the grass under trees. One of the nicest days you ever spent was with her in July, on a day when a cold wave held the temperature below ninety, and you went to the park to sit in the shade with your arms entwined to do some summer reading. You bought snow cones from a vendor and sucked down the flavored ices and smiled at each other, and after an hour of working up your nerve you leaned over to kiss her on the top of her head. She'd looked up with a quizzical smile, then rubbed the side her head against your cheek and you almost passed out from happiness.<br/>
<br/>
And then she dumped you for Geoff Mansfield while telling you that she wasn't dumping you because you'd never even been dating in the first place.<br/>
<br/>
Well, forget all of that. Because now you've got Bethany in your sights, and you are <i>not</i> going to let her pretend you're not dating, because you're going to make well and sure that she knows you are.<br/>
<br/>
If you actually work up the nerve to ask her.<br/>
<br/>
And if she actually is interested in you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Bethany's eyes lighting up when she saw "you" -- that is, Darrell disguised as you -- as you came up to her at the mall. Bethany laughing at "your" jokes and antics, and conversing enthusiastically about whatever "you" were talking about. Bethany rolling her tongue around "yours" when you kissed in the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
All that seems to indicate that she does you, but is it an "I'd like to date you" kind of liking, or is it just an "I'd like to hang out and be dumb with you" kind of liking, like that girl at camp did with you? Because as awesome as it would be to get a real, full-on, uninterrupted blow job, you're more in the market for a girlfriend -- especially if it's a really cute girlfriend like Bethany -- than for an on-again, off-again tease.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe Bethany is really freaked out by you? She kept disappearing on you this week, and she got really upset when, in the guise of Christian, you talked to her at lunch. What if she freaks out with you, and you freak out with her, and all your freaking out feeds on each other?<br/>
<br/>
You rub your eyes and look at the clock: a little after ten. You haven't been obsessing long, but long enough to realize that obsessing over it is going to be the worst hurdle to get over. You should just call her and talk to her -- No, wait until tomorrow, then go find her, and -- No, you should --<br/>
<br/>
And there you go, instantly obsessing again over how to game things out. You need to get out of your own head.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh. sure. And if you went out of your own mind, whose mind shouldyou  -- </i><br/>
<br/>
You leap and flail like a dog that's just woken itself from a nightmare. Those brain-bands, the ones that copy other people's minds!<br/>
<br/>
That day Christian caught you larping as Darrell, which led to your larping ban: You were going up there to talk to him about maybe making a brain-band without a mask, and wearing it so you could have someone else's memories and personality and instincts without having their appearance. You'd forgotten about that idea!<br/>
<br/>
If you got out of your own mind -- or got someone else's into your own -- someone who doesn't freak out around girls -- that would at least get you over the hard part with Bethany.<br/>
<br/>
So excited are you by this idea that you text Christian to set up a meeting with him tomorrow. He says he can meet you fifth period, when he has study hall and you have lunch.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend the first half of the next day eyeballing possible "brain donors" for your plan. After briefly toying with the idea that a girl's brain would help you understand Bethany better -- and rejecting it because you're afraid that you'd start channeling a feminine personality a little too obviously -- you concentrate on the guys.<br/>
<br/>
First period has an interesting mix: If Geoff Mansfield's smooth manner got him Lisa, maybe it could get you Bethany. But he's such an odious asshole that you quickly reject him. Dean Stratton? He hasn't got a girlfriend that you know of, but he sports the kind of "cool" look and attitude that maybe could help you coast through turbulence. Unless it's an act.<br/>
<br/>
You're pretty sure that Laurent Delacroix, captain of the wrestling squad, isn't just pretending to be cocky and confident, not when he's got a hard, strong body to be cocky and confident about, but you might look funny strutting around like you're 170 pounds of taut muscle.<br/>
<br/>
Second period -- Film as Literature -- has a more bohemian mix. Tim Gerard, who by reputation gets lots of action on account of his dreamy eyes and soft manner, is the only real choice there, and he's surely got the experience that would do you good with Bethany.<br/>
<br/>
Third period is full of losers and reptiles.<br/>
<br/>
Fourth period has Laurent again, and also Erik Carstairs, a football player with a reputation as a player. Braydon is in there too, and you nod at him, and he nods back with a secret smile. Braydon is another possibility, and you could straight-up ask him for a copy of his brain without having to ambush anyone.<br/>
<br/>
And Bethany is in there too, having returned from a couple of absences. She gives you a shy, sidelong smile, but it looks like there's pain behind it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Christian pushes up his glasses and rubs his eyes. "This is an interesting idea," he tells you after you've pitched it to him. "Not one I can confess to having had. But are you sure you want to roleplay as someone else when you ask Bethany out? What happens when you're going steady? Assuming," he adds with just a trace of acidic sarcasm, "that you do wind up going steady."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I take off the band and just be myself."<br/>
<br/>
That eyebrow arches sharply. "And what if you can't keep it going after you've lost your crutch? Wouldn't you be better off being yourself from the start?"</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223111112131113
author_id: seuzz
title: Multiplayer Head Games
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So who in our class is good with girls?"<br/>
<br/>
Your question -- blurted out thoughtlessly because it was scratching at the forefront of your brain, lands in the middle of the lunchtime crowd like a stink bomb. Keith Tilley actually scuttles back a foot from you.<br/>
<br/>
You didn't linger with Christian long, and after telling him you'd be around later to talk some more about it, you'd gone looking for company while eating your brown-bag lunch. You found Keith and Caleb hanging out with Carson's crew at their usual spot close to A wing.<br/>
<br/>
Lin Pol had been eating with them Tuesday -- the day you went off to find Bethany that first time -- but today she's gone and Yumi Saito has taken her place. And it's Yumi who replies to your question as Carson, James, Jenny, Paul, Caleb, and Keith all exchange glances of amusement and worry: "Good at doing what with girls?"<br/>
<br/>
Only now do you realize how embarrassing that question was. "I only mean, like, talking to them," you stammer. "Like, making them laugh, making them, um -- " Your face heats up so rapidly you think it might spontaneously combust. "Making them like them."<br/>
<br/>
Carson and James snicker. Paul frowns and his eyebrows arch with worry. Keith gapes. Caleb facepalms.<br/>
<br/>
Only Jenny and Yumi seem to treat the question seriously, though Yumi snorts with contempt. "Show me a guy who's good at making a girl like him," she says, "and I'll show you a guy who doesn't go to Westside." She takes a hard bite of her apple.<br/>
<br/>
"So why do you hang around with us, girlfriend?" Carson drawls.<br/>
<br/>
"Because at least you don't irritate me."<br/>
<br/>
"If I made you itch, would you let me scratch you there?" Carson asks. Yumi snarls back at him, and he laughs silently.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, forget I said anything," you mumble as you dig into your paper bag for the sandwich.<br/>
<br/>
"Does this have anything to do Bethany?" Jenny asks, and you hate the way the rest of the group suddenly freezes in place. "Have you talked to her since the other day?"<br/>
<br/>
You hang your head, and that blush, which had started to fade, flares up again. "A little," you mumble. <br/>
<br/>
"So you should go talk to her now," says Jenny. "You're just making everything worse by -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, get the fuck out of here, Prescott," Carson hoots. "We don't want any lovesick cows mooing and mooning around -- " He gasps as Jenny slaps him on the knee.<br/>
<br/>
"So then why you asking about guys who are good at -- God!" Yumi sighs through her nose and glares darkly at you, as though you'd asked for tips on the proper way to achieve anal penetration. <br/>
<br/>
"He's looking for tips on improving his game," says James Lamont with casual insolence.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Will," says Jenny, and Yumi's lip curls.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like that!" you exclaim. "I'm just thinking -- Look, I get nervous around girls, okay? Don't you?" You're looking at Jenny and Yumi when you say that, so you quickly look over at Carson and Caleb for support. <br/>
<br/>
Yeah, that's how desperate you are. They're more likely to gleefully kick the emotional struts out from under you.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny half smiles. "Do you get nervous around me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not a girl, Ashton," says Carson.<br/>
<br/>
Three seconds later he's on his feet, sprinting hard, with Jenny chasing him. They disappear around the music wing.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't try to get a 'game', Will," says Yumi, and though her tone is grim, she says it more kindly than she's said anything else.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want a 'game'," you mumble. "Anyway, it's not like I could pick up a 'game' by watching anyone. I just want -- "<br/>
<br/>
No, you do want a 'game', but you'd settle for just not pissing yourself, and that's what you say.<br/>
<br/>
James's face shows a glow of amused pity, and Caleb returns his palm to his face. "I just want to see how someone acts when they act cool and relaxed around a girl," you improvise. "If I could at least <i>act</i> that way, even if I don't feel like it."<br/>
<br/>
"So <i>act</i> that way," Caleb explodes, rousing himself. "Jesus, why do you have to make yourself so -- " But he's interrupted by Yumi, who leaps to her feet -- she's short, so it's not a high jump -- and pulls at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on," she says. "Come with me," and says nothing else as you stagger up and follow her across the quad in the direction of the student parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Caleb is right," she says in a very clipped way, but all the anger and impatience has drained from her voice. "If you want to act cool, just act cool. But I know you, Will, and I know what you're worried about. You're worried about being tongue-tied. Who are we talking about?" and a little of that earlier irritation comes back into her voice. "Who are you trying to impress?"<br/>
<br/>
"Bethany Lewis," you say in an almost inaudible voice, and it mortifies you to have to repeat it in a louder voice.<br/>
<br/>
Your knees almost buckle when Yumi nods. "Oh, don't worry," she says. "You'll get along with her great. She likes to laugh."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" That is your Darrell-derived memory of her, too.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but you don't know what to talk about, and if you try to make her laugh you'll come on too strong. I mean, I'm not trying to give you something to worry about," she hurriedly adds. "I just know you."<br/>
<br/>
Christ, are you <i>that</i> transparent?<br/>
<br/>
"Look, if you don't know what to talk about, one thing is to just let her talk. You are interested in her, aren't you? I mean, it's not just a physical thing, is it?" She pauses in mid-stride to give you a penetrating stare.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I mean, sure. Uh, actually I don't really know her so I haven't really talked to her. Except, sort of I have." You return Yumi's incredulous stare with an embarrassed one of your own. "Don't ask me <i>that,</i>" you whine.<br/>
<br/>
With another soft snort she starts marching again, and since she is a quick-moving cheerleader despite her short legs, you have to hustle to keep pace with her.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't tell you how to act with 'girls'," she says, "because it's not like we're all the same. Different girls like different things. I can tell you some of the things I like, though." Again she whirls on you, and you jump back a step as she jumps at you. "And that's why we're taking this walk away from Carson and James, and don't you fucking say one goddamn word about this to them." A flare like sheet lightning snows in her dark eyes. "I don't especially have a thing for Alec Brown, but he's a guy who doesn't irritate me, and anytime we've ever hung out at parties, well, I just like it." A pink blush comes into her pie-pan cheekbones. "He's quiet and he listens and he asks questions, and he <i>relaxes.</i> He doesn't put the moves on girls, and he doesn't show off." She gives you a quick, critical look up and down. "I don't know if you can relax, Will," she says. "I sometimes think you're all made of rubber bands, but that's something you could try. Relax and let her do the work."<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
She sets off walking again, and you've reached the drama wing by now and are circling around it, along the sidewalk between it and the parking lot. "Okay, someone else who isn't stupid is Andy Tackett. You know him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I've even got him in a class."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, have you ever watched him at a party?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't go to parties. Well, not a lot."<br/>
<br/>
"So how about you try? Even Carson and James go to parties, and you're not going to get laid if all you do is -- Wait, forget I said anything about you getting laid, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
You stifle your resentment at what sounds like a diss.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, Andy's good at talking, and he's funny, but he doesn't <i>try</i> to be funny, okay? He's relaxed about it and just lets the funny come. Like Brownie lets the -- Okay, the way he lets his thing come." A sideways glance shows that that the pink has come back into her face. <br/>
<br/>
"So you see what I'm saying, Will?" She stops again, at the entrance to the breezeway between the drama wing and the gym, with her hand on her hips. "Just relax. It's something girls notice. Or I notice, because no one will accuse me of not being a girl. At the very least, for God's sake, don't freak out. If Bethany bites you, it'll all be in fun."<br/>
<br/>
You can't help jumping a little at that. "Okay," you stammer. "Relax, don't worry if she bites me, let things come naturally." Yumi nods. "Anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head. "You can go back now."<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't you coming?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm going to wait here for Carson and Jenny." She looks around the corner. "They're probably coming this way, and if they do, I'm going to tackle Carson so Jenny can pound him."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Yumi means well, and you're grateful for her advice, but you don't take her suggestions as guides to your ultimate plans for copying a brain. But she does give you some focus.<br/>
<br/>
Her suggestion that you look for someone who is good at relaxing around a girl makes you think again of Tim Gerard. Her comment about making the girl laugh, meanwhile, makes you think of Darrell, who already showed he has some talent for amusing Bethany and who did it while pretending to be you.<br/>
<br/>
And while walking with Yumi you saw a third and very likely candidate trudging along out of the cafeteria with his head down: Justin Roth, who is so cool and relaxed he is practically comatose, and who has already practically confessed to having gotten up close and personal with Bethany.</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212231111121311133
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Widening Vistas of Possibility
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>After school lets out, you drive out to the old elementary school: you'd already made plans to meet Braydon and Christian there in order to make your masks snoop-proof. Christian is the first to arrive, and he surprises you by telling you that Braydon won't be coming: "But he gave me his key so we can get into the footlocker."<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't we set it up so it would take three of us to get to the grimoire?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but he can't make it today. Something about girlfriend maintenance." Christian rolls his eyes. "So we'll seal up his mask later, but he told me to go ahead and take care of you."<br/>
<br/>
So into the basement you go. Christian brought along the supplies for making that paste, and you're pleased to see it doesn't take long. He only has to pour the ingredients into a bowl, add a snippet of your hair, and set the stuff on fire over the sigil in the book. <br/>
<br/>
"You decide anything about using someone else's brain with Bethany?" Christian asks, and his caustic tone tells you he still disapproves of the idea.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to use Justin Roth's," you mumble as you dip a brush into the thin, paste-like goop and slide it across the inside of your mask. Where it touches the mask it covers the polished blue surface with a gray-white finish. "He's, uh, hung out with her before."<br/>
<br/>
Christian sighs through his nose. "Well, okay," he says. Then he perks up. "But you know, as long as you're doing that -- " He rummages through the bag of supplies. "Dammit, I haven't got any -- Can you wait here while I run an errand? We should make up the band for you to use while we're here, and I don't have the stuff for it."<br/>
<br/>
"You're coming right back? You don't have an RPG session today?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told Darrell to accidentally cast a sleeping spell on my character." He crooks long, slim fingers around the word "accidentally." "To keep Howie from getting into a snit over my not being there." He dashes up the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It takes him an hour to get back, which you put to good use by doing some homework. Your mom texts back in reply to your query that she doesn't need you home until six-thirty for supper, so you're able to get most of the basics done on the new mind-band once Christian is back. He delivers a second surprise of the afternoon when he starts carving a second mind-band, and also casts a fresh mask. "You might as well go all in," he tells you when you stare at him queerly. He cocks one eyebrow, and winks under the other. "You can get a mask of Justin while you're at it."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't need a mask of Justin," you protest. "I just want a copy of -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I know what you want, Will, I'm just saying we can get a dividend. Get a mask of him to go with the other masks."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you hid those away so we wouldn't use them!"<br/>
<br/>
"I only locked them away, I didn't get rid of them." Christian frowns. "We might get back into them some day, and a mask of Justin might be something someone wants." He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know how to argue with that, and you're mostly silent as you and he work on the mind bands. You don't finish before you need to go home, and you each take your work home with you. You're putting the final touches onto the band later that night when your dad calls you downstairs. Braydon is at the front door, and he gestures you outside.<br/>
<br/>
"Christian asked me to come by and give this to you," he says, and presses a plastic sack into your hands. You can tell by the shape and feel that it holds a mask. "He said you were going to use it on Justin Roth?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't decided," you stammer. "What I mean is -- " You shut the front door and pull Braydon over to a dark spot at the corner of the house. "I made up one of those bands that copies a person's memories and stuff?" You explain your plan to copy Justin's brain, and why. "And Christian said something about making a mask of Justin while I was at it."<br/>
<br/>
"So you should totally do that while you've got a chance," Braydon says.<br/>
<br/>
"Thing is, I thought Christian said we weren't going to go larping as anyone except each other! And we're not even going to go larping as each other -- you and me and Christian, I mean, after what we did to our masks!"<br/>
<br/>
"So maybe Christian will change his mind," says Braydon. "He's seeming a lot more cool about the stuff we're doing now, right? Like, he's not mad at you for wanting to basically larp as Justin, is he? Even though he told you he didn't want you larping anymore?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess," you have to admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell you what," says Braydon. "I'll even talk to him about us larping, just the three of us, with those masks we made of the other guys. You know, Erik and Dane and them, since we can't larp as each other. If he says it's okay, that'll show he's all okay with you again. And you know -- " He shrugs awkwardly. "We can have some fun together."<br/>
<br/>
You draw a deep breath. "Okay. But just make sure he knows it's your idea, not mine."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon smiles, and squeezes your arm. "Sure thing, Will. Oh," he adds. "Did Christian tell you I talked to Mr. Leavey about that Latin phrase in the book? Yeah, he translated it as something like 'Use me to solve me'. There's nothing else in the grimoire, in any of the other spells, that's like that, you know? It's all just lists of ingredients and how to assemble them."<br/>
<br/>
"If you say so. But what does that mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. But it makes me pretty sure there's some kind of riddle mixed up in it. I don't think that page was torn on accident." With that enigmatic suggestion, he leaves you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend the next morning preoccupied with figuring out how you're going to ambush Roth. In fact, on your way into first period Sociology, you are giving serious thought to ambushing someone else -- anyone else -- if they prove a more convenient target. You want to talk to Bethany -- it's Friday, and if you don't make a serious move in her direction today, you're afraid it's going to look like you're not really interested in her. But there's no way to ambush anyone in first period, so you spend the class time nervously anticipating how you're going to find Roth.<br/>
<br/>
The best way is to just search for him. He was skipping eighth period yesterday. Does he skip other periods? You can afford to be late to your own second period class, so you make a circuit of the school to try finding him.<br/>
<br/>
And you're just on your way back from the portables when you spot him trudging out toward them.<br/>
<br/>
He's walking slowly and deliberately, head down, as though the ground were a minefield and he's picking his way carefully through it. He doesn't react to your shouts, and it's not until you're almost upon him that he raises his head in response to his name. "Are you skipping this period?" you ask him. "Can you hang out and talk?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," he says. "What? Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Just the two of us?"<br/>
<br/>
His expression is inscrutable behind his shades. But he appears to stare at you, then he turns slowly around to gaze at the school grounds. "You want to go where?"<br/>
<br/>
"The music wing?"<br/>
<br/>
He ponders this. "I'll follow," he says at last.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is he stoned?</i> That would be convenient. You set off toward that wing of the school, looking behind you as he slowly follows, his eyes still cast toward the ground.<br/>
<br/>
At the corner of the music building you and he stare at each other, and he keeps to his feet even after you've slid to the grass. Very slowly he sits too, with his backpack still on, and hunches his shoulders. "You wanna get a little more relaxed, take a load off?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Load?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Christ, he must be baked.</i> You put your hands on his pack, to pull it off --<br/>
<br/>
And he hits you. Hard.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, man! I'm just trying to help!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Justin drawls. "I'm not really, uh -- " He suddenly tears his sunglasses off, and rubs his eyes deeply.<br/>
<br/>
In a flash you see this as your chance. Whatever chemicals have him messed up would cover what you're planning to do. You quickly slip the metal band out of your pocket, and slam it crookedly onto his forehead as he drops his hands. His eyes widen, go out of focus, and he falls to the side. You grab the straps of his pack and pull him back into a quasi-sitting position. After you've got his sunglasses back on him, he just looks like he's slumped sleepily against the wall.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
For a quarter hour you keep him company, as first the lone mind-band and then the mask do their work on him. When you've collected them, you put the mask back into your pack and the band into your pocket, then hurry off to class. Mr. Hawks gives you a very cold look when you come in, but only resumes his lecture after a long pause at your interruption.<br/>
<br/>
Every time you shift in your desk, you feel the band in your pocket. It makes you nervous. Justin seemed to be acting like he was stoned or drunk or something. Will the mind-band have copied that too? What will happen if he was stoned, and you put it on?<br/>
<br/>
If you don't put it on, though, you'll have to go see Bethany under your own power -- or you'll have to postpone seeing her at all.</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122311111213111331
author_id: seuzz
title: The Matter of Justin Roth's Mind
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You went through the trouble of making the damned mind-band, so you might as well use it. Besides, unless Justin was in really bad shape, you'll be able to take it off again if there's any trouble with it.<br/>
<br/>
So when class is over, you hurry out to find a secluded spot where you can put the mind-strip on. You're sure it won't take you any time at all to get inside Justin's memories and personality, but you want to have a couple of hours inside his head to plan out what you're going to say and do when you see Bethany.<br/>
<br/>
You don't want to get caught unconscious in the library, and someone might still stumble onto you if went behind one of the wings or the portables. So although the restrooms are a dangerous place to lurk between classes, that's where you go. You find a stall, and wedge yourself between the toilet and the wall.<br/>
<br/>
Then you push a copy of Justin's mind into yours.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
How long you slump in the stall, staring at the puke-green door, you've no idea. A minute? An hour? A day? It's a suspended moment of time, whatever it is, a bubble holding you and a thin, throbbing moment. It's a green bubble, too. Green like the door of the toilet stall, and like the door of the toilet stall it pulses and breathes greenly. The universe is breathing, and you're breathing in time to it, because you <i>are</i> the universe, man.<br/>
<br/>
The bubble never pops, but it does gradually fade, and with a splintered recollection of your presence -- you are here, and it is now, and it is also then, and it will be then too, when you are there, which is sometimes here -- you stiffly shift your limbs. A toilet stall. You're in a toilet stall. You're slouched on the cold floor of tile. The floor is cold and wet, and it slides wetly beneath your palms. A shiver rattles you. There's piss all over the floor and it's sliding around like a flat, wriggling worm. You scramble halfway to your feet to get away from it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh God.</i> Justin's brain. It's like dried blood, or like dried, sticky shit. It's seeped into all the crevices of your brain and it's stuck there, like little dried-up rivulets of bloody pus and bloody shit and bloody mud. You dig at your scalp, trying to get it out. It's inside you and -- <br/>
<br/>
You throw your head back, bumping your head on the wall, and gasp. <i>It's just a flashback, man,</i> you remind yourself. They don't come on that often, but you did acid last weekend and sometimes you get these echoes, that's all, don't freak out, don't think that your heart is a chestburster trying to hammer its way out through your ribcage. You had that experience on a trip once and --<br/>
<br/>
... This whole ordeal would probably have been a lot worse, you reflect later on, if you hadn't had your own sober brain as an anchor dragging you down to the cold, dead, depths of sobriety. But Justin's own instincts -- he's had lots of experience with these things -- help too. And the only reason it was immediately so bad, you reason out much later, is because you were coming up from a kind of sleep that was itself magical, and waking into a consciousness that married your own personality and memories with those of someone else.<br/>
<br/>
Which means that it could have been very bad indeed.<br/>
<br/>
As it is, it only takes some deep breathing exercises, and some cold water on your very pale face to banish the worst effects of the flashback you inadvertently copied. The world still twitches and jerks as you exit the bathroom, and you can't fully shake a very disquieting illusion -- that you are a virus and the universe is a galaxy-spanning whale, and that you are creeping around inside its twisting, irritated bowels -- but you find that by walking carefully and watching where you step you are able to get to your third period class without freaking out too hard.<br/>
<br/>
But it's also very easy to fall into an extraordinarily vivid reverie centering on a certain summer afternoon that the passenger inside your skull spent in the company of Bethany Lewis.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"Aren't you gonna swim?" Brianna Gould calls out to you. She's bobbing in the pool with her head back and her boobs out, and she slides a wet hand down her long, streaming hair.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm working on my tan!" you shout back from the deck chair. You're stripped to swimming trunks and sunglasses, and you can almost feel your skin darkening under the hot June sun.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll tan faster if you're wet," she calls back. "Don't you want to get wet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you like getting wet?" You grin.<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>am</i> wet," she shouts, and falls lazily backwards and does a few strokes. She almost instantly bumps into Andrew Harding, who is floating up behind her.<br/>
<br/>
It's not a big party -- only about thirty or so kids coming in and out of the house. It's Rebecca Sykes's house and pool, and she's inside running things or some shit like that while most of the guests are outside, shouting and laughing and splashing in the pool, or lounging next to it with a mix of colas and coolers and -- because her parents are out of town -- beers. You've got one of the latter now. You're only halfway through it, but you've left three empty bottles next to it.<br/>
<br/>
Brianna isn't the only girl that's flirted with you, and those flirtations are the main reason you've not gotten into the pool. The girls -- in their bikinis, with their bare limbs and shallow stomachs and torpedo-like breasts; and their smiles and their dripping hair and shining eyes; and their obvious come-ons -- have put your cock into a pleasantly engorged state, like a python that's eaten a pig and is dozing under the sun. If you got in the water, the shock would kill that very pleasant feeling.<br/>
<br/>
And while Brianna with a squeal disentangles herself from Andrew, you glance over as the sliding glass door opens and Bethany Lewis comes out.<br/>
<br/>
She's tied her long, buttery curls into a couple of braids and wrapped them around her head like a crown. It's not a very flattering look on her, but your eyes are on her tiny feet and her smooth legs, and on the aqua-colored Lycra swimsuit she's pasted on. No bikini for her -- she's a serious swimmer. But after one quick lap to the deep end of the pool, and a quick lap back to the shallow end, she gets out with water beading and streaming off her and goes to the other side of the pool, to curl up under a patio umbrella and study the other partygoers from behind her sunglasses.<br/>
<br/>
You're not conscious of having grinned at her, but when she grins back in your direction, you realize she's caught you staring.<br/>
<br/>
With a slight groan you sit up, gather your strength -- you're well relaxed -- and pick up the empty beer bottles. You drop them into the recycling barrel and go inside. The kitchen -- which feels like an ice box after the outdoor heat -- is crowded with girls in swimsuits, and only a few of them move out of your way as you push through. Most remain where they are, and look up at you with hooded glances as you brush past, your skin rubbing across theirs. From the ice chest and the refrigerator you pluck a fresh beer, a wine cooler, and a diet cola, and return outside.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, brought you your choice," you say as you sit on the chair next to Bethany. She scoots over to make room for you.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks." She takes the wine cooler, twists it open. "I didn't mean to make you move."<br/>
<br/>
"You gave me the chance. Ceres says you're not swimming 'cos you burn easily. Why don't you use sunscreen?"<br/>
<br/>
"I do," she says, and her mouth curls up into a chipper, toothy smile between her chipmunk cheeks. "But the pool's also pretty crowded."<br/>
<br/>
"Need some more rubbed on you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but if you're offering." She smiles again, and swallows down a great draft of wine cooler. You can't miss the way her chest is rapidly rising and falling.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess I am," you drawl, and pick up the bottle of sunscreen. You dribble some into the palm of your hand. It glistens whitely there. Like cum. <br/>
<br/>
You turn a wide grin onto Bethany, and spread it up and down her leg. The python wakes and stretches in your trunks as she leans back and puts her calf in your lap.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
She declines to go down on you, which cools your ardor considerably, but as the sun is setting you are locked in a bathroom with her, huddled on a furry bathmat, with your arms around each other, grinning and giggling into each other's faces as you exchange long lingering kisses that more cutely might be described as "deep smooching." You have to break off after twenty minutes when someone needs to use the john, and then she gets a phone call and has to leave. Then you retrieve and strap on your discarded Tevas, and your t-shirt, and are shambling to your own car when Brianna intercepts you. "So did she suck you off?" she asks with a pinched and ugly expression.<br/>
<br/>
You blink back at her, then grunt a negative.<br/>
<br/>
She glares at you, then pushes in close. "That must be awful for you. Let me help." She puts her palm to the front of your trunks and turns a haggard expression up into your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Mm.</i> When the bell rings you lean forward and pinch the bridge of your nose. The colors of the room run like they've been left in the rain, then snap back into position. These memories cast a slightly different light on things. Bethany likes to flirt and to kiss, but she didn't chase Justin. On the other hand, he didn't chase her, either. So what does a smile and a kiss from her mean, exactly?</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223111112131113311
author_id: seuzz
title: Lunchtime Under a Double Disguise
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The worst effects of the flashback seem to be behind you as you plow through the hallways to fourth-period English. Bethany should be in there, but you're still not sure how to play things with her. If you had a coin to flip --<br/>
<br/>
You stagger a step, and lean against a locker as the crowd surges past. You didn't flip a coin, but it's almost as if your brain did a flip instead. <i>Well, why not?</i> you think to yourself with a small smile. <i>It's a cool idea. It should work. It'll be fun at least.</i><br/>
<br/>
You fall back into the crowd. You know better, of course, but you think to yourself: <i>I'm Justin Roth, and I'm hiding in Will Prescott's body, and that gives me another chance to get close to Bethany. <br/>
<br/>
She'll never see me coming.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Bethany sits on the other side of the classroom, and after a quick glance at Johansson you shuffle over to her corner. There's an empty desk in front of her, and she looks up with widening eyes as you drop into it. "Hey," you say as you turn a faint smile onto her. Your voice sounds odd -- like it's trying to break. But that's because you're speaking with your vocal cords, not Justin's.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," she says, and a little glow appears on her face.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you eat with Andrea every day?"<br/>
<br/>
"Most days." The twinkle in her eye fades a little. "You want to have lunch with us?"<br/>
<br/>
"I want to have lunch with you. Do you want to have her along?"<br/>
<br/>
Bethany hesitates, then shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"She scares me, you know that?" If Justin's brain hadn't so comfortably slithered inside yours, you'd be embarrassed by the confession. But he wouldn't care.<br/>
<br/>
She laughs, once. "She kind of scares me too. She does that to everyone." The twinkle is back in her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Gladstone's voice rings out. "Will, are you sitting over there now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" You turn around. "Oh, yeah, I guess. For today."<br/>
<br/>
"Then turn around. We're ready to start."<br/>
<br/>
You flash Bethany an impudent grin before complying. And as you swing your legs around, you catch a brief glimpse of Johansson's contemptuous glance.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You keep your hands and arms to yourself as you walk outdoors with Bethany, but you bump into her a couple of times, gently. "I usually eat with Johansson -- Uh, Caleb and Keith. But they scare me too, so how about someplace with just you and me."<br/>
<br/>
"You're scared of your friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, just at lunch. The way they eat." You look around. "How about out by G wing? It's shady there." In a casual, studied silence you walk, and drop onto a patch of thick grass, and unpack your lunches as streams of students walk past.<br/>
<br/>
"So, I bugged the shit out of you last Sunday," you say as you peel back the bread on your sandwich. Though the flashback has mostly ended, it's left you unsettled, and you're leery of what you might find inside the sandwich, and even more leery of how it might taste. "Did you mind too much?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I liked it. Are you going to come see me this Sunday, too?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll see you tomorrow, or tonight, if you'll let me."<br/>
<br/>
"That's kind of short notice, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance up. She's smiling, but there's a sharp twinkle in her eye. "Is it? You don't have to say yes." You lay on your side, prop yourself on an elbow, smile back at her. "But I got wiggle room in my plans. Do you have wiggle room in yours?"<br/>
<br/>
"Wiggle room?" She stifles a laugh. "Well, I was going to the Warehouse tonight. Around about eleven?" She tears a demure bite from the side of her sandwich.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> "Warehouse isn't my favorite place, but I could swing it. What are you doing before then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably hanging out at a coffee bar or someplace like that with some of my friends."<br/>
<br/>
You study her face, then turn to stare off at the northern sky, where some wispy clouds have formed. You take a big bite from your sandwich and chew it slowly and thoughtfully as you map out the future terrain. You don't turn back to her until you've swallowed the giant bite down. "What are you doing for dinner? Have it with me, just the two of us, then the coffee bar with your friends?"<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes shine, but she hums and temporizes. "I usually have supper at home -- "<br/>
<br/>
"My treat. It won't be anyplace fancy, just burgers and fries. Anyway, that's what I'm doing for supper, and I'll pick you up and take you with me if you want."<br/>
<br/>
She looks away with a smile. "Okay. And I'll buy you coffee afterward with my friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome. And who are your friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean who am I meeting there? Probably Ceres and Dorothy and Jordana. You know them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dorothy who? And is that Ceres -- ?" You tap your forehead, trying to place the name of the granola girl Justin is thinking of.<br/>
<br/>
"Kesey. And Dorothy Harmon. Jordana Trujillo?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah." You know those names. You tremble just a little at Dorothy's name -- Justin knows her as a conquest, and not a hard one, and not a conquest that is uniquely his. But you're looking like Will Prescott, so there's no trouble there. "So these people hang out with you and Andrea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sometimes." Her eyes narrow. "Are you interested in Andrea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, everyone's interested in Andrea, but -- " You don't know where the courage comes from; maybe it's not courage, maybe it's just Justin's nerves of wood. But you jam the sandwich into your mouth, then brush your palm lightly over Bethany's bare calf. After taking the sandwich back out of your mouth, you tell the girl, "But that doesn't mean I'm interested in seeing or talking to her. You should start hanging out at lunch with me instead."<br/>
<br/>
Her nostrils flare, and that glow bursts out even more strongly in her face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Was Braydon in fourth period today? You didn't notice. But he texts you while you're in the restroom during your study hall, staring at yourself in the mirror with bemusement, and wondering if Bethany actually likes you or if she's just turned on by unashamed flirting.<br/>
<br/>
But, anyway, that text from Braydon: <i>u c justin yet?<br/>
<br/>
ys. saw bethany @ lunch<br/>
<br/>
:) Xtian wants 2 meet after scool @ usual place</i><br/>
<br/>
"Xtian" sure seems intent on missing lots of RPG sessions. <i>ok</i><br/>
<br/>
Sixth period, Statistics: "Where were you at lunch?" Tilley asks as you sit down to him. You catch Carson Ioeger, who's in the next seat over, lifting his head slightly.<br/>
<br/>
"Eating with Bethany Lewis."<br/>
<br/>
Keith's jaw falls open, and he guffaws once. Carson whips out his cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Probably eat lunch with her next week, too," you coolly add. "And after that."<br/>
<br/>
Keith jerks his chin at you, and smirks. "Gonna eat lunch with us ever again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Depends on if I stop being ashamed of your company," you say, then turn your back on him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey, wanna give me a hand?" Christian calls out as he gets out of his car. "Got two boxes need carrying."<br/>
<br/>
You're at the elementary school, and as usual you're the first one here. Christian hands you a book box whose contents clink and rattle. "What are these?" you ask, though you can guess the answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Masks. Got them out of Chen's. Well, had him bring them out. Jesus, he's a handful," Christian says as he pulls out a second box from his back seat. "You should be glad you don't have to deal with him anymore." You've already got the lock off the basement door, so you follow him downstairs into the dim, musty depths. "Better off having the shit here, you know," he says as he drops his load onto a desk. "That way we don't have to deal with him."<br/>
<br/>
"So we're going to use this stuff, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so," Christian says cheerfully. "I talked to Braydon about it, or he talked to me. Whatever. I've decided it's all point of view, you know?" He hops onto a desk and fixes one of his foxiest expressions on you. "I got to thinking about it, and I've decided I was handling this all wrong, being way too suspicious of you and -- Well, of everyone. You and Braydon have the right idea, I think."<br/>
<br/>
"What idea is that?" You're not aware that you had an idea.<br/>
<br/>
"To have fun, be bold." He flips a dismissive hand at you. "I was being paranoid, which meant I wasn't having fun, which just made me paranoid some more. If you have fun, you see everything in perspective, then you see that you shouldn't be so goddamned mistrustful. Or I shouldn't be. So come on." He claps you on the arm. "Who do you want to larp as? Oh, wait." He grins. "You did a kind of larping today, didn't you? How'd it go? Braydon told me you had lunch with Bethany Lewis."<br/>
<br/>
"It went good," you say. "I'm having dinner with her tonight, then maybe coffee." You frown. "But she's going to the Warehouse around eleven-thirty, and I don't think I can do that."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, for a start, I have a curfew at eleven."<br/>
<br/>
"Christ! Really? That's pretty sad, Will," Christian says. "Even I get a one o'clock curfew on weekends."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, my dad isn't yours."<br/>
<br/>
Christian's eyebrows twitch. "Except he could be, you know?" A slow smile creeps onto Christian's face. "Tonight only, and tomorrow morning?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart thumps once, hard. "What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be dumb, I mean that I could put on your -- Oh, right." His face falls. "We sealed the masks up. Except!" He comes to life again, and looks around. "Your golem. Someone told me, right, that you got your golem out of the quarry and brought it back here? So why don't you put your mask on the golem, send it home, and you go to the Warehouse?"<br/>
<br/>
That could work. But the Warehouse has a reputation for being very frightening.<br/>
<br/>
But Justin has been there, lots of times, on weekday nights, even, when it is at is scariest. With his mind-band, you could survive it.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212231111121311133111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Date With Minimal Drama
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You and Christian talk over possible logistics, and he helps you outline a way of doing it. It surprises you how good he is at figuring out some plausible angles, but you're grateful too -- grateful enough that you remind him that he should do something about his next-door neighbor. "Yeah, I'm thinking about that," he says. "But why are you why so sure I've got a chance with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't believe me."<br/>
<br/>
That eyebrow goes up. "Try me."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh-uh. You'd freak out. I know I would." <br/>
<br/>
But you can't help grinning, and Christian wags a long, white finger at you. "If you're shitting me -- "<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Since it's Friday, there's no pressure for you to do homework, and your mom doesn't object when you tell her you'll be meeting friends at a fast-food restaurant someplace. You pick out some clothes for when you go to the Warehouse and take them back to the basement, where you field some text messages from Caleb and Keith. The former is especially persistent, wanting to know if you totally humiliated yourself with Bethany and that's why he hasn't heard from you. <i>haha, fuck you, eating w her 2nite,</i> you text back. His reply is succinct: <i>good luck.</i><br/>
<br/>
Then you only have to kill a couple of hours until you can pick up Bethany. Since you're alone in the basement, and have the memories in Justin's mind-band to play with, you put it back on, and amuse yourself by replaying in your imagination the girls he has fucked. There are a quite a number of them, from lots of social levels and cliques, and from both Westside and Eastman. You're humiliated by how easy it is for him to snag and discard girls -- and he's so casual and relaxed about it that he doesn't even do it as often as he could -- but you bring yourself to climax in a dark and dirty corner anyway.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You promised Bethany nothing more than fast food, but Justin's brain tells you to take her someplace nicer than McDonalds. Since you haven't got a lot of money, you pick Panera. She tells you that's "great" when you pick her up.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever Justin's advantages, small talk isn't one of them, but Yumi told you not to force yourself, so after you've got your orders in and are seated, you ask her about her school schedule.<br/>
<br/>
It's a relaxed supper -- not sexy, not flirty, and not a lot of pressure. Just two people feeling each other out. And since you don't know each other and have never even spoken -- not until last Sunday, sort of -- there are lots of little interview-type questions to get through about parents and where your houses are and where you grew up and what you like and don't like. Bethany doesn't reveal any surprising secrets about herself -- she's just another girl born in Saratoga Falls who lives in neighborhoods kind of like yours and goes to schools kind of like yours. <br/>
<br/>
You pay attention to all this, of course, but mostly you're taken with her face and what you can see of her figure under the shapeless flannel shirt. She has a small mouth that twists up in a perky little smile, and eyes that squint in an elfin way, and long dimples that show under her cheekbones. Her eyes are a dark hazel, and they dart brightly and restlessly about, never quite looking you in the face as you gaze steadily at her. You like her face, and you especially like the memory of her mouth in yours, and feel of her body inside Justin's embrace. Certainly she says and does nothing to diminish your interest in her.<br/>
<br/>
And you think you hold your own with her, and get the impression that she is puzzled but intrigued by you. You're not the goofy space cadet who made her laugh last Sunday up at the mall, and you slouch in a very relaxed posture while talking, which is probably why her brow gets a crinkle in it after the talk has meandered about pleasantly for a bit. And with the help of Justin's knowledge of the social scene at school you're able to talk with a plausible knowledge about Westside High and the sorts of things that go on there. You're able at least to pick out the friends she says she hangs out with. Your classes don't overlap much, and there's not much amusing to say about it, except when she talks about choir and teases you about your bad pitch when you try to sing a few notes.<br/>
<br/>
At only one point do you feel like you shine, and it's because of a lie. When Bethany mentions her second-period history, you reply: "Oh yeah, I saw you heading to Santiago's class the other day."<br/>
<br/>
"I saw you too," she says. "With David." Her expression turns a little wary, and a little amused.<br/>
<br/>
"You call him 'David'? I thought everyone called him 'Kirkham'."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't talk to him if I can help it. What did he want with you? Are you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" You shrug. "Kirkham's cool." You get little flush of pleasure from this off-hand brag about your good relations with that sadistic asshole. <br/>
<br/>
"Really?" Bethany looks very skeptical. "Because from the way he was grabbing you -- "<br/>
<br/>
"That's just his style. We're cool with each other." In truth, Kirkham is cool with Justin, so your words have the ring of truth, but you jot down a mental memorandum -- get Braydon to set up a scene where you and Kirkham can look like you're actually friendly. "We don't hang out a lot, but -- " You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
This casual talk lasts over supper and then over at the Milagro Beanfield Warehouse, which is where you meet her two friends for coffee.<br/>
<br/>
"So how come I don't ever see you around," Jordana demands after you've got your coffee and have been silently listening to the three girls talking for fifteen minutes. Her eyes and brow are both dark when she turns them on you.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug noncommittally. "There's other things to do than hanging around the school."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't mean 'hanging around the school'," Jordana retorts. "You see me hanging around the school?" Her fingers twitch as she grabs her coffee cup.<br/>
<br/>
Bethany leans into your ear with an audible whisper: "Jordana's suspended from school more often than she's in school." You're not much surprised. She's got piercings in her ears, nose, lip, and eyebrows, tattoos up her forearm, and her shirt and jeans are torn.<br/>
<br/>
Jordana ignores her. "What about the river," she asks you over her tilted nose. "You ever out by the river?"<br/>
<br/>
You turn to give Bethany a steady look. Her eyes narrow as you study her. "No," you say at last.<br/>
<br/>
"Why the fuck not?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Not my thing."<br/>
<br/>
Jordana snorts. "So what <i>is</i> your thing?"<br/>
<br/>
You keep your eyes on Bethany. "I'm starting to find out," you say. Bethany titters, blushes a tiny bit, and looks away.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus." Jordana rolls her eyes, then gives you another critical once-over. "You're a sophomore, right?"<br/>
<br/>
That grabs you enough that you look over at her. "No, I'm a senior."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't look like a senior. You look like a fucking freshman."<br/>
<br/>
Justin's instincts are like a warm bath of syrup: You let the corner of your mouth go up, then turn back to Bethany. "Cradle snatcher," you quip. Out of the corner of your eye you see a flush spread across Jordana's face.<br/>
<br/>
Dorothy, who has been studying her cell phone, stretches an arm and yawns. "I'm gonna sneak something back in the alley," she says, to which Jordana says, "I'll go with you," and follows her up and out.<br/>
<br/>
"Cigarettes," says Bethany as she watches them disappear into the back of the bar. "Cigarettes and a little weed." Her eyebrows go up. "You into that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Cigarettes, no," you truthfully reply. "Weed, not often."<br/>
<br/>
"Same here." Bethany smiles, but it changes to a small frown as her eyes go to your chin. "How often do you shave?"<br/>
<br/>
"When I remember to. When someone reminds me to."<br/>
<br/>
"They don't remind you often enough, it looks like."<br/>
<br/>
"Does it bother you? Pay you to remind me?"<br/>
<br/>
She grins. "How much?"<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting on the same side of the booth, and there are six inches of open air between you, but still you don't cross them. Justin's instincts tell you it's not time yet. "Not for money," you reply. "I can't afford it. What else do I got that you want?"<br/>
<br/>
Now it's a serious blush that creeps up her face, and her eyes narrow, and for a moment you think you've miscalculated. But after a moment that toothy smile returns. "From you? I haven't decided yet."</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122311111213111331111
author_id: seuzz
title: Musical Masks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Bethany apologizes for Jordana's behavior, but you brush it off: "That's okay, I like her, she's cool." That would be a lie coming from you, but from Justin? Not so much.<br/>
<br/>
There's not a lot of conversation after the two girls return. Jordana and Dorothy return to their cell phones -- texting or surfing the internet, and occasionally sharing something they've found. You scoot up close to Bethany, draping your left arm over her shoulder -- which elicits a quick, shy giggle -- and take out your own phone. You ignore the few texts that come in for you and open up a couple of gaming apps, and play some three-handed games with Bethany. You're both soon laughing away at them, and that breaks another logjam in the stream of conversation, so that you're talking about which games you like and are good at, and why, and comparing notes on other pop culture things. She's got her arm around you too before long, and that leads to another kind of fun play as she with her left hand and you with your right hand try to cooperate at some of the games.<br/>
<br/>
You ignore the dark, puzzled, and impatient looks that Jordana shoots you, and put out of your mind that she's undoubtedly texting her friends about you, and -- if the flash of light is any indication -- has even started circulating a photo of you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The coffee bar party breaks up a little before ten o'clock, and you take Bethany home while telling her you'll meet her at the Warehouse at eleven-thirty. Upstairs you change into shorts and a t-shirt and tell your parents you're going to take a quick jog around the block, to exhaust yourself since you had too much coffee with your friends. Their suspicions (hopefully) allayed, you sprint over to the elementary school basement.<br/>
<br/>
It's pitch dark in there, and you almost trip a couple of times before you can find a light; the musty, oily smell that assaulted you on opening the door recedes somewhat once there's some illumination in the place. You find your mask -- which you left out for just this moment -- laying on a desk, and put it on. A heavy darkness presses onto your face and into your skull ...<br/>
<br/>
... and you wake with a breathless, suffocating feeling. You sit up sharply, and the mask falls off you with a clatter. You are groggy, and you take that as meaning that you've charged the mask up with all your most recent memories.<br/>
<br/>
You change clothes, pulling on your nastiest and most torn-up pair of jeans and your ugliest dress shirt -- a purple monstrosity that you should have thrown away after you splashed green paint all over it, but which you kept after Caleb suggested it would work as part of a "The Joker, After Trying to Paint His House" Halloween costume. It seems to have character, and though Justin's brain hasn't got any praise for it when you study yourself in the dim mirror, neither of your two minds think it looks awful.<br/>
<br/>
You worm your way into the back where you hid the golem, and though you're looking for it, it's still a shock to push yourself around the corner of a bookcase and slam into the petrified face of Gary Chen. After swallowing down your heart again, you raise your mask and put it to his face. It vanishes into him, and in one of the micro-seconds when you weren't paying close attention, he turns into your duplicate. He blinks, jerks back, and says "Ow!"<br/>
<br/>
"You bump your head?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. You just hurt me with your face."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, it's your face too, and it's not hurting me."<br/>
<br/>
He grins. "So, you wanna make out while we're back here?" He puts his hand on your ass. "You seem to be doing pretty good with -- "<br/>
<br/>
You jump back and bump your head on something sharp. "Ow!"<br/>
<br/>
"Now who's hurting whose face?" your doppelganger chortles.<br/>
<br/>
"Just get out there and get dressed," you retort, and gingerly nurse a tender spot on your noggin. "You know what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," he says as he squeezes past you. "Last thing I remember is coming down here. Christ. You know how much it sucks being the spare you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but I know how much it sucks having to listen to me whine. Do I really sound like that?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," he whines back. "You sound a lot worse."<br/>
<br/>
With a snort, you let him have the last word and send him jogging home with orders to be back at the basement by noon tomorrow. Then you text Christian to come pick you up.<br/>
<br/>
A car pulls up twenty minutes later. Your jaw drops when the window rolls down and Caleb yells at you: "Get yer ass in here, Will!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Well, fuck me for not knowing it was you," you grumble after you've got the seat belt fastened and you're on your way.<br/>
<br/>
"So who else would it have been?" the fake Johansson honks. "Why would Caleb come looking for you at the elementary school at this time of night? That's why I picked this mask to do it in."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit, you picked it exactly so could make me shit myself."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that was another reason I did it," he cheerfully retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, you didn't have to wear a mask, or you could have worn someone else's -- "<br/>
<br/>
"No I couldn't. Like you said, I did it totally to freak you out." He grins at you in the dark. "And I did, too. Why did you think you get away from me by climbing that tree?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't climbing the tree, I was just -- ! Just startled is all."<br/>
<br/>
"Do we need to stop by your house, pick you up some clean underwear?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you! I even forgot you guys had that mask of Caleb. And Keith." You whip around and look in the back seat, but it's empty. "Where is Keith? Shouldn't you guys be a pair, if you're being Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who and me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You and Braydon."<br/>
<br/>
"I am Braydon," says Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"You are? So where's Christian?"<br/>
<br/>
"I left him back at his house. He told me to come get you. We'll go out later, him and I. Oh, that reminds me, when you get to the Warehouse, text me the names of all the guys you see there that we've got masks of."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"So we know who can go larping as. See, if they're at the Warehouse, then they won't be out at the nightclubs we're gonna hit."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Sure. Which nightclubs?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Depends on who you see at the Warehouse and who we can go out as." He rattles off a list of people that your group has masks of, and you rattle it back again to show that you can remember it: Caleb and Keith; Mansfield and Gardinhire and Pruitt and Golia; Dane and Erik Carstairs; Tim Gerard and Marc Garner. The only person you don't know by sight is "Michael Alvarez", but Braydon doesn't sound interested in using his mask anyway.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"The Warehouse" is located in the sketchiest part of town, the semi-abandoned industrial district wedged between the old downtown district and the interstate. It's an entirely informal club and party venue, a congregation point for high school students going back decades, that has evolved into a self-run business of sorts. You yourself have never dared venture into it, and all that you know has been passed to you second-hand from people like Carson Ioeger.<br/>
<br/>
Tonight, though, you have Justin Roth's brain inside yours, so you're not surprised by anything that you see after Braydon has dropped you off and sped away.<br/>
<br/>
It's an actual warehouse -- abandoned -- behind a tall cinderblock wall topped with broken glass and razor wire. Inside the wall is a large parking lot that is already filled to capacity with cars. At the front gate stand two scrappy football players -- Dominic Kleason and Nathan Hall -- who are checking each car to be sure it has a full quota of at least eight people inside. (The lot would fill up with too many cars without this kind of hyper-carpooling; otherwise, you have to be dropped off or park in one of the other, unlit, and super-dangerous parking lots, which no one ever does.) Right now they're shining flashlights into a cherry-red Toyota SUV that's racing its motor impatiently; girlish laughs and screams echo from it; and one of the back windows is down, and a pair of feet in green-dyed Converse high-tops are sticking out and kicking the air.<br/>
<br/>
With these guys so distracted, you're able to dart by.<br/>
<br/>
The only light comes from a the hazy orange streetlight and from an open door in the middle of the warehouse -- through which blares a pounding pulse -- so the handful of people out front are only silhouettes. The three guys standing guard will not be carding anyone, but only checking to make sure the people are cool enough to go in. Or young enough -- insofar as the Warehouse has an age policy, it's that high school graduates are not allowed in.<br/>
<br/>
And now, on the very cusp of your adventure, you freeze in your tracks. Those three guys at the front door? Joshua Call, Jeff Spencer, and Cole Stanchik.<br/>
<br/>
Stanchik you only know as a football player, and you've never had any dealings with him. But Call and Spencer? Those are two of the guys who spent your second day under Braydon's mask humiliating you behind the portables. There's no way they're going to let you pass.<br/>
<br/>
And when you step forward -- <br/>
<br/>
Call stops you with a hard blow to the shoulder. "The fuck do you think you're going?"<br/>
<br/>
"Inside."<br/>
<br/>
He jerks his head at Spencer, who glares at you dully. "Fuck this asshole up for me," Call tells you, "and then maybe I'll think about letting you in."<br/>
<br/>
Before you can answer, a girlish voice calls from inside, and a small silhouette appears in the doorway. "Let him in, Josh, I've been waiting for him," says Bethany.<br/>
<br/>
Call glances back at her. "Suck me off, and I will."<br/>
<br/>
Okay, now both you and Justin are on the same wavelength. Even if you can't get inside, you want to clock this asshole.</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223111112131113311112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Warehouse Scene, As Seen With Two Minds
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Maybe you would have swung at Call and maybe you wouldn't have. You did ball up your fist, and you'd like to think you actually were stepping back and were about to pull your hand back --<br/>
<br/>
But another, harsher voice interrupted. "Let him in, fuckface," Jordana yells, and appears behind Bethany.<br/>
<br/>
Call again glances over his shoulder. You hesitate again for just a little too long to actually do anything. Then Call darts out a gorilla-like paw and yanks you in toward the door. You flail once at his arm, but it's like beating on an iron girder as he hurls you through the doorway. The two girls catch at you: Bethany, gently at your chest, and Jordana roughly at your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, thanks," you say in as cool and detached a tone as you can muster.<br/>
<br/>
"What were you gonna do, fight him?" Jordana snorts. "I wanna see the band, not take you to the fucking hospital. Come on."<br/>
<br/>
Her words embarrass and anger you, but you stifle them when Bethany smiles and puts her arm around your waist. You put yours around her and -- leaning against each other -- go into the Warehouse.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The musical beat bangs at your ears like someone driving railroad spikes in with a pile driver. You wince, then force the wince off your face. This is what good music is supposed to sound like.<br/>
<br/>
Immediately inside the Warehouse is a kind of lobby. A few girls -- dressed in skimpy shorts and halter tops, or dresses that cover only the barest fraction of skin -- are here, tapping at their cell phones and looking up briefly with pinched expressions when you come in. You pass them toward two sets of double doors, one off to the left and the other straight ahead.<br/>
<br/>
Bethany puts her mouth to your ear, for even in the lobby the music is deafening. "Drink or dance first?"<br/>
<br/>
"I only dance when I'm drunk!" you shout back in her ear.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not good?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm great, but I'm not brave!"<br/>
<br/>
Jordana pulls open the left-leading doors -- and the percussive wave ought to slam her across the lobby against the far wall -- and goes in to the dance floor. But you and Bethany go straight ahead into the bar.<br/>
<br/>
It's not a real bar, but a makeshift one of planks and packing crates, and all the bottles are kept in other crates along the back wall. Three guys are busy pulling out beers and pouring shots of cheap liquor, and collecting dirty dollar bills which they stuff through a slot in the back wall. If anyone ever staged a robbery here --<br/>
<br/>
But the football players patrolling the floor would probably have something to say about that. And Justin has reasoned it out that the Warehouse -- though it looks like it's entirely staffed and run by high school students -- certainly has a local criminal gang behind it. It gives you a thrill to think of yourself as hanging out here.<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddaya want?" shouts one of the bartenders, a bare-chested guy with piercings all over his face and a backward-turned ball cap. It's not as loud in here as the lobby, but loud enough.<br/>
<br/>
"Dos Equis," you say, and look at Bethany. She raises two fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"Ten bucks," the guy says, and turns around. Stiff charge. You're going to have to content yourself with maybe two drinks all night long.<br/>
<br/>
With your beers you and Bethany push through the crowd of teens in the bar area, who are standing around, rubbing bodies and grooving in a half-assed way to the music, through another set of doors to a large room filled with makeshift tables and booths. It's very dark in this room, so you can't fully make out faces and forms. Someone makes out you, though: "Hey, Will!"<br/>
<br/>
It's Marc Garner, and he's with Hannah Westrick again. They're squeezed into a corner booth and squeezed up against each other. You push Bethany to steer her toward them. "Missed you here last weekend," he says as you join him. "Come on, sit down."<br/>
<br/>
You think you catch a dirty look on Hannah's face, but maybe it's the light, and you and Bethany drop into a torn and sagging booth that was probably rescued from a condemned restaurant. Marc puts out his own beer bottle, and you clink it with yours. "So  you gonna start being a regular out here?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Who says I haven't been?"<br/>
<br/>
"I do." He laughs good-naturedly. "I think I'd've noticed you."<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure whether to take that in a complimentary way or not, so you just shrug. "It's gonna be easier for me to make it this year," you reply. You're suddenly conscious of Bethany in the crook of your arm. "You know Bethany?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know Bethany." Marc's eyes and smile both glint. "Hi Bethany."<br/>
<br/>
"Hi Marc. Hi Hannah."<br/>
<br/>
Marc puts his bottle across the table again for another clink. "Awesome. Now we just need to get you guys out to Kelsey's tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"What's at Kelsey's tomorrow?" you ask, but you're interrupted as another couple slide in next to Marc: a fox-faced Hispanic guy in a muscle shirt who has a strong arm around a Hispanic girl shaped like a double-scoop of ice cream balanced on a narrow waffle cone. The guy says something inaudible to Marc.<br/>
<br/>
"So what happened?" Marc replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Nuthin'." The guy shrugs. "Just a couple o' cholos with a testosterone rush." He turns to you. "Hey."<br/>
<br/>
Dammit, you know him, you've seen him around in a couple of your classes even, but you can't place his name. "Was there a fight?" Bethany asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah." The guy grabs Marc's beer, slams back a long draught. "Saved Erik gettin' his knuckles scraped is all." He belches.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking Carstairs," Marc says, raising his head to look around.<br/>
<br/>
You look around too, but don't spot anything interesting. The other guys' conversation becomes muted and serious, and you don't follow all the nuances, insinuations, and references, but it sounds like they're expecting or are at least watchful for some kind of trouble. Hannah offers a few comments of her own, but seems to slump further in her seat with a frown.<br/>
<br/>
And that reminds you that you've got a girl here with you, and maybe she's bored too. You turn toward her, and she turns at the same time. Your noses and mouths collide.<br/>
<br/>
The moment hangs.<br/>
<br/>
Then you're kissing, as you were kissing her in the parking lot at the mall on Sunday, and as Justin was kissing her last June. Her mouth is hot and her tongue is velvety, and it puts you in mind somehow of eating molten ice cream with chunks of fruit.<br/>
<br/>
You're dizzy when you come up out of it, and it takes a moment for you to realize that Marc is grinning openly at you, and his friend is hiding a smile of his own. "Will," says Marc, and he lifts his bottle in a toast.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, shut up," you mutter, and you snuggle up closer to Bethany while pulling her closer to you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A couple of more guys join you and Marc, and gradually it dawns on you that they're all soccer players. It's not an unfriendly scene -- talk is casually about which recent parties rocked and which upcoming parties probably will -- but when the booth gets too crowded you and Bethany pull out. She tugs you in to the dance floor, saying she wants to find Jordana and some of her other friends.<br/>
<br/>
The dance hall itself takes up more than half the warehouse space, and the cavernous room rises up to the rafters. The far wall is dominated by a stage and the sound equipment. There are no fancy lighting effects, and the floor itself is dark and dense and viscous as a magma chamber with writhing bodies; the music beats and thrashes with a driving volcanic force. You don't recognize the band -- they're all local bands made up of high school kids -- and you don't catch the name Bethany shouts in your ear when you ask. After a cursory search of the hall, you and she fall to dancing.<br/>
<br/>
If you want to call it dancing. She twists and thrusts like an expert, with hands over her head and breasts and hips going in opposite directions. You try more stiffly to mimic her moves while feeling silly and awkward. No one calls you on your pathetic moves, at least, as they are wrapped up in each other.<br/>
<br/>
But after only ten minutes of this, you and Bethany get separated in the crowd. She's a small thing, so once she's out of sight you can't find her again, and you get shoved and punched as you try to pry your way through the crowd. You quickly lose all sense of direction, and like a bottle in the ocean you are pushed and carried far from the place where you lost her.<br/>
<br/>
You keep your cool, though, and move back toward the doors. That's the most logical place to meet up, and you hope to find her there before long.<br/>
<br/>
As you lean against the wall, on the look out for Bethany, you also take note of everyone else you recognize. Of the ones that Braydon asked you to look out for, only Marc Garner and Erik Carstairs are around. But though you'd bet Dane is around somewhere, you doubt the others are. So you only text Braydon Marc's name and Erik's.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey! Hey!" You only look up at the shout when someone nudges you. You look over into the grinning face of Dorothy Harmon. "So you showed up."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! You seen Bethany?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why? 'dja lose her?"<br/>
<br/>
"We got separated!"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing!"<br/>
<br/>
She giggles and presses up close to you. The stench of burning weed fills your nostrils. "I'll keep you company!" Before you can react, she's got her arm around your neck and is nuzzling at your throat.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Christ!</i> You jump with shock, with arousal, and with leaping happiness. So this is what it's like to have multiple girls throwing themselves at you!<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, pretty cool,</i> Justin drawls from somewhere inside your head.</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212231111121311133111122
author_id: seuzz
title: To the Ends of the Night
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You try pulling away from Dorothy, but she clings to you like wet toilet paper, and every time you pry one of her arms off you she slaps it back around you someplace else.<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, Bethany isn't long in finding you; unluckily, you still haven't pried Dorothy off you when she squirms out of the crowd. The back of your tongue gets gummed up with your heart, which has jumped into your throat.<br/>
<br/>
Bethany very firmly yanks you free of Dorothy and pulls you back into the crowd and starts dancing as though nothing has happened. After a few spasmodic jerks, you pull her up into a close embrace and yell in her ear. "That wasn't my idea! She just grabbed me!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know!" Bethany yells back in your ear. "I know all about her!" She grins up in your face, and grinds her pelvis into yours.<br/>
<br/>
Now you don't care what anyone might say. You dance ecstatically, and you keep one hand twined with Bethany's so you don't get lost again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The band comes to an exhausted stop much later, and instead of rushing with the rest of the crowd to the bar, you and Bethany crash against one of the walls, to kiss and rub each other all over with your hands. But people will insist on interrupting you, to your irritation, even though you barely know them. But they know Bethany, and they will crowd up closer to her than you like: guys like Lee Reynolds, and Jordan Fry and Roy Booth and Zachary Herman. Guys whose names you know only because Justin knows them and likes them and hangs out with them sometimes.<br/>
<br/>
So you hang out with them here. Between dancing on the floor with Bethany -- and with Vanessa Bailey and Nancy Trent, when Bethany goes off with some of the other guys -- you catch your breath in the bar area with Lee and Jordan and those guys; also Eric Harlen and Andrew Harding and Rebecca Sykes and Brianna Gould and a bunch of other people from Eastman whose names escape you. You step outside once for a cigarette, and into a closed off "vape room" a couple of times for some deep marijuana hits.<br/>
<br/>
The talk in there catches your attention when Gary Chen's name comes up. You knew him as a bully and a gangbanger, but you didn't realize -- as Spencer Osbourne confirms -- that he is the main distributor of weed inside Westside. He's even got a small gang working for him, one that at the very least includes George Mendoza and Joe Thomason. You're far enough gone that these revelations give you the giggles -- Chen's in your house right now, pretending to be you; the Chen they know is actually a robot following Christian Knouse's orders -- but you're not so high that you actually confess anything.<br/>
<br/>
By the time Bethany pulls you into a close embrace and murmurs, "You're wasted, sweetie" in your ear, you have stopped paying attention to anything. Your feet have lost all feeling except for an aching heaviness, and your head reels pleasant, and a baby deer on roller skates would have an easier time getting from one side of a room to the other. "Time's'it?" you slur in reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Almost four."<br/>
<br/>
"You wasted?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Just buzzed."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." You blink a couple of times. "You call'd me 'sweetie'?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so." She puts her arms around you and presses her face into your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"You're sweetie," you mumble, and paw at the back of her head. "So sweetie. So -- " Your face falls onto the top of her head.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you balance there. Then Bethany shakes you. "Come on. We'll take you someplace."<br/>
<br/>
You raise up, and a spasm of energy lets you stumble half a dozen steps toward the front doors. "Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can you go home?"<br/>
<br/>
"Home?" Disconnected thoughts struggle through your benumbed brain, like mosquitoes burrowing through cotton. "Nuh. Someone there a'ready."<br/>
<br/>
"If you have fifty dollars, we can stay here."<br/>
<br/>
"Nuh, don't got -- " You rub your eyes deeply. "God, you're right, I'm wasted."<br/>
<br/>
Bethany titters. "That's okay. I'm wasted enough I don't mind, sweetie."<br/>
<br/>
"You're so sweetie." You pull her close again and nuzzle at her ear, but she keeps tugging you along.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll take him," another voice cuts in, and a strong hand grabs you by the upper arm.<br/>
<br/>
Bethany says, "I was going to take him to -- " but the other interrupts with, "I know where he goes."<br/>
<br/>
You try pulling Bethany with you as you're drawn from her embrace, and you blink at her puzzled, worried expression. "He'll talk to you tomorrow," says the other person, and a strong arm goes around your torso. You're turned around and guided, on stumbling feet, out into the bracing cold of the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
Some of the cars are gone, but most are still there, and a couple of brawny figures are leaning against them, heads bent over cell phones. Your companion half-hauls and half-carries you to a large sedan, which squawks and flashes its lights as he unlocks it. He opens the passenger-side door and pushes you in, and you've just time to see his face before he closes the door.<br/>
<br/>
It's Marc Garner.<br/>
<br/>
You settle into the bucket seat and lay your head against the window, and puzzle in a vague way at why Marc is taking care of you. You don't open your eyes as he gets in, and starts the car, and pulls out into the street. You rouse yourself only when he slaps your leg and says, "Hey. Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" You look around. You're stopped at a light. Marc grabs your chin and swings your face toward his. "Don't pass out on me, okay?" His expression is unreadable in the dark.<br/>
<br/>
"I won't," you say, more in hope than expectation. "Where we going?"<br/>
<br/>
"Someplace you can sleep it off. Man, you sure had a good time, didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome. She called me 'sweetie'."<br/>
<br/>
"She did?" Marc laughs, and slaps your thigh again. "That's awesome. She likes you."<br/>
<br/>
"I like her," you sigh, and put your head back against the window. Marc talks some more, but you don't hear him clearly, and only grunt in reply.<br/>
<br/>
It's a very long time -- but only an instant later -- that the car stops and the motor cuts out. The dome light comes on when a door opens, and it goes off when it closes. Your own door opens, and hands catch you as you fall out of the car. "Come on, buddy, you said you weren't going to pass out on me." With an infinite effort, which still can't get you to your feet under your own power, you stagger upward as Marc pulls you up. With his arm around you, and your arm over his shoulder, he helps you into a yawning doorway and down some steps. "Careful, careful," he says. He lays you on a hard surface, then pulls something soft and warm up around your legs and torso, until you are cocooned all around. "Good night, Will." His voice comes from a very long way off. "See you in the morning. Well, someone will."<br/>
<br/>
You spin in the darkness, like a top, even as you lay deathly still atop a -- <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your mouth is parched and your throat feels swollen when you claw your eyes open. Dim light seeps in from somewhere. A chill seeps up from the hard surface you're laying on.<br/>
<br/>
Where are you?<br/>
<br/>
You'll figure that out later. You close your eyes again.<br/>
<br/>
When next you open them the painful thirst is enough to get you to move, and with muscles stiff as planks you shift and turn over and blink. <br/>
<br/>
You're in the elementary school basement, wrapped in a sleeping bag, and laying on a wide conference table -- but it takes a moment before you believe the evidence of your senses. You're in your clothes and you fumble for your phone. The clock says it's ten-thirty. You rub your eyes and lay back down.<br/>
<br/>
How did you get here?<br/>
<br/>
You bolt upright, and gasp with pain as spasms rack your muscles. Son of a bitch, you need to get up and get warmed up before you hurt yourself. You kick your way free of the sleeping bag and roll off the table to your feet. A couple of deep stretches give you the strength to slowly mount the stairs to the door. You peer outside. The coast is clear. You text Braydon and Christian both, telling them you're awake and asking them to call you.<br/>
<br/>
But it was Marc Garner who brought you out here last night -- early this morning, rather. How did Marc know about this place?<br/>
<br/>
After you've warmed up with a walk around the school, and after you've quenched your thirst by gulping from an outside faucet, your brain has woken up enough that you reach the obvious conclusion.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yeah, you were pretty out of it," Braydon says. He laughs silently while sipping at his coffee. "You called me 'sweetie' a couple of times."<br/>
<br/>
"I was talking about Bethany," you bridle. You glare over his shoulder out the window of the donut shop. He picked you up at a little after eleven and took you out for a junk-food brunch. Your digestion is a little rough, but you need the caffeine, so you're gently nursing your own coffee and only nibbling on a glazed donut.<br/>
<br/>
"No, you were talking to me too," says Braydon. "I'm not surprised you don't remember."<br/>
<br/>
"Why did you come looking for me? I texted you, told you that Marc was there."<br/>
<br/>
"I came out because Christian had gone home, and I noticed Marc leaving at around three, so I knew I could get in under his mask. That's who I went larping as." He looks over your shoulder as he sips from his cup. "I watched you for awhile, and when Bethany started to take you out I stepped in." He sips again, and his eyebrows arch worriedly. "So do you like her enough for another date?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "I think so." His tone worries you. "Any reason I shouldn't?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Only, you know -- " His shoulders jerk, and his expression tenses. "Gonna be hard to larp <i>and</i> go out with her in a serious way."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122311111213111331111223
author_id: seuzz
title: Imposters in Unexpected Places
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You and Gillian keep things going," you retort to Braydon's comment, "even though you're doing a ton of larping."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon runs a pale tongue over his bottom lip. "Well, she knows about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you saying I should tell Bethany about this stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! No!" His eyes pop. "What I mean is -- " He hunches his shoulders. "Look, if you're out larping, then you're not going to be with Bethany."<br/>
<br/>
"So I won't be with her!" You don't mean to yell, but Braydon is being very exasperating. "It's not like you're always with Gillian." You gasp. "Wait a minute!"<br/>
<br/>
You see it now, in his eyes, even as the same idea occurs to you. "And whenever I do have to be with her, but I want to be out larping -- " You snap your finger. "I'll do like you. I'll send my golem to be with her."<br/>
<br/>
You expect Braydon to wince or gasp at that, but instead he grins. "So you'd still be up for larping?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure!" But then you can't help backpedaling a little. "In principle, I mean," you stammer. It depends on how much I want to hang out with, uh -- " You still can't say the words easily, since they don't apply yet. "With my girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon smiles. "Excellent. So let's take you back to the school."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And speaking of your golem: He is not long in appearing after Braydon has dropped you off, and he's flashing a bright and cheerful smile, as though he's the one that just got back from a date. "So how was it?" he asks as he jogs up.<br/>
<br/>
"It was great and I'm worn out," you reply as you gesture him down into the basement. "I just wanna go home and pass out."<br/>
<br/>
"Like you're gonna get a chance," he chortles. "Dad's got so many chores planned for you. Glad it's gonna be you doing them and not -- Uh -- " He pales as you turn round on him with a gaping mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"Chores? Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like nothing," he says, turning red. "Like sleeping. Come on, let's get -- "<br/>
<br/>
You stop him with a hand to the chest. "Tell me the truth, asshole. What's Dad got planned?"<br/>
<br/>
Through gritted teeth, your doppelganger rattles off a list of exhausting jobs -- dusting and vacuuming and washing windows and raking leaves, for a start. You spin your double on his heel and send him jogging home with orders to come back out to the school after supper when the chores are all done.<br/>
<br/>
With nothing else to do, you call Caleb and ask if he can hang out. You've not seen a lot of him outside school lately, and you've got gloating to do. He's unenthusiastic, but says he'll pick you up.<br/>
<br/>
"So, I went out to the Warehouse last night," you say in an offhand way as you relax in the passenger-side seat of his car. "What did you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me, I caught a flight to New York, hung out with Robert Downey Jr., Only got back in time for breakfast," he replies.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm serious," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm as serious as you are," he calmly replies. He looks over at you. "If you got into the Warehouse, why didn't you ask me and Keith along?"<br/>
<br/>
"Would you ask Keith along? And you'd freak out if you got in there. There were a couple of fights, and I think one guy had to get taken to an urgent care unit."<br/>
<br/>
"And you fit right in," he snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, no one gave me any shit about being there." Except for Joshua Call, but you're practically telling the truth. "Ask Marc Garner when you see him Monday. I hung out with him." You sigh with deep contentment.<br/>
<br/>
"Where are we going?" Caleb asks. "I mean, where am I going, after I drop you off at the psych ward?"<br/>
<br/>
"Suffolk Wilderness," you reply for no reason you can name. "I gotta stay outta my dad's hair, and that's as far away as -- "<br/>
<br/>
"And your <i>dad</i> was okay with you going out to the Warehouse?"<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't know. I arranged an alibi, so don't say anything to him about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Can I text him about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. And just ask Marc the next time you see him. Yeah, and I was there with Bethany Lewis -- Oh, did I mention we were on a date and that's how we wound up there?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is looking very haggard by now. "No, Will, you didn't. Would you like to mention it now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we went and ate at Panera, then we got coffee, then we went out to the Warehouse. Music was great, and I got kinda wasted, but in a good, fun way. Oh, you know Jordana Trujillo? Maybe I could set it up so next time so you guys can double date with me and Betha -- Ow!" You laugh as Caleb hits you. "Whatsamatter?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're the matter. I'm gonna take you out to Suffolk and leave you there."<br/>
<br/>
"Bethany's got lots of friends. I bet I could set you up with one."<br/>
<br/>
He shoots you a slit-eyed glance. "Let's just see how long you last with her.<br/>
<br/>
It's a beautiful fall day, so there are a lot of cars in the Suffolk parking area. Most of them are families with small children that you and Caleb pass as you hike along one of the easy trails. You only go in about half a mile before sitting on a large, fallen log in the shade. Having gotten your need to gloat out of your system, you offer Caleb a half apology and explain that you're just so relieved and happy to have made a connection with a girl so beautiful and sexy as Bethany that you can't bottle it up. "Yeah, I get it," he says. "I'll do the same thing to you when I get a girl." You bite back the too-cute retort that he'll never get a girl, and just tell him that you know he will.<br/>
<br/>
You're silently enjoying the soft breeze and cool air when with a thunder of feet a crowd of high school boys go running by. They're shirtless in jogging shorts and jogging shoes, and they're halfway by before you recognize them as the Westside soccer squad. "Hey! Marc!" you shout to Garner, who is two-thirds down the line. He turns around, jogging backwards, then stops and with a cheerful nod of the head hustles back up to you. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you guys up for a run?" he pants. His face and chest are glowing, and sweat pours off his brow.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, no, can't believe you are after last night," you retort. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I'm used to it," he says as he wipes his brow. "Anyway, this is a scheduled run, couldn't miss it. I am the team captain, you know."<br/>
<br/>
Now you realize why you must have suggested a stop at the Wilderness: Marc mentioned this run last night. You nudge Caleb. "Go on, ask him where I was last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Was Will at the Warehouse with you last night?" he asks in a dull tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," Marc grins. "I even took him home. Well, sort of. Four in the morning, man," he laughs. "You and Bethany outlasted almost everyone but the closers." He nods at you again, and takes off back after his teammates.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
For a long moment you sit frozen to the log. Then you explode off it and sprint after him with a yell. He turns with a frown, slowing up. "Braydon," you shout through gritted teeth.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright. Christian."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Which one are you, Braydon or Christian?"<br/>
<br/>
Garner's face twisted up in puzzlement. "What do you mean, which one am I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you Braydon, or Christian? Because you're one of them."<br/>
<br/>
He looks utterly bewildered. "What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know it's you -- I mean, it's got to be one of you, wearing a mask. You fucked up back there. Marc didn't take me home, it was Braydon wearing the mask!"<br/>
<br/>
You don't know why you're making a big deal of it, except that it feels good to catch a larper making a mistake.<br/>
<br/>
But Marc is only gaping at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course it was me who took you back that elementary school. Were you too wasted to remember right? I tucked you in and everything." He glances down the trail after his teammates. "Look, I gotta catch up to the guys. Call me later, we'll see if I can get you out to Kelsey's party tonight. Get you a serious buzz." He claps you on the arm and leaps away.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb comes walking up. "What was that about?"<br/>
<br/>
Your chest feels very cold and very tight as you draw a deep breath. "You know where Christian Knouse lives?" you reply. "I need you to take me out there and drop me off."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Christian sprawls on the bed, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes relaxed shut. He looks just like he did a minute ago, except he was awake then.<br/>
<br/>
But he had a mask on him then. Now you've got it in your hand. A mask whose inner surface is the dull white color of a golem's skin. His name -- RUSSELL CHRISTIAN KNOUSE -- glows on its inner surface.<br/>
<br/>
He shouldn't be able to wear a mask of himself. The only way he could wear a mask of himself is if this mask is under the control of someone else.<br/>
<br/>
And the only person it could be under the control of is Braydon Delp.</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223111112131113311112231
author_id: wordsmitty
title: A new target
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“What’s the last thing you remember?”<br/>
<br/>
Just a confused look remains on Christian’s face. He’s only a few seconds awake. The waiting seemed like hours after you set the mask aside rather than put him back under, although it was probably only fifteen minutes at most.<br/>
<br/>
It wasn’t that hard of a decision to free him after you struggled the mask off him. Your gut said it just wasn’t right for Braydon to golem-paste Christian’s mask using Braydon’s hair even if he had good reasons. You hope he did, but getting those will have to wait. You want to hear Christian’s side first. Hopefully, he’ll be reasonable. If not, … well, you can always put the mask back on him and deal with Braydon by yourself.<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, Will. When did ya . . .”<br/>
<br/>
“What’s the last thing you remember before waking up just now?” you demand.<br/>
<br/>
“Um, ah, Braydon showed up with my mask and said I should get the memories in it before you got here. I wanted to wait but he shoved the mask on too quickly.” Your expectant stare has him continue after a few seconds. “Well, Braydon was explaining how you agreed that we should protect our masks with that new paste and not let others … Where is he?”<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it is your sigh and look away from him or perhaps it's just then that his thoughts reach the conclusion of what happened, but he is now very alert.<br/>
<br/>
“That little shit.”<br/>
<br/>
At least he didn’t burst into a full rage, although Christian’s game attitude is always to think through and plan things out. It’s probably why he hadn’t taken over anyone like this. After all he had discovered the spell in the book for the paste to make a mask controlled by someone.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. He had some of the goop for putting in masks to control them. He plucked a hair from my head.” His hand went up to behind his left ear. “Then he said that I should get the memories in my mask while he mixed it in. I didn’t want to, but he pushed it on before I could stop him.”<br/>
<br/>
He falls back on his bed and stares at the ceiling. “I guess I should have seen it coming, the way he was describing how we could larp as anyone since we could just put them under their own mask with one of us as the controller of the mask. I told him that didn’t seem right. He kept trying to convince me, but I just didn’t want to do it even if you and he had agreed. How long has it been?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s just Saturday,” you mumble almost as a whisper. His head shoots up obviously wondering what Saturday. “Only a few days. I just figured it out this afternoon. You see . . .”<br/>
<br/>
You explain what you had done with Justin’s mind band and the warehouse, having “Marc” take you to the old elementary school then meeting him the next day in the woods. However, you left out any discussion about collecting others and plans on going larping with Braydon.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks for releasing me, Will,” he says as he gets up. “So what do we do about Braydon? Would love to pull something on him. Not to be mean exactly, but just to prank him back, or . . .  is it safe to let him continue?”<br/>
<br/>
Good question, one that you hadn’t even considered. You were just planning to have fun, but now you’re starting to see that taking over a person completely, even if just using their image, is doing much more, like voiding the real person by leaving them under a mask. That’s what Braydon has done to Marc. How can you ever let him, and any others he may have done, out after a length of time and explain their amnesia? Obviously, he wasn’t planning on letting Christian out, at least any time soon or he would have told you he did this. He just wanted to control him so he could keep larping as ever he wanted. He can’t do the same to you because your mask has you as the controlling person. But what would he do if you didn’t go along with him - make a new mask and copy you then put his paste in it?<br/>
<br/>
Christian is just turning his mask over and over in his hands thoughtfully, fortunately not pushing you for an answer, especially since you don’t really have one. After all the time you spent under Braydon’s mask and getting to know how he thinks and acts, you feel that you should be able to figure this out, but his memories have faded along with his drives and desires. Besides, this side of him seems foreign. You think he’s just “playing” with magic like he always wanted, but has something snapped or turned him to ignore right and wrong.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I guess, this is pretty much useless,” Christian sighs as he tosses the mask aside. “You can’t even use it to set me up with Meg now,” he grins before it fades since that’s when he got trapped.<br/>
<br/>
If only you hadn’t let Braydon convince you to let him do it and go over to Christian’s. He must have had the golem paste for the mask when he talked to you. He must have been planning it all along. Now you remember that he didn’t seem so surprised when you told him what Christian had uncovered. Braydon probably had snuck in and gotten the book to see the spell.<br/>
<br/>
“So, where’s the book? Do you have it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Braydon suggested …, said you wanted to set up the three key lock back in the old school basement. I assume it’s there along with most of the other masks from before. You, uh, got them from Chen when I met. “you” there to seal my mask. Braydon didn’t come but gave you his key.”<br/>
<br/>
Before you realised, Christian’s hand came out of his pocket with two keys.<br/>
<br/>
“Looks like we have free reign of the castle. I say we pull off a campaign against Braydon,” he smirks.<br/>
<br/>
* * *<br/>
<br/>
Carving ruins in a new mind band in the old school basement keeps your mind off what Braydon did to Christian and now Marc, as well as figuring out how to solve the latter. Christian’s polishing a new mask to use in the campaign that he’s convinced you to take against Braydon. Confronting Braydon directly might be the proper approach, but you’d rather avoid conflict. It's almost like the school bullies. You feel more confident in numbers even if it's just you and Christian. Since all you just want is to have fun with these, you got quickly drawn into Christian’s idea even though you still hope to larp with Braydon.<br/>
<br/>
“So how’s he pulling off impersonating Marc and jumping back and forth? We have to plan how to get to him.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, actually, he wore the mask overnight and got Marc’s memories. Plus he’s staying Marc for several days and using a stand-in for himself.”<br/>
<br/>
“Days? I wonder what Gillian thinks of that and keeping up appearances with a fake since he tells her everything. Er, the stand-in not a live person she knows I mean. Too bad she never wanted to be part of this stuff or a campaign.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well,” you admit. “He’s not telling her about this new spell, what he’s doing with it, or that there’s a substitute.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re kidding?” There’s only a short pause before his demeanor becomes excited. “That’s perfect. He’s using her. So, per campaign rules, she’s a part of this by that. If we could convince her to work with us? Or we can capture her and hold her until he discovers and surrenders. Or just get a mask of her and use it to trick him. Make her mask a golem and do what we want or …” There’s a long pause as he looks at you and raises one eyebrow. “One of us could impersonate her.”<br/>
<br/>
As shocking as his suggestions are, they excite you, more than mentally. When you were playing Braydon, Gillian had eventually warmed up to you, even once suggesting she was willing to go further than kissing when you were physically his duplicate. You had put friendship first and declined. The same feeling has you not sure you should “capture” her or use her without consent. The strange thing is that it was Christian’s last statement that teased you the most.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212231111121311133111122311
author_id: wordsmitty
title: One girl and another
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Growling hunger - that sugar donut and coffee rush has burned out from this turbulence and more time to think on Christian’s campaign - has you get him to take you out for a late lunch at the local burger joint. It’s mid-afternoon with plenty of folks from Westside, Eastman and Keyserling coming in and out or hanging around talking or fiddling with their phones. Some you know or Christian knows, but everyone’s got things to do and don’t try to join you. There’s enough noise from the people and the blaring music on the sound system that you can talk about this without anyone overhearing, once you get some food in you.<br/>
<br/>
“Why don't we use Howie or Darrell? They're already in on this,” you try as an alternative even as the excitement about Gillian keeps percolating within you.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you really want to explain what's happening to them? Might as well just let them wear your mask overnight and get all your thoughts.”<br/>
<br/>
“But shouldn't we figure out what's made Braydon go rogue and just convince him ...”<br/>
<br/>
“It doesn't matter why Braydon has gone rogue. He'll see it more clearly if we demonstrate it.” He leans in as he continues, “just like explaining these masks won't convince anyone until they put one on.”<br/>
<br/>
“And what are we demonstrating?”<br/>
<br/>
Christian flops back in his seat with a sigh. “That friends don't fuck up friends.”<br/>
<br/>
“So we fuck up Gillian so ...”<br/>
<br/>
“NO! We need to use a vulnerability to focus on for the campaign to attack. There’s two reasons that we should use her. She’s close to Braydon, and he wouldn’t expect it.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about her? How do you think she’d feel being used since she’s always refused to get involved in anything? She’s been neutral, and isn’t that the idea of neutrality?”<br/>
<br/>
“We’re not attacking her or doing anything to her. We’re just using her to get Braydon’s attention and to show him that he shouldn’t just do things because everything has consequences.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know, but aren’t we doing the same thing he’s doing to others, like Marc? How do we explain the missing time? What if something serious happens that she won’t have memories for?”<br/>
<br/>
“Look, we can release Marc easily. He could be running and take a fall, bump his head. The mask comes off, and he gets a little amnesia. Happens in sports all the time.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. I can see that. But why can’t we just convince her to help us get to Braydon? Wouldn’t that be simpler?”<br/>
<br/>
“How will you convince her to betray her hubby? Tell her what he’s doing and hope she doesn’t get pissed at him or at us so that she refuses or just betrays us? It’s better if she’s kept uninformed about the campaign. It also leaves it up to Braydon to decide how to explain his actions in deceiving her rather than us ratting him out.”<br/>
<br/>
You slump back and slurp out the straw a few last drops of your Pepsi. He’s right. Trying to convince her is bound to let more things out as well as be hard to change her allegiance to Braydon. There also doesn’t seem to be any better way to get to Braydon than using her. Plus, it would have a far bigger impact that someone so close could be unknowingly used so that he would see that together you need to trust each other.<br/>
<br/>
“OK. But I don’t want her mask to be used by anyone.”<br/>
<br/>
“I guess we can use it on a golem; they have no personalities or memories of their own.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I mean it needs to be sealed so no one can access it, not leave it available after it comes off the golem.”<br/>
<br/>
“We can’t just use anyone’s hair. It has to obey someone.” He pauses before a light comes on. “Oh, I see.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t want to access it either. Nothing against you. I’d rather there was some other way.”<br/>
<br/>
With it settled to get a mask of Gillian, you gather your trash and head for the bins making sure to sort the plastic and garbage. As you walk through the crowd, you think a few people are throwing glances your way while they talk and look at a phone. You’re sure they are discussing you, but maybe you’re just paranoid about what you’re doing with masks and Gillian.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
The two of you make a couple stops to gather a few supplies then head back to the old school basement. Christian forms another mask while you set to work on a second mind band.<br/>
<br/>
“I wish we had a mask of Braydon. It would sure make it easier to get to Gillian,” Christian offers as he tries to fan away the stink of the flame from lighting the mask.<br/>
<br/>
“Why didn’t you do that outside?” you cry as the fumes rile your sinuses and water your eyes. “He sealed his mask, so we’ll never use it.”<br/>
<br/>
Christian eventually stops coughing long enough to reply, “Do we really want anyone to see us making this? Hey, have you contacted your girlfriend today?” he teases.<br/>
<br/>
“Um, no. Not sure I should rush it too quick.”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe we could get Braydon’s golem to get a mask on Gillian.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not going to take orders from either of us.”<br/>
<br/>
After closing the door again and setting the mask down, he stops still then turns to you. ’What if it thought the orders came from Braydon, though?”<br/>
<br/>
“Neither of us can imitate his voice even if we called him on the phone.”<br/>
<br/>
“But if it thinks that I’m under Braydon’s control and bringing orders to it, …?”<br/>
<br/>
“Long shot. Best we have a positive plan to use.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I have to go. You need a ride?”<br/>
<br/>
“Gotta wait for Will Number 2 to come back after he finishes the chores. We’ll catch up tomorrow and set up the campaign.”<br/>
<br/>
* * * * <br/>
<br/>
The work continues to drag, and there’s a couple hours at least until your relief arrives. You decide to leave the polishing for it and take a break to check your phone. There’s a text from Tilley that just has a Snapchat web address that you ignore. There’s also a text from Braydon asking if you have time to discuss more about larping. It’s probably to join as you promised. You really need to reply to him. Hopefully, he hasn’t put anyone else under a golem mask. You shake that thought away and steel yourself with a few deep breaths before you text him.<br/>
<br/>
<i>hey whatup?<br/>
<br/>
Want to larp?<br/>
<br/>
2 xhaust 2morrow?<br/>
<br/>
k  4 switchover?</i><br/>
<br/>
It takes you a few moments to connect that he means switching over into Marc so he can start a week as him. A jealous thrill at what he's doing has to be squashed.<br/>
<br/>
<i>sure let me know</i><br/>
<br/>
With that taken care of, you play a few games to kill time waiting for your golem. However, your mind keeps going back to last night and Bethany. You should call or text . . . or not.<br/>
<br/>
Instead you skip back to Tilley’s text and check the link. Holy shit! There’s pictures of you and Bethany from last night with a bunch of snide comments. Well, not all are snips about you especially the comments on the comments. When you follow a few names to Facebook, you end up on Bethany’s page where her comments settle you with enough courage to at least send her a text.<br/>
<br/>
<i>hey?<br/>
<br/>
Hi how u doing<br/>
<br/>
fine hope I wasnt too obnoxious<br/>
<br/>
no had great time thx 4 coming<br/>
<br/>
thx 4 invite</i> - you pause before sending then add - <i>see you again?<br/>
<br/>
definitely <img alt="*Smile*" border="0" class="emoteZ" height="15" loading="lazy" src="https://images2.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/e21/smile.png" style="" title="Smile" width="15"/></i><br/>
<br/>
Your whole mood suddenly glows, and all this mask stuff with Braydon disappears. This girl seems to like you. Maybe you should push it and ask her out on a real date. But maybe it’s too soon. But should you pass up the opportunity? Would it be too soon? But if you wait too long or just get together as a group? “Not really dating” rings in your head. But what if you ask, and it conflicts with larping with Braydon or the campaign to bring him back to reality? <i>OR</i> she says no? Do you really want to date Bethany only through memories from your golem?<br/>
<br/>
Your hands are sweating and time is passing without you replying. An emoj of a monkey hanging by his tail wrapped around his own neck and choking him forms in your head.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122311111213111331111223112
author_id: wordsmitty
title: An unexpected viewpoint
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As much as you’d like to ask her out and see her tonight or tomorrow, you need to get things straight with all this mask stuff. Braydon’s right that if you want to larp that it will cut into being with your, it’s still hard to think it, girlfriend. You could use your golem as a stand-in on the real date, but what’s the sense of having a girlfriend if it’s just a vicarious relationship living through memory transfer from a mask worn by a stone image. Those Snapchat comments said you were over-acting trying to impress. Too quickly going for a date will seem like that. Besides, if she likes you, she'll wait – a little while.<br/>
<br/>
<i>talk monday<br/>
<br/>
sure<br/>
<br/>
bye<br/>
<br/>
take care</i><br/>
<br/>
* * * *   <br/>
<br/>
Your golem arrives boasting of his excellent job with chores, not complaining, that garnered him twenty bucks from your dad. You reward him with another chore: polishing the masks Christian made. You also relieve him of the cash. He whines pitifully which you hope is not how you ever really sound. However, you discover that you can just direct him to change to a happy mood and enjoy the job. After swapping clothes, he's merrily humming a tune while working. It makes you wonder how far one could go to changing someone's personality with a mask on a golem . . . <i>or</i> change a person wearing a golemized mask of themselves.<br/>
<br/>
* * * * <br/>
<br/>
No word from Braydon or Christian Sunday morning, but you have church with family anyway. There you find out you’re expected home early for dinner because your Aunt, Uncle, and cousin will be over. There’s no time to go out and do anything, so you text Caleb and Keith to waste the afternoon online pretending to be Joe Jedi stud collecting rewards from blasting beasts and bums.<br/>
<br/>
Masks are forgotten until you get a text from Braydon on larping. He's ready to switch once Gillian leaves. It's cut short by your dad calling you down when your relatives arrive, so you agree to text him when you're free. Just as you finish, one from Christian arrives asking to help arrange a meeting with Gillian, probably to get a mask. You text back your situation and that Braydon is with her but about to switch to Marc. He replies, "will handle it."<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, everyone departs not too long after dinner, although you wish your cousin could stay longer since you were getting along well in spite of Robert's annoying attentions. However, you're quickly antsy about the larp but mostly about getting a mask of Gillian. The tingling from that thought isn't in your head. Because of your golem's good work, your dad just waves you out when you say you're meeting some friends.<br/>
<br/>
There's no answer from Christian, so you just leave a message to text you latter. Braydon, though is unusually hyper when you call him saying he's found the perfect person for you to larp as. He won’t say who but tells you to put in your substitute and meet him by an old store that you're unfamiliar with. He gives you exacting directions insisting you walk the last few blocks.<br/>
<br/>
Leaving your alternate with instructions to finish up then to head home and check <i>his</i> homework, he starts to whine but about-faces quickly when you tell him he gets to go to school as you especially after you remember that he needs to talk to Bethany. Hopefully, he won't mess up any worse than you would; you will probably be back by day's end.<br/>
<br/>
The landmarks Braydon described are obvious, and you wonder why the weird clandestine approach as you pass a dark storefront. Something suddenly slaps you and tears away your consciousness.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
As your eyes flutter open, you’re confused on how you got back to your room. Light is coming in and soft music is playing, getting louder, which you recognize as a phone alarm. The last thing you remember is kissing Braydon.<br/>
<br/>
Wait! That’s not you. That’s Gillian. You pop up in bed to see her staring at you. Your shout never comes out as you realize her face is in the mirror on the door back. It's really you. Scanning around reveals your room - hers, Gillian's. You’ve got her memories, and definitely you're in her body. <i>You're in a girl's body!</i><br/>
<br/>
A girl's body. Shock, excitement, fear, joy, and embarrassment conflict your brain to paralysis. Maybe it's a dream, a fantasy, an answer that you've wondered at since puberty, a deep hidden desire to stop imagining and actually feel what it's like to - be - a - girl. Or it's a curse.<br/>
<br/>
You don't move and keep staring at the reflection until something inside has you blink and shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Get a grip, Gillian. You've been a girl for almost eighteen years. What's setting you off like anything's different?</i><br/>
<br/>
Picking up the phone, it’s Monday morning. Her instincts push you to get ready for school. There’s already noises in the house, or apartment, that she shares with her parents. Your mom will be dressed finishing breakfast in the open-concept kitchen living area where the only outside door is. There’s no way you can remove the mask and sneak out. It's a second floor window, too far to drop. Besides, Gillian can't just disappear. You’ll have to go to school and try to figure out what happened.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit! WTF?</i> you think as you toss off the jersey she uses as a nightgown and put on a bra and panties like it's normal. It all feels normal. It's just your mind, Will's mind, is uncomfortable, at least anything that has to do with seeing or touching Gillian's body, no matter how enticing that is. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Who did this? Braydon?</i> His name raises Gillian's most pleasant memories . . . <i>TMI</i>. Fortunately, Gillian takes over whisking away those images like nothing special, and you fade into riding along, getting dressed, then staying calm as she leads you down to your new family.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
The buzz of your phone is a text from Braydon. "<i>pickup in 5</i>" <br/>
<br/>
He usually gives you a ride to school, and your parents are fine with him even in his current phase. They’ve known him and his family for years and are very accepting of just about anything as long as it isn’t violent or illegal. That’s why they don’t mind if he brings you home late, after they’ve turned in.<br/>
<br/>
Anxious and upset, you walk to the car. Since he said he was planning to be Marc all week, you doubt it's really him. If he somehow found out or caught Christian and decided to prank you with her mask, you wonder what he’s done with Gillian. Her feelings are very strong about not doing the magic masks. That’s not to say that she didn’t enjoy Braydon having other bodies and fooling around with him as those. You know, although don't check the memories, that it was a real turn-on for her, and it wasn’t really cheating which she would never do. Well, almost never. She did offer to you when playing Braydon after the incident with Cal.<br/>
<br/>
Was it Christian? He said he would handle getting with Gillian. Maybe he staked out Braydon and got the golem to actually get a mask of Gillian. You may have talked to the golem who lured you so Christian could . . . But why would he do that to you? It's more likely that Christian got caught by Braydon, and he put you in Gillian's mask to teach you a lesson like you were going to teach him. But again, would Braydon do that to Gillian? Has Braydon really gone that far into the dark even if he did enslave Christian?<br/>
<br/>
As you get into the car, you ask with Gillian’s icy tone, “So, are you the real deal?”<br/>
<br/>
“Look. I’m as real as anyone here.” When you roll your eyes, he adds, “I was just told to tell you that we need to play this fully “in character”." He air-quotes.<br/>
<br/>
“And why shouldn’t I just rip your face off?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well,” he smirks. “you can’t be me with it, and you can’t be a second you, so you need to be who you are right now and just keep your head about you when all others are losing theirs before they blame it all on you,” he laughs. “Besides, you don’t know what could happen before you wake up if you lose face.” Another chuckle. “Now just relax and let me be your hubby.” He pats your knee as the car zips around a corner and you slide towards him.<br/>
<br/>
“You know, there may be a quickie divorce.”<br/>
<br/>
"A quickie, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
You bat his arm and scoot against the door, although that's just what endears him so much to you - Gillian - which almost has you smile.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
At school you pout and give him the cold shoulder even avoiding him all morning. You don't have classes with either Marc Garner or Christian, so your only chance is to find them at lunch. However, Gillian doesn't know Marc, so it would be hard to approach him or get him alone to talk. Plus if it's really Braydon under a mask of Marc, he will probably deny everything to Gillian especially if he didn't do it. He did say he had the perfect person for you to larp as. Maybe that is Gillian, and you should go find him.<br/>
<br/>
By lunch you're still in a quandary of who to approach. As you get in line to pick up some salad in the cafeteria, you see Christian with Braydon, Howie, and Darrell. It would be very awkward to maneuver Christian away with you. Besides he could be under his mask again if Braydon caught him. He would probably be instructed to deny anything to you. You need to check if he has a mask which you can't do in public.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Damn.</i> You had hoped today you would be speaking to Bethany at lunch. That makes you scan for your golem. He's not about, so maybe he is with Bethany - instead of you. You do see some others that Gillian and you both know - Jenny, Carson, James, and Yumi. It wouldn't be odd to sit with them as you continue your spat ignoring Braydon. <br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223111112131113311112231122
author_id: wordsmitty
title: What others think
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“So," James asks as you send your fork into the greens, "are you finally giving up on the freak and ready for …?”<br/>
<br/>
Jenny bats him hard. “You guys are always saying dumb things. - You aren’t are you?”<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "Not that bad. Just temporary."<br/>
<br/>
“There are other guys interested, besides the jerk here.” She elbows him again.<br/>
<br/>
“If Will Prescott can date Bethany Lewis, anything is possible.”<br/>
<br/>
"Did you see those pictures? I wouldn't have believed it."<br/>
<br/>
"He'd been moping after Yarburough ever since Mansfield got hold of her."<br/>
<br/>
"More likely, she's got him. Not that way, you jerk," she adds as his smirk gets him punched from both sides.<br/>
<br/>
"She's just waiting to latch on to someone to pull up her status. Not that there's anything wrong with Will."<br/>
<br/>
"For a dork."<br/>
<br/>
"Like you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing that a more mature attitude and leaving behind those middle-school style clothes wouldn't fix."<br/>
<br/>
"All guys need to grow up."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!"<br/>
<br/>
"He's a nice guy, we all know that. Just needs to find himself and not try to be someone else."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like he was trying hard at the warehouse as if he was someone else."<br/>
<br/>
"He just needs a little confidence."<br/>
<br/>
"Looks like he got some from someone by those pics with Bethany."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe 'cause she's not a bitch like Yarburough the real Will came through."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I think it's for the better, for Will."<br/>
<br/>
"She's a good person. Not uppity like Lisa. I worked with her on a project last year."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I hope it works out for them."<br/>
<br/>
"They would make a cute couple."<br/>
<br/>
All that talk about Lisa, how she used you, then how people saw you and her, you never knew that people thought of you that way or saw Lisa like that. She seemed so nice and wonderful and beautiful and . . .<br/>
<br/>
<i>That's why he was so easy to tease at first. So naive but . . .</i><br/>
<br/>
Gillian's thought and memory sends you drifting into introspection about how you could improve especially with Bethany. You ponder how to change like they've said, but can you be confident around girls, the ones you're interested in not just friends, without using a mind band of someone who does have it. You can feel Gillian's confidence now boosting your own. It's hard to determine if you won't wilt like when Gillian teased you at King Kong Komics. You really wish you could swap with your golem and just be making a relationship with Bethany to build your confidence.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think Gillian? I saw you with him a couple times last week."<br/>
<br/>
This shifts your thoughts and opens Gillian's memories, but you pull the shade on those unsure if you should or want to know what she thinks of you. If they only hadn't spotted her with Braydon in your mask. The two of you didn't really interact until the masks, but you are curious about what her thoughts of you are especially since that kiss and offer to do it with you while in Braydon's mask even though she knew it was you. Would she do it with Braydon's golem if she knew it was a golem? You're stuck wondering back and forth until Yumi prods you back to the conversation. <br/>
<br/>
"Gillian?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know - Will - Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"He and Braydon have been doing something." You take a forkful of salad that remains hoping they'll move on.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but what do you think of him?"<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, Gillian has good reactions to this type of situation, so you shrug and chew trying to not let her memories and thoughts about you breach your consciousness. It's so easy to let a personality and memories just guide you in a mask, but it's really hard not to be fully immersed. Sometimes it's hard to not even believe you're really that person and Will Prescott is just a character from some book or movie. You could so easily just stay as Gillian and not worry how or who got you here.<br/>
<br/>
"More important, what do you think of leaving that . . . ah, Braydon?" Carson coos.<br/>
<br/>
"She's probably thinking of having Braydon put a curse on you," Jenny hisses as she bats his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
Chuckling, James adds, "A curse would probably help."<br/>
<br/>
Their conversation shifts leaving you to your own thoughts. Maybe you should take the Braydon golem back to the portables and see if it is a golem or Marc or someone else underneath. It's not like you would swap, obviously since it's a golem mask, but that might help you figure out who did this to you.<br/>
<br/>
What about Christian's idea of fooling the Braydon golem that you have a message from the real Braydon? Perhaps you can get it to tell you the truth or more of what it knows by faking that. From dealing with your golem, it seems that they act more like a caricature of the person or, at least, somewhat exaggerated actions or reflections of the real person at times, like how it joked this morning in the car. That may be how you can manipulate it with promises.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you could just screw this mask crap and get your golem to meet you and swap with it. Let Braydon and Christian do whatever to Gillian. Although you feel guilty from letting Christian talk you into it and letting her suffer. But you don't want to miss out with Bethany or have your golem ruin things. Then again, maybe your instructions have given it a different personality than your "shy, dorky" self, like how you changed it's mood yesterday by just commanding it. It may be setting you up for success, but the real you would come back and go into "not really dating" mode and lose her.<br/>
<br/>
It is just so frustrating not being in control and knowing everything or having Gillian's memory and knowing too much about her. She likes being the girl with the odd guy and not being part of any particular group but accepted by most. Besides Braydon does have some really good points which still come through even when he's in a different body. You close your eyes with a deep breath to dismiss that image and sigh.<br/>
<br/>
"Want to talk about it?" Jenny leans over to ask quietly. She sees James and Carson look over expectantly, and adds while giving them a 'get lost' look, "Not here, of course."<br/>
<br/>
If only you could. What you want to talk about is not what she thinks is your spat with Braydon. Well, in some aspects it is, but you can't start telling her about masks and stuff or that you're really Will. However, you do wish you could talk to someone to help figure this out. Even your body double might do. That leads you back to Braydon and Christian to find out why and who set you up as Gillian and what happen to her?<br/>
<br/>
Maybe just text Christian to meet you to talk about Braydon and no one else would know or be suspicious. Whether he's under a mask or not, he'll just think you want to talk about being upset with Braydon. Get him alone and a quick check to see if he's in a mask will answer one question and, hopefully, allow you to get more.<br/>
<br/>
"No. That's OK. Thanks." You smile to reassure her. "I've got it figured out."<br/>
<br/>
At least you hope you do.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223111112131113311112232
author_id: seuzz
title: Deductions and Confessions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stare down at Christian's chalky face. Maybe it's your imagination, but it looks the same color as the inside of the mask you took off him.<br/>
<br/>
Perhaps it's some ghastly mistake. Or it's some aspect of the magic spells that you don't understand, or which you haven't been told about. Maybe there's some innocent explanation.<br/>
<br/>
But you doubt there is.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb dropped you off at Christian's after a fraught sprint and drive out of Suffolk Wilderness. It was the talk with Marc Garner that set off your suspicions. He had claimed he was Marc, but had remembered taking you out of the Warehouse last night and leaving you off at the elementary school. But Braydon had taken credit for that, saying he did it while wearing Marc's mask. <br/>
<br/>
It took a bit for it to sink in, but then you realized there was only one way it made sense.<br/>
<br/>
The person you saw running through Suffolk Wilderness wasn't Marc Garner. And when he insisted he wasn't Braydon or Christian, that left only one possibility: He was a golem done up to look like mark. <br/>
<br/>
Sending a fake Marc out in public where you'd expect Marc himself to be? That's a very dangerous thing to do. There's only one way to get away with it: By rigging up Marc's mask with golem paste and putting it on the real guy.<br/>
<br/>
That was the kind of "crazy" and "unethical" thing that Christian hadn't wanted to do. That was the kind of thing he worried about, and wanted to keep secret from Braydon.<br/>
<br/>
But that was before he decided that Braydon was very cool and that anything Braydon wanted to do was okay with him.<br/>
<br/>
So you made Caleb take you up to Christian's so you could talk to him. When he claimed not to know what you were talking about, you wrestled him onto the bed and ripped a mask off his face.<br/>
<br/>
A mask with golem paste inside it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So is there an innocent explanation? Did Christian accidentally get some of Braydon's golem paste inside his mask, and accidentally trap himself by putting on the mask? Or is there some aspect of the spell that you don't understand? Did Christian trap himself under his own mask -- something that isn't supposed to happen?<br/>
<br/>
You wrestle with these questions for what seems like hours. But it's actually less than ten minutes before you reach a tentative decision, for Christian has not awoken before you carefully put his mask back onto him.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes pop open, and he scrambles away from you. "The fuck is your problem, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. I just have to talk to Braydon." You take out your cell.<br/>
<br/>
"Not sure he's gonna want to talk to you, not if you're acting like this!"<br/>
<br/>
You ignore him as you punch Braydon's number and put your phone to your ear. The phone rings a very long time. "Christ, man," he says when he picks up. "Why can't you text, like a normal person?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because this is important. It's about Christian."<br/>
<br/>
His drawl sharpens. "What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me."<br/>
<br/>
Christian puts up his hand. "Tell me too. If something's going on with -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. Not you," you tell Braydon. "I was talking to Christian. Or maybe <i>you</i> should talk to Christian, tell him to shut up, since he has to do whatever you say. Same as Marc Garner does. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a frozen silence on the other end. Then Braydon sighs heavily. "I'm with Gillian, man," he whines. "But okay, if it's that important." Inarticulate murmurs filter through the earpiece. "Where do you want to meet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Neutral ground. Westside student parking lot."<br/>
<br/>
"That's on the other side of the city!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's on the other side of where I am too, man." You can barely suppress your fearful anger. "But we have to talk, and I want it to be -- "<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing to worry about, Will," he sighs. "We're on the same side, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You suck in a deep, painful breath. "Yeah. But just humor me." You look at Christian after hanging up. "Are you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs elaborately under a cocked eyebrow. "I don't know. I thought I was, but -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You don't remember doing anything with your mask? Anything special with that new paste you made up? You know, that spell we were talking about was really crazy and dangerous?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks hurt. "Yeah, well, it turned out not to be so dangerous. Braydon explained that -- "<br/>
<br/>
"He explained what?" you ask when Christian falls into a puzzled silence.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't remember what he said exactly, but it's all okay." He glances around the room like he's bored.<br/>
<br/>
You need a ride out to Westside, so you get Christian to take you. On the way, you question him a further, and learn that this "explanation" occurred on Friday afternoon. Braydon had come up to see him at his house, to return his mask to him. Braydon had surprised him in his bedroom, and shoved the mask onto his face before he was ready to retrieve the memories from it. And after that Braydon had explained how everything was okay and that he and Christian --- and you -- were all best friends. Christian has not been inside a mask since.<br/>
<br/>
In other words, Braydon was already armed with some of that golem-making paste on Friday afternoon when he met you at the school to change back. <br/>
<br/>
He was already primed to use it even before you had even told him about it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Wow, you sure managed to figure it out quick," Braydon says. His tone is affable, and he even sounds impressed by the deductions you laid out to him. "Is that you, or are you still wearing Justin's mind-strip? Maybe I should get a copy of whoever's doing that thinking, since they're so -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell me why you did it!" You grab Braydon by his skinny shoulders and shake him. You're standing in the middle of the empty Westside parking lot, under an empty sky. So there is nothing furtive about this conversation, and there's no reason to be furtive. And the insanity of the topic seems to require it be shouted out to the universe.<br/>
<br/>
"Because he was going to get to us first," Braydon says calmly. "At least, that's what I was worried about." He cocks his head. "Didn't you say that Christian was really worried about me?"<br/>
<br/>
"With good reason!"<br/>
<br/>
He winces. "Oh, come on, Will, don't say that. I know everyone else says it, but I thought you and I -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright! Jesus!" You drop to your haunches and put your face to your knees. You don't want to hyperventilate from overexcitement. You need to remain calm, because you want to stay on Braydon's good side.<br/>
<br/>
When you look back up at him, he's peering down at you curiously. "So, after you gave me Christian's mask Wednesday morning, you just went up to his house on a whim -- "<br/>
<br/>
"No, not on a whim, exactly. I just wanted to see what he was up to. You told me he'd been lying to us, so naturally I wanted to snoop. Safest thing to do."<br/>
<br/>
"So you broke in and you read through the grimoire and you saw what the latest spell could do, and then you what? Panicked?"<br/>
<br/>
His cheek twitches. "I don't like to think of myself as 'panicking'. But yeah, I got kind of worried. So I ran around to the stores and got the ingredients and used the book and the ingredients and my own hair to make up some of that paste. Yesterday, after you left, I got it into Christian's mask, and you figured out the rest."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Were you playing Christian some of the time since then? How'd you get into his personality so fast?"<br/>
<br/>
"By spending the night as him. I had his stuff when I woke up the next morning."<br/>
<br/>
That only leaves the matter of Marc to clear up. "And you used the same paste on Garner?"<br/>
<br/>
At least now he has the grace to look embarrassed. "Yeah. I managed to corner him outside the Warehouse. I had his mask with me, all rigged up, and I smashed it onto his face. Then I got him alone and switched out with him long enough to get you back to the basement. Oh, speaking of which, did you ever switch out with your golem? How did you get up to Christian's to figure all this out?"<br/>
<br/>
So you explain about how you're dodging chores, and how you and Caleb ran into Garner out in the Suffolk Wilderness. Braydon lets out a low whistle when you're done. "You had some luck with you figuring this stuff out." You roll your eyes. <br/>
<br/>
But now comes the part you've dreaded tackling. "So how come you were keeping all this secret from me? About what you did to Christian?"<br/>
<br/>
Braydon kicks at the ground and dodges your gaze. "Same reason I haven't told Gillian. It's a pretty radical thing, I didn't know how you'd take it. I figured that what you didn't know wouldn't hurt you. I also figured that if I told you a lot later, you'd see that, you know -- " He swallows a couple of times and shoves his hands into his pockets. "There's nothing to be paranoid about, not with me."<br/>
<br/>
The wind blows across the parking lot, and the traffic sounds louder in the awkward silence that ensues.<br/>
<br/>
Then Braydon perks up. "Anyway, it's great to have it all out in the open now." His eyes are bright and calm -- no bad conscience for him! "You know, we can do some safe and super larping now. I only got a taste of it with Marc last night. I was going to replace him tomorrow night. You know, sleep, go in as him on Monday with all his memories and personality. You should totally do the same thing!"<br/>
<br/>
You're too shocked to interrupt as he prattles off some possibilities to you -- some using masks his friends already made, some involving people you'd still have to get masks of.<br/>
<br/>
When he pauses, and nudges you for a response, you turn away for a long think, at the end of which you've decided ...<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212231111121311133111122321
author_id: seuzz
title: Life as a Larp
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>How the fuck does Braydon manage to be so persuasive? How does he manage to make something so monstrous -- taking over the body and mind and life of someone else, even if only temporarily -- sound so reasonable? How is it that he can even talk you into making a mask of someone you haven't even made a mask of yet, and doing it to them?<br/>
<br/>
In the back of your mind you probably understand the reason: It's because you've already done something even worse to David Kirkham and Gary Chen. What he's talking about isn't even as bad as that.<br/>
<br/>
Also, it's just such a beguiling idea, especially after some of the names he mentions get you thinking about Bethany, and how you could use this trick to learn more about her, or to get close to her in other ways. "You know, if I'm going to be Marc on Monday," Braydon says with a sly laugh, "maybe you could be one of his sisters. Eva? Jessica?" He nudges you when you only stare back slack-jawed at him. "That'd be kind of kinky."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would I want to -- ? I mean -- " Your face catches fire, and the light of your blush seems to reflect off Braydon's eyes as a gleam of amusement. "Alright, I'd love to have a pair of breasts to play with," you blurt out. "Wouldn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Braydon gapes, then looses a short howl of laughter. You've never seen him so amused. "Wow, it didn't take much to pull <i>that</i> confession out of you," he gasps when he's recovered himself. He wipes his eyes. "Okay. I guess, now that you mention it, it would be. But I'd rather, you know -- " He shrugs, and his grin fades slowly until it's turned into a thoughtful frown. "Besides, it might be kind of -- I dunno. Weird?" His glance turns worried. "I've got a girlfriend and larping as a girl would -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Give you an idea of what it's like to be one?"<br/>
<br/>
He winces hard. "Touche. But what I was thinking was, it might be weird if I'm with her and we're, uh, making out, and I start thinking what it's like to be, you know, on her side of things. Besides -- " He whitens a little. "If you're larping as a girl, you want to be a good-looking one, right, and then either you've got a boyfriend or you're going to have guys who are trying to get into your, uh -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Are you trying to talk me out of it, man? Because you don't have to try very hard."<br/>
<br/>
Braydon snickers. "Okay, I'm not trying to talk you either way. And I'm not gonna think you're funny or anything if you want to -- I mean, I think it's cool whatever your thing is." He sucks on his upper lip thoughtfully. "You know, I wish we knew someone who was for sure gay. Other than Charles." He shudders a little. "That would be an interesting thing to roleplay."<br/>
<br/>
You weren't expecting anything like that from him. "Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." His face darkens a little. "You think <i>that's</i> funny?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you hastily say. "Just as long as you don't think it's funny if I -- What I was talking about with -- " You've totally flustered yourself. "Look, there's nothing gay about either -- Not that I think there's anything funny about being <i>gay,</i> but -- "<br/>
<br/>
Braydon whaps you in the shoulder. "So we can do whatever, as long as it's fun, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You whap him back by way of agreement. "But I don't want to be Eva or Jessica, not if you're gonna be Marc. I don't want you looking at me like -- I mean, incest isn't funny, in any sense of -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, okay." Braydon waves his hand. "So if you're gonna larp as a girl -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say I was!"<br/>
<br/>
"I said 'if'! Jesus, Will, chill out. I was just going to say that if you're gonna larp as a girl -- which would be a new thing for us." He blinks. "But if you're gonna do that and you don't want me, you know, <i>looking</i> at you that way -- "<br/>
<br/>
Oh Jesus, you can see it now. He's going to look at you that way no matter what, no matter what girl you -- <i>If</i> you're going to larp as a girl. You rub your nose, which has begun to itch badly.<br/>
<br/>
But Braydon is still talking. "But if you're gonna larp as a girl, you probably shouldn't larp as Hannah Westrick. You know, on account of -- " His eyebrows arch with worry.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah, that's the girl I saw Marc with last night. Shit, man, you'd be unfaithful to Gillian with her?"<br/>
<br/>
He punches in the chest. "It's just larping, Will. I'm not worried about it."<br/>
<br/>
But he does look worried. He actually looks more worried by that -- cheating on Gillian -- than by what he did to Kirkham. Or by what he did to Christian.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm not going to worry about it," he repeats. "But if you're gonna larp as a girl, you should do it as someone who can talk to Bethany. Like you did as Christian." He nudges you again. "Talk yourself up."<br/>
<br/>
You gulp.<br/>
<br/>
And that's how he talks you around.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's only mid-day, but you haven't eaten, so Braydon treats you to a burger and fries. You slurp down the greasy food greedily as you talk about who you might larp as in order to get close to Bethany. "We were with these girls last night," you reflect aloud as Braydon listens. "I don't remember their names. Stoner girl and tattoo girl. Stoner girl came on to me, so she'd probably be a bad idea."<br/>
<br/>
"You can't rule anyone out," says Braydon. "Ceres Kesey would probably be a good one, though," he adds. "I know Bethany hangs out with her."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, right."<br/>
<br/>
"And there's Andrea. Varnsworth, I mean," he adds, as though there might be any other "Andrea" to refer to.<br/>
<br/>
You suck hard on your shake. <i>Yeah, you weren't going to mention Andrea.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Something wrong with Andrea?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, nothing wrong with Andrea." You shiver all over, and hardly any of it is due to the chill of the shake. "You know, it's Andrea. She's perfect. All over."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so she'd be perfect for -- "<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Christ.</i> "But I can't get to <i>Andrea!</i> Not to pull off a switch!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's stopping you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I don't know her!"<br/>
<br/>
"You know her through Bethany."<br/>
<br/>
"No I don't! Not officially, anyway. She said as much when I was talking to her as Christian. I said -- Anyway, she said she didn't even know who I was!"<br/>
<br/>
"I bet Bethany's told her about you. Pointed you out."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't crash in on her." That conversation you had with Justin and his friends comes back to you. "No one crashes in on her. Not even Justin. Even he's scared of her."<br/>
<br/>
"I bet Erik Carstairs isn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Carstairs?" You blink, and it takes you a moment to read the meaning behind Braydon's smug smile. "You mean, use a mask of someone to get close to her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Naturally. Someone who knows her, who can crash in on her." Braydon makes a one-handed pair of air quotes around "crash."<br/>
<br/>
"There's no one who -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure there is, Will," Braydon says patiently. "Charles, for one. He's always prattling on about how he's at her place. There's lots of other guys, too, I'm sure."<br/>
<br/>
"Hennepin," you blurt out. "He says he's busted in on her before," you add when Braydon lifts his eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
"There you go. Or hell, I bet Marc can get in to her place, if you're too scared to do it yourself." He sucks on his own shake. "Lotta reasons to keep Andrea in the kind of box Marc is in, when you think about it."<br/>
<br/>
"What reasons?"<br/>
<br/>
Then you crimson when you think of what he obviously means. Your cock, which has been turgid, throbs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Despite the obvious advantages to using Andrea as your "undercover agent," you're still not decided on what to do after you and Braydon part -- he to return to Gillian, and you to the elementary school basement to await the arrival of your doppelganger. He looks dirty and sweaty as he jogs up to the basement door. "Fucker, you sure missed a fun day," he says. "And it's not over yet."<br/>
<br/>
"You said on the phone you got all the chores done."<br/>
<br/>
"I did." He flashes you a snaggle-toothed grin, and you wince. "I'm talking about all the <i>other</i> fun stuff you have to deal with."<br/>
<br/>
You turn cold. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll find out," he says in a sing-song. "I don't even know how to explain it, since <i>I</i> wasn't at the Warehouse last night, and <i>I</i> don't know what happened. You just better hope Mom and Dad don't know where to look online, or else they'll see a certain set of pictures that -- Mmphgh!" he says as you grab his face and haul him downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are very thoughtful as you dress after waking up. The memories you downloaded from your mask are very vivid, but it's not the memories of the chores that are troubling you. It's those photographs.<br/>
<br/>
You recognize only one of them, but from it you can guess who was snapping pictures of you all last night as you made out and danced with Bethany. <br/>
<br/>
It was Jordana. <br/>
<br/>
Onto Snapchat they went, with a lot of snarky commentary. God only knows how Tilley found them, so that he could alert you to them. Scratch that: it was probably Ioeger and/or Lamont who found them and started circulating them to your friends with lots of sniggering comments of their own. You redden as you imagine what they must be saying.<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, the point is that now anyone who cares to know about such things knows that you were in a party mood last night -- beer and weed and a girl -- at the Warehouse.<br/>
<br/>
You're not the least bit worried about your parents finding out. Neither of them have even heard of Snapchat, you're pretty sure. But it's Jordana's commentary that has you riled up. She is obviously not impressed with you.<br/>
<br/>
But she could be. If you fitted her out with a mask.</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122311111213111331111223211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Dive Into the Deep
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Okay, there's nothing that a "new Jordana" could do to repair the damage done by the original, so there's no point in doing a replacement there. But the pictures convince you that Andrea Varnsworth is the place to be if you want to cement things with Bethany. A fight between Andrea and Jordana on the merits of "Will Prescott, potential boyfriend for Bethany Lewis," you're sure, would just be a replay of Godzilla vs. Bambi.<br/>
<br/>
But how to get to her? You lay back on your bed and drill holes in the ceiling as you outline various schemes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The answer comes from an unexpected quarter: Bethany herself. It occurs to you after a bit that you've not talked to her since last night, and that it's probably a good idea to at least text her. So you do.<br/>
<br/>
After the preliminary pleasantries -- <i>hey. wassup? last nite was AMAZING</i> -- you move into the middling pleasantries by asking what she's doing tomorrow. <i>working @ mall,</i> she replies. <i>remember? ;)</i> You bang your forehead with the heel of your hand.<br/>
<br/>
Then she adds: <i>swimming w/andrea in the morning<br/>
<br/>
where u swim?</i> you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<i>school, she's got a key 2 pool.</i><br/>
<br/>
That's convenient, you muse. Then, more seriously, you think that that could be <i>very</i> convenient. <i>just u 2?</i> you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<i>yes. u cant come by. :p<br/>
<br/>
sigh. ok. u 2 do this every sunday?<br/>
<br/>
no, just 2morrow</i><br/>
<br/>
You wonder at that. Maybe Bethany has a special reason to want to talk to Andrea? <i>what time?</i> you ask.<br/>
<br/>
10. why?<br/>
<br/>
You wipe sweaty palms on your shirt, and take the plunge. <i>have brunch w/me instead?</i><br/>
<br/>
There's a very long pause in reply to that, long enough that you can run down to the kitchen to pop a Tums for a stomach that has started to boil. Her reply is waiting when you get back upstairs. <i>ok. where?</i><br/>
<br/>
You tell her to meet you at Panera at ten-thirty, which should give you plenty of time for the scheme you've come up with, and after some parting pleasantries you toss your phone away and thrash a bit on the bed until you've squeezed all the nervous energy out of your system. Then you sweep up some clothes and run downstairs to tell your parents you're going out for a quick jog. <br/>
<br/>
In fact, you run out to the old school, where you recharge your mask with your latest memories and set it on the golem. You give it instructions -- and as it's got a pretty good idea of what you want, it counters with some suggestions of its own -- and send it home. You spend the balance of the evening in the basement, making a new mask and mind-strip by the dim light, before crawling excitedly into the sleeping bag, to toss and twitch until something like an exhausted slumber overtakes you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake the next morning quite early, with just enough time to realize the one flaw in your plan: you have no idea what time it is. Fortunately, your doppelganger must have come to the same realization, because after a couple of hours during which you polish up the new mask and watch the light and wonder if it's anywhere close to ten o'clock yet, you hear an engine outside. A glance out the window reveals your truck, and you run up the stairs with a frantic frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," says the tow-headed kid who looks like you. "Just stopping by long enough to tell you we're heading out in about ten minutes. Unless Dad pops a blood vein first."<br/>
<br/>
"What's he mad about now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me, running out like this." He grins. "Thought you needed a wakeup, so I told him I was running over to the convenience store to get some more milk."<br/>
<br/>
"We're out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I guzzled half the gallon so I'd have an excuse." He hops back into the cab. "Give us about fifteen minutes, then you can pick up the truck." He turns the motor over with a roar, and you duck back down into the basement.<br/>
<br/>
It's nice to think that you have as much presence of mind as your golem showed.<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, after calculating that a quarter hour has passed, and then after allowing yourself a little more time in case you've misjudged it, you sprint a back way to your house, sneaking up on it from behind. The garage door is down, and your truck is in the driveway, but not until you've cautiously felt the front door handle and found it locked do you gasp in relief. <br/>
<br/>
So your doppelganger is at church with your family, which gives you the opening you need. Clutching the new mask and the plastic container of golem goop that you and Braydon made the other day, you hop into your truck and navigate (again, by back ways) to Westside High.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There are a couple of cars in the parking lot when you pull in, which leaves you anxious. It's not quite ten when you park and hunch down behind the wheel, so is one of the cars Andrea's? Is she here with her team? Or do they belong to other people? Will those people interfere? You've got enough time to worry, because it's nearly a quarter pat the hour before another car pulls in, and you recognize the proudly lifted head of Andrea Varnsworth in the driver's side window.<br/>
<br/>
You fidget restlessly as she parks, and organizes her things, and reorganizes and reorganizes them some more before getting out. Even from thirty yards away she looks amazingly sexy with a long, white jacket falling just far enough that the hem catches the middle of her bare, brown thighs. She looks neither right nor left as she strides off on those lovely limbs around the corner of the gym.<br/>
<br/>
As soon as she's disappeared, you leap from your truck, lock the door, and scamper after.<br/>
<br/>
Not until you're almost at the door to the natatorium do you wonder: <i>What if she's locked it behind her?</i> Oh, but she wouldn't, not if she thinks Bethany will be joining her. <i>But Bethany will have called and told her she's meeting with you.</i><br/>
<br/>
With a ghastly grin of anticipation, you grab the handle. <br/>
<br/>
It's unlocked. Swallowing hard, you pull it open.<br/>
<br/>
The smell of water and chlorine hits you in the face, almost making you gag. You're not much of a swimmer, and haven't been much of one since you were ten. Oh, you hang out poolside with people when you have a chance, and you splash around. But authentic, serious swimming, of the kind done indoors? Nope.<br/>
<br/>
It also takes you a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting within. So you're caught gawking stupidly when you finally realize the pillar by the pool is actually Andrea Varnsworth. She's gazing at you with a speculative frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, hey," you squeak, and jump as the slowly closing door bumps you in the ass. "I saw you come in, and, uh, I kind of wanted to talk." Actually, you have something else in mind. But you're too frightened by that daunting stare to just rush her. Besides, she might know judo or tae-kwan-do or something, and flip you into the pool if you tried a violent approach. "Uh, I'm Will Prescott? I don't think you know me."<br/>
<br/>
"I know who you are," Andrea says quietly. She uncinches the belt of her jacket, letting it drape open. Beneath, she is clad in a sheer, black, Lycra one-piece. With casual insolence she lets the jacket fall off her shoulder, and tosses it away.<br/>
<br/>
With immense willpower, you keep your eyes locked onto her face, which is hooded and unreadable. "Well, I wanted to talk to you -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were having brunch with Bethany."<br/>
<br/>
"Something came up." Something has been coming up since Andrea took that jacket off, and you flinch at the unconscious reference. "I mean, I can't meet with her, but she mentioned that you'd be up here, because she was meeting you up here, and I hoped we could talk?"<br/>
<br/>
"I came up here to swim," she says, and turns to the pool.<br/>
<br/>
"Could you at least look at this?" you yammer, and thrust out the mask. She pauses before putting her foot into the water. "It's something I made, uh, for Bethany, and maybe you could at least give me a quick -- " You mouth suddenly fills with saliva, and you swallow. "Look?"<br/>
<br/>
Andrea sighs so softly that maybe you only imagined you heard the sound, and her shoulders sag. "I don't know why you're so nervous," she says as you hurry forward, adjusting the mask so it balances in the palm of your hand. "It's not like you -- "<br/>
<br/>
You punch her in the face with it, like it's a pie and your life is a slapstick silent comedy. Her head jerks back and she topples. Only by grabbing her around the shoulders and falling with her do you keep her from breaking something as she collapses to the cold concrete floor of the natatorium.<br/>
<br/>
And as you adjust her body and lock the door and crouch by the poolside and wait for the mask to finish copying -- and as you paint its inner surface with golem goop after it's come back out of her -- you wonder what the rest of the sentence was going to be.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like you need to impress her"? Or "It's not like you have a chance with her"?<br/>
<br/>
Of course, your preoccupation with that interrupted sentence and your frantic fear of being interrupted, despite the locked door, don't stop you from drinking her in as she lays there. Even unconscious, her face has a severe, queenly aspect, and you smooth out her shoulder-length brown hair to soften its lines. Andrea is far from unlovely in the face, but it's her body that seizes the imagination. She has strong legs, large breasts, and enough hips to have wonderful connecting curves between everything. She brown all over, and unblemished. Only a fear of messing up the copying process keeps you from rubbing your palms on her.<br/>
<br/>
But finally all is done, and with a savagely beating heart you balance the enslaving in your hands.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113321112111112221112122111112111111221121223111112131113311112232112
author_id: seuzz
title: An Asymptotic Approach to Andrea
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You lay the enslaving mask on the girl, and a moment later Andrea Varnsworth is looking up at you with a reproachful expression on her face. Though she is supposed to be a golem now, under your control, you still quail under her stare. "What did you do?" she demands.<br/>
<br/>
"I, uh, played kind of a magic trick on you." Gathering up what little quivering courage you possess, you lean forward to whisper, "You have to do what I say."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes widen just a trace, and there's a flutter at her throat.<br/>
<br/>
Your courage firms. "You have to do what I say, Andrea. You have to obey me."<br/>
<br/>
A sour scowl disfigures her face. "Sure," she says. "If you say so." She scrambles backward.<br/>
<br/>
"Stop," you say, and she freezes. "That's right. Stand up." She follows you up as you stand, and now there's a real look of fear in her eyes. "Bend over and touch your toes. Hold them."<br/>
<br/>
It's the only thing you can think of, but after only a fractional hesitation, Andrea complies. She bends over with knees locked to grasp her toes; tendons quiver in her legs as she holds the pose. With bulging eyes you walk around her, admiring the view. "Okay, you can straighten up," you murmur, and with a cluck of disapproval Andrea raises up again. "Is that all," she asks.<br/>
<br/>
For now it has to be -- the impersonation has to wait. "What are your plans for the day?"<br/>
<br/>
"Swim. Go home." She shrugs. "Wait for people to show up at my place, the way they always do."<br/>
<br/>
That'll work, but you give her one additional errand, and a time to run it. Then you watch with longing as she slides smoothly into the water and strokes her way to the deep end. For just a moment she stares back at you from the far end, then dives deep under the surface.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next three hours are an excruciating mix of boredom and anticipation. You return to the basement to await the return of your doppelganger from church, and with nothing else to do you lay on your back on the conference table and let your cock alternately bulge and droop as you try to anticipate what it will be like to wrap yourself in Andrea's flesh and mind and life.<br/>
<br/>
You know hardly anything about her, save that she's the captain of the swim team and has a fearful, almost mystical reputation. She swims for sport, not pleasure, so is never to be found hanging out at pool parties. She doesn't have a boyfriend and has never been known to date. You have heard guys -- like Hennepin -- mention having been out to her house for parties, but have never heard what those parties are like or what she does at them. She doesn't hang out with any known group or gang at school.<br/>
<br/>
Mostly she floats through the halls and across the campus, inviting long, rapturous stares due to her short-shorts or skinny jeans, and the t-shirts that almost always show just a hint of midriff. Her smiles are never more than faint and quizzical things.<br/>
<br/>
So what will it be like to have that flesh under your palms, to rub and stroke? What will it be like to have her mind? Is she contemptuous and bored with her peers and admirers? Is she just shy? You hope there's nothing tragic in her life to explain her spooky aloofness.<br/>
<br/>
The time dribbles by, and you're constantly up to look through windows and back down again to sit or roll around restlessly on the broken furniture. You explore a bit in the back of the basement, and shift some of the desks and bookcases around to no good effect. You'd do something with the magic supplies, but you don't think your powers of concentration are in good enough shape.<br/>
<br/>
But finally you do hear a noise at the door, and scramble up as it opens. The gawky frame of Will Prescott stands in the doorway. "Dude, did you fuck things up?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart thumps once. "What? Why do you say that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you're a fuck up, and you're still here instead of getting it on with Andrea." He jams his hands into his pockets and comes hopping down the stairs with a leer.<br/>
<br/>
"You know the plan. She's not supposed to be here until one-thirty."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs, then grins again. "So you got it done? At the school? She was there?" His grin widens as you nod. "How was she? You get into her swimsuit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not yet, I had to get back here."<br/>
<br/>
He groans. "Aren't you going to give me <i>anything</i> to fantasize about?"<br/>
<br/>
Your double sure is disgusting, but you're the original so you can out-disgust him. "How about this?" you tell him as you gesture him to undress. "When you wake up, you're going to have Andrea Varnsworth inside you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's another twenty minutes before she shows up, but the time passes more quickly because after deactivating the golem and hiding it in the back again, you've got your cell to play with. You send a few short texts to Caleb and to Keith about those pics that Jordana posted -- and telling them that you're ignoring them; Jordana's just a bitch -- and review the texts your doppelganger exchanged with Bethany. She certainly sounds understanding over the cancellation of brunch, and it sounds like she accepts the excuse, that your parents decided at the last minute to go to church. But you'll have an opportunity later to find out if she really does accept it.<br/>
<br/>
Andrea's arrival is signaled by a knock at the door, and with a choked "It's open!" you bid her come in. She wrinkles her nose as she looks down at the scene from the top of the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
The basement may be disgusting, but she's a knockout: skinny jeans and a gray hoodie whose hem, in true Andrea style, rides about an inch above the top of her pants. Bare ankles show between her cuffs and the soft moccasins on her feet. "So I almost didn't find this place," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"But you did. Come on down and get undressed." You hiccup.<br/>
<br/>
She's very businesslike as she peels off her garments. The hoodie comes off to reveal a sports top, and the jeans come off to disclose some skimpy panties. These come off too, along with the moccasins, and Andrea Varnsworth in all her glory shows herself to you.<br/>
<br/>
She's like you've always imagined her: smooth, unblemished, poised and balanced. Muscles show in her stomach, and her navel is a shallow oval scoop, like a footprint on a sandy beach. Her breasts are large and pointed, like artillery shells, with rosy tips. Her bush is demure, and you idly wonder if she shapes and bobs it.<br/>
<br/>
Much as you'd love to spend the afternoon drinking her in, you've got a better way to enjoy her, and you have her lie back on the conference table where you have done most of your work. Her expression is pinched and worried as you lay your palm across her brow and rip the mask off.<br/>
<br/>
It leaves a duplicate of Andrea behind -- the real girl, not the image you've been glorying in. But the image will be enough, and you quickly cover her up again with the mask of Will Prescott. You keep your eyes north of her neck as you set it on her, so that the only shock is only of seeing her face replaced with yours. Your double snaps his eyes open, and sits up on his elbow. "So I'm back?" he says. "And I've got -- ?" He grabs his cock.<br/>
<br/>
You slap him. "Yeah, and don't do that. And don't be dumb when you see Bethany up at the mall."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't ask the impossible," he chortles. "Do I at least get to stay and watch you -- "<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"When do I get to come over and -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't. At least not right away. Not until you can behave."<br/>
<br/>
"So never, in other words." He grins.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I'm beginning to understand why Dad gets cheesed off every time he looks in my direction."<br/>
<br/>
So you get your double -- now hiding the real Andrea Varnsworth -- dressed and packed off before turning to the completion of the substitution. As you pick up Andrea's mask and stretch out on the table, you wryly reflect that Braydon probably didn't have nearly as much fun anticipating the change when he substituted himself for Marc Garner. For a moment, you hold the mask over your face, and your arms tremble as you slowly read Andrea's name aloud. Then you close your eyes and lower it to your face.<br/>
<br/>
It's like a heavy weight that sinks into your head and fills your mind and body with molten gold ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're feeling fuzzy and unfocused when you blink your eyes open. It's like waking from a heavy sleep, and you want nothing more than to close your eyes and pulls the covers over your head and regroup until the alarm goes off again. But there are no covers and it's cold and --<br/>
<br/>
And with a gasp you raise up onto your elbows. Your breasts wobble and fall away from each other. <i>Holy -- !</i><br/>
<br/>
You grab one breast and shift it back into position. It is warm, but the tip has hardened in the cold, and it hardens more as you rub a fingertip over it. And down between your legs -- <br/>
<br/>
You raise up to peer at the bush. <i>Your</i> bush. Andrea Varnsworth's bush, but you're Andrea Varnsworth.<br/>
<br/>
That's right. You close your eyes and pull in a deep, slow breath. <i>I'm Andrea Varnsworth.</i><br/>
<br/>
You can picture your dumpy house and your harried mother and your scuzzy friends. Your wonderfully homey dumpy house and your smart and fun-loving but harried single mother and your wild, sexy, scuzzy friends.<br/>
<br/>
Your kingdom.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133211121111122211121221111121111112211212231111121311133111122321121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Week in Flashback
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You lie back on the table and stare at the dark ceiling of the school basement. You're not looking at it, though. You're looking at the life you have hijacked.<br/>
<br/>
It comes to you in discrete flashes, like photographs in a folder. Isolated impressions and memories that form a whole.<br/>
<br/>
The tiny bedroom with the old twin-sized bed with the busted frame, just off the bare living room with its futon and the small kitchen looking out into the organic garden. <br/>
<br/>
The feel of the wet earth between your toes as you weed.<br/>
<br/>
The determined grin on your mother's face as she straightens her starched white shirt before going in to work at Saratoga Falls' toniest restaurant, and the cracked makeup and bone-weary slouch when she comes home fourteen hours later. <br/>
<br/>
The bohemian friends who hang out in the living room, texting and gossiping and bitching and listening to music and doing homework while you watch over them with silent amusement.<br/>
<br/>
Westside High, where you feel the gaze of all the male students crawling up and down and over you like a carpet of slugs. The sly murmurs from the boys sitting behind you in class. The bolder come-ons from those cocky enough to make a direct approach.<br/>
<br/>
The cool feeling of the water as you slice through it. It was a nice swim this morning, one thankfully not ruined by --<br/>
<br/>
You frown. You can't really tell what Andrea thought when you accosted her, and you can barely recognize the wariness that she felt at your appearance. As for Bethany --<br/>
<br/>
The impressions there don't form a cohesive whole. Andrea spends quite a bit of time with Bethany, and when you smile to think of her you don't think it's entirely your own smile. A lot of it is Andrea's own fondness for the girl. She's small and cute and elfin, and a lot less maintenance than Jelena or Sienna or the more ruffianly girls that come over to Andrea's to drink and smoke and curse. (Andrea doesn't do any of those things.) But what has Andrea had to say about you and your interest in Bethany?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Do you know Will Prescott?" Bethany asked last Monday at lunch.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you said.<br/>
<br/>
"Skinny guy, blonde, wears a white ball cap?"<br/>
<br/>
You took another bite from the pear. "You're only describing half the guys in school, Beth. Is he a freshman?"<br/>
<br/>
She giggled. "No. Anyway, he stopped by my work yesterday. He hung out with me. He's funny."<br/>
<br/>
"Funny ha-ha, or funny weird?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe a little of both." She shrugged. "Anyway, if I see him, I'll point him out to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you trying to set me up with him?"<br/>
<br/>
She punched you in the knee.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"That was Will," Bethany tittered as the gawky kid in the white ball cap tottered away on Tuesday.<br/>
<br/>
"So I deduced." You kept your eyes closed and face turned up to the sun.<br/>
<br/>
"God, I didn't know what to say to him."<br/>
<br/>
"Then it's good you didn't say anything. He didn't have anything to say to you, and look how embarrassing it was when he opened his mouth anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a bitch." She scrambled to her feet. "I have to go some place to think."<br/>
<br/>
"He's not going to come back," you said. "At least, I'll be impressed if he does," you added as Bethany hurried away.<br/>
<br/>
But then he did come back. And it turned out that you weren't impressed, but you were amused, and you had some fun with him when he did.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"Just turn around," you told Bethany at lunch on Wednesday as she glanced back over her shoulder for the tenth time. "That way you'll see him when he comes."<br/>
<br/>
"See who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"He's not my boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what are you worried about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not worried." But she scooted up next to you and put her back to the wall.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you worried that he's coming, or that he isn't?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not worried!"<br/>
<br/>
You stroked the side of her head, once. "Then calm down." A blonde head bobbed into sight. "Because here he comes."<br/>
<br/>
Bethany jumped, then sagged. "That's not him. That's Christian."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, they all look alike to me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"I don't think he's coming today," you said at lunch on Thursday as you gathered up your stuff.<br/>
<br/>
"Stupid Christian," Bethany muttered.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I think it's me. I think I scared him off the other day."<br/>
<br/>
"Why, what did you do?" Her tone is sharp.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I just teased him a little. But guys like that can't take teasing."<br/>
<br/>
"Guys like what, Andrea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Forget I said anything."<br/>
<br/>
"No. Guys like what, Andrea?" Her eyes suddenly looked bruised.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mean it the way you think, Beth. I like him. He's different from the usual run I've got crawling all over my house."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't care if you like him or not."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why are you acting like you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you always acting like you know what's best for people?"<br/>
<br/>
That hurt, a little. "I just have my opinions. You can take them or leave them. Same as I can take it or leave it whether you take it or leave it. But if it's Christian's fault he didn't show up today -- " You frowned as a skinny figure came sprinting over. For a moment you thought it might be Bethany's boyfriend, but he flashed by without stopping, probably because there was a girl chasing him hard. They disappeared around the corner of the gym. "Yeah," you continued, "if it's Christian's fault he didn't show up, I'll hold him down while you kick him in the balls."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't need your help, Andrea."<br/>
<br/>
"Great. Then I'm just not going to get in your way no matter what happens."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So there's not much to go on, not from what Andrea had to say to Bethany about you, and you can't lay hands on any other memories where she had anything to say about you, to Bethany or to anyone else.<br/>
<br/>
You grope your breasts lazily and sigh: Andrea Varnsworth barely has an opinion of you.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you can go about changing that now. You sit up, swing your legs off the table, and snatch up your panties.<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't take long to dress. Panties. Sports top, which to you take some time fitting comfortably into. Jeans, which are hard to pull on and which feel amazing once you're squeezed into them. The moccasins, which are soft and caressing. Then the hoodie, which you pluck at and resettle once you've got it zipped up to the top of your breastbone. Then you go over to the floor-length mirror to give yourself a good look.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That's me. Andrea Varnsworth.</i> The gleam in your eye seems alien, both to your own memories of Andrea and to her own, so you suppress it, replacing it with the watchful, skeptical, hooded expression that looks more natural on her face.<br/>
<br/>
<i>On your face.</i> You gently bite your lower lip and push that gleam back down when it briefly surfaces. Then with a gentle, reproachful sigh you turn to the stairs. After closing the padlock on the basement door, you slide into your sedan and pick up the phone.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Damn.</i> Five texts from Charles while you were in the basement. He says he's waiting in front of your house and where the hell are you? <i>none of yr business,</i> you text back, and toss the phone into the passenger seat with a snort. Maybe he'll take the hint and go home.<br/>
<br/>
Because you're not going to meet him at your place. You're going up to the mall. The dashboard clock reads 1:56 as you turn the motor over. Assuming you get to the mall by 2:20, that'll give you forty minutes alone with Bethany before "Will Prescott" is scheduled to show up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A small gang of girls is coming out just as you're walking up to the side entrance. You recognize most of them, and can even put names to a few, and they smile brightly, even eagerly as they stand aside for you. But you only offer a fleeting smile of your own before passing inside. Before the door closes behind, you hear some soft words that sound like a snarl. It occurs to you that, although you and Andrea both know the effect she has on boys, neither of you really know what the girls of the school think of her. The slow pulse in your throat tells you that Andrea herself doesn't care in the least what they think.<br/>
<br/>
The inside of the mall is dark after the bright afternoon sun, and you quickly pull off your sunglasses. And only now, as you seek out the Sunglasses Shack, do you wonder: <i>What the hell am I going to say to Bethany when I see her?</i> Because Andrea does not go looking for friends to hang out with. She always lets them come to her.<br/>
<br/>
So you're momentarily tongue-tied when Bethany does a double take at you from inside her kiosk. "Hey, are you up here shopping?" she asks as you approach.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what I'm doing," you softly confess, and you don't ask permission before joining her behind the counter. Then inspiration comes. "No, that's not true. I'm avoiding Charles. He's at my place." You take out your phone and frown at the screen. "Now he's yelling at me because I won't tell him where I am."<br/>
<br/>
Bethany giggles. "It's almost like he's in love with you."<br/>
<br/>
A feeling of tenderness swells within you as she laughs. You smile back, drinking in her buttery hair, her dimples, her twinkling eyes and her chipmunk mouth.  She reminds you of --<br/>
<br/>
It's like a sudden dagger to the heart.<br/>
<br/>
She reminds you of Chelsea Cooper, who you -- Andrea -- kissed early in your high school career. Except that Bethany's not psychotic.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Christ,</i> you gasp down underneath Andrea's personality. <i>Is Andrea Varnsworth also in love with Bethany Lewis?</i><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11332111211111222111212211111211111122112122311111213111331111223211211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Campaign on Two Fronts
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Whatever is going on with Andrea and her feelings for Bethany -- and frankly, you wonder if you're just confusing Andrea's feelings and yours -- there's nothing you can do about it or should do about it. After all, you don't want Bethany dating Andrea, you want her dating <i>you.</i><br/>
<br/>
Speaking of which -- <br/>
<br/>
"So what did you do last night?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"Went to the Warehouse." Your heart skips before Bethany instantly adds. "I went with Will. We had dinner then coffee first."<br/>
<br/>
She looks and sounds a little awkward as she says it. You reach for her --<br/>
<br/>
And now you discover a unexpected flaw in your plan to use Andrea to lobby on your behalf. <br/>
<br/>
Andrea Varnsworth has absolutely no idea how to talk in a friendly and encouraging way about things like boyfriends. As you reach for the right words, you discover that she has no more idea of what to say than you do.<br/>
<br/>
At least, it feels like her mental cupboard is bare. Could it just be you getting in the way again?<br/>
<br/>
You've got to say and do something, though, so you awkwardly rub Bethany's spine between her shoulder blades. "That sounds like fun. Was it just you two?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jordana was with us too." The tautness in Bethany's face suggests that she's seen those snarky pictures and comments. "Dorothy." She rolls her eyes. "She flirted hard with Will."<br/>
<br/>
Your phone buzzes again, and you're strongly tempted to take it out as a welcome distraction, but you don't. "Are you going to see him again? Will, I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I mean, I'll see him Monday."<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing says you have to wait for him to come find you."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd rather he did."<br/>
<br/>
Now you see an opening. "Come on, Beth. He came up here last Sunday, and he came to find you at lunch a couple of times. He asked you out last night. How many more times does he have to come find you before you get the message that he's interested in you?"<br/>
<br/>
Bethany twists about. "I want him to ask me out or something before I start acting like I'm his girlfriend or like that. You know? Like, what if I scare him off?" Her expressions scrunches up. She'd look adorable except that she looks pained. "Remember Christine, and how she got so clingy with Austin right away?"<br/>
<br/>
She's talking about another swimmer, Christine Coolidge, and her aborted romance with the wrestler Austin Mull. He asked her on one date; after that she thought they were going together and was like wet seaweed all over him, and a bunch of her friends had to talk her off the roof when Austin scraped her off and ran hard the other way.<br/>
<br/>
"So what's he supposed to do, your guy? Is he supposed to ask you to -- What? Go steady?"<br/>
<br/>
She blushes deeply. "No."<br/>
<br/>
"Wouldn't that freak out, if he did that after one date?" you challenge. She doesn't answer. You get an idea. "How about this? Each time he takes you out, or he comes by to see you outside of school, you do the same with him. Go find him, or ask him to hang out."<br/>
<br/>
"Can we hang out at your place?" she retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't get carried away," you reply before you can stop yourself. "If that's too much," you continue as she snickers, "how about you ask him to hang out after he's asked you, like, two times in a row. Make it a rule," you explain. "That way you don't have to think about it. God," you sigh. "It makes me bone tired the way some girls get all psychotic trying to figure out what to do with a guy." You brush a stray lock back from Bethany's forehead. "Don't you start stepping on my nerves, Beth. I hang out with you because you're normal."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," she says. "I think."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You let the subject change to other stuff -- movies, internet stuff, light gossip about friends. Andrea's nerves are such that you think you're able to play it cool, but you're eagerly anticipating three o'clock, when your doppelganger is scheduled to drop by. Fortunately, he's a few minutes later rather than a few minutes late.<br/>
<br/>
You catch sight of him approaching before Bethany does. "Hey, is that him coming this way? Whatsisname?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" She looks around, and sucks in a sharp breath when she sees the fake you. "Oh my God, it is!"<br/>
<br/>
"I almost bet you he'd show up here today. Well, I'll get out of your way." <br/>
<br/>
But Bethany grabs you. "Don't go."<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you want me here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't! I mean -- If he sees you running away he'll think you don't like him!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why does he care what I think of him? You'll do fine alone with him, Beth." You squeeze her hand under the counter. "You were alone with him all night last night."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I was in a crowed of about three hundred people." Her grin turns glassy, and she waves at your rapidly approaching double. "At least stay to say 'Hi'."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright. What's his name again?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's Will. Honestly, what's wrong with you that -- ? Hey Will," she calls out.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey." Will Prescott jerks his chin once at her, and once at you. You return it with a chin chuck of your own, and look him up and down.<br/>
<br/>
He's a scarecrow. From his skinny feet and legs up to his neck he is gawky and seemingly bundled together out of sticks and twine. A thatch of badly-kempt, straw-colored hair sticks out from under a dirty white ball cap, and long whiskers hang on his chin and upper cheeks. His dark eyes seem screwed up in a permanent, furtive wince. Only the snaggle-toothed grin expresses any confidence or cheer.<br/>
<br/>
"So I had a lot of fun Friday night," he says. "Thanks for inviting me out."<br/>
<br/>
"I think you invited me out," Bethany says.<br/>
<br/>
"Warehouse was your idea." He puts his hands on the counter of the kiosk and does a couple of half-assed dips. "Do you go out there every week?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to get wasted every weekend, Will," Bethany says.<br/>
<br/>
"No, but maybe we could go next weekend and actually listen to the music. The stuff Friday was too loud to hear."<br/>
<br/>
You start to face palm, but manage to turn the gesture into a nose rub. Bethany catches your movement, and her face tightens. You dip your hand into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out your phone as though it's suddenly buzzed. "Dammit," you softly mutter. "I have to go. It's Charles. He's threatening to heave a brick through our front window and let himself into the house that way."<br/>
<br/>
"Charles?" says your double. "Is that your brother?"<br/>
<br/>
"Charles Hartlein. I'll see you later," you tell Bethany, and rub her arm. "You too, uh -- " You just nod at him, and turn away.<br/>
<br/>
Christ, why does it seem so unnatural for Andrea to remember or use your name?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Charles -- that's Charles Hartlein, president of the drama club, and melodramatic/sarcastic asshole -- is parked out front when you pull up, sitting on the hood of his car and playing on his cell phone. He's sucking on a lollipop and doesn't even acknowledge you as get out.<br/>
<br/>
Fine. You can ignore him too.<br/>
<br/>
It's no surprise to find him here. He's always hanging out with Andrea, it seems -- stopping by her locker, intercepting her on the way to class with the latest gossip, stopping by her house and lounging on her futon for hours at a time. He even calls up people and invites them over without asking her permission first.<br/>
<br/>
And she totally puts up with it. You have a feeling his presence is going to test your ability to larp as Andrea.<br/>
<br/>
The first thing you do after you're inside Andrea's house? You go into the bedroom, peel the moccasins off your feet and the jeans off your legs, and change into a khaki shorts that have been hacked back to make short-shorts. Then, barefoot, you go into the back yard to the garden. From the nearby wooden shed you take a trowel and some well-worn gloves, then kneel at the front row and start to methodically move through the garden, weeding as you go.<br/>
<br/>
This is not something you would ever do yourself. You can hardly believe that you're doing it even as part of larping. Your mother once tried to grow a vegetable patch, and put you and your brother to work weeding it, and you whined so much that she gave up on using your labor, and then gave up on it herself.<br/>
<br/>
But it's what Andrea would do. Besides, it gives you an excuse to feel the soft earth between your lovely toes, and to brush your lovely bare legs with the rough gloves. It's also another way of avoiding Charles.<br/>
<br/>
Yet as you work -- digging up small weeds, pulling out the larger ones, and trimming some of the plants as you go -- you fall into Andrea's rhythms, and feel the pleasure of turning off your mind by concentrating on something simple and mundane. Andrea does not daydream or fantasize, you realize as you work. She concentrates on each task that's in front of her. It's soothing to forget everything else, she finds, while forgetting everything else.<br/>
<br/>
So up one row and down another you go. It's long and tedious -- but pleasurable -- work. When you're done, you go back through the rows where the plants are rapidly maturing, and pick off a few for a dinner you'll improvise: some snap beans, some lima beans, a couple of gourds of squash, two tomatoes, and a bunch of turnip greens. Food that would revolt you, but that delights Andrea.<br/>
<br/>
You don't emerge from this Andrea-like trance until you stand up, when your own consciousness seems to bob to the surface. <i>Jesus, it would sure be easy to stay like this,</i> you marvel to yourself. You repeat the thought when your hand brushes the side of your breast.<br/>
<br/>
You could -- and probably should -- return to your own life before nightfall. You weren't planning to be Andrea for very long. But you spent a couple of days as Braydon, and that didn't do you any harm.</span></div></div>


