# chapters

path: 111211132112223121
author_id: seuzz
title: Role Reversals
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your hands and feet are numb as you pull into a parking space at the far end of the Westside student parking lot the next morning. The numbness has nothing to do with the morning chill -- it's not particularly cold -- and has everything to do with the person you'll be meeting in a few minutes. The call came while you were still on Porter. "I just parked," he said. "Where the fuck are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Still on the other side of the river."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus. Just get out here. I got nothing to do but jack off until you show."<br/>
<br/>
As you dismount from your truck you see him approaching: a guy who looks just like Caleb Johansson. The face and figure are the same, and he's wearing the usual dopey clothes: button-down shirt tucked inside Levis. But there's an uncharacteristic swagger in his gait, and his eyes are hard, and they prowl over the lot, as though searching out trouble. "There you are," he says. "How do I look?"<br/>
<br/>
"Normal."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck. I was afraid of that." He pulls at the shirt. "I looked in the mirror while shaving, and it was all I could do to keep from drowning myself in the toilet." He does a little double-take, and cocks his head as he studies you. His hand darts out to grab your chin, and you jerk away. "Huh," he says. "You and me'll switch off tonight. You're nothing to brag about, but your face doesn't kill me, and at least you dress better than this." He tugs at his shirt again.<br/>
<br/>
It's a funny compliment to get, as you're wearing your usual combo of cargo shorts and t-shirt -- exactly the kind of ensemble that Eva derided as "dressing like you're still in fifth grade."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," you grumble. "I'll take my compliments where I can."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's get to first period. I don't want to run into Gordon Black." He smirks briefly before his face falls. "Shit. Does Johansson know how to play basketball?"<br/>
<br/>
"He knows the rules."<br/>
<br/>
"But how is he on the court?"<br/>
<br/>
You try to come up with a diplomatic euphemism, and fail. "He can't dribble the ball without hitting his feet. Usually both of them at the same time."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck. Don't these masks copy muscle memory?"<br/>
<br/>
"They don't copy memories at all. Regular memory, anyway. For muscle memory, I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
He's lost a lot of the color in his face.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mind the rest of it," he mutters. "But if he's bricking it on the court -- " A grim and ghastly expression settles on his face as he stares at the gym.<br/>
<br/>
"Then why did you let him take over for you?"<br/>
<br/>
That was a question you had dared only once to put to Gordon at the library last night as you went over Caleb's life situation, and he hadn't answered. Instead, he'd just pressed you tell him everything you could about the life and habits of Caleb Johansson: Where does he live? Who with? What's his schedule? Who are his friends? What does he do in his spare time? With the help of photos on your phone you were able to pair names and faces so that he could navigate Caleb's social life. He had worked hard -- surprisingly so -- to master what you told him.<br/>
<br/>
He shows it now, by nodding his head at the approaching figure instead of answering your question. "What's Keith Tilley coming this way for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably because he saw us. We're his best friends, remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but it looks more like he's running away from something." Yeah, Keith is looking over his shoulder as he hurries toward you.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he caught sight of Seth Javits."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, right." Caleb -- for that's who he looks like -- snickers in an ugly way. "Yo, Tilley!" he shouts. "Javits pounded your ass today yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," Keith says as he falls into your company with a nervous hop. "See how you like it when -- " He gives Caleb a dirty look. "Yeah, you guys go on in. I'll catch up to you, like, later." He hustles off toward his car.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't like that," you grumble. "You're right, he was running from something. Let's take the long way in, through the athletic fields." You point off to the open grounds behind the school.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a fucking pussy," Caleb says, and sets off toward the gym.<br/>
<br/>
You watch him for a moment before running to catch up. He's walking in a very un-Caleb-like way: head forward, arms out from his sides, a swagger. It's the kind of walk that Caleb might be able to get away with if pushing through the halls of an elementary school. You don't see it working in Westside.<br/>
<br/>
"Sociology Walberg, Calculus Kowalski," he's muttering when you jog up next to him. "Chemistry Gelding -- "<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Reciting my schedule. English Gladstone -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to be able to handle Caleb's AP classes?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says. "You and him were switching out faces when it came to those classes, right? We'll do the same thing starting tomorrow. We'll meet this afternoon, figure out a schedule for swapping around during the day."<br/>
<br/>
You stop, then run to catch up again just as he enters the breezeway between the gym and theater. "We're going to be doing this permanently?"<br/>
<br/>
But he doesn't answer before Gordon Black appears out of nowhere, grabs him by the neck and the belt, and hustles him away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's just like you've seen before, except that Gordon's grasp is a little clumsier, and Caleb is fighting back. But he can't break free.<br/>
<br/>
Normally you'd be running the other way, lest Steve Patterson or Jason Lynch or one of the other psychos that Gordon hangs out with should grab you next. But this time you follow, though at a distance, while dancing anxiously from foot to foot. Gordon and Caleb go around the back of the school, past the baseball diamond and the Agricultural Annex, to the portables -- in other words, where you all wound up yesterday at lunch. The small cluster of students sitting in front scatters when they see Gordon coming.<br/>
<br/>
Behind the portables, cut off from view from the school, Gordon slams Caleb up against a wall. "Take it back," he snarls.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb grins at him. Like everything else today, this isn't a normal Caleb grin either. It's serene and mischievous, and when he laughs there's a snigger in it. "Take what back?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your fucking life. We're gonna go inside one of these portables and take off the masks -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Did you see Chelsea yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck Chelsea! I mean -- " It's very weird to see Gordon turn pale and swallow. "I don't care! I'm not spending the day like this!"<br/>
<br/>
"The day's the best part. What happened at practice?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told Patterson I was sick. I couldn't hold onto the fucking ball when I tried bouncing it."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus." Caleb's smile turns into a sneer, and he looks over Gordon's shoulder at you. "What about you, Prescott, can you handle a ball?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not good enough for the team," you squeak.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon drops Caleb and grabs you. "I don't care. You and me'll switch if this fucker won't take his life back. Where's your mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Back in the school basement."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck! I'm not -- !"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop shitting yourself, Johansson," says Caleb. "Get to the end of the day and it'll all be fine. Here, what's your last class of the day?"<br/>
<br/>
"Physics."<br/>
<br/>
"Not <i>your</i> last class, shithead." Caleb pokes Gordon in the chest. "The last one <i>you're</i> supposed to go to. You're supposed to have my fucking schedule memorized."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon thinks a moment. "History, right?" he says, and he says it the way you'd imagine Gordon saying it: with a furrowed brow, and confused and angry eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. So after class, meet me in the C wing boys' bathroom. We'll switch there so I can handle practice after class. Then we'll all meet at that school to switch back again."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon chews his lip. "Could I still have a shot at Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Only until you take that mask off."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon looks between you and Caleb, and his face is black.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," he snarls. "I'll handle the rest of today, but I'm not spending another night like this!" He stomps off, and Caleb's gait as Gordon is much more in character than Gordon's gait as Caleb had been.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb laughs and brushes himself down. You gulp. "What did he see at your house last night?"<br/>
<br/>
The smile remains on Caleb's face, but it vanishes from his eyes. "You'll find out. 'Cos like I said, I'm going home as <i>you</i> tonight."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
In Walberg's class, Caleb relaxes in his chair with his feet up on the desk in front of him, and scopes out the girls. He's so open about it that Kelsey Blankenship snarls at him to take his eyes off her. He responds by biting his thumb at her and blowing a kiss. She turns crimson. "Stop shitting yourself," he says when he catches you gaping at him. But he is alert all through class and takes good notes, though his handwriting looks nothing like Caleb's. You're shaking your head in wonderment when you part after class.<br/>
<br/>
You share second period with Keith, and he asks with a snicker what happened when you reached the gym. "Did you know Gordon was waiting for us?" you ask. "Why didn't you warn us?"<br/>
<br/>
"I would've, but Johansson had to be a dick. So what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, that's what happened." But though he presses, you refuse to say another word on the subject.<br/>
<br/>
So when you meet "Caleb" at his locker at lunch, you are inclined to propose another eating place he when talks about grabbing Tilley for the "usual" lunchtime routine.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212
author_id: seuzz
title: A Theory of Bully Management
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Where are we meeting Tilley?" Caleb asks as he frowns into his locker.<br/>
<br/>
You almost suggest some other eating arrangements. But where? Gordon famously doesn't get along with Carson Ioeger and James Lamont, so eating with that group is out. And eating alone with him would expose you to Gordon's personality more directly. At least if Tilley is around, your fake friend will have to control himself so as to maintain his imposture.<br/>
<br/>
So when he turns on you with a hot, querying glance, you stammer out, "By the music wing, usually."<br/>
<br/>
He holds your eye, then with a grunt slams his locker shut.<br/>
<br/>
You run into Keith in A wing on your way out. You tense when he raises that same subject from second period: "So what did Gordon want with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who said he wanted something with me?" Caleb says, and doesn't even look at Keith.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon did. He was hulking out in front of the gym, grabbed me by the neck as I tried getting past. 'Where's your friend Johansson?' he said."<br/>
<br/>
"And you ratted us out," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say fuck to him!" Keith protests. "I think I said 'Eep' and then I said 'I dunno', and then he said, 'When you see 'em tell 'em I'm looking for 'em'. I didn't even know he knew who we were. So what did he want with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, we didn't see him," says Caleb. He slams open the door to A wing and leads your company over to the corner of the music wing.<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit. I heard he hustled you out to the portables."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't believe everything you here." Caleb drops to the grass and rips open his lunch bag.<br/>
<br/>
Keith stares at him and blinks. "Then I guess I shouldn't believe <i>you.</i> But come on, what's the big secret?"<br/>
<br/>
"The big secret is that if I don't want to tell you I won't tell you." Caleb opens his sandwich, sniffs at it, and tears a great hunk from it with his teeth.<br/>
<br/>
Keith gives you a look, then snorts. "Someone give you a fucking a testosterone booster, Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
"A what?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith drums his chest like a gorilla. "Ung. Me tear guts out of lunch sack, eat like fucking jungle warrior."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stops in mid-chew. <br/>
<br/>
"Keith," you say in a small, pained voice.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb swallows his mouthful while holding Keith's eye. "What, d'jou bring a knife and fucking fork with your lunch?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, actually," says Keith as he opens his own bag. "Well, not a knife, but I'm not gonna eat lasagna with my fingers."<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme see that." Caleb s rips the Tupperware container out of Keith's hands.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, give that back!" Tilley leaps at him, but Caleb shoots out an arm and with a cry Keith falls back to nurse his chest. "Fucker! That's my -- !"<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanna see it. You wanna cry about it? There's a girl's bathroom in A wing, you can get yourself a fresh tampon while you're at it." Caleb pries the lid off the container and pokes a finger into the lasagna. He scoops out a hunk with his index finger and pops it in his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
Keith gapes at you. You can only flash a terrified rictus back at him.<br/>
<br/>
"That's pretty good," Caleb says, and hands it back to Keith, who clutches it to his chest in an aggrieved fashion. "Who fixed it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I made it myself. I've told you I can make a mean lasagna!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's good. Why don't you start bringing portions in, sell them? People'd probably buy 'em, it's better than the shit they sling in the cafeteria."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Keith grumbles. "If I did that, I'd have Javits <i>and</i> the Molester <i>and</i> Gordon all after me, and they wouldn't be paying me for what I'm trying to sell."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb has ripped another bite from his sandwich, and he glares at Keith around the mouthful. "So?" he mumbles. "Anyone fucks with you over it, just bend 'em over and shove a hot pan of pain up their ass."<br/>
<br/>
You laugh despite yourself, snorting a wad of peanut butter up into your back nostril cavities.<br/>
<br/>
"Fah!" Keith cries. "You're talking like you fucking beat <i>Gordon's</i> ass instead of it being the other way around."<br/>
<br/>
"Who says I didn't beat his ass?"<br/>
<br/>
"I do!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb gets up on his knees. "I know I can fucking tattoo yours."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna fight you, Johansson, I just wanna know why you think I could fucking take on Javits or the Molester!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know why you can't, and it's because of your fucking attitude. Shit." Caleb grabs Keith by the bicep and shakes him. With a hot glare, Tilley pulls away. "If you at least had the right fucking attitude maybe you could convince 'em to give you some room and respect."<br/>
<br/>
"And what attitude would that be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck 'em. That's the attitude." Caleb's face becomes very hard, and there's a hot light in his eye. "You can't beat their asses, but you can make 'em think second thoughts, and that's a fucking lot better than pissing yourself and running away. Goddamn it," he mutters. "Watching you flapping away from the gym the morning -- "<br/>
<br/>
"So why don't you try it some time, Johansson?" Keith yells. "Like on the Molester. You're always pissing yourself about him."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I am," Caleb says, as though this is an epiphany. "Well, it stops today."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit," Keith sneers. "If it stops today, how about we go find him now."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, why don't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, hey!" you yell as the two are getting to their feet. (You finally snorted that snotball of peanut butter out, and gave yourself a choking fit when it hit the back of your throat.) "Don't go running off doing something stupid. Caleb, you can do that the next time you see him. And stop goading him, Tilley, it's like you <i>want</i> to see him hurt."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe I do," Keith says darkly.<br/>
<br/>
"What I wanna know," you continue, turning back to Caleb, "is why you think this would work on Gordon. Go on, explain it to me," you continue as his face freezes. "Explain to me how you'd put so much pain on Gordon that he wouldn't just pick up his car and hit you with it."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks trapped, as you'd intended him to be, and glances between you and Keith. He licks his lips. Then he blurts out a name: "Kirkham."<br/>
<br/>
"David Kirkham?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. You ever notice how Black and them leave Kirkham alone?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't mess with him," Keith says. "He <i>is</i> psychotic."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin' A. You know, Black could fold him up and hurt him if he had to," Caleb says with more confidence. "But he doesn't. You know why? Because Kirkham makes sure that he's more trouble than he's worth. He doesn't give Black and them any shit, but they don't give him any either."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know this?" Keith jeers.<br/>
<br/>
"I can believe it," you say. "So that's what you're saying Keith needs to do. He needs to turn himself into a psychotic fuckhead like Kirkham, and then -- "<br/>
<br/>
"No. We want him to be as sweet and lovable as he is now." He grabs Keith by the neck and pulls him into a head lock. "It's just around Javits and shits like that he oughta turn himself into a fucking little maniac." He releases Keith, who is now very red in the face.<br/>
<br/>
"So why don't you go try that on Gordon?" you tell Caleb. "Right now. You were hot to go after the Molester, go after Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
But he waves you off. "Black doesn't give me shit, why should I give him shit? But if I see the other guy -- " He mimes popping someone in the face.<br/>
<br/>
Keith laughs.<br/>
<br/>
But that's all that gets said on that subject, until you bring it back up again after Keith has left early for his locker, and you and Caleb are heading back into the building. "Were you serious about all that shit you were saying earlier? About being more trouble than we're worth to guys like, uh, you? Or were you just setting us up for an epic amount of fail?"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face at you. "I'm serious, Prescott. So you might get hurt, so fucking what?"<br/>
<br/>
"So we should try that?"<br/>
<br/>
He stops, and gives you a once over, up and down. "Well, maybe not right away." He grabs your bicep, the way he grabbed Tilley's. "No reason to start anything. Why don't you put some muscle on? School's got a fucking weight deck, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"It's also got some serious psychos who hang out on it," you reply. "Like Kirkham and the Molester and Lynch -- " Your throat freezes as soon as you say that last name, for that's one of Gordon's best friends.<br/>
<br/>
But he actually nods. "Yeah, alright. But there's gyms in town. Why not join one of them?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know how to use them. Like, how to use the machines."<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, you're just looking for excuses. They're not hard, it's not like that fucking Calculus class I had to sit through this morning. They got staff to explain it to you. Or just find someone who knows the shit and get them to show it to you. Here at school, even, then go to the gym."<br/>
<br/>
It still doesn't sound like your style, but you make a noise in your throat that might pass for agreement.<br/>
<br/>
"It's so fucking simple," Caleb continues. "If you don't understand something, ask for help. Like right now, I need your help with something, so I'm going to ask."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?" You stop in your tracks. "What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who the fuck is this 'Molester' I'm supposed to be shitting myself over?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
On that question you enlighten him -- it's Lester "The Molester" Pozniak, soccer goalie and bully -- and part for the rest of the day. He's given you some food for thought.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's theory of bully management -- make yourself too ugly to hassle -- sounds plausible, and by admitting that he finds Kirkham too ugly to handle he's almost got you believing it. But he's also admitted that you'll get hurt before the trick starts to take effect. So you are pretty sure you won't be using it.<br/>
<br/>
But it's in the back of your head.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Place Where the Monster Lives
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The next time you see Caleb, it's by his car in the parking lot after school. You're leaning against his trunk, waiting for him, and he's looking a lot less confident -- a lot more freaked out -- as he approaches. "The fuck do you want?" he asks warily.<br/>
<br/>
"To talk. Uh, it is <i>you,</i> isn't it, Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. So what do you what do you want to talk about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna find out how the day went. Are you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
He shivers. "I guess. It's a little weird being back this way after -- " He shivers again.<br/>
<br/>
"So what happened last night at Gordon's? Why were you so freaking desperate to get out of his mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because his dad's about fifty times worse than he is! Come on, go with me and I'll explain it."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, Gordon wants us to meet him at the elementary school at five-thirty. We can hang out there until he shows."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's go someplace else, get something to eat. After last night, that place has bad memories."<br/>
<br/>
"Only if you pay. I'm cleaned out."<br/>
<br/>
"Deal. I lifted ten bucks from Gordon's wallet before we switched back."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Ten bucks doesn't go far at Panera Bread, but you are able to get some coffees and cheap pastries. <br/>
<br/>
"The day itself wasn't awful," Caleb tells you as he munches a berry scone. "Not after I bailed out of that dumb practice section. Jesus, the looks Steve Patterson was giving me. But Gordon's classes are all jokes, so that was okay -- "<br/>
<br/>
"How was Chelsea?" You'd like to leer, but from the way Caleb is talking, it sounds like it wasn't a leer-worthy encounter.<br/>
<br/>
"Crazy. Gordon's in even worse trouble with her now, because I didn't meet her after the classes I was supposed to meet her after, and I screwed up at lunch. That was almost worse than the basketball practice. I just sat there at lunch and shoved food in my face and didn't talk. That's how Gordon told me to act around his friends, by the way. He told me to just keep my mouth shut and I'd be okay. I guess I was. Patterson cornered me a couple of times with questions and shit, and I just shrugged and said 'Huh' and he seemed to think it was normal. And Lynch -- giggling little creep -- I just ignored him."<br/>
<br/>
"Was there anything good about the day?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't have to fight my through the hallways," Caleb says after a moment's thought. "That was kind of nice. I just walked through, and people bounced off me. You know," he adds, cocking his head. "I always figured Gordon was being an asshole when he knocked people around in the halls, but maybe he just doesn't notice them." He gives you a worried look. "How was he as me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me about what happened at his house last night. Then I'll frighten you with what he got up to today."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's eyes go wide. "No. You tell me first."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh uh. You finish talking about Gordon's life." You fill your mouth with coffee.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, his dad's crazy. He kind of warned me last night about it. Like, 'Don't close your bedroom door' and 'Always call him "sir",' and 'Make sure the kitchen is spotless', and crap like that. His dad's a cop, and he's not as big as Gordon, but he's mean and he's got a nasty tongue on him. I left a sponge in the kitchen sink, and he got real quiet and his face got really red, and he just licked me up one side and down the other about keeping things tidy. I seriously thought he was going to belt me.<br/>
<br/>
"But the real kicker was this morning. I come out of the bathroom from showering, and he stone-cold stops me in the hall, just puts out this hand to my shoulder and knocks me back and asks if I cleaned out the sink when I was done. And I said I did, because I'm not an idiot, I know the answer to that question is going to be 'yes', and he forces me back into the bathroom. And he holds me there while he runs a finger down in the sink. And he pulls it up and he shows it to me and he says -- "<br/>
<br/>
Caleb puts his index finger to your face, and opens his eyes wide like a maniac. His mouth splits into a snarl. "Does this look like clean to you?" he says in a fierce whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm shitting bricks," he continues, "because this guy's built like a fire plug, and he forces me around to face the sink, and he kicks me in the back of the knees to force me down, and he presses my face into the sink and he says 'This is shit. You clean it up now, or I will clean it with your face.' And he slams my face down into the porcelain. Not hard, because I'm bent wrong, but enough to make my head ring a little."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," you say when you've recovered your voice. "Jesus. Now we know where Gordon gets it from."<br/>
<br/>
"No shit. And I thought I got it from my mom last week when I left my pants in the middle of the living room floor." He slurps his coffee. "Now, there's no way you can frighten me more with anything Gordon did today."<br/>
<br/>
"I think I can," you tell him, and relate the lunchtime conversation with him and Keith. "When you saw him after school, did he tell you anything about running into the Molester?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's mouth is hanging open, and his face is green. "No," he says faintly. "Did he?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. But you better hope he didn't. And you better hope he doesn't the next time he's inside your mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, Will, we can't let him get into our lives again. Not into my life, anyway, and he'll fuck up yours too, if -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You think he's going to stop with the masks? After what you just told me, do you think he's ever going to go home as himself again? He's just going to keep sending us -- "<br/>
<br/>
"We can stop him when we're inside his mask. He can't force anyone in that Neanderthal body -- "<br/>
<br/>
"And once he's out the mask then <i>he's</i> got the Neanderthal body and he can force <i>us</i> -- "<br/>
<br/>
None of this horrified talk gets you anywhere. And when Gordon calls Caleb's number a little before five to remind you both about the afternoon meeting, you realize you've no choice but to go out to the elementary school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Don't close your bedroom door. Always call him 'sir'. Make sure every room and everything in the room is spotless when you're done."<br/>
<br/>
It's Will Prescott who's explaining this to you, and he looks very intense as he does. He's one to talk about neatness: his clothes are sloppy and his hair is a mess and he's squinting up at you.<br/>
<br/>
He has to squint up at you. You're almost six-foot-five.<br/>
<br/>
On arriving at the elementary school, Gordon instantly reminded you that it would be your turn to take over for him. When you started to protest, he just lifted you off your feet, dropped you on a table and began to rip the clothes off your frame. You'd given in, and after pulling off your boxers had unhappily taken the mask from him.<br/>
<br/>
You were dizzy when you woke up, and were dizzier when you got onto your feet. The ground seemed very far away. You started to flex your new muscles, but -- "Get dressed. You can feel yourself up at home," said Will Prescott from the next table over, and hurled a t-shirt at you.<br/>
<br/>
It wasn't a long list of instructions he gave you once you were dressed as each other, but he breaks it off suddenly now by telling you there's a complete set of rules on his phone, which he'd texted to Caleb the night before. "Study them and don't forget them," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes sir," you say, figuring it's good to get some practice with the "sir"-ing in. But he doesn't answer right away, being busy pulling your books out of your bag and his from his bag and swapping them around, so that you can do your own homework.<br/>
<br/>
"Make a list of your classes and any rules I need to follow, text it to me when you get home. You got my number?" he asks sharply, and you nod. "Do I need to be anywhere soon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Home for supper by six-thirty."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. But get your ass to my place. If you're not home when my dad gets home, you'll regret it." He stabs a finger at his Bug, and you hop over to it.<br/>
<br/>
How you get yourself folded up in that tiny cabin you're not sure. But you get away and get home without a crick in your neck.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You manage to beat Gordon's dad home by about five minutes, which isn't enough time to get used to this new body but is enough time to start feeling worried. That sense of worry intensifies when you glance out the front window and spot a guy in a cop's uniform kneeling in the yard. You watch, gulping, until he raises his head and locks eyes with you.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's dad is only a little over six feet tall, but he's brawny, and with the buzz cut and in his patrolman's uniform he looks like the stereotype of the strict disciplinarian. You look at each other, and you feel yourself turning whiter as he turns redder.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, it dawns on you that he wants you to come outside. Your hand is trembling as you lay hold of the door knob.<br/>
<br/>
"What is this?" he says quietly when you're on the porch. He doesn't indicate anything.<br/>
<br/>
"Sir?"<br/>
<br/>
"Wrong answer. What is this?"<br/>
<br/>
You open your mouth, but no sounds can come out. What are you supposed to say if you can't ask him what he's talking about?<br/>
<br/>
His face goes so red it's almost purple. His voice is a whisper when he speaks again: "I thought we put the switch away for good. Get it from the shed."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Switch?</i><br/>
<br/>
Then you realize what he must be talking about.<br/>
<br/>
At the same time, another voice sounds in your head: <i>Make yourself more trouble than you're worth.</i></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211
author_id: seuzz
title: Breaking a Habit You Never Had
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Gordon Black's family lives in a small brick house on a shady street in one of the older neighborhoods. That doesn't mean it's a nice house or a nice neighborhood. It seems shabby and worn, and the moddish architecture on some of the houses -- glass bricks and whimsically sloped roofs -- give it the air of a "community of the future" whose time came and went thirty years ago. But it's a good neighborhood for the lower middle class, you suppose, and people probably like that there's a prowler parked every night in front of the Black residence.<br/>
<br/>
You, though, are terrified by the cop car, and by the cop who drives it.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon Black's dad isn't short, though he seems short to you, since you're wearing a copy of Gordon Black's body, and Gordon is six-and-a-half feet tall. But Mr. Black has a barrel chest and meaty arms, and if that weren't bad enough he's got a pistol on his belt.<br/>
<br/>
But none of that is as bad as his eyes, which are dead and flinty. His buzz cut bristles. And his face is almost black with anger.<br/>
<br/>
He is pissed at you about something, and he hasn't even been home for more than three minutes. He has just told you to fetch the "switch" from the "shed."<br/>
<br/>
That would probably be around back.<br/>
<br/>
There's a wooden fence around the side yard, but there's a gate in it, and on legs that shake you go through it into the back yard. In the far corner is a metal shed. The walk to it seems infinitely long, and but you make it in a horrifyingly short amount of time. Long before you're ready to face what comes next, you close your fingers on the door handle and tug it open.<br/>
<br/>
Inside is a lawnmower and lots of gardening implements. Only now do you realize you've no idea what the "switch" will look like. Will it be a stick, or will it be a strap?<br/>
<br/>
You look over each item in the shed, ruling out trowels and shears (and the lawnmower) until nothing plausible is left except a bamboo cane. You shudder as you grasp it. It is hard, but flexible. Your ass tightens in anticipation.<br/>
<br/>
You slide the shed door shut and turn around. Gordon's dad, with hands on his hips, is in the yard, looking around at the grass. As you approach him, you're terrified that he'll tell you it's the wrong thing, but he accepts it when you hold it out.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you know why we have to do this?" he asks you quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"No sir." You'd say "yes" but you're afraid he'll ask you the reason, and then you'll get an extra whipping for lying.<br/>
<br/>
"That's why you're getting an extra stripe," he says. "Do you know why you're getting the first stripe?"<br/>
<br/>
"No sir."<br/>
<br/>
"And that will be good for a third. Then I'll explain it all to you, and you can meditate on your failings."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Three whacks.</i> This is insane.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Make yourself more trouble than you're worth.</i> That voice sounds again.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Gordon is eighteen years old. He's an adult.</i> You know this because you looked at his driver's license while stopped at a light.<br/>
<br/>
"Turn around."<br/>
<br/>
You oblige. <i>He's bigger than his dad. Why does he accept this abuse?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Bend over."<br/>
<br/>
You bend over.  <i>What can his dad do? Kill him? Gordon can surely take any physical blows his dad can dish out.</i> But can you?<br/>
<br/>
"Drop your shorts."<br/>
<br/>
You freeze. His dad is going to break the skin if you do that.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Make yourself more trouble than you're worth.</i><br/>
<br/>
"I said -- "<br/>
<br/>
You straighten up and turn around in time to see the switch swinging toward you. Instinct -- crappy instinct, maybe, but instinct nonetheless -- takes over. You catch the switch at its base.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you and Gordon's dad stare at each other. <br/>
<br/>
Then you wrench the switch from him. <br/>
<br/>
Hardly knowing what you're doing, you break it in half. It's like snapping a piece of dried spaghetti.<br/>
<br/>
The older man's eyes go very wide.<br/>
<br/>
By now it's like an out of body experience: You take a step forward and stare down unblinkingly into his face.<br/>
<br/>
There's a buzzing in your brain, but you don't back down, for you are also intensely conscious of just how big you are, and though Gordon's dad is also big, you can sense how hard it would be for him to break you physically.<br/>
<br/>
He stares back, and you can sense the intense willpower as he tries to daunt you. But this isn't your dad, and you don't even have to remind yourself that he has no hold over you, except that of physical force. And you're willing to gamble he doesn't want to try that.<br/>
<br/>
But if it comes to a fight, could you overmaster him? You clench your jaw as you weigh the thought.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe that very tiny flash of determination is what ends the battle. You see it in the older man's eyes, and in his lips, which whiten: Fear -- terror, even -- comes into his face.<br/>
<br/>
Someone is breathing heavily, and you realize it's him.<br/>
<br/>
Little ropes of saliva show in his mouth when he opens it. "I told you to mow the lawn."<br/>
<br/>
"No you didn't," you reply. It's God's own truth -- he's never seen you before -- but you're sure either Gordon or Caleb would have mentioned it if he had.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you to mow the lawn," he growls again.<br/>
<br/>
"No you didn't," you repeat, this time with contempt.<br/>
<br/>
Then he surrenders: "You should have known to."<br/>
<br/>
"How? Am I psychic?"<br/>
<br/>
And he blinks. And blinks again, hard. He turns abruptly away and walks stiffly to the sliding glass door in the house. He opens it and goes inside.<br/>
<br/>
For a minute you pace the back yard. Your muscles are tense, but your joints are quivering. You wonder if you've actually won or just gotten a reprieve. But it seems best not to throw away the advantage you seem to have won. Besides, it comes to you how you can win some protection and also continue your defiance.<br/>
<br/>
So you follow him in. He's standing in the small living room, staring at a bookshelf. He doesn't turn at your entrance, but you feel his eyes on you as you pass him, and go down the short hallway to the room where you'd earlier dropped the book bag.<br/>
<br/>
Against the rules Gordon had outlined, you shut the bedroom door firmly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
For thirty minutes you work on homework, then when you're hungry venture out into the house for food and further acts of small but telling defiance. Gordon's mom -- Gordon told you -- is off visiting her sister on the other side of the country, so it's just the two Black men. His dad is in the kitchen at the sink when you come in, and he raises his head fractionally at your entrance. You ignore him and take a platter of cold chicken from the refrigerator. You pile a few pieces on a plate, adding apple sauce and pickles and a few green onions. Gordon's dad stands frozen at the sink as you prep this meal with the refrigerator door standing wide open. You leave it open, and you leave the food on the counter with the lids off, as you take the plate into the living room, where you turn on the TV and eat on the couch. You ignore him when he comes into the doorway to glower at you. Eventually, he gives up and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
He's sitting at the bar with a plate of his own and a book when you bring your empty plate back in. Instinct tells you not to push things too far, so as he watches you wash off your plate and put it in the dish washer, and you clean out the sink. You rinse and squeeze out the sponge. You soap and wipe down the counter. You dry it with a paper towel.<br/>
<br/>
Then you crumple up the paper towel and drop it on the countertop. Neither you nor he speak as you return to your room and shut the door again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Around eight o'clock you get a text from Jason Lynch: <i>Waht we doing weekend?</i><br/>
<br/>
You text back: <i>Figre out later</i><br/>
<br/>
An hour later you get a text from Steve Patterson, asking if you can talk on the phone about team business. You reply: <i>No talk tmorrw pratice.</i><br/>
<br/>
He texts back: <i>Someone break your thumbs?</i> but you don't reply.<br/>
<br/>
At ten o'clock your phone rings. It shows Will Prescott's number, so you answer. "How are things going out there?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure what to tell him, so you only say, "Okay."<br/>
<br/>
"My dad pissed at you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so, but we haven't talked since he got home."<br/>
<br/>
"You following those rules?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty much."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not good enough, Prescott," he says, and he would sound frightening except in your voice it comes out as a whine.<br/>
<br/>
"It seems okay for right now. How are things at my place?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're good. Your brother's getting on my nerves -- "<br/>
<br/>
"That's normal. By the way, do you have any kind of social life? I've only heard from two of your friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Funny, I haven't heard from any of yours. Do <i>you</i> have a social life?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if we haven't got anything to tell each other, I should -- "<br/>
<br/>
"We got one thing to talk about," he says. "That book. You know, the one you showed me yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart flips. "What about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, who's going to keep hold of it? Because it occurs to me that whoever is big enough and strong enough will probably grab it anyway. You know who that would be, right?"<br/>
<br/>
That kind of boasting sounds very funny in your voice. "That would be you," you say dully.<br/>
<br/>
His reply startles you: "If we were fighting about it tonight, it would be you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>That's true.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So here's what I'm thinking," he says. "Whoever's wearing my mask gets to hold onto the book. So if you want to keep hold of it, keep wearing my mask, filling my spot at home. Or, if you want out after tonight, you can let me have it."</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Brief Return to Normality
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a terrible pinch Gordon has put you in. You want to keep control of the grimoire; but do you want the pay the price? Gordon's home life sucks. And although you managed to dodge a literal whipping, who knows what tomorrow will bring.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe there will be a solution in the book. You should try to get through as many more spells as you can in case there is one.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll take the book tomorrow," you tell Gordon. "If we're going to take turns with your mask -- Well, someone else can take two nights in a row later on."<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna try doing the next spell?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"If I can get the ingredients."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll make a list of them tonight, give it to you tomorrow. Early," he adds. "We're going to switch off for basketball practice, okay? There any other classes we want to switch for? Your friend Johansson was shitting himself over the notes I took in math and science."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is taking an AP Calculus class as well as Statistics, which outmatches your own regular Calculus class. But you'd rather have that one in hand yourself, so you suggest doing a switch there. You pull out Gordon's schedule to see if there will be a problem.<br/>
<br/>
He must be looking over your schedule too, for he says "That'll work" after a pause. "That'll put me in my weight training class sixth period, and you say you don't know shit about weights. Meet me in the F wing men's room at the end of lunch."<br/>
<br/>
And that basically finalizes plans for the morrow. You finish your homework, and with nothing else to do make an early night of it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The alarm wakes you very early, but the smell of bacon helps get you up. You take a fast shower -- and clean up after yourself -- but there's nothing for you in the kitchen when you come out. But you didn't expect anything, for that was in Gordon's notes: You have to make breakfast for yourself. It's not something you're used to, and you fumble a little with the bacon and the eggs.<br/>
<br/>
It's all the worse because Gordon's dad is sitting at the bar watching you.<br/>
<br/>
He says nothing, and you say nothing to him; nor do you look at him. But he rattles you, and you have a hard time remembering all the little rules you're supposed to obey. You do your best to follow all of them; but maybe you earned yourself a lot of slack yesterday, because you don't get a reprimand when -- as you realize too late -- you leave the paper towel roller empty instead of instantly refilling it. And you don't get a reprimand when -- even after you notice it's empty -- you leave it empty.<br/>
<br/>
You're about to eat when Gordon's dad speaks. "What do you want to do for dinner?" His voice is very even and controlled, but there is no apparent anger in it.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "It doesn't matter to me. Whatever you want." When he doesn't answer, you offer to pick up something from McDonald's.<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "That'll work." He stands up to get out his wallet, and deposits a twenty dollar bill on the counter. He requests a Big Mac and fries. "Are you going to mow the lawn this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do that. Depending on how late I am getting out of practice and getting dinner, it might be this evening before I get to it." You look at him directly, and raise your chin.<br/>
<br/>
Even that gets no rise from him. "That'll be fine," he says, and after hiking his pants up he leaves.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You woke so early that even now it's only six-twenty, but you need to meet Gordon early, so you wait until you hear the cruiser start up and pull out, then run out the door to the Bug. Ten minutes later you're parked behind Panera, where you'd set up the rendezvous with Gordon. He's already there, waiting in your truck.<br/>
<br/>
<i>How weird is this,</i> you think as you unfold yourself from the VW Bug. <i>Gordon Black is meeting Will Prescott.</i> But weirder than that: He's the guy who looks like you, and you're the guy who looks like him.<br/>
<br/>
Will Prescott chucks his chin at you. "You still wanna stick it out there tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I gotta mow the lawn, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit." All the life and color goes out of his face. "That's -- " He visibly struggles for words; and maybe he struggles against his own conscience. "You're not gonna be able to handle it," he finally says. "The lawn has to be perfect. Billiard-table perfect."<br/>
<br/>
"How hard is that with a mower?"<br/>
<br/>
"And the weeder. And you gotta take care of the crap that sprouts in the middle of the back yard." He looks away. "I'm not taking it back, not tonight, not to mow. But if you wanna shove it onto Johansson -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I'll stick it out," you say stubbornly. "In fact, I'll stick it out until something bad happens. Like what happened to Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you'll be switching tomorrow," Will says bluntly. "Just be ready for it. Okay, let's get this done. You change out in your truck, then I'll bring your shit over to you when I'm done. Oh, I left the book under the bench in your truck, and there's a list of shit to get inside it. It doesn't look like much."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll need money. I don't have any, and I don't think you do."<br/>
<br/>
"Talk to Lynch, tell him to give you forty or fifty or whatever you need."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll give it to me? He carries that kind of cash?" you ask in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck yeah. He's like my own personal banker, and he doesn't ask for it back."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's only six forty-five by the time you're back into your own clothes. The main school building probably won't be open, and you've no desire to watch Gordon and the team practice in the gym. So you stay parked at Panera and use your iPhone to double-check Gordon's translations of the ingredients for the next spell, and the directions for performing it. He's right that it doesn't look hard. You just have to find some metal strips and carve some runes into them. You will need to find some tools for doing the carving, though. You spend a little time shopping online, checking out prices and places to get the goods, and decide you can probably get all that you need for less than thirty-five dollars.<br/>
<br/>
But no place will be open yet, so you drive to school. It's still so early that you're able to get a primo spot right next to the theater; and the library has just opened so you camp out there. You shoot Caleb a text, then drop into a micro-nap while waiting for him to show up.<br/>
<br/>
But it's Keith Tilley who pokes you awake. "You're supposed to do that in class," he says as he drops next to you at the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Do what?" you ask as you rub your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Sleep. What are you doing here so early? I never see you here this early."<br/>
<br/>
"What are <i>you</i> doing here early?"<br/>
<br/>
"I always try to get here by eight, even if I don't always make it." He leans back and clasps his hands behind his head. And because he's wearing his ball cap brim-backwards, it pops off his head and falls to the floor. You roll your eyes as he falls out his chair while bending to retrieve it.<br/>
<br/>
"I woke up early and didn't want to hang around the house," you tell him when he's back in his chair. "I didn't know this was your regular time for getting here." You look at the clock: a few minutes after eight.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's the perfect time for getting here. Maximal time between when Javits shows up for practice and when he gets out."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you organize your whole life around Javits?"<br/>
<br/>
"You do what you gotta do," Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's like he's your boyfriend. Or anti-boyfriend or some shit like that." Keith flips you off. "You gonna kick him in the balls next time you see him, like -- " You catch yourself. "Like Caleb was telling you to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker. I should kick <i>him</i> in the balls for all that shit he was giving me yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you should." It would be a funny thing, and you can't help snickering: Keith punishing Caleb for something that Gordon said yesterday. "Go tell him what you think of him."<br/>
<br/>
But Keith only shrugs. "Neh. He means well."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus." You can't help regarding Keith with a little contempt. "You're so scared of making trouble, you won't even give him the shit he deserves."<br/>
<br/>
"Back at ya," he says, and jerks his chin at you. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, maybe he's right.</i> You let the subject drift away and start talking about classes and girls -- Keith informs you, in brief, that he is in favor of the latter, not so much a fan of the former -- and when Caleb joins you there's no return to the earlier subject. <br/>
<br/>
He gives you a narrow, sidelong glance, and pointedly addresses himself to Keith: "Let's eat in the cafeteria today."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's something I wanna see."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." Keith turns to you. "That alright with you?"<br/>
<br/>
But Caleb answers: "Will can come if he wants. Doesn't matter to me."<br/>
<br/>
Obviously Caleb worries or suspects you're actually Gordon. And it's eight-fifteen by now, time to meet Gordon to make the next switch of the day. "I'll catch you faggots later," you say as you get to your feet, and try to strut out the library the way you'd seen Gordon do it yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
Out in the hallway, you find yourself wondering if you should talk to the others about bringing Keith in on the scheme. The poor asshole is going to be confused if his friends keep acting out of character; and maybe some time as "Gordon Black" would give him a chance to get back at Javits.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112
author_id: seuzz
title: The School When Viewed from on High
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The school restrooms are always crowded before class, and you're taking your life in your hands every time you use one. The restroom in F wing -- the restroom nearest the gym that isn't in the gym itself -- is one of the more dangerous ones, and you get some sharp and hooded looks from the guys crowded inside it. There's some shoving and cussing near the sinks, and one kid in a denim jacket grabs a guy in a gray hoodie and jams him back against the wall, but a real scrum fails to develop. You keep your head up and your shoulders back and your chest out while staying out of the way. Whether that's the reason or not, you're not actually stopped and hassled.<br/>
<br/>
What you need, though, is a stall, and they all seem to be occupied.<br/>
<br/>
But you only have to wait a few minutes before help arrives.<br/>
<br/>
The door slams back, knocking two skinny guys with close-cropped hair against each other. They wheel with a snarl --<br/>
<br/>
And the snarl dies in their throats. Gordon Black comes in, and you can almost hear the sphincters loosening.<br/>
<br/>
He's enormous, like a mobile monolith, or a landslide that has achieved consciousness. He has to duck his head under the door jamb, and his shoulders almost brush the sides of the door. He's dressed in a sleeveless red t-shirt and purple athletic shorts; his legs are like tree trunks, and his arms are like battering rams.<br/>
<br/>
He grabs a fistful of brown paper towels from the dispenser and brandishes them overhead. "Anyone who's not on an all-fiber diet, get the fuck out. If you're still here by the time I count ten, I will make you bob for loose shit in a toilet bowl. One. Two. Three -- "<br/>
<br/>
Paralysis has struck the crowd, though, and he's already reached "four" before the it start to move. A rumble of feet, pierced by the squeak of rubber soles on tile, echoes off the walls. <br/>
<br/>
"Five. Six. Seven." The laggards start shoving the ones in the doorway, and yells and catcalls sound outside. <br/>
<br/>
"Eight. Nine." There are only three guys left by now, and it looks like they're trying to liquefy and ooze their way through the gaps the crowd. <br/>
<br/>
"Ten."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon grabs the last two guys by the neck and pulls them back in. These were two of the unfortunates who were caught in the stalls when Gordon entered. He squeezes them in the crook of his arms. "You two have just volunteered. Stand outside and tell everyone who shows that this bathroom is closed. Tell 'em I'm inside. You know who I am, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Erp. Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up." He shoves them into the hallway and kicks the door closed behind them. Then he turns toward you.<br/>
<br/>
You come real close to throwing yourself face down on the tile and howling for mercy. Gordon looks completely pissed off, and the terrifying thought flashes through your head that he heard from his dad about what happened last night and is going to take it out on you.<br/>
<br/>
But he just jerks his head at the stalls. "Now that we got some privacy, let's do this."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Just keep quiet and listen for your name," Will Prescott says as he washes his hands. He yanks the cap off his head and stares critically at himself while running his fingers through his stiff hair. "Don't make any plans with Steve or Chelsea or anyone, unless you want to be the one who hangs out with them. You know, like if you make plans for Saturday night, then <i>you're</i> going to be the one -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I know, I get it," you say. You're stooped so you can look at yourself in the mirror. You rake your own fingers through short brown hair.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. You got my schedule? Then I'll see you at the end of fifth." He settles the cap back on his head and swaggers over to the door. It hits him in the foot as he opens it, and he cusses as he leaves the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
You straighten up and sweep the backpack onto your shoulders. It feels astonishingly light. But then, you're as strong as a gorilla.<br/>
<br/>
The handle to the door isn't where you expect it to be, and you are also clumsy at opening the door. Those two guys are still standing guard outside, looking miserable. "Hey, thanks for watching me shit," you tell them, and plunge into the boiling crowd in the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
Somehow, this feels more like your first real experience as Gordon, even though you spent last night as him. Maybe it's because you're in an environment you already know, but are seeing it from his perspective. You can see the tops of everyone's heads, for instance. In fact, that's the first thing you notice. Where usually you are stuck with a face full of everyone else's faces -- or the backs of their heads -- and have to peer around them to see anything, now you can see over them all the way to the end of the farthest wing.<br/>
<br/>
The next thing you notice is how easy it is to get through the halls. No more sliding and squeezing and getting trampled. You're like a snowplow pushing through loose and flaky banks of powder, and it's everyone else who has to stumble and fall into each other as you move through the wing. It's not like walking through an empty space -- the hall is too coagulated for that -- but you don't have to swim through it.<br/>
<br/>
And when someone curses at you, you only have to turn and look at them for the anger to die into a sullen look.<br/>
<br/>
Your first class is Spanish, but it's first-semester Spanish, and you're only a few weeks into the year, so the class is still basically at the starting block. You might be the only senior in the class -- no one else looks bigger than a sophomore, and the seats next to you are empty when you sit down. It's a boring class of drills, exercises and vocabulary, and as the adrenaline from the change wears off your head begins to fall forward. The hour drones on, and your eyes are heavy when the bell finally rings.<br/>
<br/>
Second period is something called CAD-Technology with Mr. Boykin, a teacher you've not had, but have seen around: a classic nerd with a bad haircut and a graying beard. That's another class heavy on non-seniors. The only person you know in there is Jeremy Richards -- an old middle-school friend of yours who ceased to be a friend when he decided to try being a jock. Gordon would know him too, since Jeremy's athletic skill mostly consists of being tall and therefore tricked out for the basketball squad. From what you've heard, he isn't that good, and he flinches when you come in the door. But you ignore him, which is easy, since there's a seating chart and you're on the other side of the room from him.<br/>
<br/>
"CAD" means "Computer Assisted Design." It isn't a programming class, but you do have to use software. You're amazed that Gordon is letting you handle this class for him, since you know nothing about what's going on. But maybe he just doesn't care. There's a computer at each desk, and you log in and listen with baffled bemusement as Mr. Boykin outlines the day's work. Since you have no idea what's going on, you only sit like a lump. You're feeling very embarrassed until it hits you: You've no reason to feel embarrassed, since to everyone's eye it's "Gordon Black" who is being embarrassed.<br/>
<br/>
So you raise your hand, call Mr. Boykin over, and point at the screen. "I don't know what to do."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs heavily and tells you to launch a program.<br/>
<br/>
"Which one is that?"<br/>
<br/>
In a very annoyed voice he asks if you've been paying any attention in class.<br/>
<br/>
"No. But I'm thinking I'd like to start."<br/>
<br/>
That gets some snickers from nearby, but you let them pass since they seem to be laughing with you, not at you. Mr. Boykin makes a choking noise in his throat, and with elaborate condescension leads you by baby steps into setting up the day's project. It turns out not to be that hard, and after monopolizing his attention for fifteen minutes you're able to continue on your own.<br/>
<br/>
The end of second period brings a long break for you: a study hall followed by lunch. Gordon told you that he usually spends third period with Jason Lynch, which makes you shudder, but he usually spends it in the old gym loft. That would be a nice bonus on the day, because the gym loft is not just a "gym loft." It's known around the school as the "fuck room."<br/>
<br/>
Certainly it's not official school policy, but it appears to be a long-standing school tradition: the school's top athletes, the ones that lead the teams with the most promise, get a key to that space and the right to use it as a clubhouse. The basketball squad is the core athletic team at Westside, so Gordon Black and his best friend Steve Patterson are the room's custodians this year. Rumor -- which is almost certainly true -- has it that they use it for drinking and fucking, and that they use it for those purposes every day during school hours. Naturally, you are terribly envious, and this will be your chance to see it, since the key is on the lanyard in your pocket. That you'd have to suffer the company of Jason Lynch would be the price to pay.<br/>
<br/>
But you need to hit him up for money anyway.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, there's other company you could keep during third period. That's when you met Eva Garner in the library the other day. It might be really amusing if Gordon Black landed at the table with her. It would be extra amusing -- and would do Caleb some good -- if Gordon Black talked to her about those rumors he heard about her going out with Caleb, and if he encouraged her to continue to see him.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122
author_id: seuzz
title: Making a Case from a Different Direction
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Yeah, you like the idea of using your current disguise to push Eva and Caleb closer together. It's like using the masks for good deeds.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Eva is at that same table in the library where you met her before. She does a double take when she looks up to see you, and her face tells you it's not a double take of pleasure. She adopts an expression of studious neutrality as you pull out a chair. "Hey Eva."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey yourself. I haven't seen Chelsea, if that's who you're looking for."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I came in here for study hall. Usually I hang out in the gym, you know." You can't resist the temptation to casually flex your brawny arms in front of a pretty girl. "But today I'm in here. Saw you. Mind if I sit with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"You already are." She lowers her head, returning her attention to her cell phone. She seems to think better of it, though, and shuts it off to pull her homework closer. Obviously, she's trying to freeze you out.<br/>
<br/>
But you're not going to let her. "I hear you picked up a boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
She twitches. "No. Where did you hear -- ? Oh. From Chelsea, right?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sure, that works, and is more believable than any other excuse.</i> "Yeah. She even pointed him out to me. She was all, like, can you believe that? But I don't see what the big deal is. I bet you'd be great together."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't fuck with me." The sharpness of her tone surprises you.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not fucking with you. I'm serious. I bet you'd be great together. I mean, if you like each other -- "<br/>
<br/>
"We're not going together, okay? So just stop it." She's turned pink.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at her, even though she's got her head bent and is furiously scribbling gibberish into her notebook. The miserable bitch is actually giving in to peer pressure, even though you're trying to support her. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey, if you wanna throw away a chance to be with a great guy," you tell her, "I guess that's your right. But you don't have to be pissy about it just because -- "<br/>
<br/>
That gets her to raise her face. "I'm not being pissy! And do you even know who he is?"<br/>
<br/>
That question, of course, shouldn't get an honest answer. "No. Who is he?"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter, because we're not -- " She is now very red. "Fuck off, Gordon, I don't want to talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
And that's too much for you. If you were being yourself you'd let it lie, you'd retreat in anger and resentment. Of course, if you were being yourself, you wouldn't even be having this conversation.<br/>
<br/>
But it's no skin off your nose if Gordon Black pisses her off. Besides, she's pissed you off real good.<br/>
<br/>
You snatch the pencil from her fingers and hurl it away. She swings around to glare at you with open-mouthed fury. But you keep your voice quiet. Firm, but quiet.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you pissed at me for, Eva? I'm not one of your fucking girlfriends, and I'm not one of your fucking cheerleader cunts. If you don't want me to care than I won't care." <i>That's a lie, but it comes out anyway.</i> "But Chelsea says you're seeing this guy, and I think <i>Good for Eva.</i> That's all, because it's nice when people are together. Isn't it? I don't give a fuck who you're going out with, but if they make you happy then what the fuck, you know? So why are you all defensive when I sit down and tell you, you know, I hear you found someone, I hope you're having a good time and I hope he's good for you?"<br/>
<br/>
Eva's face has passed through several different colors while you're talking, and it still hasn't settled on a final shade when you finish. "Are you serious?" she stammers. <br/>
<br/>
"Sure. So what's your problem?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have a problem. It's just that I'm <i>not</i> dating Caleb, and I don't like people assuming I am."<br/>
<br/>
"No? So why does Chelsea think you are?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know! Ask her!"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that why you're in a shit mood? Because Chelsea's giving you shit about it?"<br/>
<br/>
Eva turns a light shade of purple, and doesn't answer.<br/>
<br/>
"That is it, isn't it? God damn it, Eva, why do you pay attention to her? Her opinion doesn't count for shit." You feel very lightheaded as you say this, for you know you are courting disaster with Gordon by putting those traitorous words in his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe she feels the same thing, for her eyes widen and her mouth falls open. But she doesn't say anything.<br/>
<br/>
"So, do you like this guy or don't you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"He's just a friend!"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you go on a date or didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we had dinner together."<br/>
<br/>
"So Chelsea's pitching a fit because you had dinner with a friend? And that's got you shitting yourself? Christ, do you let her tell you who you can be friends with? Who you can eat with?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," she says defiantly. But she has to follow it up with a near-takeback. "But she has opinions. You know that."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, tell me about it," you improvise. "But don't tell me she's got <i>you</i> pussy-whipped."<br/>
<br/>
All the features on Eva's face try to go in a couple of different directions at the same time. When she recovers, she gives you a narrow look, and her tone turns tentative. "Are you saying she's got you, uh -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"Within reason." <i>Gordon is going to kill me,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
Her manner turns even more careful. "You know, a couple of days ago, you, uh, you took a guy out to the portables at lunch time," she says.<br/>
<br/>
She must be talking about the day Gordon hauled <i>you</i> out there. But you're not going to assume that's what she's talking about. "I haul lots of guys out there. You should be more specific."<br/>
<br/>
"A guy with blonde hair and a white ball cap. Kind of gangly and silly looking."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck you, Eva.</i> "Oh, him. What about him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea asked you to do that, didn't she?" Distaste shows on her face.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, yeah. So what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's a friend of my other friend, the one I had dinner with. You know why Chelsea wanted him, uh, disciplined?"<br/>
<br/>
"He was mouthing off to her or something."<br/>
<br/>
"It's because he was saying the same things to her that you're saying. That she shouldn't tell people who to be friends with, that if I wanted to date Caleb -- " She starts to turn pink again. "That it was my business, not hers."<br/>
<br/>
For a terrifying moment you think she's about to accuse you of being Will Prescott in disguise. But then you see the point she's trying to make, and you brush it off. "So what? I get to say that kind of stuff about Chelsea. Other guys don't."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." Her eyes narrow again. "Does Chelsea know you get to say that kind of stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon told you and Caleb that he's in the doghouse with Chelsea, on account of his failure to deal with you. Presumably, word of this has got back to Eva. "She knows I say it," you reply. "She just doesn't agree with me that I <i>get</i> to say it."<br/>
<br/>
Eva stares, then smiles tightly. "Well, thanks for caring about me, Gordon." Maybe she means it sincerely, but it comes out sarcastic.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I don't care. I'm just telling you what I think." You glance around. "I guess we should do some work, since it is a study hall." You take out the Spanish and start on that. If you can get it done, you can pass it along to Gordon to re-copy in his own handwriting.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Eva also has fourth-period lunch, so you go into the cafeteria together. Gordon gave you careful instructions on how to handle his dad, but none on how to handle Chelsea. He also gave you permission to be intimate with her if you got her to forgive him. As you survey the cafeteria -- and spot Chelsea at the table in the middle of the room -- you wryly conclude that Gordon is intentionally making it hard for his doppelgangers to close the sale with his girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
Internally, you shudder at the sight of the people at the table. Steve Patterson, Jason Lynch and Dalton Douglas are there: jock-bullies all. The girls are much easier on the eye, but they're always snooty and horrible to you: Kendra Saunders, Gloria Rea, and Chelsea herself. There's an empty space next to Gordon's girlfriend, so you figure it must be for him -- and hence for you. You catch Eva giving you a funny look as you lope over to the table in her company. She sits on the end while you drop onto the space next to Chelsea. Then -- <br/>
<br/>
Oh, wow. You do something you would never be able to do, or even dare to fantasize about, before you bought that grimoire. You put your arm around Chelsea Cooper's waist.<br/>
<br/>
She wriggles out from it and gives you the kind of look that she would give Will Prescott. Her voice is cold. "What do you think  you're doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sitting down to lunch with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you see any food in front of us? Any trays? No? Why not?" A sneer of contempt settles on her lip.<br/>
<br/>
It's like Caleb told you yesterday: She is pissed at Gordon, and she is going to make you and him pay for it.<br/>
<br/>
But then it occurs to you: She's not <i>your</i> girlfriend, and she's probably not going to put out anyway. So why should you have suffer on account of Gordon Black?</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222
author_id: seuzz
title: A Lunch Where No One Knows Your Name
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I don't have to put up with your shit," you tell Chelsea. "I can eat somewhere else."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes blaze as you rise, but she doesn't stop you. You catch a quick look from Patterson, but if his expression is supposed to mean anything to you, you can't read it.<br/>
<br/>
As you trudge over to the line to pick up a tray of food, you glance around the cafeteria. You don't often eat in here, since you bring your own lunch, but now you remember another reason you prefer to eat outside. There aren't many friendly faces.<br/>
<br/>
The room is packed mostly with freshmen, sophomores, and juniors, but even the seniors aren't the types you'd hang out with. Many of the tables are overrun with jocks. The basketball players and football players would be the worst to hang out with, but even the table where the track people and swimmers sit wouldn't be your kind of scene.<br/>
<br/>
The tables where cluster friendlier faces don't feel particularly welcome either. Christian Knouse and Darrell Parsons have their heads close together, but they'll be talking about RPGs and tabletop game crap. Andy Tackett and Kevin Winkler will be talking about literature and the latest indie movies.<br/>
<br/>
If pressed -- if you didn't have Caleb and Keith, or Carson Ioeger and James Lamont to fall back on -- you could join some of these without it being too awkward. Today, in Gordon Black's body, you'd feel completely out of place. You've no idea where else you might land.<br/>
<br/>
But you also don't want Chelsea to see you sitting by yourself. So when you've got your tray -- some horrible vegetable medley concoction -- you drop down at the table where the lesser jocks are clustered. And to make sure that Chelsea gets her blood pressure up, you drop down next to Olivia Byrne.<br/>
<br/>
She's one of Kelsey Blankenship's friends and hangs out with the AP types. So does Rachel Burton, but they're probably at this table because they're on the swim team and fit in easily with Fred Hildown (track), Marc Garner (soccer), Brooke Galloway (tennis) and Deanna Showalter (gossip). There's another girl here, sitting by Marc, who you don't know. They all look at you in surprise, except the girl you don't know, who just looks mildly interested. "Mind if I sit here?" you ask. You only get some shrugs in reply, and a few uneasy looks.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow some of the vegetables -- they've got a weird taste, but are edible -- and give Olivia a sidelong look. She's a brunette with thick hair that falls in a great sweep to the bottom of her neck, and her time in the water has smoothed and slimmed a natural hourglass figure. She's one of the girls that you quietly lust after but are forced to ignore because she is so obviously out of your league. As Gordon, though, you feel like you can talk to her.<br/>
<br/>
If only you had something to talk about. You lunge for the obvious. "So, what are you doing this weekend?"<br/>
<br/>
She glances back at you -- she's listening to Deanna prattle about something -- and looks surprised to see that you were talking to her. "Uh, no real plans, just hanging out with friends," she says. A quick expression passes over her face as she briefly looks you in the eye. For all the world it looks like guilt. But it instantly vanishes, and she swings back around again toward Deanna.<br/>
<br/>
"Just hanging out?" you ask her. "No parties?"<br/>
<br/>
Now she really does look surprised when she looks back at you. "No. No <i>party</i> parties, like at anyone's house." She gulps down a deep breath, and her face tightens. "Um." She hesitates, then blurts out: "Some of us are talking about going out to the Warehouse Saturday night. Maybe you and Chelsea, and Steve, if you're interested in going out there, you could meet us there." It doesn't sound like an invitation, but there's a querying note inside it.<br/>
<br/>
It's best to be noncommittal, though. "I'll talk to them about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Have you ever even been to the Warehouse?" Marc Garner asks. He's got a satirical twinkle in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
"Couple of times," you say. "I don't remember the last time, though."<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos you got your own party room, right?" He laughs. You don't respond to the allusion to the gym loft. As for "the Warehouse" --<br/>
<br/>
That's another one of those places in town -- one of too many -- that you only know by reputation, not experience. It's not a business like a nightclub or sports bar, only a traditional hangout for high school kids. It is, in fact, literally a warehouse, and it's located in the scary, post-industrial section of town. Most Fridays and Saturdays, you have heard, it is the setting of dances and semi-professional performances by amateur bands. On weekday nights it is supposed to be a lot more scary. It has a reputation for being dangerous, not because lots of fights break out there, but because it is basically a giant, illegal party scene. You've always been curious to see what it's all about -- dying to see what it's about -- but you have always shied away from it because you know, you just <i>know</i> that the one night you attend will be the night that the police raid the place, arrest everyone, and your dad has to come bail you out of a horrible municipal jail cell.<br/>
<br/>
Has Gordon ever been out there? You'd bet he has. You'll have to ask him.<br/>
<br/>
But for now you only ask Olivia who she knows that will be going out there, and she rattles off a lot of names, most of which you know and a few of which you don't. She talks about her favorite bands that have played out there. Somehow she steers the talk onto what she likes to do after school. "I've been hanging out at Starbucks a lot, you know," she says, as if you would know or would care. "I'm usually there until six o'clock or so. So, like, when you guys got out of basketball practice, we could all meet there sometime." She sounds out of breath when she says this, and avoids looking in your face as she tucks her hair behind her ear.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is she coming on to me?</i> you wonder. "Maybe," you allow. "Not today, I've got things I have to do. But maybe tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
Then she ruins it for you: "And, you know, for Chelsea they've got lots of low-fat, low-calorie stuff. That's what I drink."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Fifth period is a Psychology class. Briefly you entertain yourself by wondering if Gordon has found his own malformed psyche -- or his father's -- described in the textbook. But nothing else in the class period holds your interest, and you spend your time doodling and thinking about the switchback you and Gordon will do next period. <br/>
<br/>
You decide to give Black a taste of his own medicine -- you can excuse it to him by saying you've got his image to keep up -- by bearing down on "Will Prescott" at his locker immediately after the fifth period bell has rung. He sees you coming, and the glint in his eye suggests he doesn't anticipate what comes next: You grab him about the neck in the crook of your arm and haul him into the boiling crowd. He twitches and writhes, but he can't break away from you. The smaller students in the hall bounce off you like ice off the prow of an ice breaker, and the larger students steer clear before you reach them.<br/>
<br/>
"Who wants a beating?" you yell as you pull your victim into the F wing boys' room. You're deeply conscious that it's not nearly as scary sounding as what Gordon announced himself this morning, but you're not used to issuing inventive threats. Luckily, you've got Gordon's face and reputation on your side, and the room rapidly clears.<br/>
<br/>
Will Prescott is very red in the face when you release him, and he glares at you. "I said we were going to <i>meet</i> here," he snarls.<br/>
<br/>
"And we did. I just picked you up for our date."<br/>
<br/>
He shows his teeth. "Let's just switch." He pulls off his cap and shirt.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Be back at the school by five," Gordon tells you when you're awake again and pulling on your original clothes. At his suggestion, you'll keep to your real personas for the rest of the school day. "I'll call you if I need to meet you somewhere that's not the parking lot, but keep yourself scarce until you hear from me."<br/>
<br/>
"You ashamed to be seen with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just don't wanna have to explain why you still got a face after I grabbed you at your locker ten minutes ago. People mostly don't when I do that."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow the obvious query: Why does he pull that kind of shit?<br/>
<br/>
"Anything I need to know before we head out?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea's still pissed at you. I got mad and went and ate at a table with some other people, spent lunch talking to Olivia Byrne." You can't help flinching. "Is that okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"For me? No. For you?" He shrugs. "I guess you don't wanna fuck my girlfriend." He raises up very tall and gives you a cold look down from a very high place. "It's your loss."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Oh, I'm also supposed to mow the lawn when I get back from school."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you told me already." You gasp as he grasps you by the belt and hauls you onto your tiptoes. "You need an excuse for being late for class? 'Cos if I wet your hair in the toilet, maybe you won't get a tardy slip."<br/>
<br/>
You beg off the favor.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb is lurking near Mr. Kowalski's classroom, and he looks very jumpy. "Will?" he says quietly as you draw up.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
He hops between feet. "I mean ... Will, is that you, or is it -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's <i>me,</i> Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't look happy, but accepts your self-identification. "Can you hang out this period? We should talk."</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Remains of an Afternoon
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Not now," you tell Caleb, and try to get past him. You're in your skin because you've got Calculus this period and want to take your own notes.<br/>
<br/>
"What about after school? While Gordon's practicing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I have errands to run."<br/>
<br/>
His expression has been wary all this time, and now it hardens. "Yeah, all right," he says. "I just wanted to talk about how the day was going." His tone is prim.<br/>
<br/>
"Great, we'll have time for that later. I gotta get to class." He's been blocking you from the door, and you have to brush past him to grab the handle.<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Kowalski gives you a very level look as you come in, but he's not sarcastic the way some of the other teachers are, and he lets you take your seat without giving you any grief.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You look for Caleb after the final bell rings, but he's gone off alone, apparently. Keith shows up at your locker, though, but he's also looking for Caleb. "I haven't seen him since lunch," you tell him gruffly, for you don't want to get dragged into any conversations about stuff that you missed.<br/>
<br/>
He leans against the locker next to yours, arms folded across his chest, and lifts his chin to stare at the passing girls from under hooded eyes. "Yeah," he drawls. "What's the frigging deal with you and Johansson lately? It's like you're taking turns being asshats."<br/>
<br/>
This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. <i>What did Gordon do or say now?</i> More relevant at the moment: <i>What would Gordon do or say now?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I'm sorry, Tilley," you reply with as much acid as you can muster, even while realizing it's not a tone that will match Gordon's. "Was I being an asshat today? I'll bring you some fucking flowers tomorrow to make up for it."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. Maybe Monday <i>I'll</i> be on the rag, since we seem to be taking turns."<br/>
<br/>
You can't stifle a snicker -- the thought of Keith Tilley acting like Gordon Black is <i>hilarious</i> -- and he gives you a dirty look. "Yeah, you arrange to be on the rag tomorrow, Tilley." You pat his shoulder. "And bring your pussy to school with you, so you can go fuck yourself when Caleb or I tell you to."<br/>
<br/>
He flips you off, but you don't mind, because you're congratulating yourself on getting off a Gordon-like insult.<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of Gordon and his talents: You find that this list of supplies he gave you is nicely organized, and it takes you only a few stops to score them. You also didn't need to get any money off anyone, because to your surprise you found a couple of twenties -- more than enough to pay for the supplies -- in your jeans pockets before leaving school. Those bills certainly weren't there this morning. You'll have to ask Gordon where he got them. And it's fortunate that they were there, for the supplies turn out to be at least twice as expensive as you'd expected.<br/>
<br/>
Back at the school after these errands, you squat in the breezeway and watch the gym doors. They burst open a little before five, and the basketball squad comes swaggering out -- loud and proud -- in little groups. Gordon and Patterson, with Jason Lynch in tow, are the last ones out, and they don't spot you as they turn toward the parking lot. Your butt muscles tighten with tension as the minutes pass, and a spasm of relief passes through you when your phone explosively vibrates. It shows Gordon's number. "Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"At the school, just outside the gym."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause, and then a huge silhouette shows at the end of the breezeway. "Okay, come on. We'll change in the locker room."<br/>
<br/>
You scramble to your feet and run down to meet Gordon at the gym doors.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It's funny,</i> you think as you pound up to him. Only a few days ago you'd be running the other way. Even this morning you'd been fearful about meeting him. But now, even though you're nervous, you're not scared. And though you certainly can't bring yourself to think of him as a "friend," he's started to become a familiar presence in your life.<br/>
<br/>
He crosses the gym toward the changing room on long strides, and you have to patter rapidly alongside to keep up. "You get the stuff?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Hey, where'd you get the money? I found a bunch in my pocket -- "<br/>
<br/>
"From your friend Tilley, I figured you'd need a fallback in case you were too chicken shit to ask Lynch."<br/>
<br/>
"How did you -- ? And what was he doing with that kind of cash?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not a fucking news site, Prescott, and I didn't ask where he got it. He was just waving it around at lunch so I took it, told him I had a use for it today and I'd pay him back tomorrow. So you better -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You just <i>took</i> it from him?" The world tilts, and bangs you in the shoulder with a door frame.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon stops to stare at you. His eyes are hard and contemptuous, which is better than being hard and hostile, but still isn't pleasant.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he says impatiently. "You can do that. You can do it to Lynch next time you see him. Which you better, if you wanna pay your friend back. Or, I dunno, don't. Fuck me if I give a shit."<br/>
<br/>
You're in the locker room proper by now, and he drops onto a bench with a heavy grunt. "Man, I hurt. You got a shit body, but I bet it don't hurt." He falls onto his back and sighs. "Alright, I lie, it's not a shit body, there's lots worse in this fuckhole. But gimme your face, man, it's a nice vacation spot."<br/>
<br/>
You've never thought of your life as a "vacation spot", but this doesn't seem the place to argue. Gordon reaches for the mask as you take it out, but on an impulse you bypass him and lay it directly on his face. His features vanish, and his gym clothes -- now resting on a much scrawnier frame -- billow briefly in the air before settling around him.<br/>
<br/>
He looks like a child in those clothes. Thin arms, a shallow chest, bony knees and shanks covered in short blonde hair, feet that fit loosely inside huge sneakers. His mouth hangs open in a noiseless snore, and his shock of hair shoots out in all directions. You tilt your head to look down at him. <i>That's me.</i> It gives you a shiver to see yourself, looking dead, splayed out on the bench. But -- and this isn't pride, just recognition -- Gordon is right that you're not bad looking. <br/>
<br/>
You pull Gordon's mask from his bag, and since you don't want anyone finding Will Prescott and Gordon Black unconscious together in this way, you creep into the showers to make your own change. You undress, sit in a cold corner, and press his mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Where are you going to work on that stuff?" Will Prescott asks you while you're dressing. Unlike the original, the facsimile buttons his shirt from the neck down, but you don't correct him.<br/>
<br/>
"At home, I guess," you reply. You're already in Gordon's sloppy clothes, except for the hat, which you now flap out and settle brim backward on your head.<br/>
<br/>
"Bad idea," he says. "You can't close the bedroom door, remember, and what'll you say when my dad catches you working on it? You better spend the evening up here at the school, in the loft." He sits up to put on his sneakers. "In fact, I already arranged for it, if that's what you want to do. I told Steve and Jason that I wanted it for myself, trying to get things fixed with Chelsea." He grins at you in a way that you're not sure shows anger, amusement, or spite. "Like that's going to happen. Steve-o actually laughed at me when I said that, and I had to knock his head against a locker."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jesus. Does Gordon actually get to knock Steve Patterson around?</i> "So what you're saying is that I'll have it all to myself."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right." He claps you on the arm. "Have fun."<br/>
<br/>
He leaves almost immediately after that, and you are much slower in following. You've not seen the loft yet, and the thrill of excitement runs through you at the thought of exploring it, even if it's just you. Not just exploring it, but sitting in it, and claiming it, because it rightfully belongs to you.<br/>
<br/>
Well, it belongs to Gordon Black, but if you're going to take responsibility for his chores, you might as well lay claim to his rights in compensation.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But the night's responsibilities prove not to be too onerous, either. Gordon said the lawn needed to be "billiard table" smooth, and you spend ninety minutes carefully going over it with the lawnmower and the weed eater, and you kneel to pluck out anything you spot that could mar the surface. Gordon's dad doesn't look very happy when he surveys it -- he looks like he's sucking a lemon -- but he nods when you're done and quietly asks what you want to do about dinner: you'd picked him up something from McDonald's, but not bought anything for yourself, for you needed part of the twenty he gave you to guy supplies. You tell him you're going to meet Chelsea for a Friday night date. He grunts and lets you go.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, of course, you go up to the school. The sun is just below the horizon as you pull up next to the gym, and you have the entire parking lot to yourself. Your heart quickens as you look around. You're about to use a key to go into the gym and step into the Holy of Senior Class Holies.<br/>
<br/>
Then your phone buzzes, and your heart explodes. It's a text from Chelsea: <i>pookie, pls talk?</i></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222
author_id: seuzz
title: Where the Boys Play
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Chelsea wants to talk to her boyfriend. Tonight, right now, that would be you.<br/>
<br/>
You're already excited to be sitting where you are, and this just supercharges it, and an erection swells in your shorts. Your breath comes so quick it leaves you puffing and blowing.<br/>
<br/>
But even though you're excited by Chelsea's invitation, and the chance that it represents, the tremble in your hand tells you it would be a bad idea. You don't know Chelsea, and you don't know what to say to her. If she isn't mad now -- and she probably is furious -- she will be by the time you're done screwing things up with her even more.<br/>
<br/>
So you ignore the message and clamber from Gordon's VW Bug.<br/>
<br/>
But at the door to the gym your phone buzzes again. <i>Pookie pls?</i><br/>
<br/>
It sounds like she isn't mad, but you've already decided you don't want to talk to her.<br/>
<br/>
With one of the keys on Gordon's ring you unbolt the door and step into the gym. It's cavernous and echoes in the fading light, and your nostrils flare at the scent. You lock the door behind you. Your sneakers squeak on the court floor as you trudge across it. You're halfway across when you realize how furtive you are in your attitude. <i>I'm Gordon Fucking Black,</i> you remind yourself, <i>and I fucking own this fucking gym.</i> You put your head up and shoulders back and swagger the rest of the way.<br/>
<br/>
A wooden staircase behind the bleachers takes you up to a landing outside a loft under the rafters near the eastern eaves of the gym. You've never been up here before, but it's not hard to find, and at the top of those stairs is a single door made of scarred plywood. You fiddle a bit with keys until you find one that fits the deadbolt set high in the door. It slides open with a satisfying <i>clunk</i>, and the door creaks open.<br/>
<br/>
It's already dark inside the loft, and you fumble your fingers along the wall until you find a switch. The dusk flees from a harsh, buzzing fluorescent light.<br/>
<br/>
The loft is more like a junk yard. The roof is very low -- with Gordon's height you can palm the metal slats overhead, and the space is filled with large wooden crates and gymnastics equipment that looks dingy and disused. You have to navigate a small labyrinth through these in order to reach an open space around a wooden support pillar. Here is a kind of nest for teenage boys. A couple of torn and faded gym mats are spread out on the ground next to an open cardboard box and a dorm-sized refrigerator. There's also a plastic trash bag that stinks of beer and old pizza. You pad around these, looking for further nooks and goodies. Along the back wall is a row of cabinets, but these only hold shelves that are either empty or stacked deep with old textbooks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>No, hang on, in one of the cabinets are some liquor bottles: whiskey, tequila, rum, and vodka.</i> You unscrew one for a sniff -- potent! -- but don't sample any. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Beer and pizza.</i> If there's hard liquor in the cabinet, then in the refrigerator -- Yes! Seven full six-packs of beer and part of an eighth! It's a cheap brew, but you grin as you take one out and crack it open. It tastes good, better than you remember beer tasting, and the more you pour down your throat the more you want to pour down it. Only when you've got your head back do you realize you are chugging it, and then you have to go all the way. When the last trickle has run out the can and into your mouth, you fling the can away and let rip a mighty belch. It feels really good.<br/>
<br/>
Another buzz from the phone. <i>pPs i want to talk!</i><br/>
<br/>
This is getting ridiculous, but it's also fun to think of Chelsea begging you. More fun to think of rejecting her. You text back a brusque <i>No.</i> And when she comes back with <i>Pookie pls!</i> you fire back with <i>Busy stop it.</i> That brings peace, for after fifteen minutes she hasn't replied.<br/>
<br/>
You drop onto the gym mats with your back to that pillar -- a pose that Gordon and his friends probably take all the time -- and try to get used to the feeling that this is where you belong, that this is a place that is yours. It does feel natural, as you clap one hand around a muscular knee, and the other hand onto a meaty bicep. You relax. <i>Yeah, this is nice.</i> You notice that everything is within reach of this spot, including that cardboard box. You dip a hand into it, and your fingers touch paper. A magazine. You pull it out. Porn. Old porn, too. It's more than ten years old. You lean over to dig through the rest of the box. All the magazines are old, tattered, and worn, with very old publication dates. It must be part of the traditional hand-me-downs, going way, way back. You flip through them, wondering why the guys are spending time with this instead of internet porn. <i>Well, nothing wrong with old porn,</i> you decide after a couple of pictures have arrested your eye and stirred your cock.<br/>
<br/>
But you toss it away. You've got a project to do, and you want to get it done since you're not sure you want to spend another night in Gordon Black's form.<br/>
<br/>
So you set up a small work space on one of the crates, propping open the book and setting out the supplies you bought. There's not a lot of prep work, and the spell starts out easy. Not until you hit the last step, which involves carving some runes into the metal, does it turn difficult. It's fairly exacting work that is not made any more fun by having to stand hunched over a crate while you work.<br/>
<br/>
In the back of your mind you idly speculate about what these things will be used for. The masks already seem to be pretty perfect at copying bodies, so what other kinds of "disguises" will the book be teaching you to make? Maybe there will be spells for copying memories, for that's one place where the masks are pretty damn deficient. Skills and talents, too, like Gordon's ability to drop a basketball through a small hoop from halfway across a court. Why, if you could copy those aspects of him, you could pull off a perfect imitation! And with a copy of your brain, he could pull off a perf-- <br/>
<br/>
<i>Mm.</i> Yeah, there's the problem. Would you want him poking around your head, learning what all your secrets are, what kinds of dirty little things you get up to in your fantasies, and how you act out when the fantasies get to be too intense?<br/>
<br/>
Do you want to know what Gordon's fantasies are?<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, you've got the tooltip off the metal when you shiver, or else you might have slashed a deep cut across the strip.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
An hour passes. There are a lot of runes to carve, and you have to carefully cut them and wear them into the surface. When you are done, you lay the strip onto the book and press it down so the book will know you've finished. But when you try to turn the page, nothing happens.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hm.</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, there will be time to experiment later at home, you decide, and start on a second metal band. You haven't worked long, though, before you raise your head at a sound -- creaking wood. The walls settling? Something moving inside the crates?<br/>
<br/>
No! It's footsteps on the stairs. You sweep the book closed and get everything shoved inside one of the cabinets just as there's a faint knock at the door. God, you hope it's not Lynch or Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
No, it's worse, in a way. The door opens and Chelsea Cooper peeks inside. "Pookie?" she says in a quiet, pouty voice.<br/>
<br/>
Her blue eyes are very big, and her blonde curls are limp, and her kewpie lips are pulled downward. She looks like a doll that has come to life and had its heart broken. She blinks heavily and rapidly as she pushes open the door and stares at you from the door frame. "Can I come in?"<br/>
<br/>
You would like to say <i>Yes.</i> You would like to sweep her up -- she looks so vulnerable, and has clearly made herself look intentionally pathetic -- and crush her to your chest. But you strive to keep command of your emotions. "I told you, I'm busy."<br/>
<br/>
"Doing what?"<br/>
<br/>
"None of your business." If she's going to be mad at you, give her a good reason to be mad at you.<br/>
<br/>
It's like you flipped a switch: Her eyes instantly turn puffy and red, and she gasps and sniffs hard. "Gordon," she says in a barely audible squeak, then wheels around and covers her face with her hands. Her shoulders shake.<br/>
<br/>
For a long minute she holds this pose, and you let her hold it. When she turns to give you an agonized look over her shoulder, her complexion is blotched and her nose red. "Gordon," she says again, now in a husky voice. "I'm so -- sorry -- " She hiccups. "Can we -- <i>please</i> -- make up?"</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222
author_id: seuzz
title: A Girl Who Can Rout Two Guys
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>This feels like a very dangerous moment, and the worst kind of moment for you. This isn't just a case of Chelsea being mad at you. If you push her away too hard, you might accidentally break her and Gordon up. But if you try making things right with her, you'll have to deal with her fragile emotions and you might get stuck making love to her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Wow, wouldn't </i>that<i> be tragic?</i><br/>
<br/>
Seriously, though, you're pretty sure that Gordon is okay with you doing the replacement thing only because he thinks there's no chance you and Chelsea will get in any kind of a clinch. If you violate that trust -- Well, you're pretty sure Gordon could beat the shit out of you even if you were inside his mask.<br/>
<br/>
So you have to temporize. Get her out of here, and get Gordon back inside his life at least long enough that <i>he</i> can decide what to do. So --<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't a good time," you say.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's face twists up. "What are you doing? Why can't we -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow," you tell her. "We'll talk tomorrow. I've got a lot of thinking to do."<br/>
<br/>
She hiccups again, and her face turns very gray. "Thinking about what?" she asks in a small voice.<br/>
<br/>
"About us." Your palms are sweaty, and you wipe them on the sides of your shorts. "The last couple of days have been tough."<br/>
<br/>
She nods vigorously. "I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have -- "<br/>
<br/>
She puts out her arms, and for a moment it looks like she's going to rush at you and embrace you. But she catches herself, and agony shows in her eyes as she stares up at you. You realize that she caught you stiffening against the onrush.<br/>
<br/>
"I just have to think," you say again, and swallow to clear a throat that has gotten very tight with fear, desire and confusion. "I'm not sure what I -- " You swallow again. "What I want."<br/>
<br/>
Oh, you know what you want. You want to squeeze this soft creature to yourself and bury your face in her hair. You want to pull her to the floor and undress her and touch her all over. That's enough for the fantasy. You don't have to think farther than that. If you could do those things, the sequel, you feel, would take care of itself.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea visibly wilts. She half turns and grasps the door frame and puts her face against it. "I don't deserve you, Gordon," she says, and the tears stream down her cheeks. "I'm so mean to you. You've got so much shit in your life and I make it worse. I'm so sorry." She swallows. "I promise I will make it up to you. I'll change. Just -- " She looks up at you. "Give me a chance to show that I can."<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow." It's all you can say. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
Her face twists up, and with a long series of snuffles she goes out the door and back down the stairs. You wait until you can't hear her footsteps any longer before closing and locking the door.<br/>
<br/>
Then you collapse.<br/>
<br/>
You are shaking all over, and pull your trembling knees under your chin. How can one body -- even one as massive as Gordon's -- hold so much terror and so much desire at the same time?<br/>
<br/>
It's several minutes before you're able to move, and then you only move so far as to open a cabinet and take a pull from the whiskey bottle. It burns going down your throat as a liquid, and it burns going up the back of your nose as a vapor, and you shudder at it. But it's enough -- if not to calm you, at least to settle your shakes.<br/>
<br/>
You pull the grimoire and the project material back from the cabinet and return to work. At first you think that you won't be able to concentrate on it, for your mind races, and you don't quite trust your fingers. But it actually has a calming effect, for it takes just enough skill to occupy your mind and hands without demanding all your attention. It calms you to the point that you decide -- after a lot of temporizing -- that you don't need to call Gordon and spill out in a panicked way about Chelsea's visit to the loft.<br/>
<br/>
And when you're done you take the book and the material back home with you. Gordon's dad is slumped in a chair in front of the TV. He gives you a very steady look as you come in, but you give him a steady look back and he says nothing. You go to the bedroom and shut the door. You hear nothing more from him that night, and are able to finish a third band before going to bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's Saturday, but you forgot to turn off the alarm and so you wake very early. The house is quiet, even after you've showered and tidied the bathroom, and since you don't want to see Gordon's dad, you leave the house. You drive around for a bit, and you think about going back up to the school and the loft. But instead you call Caleb at his house and Gordon at yours. To Caleb you are gruff and demanding; to Gordon you are more cordial. But the message is the same: <i>Let's meet at the old school basement at eight.</i> To take the edge off the early hour, you pick up three coffees and a dozen donuts with some of the money you scrounged from Gordon's bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
Both of your friends -- and it's easier to think of Gordon as a friend when he's looking like you -- look like they just rolled out of bed, and neither one is very placated by the breakfast you bought. "So what's the excitement?" Caleb asks around a mouthful of a chocolate donut. "Or did you just need to get out of the house?"<br/>
<br/>
"Partly that," you reply. "But partly it's because I finished these." You scatter the three metal bands on a dusty table. "Well, not <i>finished</i>, 'cos I can't figure out how to finish them. But I did everything the book said to do."<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think they're not finished?" says your doppelganger.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I can't get the next page in the book to unlock. Remember, I explained that? The page won't turn until you complete the spell, and even after making these -- " You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"Are these runes?" Caleb says as he picks up one of the bands. "Any idea what they say?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope. Hard to do a Google search in another alphabet."<br/>
<br/>
"Are they a wrist band?" Caleb says. "Or maybe they go on the face, like the masks do." He puts it to his cheek.<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think you're even supposed to wear them?" says Prescott impatiently, but then he jumps up as Caleb slides unconscious to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
You and Will exchanged startled glances, then huddle around Caleb. That band seems to have vanished -- it's nowhere on the floor next to him -- and he is as limp and glassy-eyed as when putting on a mask. "Maybe he figured out how the dingus is supposed to work," you lamely observe.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe," says Prescott. He slaps Caleb on the side of the face, and you wince at the blow. "But if he doesn't wake up in the next ten minutes -- " He turns a piercing look on you. "And you didn't play around with these things before?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Uh, as long Caleb's out," you add quietly, "I got some news to share about Chelsea." Quickly you describe her behavior last night, all the way down to the crying and the promise to "change." Gordon's hair is standing on end by the time you're done -- but then, since it's your hair, it was standing on end even before you started talking. But let's just say he looks shocked and even a little aghast. <br/>
<br/>
"That's -- Whoa," is about all he can get out. He rubs his mouth with his hand. "You did good, Prescott," he says at last. "I've never -- Well, there was one time, a long time ago, when she broke down that far. I was real close to breaking up with her." He swallows. "I just stopped talking to her, and she came around and begged me to give her another chance." <br/>
<br/>
You can't think of anything to say, so you say nothing. You jump, though, when he swings around violently to kick a desk.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck! Fuck!" He grabs the edge of the desk and kicks it again. "I can't ever -- ! She always gets her fucking way with me!" He grabs at the open air, as though there are curtains he wants to rend and pull down. "I'm always the first to give in," he concludes lamely while turning a deep shade of red. You still don't say anything, until after he's raised his head and asked, "Can we switch back around today, so I can get with her?"<br/>
<br/>
What a question! Only when you exhale do realize you'd been holding your breath. "I was going to ask you to! I don't know how to handle her!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like I have a fucking clue either." He pauses. "How are things with my dad?"<br/>
<br/>
You instantly tense again. "Well, there it's a little -- "<br/>
<br/>
You're saved from having to finish by something moving in the corner of your eye. It's Caleb -- or, rather, it's a movement <i>on</i> him. That metal band has reappeared, and is resting on his forehead. But he doesn't wake.<br/>
<br/>
You lean forward and carefully pluck up the band. The runes are still there, but something has been added. Caleb's name, in bold, blue letters floats over its surface.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"To know the mind of another," Caleb says after you've turned the page in the book and translated what's written on the other side. His eyes are wide. "Sounds like it copies someone's brain."<br/>
<br/>
There's a silence before he speaks again. "Are we actually going to use these on each other?" he asks.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221
author_id: seuzz
title: Getting to Know You ...
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb holds the metal band in the palm of his hand as though it is a coiled snake. In fiery blue letters,  his name floats above its surface.<br/>
<br/>
It looks like you were right in your speculations last night: the book has now taught you a technique to copy people's minds. If you put that band on, the way you put a mask on, you are pretty sure you would have all of Caleb's memories, and maybe more. Could you stand shattering his privacy that way? Could you stand to have your own privacy shattered that way?<br/>
<br/>
But you're silent when Caleb asks, in a horrified voice, "Are we really going to use these things on each other?" And in that silence Gordon speaks.<br/>
<br/>
 "You don't have to," he says, and his tone is dangerous -- or as dangerous as he can get Will Prescott to sound. "Not if you don't want to. But we're going to keep switching faces around. If you think you can keep pretending to be me without one of those things to help you -- " He chucks his chin at the thing Caleb is holding. "Go ahead, see how you do. If you fuck up, you're stuck with what happens." Then he turns to you. "What about you, Prescott? Want me to keep playing you this way?"<br/>
<br/>
You flush, but see his point. If Keith Tilley -- who's not your idea of a sharp knife -- has been picking up on your personality change, what have your parents been noticing?<br/>
<br/>
"I'll make one for me, and you can use it," you croak.<br/>
<br/>
You can't help noticing the way Gordon pauses before he replies. "Then I'll make one for you too." He turns to Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
But Johansson explodes before anyone can say anything to him. "Are you crazy? We don't even know if we can use these things at the same time as the masks!"<br/>
<br/>
"So we'll figure out if we can," Gordon retorts. "Let's check out the next spell, maybe that'll say something." He grabs up the book. Caleb goes to snatch it from him, and Gordon punches him in the throat. "Chill the fuck out, Johansson," your doppelganger says coldly. "What's your problem, you don't want us finding out you fantasize about little boys when you jack off? The fuck've you got in your head you're so ashamed to share?" Caleb turns almost black. "I just said I'll share my shit with you guys. We should all share, so it's equal."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb chokes, and when you try putting a hand on him, he jerks away. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm not ashamed of anything," he says hotly. He looks between you and Gordon. "I'd share my shit with a <i>friend,</i>" he says. "Let's put it that way. I'd share it with a friend!"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon looks at him coolly, and looks at you, and looks back at Caleb. You shiver at his next words, because he's got your face and voice as he says them: "You mean we're not all friends?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb swallows. <br/>
<br/>
So do you. "It's a little weird for us, man," you tell Gordon, and the absurdity is palpable since it would look like a very scared Gordon Black is trying to placate a very menacing Will Prescott. "You know, you never paid any attention to us before, except when -- " You shrug awkwardly.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon is very stiff, and only with his eyes does he look between you and Caleb. "Yeah, I guess I understand," he says. He looks back down at the book. "But fuck it. Let's see what the next spell says."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb gives you a haggard look, and you can only stare helplessly back at him. He is obviously trying to suggest something silently, but you can't figure out what that is before he gives up in palpable disgust and stalks from the basement. You listen for the sound of a car engine, but hear nothing, so you assume he's taking a walk to cool off. You sink back against a desk, and stare at your feet.<br/>
<br/>
"I think we've got everything here," Gordon says after a few minutes. "I'm going to try making it." You don't ask him what "it" looks like it will be, and you don't offer to help as he pulls out chemicals and mixes them. Mostly it's because you don't know what to say to him, but partly it's because you don't want to disturb his concentration.<br/>
<br/>
But after he's set the mixture on the sigil and set it on fire, and used the result to has turn the page to the next spell, you ask a very quiet question. "Are you <i>our</i> friend, Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"This is perfect," he says nonchalantly as he looks between the page and the translation he's working on with the phone. "It's like a glue. You glue those metal things into a mask, and then you can copy everything all at once."<br/>
<br/>
"That's really convenient," you allow. "But would you answer my question? You asked if we're all friends. Do <i>you</i> think we're friends? Are you <i>my</i> friend?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what a 'friend' is," he says, and still has his back to you. "I got people I hang out with. Lynch. Patterson." He pauses. "I guess Steve-o's a friend."<br/>
<br/>
"But not us? Not me?"<br/>
<br/>
Now he turns to look at you. His expression is hooded. "You did me a nice favor with Chelsea," he says. "I won't forget it."<br/>
<br/>
That sounds like all you're going to get from him. "Come on, let's get changed," he says. "I want to see Chelsea, and it's been awhile since you've been home."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's gone when you wake up, and when you look out the window you see that Caleb's car is gone as well. You lay back on the desk where you'd stretched out and try to blink yourself more awake. You've got a pit in your stomach. The future doesn't look dark, exactly, but you've got the sinking sense that you're fumbling around in the dark, and that the farther you go, the more booby traps there are at your feet. <br/>
<br/>
But after a few minutes of lying there, during which no coherent thoughts will form, you get up. You've got a life to resume, and after dressing you return to a house you've not seen in a couple of days.<br/>
<br/>
Your parents haven't noticed your absence, though, and you're pissed to discover that Gordon hadn't warned you about the chores your dad had planned for you. You help with the yard and the gutters and the dusting, and you run an errand to the grocery store for your mom. You'd take some small measure of satisfaction in the fact that your brother has also been dragooned, but he treats you very blackly, with dark looks and muttered imprecations, and flinches when you get too close to him. You soon decide that Gordon must have put the fear of something awful into him, and it makes you feel guilty, and then it makes you feel angry for feeling guilty about something you didn't do.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon texts at around two o'clock, asking if you can meet him at the school; you have to tell him you're still busy and will text back when you're ready. <i>Bring your doofucky</i> he replies, and you make a face. You're going to get the worst of both today, it appears: chores for your family, and a face full of Gordon Black's life when you're done with that.<br/>
<br/>
But at least -- maybe -- you'll have the memory of his afternoon with Chelsea. You hope it was a good one.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, hell, you hope it was a good seven or eight or ten good ones.<br/>
<br/>
You're not done with chores until three-thirty, and even then you shower before heading out. While in the bathroom, you put one of the blank metal bands to your forehead, and sink into a brief oblivion.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Does that seem solid to you?" Gordon asks as he turns his mask toward you. A metal band with his name -- GORDON GERALD BLACK -- is attached to its interior. "Let's take care of yours now."<br/>
<br/>
It's four-thirty, and you're in the gym loft with Gordon. He seems cheerful -- or more cheerful than you've seen him yet -- so you are now more than cautiously optimistic about having a nice set of afternoon memories when you're inside his mask. "Let me try," you say as he sets your mask and "doofucky" on top of one of the crates. It doesn't take any skill, you discover, you dab a line of glue onto the inside of the mask and set the band there. It bonds instantly.<br/>
<br/>
"So, I guess it's total disguises from here on out," you say, a little nervously you'd admit.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so." Gordon sounds much calmer. "Get your clothes off."<br/>
<br/>
You pull off your shoes, but he just watches. "What about your clothes?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm wearing them downstairs, I'll change in your truck. You can get into my locker to get you some shit to wear home."<br/>
<br/>
"Why? I mean, why change in my truck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I figure it's gonna start being weird looking at each other, and I wanna put that off until Monday, at least. Don't call me before then, alright?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can I call Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why the fuck are you asking me permission? And why have you stopped undressing?"<br/>
<br/>
Good questions both, which you don't have answers to them. You finish stripping. Gordon takes your things and turns to go.<br/>
<br/>
But at the door, he pauses long enough to give you a very long wink.<br/>
<br/>
Your legs almost buckle. That wink was like a promise and an expression of gratitude both.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Are we friends?</i> you'd asked Gordon earlier. In that wink, you almost feel like he was trying to say <i>Yes. Yes we are.</i></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211
author_id: seuzz
title: ... Getting to Know ALL About You
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your anticipation -- and, to be truthful, trepidation -- about what you'll find inside Gordon's memories keeps you from jamming his mask onto your face right away. You take several deep breaths to calm yourself, without real success. You decide to wait until you're sure that Gordon is out of the gym, and then you decide to wait another minute. <br/>
<br/>
The wait quickly becomes unbearable. But instead of getting the transformation over with, you scamper (naked!) down the stairs to the boys' locker room. Gordon said you'd have to get into his locker to find a set of his clothes to wear home, so this is another way of delaying things: You'll make the change down there.<br/>
<br/>
It's a nasty room and it hasn't changed from your sophomore year when you broke down and took a P.E. class. The floors and walls are cold, hard cement, and metal girders crisscross the ceiling. Wooden benches sit between the lockers. It's dark and just a little bit spooky, but that's probably just the bad memories, for you expect at any moment that The Molester or Patterson or Gary Chen or some other asshole will come around the corner, taunt you for the cupcake you are, and push you face first into a locker. So you make a recon first to make sure the place is empty.<br/>
<br/>
It is, and then you have to decide where to make the change. The locker room seems too open, so you move into the showers, where you changed yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
It's come to the point, then. You sink down into a corner, draw your knees up close, and contemplate the name floating on the inside of the mask. Then you close your eyes and put your face into it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
With your transformations over the last week -- into Caleb's mask, and in and out of Gordon's -- you've gotten used to the feeling that comes over you when entering a mask: the sense of a weight settling onto your face and your limbs, pressing down upon you and into you, and enveloping you in an embrace so crushing it obliterates consciousness.<br/>
<br/>
It's like that now, but something has been added. A dream, it feels like, or the impression of one. You hang suspended somewhere, neither awake nor asleep, knowing neither which way is up nor which way is down. You hardly feel conscious of yourself, except for the bare impression of existence. How long this lasts, you're not sure, for you've no sense of passing time either. Maybe you only become aware of this state when it ends.<br/>
<br/>
And it ends when <i>he</i> comes.<br/>
<br/>
He's a presence, and he takes you from behind. A mental shudder runs through you, and you quiver with both loathing and excitement as his presence deepens. It invades you, and entwines you, and it pulls you apart, like a vine pulling at a crumbling wall. But you don't feel yourself shatter. Instead, you grasp and pull the tendrils tightly about you, and into you, and then you are yourself and the tendrils both, clasping and enclosing yourself. <br/>
<br/>
And as you claim the new presence as your own, you open your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
So this is what the world looks like when your name is Gordon Gerald Black. You grind an eye with the heel of your hand, and grunt.<br/>
<br/>
You feel him inside you, and you only have to shift your brain a little -- like flicking between one mental lens and another -- and then it's not <i>him</i> inside <i>you</i> but <i>you</i> inside <i>him.</i> Somehow this does not come as any surprise. You are very calm, for Gordon Black is quite used to feeling like Gordon Black; and if you feel like you're Gordon Black -- and you do -- then of course you're going to be used to feeling like Gordon Black. You stretch out your legs -- those long, brawny things -- and blink a couple of times.<br/>
<br/>
<i>What am I doing down here?</i> you ask yourself, though you know the answer. <i>I came down to change into Gordon's mask, and now here I am in Gordon's mask. Before that I was up in the loft talking with -- </i><br/>
<br/>
You are briefly dizzy as you remember a conversation from both its sides: you looking up at Gordon as he tells you to undress because he's going to change down in your truck, and you looking down at Prescott while ordering him to undress because you're going to change in his truck. Your brow furrows as you idly wonder if he's having the exact same experience out there.<br/>
<br/>
And before that -- <br/>
<br/>
<i>Whoa!</i> You put your head back and let the erection come.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea was molten, and fucking her was like bathing in a volcano. She showed up in a halter top and cutoffs -- a combo guaranteed to stir up your lusts -- and you quickly got through the apologies and the pledges to keep together and try to work things out. It was amazing how broken up she seemed, and she cried gently into your chest after you said you'd thought about things and decided to stay with her. Then you got your hands under her top, and she moaned as you pulled down her cutoffs and hooked your forefinger into the front of her panties. You pushed her head to the side and kissed the side of her neck while she pulled your own shorts down. Tops came off, and you held her as you eased back onto the mats. For a long time you nursed the banked throbbing in your cock as you kissed and stroked her, and as she kissed and stroked you. Then she broke the condoms out and slid one onto your shaft and mounted you. You worked it into her as she squeaked and gasped, and when you were firmly anchored -- and she was boiling around you -- you started a regular thrust and release. It wasn't long -- she was so hot and tight around you -- before you geysered into her, and kept it going until her voice cracked and she shrieked too. Then you held each other, and nuzzled and made little meaningless noises while rubbing lips against each other.<br/>
<br/>
That was the first time. There was a second time, after you'd unclenched and lay side by side to talk softly while holding each other. Your girlfriend is psychotically high maintenance, but when she puts out it's a rocket trip to ecstasy. <br/>
<br/>
You bet you can get at least one more great lay out of her before she reverts to type.<br/>
<br/>
With another deep grunt you get to your feet, swaying a little from a head rush as you achieve maximum altitude, and your cock guides you like a dowsing rod to the locker where you keep a spare change of clothes. When your fingers touch the combination lock you get a nice sense of bifurcation -- <i>I'm getting into Gordon Black's locker because I know the combination, and I know the combination because I'm Gordon Black!</i> -- and then you're twirling it expertly to the requisite numbers. The door opens with a clang and you haul out the bag with the clothes.<br/>
<br/>
For once it's not a t-shirt and shorts, but a pair of blue jeans, a checkered short-sleeve shirt, and dark socks and loafers. This is what Gordon wears when he's trying to dress up, but it's all you've got to see you home.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Home.</i> The word is like a punch to the gut.<br/>
<br/>
All the times your dad has hit you, slapped you, and knocked you around; all the times he's grabbed you, yelled at you, hissed and seethed at you; all the times he's belittled, besmirched and insulted you; all these come rushing back. You grab onto the locker door and put your forehead against it. You know how wrong it is to hate your father -- he's told you <i>that</i> often enough too -- but you can't help it. Your heart swells and cracks.<br/>
<br/>
But then, through the gloom, shoots a ray of light -- a memory of Thursday, the day that you grabbed the switch from him, broke it, and stared him down. But that wasn't you, it was Prescott who did that. (Of course, you're Prescott too.) You've never done that. You've never had the gall or the balls.<br/>
<br/>
But your dad backed down. He actually backed down. You grip the edge of the locker door until you think the skin is going to break and your fingers are going to bleed.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The son of a bitch actually looked like he was afraid of you.</i><br/>
<br/>
You gulp hard and stumble back a step, knocking against a bench. You drop down hard and put your head between your knees, for you feel like you're going to hyperventilate. <i>He backed down, and he hasn't gotten in your face since. Prescott even shut the bedroom door on him.</i><br/>
<br/>
You punch the bench with your fist.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon is terrified of his dad, but he's not your dad. You stood up to his dad, and you survived. It should be easy to keep doing that. As long as you don't let Gordon's cowering fear of his father overwhelm you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Just remember: I'm not really Gordon Black.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fucking hard to do, though, when you're six-foot-five, dressed in his clothes, and have the memory of fucking his girl twice in one day. You stand up, roll your shoulders, and grimace.<br/>
<br/>
There's a basketball in the corner. You pause to regard it, then scoop it up. You give it a test bounce. It goes exactly where you want it to go. And that's with your left hand, your bad hand.<br/>
<br/>
You dribble it out onto the court, to the free throw line. You bounce it a few times, to get the feel of it. Then you sink it with a satisfying swish.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, I can do this.</i></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111
author_id: seuzz
title: An Inside View
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Even if you can face Gordon's dad -- and you're pretty sure you can -- you don't have any desire to do so yet. So when you're back up in the loft and have opened a beer, you dial Steve Patterson. "Yeah, you okay?" he says instantly on picking up.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart catches briefly in you're throat. It hits you that you're about to try snowing Gordon's best friend.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you squeak. But your voice firms as you continue. "Why wouldn't I be?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. You just told me this morning you were gonna see Chelsea, clear the air."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we're okay. We made up. Made out. You know." You drum nervous fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"Great," Patterson says with patent insincerity. "So why are you calling me?"<br/>
<br/>
"To brag about it, fucker, why else?" You swallow a great gulp of alcohol. It seems to lubricate your instincts. "We're done for today, though, I'm lookin' for something to do. What are your plans?"<br/>
<br/>
"You done with the loft? 'Cos I got plans up there."<br/>
<br/>
"You're shitting me. Why didn't you say something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't wanna get in your way. I guess I can thank Chelsea, 'cos Kendra called me last night, said she was aching for my cock."<br/>
<br/>
You wish this surprised you, but Gordon knows better. "Christ. You better fucking hope I never break up with Chelsea, or all this free pussy she shoves your way is gonna dry up."<br/>
<br/>
He grunts. "Whatever you were doing to her last week, keep doing it, 'cos it worked solid on her." He warms to an evergreen subject. "She gets in your head, man, I've told you I don't know how many times -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so why don't you shut your fucking mouth about it?"<br/>
<br/>
" -- but this time you got in hers." He laughs. "It's like you played her fucking game against her, and look what it got you. It got you something good, didn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Four times -- " <br/>
<br/>
"Liar."<br/>
<br/>
" -- and so hard I had to carry her out to the car 'cos she couldn't walk. Did you just call me a liar?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah I did."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be over at your place tomorrow afternoon to tattoo the inside of your ass with my -- " The rest of your threat is lost in his hoarse laugh. "Then I'll see you here tomorrow at one, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Probably spend the night there, banging Kendra."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker." You hang up, and gulp down some cold drafts of air and beer both. <br/>
<br/>
You just passed your first test, convincing Gordon's best friend -- the ur-bully Steve Patterson -- that you were Gordon. And it was easy. Liquid. Intuitive.<br/>
<br/>
But there's no more entertainment on that end, so you call Jason Lynch.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
His eyes light up when he opens the front door to you. "Hey Gordon! Whew!" He brushes the front of your shirt. "You clean up nice. We got a hot date wi'chother or somethin'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't have anything else to put on." You push past him into the living room. "Mr. Lynch," you say deferentially to Jason's dad.<br/>
<br/>
"Howdy, Gordon," he cheerfully replies. "How's your pa?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's fine, sir, same as always."<br/>
<br/>
"Give him my regards. And how's the team?"<br/>
<br/>
"Going to State, sir. I'll kill and bury the squad in the back nine if we don't."<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Lynch laughs, not knowing that Gordon would be half-serious in issuing that threat.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you up for a movie," Jason says, and pulls at you. "Been a long time since we watched something together."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, you know. Chelsea and everything," you murmur as you follow him down a hallway. Actually, you have the impression that Gordon doesn't like Jason a whole lot. For your part, you despise him.<br/>
<br/>
He's short -- shorter even than you yourself -- but is very strong. He has all the attributes of the all-American high school athlete: sandy hair, blue eyes, a wide grin, and handsome, regular features. He ought to be Mr. Popularity. But he's a maniac and a sociopath known for starting fights just for the giggling fun of it, and for a lacerating tongue. Around Gordon, though, he is oily, obsequious, and flattering.<br/>
<br/>
Like now, for instance: "Stevie told me you were hooking up with her today," he says of your girlfriend, and using the nickname that Patterson hates so much. He sniggers. "You make her beg?"<br/>
<br/>
"We hashed things out." You duck your head as you follow him into his bedroom. It is neat and tidy, as though he was expecting company. But he's always neat and tidy, Gordon has noticed.<br/>
<br/>
"Gotta make her beg, man," Jason says. "You can do it."<br/>
<br/>
The bed bounces as you drop onto it. "She did a lot of crying," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
Jason's jaw drops. "She did?" He throws his head back and howls. "No shit? Man, I wisht I'd been there to see it!"<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna watch us sometime?"<br/>
<br/>
His laughter catches, and he reddens. "No, I didn't mean -- " He punches at you playfully. "I'm just glad t' hear you're -- I mean, that's one thing me and Stevie agree on. You need to take charge of things with her, show her who's -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna do yourself a fucking favor? Stop talking about my girlfriend and how I need to treat her. Cos' if you're not auditioning for the part yourself, it's none of your fucking business."<br/>
<br/>
He turns green, mutters an incoherent apology.<br/>
<br/>
"I came over here to watch a movie, okay? Whaddaya have?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddaya want? Something with titties?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ungh. Something with guns and explosions. And titties," you add with a shrug.<br/>
<br/>
He goes to his bookshelf -- which holds only DVD cases -- and paws through them until he finds a title that meets your criteria. He puts it into the player, turns on the TV, then goes to make popcorn and get some sodas. You settle sideways on the bed with your back to the wall.<br/>
<br/>
As Gordon Black, these are your friends: Chelsea Cooper, Steve Patterson, and Jason Lynch. There is no one else that Gordon regularly hangs out with. And they're all crazy.<br/>
<br/>
Except he's been hanging out more recently with you and Caleb. You cock your head. What does Gordon think of you guys?<br/>
<br/>
You don't get back much of an answer. You remember his meeting Will Prescott and Caleb Johansson at the municipal library on Wednesday night, and the amazement he'd felt at the revelation of the masks and the book that made them. That was the first time Gordon had ever really paid attention to you and Caleb, and his impressions of you are colored by the singularity of that experience. As near as you can tell, he thinks you're goofy, and he's contemptuous of the rabbity way you decline to stand up for yourselves. But it's not like he has any strong opinions of you. Certainly it's not like with Cameron Huber, the football quarterback, whom Gordon loathes for the way he bullied Gordon around in middle school, back when he was a lot smaller than he is now --<br/>
<br/>
These unhappy memories are interrupted by Jason's return, and you turn your attention to the movie, which is some ten-year-old, made-for-TV science-fiction movie with a lot of hard bodies in both the male and female parts. It's good enough for what it is, and what it is is a way to keep your mind idling without getting distracted by anything troublesome.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The movie lasts only ninety minutes or so, and when it's done you're left with only Jason for entertainment. That's not your idea of a grand time, so you beg off spending any more time with him by telling him you need to get home.<br/>
<br/>
Which you would definitely need to do if things were normal. But things are not normal, as you confirm when you get back to Gordon's house.<br/>
<br/>
His dad is watching TV when you come in, and you can't help cringing when he casts a hooded look at you. "Have fun today?" he asks in a tone of voice that usually foretells trouble.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm not Gordon Black,</i> you remind yourself, and you straighten up. "Yeah, I hung out with Chelsea, watched a movie with Jason."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you eat?"<br/>
<br/>
So that's what this is about: You messed up his dinner plans. Gordon would be dying with fear by this point, and his dad sounds like he's trying to re-establish his hold, for he's really ramping up the cold fury in his tone and look.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm not Gordon Black.</i> "No. So I'm gonna fix me some mac and cheese, maybe cut up a few wieners to put in it." You turn your back on him and go into the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
At the sink you fill a pot with water, and from the pantry you pluck a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese; you break it open and chomp on a few hard noodles, like popcorn. When you turn to the refrigerator, to get out the milk, you find Gordon's father standing in the doorway, glowering madly at you. His hair bristles.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon shrivels up, but you stand back on your heel, raise your chin, and stare back evenly at him. He can make it very hard on you -- he's trained in fucking people up. But you've got Gordon's body, and after today you've got Gordon's own experience in fucking people up. <i>Just pretend he's Huber,</i> you tell yourself, and that rouses your inner Gordon from his inner cringe. You begin to game out ways of taking him if he makes a move.<br/>
<br/>
But he doesn't. Without taking his eyes from you, he withdraws back into the living room.<br/>
<br/>
But you're not going to give him the satisfaction of mere retreat. You follow him until you're in the doorway, and you don't take your eyes from him either. When he's back at his chair he finally gives up, and sits to glare at the ESPN anchors.<br/>
<br/>
You take supper in your bedroom -- another forbidden activity -- and shut the door.<br/>
<br/>
As the hours until bedtime pass, you wonder what's going through Gordon's mind. How is he reacting to having your instincts? And if he's got your memories now -- including the memories of facing down his dad the other day -- how is he reacting to them?<br/>
<br/>
You take out your phone and consider calling him.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112
author_id: seuzz
title: Who Goes There?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You decide that no news from Gordon is good news, and to let things ride for now.<br/>
<br/>
As for his dad, his behavior tonight worries you enough that you slide the chest of drawers over to block the door. You don't like the feeling of fear that you've got; and you don't like the message it would send if he tries to get in during the night and finds that you're scared enough to blockade the door. But you figure that's better than waking up at two in the morning with a vicious, SWAT-style raid on your person.<br/>
<br/>
On account of that worry, it takes you awhile to fall asleep. Also, you'd taken out the grimoire and started studying the next spell, and that's got you worried too.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The alarm wakes you early the next morning, and instead of cursing it you quickly get out of bed. You've not been keeping to Gordon's regular schedule, you realize now, of running in the mornings. You move the dresser back into place, slip on your workout clothes, and steal quietly from the house. During the drive up to Westside -- Gordon uses the track there for his running, and the changing rooms for showering -- you try to plan out the day.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's Sunday schedule almost always involves meeting Patterson and Lynch in the loft for an afternoon of drinking, cussing, and horseplay. That won't start until one o'clock, which is about the time that Will Prescott would be released from his own Sunday obligations of church and lunch. You could skip the day with Gordon's friends, but you'd rather keep things normal, at least until you can talk to Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
But Caleb hasn't got Sunday plans, so after a jog that is much longer, much harder and a lot more satisfying than you're used to taking, you shower in the gym and call him to see if you can meet.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Why can't we meet in the fuck room?" Caleb says, and he sounds whinier than usual, probably because you're meeting in the basement at the old Acheson elementary school instead.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I don't want anyone to bust in us up there," you tell him. "You don't want it either. If Patterson or Lynch catch us up there," you continue as he frowns, "I'd have to fold you up and shove you in the refrigerator. It's one of those dorm-sized refrigerators, too, so I'd have to break some of your bones to get you in."<br/>
<br/>
"You couldn't do that," he sneers.<br/>
<br/>
"No?" You stand up and haul him to his feet. "You wanna find out if I could?"<br/>
<br/>
He tries to maintain the sneer, but he also pales, so you drop him. "You heard from Gordon since yesterday? I mean, after we split up? "<br/>
<br/>
"Do you really have his brain and stuff in there with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Memories and everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Because it seems like you're overcompensating."<br/>
<br/>
You relax and let Gordon come to the fore. To your surprise, he doesn't seem to have much to say. "What are you expecting, Johansson? You expecting me to fuck you up just for shits and giggles?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." You grab him again, duck, and pitch him over your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey! Cut it out, Will! What are you doing?" He struggles.<br/>
<br/>
"Looking for a cupboard I can lock you in. You can talk through the door until the air runs out."<br/>
<br/>
"Stop it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Then keep your fucking lip to yourself. Who do you wanna hang out with this morning, me or Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Neither of you, I'm starting to think."<br/>
<br/>
"Well too fucking bad." You turn around, and Caleb yelps as his head hits a bookshelf. "I wanna talk to you, you and Gordon both, and I don't think he's gonna be around for me to talk to until tonight, so until then it's you, me, and fake Gordon." You drop him back on the desk where he'd been sitting. His red-faced glare pisses you off, and you slam the table with your palms. "I said <i>who do you want to talk to?</i> Because if you're gonna talk to Gordon, you're gonna do the talking with your mouth on one of the room and the rest of your face on the other!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb folds up, shielding himself with his hands and blinking behind them. "Jesus, Will," he says in a small voice. "When I said you were overcompensating, I meant -- "<br/>
<br/>
You rein in Gordon. "I'm just showing you I can do it," you say, and clap him on the shoulder. The friendly blow almost knocks him off the desk. "Oh, sorry. Anyway, it's just an act. Except when Gordon's doing it."<br/>
<br/>
The fear doesn't leave Caleb's face, not fully. "So what's it like having him in there with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. It's like -- " You shift from foot to foot as you try to find the words. Then you find the words in your feet. "It's like standing on one foot and then the other." You lean on your right foot. "Like, I can be myself, but I can still remember what Gordon remembers?" You waggle your upraised left foot, then drop and lean on it while raising your right foot. "And then I shift over to be Gordon, but can still remember what I know, who I am." You shift from foot to foot, rapidly. "Gordon. Will. Gordon. Will. Gordon. Will. Except not that fast, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"You do still feel like you're yourself, don't you?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sure. Even when I was yelling at you a minute ago. Except -- " You grimace. "When I'm doing Gordon, I've got his instincts too, I think, because I did kind of want to slap you really hard."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb swallows.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, you should get a chance to try it out. But you didn't tell me, did you hear from Gordon after yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I didn't call him, he didn't call me. I don't know what he did." He shivers. "You sure you want to know what he got up to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why not? What could he do? He's better prepared to pretend to be me than he was a couple of days ago."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess." Caleb turns thoughtful, then a little smile creeps onto his face. "It would be kind of funny watching him pretend to be you. I mean, doing your personality the way you were doing Gordon's."<br/>
<br/>
Frankly, you wonder if Gordon's got it in him to be that kind of actor, even with the mask's help. "Well, that's something to see. But I've got to go up to the school before I can see him, probably, so you two should definitely get together to talk about the next spell. I copied out the ingredients last night. I think I got the translations right, but I hope I fucked them up somewhere." From the gym bag you extract a folded piece of paper and hand it to him.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's brow furrows as he reads it, and he whistles softly. "These are some pretty hardcore chemicals. Real flammable stuff," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I figured that out after some Googling. But check out the last one." You flick the back of the paper with your finger.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's eyes pop. "Dirt from a cemetery?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. What do you think of that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I don't want to get into necromancy!"<br/>
<br/>
You lean back against a desk. "Except the book hasn't said anything about necromancy yet, it's only been about making masks and -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I think the operative word is 'yet', Will," says Caleb. "Doesn't every self-respecting grimoire get into necromancy eventually?"<br/>
<br/>
"Since when are you an expert on grimoires?"<br/>
<br/>
"So what does the book say to do with this dirt?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're supposed to set it on fire, using those chemicals."<br/>
<br/>
His jaw drops. "Now it's getting into rocket science! I mean, literally! <i>Real</i> literally, not that fake 'literally' that people mean when they say 'literally'. This stuff is like booster rocket fuel." His eyes narrow. "How old is this book supposed to be?"<br/>
<br/>
"It hasn't got a copyright date on it," you remind him.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we'd blow something halfway to the moon if we set that stuff on fire."<br/>
<br/>
"So you don't want to try it out?"<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head violently. "It's way too dangerous, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"You've been really down on this stuff lately. You were all into it until -- Well, until we got Gordon mixed up in it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you noticed that, huh? Yeah, I'll plead guilty. I don't want <i>him</i> raising an army of undead shapeshifter things."<br/>
<br/>
You actually feel wounded on Gordon's behalf. "He's not that bad. Trust me, I've seen the other side of -- I mean, you know what his home life is like."<br/>
<br/>
And Caleb laughs, though bitterly. "Yeah, how is the home life?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's something else I wanna talk to Gordon about, so mention that to him when you see him."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to see him."<br/>
<br/>
"And I bet you're not gonna have much of a choice. Betcha on Monday you're gonna have him for Walberg, if nothing else. Anyway, if you <i>don't</i> want him going crazy on your ass or mine, you better start being nice to him, treat him like a friend. If you <i>really</i> want nightmares, try to picture him taking the book up to the school and showing it to Patterson and Lynch."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right." You only intend to agree with Caleb that such would be a Very Bad Thing indeed, but he continues to look stricken, and then you feel stricken too.<br/>
<br/>
For what is to stop him from doing exactly that?<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, Will?" Caleb asks after a ghastly silence. "You say you've got Gordon in there with you. Would he do that?"<br/>
<br/>
It's a tricky question. You've already discovered how hard it can be to consult Gordon's opinion on something or someone when it's not a question of following his instincts. But after a long hesitation, you think you can hazard this much of a guess:</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122
author_id: seuzz
title: Settling In
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I don't think he'd do that." You're very cautious in saying it, though. "At least, I think he would have done it already if he wanted to do something like that."<br/>
<br/>
"So why's he hanging out with <i>us?</i>" Caleb asks, and his face shows skepticism. "Don't tell me he likes <i>us</i> better than his goon squad."<br/>
<br/>
That's even harder to figure out, and you've tried. When you don't answer, Caleb nudges you with his foot. "Come on, big guy. You were bragging earlier how you could do him perfectly."<br/>
<br/>
You flush. "It's a little harder than that. I got his instincts. You ask me to give his fucking opinion, though, and that's harder. It's like I don't know what's my opinion and what's his."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb snorts. "In other words, you're talking out of your ass when you say he wouldn't grab the book and take it off to his friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not a <i>sure</i> thing that he would. That's why we should try to keep things the way they are, don't give him a reason to. Anyway, there's one thing I've noticed," you add as you stand up again, towering over Caleb. "He doesn't treat us any worse than he treats Patterson and Lynch. It's just that they can take it and throw it back at him."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb snorts again. "Then <i>you</i> should be the one in charge of keeping him happy. You sound like you're gay for him."<br/>
<br/>
You're resting on your own foot, so to speak, but your inner Gordon pushes you off balance at Caleb's gibe. You clutch him by the throat and force him backwards, feet scrabbling on the concrete floor, to the wall. "Keep making those cracks, Johansson, and I'll pop your head off."<br/>
<br/>
His feet kick and his voice is a croak. "Yeah, you're a big man."<br/>
<br/>
You drop him. "Have a little fucking sympathy, alright? And if you can't keep from pissing off Gordon, at least have the brains not to piss off <i>me</i>."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's basically the end of your conference, and since you're now tired of Caleb's company it leaves you with nothing to do. <br/>
<br/>
So you drive up to the school again, let yourself into the gym, and work out in a desultory way on the weight deck for awhile. After that, you get the basketball back out and do some solo drills. You're pleased to find that yesterday was not a fluke: your moves are fluid, graceful, and feel entirely natural, and your reflexes seem familiar. You look around the gym and picture tomorrow morning's practice session. It leaves you with a darkened brow.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon is the captain of the squad, and Patterson is his right-hand man, and together they run the team with tyrannical zeal. You will yell and scream and bully and threaten the guys into performing, and you will humiliate them if they don't. They're a good bunch, with some exceptions, but they need drilling and polishing until they achieve the machine-like perfection you want from them.<br/>
<br/>
Then as a body you and they will trample every other team on your way to the state finals.<br/>
<br/>
You're still relaxing with drills -- sprinting up and down the court while pounding the ball -- when the door opens and Patterson comes in. You wheel and hurl the ball at his face. He must have been blinded by the change from daylight to interior light, for he is slow to react, and instead of catching it, he bats it away hard into the bleachers, where it bangs out echo on echo in the gym. "Fuck you!" he yells.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? What happened to Kendra? You weren't here when I came in this morning to run."<br/>
<br/>
"She wouldn't stay for the whole night," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you let her tell you 'no'?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a sour look. "Do you let Chelsea tell you 'no'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kendra's not your girlfriend, you pussy. Get the ball, then go change. Beat me by five, or I'll pack you down to the girls' squad and you can let Almida pussy-whip you too."<br/>
<br/>
He cusses hard, and hurls the ball at your head after he's got it, but you catch it with a grin. Things must not have gone well for your best friend last night.<br/>
<br/>
It's no surprise, really. Kendra Saunders is one of Chelsea's crew -- a cheerleader who clings to the squad captain's skirt and does whatever she is told, and one of the things she is told to do is to pleasure Patterson when Chelsea thinks there is a reason to get on his good side. So it was last night: She wanted to get Patterson to put in a word on her behalf when she feared Gordon was going to break up with her, so she sent Kendra to do some sexual lobbying. You doubt it would have worked: Chelsea and Steve loathe each other, and Patterson has for a long time been quietly urging Gordon to break up with her. But at least he got laid, though not as well laid as he hoped, it sounds like.<br/>
<br/>
He comes out a few minutes later in clothes like yours: athletic shorts and an over-large sleeveless tee -- and the two of you settle into a vicious game of one-on-one. There are no such things as fouls when Gordon and Steve play, and each of you winds up bouncing his ass on the court more than once. It's so intense, in fact, that there's no trash talk, just murderous stares as you try to out-alpha and dominate each other. But point by point you claw ahead of him, for though he's taller than you, you have weight and a deadly accuracy on your side. Finally, after an exhausting duel you hit the ten point advantage that traditionally marks the end of these bouts, and Patterson relents with a snarl. "You're losing it," he says as he pants with his hands on his knees. "You used to win faster than that."<br/>
<br/>
"You saying you're not improving? 'Cos I thought it was from me working you hard at practice."<br/>
<br/>
He shows a smile -- a cold and mirthless thing -- but the on-court rivalry is a thing that begins and ends only on the court. "If I'm that good, get me a beer."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not that good, but I'll get you one anyway. Come on."<br/>
<br/>
You lead him up the stairs to the loft, and he flops onto the mat while you bend next to the refrigerator. You pull out four cans, not two, and set them between you and him as you flop onto the mat alongside him. You are hot and stinky and sweaty, but you'll cool off this way instead of with a shower. You and Steve crack open the cans, wordlessly toast each other, and chug the first beers down thirstily before opening up the second cans to nurse.<br/>
<br/>
"So what the fuck is your problem with Kendra?" you ask. "She bend your cock the wrong way?"<br/>
<br/>
"She only gives blow jobs," Patterson says glumly.<br/>
<br/>
"Aww."<br/>
<br/>
"And only one last night." He falls back with his arm behind his head. "She didn't even take her clothes off, didn't give me a chance to fondle her."<br/>
<br/>
"If I didn't know better, I'd say she doesn't like you."<br/>
<br/>
He turns chilly gray eyes on you. "So you managed to nail your girlfriend," he says. "After a drought of how many weeks? And that gives you the nerve to talk about -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Kendra <i>doesn't</i> like you. You know that."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "She doesn't have to. She just has to wet my cock."<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't <i>you</i> get a girlfriend, see what the rest of us poor assholes have to put up with."<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't <i>you</i> break up with the cunt, grab the kind of pussy I get to play with?"<br/>
<br/>
You lean against the pillar, marveling that you're having this kind of conversation with this alpha jock. "'Cos I just want the pussy, not the drama that goes with scoring."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! Hello!" He pounds you in the side of the leg. "You're getting none of the one and all of the other now! Besides, you can get the pussy without the drama if you're on the market. You've gotten it before."<br/>
<br/>
You shift uncomfortably, for Patterson's alluding to the times Gordon has been unfaithful to Chelsea. "Well, I can't do that now. I've told her we're staying together, and she's promised to change."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit. And you believe her?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"So why keep your promise when she's obviously not going to keep hers?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I figure I can get at least two or three more freebies off her until she stops being scared we're gonna bust up. And then the next time she fucks me around with that attitude of hers, I'll -- "<br/>
<br/>
"No you won't. You chickenshit. You fuckwit. Christ, Gordon, she plays you like a goddamn fiddle."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe this last time I learned how to play <i>her.</i>" You tip back some beer.<br/>
<br/>
"No you didn't. No guy ever got the better of the girl, not after he started going steady with her. Which is a shitbrained thing to do, so it's no wonder a cunt can make rings around a guy dumb enough to settle. And Chelsea's scary good at it, even for a dumb bint. You didn't get the better of her this time. You almost did, but -- " He snorts again. "You called her yet today?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> That's right, Gordon calls Chelsea regularly to tell her how much he loves her and misses her.<br/>
<br/>
You're interrupted by a knock at the door, and Lynch comes in. "Hey, sorry I'm late -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not," mutters Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
" -- but I brought us -- " He ducks back around the corner, and with a grin brings back out a boxed pizza.<br/>
<br/>
"Nice!" you exclaim. "Hey, that reminds me, I need sixty bucks from you."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch's face falls. "How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"My business, not yours. Pay you back sometime."<br/>
<br/>
He grumbles, but sets the pizza down and pulls three twenties from his wallet. You tuck them into your sock.<br/>
<br/>
You catch Patterson's expression as you do so, and you can tell he's still thinking about his question: <i>Have you called Chelsea yet today?</i></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222
author_id: seuzz
title: Defending the Life You've Made
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your fingertips brush against the phone in your pocket as you drop back onto the mat with the pizza box, and the instinct to pull out the phone and call her almost takes over. But you jerk your hand away and concentrate on the pizza. A smell of tomato sauce, mushrooms, onions and spices gushes into the room as you open the lid. Patterson reaches over to the fridge and takes out some more beer.<br/>
<br/>
A teenage boy's idea of heaven: pizza, beer, friends, and nothing to do.<br/>
<br/>
So it's a party, though a low-key one. You swallow pizza slices without chewing them and beer without tasting it, belching and scratching all the time. You jostle with the other two and cuss at them and wipe your fingers on their shirts and they wipe theirs on yours. Jason breaks out the porn, handing you a few magazines that are very familiar to Gordon, but whose pictures bewitch him still; Patterson opens a browser on his phone and titillates himself the high-tech way.<br/>
<br/>
You're not so bemused by pictures of naked women holding various impossible poses that you wonder a little at how claustrophobic it all is. This seems to be about as much fun as Gordon is capable of having, which dismays you, for you'd figure the captain of the basketball team and the boyfriend of the head cheerleader would be leading a huge and wild pack through revels of sex and mayhem. But this gathering, you see, is the regular thing for Gordon. Oh, Chelsea gets him to go to a big party at someone's house every week or ten days -- when it's one she's throwing herself, or one she thinks is worthy of her attendance. But as you think about such scenes, you can't think of one where Gordon had any real fun. Mostly, you have the impression that he approaches them with a bad temper, and leaves them with a headache. This scene up here -- this scene now, poking and growling and jockeying with Patterson and Lynch -- is about the happiest he ever is when in the company of other people.<br/>
<br/>
After two hours -- which pass very slowly as they unspool, and seem to have flown by when they are over -- your phone rings. "So if you won't call her, she'll call you," Patterson says with a sour smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not Chelsea," you say as you check the number: Will Prescott's. "I gotta take this." You get up and walk to the other side of the room, where you keep your voice low. "Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you having fun?" says a familiar voice with a furious whine. "Where are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm up at the school with Steve and Jason." You decide to let them think it's your dad calling.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone told me you wanted to talk, and I've been waiting for a couple of hours for you to show up, so do you think you can get over here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll come right home."<br/>
<br/>
"Home? I'm in that fucking basement."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I'll meet you there as soon as I can." You hang up before he can reply. "I gotta take off," you tell your friends, and their faces show guarded sympathy, for they made the deduction you intended, and they know about Gordon's home life. "Thanks for the lunch and the money," you tell Jason. "See you tomorrow," you nod at Steve.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Gordon," Steve calls to you when you're at the door. "I'm serious about Chelsea. Make her call <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You give him a tentative nod, and leave.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb's car is still at the school, but your truck is nowhere about when you park. Did Gordon go someplace? A better question, you decide, is how he's been getting along with Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
The first question is answered when you push open the basement door and see both your friends down there. Gordon must have walked over.<br/>
<br/>
He's in your body and in your clothes, but his pose is his own: feet planted firmly, chin raised. "You been up in the loft all this time?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Lynch brought a pizza. Oh, also." You plant a foot on a desk and pull the three bills from your sock. "You can pay Tilley back with these."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care about that," he says, though he takes the cash. "I wanna know about you and my dad." His eyes are bright with anger.<br/>
<br/>
You glance at Caleb, who is sitting cross-legged on one of the desks with a dejected look on his face. Has Gordon been brow-beating him for two hours? You hope not. "Hey, eyes on me," Gordon says.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna talk about it in front of Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb raises his hands. "I don't wanna get in the middle of it," he says. "I'm not putting your mask on again."<br/>
<br/>
"Then go take a walk," says Gordon. "If you're saying it's none of your business."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb slides onto his feet with a sigh, and he bumps into you as he passes. "Hate to be in your place," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
When he's gone, you sit on the edge of a table. "So whaddaya wanna know?" you ask Gordon. "You remember any of the stuff I did while I was at your place?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so," he says, but his tone is wary. "It was a fucking day before it started coming in, you know. I thought there was something wrong with the things. But last night -- " A troubled look comes onto his face. "I had a bunch of weird fucking dreams, but when I woke up I started getting the stuff. You know what I mean, right?" He looks at you closely.<br/>
<br/>
Actually, you don't know what he means -- this doesn't sound anything like your experience. But you don't want to complicate things, so you just nod. "But it's all okay now, isn't it? Like, everything's natural?" You make a short jump and mime a free throw.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon remains wary. "As natural as it needs to be, I guess. But I wanna know what's going on with my dad. 'Cos I don't know if that stuff is real, or if I'm just remembering shit that I dreamed."<br/>
<br/>
So you ask him to describe what he "remembers." His delivery is halting, and his expression gets tighter and tighter as he goes. But when he makes a fumbling end to it, he's described your experiences pretty well.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "That's about it," you tell him. "I think he tried getting back in the saddle yesterday, but I didn't back down or anything. Uh -- "<br/>
<br/>
The words dry up in your throat. Gordon's face -- your face -- has turned the color of a bruise, and his eyes glitter with horror and fury. He has to swallow a couple of times before he can speak.<br/>
<br/>
"You fucking moron," he finally says in a choked whisper. "Do you even realize how much you've fucked things up for me?"<br/>
<br/>
No, you don't. But you've got Gordon's brain in there with you, so you switch views. While the guy with your face is boiling over, you do a gut check.<br/>
<br/>
The fear is like a kick in the stomach: Gordon has never stood up to his father, and is terrified of the consequences of doing so. But you did stand up to him, and nothing happened. In fact, it seems like you've frightened him into leaving you alone, and you've even stood up to him a second time. Could he still fuck you up? Gordon's gut tells you he could. But you also feel a giddy excitement at having kicked back at him without suffering any consequences. At least not yet.<br/>
<br/>
"I kind of get it," you tell him, speaking slowly and feeling each word before letting it out. "I know why you're scared of him -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not -- !" He glares. "Don't pretend like you know how I feel, just because you're -- !" He saves a furious finger at you. "'Cos you don't know -- !"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I do," you retort, and do feel some of Gordon's own impatience at having this twig lecturing you. "I think I know how you feel about your dad. You know how I feel about mine, right?"<br/>
<br/>
That puts him on his back heel, and he blinks. "No," he says. "I -- " He blinks some more. "I guess you feel kind of -- Scared?" His expression changes to one of puzzlement. "But not really scared."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, that sounds about right. Well, I know how you feel about your dad, and about what I did. But I was there, and I know how it feels to get in his face and have him not hit me back. Can you guess what it feels like?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's jaw drops. For a very long time he only stares at you, then through you. A shiver runs through his skinny shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
Then his eyes drop, and he swallows. "Probably feels kind of -- " He kicks at the floor. "Kind of awesome."<br/>
<br/>
"Damn straight. It's like what you were telling me and Tilley when you were playing Caleb. About standing up to the bullies."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon looks up sharply at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I stood up to your dad and I stood up to Chelsea, and I made them -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You saying you could handle my shit better than me?" he snarls.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Or -- I dunno." Now it's your turn to kick at the floor in embarrassment. "You think you could handle my stuff, and Caleb's stuff, better. You said so. How would I feel about you hitting the Molester back? Would I like that?"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face, which is answer enough.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I wouldn't. But you'd do it, because you think that's the right thing to do." You shrug. "I think I was doing the right thing with your dad and Chelsea, even if it was on accident. Maybe we each got blind spots, and the other guy can see 'em better, fix 'em."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon is very quiet, and he leans against a book case with his arms folded. "Do you think it's really like that?" he says at last. "We can fix up each other's shit better than we can do it ourselves?"</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Confessions of Others
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I don't want to take over your life," you tell Gordon. And you mean it.<br/>
<br/>
Mostly.<br/>
<br/>
Because how much of that reluctance, really, is that you don't want to exchange your life for someone else's, and how much of it is just the nauseating sense of unfamiliarity that comes with being in someone else's place? <br/>
<br/>
It's like when you were in the third grade and had to change schools because your family moved into a new district. There was nothing wrong with the new school, and when you got used to it you actually liked it better than your old school. But for the first week you kept thinking, as you sat in the new classroom: <i>This isn't forever. Tomorrow, or next week, or the week after that, I'll go back to my old school. My real school. I'm only here for a little while.</i> It was an absurd thought, and you knew it wasn't true even while you were thinking it. But it was the only way to get through the day, by telling yourself you could have fun because it wasn't a permanent change. If you told yourself the change was for keeps, you would have screamed.<br/>
<br/>
You want to scream now. However fun it is to be Gordon Black for a little while, it is frightening to imagine yourself being this way forever. Having a new family and new friends; new interests; a completely different kind of future. It fills you with vertigo.<br/>
<br/>
It feels like several minutes as you feel your way through these thoughts. Gordon must be going through a similar process, for he looks as haunted and as thoughtful as you feel. "No, I don't want you taking it over either," he says slowly. "I wanna be there when we win State."<br/>
<br/>
"Probably for the rest of your games, too," you say.<br/>
<br/>
He starts a little, then nods. "Though I guess we'll see what happens. If you think you can handle Chelsea and my dad -- " That dark look comes back to his face, but without the anger. "How about you stabilize things? Then I'll take over again when you think it's all good. After that, I dunno, we can maybe do a one-off every now and again." It sounds like he's trying to talk himself out of a temptation. Or into it? Even with his head inside yours, you can't tell for sure what he's thinking.<br/>
<br/>
There is one potential problem, and since you're too big for him to hurt, you bring it out in the open: "What about Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
"What about her?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think I mean? If she's feeling affectionate tomorrow, or the next day -- I mean," you add as he blushes deeply. "I don't think I can just always turn her down, not if she's -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to paint a fucking picture, Prescott." He avoids your eye. "Do what you think you have to do," he mutters. Then he gives you a hard look. "Turnabout's fair play, though. If I can get it on with a girl, I'm going to go for it."<br/>
<br/>
"Be my guest," you blurt out a little too eagerly. That earns you a sour look, so you follow it up with a self-denigrating, "If you actually think you can <i>get</i> a girl -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I can get one," he says, and lifts his chin. "Don't worry about me."<br/>
<br/>
You'd like to laugh, but that would be too much like laughing at yourself. "Well, good luck then. Are we okay with each other?" You put out a hand, and an awkward fist bump ensues. "Alright, this is getting a little gay. Do we wanna talk about what comes next with the book? Call Caleb back in?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is he still on the team? Sounds like he wants to quit."<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to be hanging out with him, man. Be nice."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "Hey, Johansson!"<br/>
<br/>
"Ow. Just go get him. And remember who you're supposed to be."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon looks thoughtful for a moment, then with a suppressed smile scampers over to and up the stairs. He disappears out the door.<br/>
<br/>
The notes for the next spell are laying out nearby, and you're studying the list and tugging at your lower lip when two scrawny boys come tumbling down the stairs. Will Prescott wears a cheerful, crooked grin, while Caleb Johansson looks a lot more wary, and visibly tenses when Will hangs a friendly arm around his neck. "So what's the next step, cap?" Will says.<br/>
<br/>
You look between him and Caleb. The scene makes no sense for a moment. Then you realize --<br/>
<br/>
You don't know if Gordon is trying to fool Caleb into thinking he's you, and even if he is, you don't think Caleb is going to for the gag. So you decide to play it neutrally, but with a little more of Gordon's personality than your own.<br/>
<br/>
You give the paper to Caleb. "How much is this shit going to cost? Have any idea?"<br/>
<br/>
"A couple of hundred dollars," he says, and the wariness in his eye deepens.<br/>
<br/>
"Either of you guys have a couple of hundred dollars?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," says Will, and sounds dismayingly happy about it. Caleb shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't get it from Lynch, or from anyone else," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"How about you try getting it out of people's lunch money," Caleb mutters.<br/>
<br/>
Out of the corner of your eye you see Prescott's face fall. You know why, too, and feel the same anger welling up inside you.<br/>
<br/>
The astonishing fact -- which you realize you vaguely felt ever since putting on Gordon's mask, but which only now has come into focus -- is this:<br/>
<br/>
Gordon Black does not think of himself as a bully.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, he pushes people around. Yes, he puts the hurt on them. Yes, people get squashed when he goes down the hallways. But that's not <i>bullying,</i> according to Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
You saw part of it yourself, when you were playing him at school. Anyone who is as big as Gordon Black, and who doesn't pay much attention to where he's going or how he's getting there, is of course going to trample people in the hallways like a behemoth. And when he hauls people off for a beating, it's because they have in some specific way disrespected him or his friends.<br/>
<br/>
But he has never taken money from anyone, or beaten anyone for the joy of causing pain or fear. And certainly not so he can take any money off anyone. <br/>
<br/>
Well, that's not quite right. Off the top of your head you can think of at least two occasions when he ripped money off someone, but both times it was Carson Ioeger he took it from, and he considered it a "reimbursement" for some damage Carson had done him.<br/>
<br/>
So Gordon really resents Caleb's "lunch money" line.<br/>
<br/>
You want Gordon to understand that you "get" this. So you straighten up, measure out the two paces until you're directly in front of Caleb. You grasp him by the front of his shirt, and push him back into a bookshelf. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't. Take. Money. Offa people," you inform him in a low growl. And just the act of grabbing Caleb has stirred up the black cloud of hornets in Gordon's soul, so that you pull Caleb back and ram him up against the shelf again. His teeth rattle. "I kick ass when it needs kicking." <i>Bam.</i> "And that's all." <i>Bam.</i> "Does your ass need kicking, Johansson?" <i>Bam.</i> "Do I need to fucking teach you -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, lay off him," Will says. "It was just a joke."<br/>
<br/>
You clench your jaw and let your eyes blaze down on Caleb for a moment, then release him and step back. "Is that what you are, Johansson? A fucking comedian?"<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't mean it like that," Will says again. "Come on, guys, if we're all gonna be friends, we shouldn't -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Friends?" Your own exclamation surprises you, but it's like a stopper has come out of you. "Friends? Is that what we are? Friends? 'Cos if we're not -- "<br/>
<br/>
For a moment your throat constricts, as though a natural reticence has tried to take over and stop you. But the words heave through the blockage, like vomit, when you see Will and Caleb exchange a worried glance.<br/>
<br/>
"You think we're not? Hey, look at me," you say, and spread your arms. "Look who the fuck I'm hanging out with. If you think I don't wanna be friends -- " You're not sure where the words are coming from, but they gush forth. "If you think I don't wanna be friends, then tell me you don't wanna be friends with me. Just say so. <i>Fucking say so, you fucks!</i> I didn't ask to join your gay little magic circle, you're the fucks who got me mixed up in it! If I didn't wanna be friends, I'd just take that book you found -- !"<br/>
<br/>
It's on a nearby table, in fact. Before the others can move, you grab it up. "I'd take it and drive off, leave you two dipshits to wonder what I was gonna -- " You break off. Your breathing has become labored, and you hate the look of fear in the others' eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You shove the book at Will, and bash him in the side of the head as he clutches it to his chest. "But I'm not. You don't wanna be friends with me? Tell me to fuck off, then. <i>Tell me to fuck off!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon Black doesn't cry, not even on the inside. But right now you're feeling all the usual feelings that go with crying.<br/>
<br/>
Will's stare is very grave, and very intense. His forehead creases. "I want us to be friends," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Like, you want <i>me</i> to be <i>your</i> friend? Is that it? Or are you gonna be mine, too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Both ways," he says quietly, and his gaze is unblinking.<br/>
<br/>
You look at Caleb. He looks nauseated. Maybe he's just decided he doesn't know who is who anymore, so he doesn't know who he should be speaking to. But without meeting anyone's eyes, he says, thickly, "I want us all to be friends."<br/>
<br/>
Then he adds, with uncharacteristic vehemence: "But without the masks. We should get rid of the damn book."</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212
author_id: seuzz
title: A Mission in the Dark
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>At first you think Caleb must be offering some kind of ethical challenge: Get rid of all the magical stuff before someone gets into trouble with the masks and impersonations. But when you catch Will's face, you realize there's something else going on.<br/>
<br/>
This is his way of getting rid of Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
After all, what do you have in common with Gordon Black? He's a jock, and you're not. He's dating the head cheerleader, and you don't have a girlfriend anymore. He's got to be the most well-known guy at Westside. You and Caleb are practically invisible and anonymous.<br/>
<br/>
Without masks, there is no reason and no way for him to be friends with you.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't hafta go that far," you say, and catch Will's eye. "It's a team-building thing, that's all. We're learning to trust each other."<br/>
<br/>
"We can do that without the masks," Caleb says. His glance turns piercing. "Like we're doing now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who says we're doing it without masks now?" you say. "Who says we are, and who says we aren't?" Caleb's face falls. "Anyway, I wanna keep going with this stuff. I'll be in charge of getting the dirt. That's the shit part of this next job. You two figure out where we're gonna get the money to pay for the rest of the shit." You suddenly want to leave. "I'll catch you around later."<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you going?" Will asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta go hold Chelsea's hand," you improvise. "She gets emotional diarrhea if I don't check in regularly."<br/>
<br/>
As you mount the stairs, Will and Caleb start talking in low, furious voices. Just as you're going out the door you hear Will say, "Eva! Or Jessica!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a queer kind of "trust building exercise" when you're lying to your best friend about who you really are. And you're telling Gordon an untruth too, for you don't call Chelsea. Instead, you go to Walmart and buy a hundred sand bags -- they're not expensive, so you've enough money of your own to cover that purchase. While there you spot Joshua Call, who works in the Gardening section. He turns away almost instantly after seeing you, disappearing down another aisle. For a moment you feel relief, as you'd hate to have that bastard come over and start on you. Then you remember who you are, and feel ashamed of that sense of relief. But you've no business with him anyway, and take off with the sandbags without any further worry.<br/>
<br/>
Your dad -- and now it's best to start thinking of him as your dad -- is still out on patrol, so you fix some supper, and make enough for him too. You fry up some ground beef and add some Sloppy Joe mix to it, and wolf it down on hamburger buns over the sink so as to minimize clean up. You scrub the stove when you're done, put away the food, and leave your dad a note telling him what you fixed and that leftovers are in the refrigerator. Then you drive out to Lynch's house.<br/>
<br/>
He's delighted to see you, naturally, and inquires after Chelsea; you tell him you haven't talked to her. He congratulates you on staying firm, but in a way that suggests he thinks you might be lying. You ignore it, though, and tell him you want his help tonight, after it gets dark. "We're going out to the old cemetery," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes get wide. "What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're gonna get some dirt. Halloween's coming up, you know. It might be fun to have some actual graveyard dirt around for, I dunno, party or prank shit."<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face. "Any dirt would do. Let's just go out to a greenhouse -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I want real cemetery dirt, and I want your help."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, Gordon, whatever you say," he says soothingly. "I'm game for anything. I'm just trying to save you some -- "<br/>
<br/>
"It'll be cheaper than buying dirt at a greenhouse."<br/>
<br/>
"True, true." Jason nods. "But, uh, does it have to be from a cemetery? I mean, no one's gonna know it comes from -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You scared of zombies?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! But we could go out in my backyard right now and -- "<br/>
<br/>
"From a graveyard," you tell him firmly. "We'll take it off a grave, even. Take a picture to show people if they say they don't believe us."<br/>
<br/>
He pales. "And what are we using it for?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." You shrug. "Just something to have on hand, just in case."<br/>
<br/>
Jason's expression suggests he can't think of anything he might need to have cemetery dirt on hand for, "just in case."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're not much keener on going to the cemetery than Lynch is, and it's nearly ten o'clock by the time you've decided you can't delay any longer. During that time you watch a movie with him and talk about boobs and pussies. Despite your nerves, you're pretty relaxed after two hours in his company, and you -- or maybe it's Gordon -- have a better appreciation for his crude charms. When you get down to it, he's not much smarter than Keith Tilley, and he has the same slightly desperate need to please by showing that he's cut from the same cloth as his two friends. That double familiarity -- Lynch being directly familiar to Gordon, and his Tilley-ness being familiar to you -- eventually put you at ease, so that you're laughing and joking with him before long.<br/>
<br/>
The humor continues at the graveyard, though conducted with quieter voices. "So whose grave do we want?" you ask as you vault over the low wall with shovels -- from your own house -- and the sandbags. "Old person? Old man, old woman?"<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just take the nearest one," Jason says.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, we gotta make it count. This is like popping your cherry."<br/>
<br/>
"Whose cherry? Yours?" Jason chortles.<br/>
<br/>
"I said <i>your</i> cherry. Or hers." You point to a tombstone whose deeply cut name -- "Joan Henderson" -- can be read in the bright moonlight. "Oo, I think this is the girl for you, man!"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I think she wants it." You tap at the sod with the tip of your shovel. "Oh! Oh!" you say in a groaning falsetto. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle," you reassure the grave, and with your foot gently break the topsoil. "Oh! Oh! Mm! Mmm! Yes, oh please, yes! Yes!" You push the blade firmly in and turn over a shovelful. "Oh! Deeper! Harder! Oh God!" You jam the shovel in a second time, and a third, faster and faster.<br/>
<br/>
When you finish with the imagined girl cuming, you hand the shovel to your partner. "Okay, I got her loosened up for you. You take over."<br/>
<br/>
"How deep are we going to go?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Until we find an old, dry snatch you can moisten."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Actually, you don't have to dig very deeply at all, and the trench is only about six feet long, one foot wide, and one foot deep by the time you've filled all the sandbags. With your cell phone you snap a quick picture of the grave and the hole, then start hauling the bags back to Lynch's truck. He starts bitching about having to carry the sacks up into the gym loft, and that's fine by you, for it makes a good excuse to put them someplace else. You tell him that you drove by the old Acheson elementary school a few days ago, and that that would make a good spot for a temporary drop off. So you drive out there and line them up along one of the walls. Lynch then takes you back to his house, where you pick up your Bug.<br/>
<br/>
It's after midnight by now, but instead of going home you do something Gordon often does: You drive up to the school, let yourself into the loft, and crash there for the night. Before that, though, you send a text to Prescott's cell phone, telling him that the sacks are at the school, and that he should move them into the basement ASAP, even if it means skipping school in the morning. Then, from one of the crates, you pull out an old sleeping bag and put yourself to sleep for a couple of hours.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Gordon has good reflexes, and apparently you've got a solid hold of them, for you're sitting up and blinking stupidly before the loft door opens and Steve Patterson comes in. You must have heard his feet on the steps in your sleep.<br/>
<br/>
"Rough night with the old cop?" he asks. "I saw your Bug out front, came up to see if you were awake."<br/>
<br/>
"I had a late night. Fuck, I'm stiff." You roll a shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"With Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. And shut up about Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "She's down in the bleachers, you know."<br/>
<br/>
That's a shock. She only attends pre-class practice when you pick her up. You crawl out of the bag and stretch. "How does she look?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna answer that question. She'll have seen your car, so she can guess this is where you are."<br/>
<br/>
"What time is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're supposed to start in five minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck. You rested? Then run things until I get down there. I won't be long." You sit up and begin a stretching routine in earnest. There will be stretches down below on the floor, but you will need more than that before you can start at your normal speed.<br/>
<br/>
<i>My normal speed. I'm going to run the Westside basketball squad's pre-class practice.</i><br/>
<br/>
You're still amusing yourself with this thought, and enjoying the slow-burning sensation of strong muscles loosening up as you do a set of crunches, when you hear softer footsteps on the stairs. There's a tap, and Chelsea peers in. "Hi, pookie. I came to watch, if that's okay."<br/>
<br/>
"Love to have you," you say through a grimace.<br/>
<br/>
She comes in. "Can I help?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't know how."<br/>
<br/>
"I could hold your feet for you." She sits on your feet and and cups your calves in her small, soft hands. A little prickling sweat breaks out on your scalp, and your cock rises. You try to ignore her as you resume the crunches.<br/>
<br/>
Then she asks, "Can we have lunch together? Up here? Just us?"</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121
author_id: seuzz
title: Just Desserts
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>If you had the magical means to make the floor open up and swallow you, you'd use it. Chelsea's request tears you into about five different pieces.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Of course</i> you want to spend lunch time up here with her. You know exactly what kind of "lunch" she is suggesting, and you almost burst out of your skin -- the fake Gordon skin and your real skin beneath -- with excitement. The gorgeous, haughty head cheerleader, who sent her goon boyfriend to beat you up, is asking you to screw her. She is panting for it, even.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's lizard brain wants it too. Chelsea rarely asks to be laid; usually Gordon has to beg her for a tumble. When she does ask, he lunges for it.<br/>
<br/>
But you can also feel Gordon lunging in another direction. <i>Don't you fucking touch my girlfriend,</i> he screams in the back of your head. <i>I will fuck you up more than you think is possible.</i><br/>
<br/>
Or is that your voice screaming while pretending to be his? Because you also feel deep guilt just for being tempted. Didn't you and Gordon basically promise to be friends back at the elementary school? Is this what friends do? Sleep with their girlfriends?<br/>
<br/>
But he more or less gave you permission to occasionally do it with Chelsea. He knows it's impossible for you to play him otherwise.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe this is a way to compromise: You do it when Chelsea asks for it, but you don't make any moves on her.<br/>
<br/>
Well, not serious ones.<br/>
<br/>
It's taken you an awkwardly long time to come to this decision, and Chelsea's expression has turned both fearful and disbelieving. "Yeah, let's have lunch, that'd be great," you say.<br/>
<br/>
Your words don't seem to reassure her. "You don't sound like you mean it," she says in a small voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I was just thinking about my schedule today, making sure I could take a lunch like that," you tell her, and it sounds very lame. "We'll meet up here for lunch and -- " <br/>
<br/>
Even now, with your desire (and your cock) so hard, and with a self-bestowed blessing, you hesitate before putting your mouth to hers. But instinct takes over once your lips touch, and your tongues slide over each other and into each other's mouths. She tastes like raspberries. You suck gently at her, and sigh --<br/>
<br/>
And you realize your breath tastes very bad. You pull back. "Sorry," you murmur. "I spent the night up here, I didn't brush my teeth."<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay," she says, and strokes one side of your head while nibbling at the other. "Want me to get you some gum or something from my locker?"<br/>
<br/>
"Please." You grunt and make another stretch, and get up. You don't try to hide your swollen cock as you stand, though you nearly poke Chelsea's eye out with it. "Can you leave it up here? I gotta get down to the floor."<br/>
<br/>
"You need a cold shower first," she titters.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll watch Richards make a few free throws. That'll kill everything south of my neck." You jerk and flail while pretending to make a free throw. "Fuck, I don't know what I'm going to do about him." <br/>
<br/>
Chelsea goes and you sweep on a sleeveless tee, then slip on socks and shoes. A quick jog in place -- you missed your run this morning -- to limber up the joints, and you go downstairs to run the practice.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You gonna cut Richards?" Patterson asks. He's swaggering along beside you toward the main building; here, on the open ground, the crowds part for you and him (and Jason, who's trotting along behind your other elbow) without you having to do anything.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Maybe. I don't like losing a guy, but is there anyone else in this shithole who's any better?"<br/>
<br/>
"We could have open tryouts to find out."<br/>
<br/>
"Coach won't go for that." By unspoken tradition, when you reach the double doors, Patterson opens one and you open the other and you go in at the same time. People are coming toward you, but you bulldoze through them, knocking them sideways but otherwise ignoring them. <br/>
<br/>
"Do we give a fuck? Just don't make it official," says Patterson. "Put the word out we're auditioning people -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna call it a fucking audition, okay? Christ, you want Hartlein showing up?"<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be hilarious," Lynch sniggers. "Can you see him -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"No I can't," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Call it whatever the fuck you want," says Patterson. "Just make it open to people, let's see if there's anyone good enough." A sophomore doesn't get out of his way quick enough for his taste, and he grabs the kid by the head and hurls him into a wall. "Or what about Rojas?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jay-vee Rojas? Fuck that, I'm not bringing up -- "<br/>
<br/>
"He's good enough."<br/>
<br/>
"He's on the jay-vee. Those fuckers need to know their place. I dunno. A tryout might not be a bad idea. I dunno." You've reached your locker by now, and since your neighbors know better than to block it, you've no trouble opening it and getting the day's books. Luckily, you'd left your book bag in the Bug all weekend instead of taking them in the house with you, so you've got your homework with you too. Patterson claps you on the shoulder and says he'll see you at lunch. "Hey, no you won't," you call after him. "Forgot to mention." You grin and waggle an eyebrow. "I'm eating out with Chelsea. She asked me to."<br/>
<br/>
"Dawg," Patterson drawls with a faint smile.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
First and second periods pass quickly and easily. At the end of second you rendezvous with Chelsea at her classroom, and escort her -- arms wrapped around each other, palming each other's asses -- to her class in the language wing, where you high-five Patterson as he's coming out. "I'll be up in the loft waiting when you get out," you murmur in Chelsea's ear. She giggles and blows gently in your ear.<br/>
<br/>
You stop in the restroom first, though, and you stop dead just inside the door. Seth Javits is standing on the far side, and he grins at you. He's got his hands raised as though in the middle of a free throw.<br/>
<br/>
You look to your side. A very miserable Keith Tilley is standing in the trash can, with discarded paper towels bunched up around his hips. He flinches but doesn't otherwise try to protect himself as something small and wet hits him in the side of the head. <br/>
<br/>
"Yo, wanna take a couple of shots?" Javits calls to you. He yanks a paper towel from the holder, runs it under the water pouring from the faucet, and squeezes it into a tight, hard ball. Then he cocks his arms, gives a little jump, and flings it to score another bulls-eye on Tilley's cheek.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ." You grab Keith by the collar and hurl him -- the can following -- to the floor, sending him and the garbage flying. "Get up, you pathetic shit. Clean that up -- " You barely keep yourself from kicking him on the floor. "Clean all that up and get the fuck out of here. And don't let me catch you playing backboard in here again, or I'll take you into the gym myself and jam you ass-first through a hoop."<br/>
<br/>
Javits laughs as Tilley scrambles about over the tile floor. But the laugh turns into a gasp as you lift him by the belt and bash him against the wall. His teeth rattle. "And instead of fucking around with your ladyboy over there, why don't you do something about your girlfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
He blinks. "You mean Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean Richards, you faggot. You're practically spooning with him out there on the court when you should be kicking his ass. You heard me this morning, I'm this close to cutting him, and instead of sucking him off you should be manning him up." You bash him against the wall again. "What are you gonna do when I cut him and then you don't got the squad to play beard for you and him when we're traveling?" You press up close, and push a hoarse sigh out of him. "That's what you were planning on, right? You and him rooming, and doing it in both beds when we're on the road? You better fucking help me straighten his shit out, or you're gonna have to ask Cindy to start taking it anally while answering to Richards' name. You get me?" You give him one more blow for good measure before dropping him.<br/>
<br/>
He's very pale. "I'll talk to him, Gordon, I'll work with him -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want you to work with him, asshole, I want you to make him <i>fucking work!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I will! Any special drills or skills?" he stammers.<br/>
<br/>
"All of them! No time off for either of you! If you got enough time between classes to -- " You look over your shoulder in time to see Tilley crawling out the door on his hands and knees. "Who was that, anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
"Name's Tilley, he's -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a shit. If you got time for that fuckbag, you got time for Richards." You put your chest against his and push him against the wall. "Or I'll hang <i>you</i> offa one of our backboards, and we'll all take turns bouncing a basketball off <i>your</i> face!"<br/>
<br/>
You grab him by the ear and hurl him toward the exit. "Now watch the door while I take a shit."<br/>
<br/>
It's the best you can do for Keith, and you doubt it'll really make a difference even in the short term: Javits will still find time to torment him. But maybe he'll feel a little better for having seen Javits be tormented himself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Third period is study hall, and you spend it doing homework. You're starving, having had a workout without breakfast and with no prospect of lunch. As the middle of the period you're sorely tempted to call your doppelganger and ask him to bring you his lunch.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211
author_id: seuzz
title: Date with Another Guy's Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can't take it. You need something to eat, and you're willing to run the risk of telling Gordon what you've got planned for lunch. So you text your old phone number: <i>Need food bad. Bring ur lunch to the loft? Pls?</i><br/>
<br/>
A minute later your phone tweets. It's Will Prescott: "What's wrong? Whaddaya need food for?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos I'm starving. Wait, are you in class?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Obviously. I'm just leaving the elementary school, just got all those bags moved in. Christ. If I'm going to be spending any time being you, I'm going to have to start working out."<br/>
<br/>
This alarms you -- not the threat to work out, but the fact that he's skipped his morning classes. But he explains it was only the bullshit second and third period classes that he skipped out on, and he'll be back to school in plenty of time for English. "I'll run you my lunch up to the loft when I get there." He hangs up, for which you're grateful, since you haven't had to explain about Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
But when he arrives and meets you in the loft, he asks you about it point blank: "So how come you can't wait until lunch? You can have all the slop you can eat then."<br/>
<br/>
You concentrate on tearing open the paper bag and spilling out the sandwich, apple, bag of chips and bottled water. "'Cos I'm having lunch up here with Chelsea." You avoid his eye until the silence becomes awkward. When you look up, he looks away.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I see," he says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"She asked me," you tell him. "It was her idea. I, uh, I thought it would be weird if I said 'no'."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it would be."<br/>
<br/>
He's turning red, but it looks like embarrassment, not anger. You also feel yourself turning red. <br/>
<br/>
"Look, that's the way I'm going to do it, okay?" you tell him. "Um, when it's her idea, that's the only time I'll, you know -- "<br/>
<br/>
"No, you should do it whenever. It'll look weird if you don't."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't?" Naturally, he looks surprised.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, how to answer that?</i> "I don't want to do anything that'll piss you off or make you think I'm -- "<br/>
<br/>
"It won't," he says, though he doesn't sound entirely convinced himself. "I know this is the way that we have to, uh -- " He swallows. "And I'm going to be doing stuff with your, uh -- " He flops his arms awkwardly instead of saying "your body" or "your cock." "So, we'll be even."<br/>
<br/>
"You said that before. Anyone in particular, or are you just farting and pretending it's perfume?"<br/>
<br/>
He flushes. "Well, with somebody. I'm planning on it." He turns insolent. "I'm gonna get you fucking laid, Prescott, okay? So fucking deal with it!" He deflates as you snort. "So, to be even, you're going to have to, you know."<br/>
<br/>
You're silent for a moment. Then you lean back. "Well, it's not like I won't have to work for it. It's not like she's going to roll over just because I ask."<br/>
<br/>
That gets a little smile out of him.<br/>
<br/>
"So, really, when I say I'm only gonna get laid when she asks for it, it's just me being realistic."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs, and the tension drains from the room. "That's true. It's alright." He looks you in the face again, and those crooked eyes and crooked smile are fixed in a friendly way. "Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. And if our moment of total gayness is over, if you do manage to get laid in that thing, can you at least try to make it a cheerleader?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do what I can. Oh, speaking of cheerleaders, we made up a new mask yesterday, me and Caleb are gonna try to get it on one of the Garner girls. Lift a debit or credit card off her and try to use it to get some money."<br/>
<br/>
"Wow, you're kind of bending things." You cock your head. "That's not your plan for getting laid, is it? Put Caleb in a mask of Jessica Garner, and then you -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! No! I don't know what I'll do, but I'm going to do something. That sock was good enough for you, but not for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, it's what I had to make do with. And you better get out of here before the bell rings. And I gotta eat. What are you gonna do for lunch?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sponge off the guys." His face tightens. "Probably gonna have to eat with Ioeger and Lamont."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I have to hang out with Patterson and Lynch. Call it even."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever. Maybe I'll just try keeping it to Johansson and Tilley."<br/>
<br/>
"Try to catch up with Tilley anyway." You grin. "He might have a story to tell you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?"<br/>
<br/>
But just then the bell rings, so he takes off, and you shove the food down your gullet before Chelsea can arrive.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She's a little long in coming, which gives you time both to finish your food and to brush your teeth (though you have no water and have to spit as best you can into the garbage sack). But she's worth the wait. She's changed out of her jeans and blouse and into her cheerleader uniform.<br/>
<br/>
But without the stockings. And when she flirtatiously twirls, you see she's not wearing anything beneath the skirt. "You are just begging to be molested, little girl," you say, and catch her into an embrace.<br/>
<br/>
"I was begging this morning," she says. "And I was thinking about it all during classes. We should do it in the halls some night," she says, digging her fingernails into your back. "We should break into the main building some night, do it on the floor in each of the wings."<br/>
<br/>
"Floor would be like ice."<br/>
<br/>
"So we'd bring one of the mats with us. Or I'd keep you warm. You'd keep me warm." She pulls up your shirt and rubs her face in your meaty chest. "You make me so hot and wet," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
You pull off your shirt and shorts and kick off your shoes, then sit on the mat. She straddles you, standing on her knees and covering your lap with her skirt, to touch your cock with her bush. You brace yourself with one hand and hold her with the other; she cradles your face between her hands. You kiss, slowly and gently, sucking on lips and touching tongues.<br/>
<br/>
As you warm to each other, though, she takes the tip of your cock inside her. Bit by bit she lowers herself onto you, and you lean back, first onto your elbows and then onto your back, as she takes in more and more of you. You've had Gordon's memories to titillate you, but they are nothing like having her hot, velvet flesh actually wrapped around you. It's a sweet contrast to the satiny feel of her cheerleader top as you grip and hold her up.<br/>
<br/>
When you're firmly anchored inside her, you begin to thrust and retreat, slowly and rhythmically. Chelsea groans and sucks on her lower lip. This beautiful girl, this amazingly sexy girl, is yours, and she is gulping with aching pleasure as you thrust inside her. Faster you push, and she rumbles and squeaks. Up you push, lifting your hips from the ground, and she throws her head back. "Oh, God," she moans. "Oh, Gordon!"<br/>
<br/>
You wish it had taken a little longer, but you freeze in mid-air as you feel the boiling froth rise inside you, and when it reaches the tip, you drop and bounce off the mat. You clamp onto her hips and push her down onto yourself as you jackhammer her insides. Your lips peel back and you squeeze your eyes shut and you are the Fucking Sex God of Westside High.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Afterwards you hold her tightly to yourself as she sprawls atop you like a rag doll. She is breathing heavily in your ear, and her lips are very still. You like the silence after these things. Chelsea likes to talk, and you flatter yourself at these times that you've fucked her speechless.<br/>
<br/>
But after long minutes her lips work. "Hm?" you ask. "You say something?"<br/>
<br/>
She swallows. "We forgot the condom."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll be okay. Won't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm-hmm." She swallows again. "Just don't want to get out of the habit, get careless."<br/>
<br/>
"Not much chance of that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
She swallows again, and sighs deeply and contentedly. "I want to do it more often."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm-hmm. I promised I'd make things work. I will. Things seem to work better for us, don't they, after we've -- " She kisses you.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so. But, you know, just because I'm horny doesn't mean you have to be too."<br/>
<br/>
She raises her head to peer down nearsightedly at you. Then she lays back down, to brush your cheek with hers and grind herself a little farther down your softened but still engorged cock. <br/>
<br/>
"I wish I <i>was</i> as horny as you," she says. "It'd be easier. And fun." She snickers softly. "Guys have it so easy. You know what makes you happy, and it's easy for you to get happy, and you get happy -- what, a dozen times a day?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean get an erection? More like a hundred times a day."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't see me a hundred times a day."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just think of you that often."<br/>
<br/>
"Mmmm. I want you inside me, Gordon. All the way inside me, all the time." She wriggles. "I want a big, swollen belly, and you're inside me so I can hold you and rub you all over and all around -- "<br/>
<br/>
This is getting very scary. "You don't want a baby, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
She raises her face. "Well -- Eventually, yes. Don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah. But not yet, not while we're still in school. I mean, <i>you</i> don't either. Right? What would happen to your squad?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you're right." But she sighs happily. "I'm just telling you what I want, eventually. But for my fantasy -- " Impulsively, she kisses you. "Forget fantasy. I've got what I want right now."</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Ultimatum
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You would like nothing better than to spend the rest of the afternoon with Chelsea, but you need to get ready for class. She returns to the girls' locker room to wash herself, and you also take a quick shower before changing into jeans and a t-shirt.<br/>
<br/>
You suffer through the rest of day from Chelsea withdrawal and also the lingering effects of unsatiated hunger and lack of sleep. It's worst during sixth period -- Athletic Weight Conditioning -- which you share with most of the basketball squad along with large numbers of football players and wrestlers. You have to make it look good in front of all those fuckers, but Gordon knows his limits, so you're able to push yourself only about ten percent past them, which is enough to maintain appearances without risking serious injury.<br/>
<br/>
You wonder, in passing, if you can hurt yourself in a mask. If you broke a leg while wearing Gordon's mask, would you find your own leg broken when you took it off? When you put the mask back on, would the leg still be broken?<br/>
<br/>
But you're not curious enough to hazard the experiment.<br/>
<br/>
And when classes end you have another basketball practice session. For your own sake you minimize the exertions and concentrate on hand-eye drills, and halfway through, when you break for some play time, you divide the squad into mini-teams and pit each of them in pairs on a half court.<br/>
<br/>
When you're finally done with the day's duties, you drag yourself up to the loft and collapse on the mat with Patterson and Lynch. "Fuck," you gasp. "I don't wanna move until -- Fuck me, Friday, at least."<br/>
<br/>
"I hear that," Patterson says as he breaks out three beers. "But what are you dragging for? You woke up late."<br/>
<br/>
"We went to bed late," Lynch chirps. "Didn'tja tell Stevie about our thing last night?"<br/>
<br/>
Patterson's jaw clenches at the hated nickname.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Fuck me, that was a dumb idea." You swallow half the beer Patterson's handed you.<br/>
<br/>
"No, it was cool," says Lynch. "We went out to the cemetery, you know, the one out on Farm Road," he tells Patterson. "Half dug an old woman out of her grave."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson rears back. "The fuck? What's cool about -- ?" He looks between you and Lynch, showing both shock and perplexity. "What the fuck were you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was a dumb idea I had for Halloween," you say. "I got it into my head that it'd be cool if we got a bunch of dirt from a graveyard, just to have on hand to freak people out with or something. Even took a picture of the grave we lifted the dirt from. So, I'm worn out from all that shoveling we did. How many bags did we fill?"<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, Gordon," says Steve before Jason can answer. "Where the fuck did you get that idea from?"<br/>
<br/>
"It just came to me. I don't know what we're gonna do with it. Probably nothin'. We should just leave it where it is."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
Lynch answers. "We dropped it off at this old school down in Acheson. We need to go get it before the grounds-keeping people out there take it away."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck it, let 'em take it. Steve's right, it was a fucked up idea, and I don't give a fuck."<br/>
<br/>
"But after all that work!" Lynch looks genuinely hurt.<br/>
<br/>
"I said, Fuck it! We can get some more later, if it seems like a good idea, which it won't."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you can just get it yourself," Lynch says peevishly.<br/>
<br/>
"I will. Fuck, if I wanna hear someone bitch and moan, I'll go hang out with Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch bites his tongue, and Patterson changes the subject to the basketball squad and Richards. There is some discussion that goes nowhere and takes its sweet time getting there, but after thirty minutes you cut it off by saying you need to take a hot shower.<br/>
<br/>
Lynch is gone by the time you've showered, dried, and changed into street clothes, but Patterson is still hunched in the loft, playing with his phone. "You got a text while you were downstairs," he says. "Fucking Lynch tried to take it, so I threw him out."<br/>
<br/>
Something in his manner suggests that he saw who the text was from, and that it bothered him. You instantly tense. It hadn't occurred to you that these guys would go snooping on your phone while you were away from it. What if you get a message from "Will Prescott" or "Caleb Johansson"? What if Patterson sees some of the texts you've been sending them?<br/>
<br/>
As casually as you can, you ask, "Who was it from?"<br/>
<br/>
The answer is worse than you'd feared: "Your dad."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson doesn't look up as you check the message. It contains only two words: <i>Home. Now.</i><br/>
<br/>
It sounds like he's going to make another stab at bringing you to heel.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Steve follows you back to the house, but remains in his parked car in front while you go in. You asked him to come along, and with a curt and wordless nod he'd acceded. Steve Patterson is an asshole -- even Gordon thinks his best friend is a pretty nasty specimen of the eighteen-year-old high school male -- but he is loyal to Gordon and surprisingly tactful, too. He would never volunteer to go with you for moral support, but you don't have to ask him directly in order to get it. All you have to do is say, "Come go with me. I got some shit I need to pass on to you." And he understands perfectly.<br/>
<br/>
You wish you were man enough outside Gordon's skin to get the same kind of respect from Steve Patterson. For the first time since the day you had the dubious honor of moving into the same school as him, you actually feel as though you could like him, and you wish that he could like you.<br/>
<br/>
You don't make a lot of noise when you go inside the house, but you don't try to be quiet, either. Nor do you call out for anyone. You look in the living room and the dining room, the kitchen and down the hallway. Then you go out in the backyard.<br/>
<br/>
That's where your dad is. He's got the hose and is spraying down some bushes. He turns to give you a long, steady look, then goes back to spraying.<br/>
<br/>
You stand near him, patiently, and don't say anything to him. You ought to, he expects you to call him "sir" and to ask what he requires of you. But you've decided to break that habit.<br/>
<br/>
A flush creeps into his cheek as he continues to pointedly ignore you, and as you pointedly decline to address him by name. But he breaks first. "You didn't come home last night."<br/>
<br/>
"I was with Jason, we were working late, it seemed best to just crash with him."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't call to ask permission."<br/>
<br/>
"It was late when I realized what time it was. I didn't want to wake you."<br/>
<br/>
It's a reasonable explanation, though not a truthful one. Or, more precisely, it's an explanation that would satisfy a reasonable man. Gordon's dad isn't a reasonable man, though.<br/>
<br/>
"You spend the night in this house. You ask permission before you don't."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I should -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You don't think. You obey." His jaw works, and he turns a very familiar expression on you. "That is the rule, and as long as you live under my roof you obey my rules."<br/>
<br/>
This, too, would be a reasonable request if coming from most fathers, including Harris Prescott. But Gordon's dad is not a reasonable man, and you see in the gleam in his eye the thought and plan behind this demand. He is going to re-establish his dominance over you -- including the physical dominance -- on pain of throwing you out.<br/>
<br/>
Either you return to the way things were before -- including the beatings -- or he will put you on the street.<br/>
<br/>
You gaze back and decline to take the bait. If you can make him realize that you're just not going to play these games.<br/>
<br/>
"I want an answer," he growls.<br/>
<br/>
So it's got to be a "Yes" or a "No." And he'll take continued silence as a negative. You surprise yourself with how calmly you're taking it. It's almost like an intellectual puzzle. <i>How can I get out of this?</i> You cock your head thoughtfully while still looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
Actually, you might be able to put up with the abuse. It's just physical abuse, at its worst, and the pain always fades. It fades faster than the pain of physical exercise, even. And in other cases it's just mental abuse, of a kind. The fact is that Gordon suffers terribly under his father because he believes he should love and obey his father, so his dad only has to yell in order for Gordon to feel bad. But you feel no similar need to humiliate yourself for this monster's approval. So there's a pretty good chance you could just shrug it all off.<br/>
<br/>
But there's a stiff-necked part of you that rebels against putting on again a yoke that you've already shaken off. Even if the yoke doesn't mean anything to you, it would be a humiliating thing to do.<br/>
<br/>
And you'd be putting Gordon back inside it, too.<br/>
<br/>
Could you live on the street? It wouldn't be that bad, for you've the gym loft you can sleep in. You could wash clothes at your friends' houses. Food would be a problem, though. You'd have to get a job in order to eat, even if your other expenses would be pretty minimal.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, you've got magic in your corner.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112
author_id: seuzz
title: Life Changes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Every possible decision feels fraught with peril. This shouldn't be your decision to make, because it's Gordon who will have to eventually live with the consequences. He should be the one making the call.<br/>
<br/>
But he's contracted out his life to you, same as you've contracted yours to him. In some ways, you'd said, you'd be better at living his life, and he'd be better at living his, than at running your own lives. <br/>
<br/>
So you've no one to blame but yourself for being here. You're here because you thought you'd see things more clearly than he could.<br/>
<br/>
And that's what gives you the confidence and serenity to make the call now.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be out of here by Friday."<br/>
<br/>
A vein throbs in your dad's temple. "Your room will be empty by tomorrow at seven o'clock," he says in a cold, dead voice. "Anything still in it at eight will go to the dump."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll be out of here tonight." You return to the house, feeling his eyes on your back.<br/>
<br/>
At the front door you gesture to Steve as you take out your phone. "My dad's kicking me out," you tell him quietly when he's trotted up. "Can you help me get my stuff out of my room? I'm calling Lynch so we can use his truck."<br/>
<br/>
"No problem. Where are you going to go?" His manner is grave, though he doesn't seem surprised.<br/>
<br/>
"Do what I usually do, crash up in the gym loft."<br/>
<br/>
"We have a room over the garage at my place."<br/>
<br/>
"The loft is free. But I might ask you and Jason to carry me a little as far as food goes, until I can find a part-time job someplace."<br/>
<br/>
"No problem," Patterson repeats. "But think about the room at my place. The loft isn't good for living in."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll get out of your way when you need it overnight. Spend it with Lynch."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson's smile is cool but genuine. "That's not what I meant, but thanks for thinking of me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Lynch arrives twenty minutes later, and the three of you get the bed disassembled and packed in the back of his truck. Next to it, without bothering to pack a box, you drop the armful of old books that Gordon has, and a couple of garbage sacks packed with all the clothes from the dresser and closet. Anything loose or sentimental -- and you know what counts as sentimental, like the trophies and posters and an old toy fire truck -- you take along. You leave behind only such furniture as a desk and bookcase and dresser: stuff that takes up room and can be replaced later on. You don't bother to tell your father goodbye, but follow Lynch and Patterson as the three-vehicle procession makes its way to Steve's place.<br/>
<br/>
That's where you've decided to put the bulky stuff -- the bed and the books and some other odds and ends, for you relented when Steve insisted that the studio apartment over the garage could at least hold those things. He also invites you and Jason to dinner, which you're happy to accept, and it's a pleasant but subdued meal. You're especially pleased that Patterson and Lynch -- who don't like much like each other -- are more than polite to each other.<br/>
<br/>
Steve's father, who like his son is tall and rangy and has pale gray eyes, accepts without comment your explanation that you've had to move out of your parents' house, and when he asks if you can support yourself you truthfully tell him that you need a job. "I can help you there," he says, and tells you that the supermarket where he is a manager has a need for a stock boy. "It's only part-time work," he says. "But you do have school and practice, so you probably don't need or want more than that."<br/>
<br/>
You ponder this implied offer for about three seconds, then ask where you should go to fill out an application. "Have dinner with us tomorrow," he says, "and I'll have it with me." You thank him.<br/>
<br/>
Then, after playing some ball with your friends in his driveway, you part with them and drive out with Lynch to Westside, where you haul your clothes other daily necessities up into the loft. "Pretty fair bachelor quarters," Lynch observes cheerfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Not bad, but if I'm gonna be living here -- " You make a face and kick at the old gym mat. "I gotta clean and reorganize this place."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a bad hang out, but it's gonna stink if I'm living up here all the time. I should put Chelsea to work on fixing it up."<br/>
<br/>
"Not Chelsea," Lynch cries in mock horror. "She'll put up curtains everywhere, cover ever'thing with chintz!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd kind of like that," you say, and you're only half joking. "Like, we could put an easy chair over there, with a little side table and a lamp -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Are you serious?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Well, a little." Actually, the idea of changing it from a faux-frat flophouse to a studio apartment sounds kind of neat. "I need to talk to her anyway. And if I'm gonna be living up here, she's definitely going to want to do something about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, lemme know when you're done," Lynch grumbles, "so I can bring a housewarming present."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna call her pretty quick," you say. "I better talk to her alone, since this is a pretty big deal. Thanks for everything, though." You pull him into a brief, manly bro-hug. "See you around tomorrow." You close and lock the door after he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't call Chelsea. You wait until you see Lynch's truck pull away from the school, and then call Will Prescott's number. He agrees to meet you at the old elementary school in twenty minutes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You dreaded the meeting with Gordon, but it goes off much better than you'd feared. Gordon, you know, has thought in the past about moving out his parents' house, but has never dared act on it; but you were deeply worried that he'd be incandescent with fury to find that you'd done it on your own. He takes your announcement gravely but calmly, though, and remains very quiet when you explain the circumstances leading up to it. "I thought I'd changed things with your dad," you tell him. "He wanted to change things back. I didn't think you'd want that."<br/>
<br/>
He leans back against a table, gripping its edge and staring at the floor. "No, that makes sense," he says at last. "It all makes sense. I could never work up the nerve to make a break of things. It's still scary now that it's happened. But I'm glad it's over, and -- " He twists nervously: a tic that you recognize as one of your own. "You're going to be living it. Setting up the new job, all the rest."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'll take care of that."<br/>
<br/>
His mouth works, and your nerves twist up, because it looks like he's trying not to yell at you. But when he does speak, the shock is in the opposite direction. "I -- Uh, I kind of did the same thing to you." He swallows. "I should have talked to you about it first, but I didn't. I also got a job. That job your dad's been trying to get you to take at his work."<br/>
<br/>
This is a blow to the stomach. That job at Salopek you've been trying to dodge? For a moment you are very angry, but instantly cool when you realize what he's done to your life is nothing compared to what you've just done to his. "Why'd you decide to do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought it was a good idea. The money is good, the experience is good." He pauses. "The days are kind of dead after school."<br/>
<br/>
You yourself would rather have the free time, but you can see why Gordon would feel a little lost. "Well, that's cool then. You'll have to tell me how it goes. When do you start?"<br/>
<br/>
"Day after tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want to switch back until then? That way you can get things set up in the loft and with Steve the way you want?"<br/>
<br/>
He rubs his arm. "I don't think so." He sighs deeply, and leans back to raise his face toward the ceiling. His eyes are closed.<br/>
<br/>
"I like your life, Prescott," he says softly. "I like not having the stress. That's kind of why I want that job. It keeps things from being too boring."<br/>
<br/>
"It was kind of boring, I know."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think of my life?" He keeps his eyes closed, but his face tightens.<br/>
<br/>
"It's got its perks."<br/>
<br/>
He smiles. "Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Definitely. And I don't just mean, uh, Chelsea." Now you have to pause, for it's a screwball confession you're about to make. "I like Steve and Jason. Well, Jason's a little annoying. But they're really good guys, really solid."<br/>
<br/>
"I think so."<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I've always thought of them."<br/>
<br/>
He opens his eyes now, but looks off in the distance, not at you. "Yeah, I know. I get it, it makes sense." He shifts. "I know what you thought of me."<br/>
<br/>
You think you understand Gordon a lot better now. And although you weren't wrong to hate and fear him, you also know that your impression of him was based on a very incomplete knowledge of him.<br/>
<br/>
"I like Steve and Jason now, but I like you a lot better," you say. "I get why you're doing this stuff with me and Caleb. I thought it was weird and crazy and scary at first. I didn't think we could trust you, and I don't think Caleb will ever trust you. Not unless he gets to spend a week being you. But I'd trust you with my life now. I mean, I guess I already am." You kick playfully at his foot. "But I can't imagine Steve or Jason being nearly as cool with me as you are."<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says. "I can't picture it either. But I miss them. Hell." He rubs an eye. "I think I miss them more than Chelsea."</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121
author_id: seuzz
title: Aftershocks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your news was the most important of the day, but Gordon has some of his own to share, beyond that about the job at Salopek. He tells you about it after you ask if he and Caleb are going to be able to get the rest of the supplies for the next spell.<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb's working on it right now. He's on a date. Sort of."<br/>
<br/>
"With Eva?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
That's a surprise. "I don't picture them on a date."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not really a date. They're talking about Eva. Caleb is asking her if he's really got a shot with her."<br/>
<br/>
"He definitely has a shot with her!" you exclaim. "I had a date with her!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to tell me," Gordon says. "I know all about it. But it's Johansson, you know he hasn't got the balls. And <i>you</i> were the one that was making a play for her. He's hardly been alone with her."<br/>
<br/>
"But what's Yumi got to do with any of this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. It's an excuse. He's going to talk to her about Eva, I told him he had to do that, but it's so he can use that mask we made. We'll get the money from her."<br/>
<br/>
"From Yumi? I thought you were going to try getting it from Eva or Jessica."<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't want to do that, not if he's got a chance with Eva. So he's not a total moron." He checks his cell phone. "I figure to hear back from him in an hour. Wanna stick around until then?"<br/>
<br/>
"I should talk to Chelsea, tell her about what happened with -- " You almost say "my dad," but correct at the last moment.<br/>
<br/>
"You haven't told her yet? Yeah, you need to get on that. I'll text you when Caleb gets back. Maybe we could go up to the school, keep you company?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe." You avoid his eye. It's occurred to you that Chelsea might be tender and affectionate after hearing what befell you this afternoon. "If Chelsea comes out there, it might be kind of awkward if you showed up."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Well, call or text if it's not too late and you want company." He says this in a very neutral tone.<br/>
<br/>
"We might move furniture around," you continue, though the line hardly makes any sense. "What I mean is," you add when he gives you a strange look, "if I'm going to be living up there, she might want to clean it up." Your line about cleaning up the loft made sense when you were talking to Lynch. Now it just sounds like nonsense. "But I'll text you one way or another."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wait until you're back at the loft before making the next phone call. Chelsea is very chipper, but she also sounds distracted; she's probably plotting how to torture the other cheerleaders tomorrow. You're very mute and let her do the talking, until it sounds like she's trying to wrap up the conversation and get back to her texts and social media. "Something happened with my dad tonight," you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?" she says, and you can instantly tell you've caught her attention.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Uh, he kicked me out of the house."<br/>
<br/>
A pause. "For how long?"<br/>
<br/>
"For good. I assume. Actually, I kicked myself out. He told me he wanted me to do something, and I -- "<br/>
<br/>
<i>Whoa!</i> All unexpectedly, you actually feel all the years of pressure and stress and bottled up anger that Gordon's been carrying around, and you feel them heave and crack and burst. Tears explode behind your eyeballs, your chest swells and burns, and your voice turns raw and ragged.<br/>
<br/>
"I couldn't take it anymore," you gasp. "I told him I wouldn't do it, and he said he'd throw me out if I didn't, so I got Steve and Jason to come over and we -- we -- "<br/>
<br/>
You break down in sobs. You hardly hear her when she says, "I'll be right out."<br/>
<br/>
The phone slips from your hands, and you huddle up on the mat and weep into your knees.<br/>
<br/>
<i>What is happening to you?</i> These aren't your emotions. You don't feel this way. You were totally calm and collected when you made these decisions. Even now, you feel like this isn't you crying, this is some weirdly convincing act that you're putting on for an empty room.<br/>
<br/>
But those feelings of rage and loss and resentment -- and relief -- also feel very real, and they wrack you up and down and from side to side. You don't stop them. You've got a ghost of Gordon Black inside with you, and even in your shock you seem to know that you need to let this phantom vent and roar and sob the way the real one would.<br/>
<br/>
The worst of the storm has spent itself by the time Chelsea opens the door. You raise a messy face to her, and her lips part with a deep and obvious sympathy. "Oh, pookie," she says softly, and comes in.<br/>
<br/>
She crouches beside you and cradles the side of your face in her hand. "Tell me what happened." There's no question of affection. There is only sympathy as she settles next to you with her arms around your neck and her face close to yours.<br/>
<br/>
You're able to explain yourself calmly without breaking down again. "It started a couple of days ago. He got out the switch, because I hadn't mown the lawn. Something in me snapped, right then. I grabbed it from him, and I broke it."<br/>
<br/>
She catches her breath.<br/>
<br/>
"And it seemed like we were okay after that. I think I scared him. I mostly did like I'm always supposed to do with him, but I did some other things, little things, just to let him see I wasn't going to take his shit anymore.<br/>
<br/>
"But today I guess he decided to try going back to the way it was before. I spent the night up here last night, and he told me I couldn't do that anymore, I had to get permission before ever staying out, and I had to keep obeying all his rules. And the way he said it -- " A wave of nauseated anger rolls over you. "I could tell that if I said okay, he'd make another switch. I'd be right back where I was before."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's expression turns grim, but in her eyes you can see her approval at the way you defied your dad.<br/>
<br/>
"He said he made the rules, and that if I wouldn't obey them, I'd have to move out. So I said I would. And I did."<br/>
<br/>
For a moment she stares at you evenly. Then she hugs you tightly.<br/>
<br/>
"I am so proud of you, Gordon," she says. "You did exactly the right thing. Oh my God." She sniffs hard, and a small sob breaks into her voice. "It was hard for you, I know, but you did it!" When she pulls back, you see the tears running down her cheeks. She wipes them away. "We'll make it work, whatever happens next. Where are you going to stay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Up here."<br/>
<br/>
She gasps. "You can't stay up here!"<br/>
<br/>
You smile ruefully. "That's what Steve said."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's right!" she exclaims, without realizing that this is probably the first time she's ever said that Patterson was right about something. "You have to -- We have to find you an apartment!"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't got a job. Well, not yet. Steve's dad -- I ate with them tonight -- he said he could give me a part-time job as a stock boy or something at his supermarket. If I stay here, that'll be enough to -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You can't stay here! I mean, look at this place!"<br/>
<br/>
"Help me make it nice?"<br/>
<br/>
She jerks her head back. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Maybe we could pick out some fabric to cover shit with, put some throw pillows around -- "<br/>
<br/>
She punches you, but smiles as she does so.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm serious. I told Lynch when we were up here that I can't live in this place if it's like this. We'd have to move stuff around, and -- "<br/>
<br/>
"The school wouldn't let you, Gordon. If they found out, you would be in so much trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"How are they going to find out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, how many people would know you're living up here?"<br/>
<br/>
"You, Steve, Jason." <i>Will Prescott and Caleb Johansson.</i><br/>
<br/>
"It would get around," she says. "Steve doesn't gossip, but even he might accidentally let something slip."<br/>
<br/>
"What about you, are you saying you couldn't keep it secret?"<br/>
<br/>
She turns red. "I'm not going to comment on that. Except that yes, even I might slip. If you were the only one who knew you were up here, maybe you could get away with it, for a little while. But someone would notice your car downstairs eventually, that it's always out there."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't afford an apartment, Chels, even a tiny, shitty one, on a part-time salary. And I can't work more than that if I'm going to school and playing on the team."<br/>
<br/>
"So what if I got a job too, and helped you out? What if I gave you my salary to help pay for your new place?"<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes widen. "Are you serious?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure I am! Oh, pookie." She rubs her face against yours. "I want to help out. I don't want you screwing up your school work or the team just because you have to, you know -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Eat?"<br/>
<br/>
She gasps. "Are you going to be able to do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"With the money from my job, yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"But where will you cook?"<br/>
<br/>
"I won't. I'll get ready made -- "<br/>
<br/>
"That stuff's not healthy for you, and you can't live on fast food! You need real food, Gordon! Healthy food, home-cooked food! That's another reason you need your own place!"<br/>
<br/>
"I only know how to make a few things, not enough to -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I'll help there, too!"<br/>
<br/>
This is almost as staggering as the fact that you moved out on your own. "I'll have to think about it. I'll be okay for a few days."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea looks very stern, but drops the subject. You cuddle for about an hour without really talking, then you send her home by saying you're exhausted.<br/>
<br/>
The main reason you send her away, though, is because you got two texts while you were with her, both wanting to talk about the situation. One is from Steve, and the other is from Caleb.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212
author_id: seuzz
title: A Friendly Offer from a Surprising Place
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb is probably just calling to talk about the mask he was aiming to get onto Yumi, so you can deal with him quickly before calling Patterson back. So that's who you call first. "Hey, I heard you were having a girls' night out with Yumi," you say without preamble when he picks up.<br/>
<br/>
There's a silence. Then: "Yeah. But I hear you had some excitement too."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Prescott told you about that, huh? But what's the deal with Yumi?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can tell you about that. But if you're up in the loft and don't have anyone with you, I wanna come up to talk about the situation."<br/>
<br/>
Okay, this is weird. "What situation?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your living situation. Let's just say it interests me."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Huh.</i> "Yeah, alright. Come on up. I'll leave the door open."<br/>
<br/>
And since he's got something to say about it, you decide to put off talking to Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The gym is pitch black, but you wait down on the bleachers for Caleb. When the door opens, you call to him -- too late realizing it might not be him -- and let the sound of your voice guide him over. "You coulda got over here quicker," you tell him after he's crept up. "There's nothing to trip over."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know my way around these places," he says. "Can we go up to the fuck room? I'd like to see it."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. You know, we don't call it that. The 'fuck room'."<br/>
<br/>
"No?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh uh. We just call it the loft. Only fucking sophomores call it 'the fuck room'."<br/>
<br/>
"Then the senior class must be full of sophomores, 'cos everyone I know calls it the fuck room."<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't wanna sound like a tool, call it the loft."<br/>
<br/>
You've been ascending the stairs all this time, and when you reach the landing the lights from the loft guide you in. "So what do you think?" you ask, semi-boastfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, it stinks," Caleb says, and he crinkles his nose. "I love it. But you're shitting me, you're not going to live up here."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea doesn't want me to. Steve-o doesn't want me to either."<br/>
<br/>
"You should listen to them. This looks like an awesome party room, but -- Got a beer you can loan me?"<br/>
<br/>
It surprises you that he knows there's beers to be had. Then you think: <i>It stinks like beer in here, and obviously we'd have some up here anyway.</i> You pull one from the fridge for him, and take one for yourself. "Thanks. So what do Chelsea and Patterson want you to do?" Caleb asks as he cracks it open.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea wants me to get my own place. She even -- Never mind."<br/>
<br/>
"No, tell me, what does she even what?" He swallows some beer.<br/>
<br/>
"It's none of your business."<br/>
<br/>
"Is she talking about moving in with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said it's not your business!"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," he says sourly. "I thought we were all friends."<br/>
<br/>
"And anyway, I only told her I'd think about it. Steve wants me to move into this apartment he has over his garage."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb nods. "That wouldn't be bad."<br/>
<br/>
"How the fuck would you know? You ever seen it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, no. Tell me about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you're right, it wouldn't be bad. But I don't wanna get in debt to my bro's parents. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
He swallows some more beer. You get the impression he's steeling himself to say something.<br/>
<br/>
It turns out he is. "How about a third option?" he says. "You move in with me."<br/>
<br/>
You almost drop your beer. "The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. We got an extra bedroom in my place. Uh, my mom -- " He looks around distractedly, as though searching for something. "She'd probably be interested in renting it out for fifty or a hundred bucks a month, and I think she'd like to have another guy in the house, especially one built like you." He flushes a little as he says this. "It's kind of a sketchy neighborhood, and if you were around -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, whoa! Wouldn't you have to ask her all this?" You know Caleb's mom, and you have a hard time imagining her renting her room out to a hulking athlete like Gordon Black just on her son's suggestion.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I would. But I won't if you don't want to."<br/>
<br/>
Well, you're not going to reject the idea out of hand. That would be rude. But the longer you delay answering, the more appeal you see in it. It would put you close to Caleb again. It would give you a real house and access to real food, if you paid for some of the groceries that got fixed at mealtime out of your salary. It would be another way of trying to get Caleb and "Gordon" close together.<br/>
<br/>
So you're not just trying to be diplomatic when you reply, "That's a real interesting idea, and I'd probably say yes except I don't know how I'd explain it to my friends."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean we're not friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"I meant how I'd explain it to Steve and Chelsea and them. I'm not even supposed to know you, how would I explain -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just say you saw an ad someplace. It's cheaper than an apartment, and you wouldn't have Chelsea trying to move in with you. And you don't want to sponge off Steve's folks, you said. It's perfect."<br/>
<br/>
Since he puts it like that: It is. If you can just delay giving the other guys a decision by a day or two, so you can pretend to have spotted some kind of ad --<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, alright," you say. "If you make up the ad and put it somewhere I can say I saw it."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. I'll talk to my mom tomorrow, and if she's okay with it I'll post something on -- Oh, I know, I'll put up a goofy fake ad on Pinterest. When you're with Chelsea, you can look around and find it on accident, supposedly. Then talk to me, and we'll set it up."<br/>
<br/>
It sounds like he's got it all figured out. "That's really generous of you, Johansson. Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. "Well, you're welcome," he says. "And it's not <i>that</i> generous of me. Because I know it's really you, Will."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It was Gordon's applying for the job at Salopek that exploded it. Up until then, you and Gordon almost had Caleb fooled into thinking that you'd ditched the masks. But he knew you too well to think you'd actually apply for that job.<br/>
<br/>
He and Gordon had it out earlier this evening, right after you'd left the school basement, when "Will" told him about what happened with Gordon's dad. Not that there was a confrontation, let alone a fight, because Caleb actually had to admit that Gordon had been a pretty good friend while pretending to be you. He assures you that, now that everything is out in the open, he's happier about having Gordon as part of your friendship circle. But he also has to admit that "happier" is a relative thing. "It's all gotten so complicated since we told him about the masks," he grumbles. "Remember when it was just you and me pretending to be each other?"<br/>
<br/>
"And you wanted to prank people with the masks," you remind him. "And you're the one who got the mask onto Gordon. Hell, you wanted to -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I know what I said, Will," he says. "Maybe it has worked out this way. Well, it's worked out for Gordon. I don't know about you." He glances around the loft.<br/>
<br/>
"But you're trying to help out there."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," he sighs, and sounds very pained and annoyed. "If we could do something about Gordon's dad, though -- "<br/>
<br/>
Your heart goes sideways in your chest. "Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
He catches the growl in your voice. "Like what kind of what?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, if we could fix it so he wasn't such a shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Like how would we do that?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you; then his face lengthens. "I wasn't talking about using the masks!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. You weren't?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! I mean, how would we do that anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
His expression turns thoughtful. "It's an interesting question, though, right? How <i>could</i> we -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
You're suddenly desperate to get him off the subject. "How was your date with Yumi?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Oh. It wasn't a date. I just talked about Eva with her." He shifts on his feet.<br/>
<br/>
"And got a copy of her into a mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, no," he says, sounding peevish. "I couldn't seem to manage it. And then I was thinking about you -- I mean, Gordon -- being out at Salopek. I bet they've got most of the stuff we need.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, you want him to steal it from my dad's work place?" <br/>
<br/>
"Or someone could. Maybe Gordon could? Once he figures out where the stuff is stored?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not doing it."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say <i>you</i> could, Will. Remember who you are, and who'd be sneaking into Salopek."<br/>
<br/>
You snort. "Did you float this suggestion past Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not. I said I'm <i>happier</i> about him being mixed up with us, I didn't say I was ecstatic about it. Or how about this, he uses the mask to copy someone who already works there, and uses that mask to get the stuff out."<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe Gordon can pay for the stuff out of his paycheck."<br/>
<br/>
"That'll take forever!"<br/>
<br/>
"You were talking earlier about giving up on the magic experiments!"<br/>
<br/>
"Then maybe we should," Caleb says, sounding very belligerent. "Get rid of the book, get rid of the masks, get rid of everything!"<br/>
<br/>
And maybe you'd be willing to do that.<br/>
<br/>
But you remember what you realized the last time Caleb suggested it: It would mean breaking off the friendship with Gordon.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122
author_id: seuzz
title: A Turn to the Future
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You glower at the floor and pull your temper -- Gordon's temper too -- back. "It's not just for us to decide," you tell Caleb. "Gordon gets a vote too."<br/>
<br/>
"Majority decides," says Caleb truculently.<br/>
<br/>
"Then we need Gordon to break the tie, 'cos I think we should keep experimenting."<br/>
<br/>
Now it's Caleb's turn to glare at the floor. He rubs his arm. Then he says "Psht." "We don't need to talk to Gordon," he says, looking up but not at you. "'Cos I'll go along with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Are we okay?" you ask, as he doesn't sound happy. "You and me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." He sounds genuinely puzzled. "Why wouldn't we be?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want you thinking that I'm picking Gordon over you or anything."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think that." But he looks you up and down, and his lips twitch slightly. "Except, look at you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you should try it out some time. Get to know Gordon a little better."<br/>
<br/>
"I did try it out, remember? I was the first one in that thing."<br/>
<br/>
"But without the memories."<br/>
<br/>
"And Gordon and me are fine. I'm not <i>jealous,</i> Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Because I really want to move in with you." You clap him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
You talk over the logistics of the move into his house -- how you'll "discover" Caleb's ad, and when -- and then Caleb leaves for the night. After that you text Patterson. He hasn't got anything new to say, just a renewal of the offer to let you use the spare room at his place. You put him off with a promise, that if you can't find something that suits you inside of a week, you'll accept his offer.<br/>
<br/>
Then you put on some lights, pull out homework, and try to forget your troubles in the comforts of familiar schoolwork.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Gordon doesn't often sleep in the gym loft, but he stays there enough that you don't feel strange when you wake there again. It's relatively early when you pry your eyes open, and there's time enough for you to take a fast cold shower, a jog, and then a longer, warmer shower before it's time for pre-class basketball practice. You text Chelsea, asking her if she can bring you some breakfast, and she shows up halfway through practice with a bulging paper sack. It contains two homemade egg-and-ham muffin sandwiches, which you wolf down on your way to first period.<br/>
<br/>
The day that follows occurs in a bit of a haze, for you have much on your mind, and your friends talk it over with you. Your longest talk is with Chelsea at lunch, which you take alone with her up in the loft again. (A real lunch this time, not a fuck session.) She is still very firm that you cannot live in the loft, and insists that she is willing to help support you if you will only find a small apartment someplace to live. You insist that won't be necessary, but you do promise that if you can't find an affordable place to live within a week, you'll give up and let her help you out. Of course, you don't think it will come to that, thanks to your plan to move into Caleb's house.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson treats you to dinner that night, and as he'd promised, Steve's father has an application for you for the part-time work at his supermarket. He assures you the application is just a formality, and that by the end of the week at the latest you'll be hired. You play some ball with Patterson and Lynch -- who drives over to Steve's after his own dinner -- then do your homework in Steve's study with him before returning to the gym for the night. There you text with Gordon and Caleb for a bit before turning in.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's the pattern for the rest of the week, until Friday, when all the threads come together for your -- that is, Gordon's -- new life. That morning Steve brings you word that you've been officially hired at the Eagle Foods store that Steve's dad manages; you'll have to go out on Saturday at ten in the morning for your first day. "Now we just have to get you moved in over the garage," Steve says.<br/>
<br/>
"I got a lead on a place I'm gonna check out first," you tell him. "Like I told you," you say when he raises an eyebrow, "getting a job through your dad is enough. I don't wanna depend too much on your family."<br/>
<br/>
The "lead," of course, is a room to rent at Caleb's place. Your friend has convinced the reluctant Mrs. Johansson to at least interview one of his schoolmates about renting the spare bedroom and taking meals with the family for a hundred dollars a week, and then set up a fake ad for you to show to Chelsea. She wants to go out to see it with you, but you firmly tell her that you want to see it on your own. "Anyway," you tell her, "it's not like you're going to be hanging out there, so it doesn't have to meet with your approval. We'll still have the loft."<br/>
<br/>
You dress up nice for the early evening meeting with Caleb's mom, who you know and like quite well. She's a soft-spoken woman, rather careworn from having to raise and support a son all by herself, but she's not unhappy. She is obviously surprised when she opens the door and finds that Caleb's "school friend" is a young giant. "How do you know Caleb?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"We've had classes together, done some school projects together," you tell her as you perch erectly in a chair in her living room with a ball cap on your knee. "To be honest," you say, glancing at Caleb himself, who is slumped but vibrating nervously in another chair, "I wouldn't say we're friends, exactly, just friendly. But I'm not looking to sponge off a friend, ma'am."<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure it was a good idea to introduce the idea of "sponging," which might not have otherwise occurred to Mrs. Johansson. But her lips compress when she asks her next question, which is why you need a place to stay.<br/>
<br/>
"It's on account of my father," you say, and search for some tactful phrases that won't be extremely untruthful. "He and my mother have separated -- unofficially -- and she's moved to be with her sister out of state. I can't go with her, but I can't stay with my dad on account of -- Well, the kind of things he does that made my mom leave him." You smile tightly.<br/>
<br/>
If she had doubts about you after hearing the word "sponging", you can tell those doubts have been replaced by sympathy. Caleb's own father disappeared a long time ago, and it wasn't the result of a fatality.<br/>
<br/>
You talk about your schedule and all the extracurricular activities that will keep you busy from early in the morning until late in the afternoon, and on weekends, so that you mostly only need a room to crash in. Your "rent" would also cover a share of evening meals, and you explain that you are quite used to fixing meals for yourself, so that once your work schedule is settled, you wouldn't mind helping out by taking on meal prep duties a couple of times a week. By the end of the interview you can tell you've scored a success, and with a sigh of surprise Mrs. Johansson agrees to let you move in for the agreed-upon sum.<br/>
<br/>
"This is awesome," your new roommate exclaims when you're outside afterward. "Really, I didn't think we'd swing it, but you really came through." <br/>
<br/>
"Gordon came through," you reply. "I know we're always giving him shit about being asshole, but he can be polite when you have to be. At any rate, his dad drilled the 'sirs' and 'ma'ams' into him good."<br/>
<br/>
"Just don't make me look bad, okay," he says. "Three times this week she's yelled at me 'cos of my room's a mess, and I haven't done anything about it yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Ooh! Now I know how to suck up to your mom. I can <i>make</i> you do what she says." You grab him in a headlock, and when you get bored of his struggles -- for  he has no hope of getting away -- you hurl him onto the grass. "Jesus, maybe we should do something about your other bad habits. You should start running in the morning, do some weights with me."<br/>
<br/>
He's saved from having to reply by text: Will Prescott, asking if you're done at Caleb's and can meet with him. So you grab Caleb up by the neck again and haul him over to his car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I ran some numbers based on my paycheck," Will says, then stops to stare at you. "What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," you say. But you're lying.<br/>
<br/>
You're in his bedroom -- your old bedroom -- and it gives you a creepy feeling of deja vu to be back here. It is old to your eyes, but new to Gordon's; it is instantly your own again, but made strange by your absence. It is homey, but feels cramped. "Nothing," you repeat. "Go on."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I did some estimating," Will says, and glances between you and Caleb. "It's gonna be two weeks before I get paid, and taxes and withholding are going to eat it to nothing. I know we talked about me paying for the new supplies, but we'll have a long wait if I do."<br/>
<br/>
So Caleb had warned you. And it leaves you with three possibilities. <br/>
<br/>
The first is to wait until money has been patiently saved up. The second is for Will to snoop around and try to steal some supplies from Salopek. The third is to try once again to copy someone into a mask, and to use an alias to steal some money.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223
author_id: seuzz
title: Moving In and Moving Forward
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You figure that Gordon wouldn't have called this meeting if he was willing to wait until he'd saved up money from his paycheck; and you remember Caleb earlier in the week sounded pretty impatient to get on with things. It's dangerous to try stealing stuff from Salopek. So -- "Who do we know who's got money we can steal," you ask. "Or borrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, let's call it borrowing," Caleb mutters. He shifts restlessly next to you on the bed.<br/>
<br/>
"So who do we know? Except for Eva and Jessica Garner. And Yumi Saito. Unless you wanna try for one of them again."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess we could," Caleb says, and he says it very glumly.<br/>
<br/>
"I could try lifting the stuff out of Salokpek," says the guy who looks like Will Prescott. He's been watching you and Caleb intently all this time. "Assuming they have it in stock."<br/>
<br/>
"That's pretty dangerous," you say. "You just got a job there, and if you get caught -- " You were going to say something about how it would make Harris Prescott incandescent with fury, but you get hung up on whether to call him "my dad" or "your dad." Both sound weird in the present context.<br/>
<br/>
But Gordon catches your meaning. "So I guess that means we, uh, borrow some." He cocks his head, and his face curls up in an expression that is probably meant to be thoughtful, but which looks sardonic. "If you do that, you know, it's probably going to be <i>your</i> job to get the mask," he tells you.<br/>
<br/>
"Why mine?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, look at you."<br/>
<br/>
You snort. "You could always take off that mask you're wearing, asshole." And since you're brave enough to call him an asshole -- though not meant seriously -- you continue with a provocative question. "And speaking of taking off that mask, when are you going to want your life back?"<br/>
<br/>
"You want <i>yours</i> back now," he retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Not with the job at Salopek."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll quit!"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't quit, er, Will," says Caleb, and he refrains from looking at either of so it's not clear who he's talking to, so it's probably to both of you. "You just got hired. Your dad would be <i>really</i> pissed if you did that."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, if you want me to keep doing this for you, I will," you tell Gordon, in as friendly a tone as you can manage. "You just have to ask for it back."<br/>
<br/>
"So do you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Christ," Caleb says. "I'm going downstairs to get a soda, give you a chance to make out." He struggles off the bed. "Just have your clothes back on when I get back." He exits.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we could switch off on weekends," Will suggests when he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Give you time with Chelsea," you agree. "Oh, shit, but I work weekends. I mean, you do." You slap your thigh impatiently. "I mean, that job at the supermarket. Starts tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll play it by ear," Will says, and squirms in his chair. He hunches. "If Chelsea talks about getting affectionate some night, maybe you could call me and we switch off then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sure." A long, awkward pause ensues. "You had any luck finding a new girlfriend?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He opens his mouth, but before he can speak there's thumping in the hall, and Caleb bangs on the door. "You guys decent?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up and get in here," you and Will shout back, almost in unison.<br/>
<br/>
So Caleb comes in. "Hey, I don't mean to bust things up, but my mom just texted and told me to stop by the store and then come home." He nods at you. "You staying here, coming with me, or going up to the loft?"<br/>
<br/>
You exchange a surprised glance with Will, then get up. "I should go, if we're not going to figure anything out tonight." You pause in the doorway. "Um, if you're not busy tomorrow, can you make a new mask, so we'll have one ready to use."<br/>
<br/>
"You've got the book."<br/>
<br/>
That's right. As the possessor of Gordon Black's body, you get to possess the book. "I'll drop it off at Caleb's tomorrow, on my way in to work. In fact, if it's all right with you and your mom," you tell Caleb, "me and Steve and Jason will bring my shit over to your house tomorrow when I get off."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb says he'll text you if something would prevent that, then he takes you back to his place so you can pick up your car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Both Steve and his father are on hand to greet you at the Eagle Foods supermarket when you arrive there a little before ten the next morning. It's an eight-hour-a-day job for both Saturdays and Sundays, and for a pay that will barely cover the money you'll owe to Mrs. Johansson, but you're glad to have it. Steve is startled when you tell him you've found a place to live, but says he'll help you make the move tonight.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the day at the store begins with you filling out paperwork, getting some packets of information, and a brief orientation. Then you're thrown into an on-the-job training session with the experienced staff, including the equivalent of a scavenger hunt to help you familiarize yourself with the layout and contents of the store. They're a good bunch of workers -- and among those of high-school age, you prove to be something a minor celebrity on account of your status with the Westside basketball squad -- and only once are you led around on something of a snipe hunt.<br/>
<br/>
With the one-hour lunch break, you get off at seven o'clock, and you meet Steve and Jason up at the school. They're both very curious about this place that you've found, since you've only told them you're renting a room from someone at school. "Four  hundred a month is pretty steep for only a room," says Steve skeptically. "You could get a studio apartment for less than that."<br/>
<br/>
"I get meals with it too," you reply, which provokes an "Ah" from him. "Anyway, we'll see how it works out. I never heard of the guy before, but he goes to school with us. Name's Caleb Johansson."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson hefts a box of your stuff onto his shoulder. "I've heard the name, but I don't think I could put a face to it."<br/>
<br/>
You're actually kind of dreading the introductions you'll have to make at Caleb's. You don't think Lynch or Patterson will be less than polite to Caleb or his mom, but you expect to get a lot of shit from them when they see him; and you worry about putting him on their radar. That is one aspect of Caleb's plan that hadn't occurred to you.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it hadn't occurred to Caleb either, because he's put a very obvious "brave" face on it when he comes out the door after your small caravan pulls up at the curb in front of his house. Out of the corner of your eye you catch Patterson staring at him thoughtfully, but he doesn't say anything. Caleb's mom comes out a moment later, and she's the one who directs the three of you down the hall to your new room, and she seems pretty impressed by the height and brawn of the guys who are moving heavy things into her house: you and Steve both have to duck your heads to get through doorways, for instance. Steve says nothing to either her or to Caleb, and addresses all of his comments to you in a stony voice. Lynch, you're pleased and relieved to see, is scrupulously polite, calling Mrs. Johansson "ma'am" with a ready smile and complimenting her on the furniture, some of the pictures, and the overall tidiness of the house. Even to Caleb he is very polite, and uses words like "please" and "thanks mightily" when he helps Lynch with a few ungainly items.<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't take long to get stuff moved in, and your landlady gives everyone colas afterward; there is some chitchat in the kitchen. Then you follow Patterson and Lynch back out to the latter's truck.<br/>
<br/>
Lynch sniggers when you're well away from the house. "Jesus, Gordon, I can't believe you're serious about rooming with that -- " He sniggers again, harder.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson gives him a freezing stare. "Why, you fucking little two-faced prick."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh I didn't mean anything by it," Lynch says, backpedaling furiously after seeing both Patterson's face and yours. "I just mean, you know, that's the kind of guy I picture you, uh -- "<br/>
<br/>
"It's a nice place," says Steve, though his tone is lukewarm. "I see why you like it."<br/>
<br/>
"You know the guy? Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know who he is. He's in my Physics class." Patterson's jaw works. "He's friends with Ioeger and Lamont." He looks at you sideways.<br/>
<br/>
You'd forgotten that angle. You turn to stare back at the house, then kick the side of Jason's car with your knee. "Fuck."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Gonna be interesting for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck. Well, mostly I'm just gonna be sleeping there and eating there, so maybe it'll be okay. But I don't want either of you two fuckers making trouble for me by making trouble with Johansson, okay?" You say that with enough heat that Lynch blanches a little, though Patterson keeps cool. "You see him in the halls or around, you ignore him."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch nods, but Patterson snorts. "Do you think I'd fucking take two steps out of my way to even look at him?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"No I don't."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson's denial startles you. But you let it pass. "Well, just make sure you don't start anything with him. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
Steve shrugs contemptuously, then he and Jason drive off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You got a text while you were moving in, from Steve's dad, telling you he's told your dad of what you're doing and where you're living, which is nice of him. Caleb's got news of his own when you're inside. "Gordon says he thinks he knows how we can get stuff out of Salopek," he tells you. "He works there with a guy named Sean Mitchell, thinks we can use a mask of him. Personally," he adds when you say nothing, "I think we should use a mask of Lynch."<br/>
<br/>
But you're quiet, because you're thinking Gordon's dad would be ripe for robbing.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232
author_id: seuzz
title: Everyone Has to Adjust Sometime
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Lynch, huh? You mention that idea to Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting on the edge of your rented bed, surrounded by the boxes of crap that you brought over from the loft. It feels strange in lots of ways to be here: Moving in with Caleb with Gordon Black's stuff, and inside Gordon Black's body. There flashes through your head a brief vision of Chelsea sharing the space with you, and deep in your viscera a little grunt erupts like a burp. "What?" you say.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb -- who is leaning against a warped dresser -- leans forward to wave his hand in front of your face. "Hey, don't space out on me. Basically, I said that I'm not gonna propose anything to Gordon without running it by you first."<br/>
<br/>
"That's nice, man, but since when do you clear things with me first?"<br/>
<br/>
His lips compress into an exasperated grimace. Then it hits you why he'd run idea past you first.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Yeah." You scratch the back of your neck. "Well, I dunno what he'd say. He's always borrowing stuff off Lynch and not paying it back, but this is taking it to a whole other level."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have any ideas? This Sean Mitchell guy -- "<br/>
<br/>
"We're not doing that," you say firmly. "It's too risky."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb rolls his eyes. "Then I guess we'll steal it from Lynch."<br/>
<br/>
"No, wait a minute." You snap your fingers. "We really will just borrow it from Lynch. Here, we'll use Lynch's face and ATM card to get the money from his account, but we'll save up from Gordon's paycheck and deposit it all back again in a few weeks. That way Lynch isn't out any money in the long run, but we still get the money we need and we get it fast. How much do we need?"<br/>
<br/>
"A couple of hundred. But is Gordon going to be okay with stealing Lynch's face?"<br/>
<br/>
"Only thing to do is ask."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You call Gordon at your place and meet him at the elementary school. He's not enthusiastic about using Lynch, but he agrees it's safer than stealing anything out of Salopek, with or without a mask of this Sean Mitchell guy. He and Caleb agree to make up a new mask on Sunday and give it to you to use on Lynch when you get a chance.<br/>
<br/>
You wake early on Sunday morning and go for a run, then shower. Gordon's long-drilled instinct for tidiness serves you well at the Johansson household, for you quickly clean up after yourself in the bathroom, the kitchen, and everywhere else you go. Then at ten o'clock you're at the supermarket for a day's work. It's not aerobic work, or athletic work, and it's not weight training, but you reflect that it does keep you active and goes a little ways toward maintaining your stamina, which is more than could be said about lounging around in the loft as Gordon does most Sundays with his friends.<br/>
<br/>
Steve shows up just before quitting time, and he and his dad invite you over to their place for pizza, and you accept. You get in a little court time with Steve in their darkened driveway, and scarf down most of a bacon-and-peppers-and-pineapple pizza all by yourself. You watch some TV with them. By nine-thirty, though, you tell them that you have to go. "You got a curfew at your new place?" Patterson scoffs.<br/>
<br/>
"No, but I don't wanna bust in after the lights are out. I like it there, and I don't wanna cause friction."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't wanna cause friction when you were living with your dad. And you'd have more fun here with me."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't push me, Steve. I'd feel bad about rooming with you."<br/>
<br/>
"It wouldn't be a big deal."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, but it'd feel that way anyway. I like it over where I am, and I'm not gonna see any less of you than I did before."<br/>
<br/>
"Except on weekends," he says stonily.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't help that. Just don't kill Lynch. You didn't, did you? What did you do with him today?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. I didn't go up there, and he didn't talk to me. We're gonna stop using that place, aren't we?" he adds grumpily.<br/>
<br/>
"We're not gonna -- Shit, I forgot to call Chelsea." You take out your cell. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Tomorrow, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you're gonna be at school." You clap and clasp hands, and he returns to his house. You get in the Bug and call your girlfriend. You have to exhale and shift in your seat to accommodate the erection at the realization: Chelsea Cooper is your girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And she's starting to act like her old self. "I didn't hear from you today," she says plaintively.<br/>
<br/>
"I was at work from ten o'clock, and they're not gonna like it if I take out my phone while I'm at work. It's not like I'm at <i>school</i> and can just pull it out."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't they give you any breaks?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah, but -- "<br/>
<br/>
"And did you just get off? Just now?"<br/>
<br/>
You get that tense feeling in your chest that Gordon always gets when he's about to have a bad fight with Chelsea. "Steve's dad, at quitting time, he asked me home to eat with them. So I did, I was with him and his family all evening."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." That's all she says. <i>Oh.</i> But it might as well be a 25,000-word Wikipedia article on the subject of "Black, Gordon; faults and derelictions regarding his girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"I can see you tomorrow. In fact, I can pick you up. Where I'm living now, I'm closer to you than I was before."<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be nice," she says coolly. "The usual time?" You grunt an affirmative. "Yeah, I'd like that. I want to see and hold and squeeze my pookie bear."<br/>
<br/>
You let out your breath as you hang up, not out of desire, but out of relief at dodging a quarrel.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you tense again when you pull up at the Johansson house. It's not on account of it being nearly ten o'clock that you feel tight bands around your chest, for despite what you implied to Patterson, you don't really have anything resembling a curfew with your friend's mom. She herself is rarely in bed before eleven-thirty, and she told you point blank that she wouldn't mind you coming in after hours. But you'd diplomatically replied that if you ever got back and saw the lights were out, you knew of a place you could crash so that you didn't bother anyone by returning.<br/>
<br/>
No, you're suddenly nervous again because Will Prescott's truck is parked in front of the house. You hadn't got a text from your friends, so this feels like an ambush. And they might be in a bad mood if they've been expecting you to show up since seven.<br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Johansson greets you from the living room and genially inquires about your day. You sit on the edge of the chair across from her and tell her it was nice; and you ask her about yours. For five minutes you chat in this very dainty way, like a couple of old ladies, when from down the hall a door bangs open and Caleb hops into the room. His eyes light up when he sees you. "Yo! Will!" he hollers. "Gordon's here!"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't yell," his mother chides him; he half-shrugs apologetically, and his mom casts you a half-embarrassed glance.<br/>
<br/>
Another figure comes springing down the hall: in cargo shorts, t-shirt, sneakers and a ball cap it's the straw-headed scarecrow called Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
It gives you kind of a bad turn to see him, even though this is about the dozenth time you've seen him since doing the switch with Gordon. But it's nearly the first where you've seen him with others around and the imposter has to pretend to be you. It tears at you with gnarled claws: the sense that your identity has been ripped from you, and that Gordon's mask is only a bandage to cover the wound.<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't help that Prescott's eyes twinkle brightly over his crooked grin. "Hey, there you are," he says. "Only, like, finally." He stumbles awkwardly on his feet and pitches sideways into Caleb, who shoves him back.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Have you been waiting for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever," he says, and his bony shoulders twitch. "I told Caleb he was full of -- uh -- <i>crap</i> -- when he said you'd moved in with him."<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna see my room?"<br/>
<br/>
His grin goes lopsided. "I seen it already. I just don't believe it."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll show it to you anyway. Good night, Mrs. Johansson." You're not sure, but you think you catch Prescott snorting out an asthmatic laugh and murmuring a sarcastic "Good night, Mrs. Johansson" under his breath.<br/>
<br/>
Your two friends precede you down the hall and into your bedroom, which you had unpacked and neatly made up the night before. "Lookit this," Prescott jeers as he picks up the old toy fire truck. "He has a fire engine." He drops it nervously when you shut the door. "I'm just jerking your chain, man," he says, and his eyes dart nervously.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You lower yourself into the chair in the corner. "So what were you guys doing? I'm sorry I'm late."<br/>
<br/>
"Late for what?" asks Caleb. "We were just goofing around, playing games -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Sucking each other off." Will makes a slurping noise and grins at Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God," you say. "Not really, were you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Jesus. What about you? You just back from Chelsea's?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, Steve's."<br/>
<br/>
Prescott laughs. "Were you sucking <i>him</i> off?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help swallowing, and look at Caleb. "Is he okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's just being <i>you,</i> Will," Caleb says quietly. "Oh, and we got the mask done." He opens the bottom drawer of the dresser, and takes out a bluish-white mask. "We're still aiming for Lynch, if you're okay with that," he continues, and Will nods casually. "I s'pose the question now is, who puts it on to get the money out?"<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323
author_id: seuzz
title: Mugging a Friend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Do we have to decide this now?" you ask. "Tomorrow's probably the earliest that I can -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I think we kinda do have to talk about it," says Will. "'Cos I got work after school and you've got practice, so if one of us is going to use the mask we have to take that into account."<br/>
<br/>
Well, that makes sense. You'd like to get the thing done quickly, so you end up looking at Caleb. "Looks like you're volunteered."<br/>
<br/>
He groans. "Why me? I don't wanna get inside that psychotic little -- "<br/>
<br/>
He freezes and goes white all over. He looks around. Clearly he has just realized he's surrounded by people who are either pretending to be Jason Lynch's best friend, or actually <i>are</i> Jason Lynch's best friend.<br/>
<br/>
"He just plays rough, Johansson," you say. "I'll give it to you sometime at school, after I've got it -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have any clothes that'll fit!" Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"Neither do I," you calmly return.<br/>
<br/>
"Me neither," says Will, who is obviously enjoying Caleb's discomfort. "Anyway, you just need something floppy. Hell, you don't even need that. You just need his card and a drive-through ATM. You don't even gotta wear pants for that. Hell, not even a shirt." He slaps Caleb in the chest. "Lynch is just the kind to drive around shirtless."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God!" Caleb cries. "I'm not gonna drive around town with my -- " He pales even further, which would hardly seem possible. "I'm gonna have Jason Lynch's wang hanging down between my legs!"<br/>
<br/>
You and Will look at each other. "If you're gonna be such a fucking drama queen about it, Johansson," you start to say.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright! I'll do it." He hurls himself onto the bed; then, realizing where he is, he gets up more gingerly from it. "I'm only doing this, you know, because we need the money and because I'm intellectually -- intellectually! -- curious. Not because I want to -- " He shudders all over, elaborately. <br/>
<br/>
That settles the topic at hand, and after some more light-hearted badinage about this and that, Prescott leaves when it's close to eleven. Caleb also excuses himself, but only to the bathroom so he can start preparing for bed.<br/>
<br/>
You perform your own nightly rituals shortly after that, and the whole time you lightly puzzle over what Caleb said: "I'm not doing this because -- " Well, obviously he meant he wasn't interested in pretending to be Jason Lynch. You're not sure you'd like to pretend to be Lynch. Even with his friends he is oily and insincere and unpleasant.<br/>
<br/>
But what is he implying about you and Gordon? Are you playing with the masks because you like to pretend to be each other?<br/>
<br/>
It hasn't exactly been fun pretending to be Gordon. Look at where you are now, and how you got here. Even the benefits -- like having Chelsea Cooper as a girlfriend -- come with some pretty heavy costs. And if Caleb challenged you, you're pretty sure you'd tell him (and you probably wouldn't be lying) that you're only pretending to be Gordon because Gordon is pretending to be you.<br/>
<br/>
And why is Gordon interested in pretending to be you? It can't be on account of your having such a wonderful life. In fact, he found your life so boring and tedious that he applied for and accepted a job that you'd been ferociously resisting. It must be that he's hanging on to your life for the same reason you'd willingly give up his: because whatever else can be said about the life of Will Prescott, at least it's better than the life of Gordon Black.<br/>
<br/>
Except his life is better now; you've seen to that. So will he be taking it back soon? That was a sort-of bargain that you struck, wasn't it? That you'd try to fix up each other lives? And now that his is in a better shape -- Well, how happy would you be to give it back?<br/>
<br/>
You're in bed by now, and you turn over onto your other side restlessly. It's gonna be damn awkward finding a way to relieve nightly tensions in a new place, especially with memories of Chelsea to engorge you. You bite on your lower lip as one memory in particular comes back. <br/>
<br/>
Gordon also said something about getting a girlfriend, now that <i>that</i> subject is on your mind. Maybe that's what he's waiting for, or will wait for? A chance to fix "Will Prescott" up with someone? That would be nice, you guess; the hard part for you, it's always seemed when you imagine it, has always been the asking and the small talk on the first few dates. If Gordon could get you past that, the way you got Caleb past that with Eva -- though the fucker never followed up on it -- <br/>
<br/>
Drowsily you drift off with these thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So when are you going to have me out there?" Chelsea asks. It's the next morning, and she's trying to settle into the passenger seat of the Bug. She's got that vexed, finicky look she always gets when she's in the car with you, because no matter what she pretends, she clearly hates it and hates touching it. "To your new place, I mean. Can we drive past it on the way to school?"<br/>
<br/>
"You won't like it, Chels."<br/>
<br/>
"Who says? Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's in a cheap part of town, and the woman who's renting me the room is letting me have it cheap because she needs the money."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea clucks her tongue. "Which is why we should find you a new place. I told you, pookie, that I'll -- "<br/>
<br/>
You gun the engine and the Bug leaps forward into the busy street. "I like where I found, Chels," you tell her firmly. "I like the lady and I like the place, and I don't need you telling me it's crap and I need to move."<br/>
<br/>
"But where are we going to hang out?" She pouts.<br/>
<br/>
"We've got the loft, we've got your place -- "<br/>
<br/>
"But your place -- "<br/>
<br/>
"We couldn't hang out at my place when I was living at my dad's, so nothing's hardly changed."<br/>
<br/>
"Except you have to work now. I missed you over the weekend." She puts her arm in yours and snuggles close. "I needed my pookie bear."<br/>
<br/>
A thrill races over every square centimeter of your skin, and you sit up straight in your seat as your cock unfurls. "Your pookie bear needed you too, believe me." You pull to a stop at the traffic backed up at a light, and seize the chance to lean over and nip at her ear. "Today, after school -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Steve will want to see you," she sighs. "And Jason. Like yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll see them at practice. I want to see <i>you.</i>" You clasp her thigh, but it's encased in denim. "Come on. After practice I'll come up from the showers in a towel, and -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I just wish you'd consulted me a little more before moving into this place. Didn't you say it belongs to someone we go to school with?"<br/>
<br/>
"She doesn't work at Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean her kid. It's a guy, isn't it?" she asks doubtfully. "Jesus, Gordon, you didn't -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Of course it's a guy! No way I'd be able to rent a room at a place where -- "<br/>
<br/>
"And he goes to Westside? Who is it?"<br/>
<br/>
You've been tensing all over as you tried dodging these questions, and now you're practically rigid. "No one you've heard of, I'm sure. Name's Johansson. Caleb, I think."<br/>
<br/>
You've got a road to watch, which is a good reason not to glance over at her. But your ears definitely pick up on the silence. When you reach another light, you look over at her. Chelsea has her arms folded and his staring straight ahead with a thoughtful expression. "Trying to remember who he is?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I know who he is," she says in a very neutral tone. "Interesting."<br/>
<br/>
"No he's not." You lean in for another kiss, but she pulls back. "I barely talked to him, and he's <i>not</i> -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say <i>he</i> was. I said the situation was interesting. Which it is. And I'm getting a headache." She covers her mouth and nose with both hands. "The <i>fumes</i> in this thing," she says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
All in all, it's the start to a very typical day for Gordon Black, from the narrowly averted fight with Chelsea to the brutal basketball session. You grow increasingly nervous as third period approaches, because that's when you plan to copy Lynch into a mask, and you're not sure how you'll handle that.<br/>
<br/>
In the event, Gordon's own bluff instincts take over. When Lynch meets you in the loft, you wait until his back is turned, then wrap one massive arm around his chest and with a meaty hand press the blank mask to his face. Then you wait patiently for it to reappear, and stow it with your gear. You take a meandering trip downstairs for a soda from a machine, watch a few cute sophomore girls go running down the hall, then mosey back to the loft in time to find Lynch sitting up with a confused expression on his face. You ask if he thinks you're boring, since he fell asleep almost as soon as he showed up in the loft. He spends the rest of the period with a stricken expression on his face, but never accuses you of doing anything to him, and naturally you pretend nothing happened. You pass the mask -- in a paper sack -- to Caleb just before sixth period.<br/>
<br/>
You think that'll be the end of it until you can see him at his house for dinner. But right after practice ends, you check your cell and find three frantic text messages from Caleb. He begs your help, but he won't tell you what the problem is.<br/>
<br/>
You're puzzling over this when you come out of the changing room -- still wet from the shower -- to find Chelsea cooling her heels on the gym floor.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232
author_id: seuzz
title: Masking Problems
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It comes back to you when you see Chelsea: On the drive to school, you asked her to hang out with you in the loft after practice. <br/>
<br/>
Well, here she is, and she would <i>not</i> be happy if you said you'd changed your mind.<br/>
<br/>
So you toss Caleb and his problem to the side. Maybe Gordon can help him out.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I didn't think you'd be here," you tell Chelsea as you take her hands in yours. "I didn't see you in the stands during practice."<br/>
<br/>
"I went home and came back," she says. "Special for you." It sounds sweet, but her tone is slightly guarded, and her gaze is watchful. "I'm thinking of throwing a party on Friday. You know, to celebrate, um, stuff."<br/>
<br/>
Your stomach plunges, but you cover it with a shrug. "Sure, sounds great. How many people?"<br/>
<br/>
"The usual. As many as can fit in my house. It's not like we can throw it at your new place." You bridle a little at the comment, and really stiffen at what she says next. "You can invite your new roommate to come out. What was his name?"<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb. Um, I'm not sure he'd be interested."<br/>
<br/>
"Jeez, Gordon, you're not <i>ashamed</i> of him, are you?" she says, sounding shocked.<br/>
<br/>
"No! It's just, well -- "<br/>
<br/>
You break off, completely flummoxed. You cannot see Caleb Johansson at any party that Chelsea would organize, because you've Gordon's memories of those parties. They are dominated by the basketball and cheerleading squads, with assorted representatives of other varsity sports and salted with a couple of the "cool" kids. Caleb doesn't fit into any of those classifications.<br/>
<br/>
Then you realize: She's trying to maneuver you into admitting that Caleb is totally not your -- that is, not Gordon's -- kind of friend. You can think of only one excuse for not inviting Caleb out to the party: that he's friends with Carson Ioeger and James Lamont, which would put him completely athwart Steve and Jason ... and you. But that's something you can't admit either.<br/>
<br/>
So there's only one thing to say: "I'll talk to him about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Great," Chelsea says, and dimples. "And get him to bring some of his own friends out. You know, the parties lately have seemed kind of, well, boring. It's all the same people. We need to mix things up a little more! Thanks, pookie!" She hugs you lightly, and looks up into your face with a hungry expression. "Wanna go upstairs and -- ?" She giggles and rubs her face in your chest.<br/>
<br/>
It's like an electric shock to your cock, and all thoughts of abandoning her to go help Caleb instantly vaporize.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a quarter after six, and Chelsea has long gone home after sucking you off when you sit up stiffly and begin pulling your clothes back on, one piece at a time. The pleasures of the afternoon -- lots of kissing and touching and probing and biting, and pinching and licking and sucking and cuming -- have drained away to be replaced by a gloomy guilt about ignoring Caleb's texts. You really hope now that it's not a serious issue.<br/>
<br/>
With gritted teeth you look at your cell. The texts are old and cold now, and no new ones have come in. You tap in a lying reply: <i>sorry just saw ur texts now where r u?</i> You pull on your shoes, lock up the loft and trudge down to the parking lot. It's there that the reply comes: <i>home its ok</i>. Well, that's a relief, but you can't tell from the text if Caleb is pissed at you. You have an aching feeling of dread all the way back to his place. It's a milder kind of the dread Gordon often felt when driving back home to confront his dad.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb meets you in front of his house, coming out the door with his backpack as you're getting out of the Bug. His brow is furrowed, but he doesn't look angry. In fact, he barely looks at you. "Come on," he says. "We're meeting, uh, Will down at the school."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing's wrong, we just need to talk."<br/>
<br/>
"What was the emergency? Are you sure you're okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine." He gets in his car, and you trot around to get in on the passenger side. "I just had some trouble with the mask." That's the first he looks at you, with a sidelong glance whose meaning you can't make out.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart sinks with renewed dread. Did you fuck up when making it? "What's wrong with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, you check it." He unzips his pack and roots around inside it while turning on the car. "It turned me into Lynch, but I didn't get any of the memories."<br/>
<br/>
This surprises, even shocks you, and you give the mask a very worried examination. But it looks like it's done perfectly. The finish is smooth and free of any streaks or flaws, and Jason's name is inscribed in those weird, floating letters on the inside of the mask. You ask Caleb what happened when he put it on.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"That's the way it's supposed to work," Will says to Caleb. He looks at you for confirmation. "Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you're supposed to get the memories. The personality, too," you reply. "That's the whole point of putting those metal bands in, it's how come you and me -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, it takes awhile for them to come," Will says impatiently. "You don't get 'em right away. Fuck, it was like eight, twelve hours before I got a full set."<br/>
<br/>
Your trio is sitting in the basement of the school. Caleb is looking bloodless and pale. Will is perched on a desk and swinging a leg carelessly back and forth. You're leaning against a bookcase with your arms folded. Everything you've heard since meeting with Caleb has bewildered you, and even frightened you a little.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb told you -- and recounted to Gordon -- that the mask worked perfectly for him when he came out to the basement after school and put it on. At least, it worked perfectly as far as turning him into Lynch's duplicate. "Did you know he has the tiniest cock," Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
You ignored that gibe, and Will pushed him to continue his tale. "Nothing more to say," Caleb said. "I sat around and tried to think of his PIN number. Then I tried to think of where his bank was. And what he drove. And where he lived and what his school schedule was. I couldn't get any of it, none of it. It was like there was nothing upstairs." He banged the side of his head. "So I texted, uh, Will to come out and help me, but -- Where were you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Practice. Then Chelsea showed up." You dodged the face of her real boyfriend. "Took me awhile before I could check my cell. Why didn't you text -- ? Oh, right." The other guy he could have texted was working at Salopek. <br/>
<br/>
That's when Will, who didn't look nearly as puzzled or alarmed as you felt, started talking about how natural it was. "I told you it would take awhile to get the memories and stuff. I was kind of expecting it would be tonight before we could get out to an ATM." He snorted. "Of course, you took the mask off and spoiled everything now."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's jaw fell a little, and he protested that he couldn't go around wearing Jason Lynch's face for most of the evening. Will shrugged and repeated that it was supposed to work that way, and looked at you as though you'd confirm it.<br/>
<br/>
"That's not the way it worked for me," you say cautiously. "I got your memories and stuff almost instantly."<br/>
<br/>
Will blinks. "Really?" He looks unfazed when you nod. "I think you're exaggerating," he says. "You didn't get them that fast. Or I dunno, maybe I'm exaggerating and I got yours a lot faster than I remember. I do remember there was a pretty big gap where for a long time I thought the mask wasn't working because I wasn't getting any memories."<br/>
<br/>
You're about to protest that you're not exaggerating, but Caleb jumps in to repeat what he said earlier. "So how am I supposed to get into Lynch's bank account? I can't spend all day wearing his mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure you can," says Will, and inside his waspish whine you can hear a strong echo of the original Gordon Black's personality. "You just keep your fucking face out of sight."<br/>
<br/>
"How?" Caleb demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ! Spend the night here. Tell your mom you're spending the night with me, and spend the night here with Jason's mask on. When you wake up the next morning you'll definitely have his memories. I definitely had Prescott's when I woke up after my first night in his mask." His eyes are cold -- not unfriendly, but cold -- when he looks at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't go to school as Lynch," Caleb whines. "And when I take the mask off I'll lose it!"<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you think Will's going to throw something at his head. "So write it all down! Jesus! That's all you need, is his fucking PIN number and where he banks. Write it down when you wake up, then take the fucking mask off and go to school! You're trying to make this a problem, Johansson, and it's not. Tomorrow afternoon you'll put the mask back on and use the numbers you wrote down to get into his account."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb tenses under this barrage, and it looks like he's biting his tongue. But after a moment he relents. "Alright, that's the way I'll do it. In fact I'll call my mom now to say I'm staying at your place."<br/>
<br/>
"You have to give me a ride back," you remind him. He grunts.<br/>
<br/>
"I can give you a ride," Will says, and hops to his feet.<br/>
<br/>
You get that sense of dread again. He's got business to talk over with you, it sounds like.<br/>
<br/>
But you've got business of your own for them. Right? Chelsea's invitation to that party?<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321
author_id: seuzz
title: The Complexity of Social Lives Not Your Own
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I need to drive my car back <i>and</i> pick up my sleeping bag," Caleb says. He doesn't sound happy.<br/>
<br/>
That makes the logistics of getting back to his place complicated, and you wind up riding with Caleb rather than with Gordon, but the topic is still relevant: "Chelsea's throwing a party on Friday," you tell him once you're on the road.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" he says. "That'll be just another all-kinds-of-awesome thing for you then, won't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"She wants me to invite you to it," you continue. "Caleb Johansson and all his friends."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb almost drives off the road. "You told her no, didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to tell you first," you say. "Actually, I told her I'd talk to you about it. Don't you want to go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eva will be there."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God," he groans.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you haven't done anything about her, have you? I guess that's a good enough reason for you not to go. It'd be really awkward if you showed up and she was there and you had to figure out what to -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you can shut up now. I'm not going."<br/>
<br/>
"And Steve and Jason would be there. You know, Steve mentioned to me that he's got you in a class."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Physics."<br/>
<br/>
"And he mentioned you're friends with Ioeger and Lamont. He and Gordon and Jason don't like those two guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm."<br/>
<br/>
"And Javits will be there. If you're gonna bring your friends to her party, you're gonna bring Keith, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said I'm not going! Jesus, why are you trying to convince me not to do something I've already told you I'm not going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just don't want you to be jealous because I'm going."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not jealous. I hope you have fun."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I will." You stare at the passing scenery -- convenience stores and strip centers. "I don't think Gordon has a lot of fun at those things."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. I'm getting a headache just thinking about it. The party, I mean." It all crystalizes into a thought. "You wanna wear Gordon's mask, go to it for me?"<br/>
<br/>
Again, the car jerks in the lane. "Why would I want to do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why wouldn't you? Get a chance to put your arm around Chelsea, hang out with the big guys, be the big dog of the school but not actually <i>in</i> school." You settle back. "Get to know Gordon a little better, from the inside. You and him are getting along pretty good these days, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's okay. When he's acting like you. Except it's kind of creepy 'cos I know it's not you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, talk to him about doing it."<br/>
<br/>
"How about <i>you</i> talk to him about doing it? You talk like you guys are really close."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Gordon has followed you back to Caleb's place, and after Caleb has packed up his stuff for the night he and Will drive off. But first Gordon takes you aside and asks to meet up with you someplace to eat after he's dropped off Caleb at the school. "I'll buy," he says. You wind up at a Dairy Queen a few blocks from Caleb's house, where you can eat a burger and fries without being spotted by anyone from school.<br/>
<br/>
You get a word in first with news of Chelsea's invite. "You and Caleb are invited. Keith too, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
You're not surprised when he snorts. "Fuck that. I never liked going to those things anyway, this is a perfect way to skip." He peers at you. "You might have fun, though."<br/>
<br/>
"I told Caleb he could go instead of me. I'd give him your mask, you know. Would that be okay with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a shit," he says. "That's totally between you guys." He hunkers down. "But I got another reason for not going to Chelsea's thing. You said it was Friday, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you got plans?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. I wanted to clear them with you first." His eyes dart about shiftily. "I, uh, was thinking about asking someone out on Friday night."<br/>
<br/>
This wasn't what you'd been expecting him to say. You'd been expecting some kind of explosion, some burst of anger because you'd screwed something up for him. Probably that feeling of dread is a relic of Gordon's history with his dad.<br/>
<br/>
You realize you're staring with your mouth hanging open. You shake yourself. "Oh? Uh, who?"<br/>
<br/>
The table starts to vibrate: Will is jogging his leg hard, and he hunches further. His answer is inaudible, and you have to ask him to repeat it. "Cassie Harper," he says.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Cassie Harper? Motormouth Cassie?</i><br/>
<br/>
He winces when he looks at your face. "Something wrong?" he says in a whine.<br/>
<br/>
You probably do have a comical look on your face. You've never given much thought to Cassie, a tiny little redhead that you've shared a few classes with, and who you mostly regard as an annoyance. She's a chatterbox who can't stop talking and giggling inanely about anything that crosses her birdbrain, and she makes these weird little spasmodic jerks with her arms and her body as though she's constantly surprised by the things going on around her. And although she is clearly female, and not at all unattractive as a female, you have never thought of her as anything except generically "female". Certainly you're astonished that Gordon Black, of all people, would find her attractive.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but he's not "Gordon Black" these days. He's "Will Prescott," and he has to settle for whoever Will Prescott could get.<br/>
<br/>
A bolus of anger forms behind your right eye. You rub it.<br/>
<br/>
"No, there's nothing wrong," you say, trying to keep your voice calm. "Go for it. If you honestly think that's the best you can do with my body."<br/>
<br/>
The guy with Will Prescott's body stares back at you over the table. The color in his face deepens, and his gaze goes very cold. "That's not what I was thinking, Prescott," he says. "I wasn't thinking 'What's the best I can do with -- '" He grinds to a choking stop. "You know what I did this morning? I asked out Andrea Varnsworth."<br/>
<br/>
Your chair drops a couple of inches, it feels like. "You what? You didn't!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not shitting you, I did." The red of his cheeks spreads over his nose. "I figured, what the fuck, you know? What's the worst that could happen? She could say no. And what's the best? I mean, really." His eyebrows go up. "What's the best that could happen? Could turn out she had a secret crush on Will Prescott all these years and loves to give blow jobs."<br/>
<br/>
You can almost taste it in the back of your throat: the lovely mouth and tongue of the captain of the Westside swim team. "What did she say?" you ask hoarsely.<br/>
<br/>
His lip curls. "She has a secret crush on you and loves to give blow jobs, that's what she said. Jesus. You think I'd be asking you about Cassie Harper if Andrea Varnsworth said that? She said no."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." You didn't have your hopes up, but it is still crushing to hear.<br/>
<br/>
"She wasn't mean about it or anything. She just smiled -- Well, kind of. And said 'Thanks, but no'." His shoulders jerk. "Anyway. I'm telling you that because it's not like I'm fucking <i>settling</i> or anything. I'd ask other girls, I don't care. My ego's not wrapped up in any of them saying yes, and if I get you a good one -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You think Cassie's a good one?" You can't get your mind around the idea that the answer might be yes.<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing wrong with her," he says. "She's got good looking parts and they're in all the right places. Well, her boobs are pretty small." His shoulders jerk again. "Thing is, I know she'll say yes if I ask her."<br/>
<br/>
You're starting to get the kind of sick feeling in your stomach that people get when they're on an airplane that's hit turbulence. "How do you know that? Did you ask someone?"<br/>
<br/>
He blinks. "I know, because I noticed her and I paid attention to her. Yeah, it was in your English and Astronomy classes," he continued. "I caught her looking at me a couple of times last week, and we talked on Friday. She's totally into you, man. She was dripping just to talk to me."<br/>
<br/>
If you were on an airplane, you'd be praying right now for it to crash and put you out of your misery. The idea that Cassie Harper might be so hot for you that she's -- You swallow hard. "You okay there?" Gordon asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, I never thought of her. That way." You blink a couple of times and lick your lips. Now that you are thinking of her, and are starting to think of her that way --<br/>
<br/>
Well, Gordon is right, that she does have all the right parts and they are arranged in all the right ways. <i>Pert.</i> That's the way you'd have to describe Cassie. She's got a lot of energy, too, and you have a sudden vision of her applying all that energy to you, and the passion behind that energy because she is hot and lustful for you, because you make her groan just to think of her --<br/>
<br/>
You push back the ball cap you're wearing and wipe your forehead, which has suddenly sprung out in a sweat. The old dog down in your shorts -- Gordon's old dog, which is hardly ever still -- raises its nose and quivers excitedly.<br/>
<br/>
But it's a long time before you can get yourself to speak, to answer, because you're caught between wanting to take the chance -- at no risk to yourself, since Gordon would be carrying out the actual date -- and dreading the consequences. What if you wound up with chattering Cassie as a girlfriend?<br/>
<br/>
Finally you just close your eyes, open your mouth, and let your first instinct answer for you.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211
author_id: seuzz
title: Problems of the Heart, Muddles of the Head
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, alright, go for it," you say. You feel cold and sweaty all over, and your shoulders twitch as though someone else were shrugging them for you. "See what happens. Could be fun."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon studies you narrowly. "You sure?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you admit. "I'm scared shitless, 'cos I don't know what'll happen or if I'll like it. I mean, when we do go back to -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't like her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Liking's got nothing to do with it," you stammer. "I don't know who I like. I mean, I <i>do.</i> Andrea Varnsworth, I like <i>her.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You and Gordon briefly lock eyes, and his mouth goes up in a half smile. "Oh yeah," he says with a leer that repulses you for what it does to your face. "Cassie's no Andrea. But I think she could be fun."<br/>
<br/>
You squirm, trying not to think of the obvious kind of "fun" that he's referring to. And he'd be having it with her with your body. "Yeah," you say without enthusiasm. "I guess we'll see what happens."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon holds your eye a little longer, then acquiesces with a shrug of his own.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of your time together, by a common, unspoken consent, is spent talking about school and your opinion of each other's classes. Maybe it's not a surprise that each of you has just about the same opinion of those classes as the other does. Gordon demurs from your opinion on only one point: He thinks you're giving Mr. Walberg a bit of a bum rap. "You'd like him better if you worked harder in his class," he says. "That time capsule project, for instance. What the fuck were you thinking, giving him a hair dryer to put in it?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After leaving the Dairy Queen you wind up at Chelsea's, lying on her bed and rubbing her back while she texts with her friends and browses social media sites. It's part of Gordon's typical "stroking" strategy with her: Keep her happy with some light touching while she concentrates on the stuff she really likes. You break off before nine, though, with the excuse that you have homework to do. She reminds you that you need to invite "your roommate" to her party.<br/>
<br/>
At the Johansson house you talk a little with Caleb's mother, then do schoolwork until eleven-thirty and go to bed. You wake at your usual time, but instead of heading straight over to the school for your morning jog, you stop at the elementary school to see how Caleb is making out. You bang on the basement door before pushing it open and trudging down the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
On the floor is a sleeping bag, and a very disheveled and frightened Jason Lynch is sitting up in it, blinking at you hard. "Oh, fuck!" he gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"You awake?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you awake, you little puke?" It comes out unbidden, the teasing -- but serious-toned -- insult.<br/>
<br/>
He looks drained, and half scrambles back. He shakes his head, like he's trying to dislodge some rocks from it. "I -- Uh -- "<br/>
<br/>
You crouch beside him and tap your knuckles on his skull. "Are you there? Are you home? Who the fuck am I talking to?"<br/>
<br/>
He gapes openly at you. And after a few seconds a light of dawning recognition comes into his eye. He flushes. "Oh, fuck you, asshole."<br/>
<br/>
"There you are." You stand up. "How's your morning wood?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like I got a dick big enough I could tell." He snorts and blows and rubs his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Checking on you, obviously. Are you and Lynch friends yet? How was your night?"<br/>
<br/>
"I heard rats all night. I think I did. Dreamed about 'em, anyway." He shivers. "And what am I supposed to know about -- Ugh." He shudders more deeply now.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatcha got first period, Lynch?"<br/>
<br/>
He thinks a moment. "Baseball practice."<br/>
<br/>
"You gotta be quicker than that, fucker."<br/>
<br/>
"It's early! Anyway, I got baseball practice first period. Or Lynch does."<br/>
<br/>
"When do you and me got study hall?"<br/>
<br/>
Another brief pause. "Third. Up in the loft sometimes. Except when you and Chelsea are -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Weight training? What period?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sixth or seventh. I don't know, I don't count -- "<br/>
<br/>
"What's your last period?"<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. "Horticulture." Then he giggles, an authentic Lynchian snigger. "That's when Chelsea goes t'the opera, right? Whore t' culture?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you fucking maggot, here's the important one. What's Lynch's PIN number?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's easy. Three-four-four-two. Up at Federal Merchants." He yawns. "Got nearly two thousand squirreled away in there."<br/>
<br/>
You feel your eyes pop. "You're fucking with me. Where's he get it from?"<br/>
<br/>
"His granddad in Oklahoma. They got a system, every month his granddad gives him ten percent of whatever the balance is in the account. So he picked up a hunnerd n' eighty dollars plus change a few days ago. Teaches him the principle of savings, or something like that." Caleb rubs his face, then blinks and studies his hand. It's a strong, meaty thing with stubby fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, three-four-four-two. You gonna write it down?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I can remember it." His grin is also Lynchian as he looks up at you. It freezes and falls a little, though, when you crouch back next to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's get that shit off your face. I hate looking at Jason Lynch." You grab his forehead.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's still passed out when you leave him, and you don't see him at school, but apparently he had no trouble remembering Lynch's PIN, because when you break from post-school practice there's a text on your cell from him: <i>got 300, going shopping</i>. There's also a text from Prescott: <i>date w Cassie set for Sat.</i>.<br/>
<br/>
Rocket fuel and a date with Cassie Harper. You're not sure which will be more dangerous to you in the long run.<br/>
<br/>
You've not heard back from Caleb by the time you get to his house, so you help his mother fix dinner. She hasn't heard from him either, and when the meal is ready -- it's pork chops and apple sauce and green beans -- you text him to see what the hold-up is. He replies that he's at the elementary school waiting for you. With a snort, you tell Mrs. Johansson that her son has been unavoidably detained, and eat supper with her. It's pleasant, though the conversation is a little strained. You help her clean up and pack leftovers for her son.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is a little pissed off when you finally catch up to him outside the basement, and he looks up from his cell phone with a dark expression. "Jesus, it's like I'm the only one who cares about this stuff," he says. "And you couldn't bring me my portion?" he asks when you tell him why you are late.<br/>
<br/>
But he's put the time to some use. "I've been looking over the notes we made for the next spell," he says. "And there is no fucking way we're doing it down in that basement. Because we'll blow the place up," he says when you ask him why not.<br/>
<br/>
You tell him it can't be that bad. "Will, I bought a bunch of rocket fuel," he says. He pauses as your old white truck roars to a stop alongside the Bug with a growl and a cloud of dust. "And we're supposed to set it on fire."<br/>
<br/>
"Set what on fire," Will Prescott asks as he jumps from the cab of the truck. "Sorry I'm late, I had to babysit Tilley. Jesus," he adds, turning to you. "Can you fucking do something about Javits?"<br/>
<br/>
"I already tried."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, try again."<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't you try, cocksucker? If it fucking bothers you so much."<br/>
<br/>
Will squints malignantly at you, and resettles his cap on his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Johansson," you say. "Do you give a fuck about Tilley and what Javits is doing to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hell no. What bothers me is the crap I've got in my backseat."<br/>
<br/>
Will grins. "You crapped in your back seat?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb leans across the hood of his car to shove two birds in Will's face. "It's all that flammable -- er, <i>stuff</i> I had to buy today. We're supposed to pour it over that pile of dirt you hauled out of the cemetery -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't get any dirt from any cemetery," Will says.<br/>
<br/>
"Weren't you bitching mightily a few days ago about carrying a coupla hundred sacks of dirt down into the basement?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but I didn't pull it out of a cemetery."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb turns red. "The spell says it has to come out of a cemetery!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but I didn't -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, Prescott," you snap, and Will catches his breath, then laughs. "<i>I</i> got the dirt out of the cemetery. Your friend there just moved it into the -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Wait a minute!" Caleb slides off the hood of his car and scrambles backward until he's pressed against the wall of the school. He points. "Did you two fuckers switch back when I wasn't looking?"<br/>
<br/>
Before you can answer -- or decide which answer would be more amusing -- Will saunters over to Caleb, who flinches from him. Will leans in close and whispers in Caleb's ear. Then his hands disappear, somewhere down near Caleb's crotch --<br/>
<br/>
And Will leaps back with a laugh when Caleb swings at him -- both are cherry red in the face. "Relax," Will says, and resettles his cap again with a grin. "What's it matter who's who as long as we're having fun."<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't switch," you say firmly -- Will's tomfoolery has ticked you off a little. "And the dirt came from the cemetery."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is also snappish. "Well, we're supposed to soak it with the crap I bought today and light it on fire."<br/>
<br/>
"So let's do it," says Will.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll blow ourselves up. Along with the school. <i>And</i> the book, probably."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?" The final warning has caught your ear.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. We need to pile all that stuff onto the sigil. We've been using the sigils in the book, you know, so if we set that crap on fire -- <i>Ssssssst!</i> There goes the book."</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112
author_id: seuzz
title: Fireworks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It's not going to blow anything up," says Will. "Don't be a dumbass."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you know what's in those bags I bought?" Caleb shouts. "Do you know anything about chemistry?"<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't chemistry," Will retorts. "It's magic. It didn't blow up the last guys who owned that book."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know? The book wound up in a used bookstore. Maybe it blew up everyone who tried that spell and that's how come it keeps getting bumped around from person to person!"<br/>
<br/>
You've heard enough, and step in. "We'll try it out, but we won't do it in the basement. We'll do it in the open."<br/>
<br/>
Will shrugs, but Caleb still wears a guarded expression. "What about the book? You wanna risk blowing it up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Risk it? According to you, it <i>will</i> blow up if we set fire to the crap."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. So we should make a copy of the sigil."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh uh. We'll use the book."<br/>
<br/>
Both Caleb and Will look startled. "The fuck?" says Caleb aloud, and Will's expression echoes it.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. What you said about it blowing up the last guy or guys who tried that spell," you say. "If it blows up in our faces, we'll blow up the book, and that way no one else gets blown up by it."<br/>
<br/>
Now your friends turn a little green. "And if we get blown up too?" asks Will.<br/>
<br/>
"We won't," you say. "'Cos Caleb knows how to make a fuse. A really long fuse. Don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," says Caleb, though he sounds far from certain.<br/>
<br/>
"Perfect. So that's what we'll do." And now you permit yourself a smile. "And I know the perfect place to do it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Will laughs. "Oh, shit, this is awesome!"<br/>
<br/>
"Quiet," you growl. "Just keep moving the dirt."<br/>
<br/>
It's pitch black -- it's past ten o'clock -- and you're unloading sandbags filled with graveyard dirt from the back of your old truck. Well, you're unloading it; Will and Caleb are emptying the bags in a pile atop the grimoire, which you've opened to the most recent spell. You're sore from having to move the dirt into the back of the truck, and are fervently hoping there aren't any more spells that call for you to move that much earth.<br/>
<br/>
And where are you unloading the stuff?<br/>
<br/>
It hasn't got an address, being just an open acre of land next to the river. But it's at four-way nexus, just to the west of where Carver Road crosses the Mohegan River. To the east, just across the river, is the stretch of riverbank where teens like to gather to smoke, party, make out, and screw inside their cars. Just to the south is the Saratoga Falls Country Club.<br/>
<br/>
If you set off an explosion here, it will light up and rattle kids on their dates, and old, rich people at the club. That's why you suggested it.<br/>
<br/>
Actually, you hope nothing does blow up. It'd suck if you lost the book in an explosion.<br/>
<br/>
Bag by bag you unload the truck. Bag by bag, the other two dump the dirt out in a low berm. Under Caleb's direction, you gingerly soak the pile with dry fuels and wet fuels, being careful not to get any on yourself. Then you drive one end of a very long, homemade fuse into one end of the berm. Despite yourself, you're nervous, and you jump when Will starts the truck. He moves it down a hundred yards just to where the dirt track branches off of Carver. <br/>
<br/>
Caleb inspects your work, nods, and runs at a hard sprint to the truck.<br/>
<br/>
You run a sweaty palm against your shorts, flick the cigarette lighter, and set it to the ragged end of the fuse.<br/>
<br/>
It sputters to life. You trot back a few steps, then turn and thunder down the track to the truck. "Get in the cab," you bark as you gallop up. "Get in! I wanna get out of here fast if that thing goes up like a bomb!" Will and Caleb scamper up into the cab and turn over the motor; you vault into the bed of the truck, take out the small binoculars Will had brought along. You focus them on the berm, and pray that the fuse doesn't go out.<br/>
<br/>
In the dark you can barely make out a tiny spark and sputter.<br/>
<br/>
You wait. And wait. The spark doesn't seem to be moving. You lick your lips.<br/>
<br/>
Your cell dings, but you ignore it.<br/>
<br/>
The truck lurches forward, and you lose sight of the spark. Then you catch it again. You grip the side of the truck, willing yourself not to lose focus. If that berm goes off with an earth-shattering kaboom, you don't want to be surprised by it.<br/>
<br/>
And then there's a flash. You steel yourself for the shock.<br/>
<br/>
It never comes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Shit," says Will. "I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed."<br/>
<br/>
"I do." You shove Caleb in the shoulder. "Moron. We coulda done it in the basement, saved all the trouble of lugging that shit around." Caleb replies with a dirty look.<br/>
<br/>
That is, you assume he's giving you a dirty look. You can't really tell in the dim light of the fire.<br/>
<br/>
It's a purple fire, and a very gentle purple fire it is that's licking at the berm of earth. It makes no noise, and it gives off no heat. Will discovered that when he put his hand in it.<br/>
<br/>
There was a very brief and large flash of purple when the spark hit the fuel-soaked earth, but there was no explosion, no sound, no shock wave, and the flash lasted only a second or two before dimming into these ghostly flames.<br/>
<br/>
"How long do we have to wait?" Will asks.<br/>
<br/>
"The book says to wait until the flame dies out."<br/>
<br/>
"How long will that be?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," Caleb cries. "Why don't you pull the book out and look at it for yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
Will rears back. "Can we do that?" He looks between you and Caleb. "Won't that stop the spell from working?"<br/>
<br/>
Now you and Caleb exchange a glance: you'd not thought about that. "I don't know. I suppose we should just wait and see how long it lasts. If it goes out in the next hour, there's no point in worrying, is there?"<br/>
<br/>
So you wait for about fifteen minutes, pacing the ground and slapping at insects and peering across the river at the few -- very few -- cars in view on the other side. Will finally declares that he's going to drive in to town to pick up some snacks for everyone, and when he's gone you and Caleb hunker down next to the berm. "You thought about going to Chelsea's party on Friday?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I don't want to."<br/>
<br/>
"You thought about asking Eva out again?"<br/>
<br/>
He groans. "It's too late for that."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not too late. It's never too late until you give up."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, what is that, some kind of mystic dating koan?" he cries. "Anyway, what the fuck do you know about getting it on with hot cheerleaders?"<br/>
<br/>
You have a wry answer to that, but you keep your  mouth shut.<br/>
<br/>
Until Caleb realizes you'd have a wry answer to it, and he repeats his question in a much more serious tone of voice. "What <i>do</i> you know about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, What do I know about getting it on with Chelsea Cooper?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't brag. You knew what I was asking without me having to say so."<br/>
<br/>
"Ask Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna do that. He's got your sticks where your arms should be, but I don't want him whaling on me."<br/>
<br/>
"So you want me to tell you what it's like to date Chelsea." You sit back and stretch strong legs in front of you, so that everything can unfurl. "You want me to tell you about how she shaves her pussy, so she's all soft like velvet down there, and it feels awesome whether you're touching her with your lips or your tongue or your finger or your cock? And how when she swells up down there, and you touch it, it's like pushing an orgasm button, and she makes this little whistling shriek in the back of her throat, and she grabs your hand and -- Hey, let go." Caleb has sunk a clawlike hand into your arm.<br/>
<br/>
"Not unless you keep going," he says in a strangled voice. "I wanna take a 3D movie of it to bed with me."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna think about what you're doing in your bed in the next room, Johansson." You pry his hand off you. "Anyway, I'm not gonna say any more. It won't do you any good. What you need is to think about how you're going to get back in action with Eva, now that you've let so much time dribble away."<br/>
<br/>
"I was never in action with her. That was you."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. I served her up on a platter, and you dropped her. Asshat." You slap him, and he cries out.<br/>
<br/>
"Watch it! You're turning more and more like Gordon every day, Will!"<br/>
<br/>
"And he's turning more and more like me, it seems like. So what's it matter? Anyway, I didn't mean to hit you hard. Did I?"<br/>
<br/>
"It felt like it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Suck it up. I mean, I'm sorry. I don't -- " You roll your shoulder. "I don't know how it feels on the other end. Gordon doesn't, or never did, I think. He's not an asshole, Johansson," you snarl in a sudden, defensive heat.<br/>
<br/>
There's no time for him to reply as the beams of a truck catch you in their glare and the cloud of dirt off the track blows past you when it brakes. "Yo, it's my treat," Prescott says when gets out and drops a bag in front of you. "But you owe me for later."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
An hour passes, and then ninety minutes, and finally midnight creeps into view. Your trio finally decides to check the fire in the morning: you'll do that on your way to school early.<br/>
<br/>
But do you try to extract the grimoire from under the burning pile of earth?</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321121
author_id: seuzz
title: Party Plans
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'm gonna grab the book before we go," you say, and lumber over to the burning pile of earth.<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna fuck it up," Caleb exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"Even if I do, we know it works and can set it up again," you retort. "And we can set it up in the basement."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shouts something else, but you're not paying attention, and kneel next to the berm. You are very careful about putting your hand into the dirt, in case something should happen, but you feel about until you touch the edge of the book. You pull it slowly out.<br/>
<br/>
Some of the dirt comes away with it, but you do it no other apparent damage, and push the dirt back in. Pulling the grimoire out doesn't seem to have affected the fire at all.<br/>
<br/>
But when you try to turn the page to the next spell, you find that it is still stuck to the page beneath. You suppose that means the fire has to finish doing its work before the spell is complete.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The fire is still burning when you stop by the spot on the way to school the next morning, and it is still burning when you stop by to check on your way home in the afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
You were late checking it, too, for Chelsea insisted on staying after practice with you, up in the loft. At first you were hoping you were going to get lucky, but she insisted on keeping it down to only some heavy petting, and then wanted to talk about who to invite to the party on Friday. "I need to let people know tonight," she said. "I should have told them earlier, but I wasn't sure I was going to get to have it. Stupid Jordan was talking about having his own party out there Friday, and he didn't turn loose until this morning." Jordan Cooper is her older brother, a student at the college.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care who you invite out," you told her. "As long Steve and Jason are there, and Huber and his crowd aren't."<br/>
<br/>
"We've got to have <i>some</i> people from the football team," she insisted. "If only to show some school spirit."<br/>
<br/>
"Carstairs is okay," you said with a roll of your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Some of Cameron's friends," she said. "He's the quarterback, you know . What about Reece Palendech or Chris Ratliff? They'd look nice with some of our friends."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think Palendech is Steve's type."<br/>
<br/>
She punched you. "I meant they'd look nice with Gloria or Kendra, or Eva and Jessica. Which reminds me -- "<br/>
<br/>
You tensed, expecting her to ask about Caleb again. <br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do about Jeremy? Are you keeping him on the squad or aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
You relax again. "Richards? He's staying, I guess. I can't decide, which means -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I wish you'd get rid of him. I heard that him and Eva are, like, sucking on each other's tonsils, and I -- "<br/>
<br/>
You bolt upright. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know. Ew! Which is why you should -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Eva and Richards are dating?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea made a weird kind of noncommittal choking noise. "That would be even more horrible. Or maybe less horrible, since that would mean it isn't just physical."<br/>
<br/>
"But you mean they're -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know how far it's gone with them, Gordon, and don't give me nightmares by trying to imagine it." She sat back on her heels and cocked her head. "You know, you're not ever really that interested when I tell you about these things."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well," you stammered. "This is Richards, and you're right. Ew." But of course that wasn't it at all.<br/>
<br/>
And then something -- probably mention of Eva -- did remind her of Caleb. "Did you talk to that guy you're rooming with about coming to the party?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not rooming with him, I'm renting from his mother."<br/>
<br/>
"Tch, don't be so technical. You're under the same roof, so you're rooming with him."<br/>
<br/>
"Does that mean you're rooming with your brother?"<br/>
<br/>
A spot of white showed in her forehead. "Have you asked that guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb? I mentioned it to him. He didn't sound interested."<br/>
<br/>
You hadn't paid that much attention to her after that, being completely distracted by her news that Eva Garner, apparently having decided that Caleb Johansson wasn't actually interested in her, was falling into the clumsy hands of Jeremy Richards.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb turns from his laptop to stare evenly at you. "I get that your girlfriend's interested in this. Why should I be?"<br/>
<br/>
You snort, and close the bedroom door. You're so tall that you're able to do it from the bed just by stretching your leg and kicking it with your foot. "You know why you should be."<br/>
<br/>
"I know why <i>you</i> think I should be," he says, and you can tell you've hit a nerve because his voice has jumped half an octave in pitch. He wheels back to the laptop. "Just drop it, Will. I've told you before to drop it."<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck is wrong with you? Or is it Eva, you think there's something wrong with her? No, can't be that," you continue when he just clacks away at the keyboard. "Because we've talked enough about how hot she is. Oh, and Gordon and his friends have also talked about it, talked about her and Jessica -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Ahnanananananananananah!" Caleb yells, and claps his hands over his ears. He looks back hotly at you. "You can tell me what you do with Chelsea, but don't you fucking tell me what you, and especially what <i>Patterson</i>, has fantasized about Eva. Or Jessica."<br/>
<br/>
"So you do care for her!"<br/>
<br/>
"I care for her the way I care about puppies at the pound. I don't wanna see them thrown into a wood chipper, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go out and adopt them all myself."<br/>
<br/>
"So you'd let Richards slobber all over her."<br/>
<br/>
"Better him than -- " Caleb makes a face. "If it makes her happy, I don't get it. If it makes him happy -- " He shrugs. "He used to be friends with us. What does Gordon think of him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Thinks he's a goof, a doofus, and a fuck up. A platinum-plated ding-dong. Six quarts short of a gallon, and twelve thumbs when it comes to handling a basketball."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I get it."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea wants me to bust him and Eva up by kicking him off the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"How will that bust them up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. I guess Chelsea thinks Eva's only going out with him because he's on the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"Is she only going out with Gordon because <i>he's</i> on the squad?"<br/>
<br/>
You give Caleb to the count of five to withdraw the remark, then slowly sit up on the bed and put your feet on the floor and stand up. Caleb has to lean back to take you all in as you tower over him. "Would you like to ask a different question instead of the one you asked?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Is she only going out with Gordon because she lost a bet?"<br/>
<br/>
You pull him out of his chair and into a loose headlock, then fling him onto the bed. He rolls gently across it and sits up undamaged. You take his place in the chair. "I don't know what she's thinking. I'm pretty sure Gordon could never figure it out, and he's no dumber than me when it comes to girls."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, for God's sake don't do what she's asking you to do. If Jeremy's happy -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You want to make him happy?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shrugs. "I don't despise him. I used to, but recently life's gotten too busy for me to keep in practice."<br/>
<br/>
Then Caleb's mom calls you out for supper. You take your time eating and help her clean up, so you don't get a chance to return to the subject before Will shows up.<br/>
<br/>
Then you're talking about other stuff about other stuff after your trio has adjourned to the bedroom. He checked on the project before coming over, and reports that it's <i>still</i> burning. "And I thought it took forever to make a mask," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"That reminds me," you say. "What are we going to do with that mask of Lynch? It's going to waste."<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing we <i>can</i> do with it, right?" Will says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's been awhile since you've hung out with your friends," you remind him. "We could make Caleb put it on and then the three of us -- "<br/>
<br/>
Caleb throws a book at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, have you been hanging out any with Steve and Jason since moving in here," Will asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Not so much," you admit. "But I'll see them at that party at Chelsea's. Sure you guys don't want to go?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks around for another book to throw, but none are in reach. Will groans. "I told you, I'm not going. I hated those things. Let's the three of us go out -- Oh, but you've got to go to the party at least. I guess Tilley it is for the third," he sighs, turning to Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
Then an idea comes to you, and you feel a smile creeping up the side of your face. "You know, when Caleb and me were starting to play with these things, we were talking about pranking people with them. What if we got masks of a couple of people -- Lynch and some other guy, say -- and sent the real people off on a snipe hunt or something, and then you two snuck into Chelsea's party disguised as them?"<br/>
<br/>
Your two friends both look skeptical, but they don't look like they immediately hate the idea. You bet you could talk them into it if you tried hard enough.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211
author_id: seuzz
title: Party Prank Prep
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Oh, come on!" you exclaim when Will and Caleb continue to look skeptical. "When we got that book we were all into doing pranks with it. Remember? What happened? What have we been doing? It's all been serious with it since, well -- " You break off before you can say something really regrettable like "Since Gordon got into it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it hasn't really worked out well for that, has it," says Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos we're not trying! This is the perfect opportunity! Yo, I know you don't like Chelsea's parties," you shout at Will. "How'd you like the chance to screw one up and not take the blame?"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face. "You wanna wear the Lynch mask," Caleb asks him. "'Cos I don't want to."<br/>
<br/>
Will slumps against the wall and falls to the floor. "No, I'm not interested in that."<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos I'm not either," Caleb says. He turns to you. "Sounds like -- "<br/>
<br/>
"So I'll play Lynch, and you can wear this one," you tell Caleb. "Or we'll make two new ones, it's not hard. Or hey!" You snap your fingers and grin at Will. "Chelsea was talking about inviting some of the football guys out."<br/>
<br/>
His face slackens. "She's really trying to make trouble. She's trying piss you off. Piss me off, whatever."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she wasn't talking about inviting Huber, but she was talking about inviting Palendech and Ratliff."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess they're not so bad," Will says with an expression that suggests they're actually a lot worse.<br/>
<br/>
"So if she doesn't invite Huber out -- " Your cheeks ache from the huge smile that's split your face. "Then we don't have to figure out how to keep him away. And then there wouldn't be a problem if a guy who looked just like him showed up and made a total ass of himself!"<br/>
<br/>
You just pushed the magic button. You can tell from the way that Will's eyes have gone wide.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb, naturally, doesn't have a clue what you're talking about. "What's it matter about -- ? Are we talking about Cameron Huber?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Back in middle school he used to push Gordon around."<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't push me around," Will says.<br/>
<br/>
"He pushed you around, fucker. Like, what Javits does to Tilley, that kind of thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" Caleb swings around to gape at Will.<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't that bad," Will mutters thickly.<br/>
<br/>
"You <i>thought</i> it was that bad," you retort. "You <i>felt</i> like it was that bad. Yeah," you continue as you stretch and flex your arms. "Can you believe that Gordon was a late bloomer? Wasn't until his sophomore year after he start spurting and hitting the weights -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I punched the <i>fuck</i> out of that cocksucker a few times, and that straightened him out," Will says in a blazing tone. He's turned very red.<br/>
<br/>
"This is bizarre," Caleb says. "I always thought of Cameron as an okay dude."<br/>
<br/>
"He's not. He's a fucker and a -- "<br/>
<br/>
"So you'll do it?" you ask Will. "If we get a mask of Huber?"<br/>
<br/>
He agrees, and then Caleb agrees to go along with it too. But neither of them seem very enthusiastic.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So your trio goes off to the school basement, where you make masks and metal bands over the course of a couple of hours, and also make plans for copying people. It's Gordon who comes up with an alias for Caleb: At Salopek he works side by side with Sean Mitchell, who is on the football team and is one of Huber's friends. "I can copy him tomorrow," he says, "then use that mask to get to Huber. You can go to the party as Mitchell."<br/>
<br/>
"What's he like?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Mitchell? He's got a stick up his ass, but he's not loathsome."<br/>
<br/>
"Not like Lynch, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
Will gives Caleb a dirty look, but lets the comment otherwise pass. "I'll get the mask to you, and then -- oh, Christ -- I'll go do something with Mitchell to keep him out of the way while you go find Huber."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna be able to get into the memories fast enough for that," Caleb points out. "I won't know how to find him."<br/>
<br/>
"I know how to find him," you blurt out. "Leave it to me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Again, the next morning you check the progress of the burning pile of earth on the way to school, and find that it's still burning. The evening forecast calls for rain; you'd worry about it dousing the spell or otherwise messing it up, but your experience in lighting it has convinced you that it's no ordinary fire and probably can't be dampened by rain. <br/>
<br/>
You don't share any classes with Cameron Huber, but you know where to find him at lunch: the cafeteria, a few tables over from your usual spot. You watch until you see him coming in with his friends, then go over to see him.<br/>
<br/>
Huber is a pretty big guy -- as quarterback of the Westside football team, he'd have to be -- without being too big. He's brawny all over, and even at noon there's a shadow of whiskers on his cheeks, and his tightly cut, reddish-brown locks gleam with a sheen of light oil. You can barely keep your anger in check as you approach him.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you yourself have anything against Huber, who in your experience has always been a decent guy, though one you don't have anything to do with. But Gordon's got strong feelings about him, and if those feelings are mixed it's because he feels every possible negative emotion around the guy: fear, hatred, contempt, envy, and resentment. All of them stemming from the fact that in middle school Huber was the big guy in the class, who was universally popular, and was the first to have a girlfriend, and who went out of his way to humiliate Gordon Black. And those feelings have not gone away even though the tables have, to a degree, turned. In fact, it's probably because the tables have only partially turned that Gordon hates Huber all the more. Because Gordon knows that, as a person, Huber is still more popular than he is.<br/>
<br/>
And Huber seemingly feels the same way. His eyes harden when he sees you approach, and the friends clustered about him visibly tense as well.<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna talk to you," you say in a low voice when you're face to face with Gordon's nemesis.<br/>
<br/>
"What about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just some stuff. Varsity stuff. Clear the air a little between us."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what kind of varsity stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, it's not my idea. Coach Brooks -- " You break off. Coach Porter oversees the football program, and Coach Brooks oversees the basketball program, so it's tough coming up with a story about the coaches that encompasses both.  "There's just some crap I need to talk to you about. Business. Let's do it on neutral ground after school."<br/>
<br/>
Huber lifts his chin and puts his shoulders back, like you've just challenged him to a fight. "Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Christ. The Crystal Cave, okay? You know where that is?"<br/>
<br/>
The name of Saratoga Falls' premiere kooky coffee house draws snickers and meaningful glances from Huber's entourage. Even Huber can't keep a sneer down. "Why there?"<br/>
<br/>
You look around the group, and their mirthful gazes aren't daunted by your cold one. "Because my girlfriend wants me to pick up a special blend for our anniversary, and because I have a girlfriend that's what I'm going to do." It was probably the wrong thing to say, because now the grins break out in earnest.<br/>
<br/>
"What does she like?" Huber asks.<br/>
<br/>
You ignore the question. "Seven o'clock," you tell him, which is the time you set with Caleb last night. "You say something, Nieves?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." But Ethan Nieves's lips twitch.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I thought you did." You let it drop, and trudge back to your table.<br/>
<br/>
But you heard what he murmured to Marcus Johnston: <i>She likes it big and stupid.</i> And you hear Johnston's louder reply as you walk away. "But where do you find big and stupid coffee beans?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't know what it is about this town. It's not like it's in California or down the road from Salem, Massachusetts. The local university -- the Keyserling School of Mining and Technology -- is a hard-headed, science-oriented place. <br/>
<br/>
But Saratoga Falls is <i>thick</i> with weird, fruity, quasi-occult crap.<br/>
<br/>
There's that one coffee shop called The Flying Saucer, for instance, and the sandwich place that calls itself "Besandwiched" and has occult crap painted on its walls. There are mediums and palm readers in all the strip centers. Arnholm's has a massive occult section in its store, and let's not forget that you found an actual, authentic, working grimoire in its special collections case.<br/>
<br/>
And there's The Crystal Cave, where you're sitting now.<br/>
<br/>
Each of the twelve booth in the back room has a creepy symbol painted on the wall above it, and each of the ten tables in the front room has a special symbol printed on a card at the end of a metal pole. Someone explained to you once that the booths were decorated with the twelve signs of the zodiac, and that the tables were marked with the signs of the planets. You pointed out that there were only nine planets, and got told that the sun was also considered a planet. You made a snarky comment on how dumb it was to think of the sun as a planet, which led to a tepid kind of fight with the person doing the explaining.<br/>
<br/>
But the booth you've chosen is also decorated with one of those metal stands, this one holding a card with a drawing of a crescent moon. Above your left shoulder, on the wall, is a figure holding a bow and arrow.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Plan Comes Together ...
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It was not quite six-forty-five when you dropped into a booth at the Crystal Cave to wait for Huber. Gordon wanted you to wait until he was off work, in case he wasn't able to get a mask of Mitchell, in which case he said he would be in favor of canceling the whole thing. And it worked for you too, since it gave you time after practice to hang out with Steve and Jason up in the loft. They asked what you've been doing, and what Johansson has been doing. You replied that you've been doing homework and that Johansson has been out of the house with friends. They snorted that it was probably Ioeger and Lamont he was hanging with, but you demurred on speculating.<br/>
<br/>
You're facing the door, both so you can see Huber when he comes in, and so he'll be forced to sit with his back to the doorway. That will render him blind to the attack.<br/>
<br/>
Your only worry is about being witnessed by others. Fortunately, though there are people in the front room, you've got this back room to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Until Caleb comes in. He glances around while ignoring you, then disappears into a booth just inside the door. It surprises you a little that he doesn't acknowledge your presence, but you're not supposed to be seen together anyway.<br/>
<br/>
But then someone else comes in, and you start a little, for you recognize him.<br/>
<br/>
It's one of the Eastman basketball players, so of course you'd know him by face and reputation, even if you don't know him personally. You don't know much about him either, since he's new in town, but you've already heard he's pretty good. He's not alone, either, for he has one arm around a blonde girl that you also recognize as one of Eastman's cheerleaders.<br/>
<br/>
None of that interests you; what catches your eye is that he's got his other arm in a sling. <i>Bad luck for Eastman,</i> you reflect.<br/>
<br/>
But you ignore him as he and the girl walk over to a booth on the other side of the room, and they ignore you. Still, it complicates things. You fidget worriedly with that metal stand and its moon card, and come real close to texting Caleb to call the thing off.<br/>
<br/>
But Huber shows up before you can panic too hard. Like Caleb, he looks around the room with a puzzled expression, and seems not to notice you. He grimaces, and mutters to himself.<br/>
<br/>
You wait impatiently for him to come over, and when it's ground on you enough, you raise your hand and beckon angrily at him. He jumps and does a double take at you. "Whoa," he says he slides into the seat opposite you. "How'd I miss you sitting here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Huber. You haven't been smoking any of that loco weed Carstairs likes to pass around, have you?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow. "Let's just get this over with. What's this about?"<br/>
<br/>
You have your cell out, and are about to pick it up to signal Caleb when it flashes a text: a text from Caleb, in fact. <i>huber here where r u?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," you mutter, and punch in a reply to the dumbass. <i>sitting w huber. do it fast</i> "Sorry, girlfriend stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of coffee are you picking up for her?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't remember, I had to write down the name of the blend." You keep your eyes on Huber and try not to notice Caleb, whose face, like a waxing, thick-witted moon, has popped up over the partition behind the quarterback. His eyes bulge dumbly at you, and his mouth hangs open.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, the deal is -- Uh, I'm thinking of cutting some of the guys from our roster. They're not working out, not working hard, and I'm gonna need replacements. Brooks only wants me to take guys who aren't working at any of the other programs, so if I tap the football squad -- "<br/>
<br/>
Huber's lips have disappeared into a compressed line. Caleb vanishes behind the partition after having gaped stupidly at you for what feels like a solid minute.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I'll be really blunt, Huber. You got a lot of fuck ups on your squad, and the ones who aren't fuck ups are guys I don't personally care for. Like you. I don't want to tap the football squad, but if I do -- "<br/>
<br/>
<i>What the fuck is keeping Caleb?</i> You buy a few seconds by looking over at the Eastman guy. But he's wrapped up with the girl -- already he's getting pretty handsy with her, despite his busted wing -- and might not even notice if you set Huber on fire.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd only take someone that you didn't mind losing." You turn back to Huber with a shrug. "That you'd actually like to see gone." You tilt your chin defiantly at him.<br/>
<br/>
He returns your gaze with a level one of his own. "So you'd only take my fuck ups."<br/>
<br/>
"I could make 'em work."<br/>
<br/>
"Could you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Better than you could. Who's your worst?"<br/>
<br/>
"Douglas."<br/>
<br/>
"Dalton the Dumbass," you snort. "Okay, he wouldn't work, he's too short. Who else wouldn't you mind losing?"<br/>
<br/>
Your play to get him talk proves unnecessary, for Caleb at that moment reappears over the partition and covers Huber's face with a mask. It vanishes into him, and his eyes roll back in their sockets. You catch him as he plunges forward, and gently lay his head on the table, facing the wall. You glance over at the Eastman player: He's still wrapped up in his girl. You let out a sigh of relief.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is staring down at you, and his position alarms you, for his perching over the booth is just the kind of thing to attract attention. You show him your cell, jab a finger at him, then point to him to sit down. After a moment of incomprehension, he nods and vanishes again.<br/>
<br/>
<i>get out i'll tak care of it,</i> you text him. He replies with an <i>ok</i>, and a moment later has scampered out the door.<br/>
<br/>
You lean forward and pretend to talk quietly to Huber. Actually, you do talk to him, calling him every nasty thing that Gordon could think to say to him. You drink the coffee that you ordered at the front. You check texts on your cell -- not that you've got any more.<br/>
<br/>
And after an eternal amount of time has passed, a blue glow appears between Huber's face and the table. You gently lift his head, scoop up the mask and put it into your backpack. <br/>
<br/>
Then, since it hardly matters whether Huber is angry with you or not, you leave him there to wake up on his own, and join Caleb outside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What time's the party start?" Caleb asks. You're back at his house, with him and Will. You've eaten, and you've just sealed up the masks, and are examining your handiwork.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm supposed to be there by eight, but most people probably won't start showing up until nine or nine-thirty," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"So what time should we crash it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ten thirty or eleven. What are you gonna do for clothes?" You can't lend them any, for Gordon's clothes are too long for Huber or Mitchell's frames, and their bodies are too bulky to squeeze into anything that Caleb Johansson or Will Prescott would have.<br/>
<br/>
"We could hit the thrift shop after school tomorrow," Will says. "I can get a little money out of my folks for that, and you've got some left over from buying that shit for the spell, right? Oh, has anyone checked it recently?"<br/>
<br/>
"I did, on the way back here," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"How are you getting money out of my dad," you ask Will.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not hard," he says. "Just do what he says and don't do anything dumb. Jesus, Prescott." He crosses his arms. "After what I went through with my dad, yours is a pussycat."<br/>
<br/>
He's got a point, but it makes you sulky to think of him getting along so well with your dad. <br/>
<br/>
"We're not gonna have a lot of time after school to get into character," Caleb says. He's been a little moody ever since the ambush of Huber. "Maybe I should put on Mitchell's mask tonight, get into character, skip school."<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't take <i>that</i> long," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Screw you, it took me most of the night to get into Lynch!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need to get into character, Caleb," says Will. "We're gonna go out there and fuck things up. We don't need their personalities for that."<br/>
<br/>
"So why did we have to copy their heads?" Caleb demands.<br/>
<br/>
Will shrugs. "Insurance." His expression turns shifty. "And in case we ever decide to, you know, do something more with them."<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb glance at each other. "A worse kind of prank?" you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." Will paces the room in short steps. "You never do know, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
Now you slightly regret coming up with this idea. But it's too late now.<br/>
<br/>
He leaves a little after that, and you and Caleb hunker down with homework.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You can't check the new spell in the morning, because Chelsea texted to say she wants you to pick her up. She wants to talk about the final plans for the party, and gives you a to-do list of tasks for the afternoon. At the top of it is a food-and-snack run you're to make with her brother. "I don't need his help picking this stuff up," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I need your help getting him out of the house," she says. "Otherwise he'll just lay on the sofa and sext with his girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
And that's how you wind up in a car with Jordan Cooper right after school.<br/>
<br/>
You -- Gordon, actually -- wouldn't mind Jordan so much for being a quasi-stoner with perpetual bed-head if it wasn't that he hung out with a crowd of lacrosse players when he was at Westside who were themselves tight with Huber's friends. But it's on account of those connections that he's able to pass along a casual warning.<br/>
<br/>
"So, like, you guys better be ready for trouble," he tells you on the way to the store. "I heard that some of the guys at Westside are looking to crash the party."</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321121111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Counter-Prank
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Chelsea didn't just ask her brother to go to the store with you. She made him drive, saying you'd need the space in his SUV to pick up all the stuff she put on her list. So for once you're riding shotgun, and can give your full attention to Jordan's warning: "Some of the guys at Westside are looking to crash the party."<br/>
<br/>
But Jordan can't spare his full attention to the conversation. He's driving and pushing buttons on the satellite radio and he's even got his cell his lap, and he keeps glancing down at it as though waiting for a text or a call. So he only says "Huh?" in a very distracted way when you ask, "What guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, LAX guys. I guess. I heard it from Charlie, and -- You remember Russo?"<br/>
<br/>
"Danny Russo?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, his brother. Charlie. But Danny -- He hasn't graduated yet, has he? Danny, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"No." You'd like to throttle Jordan, but that would only further distract him and he'd probably crash the car, and then you'd never get him to reach the point.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I heard it from Charlie," he says. "He heard it from Danny, so I'm guessing it's LAX guys, since Danny's on the team. Or he was, last I heard." He yawns, hard. "Or maybe it's someone else. I've lost track of who's on the squads these days."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and keep your temper in check. "Are you sure it's someone crashing the party? 'Cos Chelsea did invite some of the football guys out."<br/>
<br/>
"Is Danny Russo one of them? Well," he continues after you answer in the negative. "The way I heard it from Charlie, a bunch of the guys heard what you and Chelsea had planned for tonight -- "<br/>
<br/>
<i>Get on with it, dumbass,</i> you hiss to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
" -- and I don't know if they were pissed off or just full of piss, but I heard they all decided they were going to crash in on it."<br/>
<br/>
You wait for more, because so far he hasn't said anything more than he already said at the start of the conversation: "Some of the guys at Westside are looking to crash the party."<br/>
<br/>
When it becomes clear he has nothing more to add, you just grunt. And Jordan, having unburdened himself, apparently decides that he has nothing more to say on the subject either.<br/>
<br/>
You chew on what he's told you. Your first instinct is to not worry about it. If Danny Russo is one of the guys coming, then it's bound to be mostly laxies busting in. Russo and Noah Lepley, probably. Jeb Ash. Maybe Lukos Arjis -- he's a troublemaker.<br/>
<br/>
That wouldn't bother you much, but it would bother Chelsea greatly, and that's the only way it would turn into trouble for you.<br/>
<br/>
But it would be even worse trouble if certain members of the football squad came with them.<br/>
<br/>
Like, if Huber and Mitchell were two of the guys looking to crash the party when two guys who look just like them were also planning to crash it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So when you get to the store, you send Jordan in one direction with a shopping cart while you go off in another, and after you've separated you call your old cell. "Hey, it's me," you say. "We got a problem."<br/>
<br/>
"I got a problem here," Will Prescott says. "I can't talk. I'm at work."<br/>
<br/>
"Good, 'cos while you're there, try to find out if Mitchell's planning to get into Chelsea's party tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"Stop being paranoid. Anyway, I can't talk to him. He's being all pissy, I think on account of the way I clonked him on the head yesterday when I got the mask on him. Uh-oh, gotta go, bye." The line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
You clench your teeth and call Caleb. You wanted to talk to Gordon instead of him, because you <i>know</i> how Caleb will react.<br/>
<br/>
And he doesn't disappoint. "Okay, then I'm not going out to Chelsea's," he says after you've told him what you heard. "It was a totally unappealing idea anyway, and if we're going to run into the real guys out there -- Or even if there's just a <i>chance</i> we could -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I'm giving you a head's up so you can check it out and we can be sure," you say. "You need to talk to Gordon as soon as he's off work -- "<br/>
<br/>
"That'll be too late for us. He goes home as soon as he's off work, 'cos he goes home with his dad most days now. <i>Your</i> dad, I mean. They're like best friends now, did you know that?" You rub your eye as he starts to prattle. "Jesus, Will Prescott and his dad, bee-eff-effs. I don't know how the fuck you're gonna get back on your dad's bad side if you ever, uh, you know. Oh wait, look who I'm talking to. You can get on your dad's bad side just by leaving the refrigerator door open a couple of hundred times."<br/>
<br/>
You drop your cell into the grocery cart, snatch up a bag of chips, and pound it to dust with your fist. Then you pick up the cell again. "Shut up, I don't need to hear any of this. He can talk to you on the phone when he gets back home, can't he? Text him, tell him you need to talk to him, it's an emergency, and tell him what I told you."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you tell him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I tried. He's at work, and by the time he gets off I'll be back at Chelsea's and then <i>I</i> won't be able to talk."<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut. The fuck. Up. That's where I am. Just do it, Johansson." You hang up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chelsea was right. The amount of food that you bought wouldn't have fit inside the Bug, and it takes multiple trips -- even weighing down your hands and arms with five or six grocery bags each -- to get it all into her house from Jordan's car.<br/>
<br/>
Then you have to help move and rearrange the furniture, and Chelsea has to come check and make you do it again, and then check and do it again. And then you're moving and securing valuables and closing and locking doors, and running a couple of more errands when Chelsea realizes that she left some things off the list and that she is running short on some others.<br/>
<br/>
Some guests start to show up early, before eight. Mostly they are Chelsea's crew -- Kendra Saunders, Gloria Rea, Maria Vasquez -- there to help out. But Steve shows up early as well, as he usually does, because he knows that otherwise Gordon will go crazy. You warn him that you're expecting trouble. "I can put some of the guys outside," he tells you. "Bennett, Green, Martin, those guys. They're used to running interference."<br/>
<br/>
"They'll wanna be inside with the girls." You slam back the soda you're drinking -- a poor substitute for the beer you're craving -- and drill holes in the wall with your eyes. "I'll do it myself. I'll get Jason to help me."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea will want you inside."<br/>
<br/>
"Then she can come find me. Over and over again."<br/>
<br/>
An hour sweeps by, and the crowd starts to thicken. It begins with the basketball squad, who arrive in a couple of carloads. More cheerleaders -- all except that strange outcast, Michelle Estrich -- arrive at about the same time. Other kids -- the ones who are barely cool enough for Chelsea, and who barely tolerate her but can't quite resist the attention or the chance to party -- don't start arriving until nine or nine-thirty. They include a scattering of players from the other varsity teams, both male and female. The ones you notice include Michael Allen and Dawn Fernandez (baseball/softball); Marc Garner and Hannah Westrick (soccer); Nathan Cruz and Christine Coolidge (swimming); Fred Hildown and Catherine Muskov (track). <br/>
<br/>
The football invitees arrive in a single SUV with much hooting and hollering: Erik Carstairs, Dalton Douglas, Connor Vale, Roy Nelson, Cole Stanchik, and Dominic Kleason. You're outside when they arrive, and they all clap your hand in theirs; and you're not sure, but you think you can detect a glint in mischief in their greetings, as though they know something you don't and can't wait for you to find out.<br/>
<br/>
And all this time you haven't heard back from your friends. <br/>
<br/>
You don't figure out why until the front door wrenches open a little after ten and Marcos Rivera puts his head out. "Ay, there you are," he says with a wide, white smile. "Chelsea's looking for you, man," he tells you.<br/>
<br/>
"So let her look. She knows I'm out here, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"If Chelsea was lookin' for me, man, I'd -- Uh -- " Rivera breaks off, having just realized what he's saying and who's saying it to. "Yeah, she says you got a phone call."<br/>
<br/>
You look at Steve, who's taken a break from keeping Kristy Suffolk company, and dig out your cell. It's dead. You cuss softly, and follow Rivera inside.<br/>
<br/>
The music isn't loud, but it's loud enough to make it hard to hear, and the crush of bodies reminds you of why you -- or Gordon -- don't like these parties. Each face is the face of someone who wants your attention, and it is exhausting to try to keep up with them. Even as you push through with your eyes down you feel them turning to look at you with attentive eyes, and a couple of guys even pluck at you, asking you to join them in their little circles.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea is in the den, at the center of a circle of her friends and the usual suck ups. Her chin is up and her eyes are hooded, and the smile on her lips is condescending. She spares you a brief, uninterested glance as you come up, and hands you her phone as if it were a used tissue. She's back in her element, and old habits are reasserting themselves.<br/>
<br/>
You put the phone to your ear. "Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is wrong with your phone?" Will Prescott says. "Is it clear for us to come out or not?"<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Raid
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I think we better bag it," you tell your co-conspirator. "I'm hearing rumors that some guys are gonna try crashing the party, and I can't guarantee Huber and Mitchell won't be part of the crowd."<br/>
<br/>
"That's part of the fun, right?" Prescott says. "Having doppelgangers of people show up?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I don't want to do it," you tell him firmly. "If we're gonna screw with them, let's do it somewhere else."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," he grumbles. "Johansson's being a pussy anyway -- "<br/>
<br/>
You hang up on him before he can talk you around. You've got his brain and he's got yours, so you're pretty sure you know what he's thinking and feeling, and the temptation is mighty strong. But since your phone is dead, it's easy to ignore him after you give Chelsea her phone back. She's not interested in knowing what the call was about, but grabs you and makes you sit in the circle with the girls while she hangs onto your arm.<br/>
<br/>
This is what you -- or Gordon -- hate in her parties. You feel like one of those floats in a Thanksgiving Day parade, all puffed up and dragged out for Chelsea to show off. But you can't even sit quietly and take it. Her friends try to talk to you even though you don't have anything to say to them, and when you fall quiet Chelsea will push you into talking. <br/>
<br/>
Right now, for instance, Olivia Byrne is asking about where you like to hang out when you're not in class or practicing. You answer generically with "Steve and the guys," and then she wants to know where "Steve and the guys" like to hang out. Irritably you tell her that she should ask Steve that, and then she gets smart and asks if you're not one of the "guys" that Steve likes to hang out with, and though you don't like to say it you finally tell her that mostly you and your friends hang out in the loft above the gym. "You know, I'd love to see that some time," she starts to say, but Chelsea rounds on her suddenly to ask if it's true that Kelsey is about to quit the tennis team on account of it taking too much time out of her study schedule. But the way Chelsea is digging her fingernails into your arm tells you that she's got something else in mind.<br/>
<br/>
Five minutes later, when you try to excuse yourself and your girlfriend giggles that she'll come with you, you find out what it is. "What does Steve think of Olivia?" she asks as she follows you into the kitchen, clinging to you all the way.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I don't think he's ever mentioned her."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think he'd like her? Is she his type?"<br/>
<br/>
You have a flashback to the lunch you had with Chelsea the first day you were inside Gordon's mask, when you went to eat lunch with some other guys and wound up sitting next to Olivia. Your footing with Chelsea suddenly feels treacherous. "I don't remember ever really talking about her with the guys," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I find that hard to believe. She's very pretty. All that swimming. I'm just thinking that I bet Steve would like her."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, talk to him about it, if you're so interested."<br/>
<br/>
She pulls away. "I'm not going to do that! You should talk to him. Tell him you think Olivia likes him."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm your boyfriend, I'm not one of your girlfriends."<br/>
<br/>
"Then tell him that I said something about it. Honestly, Gordon." She rolls her eyes. "Isn't that all you guys talk about up in the loft? Which girls you'd do it with?"<br/>
<br/>
Boy, if that isn't a question that can't be answered and shouldn't be answered, but also can't <i>not</i> be answered. Ice forms in your gut: This is totally a return to normal for Chelsea. "Well, next time we're talking about something kind of like that, I'll mention it to him."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, do that," she says somewhat waspishly. "But let me know what he says as soon as you hear, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
You manage to peel her off shortly after that, and go to find Patterson again. You don't say anything to him about Olivia, though. You have a feeling that Chelsea would think it's too soon.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The party drags on for another painful hour, and you're starting to think that the LAX crew aren't going to show up, when you hear a hollering from upstairs. You're back with Chelsea, holding her hand while she holds court, but she breaks off to give you a frown. With a sigh you get up to see what's going on.<br/>
<br/>
You're almost to the top of the stairs when a door slams open and Lukos Arjis leaps into the hallway with a whoop and a war cry. He sees you, points at you with both hands, and looses another wall-rattling yell. Jeb Ash, Marcus Ansell, and Danny Russo pile out behind him.<br/>
<br/>
Then they charge.<br/>
<br/>
They're big guys, lacrosse-playing guys. But you're bigger than any of them. On the other hand, there are five of them.<br/>
<br/>
Doesn't matter. You plant your feet, lean forward with a glower, and snarl. <br/>
<br/>
They pound past you in a rush, and you and Ansell catch each other on the shoulder. You keep to your feet, but he reels to the side, crashing into his friends. Momentum takes them down the stairs, but Ansell falls to the floor. You wheel to grab him as he comes up. Too late you hear more feet behind you. Something heavy hits you in the back of the legs, and the next minute you're staring at the floor as bodies slam atop you, blasting the air from your lungs. Five, six guys shriek and bellow with laughter.<br/>
<br/>
You twist and push up, but the weight is too much even for Gordon Black's frame, and not until some of the guys roll off you can you knock the burden off. You grab at one of the other guys tottering to his feet and slam him against the wall.<br/>
<br/>
It's Matthew McElroy, one of Huber's playmates. He laughs, then rams at you with his head like a rhinoceros, and charges down the stairs after his friends before you can catch him.<br/>
<br/>
From downstairs there's now yelling and screaming. Something heavy falls with a loud crash. The air is rent by more war whoops.<br/>
<br/>
You charge downstairs, doubled over almost on all fours. Partygoers are scattering -- yelling, pushing, shoving, cursing, crying -- as the intruders roar through. You follow one -- whose back looks familiar -- into the kitchen, but he dodges your grasp with a laugh and scoots around the central island to blow back into the dining room, where he knocks over Gloria Rea. <br/>
<br/>
It was Cameron Huber.<br/>
<br/>
In the din you hear someone shouting your name, but there are too many people, too much chaos, to follow it. Something big and heavy bangs against the other side of the dining room wall, and plaster shakes from the ceiling. You push through a small crowd running out of the living room, just in time to see Patterson grab a figure and hurl him again against the wall. It's Ethan Nieves, another one of Huber's cronies.<br/>
<br/>
There are other intruders who get thrown to the ground, but in the scrum it's impossible to hold them down, especially after a general melee breaks out involving those members of the football team who were invited. After only five or ten minutes -- which is enough for you to get a bloodied nose -- Huber's crew has vanished out the doors or through the windows and into the night. When making a patrol afterward, searching for laggards, you find the ladder that they used to sneak up into Jordan's bedroom. Despite all the damage downstairs, they at least left the upstairs in okay shape.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Fuckers! Those fuckers!" Will Prescott looks like he wants to tear himself in half. Instead, he hurls himself chest-first into a tree, knocking himself onto his silly ass.<br/>
<br/>
"Stop that," you say, and grab him before he can do it again. "Don't fuck yourself up. You've got that date with Cassie in an hour, remember?" But even as you grasp him, he jumps up and down and cusses lustily.<br/>
<br/>
You look at Caleb. He shrugs, and when Prescott runs out of breath, he says, "So why aren't <i>you</i> upset?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got enough people losing their shit. I almost had to hose Chelsea down."<br/>
<br/>
Will stops cold at that, and Caleb looks thoughtful. Clearly they are both imagining what a wetted-down Chelsea Cooper would look like. <br/>
<br/>
It's Saturday, the day after the party, early evening. You're meeting your friends after getting off of work. You didn't even go back to Caleb's when the party was over, but spent the evening helping Chelsea and her family put the house back together, and you crashed on the sofa downstairs when you were done. That morning you texted Caleb briefly, telling him there was excitement, and you'd tell all about it later. By the time you met your friends, they had heard the outlines, but it was your description that filled them in on how bad it was.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon, naturally, is much more upset than Caleb, and he loudly demands to know what you're going to do about it. You know perfectly well what <i>he</i> wants you to do: the same the thing Chelsea wants you to do, which is to visit a righteous beat down on their asses. But after talking with the other partygoers, you know there were a dozen people in Cameron's posse, so that's easier said than done.<br/>
<br/>
"So we take them down singly," Gordon says. "You and me and Steve -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You and me and Steve," you echo him satirically. "One of those things does not belong with the others."<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I mean. You get a posse of four or five, grab each asshole by himself, and kick the fuck out of him!"<br/>
<br/>
That is one way of doing it. Then Caleb, almost in an off-hand way, suggests another. "Why not use the masks to get revenge?"</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111121
author_id: seuzz
title: Strange Acts, Anticipated and Done
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You and your replacement look at each other, then look at Caleb. "Use the masks?" you ask. "How?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." Caleb avoids your eye. "Maybe you should forget I said anything."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I see what you're saying," Will says. "You're saying we should use those masks of Huber and Mitchell to get back at the guys, like Prescott said we should'a done at the party. But that's not what I want," he instantly adds. "The whole point of a beat down is the fuckers know who beat them down and why. Can't do that with the masks."<br/>
<br/>
He rambles on about what he wants to do to Huber -- and to Ratliff, Nieves, Walker, Johnston, McElroy, Palendech, Mitchell, Schmitz, Russo, Ash, Arjis, and Ansell -- but you stop listening. You're absorbed in Caleb's comment about the masks. And slowly it comes into focus: How to use them to give those cocksuckers the punishment that Gordon and Chelsea and their friends are all demanding.<br/>
<br/>
"Bait. Or a lure," you say. "That's how we use the masks."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"We can't take those guys all at once. There's too many. We gotta get each one alone, one at a time, where Steve and Jason and me can take 'em apart."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," says Will, all uncomprehending. "We should -- "<br/>
<br/>
"We should use the masks for it. Think about it. Ratliff gets a call from Huber. Or better, Huber stops at his place, says, 'Let's go chuck rocks in the river,' or whatever. Ratliff goes off with him. Or they agree to meet somewhere. But it's not Huber, it's one of us, maybe it's me, and it's you and Steve and Seth waiting down at the river, or wherever."<br/>
<br/>
"That'd work," Will says.<br/>
<br/>
"Better than that. 'Cos what happens when Ratliff, or whoever, sees Huber again, and he's all, like, 'What the fuck, man, where were you? Those guys jumped me,' and Huber's all, like, 'I don't know what you're talking about, dickweed, I been spoonin' with my girlfriend all day'. That'd be like the pranking we were talking about doing, but it's on top of the beat downs we'd be giving them."<br/>
<br/>
"That's great," says Will in an awestruck voice. "That's fucking -- Hey, where you going?" he calls to Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
Your other friend has been sidling away. "I don't wanna be a part of this."<br/>
<br/>
"Who says you have to be?" Will retorts. "You haven't wanted to be part of anything since -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I'll talk to him," you interrupt. "We need to get back to his place anyway. I still got some homework to do. And you've got a date."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right!" He chest-bumps you, with much the same results as when he tried chest-bumping the tree.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You follow Caleb back to his place, and you follow him into his house, and you follow him into his bedroom. He doesn't say anything. You don't either, until you've closed the door. "So, what's the deal, man?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't help you out if you don't tell me what it is."<br/>
<br/>
"It's nothing, Will," he says, stressing the name. "If you and Gordon want to get all up in Cameron's grill, that's your business. Actually, it's Gordon's business, but since you're all mixed up with him -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Are you feeling left out? Because I keep trying to involve you."<br/>
<br/>
"I know,"  he sighs. "But I don't think I <i>can</i> fit in. Not with what you guys are doing with the masks."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do <i>you</i> want to do with them? I know you wanted to prank people with them, but now that you got a chance -- "<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't pranking, Will, it's revenge. Gordon's revenge, and the only reason you're doing it is because -- " He points at you.<br/>
<br/>
You grit your teeth, and ignore the implication. "Well, who do <i>you</i> want to prank?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, don't worry about me, okay? Do your thing, and when it's done maybe the three of us can figure out something that all three of us would like doing."<br/>
<br/>
You waver. He's giving you an escape hatch from this very awkward talk, but you don't want to lunge for it. "It might take awhile. There's a dozen guys in need of a beat down."<br/>
<br/>
"Then that'll give me a lot of time to think about what I want to do."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace, and leave him alone in his room.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Steve and Jason stop by your work the next day, and since you're busy stocking shelves you're able to talk to them as they pretend to shop nearby. Naturally, the conversation is about how to deal with Huber's raid. "Do we start at the top, or start at the bottom?" Patterson asks. "Start with Huber, or start with one of his fuck buddies?"<br/>
<br/>
You understand exactly the nature of the question. If you start with Huber, it will look like you're just punishing ringleaders, and only as you start working your way down will it occur to the assholes that every single one of them is going to be in for pain. On the other hand, if you start at the bottom, with someone like Danny Russo, it will be instantly obvious that you're targeting the whole crew, which will give each of them something to dread. The downside is that then they'll start taking precautions.<br/>
<br/>
But precautions won't matter if you've got masks and magic on your side.<br/>
<br/>
"Bottom up," you mutter as you slide some jars of pickles on the shelves. "Start with McElroy. He's low enough down they'll get the message, and it won't look like we're not trying to get hurt."<br/>
<br/>
"School or outside of school? What kind of treatment?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll grab him at his locker before third period, take him out to the portables. We'll start small, give the rest of those -- " There's a fat lady nearby. She probably can't hear you, but the word "cocksuckers" might stand out. "Give the rest of them something to look forward to as we start ramping it up. We'll strip him and leave him the tutu."<br/>
<br/>
Jason sniggers. "Great, 'cept there goes the tutu and then we'll have to get another."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll tell him he can have his clothes back in trade for it," says Patterson. "After that?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll improvise. But keep your phones on. If I see any of those guys hanging out somewhere outside school by themselves, I might call you to come in for a strike."<br/>
<br/>
That's the best you can think to do to prepare them for the kind of ambush you and Gordon are planning for the masks: Lure the victims someplace, then call Steve and Jason to the same spot.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea has been doing her part too, using her social contacts not only to nail down the identities of the perps but also where they work or hang out, and who with. You already know how to get at Huber and Mitchell, but her texts give you solid leads on Ratliff, Nieves, Palendech, Schmitz, Russo, and Ansell. During your breaks you text back your gratitudes to her.<br/>
<br/>
But when work is done, you race off to see Gordon. You're dying to know -- but dreading, too -- how last night's date with Cassie Harper went.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh, we talked," Will says nonchalantly. "She talked. You know how she is. So she talked, a lot. Until I grabbed her hand."<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting in the backyard of you old house. You're tired of having to meet at the elementary school, so you'd gone straight to the house and given your uncomprehending mother the excuse that you needed to talk to Will about a school project. Will played it very cool when he came down the stairs in answer to her summons, and you have the impression that you looked a lot more nervous than he did. <br/>
<br/>
Something in the way he was walking bothered you, too. He didn't just saunter with you out into the yard. He <i>strutted.</i><br/>
<br/>
"You grabbed her hand," you repeat with a gulp. "Like how?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, she just had it on the table in front of us -- "<br/>
<br/>
"This was at Panera?" That's where he said he'd taken her, for fancy coffee and scones. Someplace where it could be date-like without the pressure.<br/>
<br/>
"At first."<br/>
<br/>
"At first?" That one comes out as a gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't spend the whole time there. How about you shut up and let me tell you about it?" He leaned back with the weary sigh of one who was vaguely bored by it all.<br/>
<br/>
"So she spent most of the time talking, and I listened. Not super close, you know, but I picked out what was important to hear."<br/>
<br/>
"You've got practice at that," you retort. He's driving you nuts with this too-cool-for-old-school act of his.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. And I listened and looked at her, and around about that point that she started to look like she was losing steam, I put my hand on hers."<br/>
<br/>
"What did she do?" Maybe Cassie could have survived it, but just the telling is making you faint.<br/>
<br/>
"She got all pink and stopped talking. So I told her a few things about what I thought of what she'd been telling me. You know, so she'd know I'd been paying attention. I rubbed her hand while I did that."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what you do with Chelsea, except she doesn't shut up -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Will you stop bringing my girlfriend into it?" he says. "So I used what I know, so what? So I knew how to snuggle up close to her while walking out to the car, then pushed her up close to it and give her a little kiss at the side of her neck."<br/>
<br/>
You roll onto your back and groan.<br/>
<br/>
"Then we went out to the river. You want a play by play of what happened then?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you squeak, and hope that he'll give it to you anyway.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. The highlight is we were out there for an hour. We didn't take anything off, and we didn't touch anything that wasn't already hanging out in the open. But I let her feel how big and stiff she made me, and we got tangled up a lot in the mouth regions. She's been dreaming about you so hard for so long, you know."</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321121111212
author_id: seuzz
title: The Surging Seas of Indecision
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Gordon's story has given you a lot to think about. It's too bad that it also causes your brain to shut down. After a very long moment of silence, you tell him that you have to leave. <br/>
<br/>
"You're not pissed at me, are you?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I just have to go before my head explodes."<br/>
<br/>
And you trudge out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You drive around in a daze, and through force of habit almost wind up at Chelsea's before redirecting yourself back to Caleb's. Supper is almost ready, and you help out Mrs. Johansson with the final steps before sitting down for the meal. She talks to her son a little, then asks you why you're so quiet. "Oh, I just got back from talking to a friend. He had some news."<br/>
<br/>
"Not bad news, I hope," she says.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb snickers, then turns it into a cough.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Just something to think about."<br/>
<br/>
You're silent the rest of the meal, and while helping to clean up. When you go to the bedroom, you have to pass Caleb's room. He's standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "I assume that was Prescott you were talking about at supper."<br/>
<br/>
You glare at him, then shove him inside his room and shut the door. "You heard about his date?"<br/>
<br/>
"All the way down to the micro-details. What was your favorite part, the bit where she was sucking on his fingers, or the part where she had her legs wrapped around his neck?"<br/>
<br/>
Something between a roar and a shriek starts to build low in your chest. You push out the words, "I didn't ask for details."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry, I can set you up with them," Caleb says cheerfully. "I copied them down, got them around here somewhere -- "<br/>
<br/>
"That would be great," you say in a choked voice. "But it's Cassie Harper!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with Cassie. I don't think so, and you don't either, not to judge by that thing squirming around in the front of your shorts."<br/>
<br/>
You snatch the pillow off his bed and shove it over your lap as you sit on his bed. "What am I going to do when we go back to being ourselves? I can't hang out with her, do the kind of stuff with her that Gordon was doing!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just can't!"<br/>
<br/>
His mouth twists mirthfully. "Are you scared to try?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes! I mean, no! I mean I just can't -- " That rising scream has gotten stuck in your chest, where it is squeezing all the air out. You're going to hyperventilate in a moment. "He's getting me a girlfriend!"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought that was the plan. That's what he told me was the plan."<br/>
<br/>
"But I can't just take over from him when it's time to switch back! I won't know how to talk to her, how to be the way with her that he's being -- !"<br/>
<br/>
"So are you going to stop giving me shit about Eva?"<br/>
<br/>
It's like he threw a basketball at your face. "What's that got to do with -- ? Oh!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! Oh!" Caleb rolls his eyes. "Now you understand why I just couldn't pick things up and go out with Eva after all that work you supposedly did for me."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't 'supposedly' do any work for you, I really did -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Same as Gordon is doing for you and Cassie."<br/>
<br/>
"But this is totally worse! I just set you up for some dates. Gordon is going to -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Then maybe you should switch back with him now, while it's still only just a date and he hasn't set you up for going steady with her."<br/>
<br/>
Now it's like being hit in the other side of the head with a baseball bat. "Switch back? Hell, yes!" With trembling hands you take out your cell, but your fingers are too numb to work it properly. "Here, you call him," you say, and thrust the phone at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing, Will," he says cheerfully. "I'll call up Gordon, and tell him you want to switch back so you can break Cassie's heart by dropping her hard, and you also want to give up all the time you've been spending with Chelsea. He'll be really happy to hear about the last part."<br/>
<br/>
Now you're being beaten up from both sides. You put your head between your knees, and fall out of the chair. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. I don't know what to do, Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you better figure it out. Because if you're going to switch back, you need to do it soon, before -- " The cell in his hand rings. "Says it's Chelsea. You want me to -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
But you're up and have grabbed it from him. Then you're outside his bedroom and talking into the phone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It wasn't a long talk, or about anything very important, but it was enough to slow your rush back toward your life. You kept thinking of her boobs and her butt and her legs and her pouty lips, and of the intense thrill that comes from having the high-maintenance cheerleader captain hanging off your side and impaling herself on your cock. Eventually Gordon will want her back. But you're not so eager now to throw away Chelsea so you can have the chance to throw away Cassie.<br/>
<br/>
You force yourself to finish up the little homework you have left, and go to bed. In the dark, you rise and fall as you think about the two girls, and whether you can handle at least one of them in your native form. It seems impossible. You have all of Gordon's memories of doing it with Chelsea, and you can easily imagine all the things he could do with Cassie, even with clothes still on. The resulting fantasies are so intense you almost levitate from the bed. But could <i>you</i> do them, as yourself?<br/>
<br/>
The next morning, a newly risen Caleb intercepts you just before you leave for the school. "Hey," he says in a voice still sticky with sleep. "Did, uh, you and Will talk about what you're going to do about those guys?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh. Huber and his friends.</i> "No. Why do you care?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't." He rubs his eyes deeply. "I just know he's going to bug me about it today, and you should tell me what -- " He blinks. "Oh yeah, and did he tell you anything about making up a new mask yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Did he? How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"For your thing. In case you need it."<br/>
<br/>
He's way too sleepy to be worth talking to. "I'll talk to him about it later. Maybe he'll be awake and I can figure out what he's talking about."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb gives you a dirty look, and if he hadn't heard his mom in the hallway behind he probably would have given you the finger.<br/>
<br/>
But Gordon doesn't come talk to you. He just leaves the new mask in a paper sack inside your locker, where you find it at the start of first period. You move it into your backpack, in case Chelsea goes snooping through your locker.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Matthew McElroy is a lineman on the football team, but he's probably the smallest lineman on the team. But, being a lineman, he's definitely meaty. He's also pretty agile.<br/>
<br/>
So you and Steve and Jason approach him from two directions when you make the hit just before third period. He's alone at his locker, except for a girl he's talking to in a casual way. That's probably why he doesn't pay any mind to you as you approach, even though he's facing in your direction. You arrive at his side just as Steve and Jason arrive on the other.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Bang!</i> You punch the locker next to his face. He jumps and cusses, but before he can react Steve seizes his arm. He whirls, and you grab his other arm. Jason's shout sounds over the scream of the girl McElroy was hitting on, and that's the signal for you and Patterson to move. With your victim's arms locked in yours, you force him into the crowd. He stumbles and falls forward; Jason grabs his legs. Now McElroy is splayed out horizontally, like a battering ram as you and Patterson, cursing lustily at the screaming crowd, force your way through.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, shit!" McElroy yells as you rush at the doors, and he flinches hard. But you kick them open before you can bust his skull against its reinforced windows. Then you and Patterson are running hard across the ground toward the portables. The sound of your approach causes the ragged stoners flocked in front to scatter.<br/>
<br/>
McElroy has been surprisingly docile all this time, but he comes to squirming life when you slam him against a portable wall. "Get the door open," you snarl at Jason, and he obliges as you and Patterson twist McElroy's arms behind his back. You lock his wrists together in your grip, and force him up and into the portable, ramming him gut-first into the edge of a the old teacher's desk. The air busts out of him, and you ram him against it three more times until his knees bend and his legs sag. You keep him pinned as your friends pull off his shoes, socks, pants, and boxers. You tear a great rent in his shirt as you pull it over his head. <br/>
<br/>
Then you let him go. McElroy turns over, showing no shame at exposing slab-like muscles and a hairy dick-and-ball-sack as he grins up at you. "Great party Friday night, huh?" he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
Jason has been stuffing McElroy's clothes into his backpack, and he hands you the old, frayed pink tutu. You drop it onto McElroy. "You want your shit back? Put that on, and come find me in the gym at the end of third period."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs again. "Is that all?"<br/>
<br/>
Is it? You could use that mask on him. It might prove useful.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211112121
author_id: heyyy3
title: Another Disguise
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"The fuck you mean,  McElroy?" You growl to him as he's leaning against a desk.  <br/>
<br/>
He holds up the tutu you threw at him. "This is your punishment? To wear this fucking thing? I don't give a shit. I'll parade around school wearing this," he says as he snickers.<br/>
<br/>
His words alarm you. He's right. He wouldn't care if he was forced to wear this. This as a punishment is childish and McElroy sees right through it. This gets Gordon's or your, anger heightened. Then an idea begins to unfold in your head.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah you're right McElroy. This isn't punishment enough." Some of the color begins to retreat from his face and there is no more laughter.  <br/>
<br/>
"Steve, Jason.  Can you give me and my friend some privacy?" You call to your two friends and they leave as you slam the door behind them.  <br/>
<br/>
You turn to face McElroy, who looks to have shrunk by about a half a foot. There is no more color to his face and this is truly the first time you sense his fear. You try to play him to see if there's any remorse towards the situation, before you continue with the plan. <br/>
<br/>
"I didn't really like what happened at Chelsea's the other night. " Now as he sees what this is about he becomes more relaxed.  <br/>
<br/>
"Dude it was a party, shits gonna go down. You of all people should know that." <br/>
<br/>
" Well not at my fucking girlfriends house! Coming to a party you weren't even invited to!" You cut in.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey dude,  if I hear about a party I'm gonna come to it. Anyway, why are you so salty about it? The word around has been you and Chelsea are on the way out. I'm surprised  you aren't hooking up with someone else."<br/>
<br/>
That has you stop dead in your tracks. "What the fuck did you just say McElroy?" Your tone growing even more harsh. <br/>
<br/>
Again he's startled, as you notice him clear his throat. "I'm just saying that people have been talking of a break up between you too. I mean in sure Chelsea is a nice girl and all, but you could probably do better."<br/>
<br/>
It takes almost all the power you could possibly muster to avoid flipping your shit. This makes your decision all the more easier .<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna retract that statement McElroy?" You say as calmly as you can. <br/>
<br/>
"Nah dude, I've said what needs to be said." He's grins even more. <br/>
<br/>
You begin to walk over you him and you notice he tries to sink more and more into the desk. <br/>
<br/>
"So McElroy I've rethought some things. You have enlightened me. I'm gonna give you one more time to retract what you said before. "<br/>
<br/>
After a few moments McElroy becomes unmuted. "No Gordon I'm not gonna do it cause I know it's the truth." He folds his arms. "What are you gonna do about it Gordon? Rough me up?" <br/>
<br/>
Well that's exactly what you do, as you sucker punch him on the side of the head. That instantly knocks him out. Aware of Gordon's full strength you were sure of not to use all of it because that would surely kill him. So you use just enough force to knock him out cold.  <br/>
<br/>
You get that mask from your backpack and shove it to his face.  Waiting the few minutes  you play on your phone and wonder about what's gonna happen next. The mask reappears on his face and you snatch it and put it in your backpack. You're sure to put the tutu right next to him so he knows what to do with it.<br/>
<br/>
Coming out of the portable you find Steve and Jason. "What the hell did you do in there?" Steve asks. "Yeah dude what did you do?" Jason asks like a shadowing 12 year old. <br/>
<br/>
"Let's just say McElroy got the message across." You say to them. <br/>
<br/>
"Jesus Gordon you didn't fuck him up too bad, did you?" Steve asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No dude he's fine. He got the message across that we mean business that's all." You take off your backpack. "Lynch give them those clothes and the shoes you got. I'm gonna hold onto them for the time being." <br/>
<br/>
Jason makes no hesitation and opens up his backpack and gives you McElroy's things. <br/>
<br/>
"I'll meet you guys in the loft after school, or I'll just see you guys at practice. I gotta take care of some things." You say to them and they say they'll catch you later then. <br/>
<br/>
Now with a copy of McElroy and an actual set of clothes you can add this to the pile with Huber and Mitchell</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211112122
author_id: seuzz
title: Who To Be, Or Who Not To Be
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Why didn't you?" Will demands.<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb and the real Gordon Black are sprawling in Caleb's bedroom. As usual, Caleb is sitting in the chair by his desk and leaning back in a way that blocks his closet door. Will is perched on the dresser by the window. You are stretched on the bed, which groans under the weight of Gordon's body every time you shift.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I didn't see any point in it," you tell him. "So we'd have a mask of McElroy, so what? We can use Huber and Mitchell's masks to get to people if we have to. And I didn't want McElroy to see it, even if he didn't know what it was."<br/>
<br/>
Will grumbles and shrugs, but accedes. "How'd the rest of it go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like shit. So me and Lynch go to the gym during third, but we hang out on the weight deck instead of going to the loft. We do some lifts, you know." You ignore the way Caleb rolls his eyes. "So McElroy comes in, and he's wearing the tutu, nothing else. There's a bunch of sophomores or juniors or something playing down on the court, and they all stop and whistle at him, but the fucker just plays along, does a couple of these ballet-like jumps, gets everyone laughing. Me and Lynch give him a lot of shit when he comes up to the deck, but he just grins and we have to give him his clothes back 'cos Coach Brooks is gonna come out any time. Fucker."<br/>
<br/>
Will has reddened. "So it was a fucking waste of time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Seems like it. I kept an ear cocked in the cafeteria. Huber and his guys were all laughing extra hard."<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna have to ramp it up, Prescott," Will says.<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you do to Russo? I heard you hit  him sixth period."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we gave him the same treatment we gave McElroy."<br/>
<br/>
"That's all? Why didn't you -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you wanna take over, cocksucker? Then you can fucking take over so you can do it your way!" You jump to your feet. "Except I <i>am</i> doing it your way! I know what you want to do, and Patterson's with me, okay? We're letting 'em think with the first few guys that there's nothing else coming, that they can fucking laugh it off, but we're gonna ramp it up."<br/>
<br/>
"How?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're gonna break out the duct tape tomorrow. Make some mummies."<br/>
<br/>
Will snorts. "They'll just laugh that off too."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you want? We can't break bones or destroy property."<br/>
<br/>
"They did at Chelsea's."<br/>
<br/>
You fall onto the bed with a sigh. "I know. But that was just at her place. We can't break furniture at all their places."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't even hurt Russo or McElroy."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what do you suggest, fucker? You think you can come up with ideas that I can't?"<br/>
<br/>
Will hops off the dresser and stalks from the bedroom. Caleb regards you soberly for a moment before speaking.<br/>
<br/>
"I really hope you're not trying your best, Will," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, man. Why shouldn't I, it was fucking humiliating what those fucks did at Chelsea's!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not what I meant. I meant, if this is the best you can come up with without breaking any laws, what's Gordon going to do? Is he going to come back with ideas about <i>really</i> hurting people?"<br/>
<br/>
You let out a long groan. "So what do you want me to do? Try less hard so Gordon will try less hard too?"<br/>
<br/>
"How about you switch back with him? What exactly is the point of you guys pretending to be each other still? You got Gordon away from his dad and his girlfriend's sucking him off again. You fixed his shit for him. Or is that it that you want to keep doing it with Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
You groan again, but more pleasurably now, and think of Chelsea in a way that makes you hard. "Maybe. There's also that I don't want to fucking work at Salopek, and he's got me hooked up with Cassie Harper. Did they do anything together today?"<br/>
<br/>
"Cassie ate lunch with us. We all hung out with Ioeger and them."<br/>
<br/>
You cover your face with his pillow and punch yourself a couple of times. "That is wrong in so many ways. What's Gordon hanging out with them for? He hates Ioeger and Lamont."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he's changing his mind. Or maybe -- Do you want him having lunch with Cassie alone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. So that's another reason you should really think about changing back. Because the longer you hang out this way, the harder it's going to be to go back because it's not going to be your life any more."<br/>
<br/>
You toss the pillow aside to look at him. "So, how about you and me switching? We'll let Gordon go back to being himself, you can be me, and I can be you."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's the way all this shit started, wasn't it? Us pretending to be each other? You can hang out at Salopek long enough to get yourself fired and to break up with Cassie, then I can -- "<br/>
<br/>
The door opens again, but just enough for Will to put his head into room. "I'm taking off," he says. "I'll catch you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, check the fire on your way back home, will you?" Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not on the way, but I will." Your replacement vanishes.<br/>
<br/>
"What fire?" you ask. Caleb gives you a withering look, which you blankly return until it comes to you. "Oh. Right. I keep forgetting to check on it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you've had other things on your mind," he retorts. "It went out last night, and I had to restart it this morning on the way to school."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, how long is it supposed to burn?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "The book says until it doesn't relight."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You check it yourself the next morning, on your way to school. The berm of earth has begun to pull it self into a more solid-looking mass, but it has cracked in a couple of places, which worries you. What if you screwed up the spell?<br/>
<br/>
You and your friends take care of two more people: Liam Walker and Thomas Schmitz. In the first case, you and Patterson and Lynch carry him out to the portables, strip him, and duct tape him to one of the desks, leaving him to holler for a rescue. Schmitz you carry into the boys' locker room, strip, and duct tape to the walls of the shower just before a sophomore class is slated to come in. The plan is to let Huber's friends know that the punishments are getting worse and that you're building up slowly.<br/>
<br/>
"What if Cameron apologized?" Chelsea asks you at lunch. You and she are stretched out in the loft. You're leaning on your elbow and she's sheltering in the crook of your arm as you feed her in between taking bites of the food yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"I give up, what if Cameron apologized?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, seriously. What if he said he was sorry for what he did at the party Saturday?"<br/>
<br/>
"He still has to take his punishment."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you asking this, Chels? He's not going to -- "<br/>
<br/>
"I got a text from Anne last period." That would be Anne Starkey, Cameron's girlfriend. "She wanted to know what you'd do if Cameron apologized."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking pussy," you grumble. "Sending his girlfriend to beg."<br/>
<br/>
"I know."<br/>
<br/>
"You should blast her text all over the school so the whole place will know what a pussy he is."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea is silent a moment. "Could that be his punishment?" She sits up. "Like, he has to print out a bunch of copies of his apology and tape them up around school?"<br/>
<br/>
You only grunt. "I don't see him going for it, and I don't think an apology's enough."<br/>
<br/>
"But I don't want you getting into any real trouble, pookie," she says. "And it would be pretty humiliating, right, really show what a -- " She demurely sidesteps the word "pussy." "What a chicken he is."<br/>
<br/>
"It's just an apology, there's nothing -- "<br/>
<br/>
"But he's begging to be let off. Like you said, he's using his girlfriend to beg for mercy."<br/>
<br/>
"Psht. Except he's not. Huber's not <i>that</i> big of a pussy. This is just Anne trying to figure out a way to save his ass from me and Steve."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you want me to tell her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell her to talk to her boyfriend, find out if he's a real pussy or not."<br/>
<br/>
But she's given you another idea.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What are you doing, you jerk? Leave him alone!" So yells Cassie Harper, but you ignore her cries as you carry Will Prescott out the back of the school toward the portables. You're not even halfway there when you see the cluster of students in front of it start to disperse, like they know you're coming. <i>Damn it, you're spending too much time out there lately.</i><br/>
<br/>
"If you're trying to get me laid, you're doing a good job," Will chortles when you set him on his feet again. "Cassie's gonna be all over me when I see her again, making sure I'm alright."<br/>
<br/>
That wasn't what you wanted to talk to him about, but since he's raised it: "When do you want your life back?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, when do you want yours back?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want to get back with Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, yeah. But you done such a good job with my life, I thought I'd let you collect the reward." He cocks his head. "But how about a deadline? Like, when that new spell's ready, we'll switch back?"<br/>
<br/>
You waver. "I'll check it tonight after practice, then we'll talk. But right now, I've got another idea, about how to handle Huber." You outline the idea to him.<br/>
<br/>
He likes it, and says so. "Thing is, you're gonna need two people to pull it off. You wanna play Huber?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you'd want to do that."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "That's the important part. But I don't mind playing Mitchell and keeping Huber distracted while you do the real business."</span></div></div>


