# chapters

path: 1133121212212121121111122221111121212113
author_id: rugal
title: Getting Izzy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"This feels so much better," you mutter to yourself as you quickly run hands over Coach Acuna's body. Not that Gail's body felt bad but by this point the Coach's is far more comfortable... and equally comforting and <i>dis</i>comforting. Comforting because there's a familiarity that you now associate with wearing it, discomforting because it's the mask that started this whole mess that turned Shelly Nolan into a statue and landed you in a situation you're not totally comfortable with in an attempt to help her.<br/>
<br/>
And you do make sure to insist to yourself, as you put on the tracksuit and other clothing that's been stashed here for Coach Acuna's mask, that you're only helping Vee to help Shelly. You barely want to admit to yourself that you're as concerned with saving your own ass and you certainly don't believe you actually care about what Vee wants. This is a partnership of convenience and nothing else. The first step of course is getting the mask onto the right person to get close to Alex and fortunately as you're finding out now that you're in her mask, Coach Acuna gives you an easy in.<br/>
<br/>
As it turns out the Coach and the Santos family attend the same church and through that attendance have become good friends. So Coach Acuna swinging by the Santos residence for a chat would in no way be out of the ordinary. And that's just what you plan on doing as you take the smartphone Vee left you and shoot a text to your golem doppelganger telling him to get the truck running because you're coming out.<br/>
<br/>
You'd had to contact him to get a ride over to the church as though Vee left you with money it was all in cash so you had no way to Uber over and once you're back outside you say nothing but tell him to head to an address that, on his phone's map app, points to a neighborhood off of Filmore.<br/>
<br/>
"So what are doing?" he finally asks being the first to break the ice.<br/>
<br/>
"I already told you, going to that address," you answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay but I mean what's the point?"<br/>
<br/>
You grunt. "None of your business and it's better if you're not totally clued in anyway," you tell him as you stare out the window. "Just drive there and stay in the truck until I tell you to leave. No, wait," you interrupt yourself, "actually just take off after dropping me off. It's easier that way."<br/>
<br/>
"Well I think that it'd probably be easier if I knew what was going on!" he exclaims with a slight whine in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
"It's for my safety as much as it is yours so zip it," you tell him in frustration.<br/>
<br/>
The ride out to the Santos home is silent the rest of the way.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You knock on the door and wait. It's a minute or two before you hear a lock click and the door swings open. What greets you is a girl with an oversized sweater and a thick bob parted and divided neatly between her natural black and a lighter shade of purple. And though looking a little bleary her face -- with its button nose, large lips, thick eyebrows and mischievous eyes -- is as cute as it seemed in the pictures you'd looked at.<br/>
<br/>
That bleary face soon turns to one of surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"Coach!" she exclaims sharply. "Wasn't expecting you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you know," you shrug, "I was just in the area and figured I'd drop in and say hi." You give the girl a warm smile. "Are your parents around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Out," she says with a slow hesitation. "It's a late lunch thing. I think. Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh no, don't worry about it," you reassure her. "Actually I was wanting to talk to <i>you</i>. Mind if I come in for a minute?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure?" the girl says as she steps aside to let you in, closing the door behind her. "So what did you w--"<br/>
<br/>
She never gets a chance to finish completing that thought before you've smashed the mask into her face. But you have no idea when Isabel's parents are going to be back so no way can you wait and do a transfer here. Instead you figure that it's best to do it in the girl's room. Unfortunately that girl is currently passed out on the floor of her living room. Thankfully Coach Acuna's taken some safety courses and, though it takes a bit of work because she's complete dead weight, you're able to get her in a fireman's carry position, get her into her room, dump her on her bed and lock the door as you wait for the mask to reappear.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh god, oh lord, please..." The golem that looks like Kristen Wright-Wallace is practically hyperventilating. "D-don't... don't do anything to me! Please!"<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" you say and though you only move to sit on the bed the golem still flinches.<br/>
<br/>
"I... I don't know," she says with terrified exasperation. "Hit me or... or capture me? Kill me?" Her eyes widen when she says that. "Oh god no, please don't kill me!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to kill you," you sigh as you grab the clothing that Vee had used when smuggling you out and toss it at her. "I just want you to put that on and then get out of my sight."<br/>
<br/>
Kristen looks at the clothing first with an element of disgust but when she looks and sees you glaring at her it disappears and, with a look of fear, slips it on. She's quiet, outside of whimpering, for moment before she gets up to leave. "Wait," you call out to her causing her to stop with a start. Slowly she turns around to face you. <br/>
<br/>
"Y-yeah?" she asks nervously.<br/>
<br/>
"Where do you think you are?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you for moment and then looks around the room, a look of confusion on her face. In defeat her shoulders slump as she looks back at you. "I don't know," she admits. "It doesn't look familiar."<br/>
<br/>
"Good, that's what I was hoping," you reply. "What about me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't look familiar either."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean who do you think I am? Who do you think I <i>really</i> am?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who are..." Kristen stops herself and you see the gears in her head start to spin. Who could you really be she wonders. It seems to come to her as you see her face light up. "Will? You're... are you Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Got it one go," you state.<br/>
<br/>
That seems to cause a new sense of panic for her. "Ohgodohgodohgod, Will! I'm... I'm sorry! It wasn't... it wasn't <i>me</i> doing that stuff to you," she pleads. "It was Abi! The mask of her! It was influencing me to do all that and.. and.."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, look," you say with annoyance as you raise a hand, "I'm not about to do anything to you, I just wanted you to know that I've switched."<br/>
<br/>
"Why? Is that who you're going to be?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you tell her, "and I'm not going to tell you either. But I know what's going on with Vee and I'm on her side so I want you to tell her that I've switched. I'll get in touch with her about the specifics later."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not just tell me?" asks Kristen.<br/>
<br/>
You grunt. "Because I've noticed an exploit in Vee's program," you answer, "so I want to keep things largely between me and her. Anyone else, even you, and this could become very bad." With that you fish out the money you have left and practically toss it at her. "I called a cab before you showed up and it should be here right about now. Take it, get out of here. Go back to St. Xavier's and talk to Vee. Just make yourself as scarce as possible as fast as possible."<br/>
<br/>
Kristen gulps but doesn't argue and instead nods and practically dashes out the front door. You quickly close it and make sure it's locked. Then you lay back onto the bed and pull off Coach Acuna's mask.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You put on the finishing touches by taking the small little black necklace -- almost a choker but not really big enough for that -- with the equally tiny crescent moon that hangs from it and placing it around your neck as you head out the door. It was something you picked up for cheap but it's a cute little accessory that you like a lot and find it works with most of your outfits.<br/>
<br/>
Although your fashion sense is a little more eccentric as currently you're wearing an oversized striped sweater that looks like your dear abuela's couch over a pair of ratty old jeans fashioned into short jean shorts by hacking off most everything below the pockets and a pair of high top Chucks it works for you. You tingle a little bit as the late afternoon autumn air is starting to get just a little crisp and you like the way that it feels on your bare thighs.<br/>
<br/>
The thought of it and how nice it feels actually makes you giggle a little bit while you wait for Alex to arrive since she'd messaged you a few minutes ago saying that she was on her way.<br/>
<br/>
Yeah, you don't have the style of Rae Caldwell but that's okay because you're not trying to be Rae, you're trying to be you... or rather you're trying to be <i>her</i>: Isabel Maria Santos León. Izzy, as the girl prefers to be known.</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211111212121131
author_id: rugal
title: Feeling Izzy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>made a switch. im a girl named izzy santos<br/>
one of alexs bffs<br/>
and get this<br/>
her brother goes to st x<br/>
gabe? you probably know him</i><br/>
<br/>
That's the series of texts you shoot off from the burner phone to Vee letting her know where you are. You wanted to tell her yourself as opposed to telling the Kristen golem because you're now a little paranoid about anything leaking out. Not out of real concern for Vee of course but if the others figure out what she's doing then they'll get a mask on her and it won't be long before they'll have turned your rescue into a trap. You hope they'd figure that with you gone it's not wroth it but you also highly suspect they'd treat you as someone who "knows too much" and would thus need to be dealt with.<br/>
<br/>
Of course that makes you now immediately realize how dumb it is to tell Vee herself where you are because if they <i>do</i> get suspicious and <i>do</i> make a mask then they'd know. But you can't leave her in the dark and you think it feels better to think that you have at least some level of control over what's going on.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I know who that is.</i><br/>
<br/>
Vee's reply causes you smirk to because of <i>course</i> she'd type all proper. Though it's not like Izzy herself shorthands much either.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I went by the church and saw your stuff was gone.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>thought coach's mask would help<br/>
turns out she knows the santoses<br/>
so i'd say it did</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Hmm...<br/>
Don't like you deciding things like that on your own.<br/>
But I guess it's fine for now.<br/>
Do what you can and keep me informed.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>k</i><br/>
<br/>
"Who you talkin' to?" asks Alex while keeping her eyes on the road. Contrary to her otherwise reputation, she's a pretty attentive driver.<br/>
<br/>
"Just some friends," you answer.<br/>
<br/>
"New phone? Looks cheap."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah. My parents were starting to get real asky about what I'm doing with my friends," you tell her, "so like I just bought a little cheap one I can use to throw 'em off track."<br/>
<br/>
"Ha!" Alex laughs, "Damn that's a good idea. 'Course my parents govern with a pretty light hand so I guess it's not something I've gotta worry about. I don't have, like, super Catholic parents or anything like you."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug and simply tell her that it is what it is. You continue talking as you drive to your destination and you find that Alex is strangely enchanting. She's energetic... almost too energetic as she seems to at times trip over her thoughts and digress but it's earnest and in a way endearing. She's a very charismatic person you decide and not bad to look at besides. If, like Vee said, she's rich too it becomes incredibly easy to see why Vee targeted her as her new identity. For Alex Day it seems as if the whole world is her oyster.<br/>
<br/>
For Izzy Santos on the other hand, the world is something to be enjoyed. Her parents were always strict and restrictive: mass on Sundays, strict curfews, no real exposure to a lot. Izzy would, of course, do as she was told until late elementary school when she started to get curious. She'd sneak peeks at things she wasn't supposed to see, go where she wasn't supposed to, and had gotten good at sneaking around behind her parents' back. Then her older brother got accepted to St. Xavier's and it wasn't long before her parents started to ease up.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it was because they had a kid who was going to "make it" in a good environment or something but with Gabe not around quite as much they eased up on Izzy considerably, though not fully. You can't imagine, for instance, that they would've approved of Alex a few years ago but you'd guess being friends with Gabe gave someone like her a bit of a cushion. Even then it's not like she tells her parents the details either. So long as Izzy's not getting in trouble she's simply "hanging out with friends" as far as they're aware.<br/>
<br/>
When you look at Alex with Izzy's eyes you see a lot of admiration. Oh Izzy can snark at her almost as much as Rae does but it's not at all hard to admire someone so free spirited who seems to act on her whims and do what she enjoys. It's also hard not to feel Izzy's admiration for Rae as well when you think of her. Someone that cool, confident and composed caring not a bit for the approval of other, how could she not?<br/>
<br/>
It's why Izzy likes doing shoots for Rae, capturing and spreading Alex's newest projects, filming and shooting and uploading whatever. She's always figured it was her previously sheltered, cloistered upbringing that did it but she finds the world cool, surprising and fun and wants to capture and enjoy as much of it as she can even if being around Alex can some times be a little dangerous. But isn't that part of the fun?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Alexis Alexandra Alexia Day you have really outdone yourself," Rae says as she walks around inside the old run down theater. "Mildew and cobwebs and seats with mystery stains really add to the spooky factor. And I'm sure when everyone sees their first rat, the threat of Plague will add a realistic scare factor to the scary movies."<br/>
<br/>
"I aim to please," Alex says proudly. "What about you Izzy? Whatcha think?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think it's going to take me like a week's worth of showering to actually get clean," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Bah! It's fine! It'll build character," insists Alex.<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of character?" you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
"The kind that makes you think it's a great idea to show old movies in crumbling piles of shit," Rae answers.<br/>
<br/>
You snicker at that. Rae is definitely feeling extra crabby on account of the booze the three of you and some other friends consumed in excessive amounts as part of a Halloween celebration. You can definitely tell Izzy is feeling the effects too but maybe her spirited nature makes it easier for her to put aside and deal with compared to her more cynical friend.<br/>
<br/>
Alex had only told you a little bit about her plan -- a post-Halloween Halloween party -- on the way to grab Rae from Cherry Brook Bakery and that was all that was relayed to Rae as well but that was all that had been said. It wasn't until Alex had busted into the Old State Theater, an abandoned old dump whose main residents are rats and other creepy crawlies, that she'd revealed the full extent of her plan: use her fancy projector to show old horror movies inside the theater with lots of booze and food and fun for everyone.<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of which...<br/>
<br/>
"Hey so what <i>are</i> we gonna eat anyway?" you ask. "And the drinks?"<br/>
<br/>
"We've got suppliers for the granular ambrosia," states Alex, "but shit I totally forgot the food. What'd even be good on short notice? Donuts?"<br/>
<br/>
"After you got your ass banned from Don's?" Rae says raising an eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
"Details, Caldwell. 'Sides we got ways around that," she states as she pulls out a wallet, opens it up and gives you a fancy looking credit card. "You're still in good standing at Don's, aintcha Izzy?"<br/>
<br/>
"I am if you let me splurge for me too," you tease. Alex laughs but you know that it's in a way that's rejecting the idea... not that you were serious about it. "Stick to the donuts for now. You good for an Uber?"<br/>
<br/>
"Still got my job so I've got money. Be back shortly," you call out as you head out the door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're in the backseat of your Uber, a bag filled with four boxes of donuts next to you and headed back to the theater, when your phone goes off and you notice it's a text from Gabe. <i>just got home. you out?</i> it reads.<br/>
<br/>
<i>doin somethin w/ friends tonite. you?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>gettin ready for the shitstorm tmrw lol</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>what's up,</i> you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<i>dunno<br/>
someone overheard prefects chattering<br/>
gonna be doing something but no one knows</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>sucks. hopefully its nothing</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>probly but they like to be hard asses so who knows?<br/>
guess i'll see you tmrw?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>maybe. gotta get home before church though lol<br/>
seeya</i><br/>
<br/>
With the conversation ended you now can't help but feel antsy. The paranoia from earlier is starting to creep its way back in and its got you more spooked than any of the movies Alex will be showing. Could it be related to the masks? Maybe Kristen wanted to be Abi and found out what's going on and if she did... you don't want to think about it. Because now Vee will have a huge target painted on her back and with her out of the way they could come after you, eliminate a loose end. Given that you've told her where you are if they get a mask or mind band onto her then they'll know who you are too.<br/>
<br/>
They could get to you pretty easily but they could also put pressure on Izzy's brother to put pressure on you as well. You definitely don't want anything like that happening and you wonder if you should message Vee and warn her that the situation might be compromised.<br/>
<br/>
But if you did would she take you seriously? She seems awfully confident about everything and definitely wants your focus to be on her plan. You could always be paranoid about nothing as well so it might be better to just leave her alone and let her take care of things on her end while you worry about things on yours.</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222111112121211311
author_id: rugal
title: Properly Paranoid?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You want to believe that things are going to turn out fine but as your ride continues the thought gnaws at the back of your mind and as it continues you become more uncomfortable, more restless. Vee might be confident but confidence will mean nothing when Kristen blabs to everyone else and they ambush her. They'll know she has a mind band of you. They'll know where to find it. They'll know how to stick the real Vee so far under a golemized mask of someone -- Kristen probably -- that she'll never see the light of day again.<br/>
<br/>
Once that's done, they'll come for you. You're sure they will. It'd be too dangerous to leave you around after all, you might eventually get suspicious and much things up for them so when Vee is dealt with you'll have to be dealt with too. Sticking you under a golemized mask of Izzy would be the nice thing too. They seemed pretty serious with their threats of greater harm. Harm that could ultimately be fatal.<br/>
<br/>
The embers of paranoia fully stoked into a raging fire now, you pull out your burner phone and send a text to Vee. <i>we need to talk,</i> you tell her. <i>just heard some worrying stuff from izzys bro</i>.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes?</i> comes the reply.<br/>
<br/>
<i>prefects are up to something<br/>
might happen tomorrow<br/>
didnt know what tho</i><br/>
<br/>
It's a moment before you get a reply back from Vee but when you do it's one simple word: <i>Fuck</i>.<br/>
<br/>
<i>you think its bad?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>They might be doing a room sweep.<br/>
Dalton likes doing them at random or for any excuse.<br/>
Likely gets hard thinking about them.</i><br/>
<br/>
For the first time in a while that gets a genuine laugh from you. <i>should we be worried?</i> you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<i>If they find the book yes.<br/>
Hiding it without getting seen will be hard though.</i><br/>
<br/>
That gives you pause. You're still wary about telling her but you realize now that things are in motion they can't really be stopped. <i>they might already know,</i> you reply.<br/>
<br/>
<i>bands record anything the wearers thought<br/>
kristen puts it on she'll know your plan</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.<br/>
Ok we'll meet at the church around 10.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>izzy has plans</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Canceled. I'll think of something in the meantime.<br/>
Remember. The church at 10.</i><br/>
<br/>
There are no more messages after that. You've still got a few hours left until ten so you'll be able to finish setting up but after that? You spend the rest of the ride back thinking up an excuse but are having trouble coming up with anything plausible by the time you arrive. You thank the driver as you exit and make sure to give him a good review as well (you don't want to screw up Izzy's own passenger rating if you're going to be her) and with a deep breath head into the theater.<br/>
<br/>
"Heya!" you exclaim. "Don's Donut Deliveries! I'm your oh so cute delivery girl here with an order for..."<br/>
<br/>
"Finally!" Alex says bounding over to you.<br/>
<br/>
However you pull the donuts back and grin at her. "Step back lady. Says here it's for Izzy Santos... whoa! That's me! And it says they're from a Ms. Alex Day?" You lean in close and pinch her on the cheek. "Thanks Alex you're so sweet! Appreciate it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" Alex exclaims as you walk by her.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh Raaae! Donuts courtesy of Alex!" you call out.<br/>
<br/>
Rae strolls up and picks through a box grabbing a powdery jelly donut for herself. "Thanks Izzy dear, you're a doll," she says before taking a bite. "My lord, they taste even better free!"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, alright!" Alex exclaims as she walks up to you. "Card?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was, like, soooo tempted to buy myself something really nice from the Shoppes. You're lucky I'm so kind," you tease as you hand the card back to her. You look around the theater and notice that some of the decorations have already started going up. "Looks like Walgreens in here."<br/>
<br/>
"Only the best for the Little Match Girl," Rae quips.<br/>
<br/>
"Got what I could earlier today," Alex states defensively. "Gotta have atmosphere though right? We're gonna be watchin' cheesy, low budget movies so we gotta have cheesy, low budget decorations to compliment it."<br/>
<br/>
It actually pains you a little bit to hear her say that. Izzy's been looking forward to another party and as such so have you. Her friends are definitely a lot of fun and you were looking forward to spending a fun night with them but that's been called off because now Vee wants to hit you up at the church... and it's there that you have your excuse.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna have to bail after we set up," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck!?" Alex exclaims in surprise. "Last minute and everything?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," you glumly reply, "but my parents texted me on the way back. Kinda got a whiff that something was going on I guess because they said they wanted me home early to make sure I was rested for mass." It seems like a weak excuse but it's something that Izzy's parents have pulled plenty of times before when they suspect that their daughter might be up to something wild so it is, in fact, a very valid and all too believable one.<br/>
<br/>
"Damn but I guess there's nothing you can do," Alex admits.<br/>
<br/>
"The benefits of non-belief," Rae chimes in. "My parents know that convincing me is beyond useless."<br/>
<br/>
You apologize again and finish helping them set up, afterwards you bid goodbye and call for another Uber. Fortunately for Izzy she's got her part-time job (twenty hours a week at Panera) to give her the income needed for Uber rides and whatever else she fancies so you're not putting her into the poor house. Not wanting to waste any time you head directly from the theater over to the church.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What in God's name are you wearing?" asks the girl incredulously as she enters the church.<br/>
<br/>
"My style," you reply sardonically.<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't talking about your clothes," the girl says. "I was talking about this... girl."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't think it's unique?" you ask. "Personally I like it."<br/>
<br/>
"You look like a schizo with ADHD," she replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, and who the hell are <i>you</i> supposed to be wearing?" you ask. The girl in front of you is a little taller with long, dark brown hair that falls in loose waves past her shoulders and to the top of well-shaped breasts. Her face is full, her eyes dark but bright, her nose is pert and she's filled out where she needs to be.<br/>
<br/>
In short she's the complete opposite of Davina Macklin and it's only because this meeting is arranged that you know this girl is Vee. But while you were expecting her you certainly weren't expecting her to appear under a mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Her name is Samantha Tait. Nice girl, something of a little ray of sunshine in Founders Hall," explains Vee, and though the voice is softer and more delicate it's retained Vee's notable sharpness.<br/>
<br/>
"Wasn't expecting you to make a mask."<br/>
<br/>
"I needed to get out without being seen," the Samanthaized Vee explains. "Grabbed a few masks and did what I could. Honestly though I wasn't targeting Samantha here but she was in her room and alone so the opportunity was too good."<br/>
<br/>
You suppose her logic is sound enough so you decide not to press her for the moment since right now you've got more urgent concerns. "Okay, well we need to do something in case that sweep... are you sure it's a sweep?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," she answers bluntly, "but I know them enough to be able to make an educated guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, well if that sweep nabs them the book and anything you've made, in addition to what Krisen might 'remember' from Abi's mask..."<br/>
<br/>
"And you didn't mention that before why?" Vee asks. Her features, though soft and friendly, still manage to bore a hole through you.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I didn't think about it," you say defensively. "Not until I put that mask of Kristen on the real Izzy and then when I got that message from Gabe..."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I get it," she holds up her hand. "What, then, do you suppose we do about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Make sure you're far out of harm's way," you answer as you begin to pace. "The whole thing is shot once they're on to you and if the whole thing is FUBAR then Shelly..." You stop and shudder at the thought. "I don't want to risk you ending up like her. Not if I want to help her."<br/>
<br/>
"I see," comes the terse interjection.<br/>
<br/>
"You said you grabbed masks right? Plural?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Vee says as she reaches into her bag and pulls out two masks. She notices you marvel at that. "I've been working. Plus I'd rather be over prepared than under prepared."<br/>
<br/>
"This one's blank," you say as you grab one. "What about the other?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's my face."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay well that gives us flexibility then," you tell her. "If we grab Rae for instance--"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"One of Izzy and Alex's friends. We grab her, you can hide out as her, we've got your golem and the Kristen golem feeding us info telling us when the coast is clear and we can finish up your plan." You're immediately struck by a second thought though. "Or we cut out the middle man. Swap you in for Alex, put her under your mask and send her back."<br/>
<br/>
"I was kind of hoping to ruin her first," Vee insists. "Though I suppose that if I did that it would destroy the point of switching with her now that I think about it. So is that it then?"<br/>
<br/>
You realize that's not it however.  There's another option for you. One that's far more dangerous but may also make Vee a lot more willing to trust you.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221111121212113113
author_id: rugal
title: Just Vee Yourself
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Well I'm not saying those are definitive options. I'm just spitballing is all but they seem like the safest things to do," you tell Vee. "Keeps us close together and far away from anyone at the school."<br/>
<br/>
"We would still need the book if you wanted to help your girlfriend," replies Vee icily.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Yeah I know. We'd have to go back into the school eventually or lure out your friends," you state. "And Shelly's not my girlfriend. She's just someone who got mixed up with me."<br/>
<br/>
"Well those aren't <i>my</i> friends either," she admits with no hesitation. "It's all of us just using one another for our own benefits."<br/>
<br/>
You're astonished by how casually she admits it out loud. "Even you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Vee lets out a small laugh at that. "Oh yes, especially me," she states. "I have nothing in common with any of them save that we go to the same school. Same as none of them have a thing in common with me or with one another." With that she laughs again and follows it with a sort of amused sigh. "I suppose that something like this was bound to happen eventually, magic grimoire or no. You and your book just happened to speed it up."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry I screwed things up for you then."<br/>
<br/>
"I just told you that it was going to happen, you idiot," Vee says as she waves off your apology. "You need to be less concerned about me and more concerned about how we're getting that book back."<br/>
<br/>
"Well that's what I was going to say," you tell her. "We need the book back and we need to keep you safe, correct? Samantha has to be back tonight right? Never said who had to be wearing her mask."<br/>
<br/>
Vee looks at you for a moment, her normally stony expression now showing one of intrigue. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" she finally says. "If you're fucked the whole thing is fucked."<br/>
<br/>
"I know but I can't think of anything else," you admit. "I still owe you and all and like I said since this is your plan you're the key to the whole thing so keeping you safe is our top priority. Besides, I really don't want to see you or anyone getting hurt or worse. That's why I'm proposing we swap masks. I'll go back as Samantha, you continue on as Izzy."<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you for a good long while. Finally, with a barely audible huff, she thrusts a mask at you. You take it and are quite shocked when you get a good look at it.<br/>
<br/>
"This is your mask!" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you that if you helped me you could be anyone you wanted correct? And that I might even let you be the new Davina Macklin?" Her face betrays no emotion other than the one she's been showing you since getting you out of your confinement. "Well today's your lucky day."<br/>
<br/>
"But..."<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," Vee cuts you off. "If you're going to do this then Davina Macklin can't be missing. So when you get back to campus put my mask on and then... it's up to you, I guess. But you have to get back first and I can't be caught sneaking in so..."<br/>
<br/>
With that she takes a seat and motions for you to do the same. She looks over at you and the neutral, disinterested expression has turned to one of complete seriousness. "For some reason I'm trusting you, Will. With this plan. With <i>myself</i>. Don't ruin things for me," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"What does it matter if you're going to be permanently jumping shit to someone else?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you and shakes her head. "Really, Will, you ask too many stupid questions," she says. You watch as she raises her hands to her face and pulls and in a second an unconscious Davina Macklin is sitting where Samantha Tait had been in clothes that practically hang off of her.<br/>
<br/>
With a sigh you follow her lead.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You exit out of the Uber near the front gate and are glad that Vee, now in Izzy's mask, was willing to call it for you. But she'd already called one on the way down herself as there was no way she was going to take her car out for a joy ride. You're left with needing a way in though you hope what Vee told you is correct. You try to stay a good distance from the gate until eventually it's out of sight and replaced with an imposing wall, at which point you move closer.<br/>
<br/>
You find what you're looking for: a tree that grows close enough to the wall to hang over. You try climbing it but have a tough go of it before plopping to the ground. You try another time and another and then you wish that you were Ophelia because she's athletic and likes the outdoors and would be up this tree in a jiffy. But you're not her so you can do nothing else but give it another try and this time you're able to make it up and grab a large branch which thankfully doesn't break. You're able to instead use it to shimmy over just enough to grasp the top of the wall and pull yourself over and then let yourself drop to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
You're by the regular parking and begin making your way across the campus as quickly as possible until you're finally right up at Founder's Hall. You look around until you find the chapel and head over. There's an unused side door that's rarely ever locked as, though it's a journey, students who want to do some sneaking out tend to make their way there and through the door. You go through and into the chapel emerging, eventually, at the first floor of Founder's Hall.<br/>
<br/>
There's not really anyone patrolling this late at night as even prefects need to sleep so quietly you slip across the hall to the stairs on the far right side and work your way up. You come to the second floor and immediately hang a right, darting past the bathrooms.<br/>
<br/>
However one room does grab your attention as you pass by it and you realize you can't just ignore it.<br/>
<br/>
You head over to the room, grab the handle and slowly turn it. It's to your surprise that it does indeed turn and even more slowly you crack open the door. Samantha Tait, the real girl, sleeps soundly in her bed but her roommate, you notice, is nowhere to be found. But that's not surprising. It's a Saturday night and Mary Occam always seems to manage to find ways to escape late into the night and not return until late. Samantha's brain tells you they've reached an understanding and so on Friday and Saturday nights she tends to leave the door unlocked if Mary's not back by lights out.<br/>
<br/>
For a second you contemplate the possibility of swapping with her later before shutting the door and heading towards the room that Vee shares with Kristen. Thankfully the Kristen golem seems to have left her door unlocked too and so you slip in, slowly close the door and lock it. It takes a few minutes afterwards but eventually laying in Vee's bed is the girl herself and, exhausted, sleep is almost instantaneous.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake up the next morning tense. Not just because of the events of last night but also because rumor is reality and a sweep is coming. Vee hid the book down in the library and her extra masks and other things inside the rarely used janitor closet on the other side of the hall. So when inspection comes you should be fine and indeed you are as it's not like Dalton and the other prefects have any reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary.<br/>
<br/>
Still though you can't shake the feeling of unease. As Vee you're now going to be under more scrutiny by her so-called friends so you can't afford to mess up even a tiny bit around them. But being her also means you're in the best place to scrutinize them, determine if they're onto you and as well maybe turn the tables on Kristen by getting her out of a Abi's mask and slipping the another golemized mask onto her instead.<br/>
<br/>
So you wonder instead if you should quickly swap out of her mask into another one. You'd had the thought of being Samantha, for instance, and people seem to like her enough that she's largely above suspicion. But there are others too who would be good. Someone like Mary Occam for instance. But if you wanted to get a new mask of someone else you have to wonder who, exactly would create plausible distance while still being able to be useful for what you need to do.</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211111212121131133
author_id: rugal
title: Picking the Right Candidate
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're unsure of what to do so you decide for now that the safe play is to just stick it out as Vee and keep your ear to the ground and your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary with the other Thalians, that small group of five that Vee herself is a part of. This attempt is immediately complicated by a knock on your room's door. You open it to find Abi standing there wearing her usual smirk of bemused condescension. There's no greeting from either of you and she instead walks in and past you while you look at the golem Kristen.<br/>
<br/>
"Give us some privacy," you sharply tell her. She seems slow to move so your eyes narrow and your glare hardens and she seems to get the message because she bolts.<br/>
<br/>
"Will isn't giving you any trouble?" asks Abi.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment a chill comes over you. Then you remember the story that Vee had given the rest of her cohort as to why Kristen Wright-Wallace was back. As she told it she'd been interrogating him and he confessed to making a mask of Kristen similar to the one he'd used to turn Abi into himself. He confessed where it was and you instead used it on him putting him to sleep and making him think that he was Kristen. It's all a load of shit of course but the group isn't deep enough in the book to know that -- Vee only knows thanks to the copy of your mind that she has -- so even when they find out it's wrong it's not as if Vee would get in trouble since she was only going by what she was told.<br/>
<br/>
"No issues at all. It's like I'm dealing with the real you," you report.<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm, well, maybe we should make a mask of you now that 'I'm' back," she states. "I could handle being you for a day while you take your turn with Abi."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want to study the Japanese bubble economy?" you ask to her confusion. "Because I'm doing a paper on it for Haynes that's due just before Thanksgiving and unless the term 'window guidance' excites you then you might have a rough go of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well whatever, you ready to switch?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Did I not just tell you I have a paper due?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's almost a month away," she counters.<br/>
<br/>
"And I have other classes too that I have to balance with this paper," you retort. "so I need to make and give myself time. Or is there some kind of problem with being Abi?"<br/>
<br/>
Abi stares at you good and hard, seemingly trying to see if you're playing some kind of game with her. Or maybe Kristen is suspicions of Vee plotting against her. "I'm being very generous, you know," you tell her with more than a hint of arrogance. "I'd just like to do things at my own pace is all. Using the mask is fun, I guess, but I still have my future to look out for as well."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not looking to change identities, like, permanently?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you?" The question seems to surprise Abi. "And if so will it be Abi? Mathilde? What if you become Dustal and a year later decide it's not what you thought? So no, Kristen, I'm not looking to make a permanent change. Temporary, sure, but not permanently." She still doesn't have much to say so you throw in an addendum. "And at the moment I'm not even looking for a temporary arrangement. I had my fun but I have stuff that needs my attention," you tell her. "We have the book and Will's dealt with. We can afford to relax."<br/>
<br/>
"You're sure," she says warily.<br/>
<br/>
"If something comes up we'll handle it," you say with a sort of cold sincerity. Even when being nice Vee is not typically warm. "For now I'll focus on what I need to focus on, you focus on doing what you want as Abi."<br/>
<br/>
Abi eyes you and holds your gaze for a moment but no matter her mask she's still Kristen at heart and eventually she wilts and tells you that she'll talk to you later before she leaves. You let out a sigh of relief once she does. You'd considered sticking it out as Vee, however you can't help but to feel paranoid about every possible interaction and that paranoid antsiness will likely make you more prone to screwing up.<br/>
<br/>
You're made even antsier when you go to collect the stuff that Vee had hidden. The materials, masks and such are retrieved with little issue. However the library is a much different matter as when you go to check where the book had been stored -- among the books on economics that nobody else would care for -- you find to your horror that it's gone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Ophelia Wilmot charges at you, an intimidating sight to be sure but you hold your ground. As she approaches you get ready to tackle but as you do she rips off a pass that flies right by you and towards Gail Lattimore -- the real Gail Lattimore -- who successfully gets around a defender and gets the ball to a fifth former whose name you can't remember who easily puts it past the goalkeeper.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," you call out as you huff over to the sidelines and grab the bottle with your sports drink, "that's good. We'll break for the day."<br/>
<br/>
"I can go another round," Ophelia grins and you can do nothing but glare at her.<br/>
<br/>
"Good practice everyone but seriously, it's over," you say while continuing to glare. "Go have lunch."<br/>
<br/>
These practices on late Sunday morning are informal and infrequent but you called one to get a better look at the team Vee captains to see if anything was off with anyone. Unfortunately, or fortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case. But then Vee barely remembers more than a few players. She may be "captain" but only by virtue of pushing Emily Dustal, the former captain and a girl she didn't get along with, off the team.<br/>
<br/>
In actuality Ophelia is who truly runs the team as she's the most serious and most athletic. Good enough that she'd likely make the teams at either of the schools in town, where she lives as a non-boarder, were she not enrolled here.<br/>
<br/>
With nothing to do you decide to head to the dining hall to grab some food, largely wanting to eat alone. However you're joined by Kate Gross, the most well-liked of the prefects, and her frequent chatting buddy Alexis Garnet-Jacobs, a girl whose wealth can rival the likes of Mathilde or Sherri. Eventually you're joined by Frances Washington, a member of the soccer team who rooms with Alexis. You don't do much talking yourself but you do a lot of listening and a lot of observing with Vee's instincts guiding you.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing about Kate or Alexis strikes you as odd. Frances's talking does because she's been reserved since transferring to the school but her opening up has been going on all week and so pre-dates anyone getting her with a book.<br/>
<br/>
You do curse your sloppiness when you overhear Hallie Lamb, the school's most notorious gossip, at the next table over talk about how Samantha Tait got it pretty sternly from Marius Hall this morning because someone had seen her slipping into the dorm after lights out, which is very unlike her.<br/>
<br/>
The part of your mind given to Vee doubly curses. Samantha was merely a crime of opportunity as she'd been aiming for Mary Occam, her roommate because for Mary coming and going late wouldn't even be given a second thought.<br/>
<br/>
Unease settling in for you once more you decide to end things early, excuse yourself, and head back to your room.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
When you're back you ignore Kristen and instead grab a towel, a robe and some slippers, then head out to the girl's bathroom where you enter one of the shower cubicles to get clean. Vee's body, unlike Izzy's or Samantha's, is thin and wiry with small breasts and little curvature on the lower half. Still the hot water feels good as it rinses off the sweat and grime and it takes a lot to not explore any further.<br/>
<br/>
No, the day's events so far have left you jittery and distracted. Too distracted to get what enjoyment you can from Vee's body. Instead all you can think about is the missing book, the possibility of being targeted or found out, and what you can do to solve this conundrum. The first thing is to use some of the material Vee's gathered to find a new hiding spot for yourself. Put some distance inbetween yourself and "Vee" while you investigate things.<br/>
<br/>
And who would make a good hiding spot? A useful one? As you towel off, put on the robe and slippers and head back to your room you mull over possibilities. Vee's original target, Mary Occam, tops the list as she's wily and charismatic. Ophelia Wilmot's athletic prowess make her well-liked and respected and she lives in town giving you an easy way to link up with Vee. Hallie Lamb is a gossip and a snoop so few would question you investigating things. Frances Washington is in good with Alexis and Kate and has an air of mystery to her. Of course there's Kate Gross herself as well.<br/>
<br/>
As you enter the room you order Kristen to get out because you want to take a nap in peace and quiet. Lucky for you that Kristen is a cowardly enough to find you intimidating and listen, even without her mask being golemized. You do try to soften the blow by telling her to come back in an hour as you flop on the bed.<br/>
<br/>
Once she's out you bolt up and lock the door behind you. You'll have to make some paste and golemize Vee's mask but you hope she'll be understanding of it. Once you're out of her mask you go back to running over the candidates in your head as you determine which one will be the right fit.</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222111112121211311331
author_id: rugal
title: Mary, Mary
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You debated good and hard over who you would pick for your new identity but as you worked on checking if you had what you needed and making sure that Vee's mask was prepared you realized that there was only one person that made sense. It takes a bit of searching but you're finally able to find who you're looking for in the game room. A small crowd has gathered around the billiards table and you squeeze in just enough to see the girl you're looking for as she sinks the eight ball into a side pocket and looks rather proud of herself.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, a deal is a deal," she says with a smirk as she looks at a dopey redheaded boy who you assume is a fourth or fifth former since you don't recognize him. "You even agreed to letting the winner name their price and while I know what <i>you</i> were likely hoping for," she taunts making sure to wink at him in the process, "I'm still not sure I know what I'm want--Oh! Actually, I believe I do!"<br/>
<br/>
"Mary..." Jocelyn Moss starts.<br/>
<br/>
"J.M., please. He's the one who got himself into this," Mary states.<br/>
<br/>
"You're the one who baited him," Jocelyn counters.<br/>
<br/>
"And he's the one who took it," Mary replies as she turns back to the redheaded boy. "Math is a sore subject for me but you're pretty good at it I would guess, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh... s-sure..." the boy states nervously.<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll just say that when I need it I'd appreciate your... help," she says and the implication of what she's saying is obvious. "Remember not to welch either, Sammy. I'm sure Dalton wouldn't be happy to learn that there was gambling happening on school grounds."<br/>
<br/>
Mary Occam is a girl whose short stature belies an absolutely commanding presence. She knows how to make herself the center of attention when she wants to be and when to slink away into the shadows. She knows how to apply the right amount of charm, say the right words and use the right tone of voice to get others wrapped around her finger. Vee in fact knows this all too well as Abi had always made it a point to make sure that extra attention was paid to her to lock her down and stifle her; stop her from being a threat to her own position.<br/>
<br/>
She knows every way to slip in and out of the school and if she's not up to it then she knows that a few sweet words (and if need be a cash bonus) directed at the security guard running the gat will be enough to get what she needs. It's no wonder, then, that she was Vee's original choice to use to slip out of the school and that she's your first choice for a new identity.<br/>
<br/>
"Mary," you say simply as you approach her.<br/>
<br/>
"Vee Macklin," she smirks. "Fancy seeing you down here not with your head buried in your books. Or your nose buried up Abi's ass."<br/>
<br/>
You immediately have to temper Vee's own dislike of the girl for Mary is one of the few who is absolutely fearless when it comes to dealing with the Thalians, Dalton Reeves or, well, anybody really. "Yes, well, some times I do like to get out and mingle," you respond. "In fact I was thinking that the two of us could a little mingling as well."<br/>
<br/>
"Really now?" Mary asks with amusement. "I can't imagine the two of <i>us</i> would have much to talk about."<br/>
<br/>
"Some ideas, propositions." You hold her eye and she doesn't seem to budge. "Things to help you get ahead," you add.<br/>
<br/>
"Really?"<br/>
<br/>
You lean in and speak barely above a whisper. "Let's say that there might be a new opening in the Thalians in the near future," you tell her. "How about we meet up in your room in ten minutes and we can discuss things further."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>n e way i got who u couldnt,</i> you text to Izzy using Mary's phone.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Occam?<br/>
<br/>
in her flesh ;)<br/>
<br/>
What about my mask?<br/>
<br/>
under my control.<br/>
<br/>
Will I would like if you'd discussed this first.<br/>
<br/>
no time. had to make a switch before anyone came snooping around you.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever. Remember the book is priority.<br/>
Just be careful.<br/>
<br/>
ha! u care!?<br/>
<br/>
Of course. You're my link to the book.<br/>
So watch yourself.<br/>
<br/>
will do</i><br/>
<br/>
The text conversation ends rather brusquely as is Vee's style. Not that you particularly care of course. Rather not that <i>Mary Occam</i> particularly cares as, to be frank, she would just as soon never cross paths with Vee Macklin if she could help it. It was only the possibility of getting some info out of her, as Mary is quite ambitious herself, that caused Mary to agree to your suggestion to meet. Otherwise the two would have little to do with one another.<br/>
<br/>
"So who were you texting?" asks Jocelyn Moss, JM as her friends affectionately call her.<br/>
<br/>
"Nobody," you reply bluntly.<br/>
<br/>
"A boy?" she follows up.<br/>
<br/>
"If I was?"<br/>
<br/>
JM can only shrug. She seems to do this, where she tries to needle at Mary every so often and poke little holes in her seemingly unflappable, confident nature but she's almost always shut down fairly quick. Mary's got too much blustery confidence to let something like that get at her. And if JM wasn't one of Mary's best friends then she might feel a little anger. But she knows that nothing truly serious is meant by it.<br/>
<br/>
"I saw a name on there," Corinne Kennedy, another of Mary's close friends, grins a big toothy smile at the both of you. "Izzy? Dunno who that is though."<br/>
<br/>
"Gabe's little sister," you admit and begin to spin a tale. "I ran into her when I went into town last week. She seemed to recognize me but I didn't know who on Earth she was supposed to be. But we did get to talking and, truth be told, I've got a bootlegger now."<br/>
<br/>
"What? No more scamming dorky dopes into getting your stuff?" asks JM.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," you grin, "I can't have just <i>one</i> source of booze and fun can I? Playing around is fun but it's boring when you've only got one playmate."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you've been collecting them," Corinne snickers. "I saw you go off with Davina yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Who went off with Davina yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
You step aside as Niamh Stirland, a non-boarder local from Saratoga Falls, pushes her way past you to get to her first period class. But she stops as she does and turns to face the three of you. "Well?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Mary did," Corinne blurts out.<br/>
<br/>
"Mary did?" Niamh repeats in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I don't know why but I saw them talking in the game room yesterday afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't about anything," you say defensively. "I needed some notes for first period that's all."<br/>
<br/>
JM can merely shake her head. "Mary, you tried scamming help from <i>Davina Macklin</i>?" she asks incredulously. "Are you an idiot?"<br/>
<br/>
Niamh eyes you suspiciously. You wouldn't say that Mary and Niamh are friends specifically but they do share a class -- World History -- together as well as an art history class on Saturdays and they do manage to, in a way, get along. Friendly acquaintances is perhaps the best term. At the very least Mary seems to have a healthy level of respect for Niamh as even someone like her can appreciate the hard work that someone like her puts in.<br/>
<br/>
But whatever she thinks she shakes off. "Well whatever, I think things might be happening with that crew anyway," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you say that?" asks JM.<br/>
<br/>
"You haven't noticed it? Even Mariah mentioned it to me on the way in," states Niamh. "Like something happened because they've all been acting a bit more on edge. A bit weird. Like something's eating at them. Hell, she tried calling in the soccer team for a Sunday practice... that I blew off of course."<br/>
<br/>
"Well it's not like it concerns us," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"But it might concern me," a voice cuts in and you turn to see the smiling face of Alyssa Erickson. "So what's up with Abi and Vee and them?"<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa is a nice girl and because of her disability people are loathe to ever really go after her. It's something she plays to her advantage however as she fancies herself a future ace reporter and as such can be fairly nosy at times. Especially when nobody wants to talk to her. Like now.<br/>
<br/>
"What's up with them?" you ask rhetorically as you and the others begin splitting up to your various classes. "Ask them yourself."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's the early evening and you've finished swimming practice -- Mary's mansion back in Connecticut is right on the water so she's had plenty of experience -- as well as grabbing something to eat and you head back to her dorm room. You give your acknowledgment to Samantha, her roommate, and head into the small closet where you'd stashed the masks in a bag(Mary has too much in her personal footlocker to fit them in with the rest of the stuff). You see the masks and are relieved the count is the same as this morning.<br/>
<br/>
But you notice something off. You check the bag and then check it again. You check underneath some clothes because you can't remember if you left it outside of the bag.<br/>
<br/>
Oh everything else is here alright but that mask of Samantha Tait? Just like the book, it's gone.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221111121212113113311
author_id: rugal
title: Teases
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Sammy," you call out as you step back into the room, "were you in the closet today?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm?" Samantha vocalizes as she looks up at you from her phone.<br/>
<br/>
"The closet, Sammy," you say tempering frustration. "Did you dig around in there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope," she replies as she turns back to her phone. "I pulled out some clothes to lounge around in but nothing else."<br/>
<br/>
"Hrm," you grunt as you move onto your own bed.<br/>
<br/>
"Something missing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you say with disappointment. "I'd been storing something special in there and now it's missing."<br/>
<br/>
"And you thought I took it?" Samantha looks at you again with a raised eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
"You're the only other person in here," you mutter. "But I guess it would be stupid to suspect you of all people."<br/>
<br/>
Which is true. Samantha is the daughter of a Representative from Colorado and you suppose that she embodies that state's laid back values as she's a nice girl who's fashionable and pretty but isn't above joining someone like Ophelia for a hike out in the Wilderness and supposedly knows her way down a slope on both skies and a snowboard. Not surprising as she spends the winter holidays at her family's vacation home in Vail, an invite which some girls -- Mary included -- are hoping to get.<br/>
<br/>
"So what was it anyway?" asks Samantha.<br/>
<br/>
"Something I had to sneak in," you reply dryly.<br/>
<br/>
Samantha snickers at that. "You could just sneak it in yourself you know," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm, but it's more fun getting someone else to do it," you smile at her. "Teasing and leading them on and watching them get flustered, you know? Surely you've done it too; gone into town and gotten one of the hicks wrapped around your finger for an afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't say that I have." She turns back to look at you again. "So is that all you do then? Tease?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean sure. I'm not some kind of slut who's going to go down on someone just to get a little booze," you state with all the self-assured confidence you can muster. "It's nothing serious after all. I'm just looking to have a little bit of fun."<br/>
<br/>
That causes Samantha to giggle and then her eyes fix themselves on you, studying you as they twinkle and her mouth twists itself into an amused smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" you ask taken a bit aback.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing," she replies in a sing-song tone of voice. "It's just that I guess that teasing does sound like you. Although I prefer being more direct myself." She continues to smirk at you. "How do you think I got Michael?" She's referring to her boyfriend, a handsome soccer player named Michael Best, and launches into a rather lurid story of how she managed to win him over. After it ends she laughs again.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh lord, Mary your face!" she says inbetween giggles. "You're like a tomato! Wait," she gasps, "don't tell me--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, I get it Sammy," you cut her off with exasperation. "I'm glad your relationship with your boyfriend is so colorful."<br/>
<br/>
This sends Samantha into another giggle fit as she claims the only thing colorful here is you. You want to say more but the reality is that you can do nothing more than toothlessly huff and pout. For one, Mary certainly likes Samantha well enough and is glad that she got stuck with someone she's actually able to get along with. At the same time, however, there's not really anything more you can say without confirming one of the things Mary likes to keep mum about.<br/>
<br/>
That for all her love of manipulative teasing and wrapping a dopey boy around her finger her own virginity is a rather large sore spot.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You decide not to fill Vee in on this business with the mask lest she begins to think that you're incompetent and that she's perhaps made a mistake in trusting you. You spend the rest of the night and evening however still worrying about the mask as well as the book. You wonder if perhaps Samantha might have taken it but much like you're conversation earlier you decide that's almost certainly not the case. Mary's own memories tell you that she's never been the type to snoop through Mary's stuff anyway.<br/>
<br/>
But that's if she's even still herself. What if whoever grabbed the mask replaced her and you'd spent the entire night with a fake? But you eventually dismiss that possibility as well. Whoever it is would need to have the book and have been able to make a golem mask -- either of themselves or doing it to Samantha's mask -- to stick onto her and whether they did or didn't you doubt they would have had the time to be able to do it presuming they took the mask after classes.<br/>
<br/>
"You look, like, totally frazzled," Corinne says as she greets you the next morning as you both wait for JM outside one of the buildings that houses classrooms. "Something up?"<br/>
<br/>
You barely look at her and instead bite your lip as you stare straight ahead. "It's nothing, just frustrating is all," you answer. "Something went missing from my room yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh? And what would that be?" comes Alyssa's voice as you hear soft tapping of her crutch.<br/>
<br/>
"None of your concern," you reply sharply.<br/>
<br/>
"But it is!" she chirps as she makes it up to you. "After all as this school's premiere journalist it's my job to stick my nose where it doesn't belong if I want to ferret out and report the truth."<br/>
<br/>
"Alyssa, I said--"<br/>
<br/>
But your frustrated rebuttal is cut off by Niamh. "It's the booze isn't?" she says with amusement as she zips past you.<br/>
<br/>
"Stirland!" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone pinch your Ciroc?" asks Roxanne Hurley who similarly shoots by you before you can respond. <br/>
<br/>
Alyssa titters at that. "So that's it? You've been sneaking alcohol onto school grounds and hiding it in your room?" she asks with amusement.<br/>
<br/>
"No!" you shoot back but your follow up betrays you. "What does it matter to you anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa regards you with amusement before she laughs and shakes her head. "I guess it doesn't. Not like it makes you unique," she states. "You trying get in with the Drinklings?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft!" you roll your eyes. "Get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"Your secret's safe with me," Alyssa responds while she continues to grin.<br/>
<br/>
It's at that point that you spot JM coming among other students and raise your hand and call out to her. You're relieved once she comes over and quickly hook your arm around her's before she can barely get her greeting out. "Well I have to get to class," you say with mock disappointment to Alyssa as you walk off. "We'll talk later."<br/>
<br/>
Things continue as normal from that point forward. You again notice nobody missing from your classes and nobody who seems to be acting out of sorts. But you realize that may be a poor way to try and find someone because if they've got everything the mind band does then it'd be next to impossible to tell the real from the fake anyway. It's only after second period as you're taking your break that the first shoe drops in the form of, once more, Alyssa who approaches you as you check your phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Mary," she says in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper, as she leans in, "meet me in the rec room at lunch. I think I came across something you're going to want."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
When lunch does come around you text JM and Corinne and tell them to go ahead without you and that you'll catch up to them in a bit though you say no more beyond that. Instead you decide to follow up on Alyssa's cryptic message to you during break and head over to the rec room -- not as busy during lunch as it would be in the evening or on the weekend -- where you scan and find Alyssa sitting in one of the chairs, her crutch leaned up against it.<br/>
<br/>
"What is it?" you say impatiently as you march over to her.<br/>
<br/>
She's got her bag with her and reaches in. "Like I said, I've got something you want. Something you were talking about earlier," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"Alyssa, you dimwit, you can't pull that booze out here!" you exclaim in a panic.<br/>
<br/>
"Not booze. Something else. Someone carelessly left it in the library yesterday and I happened to come across it," she states. "Took me most of first period for me to figure out you were talking in code though."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you even talking about?" you ask but you're taken aback when she pulls the object out of the bag and shoves it in your hands. It's a mask and specifically it's the mask of Samantha. However you can't give away that this is anything special so you do your best to keep your composure. "What's this? Did you snatch it from the theater?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, someone left it in the library and I realized, eventually, that this is probably what you were talking about."<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think that?" you ask with as much annoyance as you can muster. "It's just a dumb theater mask."<br/>
<br/>
"A dumb theater mask that has your roommate's name etched into it," she replies.<br/>
<br/>
You decide to play along, take a look at the mask and gasp in surprise when you see Samantha's name. "W-what's this? Is this Sammy's?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me," Alyssa retorts. "Because out of curiosity I put it on last night and forgot to take it off so I woke up in it looking like... like her. And I could think like her too. Like there were memories stored in that mask and I had it all, it was amazing! Then you were looking for something this morning and this mask of your roommate shows up and then all the memories?"<br/>
<br/>
You continue trying your best to keep your poker face but it's becoming increasingly hard.<br/>
<br/>
"I know it belongs to you because the circumstantial evidence points to you. That and I have a good idea as to who you really are," Alyssa says as she leans forward; her face is a smirk and one that looks nothing at all like the soft, inquisitive Alyssa that Mary knows, "Will Prescott."</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222111112121211311332
author_id: rugal
title: The Townie
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You debated good and hard over who you would pick for your new identity but as you worked on checking if you had what you needed and making sure that Vee's mask was prepared you realized that there was only one person that made sense. You're able to catch up to your prey just outside of Founders Hall.<br/>
<br/>
"Ophelia," you call out as you jog up to her. Her attention turns to you and she's wearing a look of mild surprise. "You're leaving?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah," she answers warily. "I just came up here today because you called that practice. I do have things I've gotta do back in town you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, well," you start. Davina Macklin is not really one for contrition but you'll have to show a tiny bit of it if you want to enact your plan. "Look, would you be willing to walk and talk a little bit? Maybe come up to my room?" You watch her raise an eyebrow at that. "Don't give that look Wilmot," you snap. "I just want to talk to you about soccer. You know, pick your brain about things I can do to improve?"<br/>
<br/>
Ophelia laughs a bit at that. "I can't say I've ever seen you care about it before," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"That's true, however athletics are the one field I'm lacking in," you admit, "and I suppose that being well rounded will look good on a college application."<br/>
<br/>
She hesitates for a moment before agreeing to spare a few minutes to talk to you and give you advice though she insists no more than thirty. You assure her that'll be plenty of time and begin walking back into Founders Hall. As you do Ophelia begins to tell you about the importance of being able to read and predict players, of working on your passing and of being able to draw the opponent out of position. You listen with faux-rapt attention -- neither you nor Vee couldn't care less about any of this -- as you reach your room.<br/>
<br/>
"Wait a second," you interrupt as you crack open the door. It's to your relief that you're not going to have to kick Kristen out once again. You motion for Ophelia to come in making sure to enter after her and to lock the door behind you.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, the reality is though that it's not like this school is ever going to be a power on the pitch," she admits as she takes a seat onto your bed. "I mean Jenny Taylor will run circles around us, Hannah Westrick will probably run right through you and good luck getting a ball past Tara Weston."<br/>
<br/>
"Those are players from the schools in town?" you ask with feigned interest as you dig around in the closet. "You know them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Only a little bit. I played with some of them back in middle school, youth leagues, things like that," Ophelia says. "They were good when I played and I'd guess they're better now."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh," you reply absentmindedly as you find what you're looking for.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," she says with a hint of annoyance, "you asked me up here so can you at least pretend to be interested?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I was looking for something," you say. "A gift."<br/>
<br/>
"A gift?" she asks. "I mean it's just advice I don't think I really need--"<br/>
<br/>
"Not for you," you tell her as you quickly dart forward and smash a mask onto her face. "No, it's a gift for me," you say. You can't help but to smirk just a little bit as you do.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The face that stares back at you from  the mirror of the girl's bathroom is not the prettiest face you'e ever seen but it's not altogether terrible either. The jawline is a little strong, the nose a little bulbous and without makeup (Ophelia isn't one to pile it on) there's an almost boyish quality to it. Yet you like the hazel eyes that stare back at you with a sort of quiet friendliness and the way the sandy hair -- thick with loose curls and cut into a bob -- has an almost perpetually windswept look to it.<br/>
<br/>
It's the face of someone more at home in a pair of jeans than a skirt. Who'd rather be in a pair of khaki shorts and boots hiking through the Suffolk Wilderness to experience the outdoors than to merely learn about it in a lesson. It's a body whose lean musculature begs to be running around on the pitch booting a soccer ball, not sitting in a stuffy classroom in a snobby school.<br/>
<br/>
It's a mind that's glad to be leaving.<br/>
<br/>
It's not that Ophelia Wilmot hates this school per se. But she finds that the atmosphere, so old and venerable and elite, can be stifling and at times she's wished she could just grab a kayak and paddle down the lazy Mohegan back to Saratoga Falls. Back to home. It's not that Ophelia is mocked or bullied here -- she's found a friendship with former soccer player Emily Dustal and some of her group for instance -- but that still doesn't stop the feelings that she doesn't belong.<br/>
<br/>
It's not hard to see why either. Sent here with the sons and daughters of producers, bankers and American aristocrats it's natural that a girl who's "merely" the daughter of a man who owns a local Dairy Queen can hardly compare. There are even some, whether mockingly or not, who've taken to using the nickname DQ when talking to or about her, something that she's had to learn to let slide. After all it's not her money or her pedigree that got her a spot here but her legs; her ability to kick a soccer ball. The idea that, with soccer being such a growing sport and the increasing importance of athletics for schools, someone like her might help to whip their team into shape.<br/>
<br/>
Truth be told if Ophelia had her way she would've been perfectly fine playing around the girls she played soccer with prior to high school (a stray thought tells you that it's a shame that Stephanie Wyatt apparently stopped playing) but her dad wanted the connections and the prestige and the hope that he was setting his daughter up for something better and it's not as if she could disappoint him and turn him down.<br/>
<br/>
So the both of you -- yourself and Ophelia -- are glad to be taking off for the day. Ophelia because she can't wait to be out of this uniform and into something more comfortable (<i>Ha, what if I asked for a boy's uniform? Anything to get out of this skirt,</i> says a voice at the back of your head) and you because, well, now that you're able to more freely come and go you've got plans.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You know you've barely touched your meal," you say as you guide noodles and beef into your mouth. "It's really good. One of my favorite places."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Your</i> favorites?" Izzy asks as she picks at her own bowl of pho with chopsticks.<br/>
<br/>
"Ophelia's favorites," you correct yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Mhm," she replies absentmindedly. "Look I appreciate you bringing me here but we have more important things to discuss don't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not mad about your mask are you?" you ask as you lay your own chopsticks down. "I didn't really have a lot of options."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>do</i> wish you would've consulted with me on that first," replies Izzy before sighing. "But no, that's not it. I'm at a complete loss as to who could've taken the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Well the library isn't the most private place. Even if you're stuffing it in with a bunch of old economics books."<br/>
<br/>
She grunts at that. "You didn't notice anything else missing?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"All your stuff was in the janitor's closet," you answer, "so nothing else was gone from what I can tell. Seems like it was only the book that got pinched."<br/>
<br/>
"I see," she states as her face goes deep into thought.<br/>
<br/>
"You think Kristen or one of them grabbed it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't be discounted," she answers. "But if they had the memories from the mask and the book then you might not even be here to talk to me."<br/>
<br/>
You lean back in frustration. "So what, that narrows it down to pretty much everyone else?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Practically," comes the simple answer. "Of course we can't ignore that they may possibly be playing a long game to try and lure me out as well. Draw me in to a false sense of security."<br/>
<br/>
"Well if they tried to grab you they'd be in for a surprise," you laugh. "Ah, but I guess once they did that the jig would be up. You might have to move again."<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't. Not until this is done," she declares. "You've done fine so far. Loathe as I am to admit it I have some faith in you to keep me safe."<br/>
<br/>
"High praise," you roll your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course it is. Don't think I don't..." She pauses and shifts uncomfortably. "Don't think I don't appreciate what you're doing," she says after recomposing herself."<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't it a step down going from posh and elite to where you are now?"<br/>
<br/>
"In a way, sure," Izzy replies. "But I can't say I altogether hate it either. Or maybe having to stay in character is having an effect on me. We need to lay low so I can't welll go and ruin this girl's friendships even if I may personally dislike her friend."<br/>
<br/>
"Even so I'll try and check in once a day with you. Or as often as I can at any rate," you tell her. "It'll be easier like this after all. I'll make sure to keep an eye on your so-called friends too."<br/>
<br/>
"I understand but I'd recommend you pay more attention to figuring out who has the book," she tells you. "Even if it's not them, there are still plenty of others I would <i>not</i> want to see with it. We need it back, safe and secure, before anything else."</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221111121213
author_id: seuzz
title: Gorgons and Golems
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>(with an assist by Masktrix)<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know where Shelly is," you tell Vee. You are suddenly very hot, and your forehead starts to burn.<br/>
<br/>
"Does your friend Ian know?" she asks. “He sent you that warning.”<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, ask Ian," you retort. The world begins to spin.<br/>
<br/>
"We were planning to. Who is he?" <br/>
<br/>
You grunt. What's the point in not talking? She'll learn it all from you soon enough. "Friend of Shelly's. Freshman kid, farm boy."<br/>
<br/>
"So how come he knows where Shelly is, and you don't?"<br/>
<br/>
Your mind flashes back to the church basement. Vee kicking Shelly's torso while you played hide and seek with her and Abi.<br/>
<br/>
"Hide and seek?" Vee says.<br/>
<br/>
Did you say it out loud? "Yeah," you sigh, "playing hide and seek with you and Abi. At St. Xavier's."<br/>
<br/>
"Hide and seek? With Abi and me?" Her tone is sharp. "How was that supposed to work?"<br/>
<br/>
You jerk your head up. Vee has left her chair and is looming over you. When you don't reply, she says, "You were pretending to be Abi, Will. Was Shelly going to pretend to be me?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart pounds once, very hard. "I don't know," you improvise. Sweat pops out all over your body.<br/>
<br/>
"Will. You say you were playing hide and seek at the school. You were hiding in Abi's mask. Where was Shelly hiding?"<br/>
<br/>
You stare—then burst out giggling. <i>Hide and seek. With masks.</i> Maybe it's the fever talking, but that sounds like a fun game. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't know where Shelly is," you grin back. "I'm supposed to find her. That's the game. Smoke out the imposter." Again, you giggle, but it turns into a cough. "Maybe she's you. You're not Shelly, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"And what if I was?"<br/>
<br/>
"Then you'd win. You got me, Shelly. Totally bluffed me. Come on, let me go. You won."<br/>
<br/>
In the moonlight, through the haze that chokes your brain, her features seem to swim. Is her hair raven black, or burnt orange? Is her face lean and sharp, or round and happy?<br/>
<br/>
Vee stares. "Was Ian playing too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, he was the referee." <i>This is fun,</i> you think, <i>making up shit.</i><br/>
<br/>
"He tried warning you. How did he know we were on to you?" You'd shrug, but you're numb from the neck down. <br/>
<br/>
"Shelly told him, didn't she?" Vee hisses, answering her own question. "She must be right under our noses!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you sigh. "Because you're Shelly." Your eyes fall shut, and you snicker. "Call Ian, tell him to come out and get us. Tell him to bring the fake me and you, too."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. "Sure thing, Will.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks. And Shelly? Do you forgive me?”<br/>
<br/>
"Of course, Will. You helped me."<br/>
<br/>
You smile to yourself. It feels good to be forgiven. <br/>
<br/>
<i>But forgiven for what?</i> you wonder. <i>Oh, that’s right. Forgiven for turning Shelly into a Gorgon. No, not a Gorgon. A Gorgon turns people into stone. No, I’m the Gorgon, I turned Shelly into stone. Shelly is something else beginning with a G…</i><br/>
<br/>
In the silence, in the dark, you think you hear distant music—a thrumming beat and some shouting. The darkness in your head reels and revolves, and you snap your head up with a jerk. <i>What was that sound, like the clink of metal?</i> Vee's chair is empty.<br/>
<br/>
Your head sinks forward again, and the darkness enfolds you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Look out! It's a big dog and it's going to jump at you!</i><br/>
<br/>
It does, knocking you from a dark, warm place into a dark, cold, wet one. It's like having a pallet of bricks dropped onto your lap.<br/>
<br/>
You thrash, and voices shout: "I've got—!" "Get—!" "Shut up!" You kick and twist, but you're wrapped in something like a cocoon. Your scalp is aflame with what feels like a carpet of biting, writhing ants.<br/>
<br/>
The shouting stops, and the darkness is filled with heavy breathing. Lots of it. A shadow looms over you, and a face is pressed close to yours. "Will?" a voice squeaks.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you get your knee out of my back?" another voice groans from the floor nearby.<br/>
<br/>
But you ignore it to concentrate on the face that is staring into yours. You must be hallucinating, feverish.<br/>
<br/>
It's Shelly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>She's back from the dead.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You're in so much trouble, you fucking asshole!"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't cuss at him!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll cuss at whoever I goddamn please! Him especially! After we get him out of here, I'm—!"<br/>
<br/>
The speaker trips. And because he is supporting you as you run through the dark, you stumble too.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, easy there," yelps the guy who is supporting you on the other side. "Keep your feet under you, boss."<br/>
<br/>
"He's doing the best he can!" Shelly shouts.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shelly. She came through. Wherever she was hiding, she came through for me.</i><br/>
<br/>
And she brought two friends. One of them you recognize as your own twin. The other, shorter and stronger, looks very familiar, but the fire raging in your brain confuses you, so that you can't place him.<br/>
<br/>
Together, they untied you and somehow pushed you up a ladder and out into the cold, dark open air. Now you are scampering as best you can on dead feet and numb legs across the darkened campus of the St. Francis Xavier School.<br/>
<br/>
The race ends at a white truck; not until your twin drops the gate do you recognize it as your own. Two of them join you in the back; the other runs around to the cab. The truck starts with a growl and a lurch.<br/>
<br/>
A blanket is thrown over you, and you try to throw it off, for you are burning up. Your two companions shout at each other over the rush of the wind as the truck hurtles along, but you can't make out the words. Your head lolls, and you dip in and out of darkness. You're shaken awake a few times, but each time you slip back into a vortex of swirling darkness, smudgy faces, and writhing limbs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Then a liquid fire is pouring itself down your throat. You cough, sputter, and shoot upward into wakefulness. "Easy there," someone says. "Gross!" shouts another. "He spit all over me!"<br/>
<br/>
It's still dark, but as you hack and cough the fire from your gullet, you are at least able to make out some little bit of where you are.<br/>
<br/>
You are still in the bed of your truck, wrapped in a blanket. Four faces peer closely at you. Whatever they made you swallow, at least it cleared most of the feverish fumes from your head.<br/>
<br/>
The anxious expressions belong to Shelly and to your twin. The disgusted one is Ian Cowdray, Shelly's freshman friend. The fourth face— <br/>
<br/>
Well, you've seen him at school, but his name escapes you. It's a friendly face, at least: handsome, masculine, with tufts of hair popping out from under a trucker cap.<br/>
<br/>
"Do we need to take him to a hospital?" Shelly says.<br/>
<br/>
Trucker Hat shoves his palm against your forehead. "He's hot. But why can't you take him home?"<br/>
<br/>
"His, uh, parents would kill him," your twin says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd like to kill him," Ian mutters. Shelly hushes him.<br/>
<br/>
Trucker Hat shrugs. "Someone needs to take him home. Get him out of the cold, at least. Hasn't he got any other friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"He can go home with me," Shelly declares. "We've got a place he can stay."<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna tell your mom?" Trucker Hat sounds vastly amused.<br/>
<br/>
"I can take care of him."<br/>
<br/>
Trucker Hat snorts. "Then I don't know why you brought him out here. Shee-ut. He ain't a cow."<br/>
<br/>
"We just needed advice."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfuh. Who'd you say did this to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Some guys out at St. Xavier's. Will— Uh—" Shelly starts to stammer. "He was pranking them, so they were getting even, and they took it too far."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well." Trucker Hat adjusts his cap. "Get him out of the night air, that's what I say." With graceful ease lofts himself over the side of the truck to the ground. "And next time, man, watch where you go trick-or-treating." With a chuckle, he stumps off over a gravel bed.<br/>
<br/>
"Who was that?" you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"A friend. Are you feeling okay, Will?" Shelly asks. She feels your forehead. "Gosh, you're burning up."<br/>
<br/>
"What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"We rescued you," your twin says.<br/>
<br/>
"How'd you find me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, we're not out of this yet, okay?" Ian interrupts. "That girl and her friends are gonna come looking for us. And maybe they can't do anything to you guys, but—" He trails off in a half-choke.<br/>
<br/>
"What? Happened?" you hiss. Your head is starting to pound, and you are hot all over, and the fever feels like it's starting to reassert itself. You want answers while you can still understand them.<br/>
<br/>
There's an anxious silence. Then Shelly, with an assist from the other two, fills you in.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The background details are confusing—Shelly talks too quickly to follow—but the gist is that your twin got a phone call from an inebriated-sounding Abi Steiner, ordering him to collect Shelly, then to go around and get her friend Ian Cowdray and bring him out to St. Xavier's. They complied ("We've been pretending to be her house elves," Shelly giggles) and were met a girl who introduced herself as Abi's friend. She led them behind some kind of amphitheater, then down into a storm drain where they found you. Your three rescuers jumped the girl and hightailed it away with you.<br/>
<br/>
"They're going to come looking for you, boss," your twin warns you. "You need to hide."<br/>
<br/>
Sure. But where?<br/>
<br/>
A possible answer comes when Shelly pulls out a bluish object: a blank mask.<br/>
<br/>
"That girl dropped it back there," she says. "I scooped it up. Did I do a good job, boss?"</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211111212131
author_id: masktrixie
title: Dragons Vs Wildcats
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Assist by Seuzz<br/>
<br/>
“You did good,” you say, as the world closes in around you, a clammy, febrile agony. The icy cold of the truck bed is eating through your slacks and settling into your bones. “But I need to be someone else.”<br/>
<br/>
“We all need that,” Ian says. “They’re gonna come. I told Shelly! I told her what would happen if you messed with this stuff!” He looks at you with resigned hatred.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry, Ian.” Shelly leans across you to give him a stiff, arms-only hug; you wonder if she's finally gotten over her aversion to gross boys. “It was just everything I ever wanted. Like, ever.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re not even her." Ian pushes Shelly away. “And none of this'd happened if I hadn't given that book to her, she would never have –”<br/>
<i>It’s not really Shelly,</i> you finally realize. <i>It’s just the Shelly golem. She’s still dead.</i><br/>
<br/>
He cuts himself off, then rounds on you.<br/>
<br/>
“You think you had a shit day?" he yells. "This afternoon, Shelly asks me to hang out with her and her friend! Like an idiot, I say yes, and then—" He breaks off to glare at you.<br/>
<br/>
"We told him everything, boss," Shelly says quietly. "I even showed him how to—" She touches her face. "I couldn't get it off. But I told him how to do it."<br/>
<br/>
If you weren't feeling so shitty, you might understand better how horrible it was for Ian to pull Shelly's face off and find a lumpy stone <i>thing</i> underneath. As is, you can only mutter an apology before you feel your head sagging again. "Need a mask," you mutter before passing out again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center"><br/>
***</div><br/>
<br/>
<i>Che, you need to get up and get dressed before you’re late! Come on, vamanos.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your head snaps up and you suck in a deep breath of icy air. For the briefest moment you are touched with confusion. But with one glance around to place yourself—you're in the back of your truck with a black, starless sky above—the horrible events of the last twenty-four hours come flooding back.<br/>
<br/>
But your spirits are high. Very high. You feel flushed with energy, strong and vital, and you blink and smile as Will Prescott thrusts a bundle of clothes at you. "Better, boss?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You feel completely human again. If only it wasn't so, so cold and dark. It must be after midnight by now.<br/>
<br/>
"Much better," you tell your replacement as you flap open Coach Acuna's things. "Thank you, all of you. Especially— Especially you, Ian," you trill as his head pops out from around the side of the truck cab. He only glowers back. "I know you didn’t sign up for this, and every time I try and get you out, you seem to get dragged back in.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not doing this for you,” he retorts. “I'm only doing it because they want to do it to me, too. You know that, right? When this is all over, Prescott, we won’t even be close to square.”<br/>
<br/>
You nod as you pull on your things. Maybe you should be more sympathetic. But Carmen Acuna’s mind is organized, all business.<br/>
<br/>
"Fair enough," you reply, and note with approval that Shelly, who is perched in the truck bed with you, sits up with a bright, alert expression. "Right now, we need a stock take. Opponent’s strengths and weaknesses.” Your brain seems to convert the whole mess into a sports match.<br/>
<br/>
<i><b>The Westside Dragons</b><br/>
Members: Ian Cowdray; ‘Shelly Nolan’ (golem); Will Prescott (Captain); ‘Will Prescott’ (golemized Abigail Steiner).<br/>
Advantages: Experience with the book, one blank mask, Acuna mask, Ruth mask. Unknown location.<br/>
Disadvantages: Everything else.<br/>
<br/>
Versus<br/>
<br/>
<b>The St Francis Xavier Wildcats</b><br/>
Members: Todd Baldwin; Chris Fiore; Davina Macklin (Captain); ‘Abigail Steiner’ (Kristen Wright-Wallace).<br/>
Advantages: The Libra, wealth and privilege, ability to become anyone, Will mask, Shelly mask, Abi mask.<br/>
Disadvantages: Learning the spells, must take them hours to make a new mask, Kristen has no way to substitute herself, likely to cause rift if Todd and Chris realize Abi is not who she claims to be.</i><br/>
<br/>
But are the three kids in front of you your only teammates? You ask about the boy they took you to see.<br/>
<br/>
"My friend Tyler," Ian says, sounding grumpy. ("Purvis," Shelly adds.) "You were in shit shape, so we took you out see him, see if he knew how to fix you up. He helped my pop with rotor repairs on the combine, so I knew he was solid."<br/>
<br/>
"He's in the ag program," Shelly says. "Knows livestock. So since we couldn't take you to a doctor—"<br/>
<br/>
"You took me to a vet," you finish for her. "Brilliant." But it was a smart move. "Does he know about this stuff? With the masks and—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shit, no," Ian says. "And you're not gonna tell him, neither!"<br/>
<br/>
"So how did you explain two people who looked like Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"We told him you were my cousin," your twin says. He tugs your sleeve and gives you a warning look.<br/>
<br/>
You blow out your cheeks. Too bad they didn't tell Tyler about all this. You could really use another ally.<br/>
<br/>
But for now what you <i>really</i> need is a place to shelter.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's go out to the basement," you announce. "You can drop me off there, and we can get together in the morning. Tomorrow's Saturday, isn't it?" The version of Coach Acuna you're pretending to be is sadly out of date.<br/>
<br/>
"You can drop me off on the way home," Ian says. "I'll be spending the night hiding under the covers."<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
After leaving Ian off, Will and Shelly fill you in again on everything you were too sick to understand the first time.<br/>
<br/>
"They thought we had to obey them," Will explains as the navigates the rattling truck along the dark, deserted streets of Saratoga Falls. "The girl you were pretending to be, boss? They made, like, another copy of her, and one of 'em put her mask on, and she was all, like, 'You have to do what I say right? Because it's me under the mask?' Well, I knew that was all wrong—"<br/>
<br/>
He pauses to give you a sidelong look.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't ask me how it works, but it's like I can <i>feel</i> when it's you." He looks past you at Shelly, who is seated on your right. "You know what I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," she says. "Back at St. Xavier's? I just had to look at you, Will, to know it was you." She gives you a squeeze.<br/>
<br/>
"What happened down there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we got a call from the girl who was pretending to be you pretending to be the other girl," Will says, "and she told us to bring Ian out. We were pretty sure something'd gone wrong because we never heard from you all day, after we sent you those warnings. So today after school we told Ian more or less what was going on, because we thought maybe he could help—"<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't tell his cousin about any of this, did he?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I don't think so." Will frowns. "But we told Ian and, uh, Shelly showed him—" Again he glances past you at Shelly. "So he wasn't too freaked out when we asked him to come out with us tonight." He pauses. "At least, not till we got to out to that school and that girl showed up."<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't freak out," Shelly says.<br/>
<br/>
"He did so. You would too."<br/>
<br/>
"He had <i>us</i> with him."<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't know we were on his side!"<br/>
<br/>
"What happened?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, this girl showed up, the one who was with Abi yesterday? And she told us to grab him. So we had to pretend to—"<br/>
<br/>
"And I whispered to him it was only pretend," Shelly interrupts.<br/>
<br/>
"He still thought you were lying. But we had to hustle him over to that amphitheater and throw him down into that hole. And all the time that girl was telling him that if he didn't help out he was going to disappear, and no one would miss him because someone else was going to <i>be</i> him. Yeah, he was freaked out!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Okay,</i> you think. <i>Now I know why Ian is so worried about people coming for him.</i><br/>
<br/>
"But it all worked out," Shelly says. "As soon as we saw you, boss, we tackled <i>her</i> and then the three of us got you out. So Ian knows it's all okay."<br/>
<br/>
Except it isn't. Not by a long shot.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
They drop you off at the church with promises to be back bright and early in the morning. Maybe things will look better in the daylight.<br/>
<br/>
You still think they'd look better if you had some ally other than your two golems and Ian Cowdray.<br/>
<br/>
For the briefest moment, you wonder about Trucker Hat – Tyler Purvis. Ian was certain he was a solid guy, and you vaguely remember him from middle school. But are you prepared to bring someone else into this mess?<br/>
<br/>
But then it comes to you in a flash, a possible ally you hadn’t considered before. Under the mask that mimics your face is the real Abigail Steiner. Sure, she’s a duplicitous bitch you can’t trust for a second, but… right now, the enemy of your enemy is your friend – and you doubt she’s going to be happy to learn Kristen has stolen her life. You could risk removing the Will mask and restoring her, briefing her and hoping that she’ll tip the balance in your favor: she knows her friends and all their secrets, and Vee already told you exactly what she’d want from the book – the life of Mathilde Ambard.<br/>
<br/>
But can you really trust someone like her, and is it a price you’re willing to pay? Alternatively, there’s one ally Vee mentioned that you’re not sure if you’re willing to risk. In the basement, staring at you only a few metres away, is the real, petrified Michelle Nolan. If you put a mask on her, you don’t know if you can ever bring her back to the way she was before. But, right now, you need every ally you can get.</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222111112121312
author_id: masktrixie
title: The Girl in the Golem Mask
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“You sure about this, boss?” The Will golem looks at you nervously. It’s early morning, and you’ve spent most of the night getting as much sleep as you can in the form of Carmen Acuna. You’re terrified what will happen when you slip back into your actual self, complete with fever, weakened legs and general delirium. For now, you’re going to stay as Carmen, or your likely to just collapse.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sure,” you confirm. You feel like you’re making a pawn sacrifice, giving up the one piece you can play in the hope it might get you everything. But hasn’t this been a high-stakes game from the start? Whenever you’ve tried to play safe, it’s backfired in your face. And, if you’re going to beat Vee, you need to try something nobody would expect.<br/>
<br/>
Walking over to your own double, you place a hand on his shoulders. “Lie on the floor,” you command. The Will golem shrugs, and gets down. You crouch next to him, set the new mask down, and, with words that are all too familiar now, pull its face off. Then, standing with Shelly, you wait for the unconscious Abigail Steiner to wake up. <br/>
<br/>
“This is going to be like negotiating with Chelsea Cooper,” you inform the golem. Shelly looks at you with concern.<br/>
<br/>
“No freakin’ way,” she says. “I mean, like I’ve never spoken to her, I’m not insane! But I heard from Gabby Hartley that Mark Millan got his face pounded in by the basketball team for telling Daniel Belk that he thought she had an annoying voice, like, not even anything major, just a bit nasally, but somehow it got back to her, probably via…”<br/>
<br/>
You tune the golem out. There’s something comforting about Shelly babbling away, even if the real one is a stone corpse in the corner. And so you just let her talk, about nothing, about stupid rumors of a cheerleader who feels a lifetime ago, until the girl on the floor begins to stir. <br/>
<br/>
“…AND there was the time Helen, that’s Helen Kim, booked to use the rehearsal room but― Oh, hey! She’s waking up, Boss.”<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and step forward. “Miss Steiner,” you say quietly. Abi murmurs, then gradually her eyes open. Her brow furrows. Her head twists as she takes in her surroundings. <br/>
<br/>
“What…”<br/>
<br/>
“Easy,” you say, using all of Carmen’s authority in your voice. “You’re all right. You’re safe. But you need to stay calm. There’s a situation unfolding that…”<br/>
<br/>
“Where am I?” her voice is filled with the same innocence she had when you last saw her. “Is this the country club? Why am I? Who are you? I was supposed to be playing squash.” She looks at her clothes, pawing at them as if they’re an affront. Your shirt falls loose around Abi’s lean frame.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s what we need to talk about,” you say. “My name’s Will, this is Shelly. And it’s not Tuesday. It’s Saturday morning. About 10am, if it matters. You’ve been… asleep since then.”<br/>
<br/>
“What? I’m sorry, m’am, I don’t—” Quiet. Scared. A victim.<br/>
<br/>
“This is a lot to take in,” you say. “But on Tuesday someone stole your identity. And, ah—” you really should have thought more about what you were going to say. It sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth.<br/>
<br/>
“Magic,” Shelly says, “is freakin’ real.”<br/>
<br/>
Very slowly, Abi gets up to her feet and looks at you both. Then she does the only sensible thing and bolts for the door. You’re easily able to shuffle into her way. “Whoa! Whoa, you can’t leave! It’s dangerous!”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean dangerous!” She’s practically squirming, and you realize she must assume she’s been kidnapped. Why else would you wake up with strangers in a basement?<br/>
<br/>
“Relax! We’re trying to help you!”<br/>
<br/>
“Then! Let! Me! Go!”<br/>
<br/>
“Not! Until! You! Listen!”<br/>
<br/>
Abi pushes back from you, and steps back, warily. Her eyes plead. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening, just let me go.”<br/>
<br/>
“I will. We will. But first, you need to listen. Kristen has stolen your identity. She’s… turned herself into you. And she wants you dead.”<br/>
<br/>
Abi doesn’t say anything. And so you decide to demonstrate magic in the easiest way you know how. “Look,” you say. “I know it sounds impossible, but I’ll show you. Just calm down and watch.” You beckon the golem over, and slip your hands to its face, tugging the mask off as you mutter the magic words. <br/>
<br/>
Abi doesn’t say anything as she watches the teenage girl vanish, replaced by a golem of stone. She simply looks at you, then down at the golem. Her long, chestnut hair shields her face and you can barely see her emotions. It’s impossible to get a read on what she’s thinking, but at least she doesn’t run for the door again.<br/>
<br/>
“You see what I mean?” you ask, quietly. “We really need to talk.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to kill that porcine truffle hunter. No. Better. I’m going to turn her into my slave. I’m going to make her my personal property.” Abi says, voice low and filled with menace, shaking as you reveal the full extent of what’s gone on. “I’m just surprised she had the guts to try something like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” you agree. “I underestimated them both.” Your attempt at common understanding does not go well.<br/>
<br/>
“And you? Sincerely: <i>fuck you</i>, you sick fuck. What kind of person goes around knocking people out and stealing their bodies? Creeps like you belong on a register. If you ever – ever – try something like that again, I will rip whatever stupid face you’re wearing off and you will <i>wish</i> you were trapped as that fat bitch Kristen for the rest of your days.”<br/>
<br/>
You look away. What else is there to do? Abi snorts in contempt. <br/>
<br/>
“Stop being so fucking pathetic,” she snaps. “You got yourself into this mess. Now you’re going to have to live with the consequences and clean it up.”<br/>
<br/>
You still can’t look at her. “I need your help,” you say quietly. “I know I’ve messed up. I’m trying to fix it. But I need your help.”<br/>
<br/>
You hear footsteps, slowly advancing across the room. You look up. Abigail feels like she towers over you – or, at least, towers over Carmen – even though there’s only a matter of a few inches. The shadows in the room seem to lengthen as dawn continues to break. Behind her, you can see the first shafts of light hit Shelly. <i>So many mistakes.</i> You look up, meeting Abi’s gaze. You’re unable to shake yourself away from the deep, smoldering rage in her narrowed eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Then what?” she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You blink. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
“What happens after you fix it,” she says. “What happens when everything returns to normal? You expect me to forget about this, like nothing happened? You think Vee’s just going to back up her bags and leave? A few years back, someone drew a graffiti scribble of her on a wall. Normally shit like that is fucking omerta among students – you don’t rat. Vee did, and her little enemy was expelled. No one ever found out what Vee did, except me. And I’m telling you this because I want you to understand two things: she holds a grudge, and she’s smart enough to fuck you over without anyone knowing who did it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can outplay her,” you mutter. “I almost did before.”<br/>
<br/>
Abi shakes her head. “Vee’s too smart for you. She doesn’t just maintain <i>her</i>4.0 GPA, she keeps half the year afloat. Why? Because she’s collecting blackmail material, because she knows she’s hanging around with future congressmen, judges, industrialists. In 20 years, when she needs a favor, she’s going to turn up and ask for one – complete with a flash drive showing how the honorable gentleman from New York only got into the Ivy League by cheating through high school. That’s how Vee Macklin thinks. So you need to start thinking about <i>what happens next</i>.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. “I don’t know,” you confess. “I guess I have to deal with Vee, then. Not kill her, obviously. Just… deal with her.”<br/>
<br/>
“And me? You going to make me your little slave again?” It’s a harsh, deliberate provocation. <br/>
<br/>
“No! I mean, I guess I could cut you in?”<br/>
<br/>
Abi’s eyes remain narrowed and imperious. She looks at you, thinking. Then she takes a breath. “This is the deal. Take or leave it. I’ll get your book and your masks away from Vee, and I’ll come up with a way to stop her – the others don’t fucking matter. Kristen is too weak to do anything, Todd thinks with his tiny maggot of a cock and Chris would walk away. They’re all dead to me now. After that, you and I are going to be partners. You like being a woman, Will? I’ll find you any one of a dozen girls – or guys – at Xavier’s who are almost as good, if that’s what you want. You can play your little dress-up game. We could even have some fun together.” <br/>
<br/>
She tightens her lips. “But if we’re going to do this, I need to know everything. Every detail about those masks. You’re going to tell me, <i>real careful</i>, how it works and what we’ve got to play with. And then I’m going to tell you how we’re going to get your book back."</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221111121213121
author_id: masktrixie
title: A View from the Sidelines
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You nod. “Deal.”<br/>
<br/>
Abi smiles – the evil grin that you’ve worn yourself, the cat-that-got-the-cream smirk when she’s not faking a pleasant demeanor. “OK,” she says. “Get on with it.”<br/>
<br/>
You spend the next half-hour going through in detail the masks, how they’re used, and the options available to you. Abi, to give her credit, sits and listens, rapt; she asks questions when she has to, but mostly shows patience, occasionally twisting a loose strand of hair in thought. You tell her virtually everything… the only thing you hold back is that the real Shelly, the dead Shelly, is about six feet away from her. When you finish, she leans you back on the wall and tilts your head, appraising your appearance. <br/>
<br/>
“So you’re wearing the tennis coach as a meat suit right now? Kay. Let me have it. And the blank mask. And that stuff you put inside the mask to make one of those slave-things. If I slather that stuff inside a mask it will be your slave, right?” She flicks at a loose nail. “Obviously those clothes, too. And I’ll need your truck.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why do you need this mask? You could take the Ruth one.”<br/>
<br/>
"Because," Abi says, "I’m going to go back to Xavier’s and switch places with someone. Once I'm inside, I'll try to get your book and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" you ask, your head in a whirl. "Who are you going to—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know! I'll improvise. I'll go in as this tennis coach and see who I can talk tennis to." She cocks her head. "I’ll take that Ruth mask too, as a backup, just in case."<br/>
<br/>
"And what am I supposed to do?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Wait to hear back from me. I'll call. What day did you say it was? Saturday?" She muses. "I should try to get there around noon, classes will be getting out, day students will be leaving. <i>Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne/ He travels the fastest who travels alone.</i>”<br/>
<br/>
“That poetry?” <br/>
<br/>
Abi flashes a smile. “Kipling. Now come on, time’s a-wastin’. What’s the matter? Get out of the mask.”<br/>
<br/>
You think about it for a moment. If you do, you’re going to collapse, helpless. Abi will be able to do what she likes, until you get in another mask. And the only one available is… <br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck, no. I can’t be Shelly. I can’t do it. Can I? Except I have to be. Just once more.</i><br/>
<br/>
Abi looks at you expectantly. You’re virtually shaking at the thought. You close your eyes, lay on the floor, say the words, and haul the Acuna mask off your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
<i>Welcome to the world of Abi Steiner, Will Prescott. Fuck it up with your stupid book and I’ll tear out your goddamn eyes.</i> Abi’s voice echoes in your head. You see her in the mirror, staring at you in her, appraising herself. Your body is on fire as something tugs and pulls at you, lifting you up, dragging you across the room. Instinctively, you whip your hands up to your eyes, trying to protect them, trying to stop her, but the hands just bat you away. <br/>
<br/>
“Stay still,” Abi says. “I need her clothes.” The top comes free and there’s a rush of chill, but the fire burning on your forehead more than matches it, spinning you in a flux of freezing ice and soaring heat.<br/>
<br/>
“Mask,” you croak. You don’t know if you’re trying to avoid putting it on, or if you need to. You can’t stomach being Shelly, and yet you know you’re useless now. You’re broken, helpless in the hands of Abigail Steiner. She could do anything to you… <i>God, she’s going to kill me. She tricked me. How could I be so…</i><br/>
<br/>
“All right. Hold up a moment. Here…”<br/>
<br/>
The world goes black.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh my God Will’s gonna get everything back! He’s so freakin awesome! We’re gonna show those Hogworts kids who’s the best!</i><br/>
<br/>
You shoot up, full of youthful vigor and nervous energy. In the far corner, toward the door, Carmen Acuna is also coming around. Carefully, she reaches up and touches her face, then runs a finger through her jet hair. Looking down, she traces the curves of her body.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck,” she says, her accent absent once more. “This is incredible. I mean, look at me! I’m <i>her.</i> And I can…” she furrows her brow. “Ah, <i>puedo hablar español. Asombroso...</i>”<br/>
<br/>
“The memories take time,” you squeak in Shelly’s voice as you grab her hoodie. “It took Kristen a day to act like you. Your biggest problem is Acuna’s accent. But it comes.”<br/>
<br/>
“It doesn’t matter,” Abi says, as she finishes changing clothes. “It’s not like anyone at St Xavier’s is going to know or care.” She throws Acuna’s hair over her shoulder and straightens her top. “This is so odd. Everything’s different. My height, my weight. Even my vision. I think I understand how addictive this must be, now. I’m sorry for what I said, Will. I didn’t realize just what wearing one of these masks was like until I tried it.”<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. “It’s not like many people know what it’s like to be someone else.” You finish your change and stand up. “But Kristen and Vee do. And we need to get moving.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s the plan, Will. Or do I call you Shelly?”<br/>
<br/>
“Will,” you say, walking over to the workbench to gather the paste and the Ruth mask. “I guess I’ll wait here. Maybe walk to the Cherry Brook Bakery, up on the corner that way. Shelly’s diabetic, got to keep her blood sugar up.” You pass the items over, along with Shelly’s number.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll tell your, ah, golem? I’ll tell it to come straight back. Wait for my message.”<br/>
<br/>
You hope she knows what she’s doing.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“Shelly! Hey! What are you doing here!” The young girl is approaching you from the bakery counter. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit, shit shit! This is all I need.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Sit, sit, sit! You’re just who I need!” you bounce in your seat, grinning at Helen Kim. “Oh my God I was going to text you! I was reading online about how to adopt a pygmy puff! Not, like, a freakin’ real one or anything, because magic isn’t freakin’ real and that sucks! But like, a plushie one! And then I was gonna pretend it was a real pet, because my mom won’t let me get a cat because allergies!”<br/>
<br/>
Helen comes and sits down with you. It’s pure bad luck that you’re out at the Bakery when she passed by, and now you have to pretend to be a deliriously excited girl while her irritating, morose friend shoves a macaron in her mouth. You’re just glad Shelly’s brain can autopilot her breathless, continual stream of thoughts, and Helen’s natural moodiness means she tends not to say too much.<br/>
<br/>
It’s almost 3pm. She was supposed to get into Xavier’s and message you. And so far – nothing. That means either she’s been captured by Vee, and you’ve squandered all of the advantages you had, or she’s betrayed you. You feel a little nauseous at the thought.<br/>
<br/>
“Shelly, you OK? You look like you’re going all pale.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m fine,” you mutter, trying to regain your train of thought. “So, uh. What was I saying? Oh, yeah. So I was… was…” you’re struggling to hold on to your identity. Shelly’s thoughts are there to access, but you can’t concentrate.<br/>
<br/>
“You got your insulin kit with you?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not that,” you say, waving off Helen’s concern. “Uh, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be back.” You get up from the table and tap your plate. “Don’t you dare take a bite of my shortbread, ‘kay?”<br/>
<br/>
You rush away from Helen, rush straight into a stall and slam the door, staring anxiously at Shelly’s cell, almost willing it to buzz. “C’mon,” you say, bouncing as Shelly would. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” <i>If magic is freakin’ real, I should be able to make a cell ring—</i><br/>
<br/>
The phone buzzes. Your eyes go wide in shock. Giggling at the serendipity, you read the text.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I got to Kristen and I'm sending her back to you under that coach's mask. No one knows I'm back to being myself.</i><br/>
<br/>
It’s a far more joyful Shelly, buzzing, dancing, hopping, skipping Shelly-bean that practically leaps into her seat opposite Helen. Your day has just got a whole lot brighter.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Coach Acuna arrives at your basement hideout about half an hour later, a few minutes after you – or Shelly – have managed to shake Helen Kim with an imaginary message from your mom about heading home. Acuna greets you warmly with a 'Hey Boss', but your mind is already on other things. A second text has come through from Abi.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit Kristen hid the book and didn't tell anyone else where she put it, and now I have to pretend with V and them that someone must have stolen it. LOL, they all think you and Shelly are hiding at St X anyway, so they believe me. But you need to find out from Kristen somehow where she hid it.</i><br/>
<br/>
Yes! You’ve begun to turn the tables. You’ve got the real Abi Steiner back among the Xavier’s gang, and Vee is convinced she’s Kristen. Paranoia is running rife, it seems – and it sounds like the real Kristen has tried to betray her gang! You’ve got little option but to question her. <br/>
<br/>
But once she’s told you were she hid the book so you can pass the news on to Abi, what are you going to do with her? This was, after all, a girl who planned to throw your body onto a railway track. A girl who taunted you as she held you prisoner in that storm drain. A girl who ordered her lackeys not to visit, who let you starve and freeze to the point that your own body is a damaged, fever-soaked shell. You could put her under the Will mask, as you did with Abi… or you could give her a taste of her own medicine.</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211111212131211
author_id: masktrixie
title: Turnabout Interrogator
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It’s a strange reversal of the situation you faced only two days ago. It feels like a lifetime. A mere day in a prison and you broke. Once this is over, once everything is back to normal, you can take time to recover. But are things ever going to return to normal? You have to wonder, as you order the Acuna golem down on the floor and use Shelly’s knowledge from summer camp to tie her up against the table tennis table. It’s what you keep telling yourself, but it feels more like a lie with each repetition.<br/>
<br/>
“Nice and fast?” you ask the golem. Acuna nods.<br/>
<br/>
“I don't think I can get out of this, boss," she says, "and I imagine I’m stronger than this girl.”<br/>
<br/>
So you remove the golem’s mask. The form of Kristen Wright-Wallace appears, bound and unconscious. You look at her. She really isn’t that fat; a little overweight, perhaps, but it’s mostly just around her jowls and thighs, puppy fat that could melt off easily. And yet the endless bullying and torment she’s gone through at Xavier’s from Abi drove her to identity theft and, almost, murder. You tilt her head up and poke her cheeks. Being stuck as her wouldn’t have been so bad – but you weren’t about to let Vee Macklin control your life forever.<br/>
<br/>
You lean back against the workbench. You could have sworn things looked different when you headed to the bakery – a few items seem to have moved, and the tarp over Shelly isn’t in the same place – but it might just be good ol’ fashioned paranoia. You check your phone while you wait, sending a message to Shelly’s mom that, yes, you’re still in town and yes, you had lunch. Then, just for the hell of it, you bombard Helen with emojis until Kristen begins to stir.<br/>
<br/>
“Wake up, Abi,” you tell her. “Well, ex-Abi. Back to the minor league, now.”<br/>
<br/>
Kristen’s eyes go wild, and she instinctively tries to reach up to her face, only for the bonds to restrain her. She looks down to her chest. Then up at you, her eyes wide with utter panic.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh shit! Please! Please, Shelly, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do what I did to Will! I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me!” She starts blubbing incoherently, unable to hold it back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Of course, she assumes I’m Shelly. She must think I’m the one that grabbed her.</i><br/>
<br/>
You fold your arms.“Kristen! Hey! Quiet!”<br/>
<br/>
“Please, I’m sorry! I tried to tell Vee to let Will go! It was all Vee, I just went along with it! I tried to tell her to stop, but he worked out it was me under the Abi mask. Vee was the one who said not to feed him! She was worried that he’d try and tell them we’d replaced her, and… and she wanted to do like, a good cop, bad cop thing! She thought she could learn more that way, like where you were hiding!”<br/>
<br/>
You have no idea whether she’s telling the truth or not. But Abi warned you Vee was smart; maybe she was playing a bigger game than you anticipated. Either way, you need to get through the bullshit quickly. “Kristen!” you snap, as much as Shelly can actually snap; it’s more an impudent squeak. “C’mon, freakin’ calm down!”<br/>
<br/>
“Look, Shelly. I know what this must be tough for you. You’re, new to high school, right? It must be real confusing for you, what’s going on and everything with some older kids. It’s confusing for me too! But we can look after you much better than Will can. You remember, when you told him about the book, and he started pretending he was some master wizard? I was him for a little bit. I know he was using you. Just let me go, and we can fix all of this.”<br/>
<br/>
You stare back at her, and fold your arms tighter. “Right now I just want you to answer some questions, OK?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure, Shelly. Sure,” she takes a deep breath, trying to get rid of the blubbing tears. “That’s fair. I mean, you caught me, right? You caught me. Hook, line, sinker. I never suspected he was you. You’re smart, Shelly. You outsmarted us! We were so busy looking for you we never realized the rock things still followed Will. I know you’re patient, you must have been to stay hidden like that! We want you on our side.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up!” you snap again, letting Shelly’s eyebrows knit in genuine frustration. It’s not an emotion she experiences often, unless you mess with her friends. “Kristen, I can just use a mind band on you,” you lie. You don’t have one. “I want to do this the easy way. So take a breath or something. I just want to know what you did with the book. Where is it?”<br/>
<br/>
“The book? Right! Right, the book! Of course. Sure. Uh, I moved it! After the dorm sweep. When I realized you had the masks, I knew you were close so I moved it.”<br/>
<br/>
<i>I had the masks? What does that mean? What the fuck has been going on at Xavier’s?</i> But you just tuck that little nugget back for now. Once you're at Xaviers, with Abi, maybe it will start to make sense. For now, it doesn’t really matter.<br/>
<br/>
“To where? Where’s the book, Kristen?” You narrow your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“The library!” she exclaims. “I put the book in the library, OK? I slipped a dust jacket over it. <i>The Real Tam O'Shanter: The Folklore of Ayrshire</i>. It’s on the main wall, just down by the pokers next to the fireplace! All right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you sure?” You try and give Shelly’s hardest stare. Kristen tries to give you a placating smile.<br/>
<br/>
“I promise, Shelly. I promise. That’s where you’ll find it. Just… just let me go. I’m sorry. I’m telling you, it’s all Vee. I was always all Vee. I can help you. I can protect you from her. And from Will. Do you really think he’s on your side? You barely know him. Let me―” Kristen’s still pleading as you place the golemized Will mask on her, and watch her head sag and droop even as it turns into your head.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck,” you say, a word that sounds beyond ridiculous in Shelly’s voice. You have no idea how much of Kristen’s blathering was true, but you doubt you’re going to get much beyond what she’s said. And so you crane back your head, twist a knot in your long, red hair and pull out your goofy, Ravenclaw-themed phone.<br/>
<br/>
The Will golem, Kristen safe underneath, comes to life as you send Abi details of where the book’s hidden. And then you get back to waiting.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re Shelly again, boss?” the new Will asks. “What the fuck did I miss?”<br/>
<br/>
You blow out your cheeks. “Man, I don’t even know where to begin.”<br/>
<br/>
You relay the events of the past day to your golem, then sit back and wait. Shelly’s mom sends you numerous texts reminding you to get home by 7pm, but you keep blowing her off with lame excuses, then send a few messages to Helen, asking her to cover for you. Fortunately, it soon emerges it you won’t have to be stuck as Shelly that long after all. A little after 5pm, you get another text from Abi. You still have no idea what’s going on at St. X – but she seems to have been busy.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Got a choice of people you can be. Guy or girl? This isn't permanent or final for you. It's so you can look around and pick someone yourself. Give me answer and I'll bring them to town with stuff so you can make switch.</i><br/>
<br/>
You weren’t sure about Abigail Steiner, but she’s been an incredibly effective ally, transforming your fortunes in a mere six hours. Now, you scratch Shelly’s nose and ponder the decision. You’d quite like to get back a sense of normalcy, and being a guy at least puts you in the right gender. <br/>
<br/>
But, you have to admit, being a girl could have benefits. You’ve enjoyed being Carmen, Abi and Ruth (although you hate being Shelly). And maybe you should ask Abi if she can score you a disguise as a faculty member. That could give you a whole new dimension as you tie up the loose ends: Todd Baldwin, Chris Fiore and Davina Macklin…</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222111112121312111
author_id: masktrixie
title: Becoming Will Prescott 2.0
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Find a guy</i>, you tell Abi in your reply. You don't hesitate, either, before hitting "Send." You’re acutely conscious that, for the past couple of weeks, your experience under the masks has been solely feminine. It would be nice to have a dick again.<br/>
<br/>
It would be nicer to have hard and steady nerves, too, and that seems like another argument for being a guy.<br/>
<br/>
The text buzzes back almost immediately. <i>Shame, thought you would pick a girl. Already had 1 lined up, would have been fun.</i><br/>
<br/>
The world, you decide, has become a very confusing and mixed up place since a frightened freshman girl disguised as a panicked assistant coach careened into your life. Although, in truth, you’re not sure if it is your life anymore. Right now, you <i>are</i> that freshman girl, after all.<br/>
<br/>
"So what’s the plan, boss?" the golemized Kristen (now Will Prescott) asks. "You think Abi’s going to come through, or do we need to start figuring out what happens when she double-crosses us?"<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think she’s going to do that?"<br/>
<br/>
The golem looks at you incredulously. "Seriously? C’mon, dude. Stop thinking like Shelly."<br/>
<br/>
You bridle. "It’s not like that! We’re playing on the same team! We have to if we’re going to beat these guys."<br/>
<br/>
"If you say so, <i>Shelly</i>," the golem retorts. "All I know is that I’ve already had to haul your dumb ass out of Mutantville once, and I don’t want to do it again. You saw what that experience did to Ian."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ian! Shit.</i>  "Hold that thought," you squeak (sounding just like Shelly). "I forgot I haven’t checked in on him. He’s probably freaking out." You pull out Shelly’s phone, sticking your tongue between your teeth as you try and work out what to say. You try and tap into Shelly’s thoughts about what would comfort Ian, but then you realize the last thing he wants is Michelle Nolan. You’ve got to be yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hey, this is Will. We are fixing this. Right now you + family are safe. Do not panic.</i> You frown even as you send it. It’s stupid and kind of goofy – not to mention exactly the kind of message that <i>will</i> make a freshman panic. But at least it’s genuine, which is more than anything else you’ve given Ian in the past week.<br/>
<br/>
Then you settle down and wait. "So," you say to your golem.<br/>
<br/>
"So," it replies, looking awkwardly around the room, as unwilling to chat or do much of anything as you are. You blow out your cheeks, look down at Shelly’s phone and open up the YA novel she’s reading. <i>The Moonlake Saga. Can a mortal boy ever love a fairy girl?</i> the cover asks. You close the app again, uninterested. This is going to be a long wait.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
"Who is he?" you ask Abi as you study the face of the boy who's lying tumbled in a heap on the basement floor. He's very unassuming, though the more you study him the more you see a passing similarity to— "Hey, wait a minute! Did you just go out and pick a guy who looks like me?"<br/>
<br/>
The more you focus on him, the more he looks like your stunt double. He has your build – lanky and loose-limbed – and a similarly narrow face. Even his hair is a similar shade of straw-colored blonde, though chopped back a little shorter than you like to wear yours. But he's wearing a smart pair of chinos and a genuine leather bomber jacket – the kind of clothes you doubt you could afford even second-hand. OK, maybe you are <i>his</i> stunt double. You just hope he's smarter than he acted when Abi brought him in. He managed to get one question out – "Hey, you a volunteer too?" – before Abi slapped a mask onto his face. You caught him as he fell, though you couldn't do much more than cushion his fall as you collapsed under his weight.<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn’t look anything like you," Abi retorts. She’s now dressed as though she’s come straight from a designer shoot, in a pair of skin-tight jeans that, while modest, make sure to show off every impeccable curve, and a cozy, oversized knitted top. "His nose is totally different and he’s not as cute."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Wait,</i> you think. <i>Did Abigail Steiner just call me cute?</i> You cover your momentary embarrassment by pulling off Shelly's hoodie. "Well, I guess it's too late now," you say. "That’s the last of our masks until we make more, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually," Abi says as she pulls another mask out of the satchel, "<i>this</i> is the last mask we've got. I picked it up off Todd, so score one for us <i>and</i> minus a point for them. I think that's everything they were able to make before Kristen went and hid the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think she was trying to double-cross them?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, you're the one who talked to her. By the way, did she tell you how I got up close to her?" Abi gives you a very close look as she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
She breaks into a huge grin. "It was awesome. Easy and awesome. I just had to send a note saying I wanted to talk tennis, and she came running. I <i>am</i> the best player at school. Fuck, I'm the best player in this stinking <i>county</i>. I get coaches visiting all the time, and Kristen couldn't resist playing the tennis star to the hilt!"<br/>
<br/>
"That was a smart play," you agree. "It gets us both back into your school to look around."<br/>
<br/>
"I know! And the others are already going crazy." She snickers. "They're convinced you and Shelly are right in their midst. And we will be. They don't know I'm back to being myself, and as for Mark here—" She nudges him with her toe.<br/>
<br/>
"What's so special about him?"<br/>
<br/>
"His name’s Mark Pederson, and he’s Chris’s roommate."<br/>
<br/>
Your legs almost buckle beneath you. "<i>What</i>? You want me to hide out in the same room as your boyfriend? With one of the guys <i>hunting me down?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course! That's why I picked him! Think about it!" Abi says. "You’re going to have to share a room with someone anyway, and this way you'll be right under Chris’s nose, where he'll never suspect. I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, two people have already impersonated me and stuck their tongue down his throat, one of whom <i>was a guy</i>, and he <i>still</i> didn't pick up on it."<br/>
<br/>
You must have still looked skeptical, for she walks over and cups you under the chin. "Stop. Worrying. And get out of that mask, pronto."<br/>
<br/>
You comply with a grimace. Laying yourself out on the cold, hard floor, you grasp your face. But you can't resist giving Abi a parting shot before knocking yourself out.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, and I’ve played squash as you," you remind her. "Sorry to be the one to break it, but Kelsey Blankenship is better." You pull your face off before she can reply.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
<i>What the hell am I doing following Abigail Steiner into a basement?</i> you groggily wonder. <i>Nice one, Mark, thinking with your dick again. Although if she sucks me off at least it’ll be worth it. Ah, shit. There’s some other kids down here. It actually is some charity bullshit like she said.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Wake up, Mark." You open your eyes to find Abi leaning over you, her hair draping into your face like a soft curtain. She smiles, lowers herself, and kisses you softly. "Hey there."<br/>
<br/>
You return the kiss, feeling warm and tingly all over as you remember Mark’s afternoon. Abi came up looking for Chris to help her with some church table tennis league, then asked if you wanted to help. And, given you’ve had a raging hard-on for Abigail Steiner for years, of course you said yes. You were hoping for more. You've accidentally walked in on Abi and Chris twice, and after the second time, Abi made a point of coming over to tease that you should have asked if you could join in. Was she serious? God, you hoped so!<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you say, your voice trembling a little.<br/>
<br/>
Abi pulls back and laughs. "You sound just like him." She stands up, and puts out a hand to help pull you upright. You find you’re fully clothed, save the jacket, and you wonder who dressed you. Your golem smiles sourly, and gives you a grudging thumbs up.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," you grunt back, "I'd better sound like him if I'm going to <i>be</i> him."<br/>
<br/>
You rifle deeper into his memories as you sit up. <i>Fuck, he really is Will Prescott 2.0.</i> You’ve got similar interests, similar levels of academic ability, similar difficulties with girls. If it wasn’t for the fact Mark is on a few sports teams – sport at Xavier’s is compulsory – and has <i>massively</i> more money, you could almost be interchangeable.<br/>
<br/>
But Abi has said Mark is just a stepping stone to better people and places, so it doesn't much matter anyway. "So, the next step is to make more masks, right?" you say. "You did get the book back from Kristen’s little hiding place, didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Abi grimaces.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, no," she says. "I was holding off telling you until we got back to Xavier’s. But—"<br/>
<br/>
You wait with a sinking heart for her to finish the sentence. When she doesn't, you prod her with a "But what?"<br/>
<br/>
"The book wasn't where you told me it would be. Are you sure Kristen gave you the right location?"</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221111121213121111
author_id: masktrixie
title: Making Your Mark
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>(With Seuzz)<br/>
<br/>
"You can ask Kristen yourself, if you want." You gesture to your golem, who shrugs and walks over to the table, ready to be tied up again.<br/>
<br/>
"In a bit," Abi says. "First, let’s get Mark here under the Shelly mask. Is it coated in paste? No matter, I’ve got some here, I’ll take care of it. You just need to get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because," Abi explains with the slightest of sighs, "I don’t want Kristen seeing Mark Pederson. That way, if something goes wrong she can’t tell the others who you’re disguised as."<br/>
<br/>
It's a good point. So you leave her to work, and kill time in the alley behind the cathedral by fishing Mark’s cell from your jacket pocket. You cuss softly when you see the number of contacts and volume of texts you'll have to keep up with in your new identity. <i>Yeah, there's another difference between us</i>, you reflect as Mark's own familiarity with his social network floods up around you, like a severe case of <i>deja vu</i>. He's got a much bigger circle of friends and acquaintances—practically the whole sixth form at the school. You tug your new-to-you bomber jacket about you as you settle more comfortably within your new memories. <br/>
<br/>
<i>got abi steinre riding my ass</i>, you text Mark's best friend, Jacob Drewlin-Frye, <i>but not n teh sexy way</i>.<br/>
<br/>
A quarter of an hour later, your thumbs are still flying expertly across the screen when Abi steps out with Will and Shelly. "C’mon, Mark," she says. "We need to get back."<br/>
<br/>
"We done here?" You look up in surprise. In that moment, you <i>are</i> Mark Pederson, and you <i>are</i> stunned to hear that Abi has finished up her errand.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," she says. "Trust me, the book is gone. I know how to talk to Kristen, and it is not where she put it. So I guess that’s your priority – find who took it and where they put it. I’ll help, but I'll have to keep an eye on Vee and the others too."<br/>
<br/>
"So how the flip am I supposed to find it?" you protest, having recovered yourself from Mark's preoccupations. "Anyone could have taken it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Will." Abi comes up close, and tiptoes her fingers up your chest. "I’m coming to you with solutions, and you're coming back at me with problems. Use what Mark knows, and get the fucking book back. Hmm?" She tugs at your collar, and kisses you softly. "You’ll figure it out."<br/>
<br/>
Your spirits rise, and other parts of you rise with them. And if you're not exactly full of confidence as you drive back to the school, you are keen to show Abi that you can do the job she's set you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
It's dark when you get back, and you agree to split up until Sunday afternoon, as there's no way Mark and Abi would casually hang out. Dinner's already being served when you enter Founder's Hall, the converted mansion where the sixth-formers live and work, but Abi goes upstairs while you head into the dining hall. The cavernous room hums with conversation as you pick up some chicken cordon bleu. You glance around, licking off some of the sauce that's spilled onto your thumb, looking for a table to land at. Jacob signals you from one, and with a nod you saunter over with your tray.<br/>
<br/>
"Should take that off," sniffs the pretty blonde girl you settle in beside. "Manners maketh the man."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, Emily," you mutter as you peel off the bomber jacket. You wad it up into a cushion and sit on it. "Just got back from the Falls."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, what's the Bitch Queen scheming now? I saw her dragging you off."<br/>
<br/>
You exchange a pained, private smile with Jacob. Like Mark, he nurses an intense hard-on for Abigail Steiner.<br/>
<br/>
"No scheme," you tell Emily Dustal as you salt your chicken. "Charity stuff. The cathedral's got this table tennis league they’re setting up for disadvantaged kids." Well, it was the story Abi gave Mark.<br/>
<br/>
"Disadvantaged!" Her voice bubbles with mirth. "Is that what they're calling the townies these days?" she cackles. "Disadvantaged?"<br/>
<br/>
"When did Steiner go into town?" That's from Tyler van Buren, a strapping soccer player seated next to Jacob. His brow furrows. "I was watching her go in and out of the library all afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"Was her boyfriend with her?" Emily asks. "I bet they do it in the stacks. No one uses the library on Saturdays."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Tyler mutters as, under the table, Jacob presses his foot against yours. "I'd push a bookshelf over on 'em if I caught 'em at it." He pushes whitish-blonde bangs from his eyes and rolls his shoulders inside his jacket. "Fucking Fiore."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace and bite your tongue as Jacob continues to silently tap his foot against yours. The anguish in his face is easy to interpret. <i>Chris Fiore banging Abigail Steiner? </i> Mark has told Jacob about catching them doing it — twice! — and it's pretty plain Emily's peevish gibe is giving him a painful chubby.<br/>
<br/>
"What were you doing in the library?" you ask Tyler. "I didn't know you could read."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. My Spider-sense tells me we're overdue for a biology quiz, and I got a half-hour oral presentation on Monday."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't sound like you got much done, if you spent all your time watching Abi."<br/>
<br/>
Tyler lays his fork down and plants his elbows on the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, Pederson," he says. "You were with her all afternoon, weren't you? In town? And what were you doing with her? Was Fiore there to get between you and her?"<br/>
<br/>
You almost swallow your tongue as you remember some of the fantasies Mark entertained on the drive out to Saratoga Falls. That perfume of spices and cream that drifts off Abi was driving him wild.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, shut up," Emily mutters. "I'm sorry I mentioned the whole thing. Last thing I want is to listen to you pervs perv all over Abigail Steiner."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, what the hell, it wasn't just Abi keeping me distracted." Tyler grins at her. "I could tell you about Mary and Corinne, and Margot Corrigan, and ... um ..."<br/>
<br/>
Emily makes some waspish reply, and then Jacob says something, and then the topic shifts to Mathilde Ambard and the oral presentation that Tyler has to make with her on Monday. But you're not paying attention, concentrating instead on your dinner and on the implications of some of the things that Tyler has said.<br/>
<br/>
Like: Kristen hid the book inside the school library, but now it isn't where she claims to have put it, which means that someone had to have moved it. But who? And why?<br/>
<br/>
Okay, never mind why, you won't figure that out until you know who, and Tyler has given you a couple of suspects.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mary</i> would be Mary Occam, a snooty little bitch from East Coast who makes up in ego what she lacks in stature. <i>Corinne</i> would be Corinne Kennedy, who trails after Mary the way a lap dog trails after her mistress. <i>Margot Corrigan</i>, who is a fifth-former, would be "Margot the Teenage Witch," whose presence, even in her school uniform, manages to make every chapel meeting feel like the prelude to a Black Mass. <i>Just the sort</i>, you think, <i>to grab a book with a pentagram stamped on the spine</i>.<br/>
<br/>
Except that Kristen said she hid the book inside the dust-jacket of another book. So there wouldn't be a pentagram to attract anyone's attention.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, where you hanging out now?" Jacob mutters as Tyler and Emily take their trays over to the busing station. "My room? I think Rob went into town to see a movie, and I got our stash back from Addison."<br/>
<br/>
You feel your eyebrows go up. Jacob keeps some <i>really nice</i> Scotch on hand. Real stuff, old stuff, <i>expensive</i> stuff; stuff he is frantic to keep out of sight of his prefects, who like to launch surprise room sweeps, and who made a big one just today. You salivate at the thought of a glass of something jeweled and smoky and warm.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure, if you're pouring," you tell him. A few minutes later you're mounting the broad, carpeted stairs to the second floor, where the sixth-formers have their rooms.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
But you've just stepped into the main corridor when you turn at a shout from below. Jocelyn Moss comes sprinting up the stairs after you, clutching your bomber jacket, and with a panting grin she thrusts it at you. "Forget something, Mark?" she gasps.<br/>
<br/>
Holy shit, you realize. <i>That jacket's worth more than everything I own back home, but Mark would think nothing of leaving it behind somewhere!</i> "Thanks, JM," you tell her as you take it, using her preferred name.<br/>
<br/>
"Anytime." There's a desperate glint behind her rigid grin. "So what are you up to now?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance back at Jacob. "Just hanging out," you reply. "Killing a Saturday night."<br/>
<br/>
"Well—" JM gulps down a deep draught of air. <i>Can she really be that out of breath?</i> "I was gonna go out for a walk. I love these cold autumn nights, you know? And you got your jacket with you." Her eyebrows lift.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, so?</i> you want to ask.<br/>
<br/>
Then it hits you. Or rather, you realize that <i>she</i> is hitting on <i>you</i>.<br/>
<br/>
The signs are unmistakable because — <i>God damn it</i>, that's another difference between you — Mark knows how to read a girl. She's running her tongue over her lower lip, and fiddling with a long strand of her red hair while twisting from foot to foot.<br/>
<br/>
Yeah, she's pretty goddamn obvious about it. But <i>you</i> had to swap places with Mark Pederson before you could reliably pick up on her cues.<br/>
<br/>
The trouble is that Mark doesn't even like Jocelyn. She's boring and shallow and not even very pretty. Even now, you feel yourself trying to edge away.<br/>
<br/>
But she's got a crush on the guy you're pretending to be, and when would a chance like this come along again?<br/>
<br/>
Also, she's tight with Mary Occam, one of your suspects.</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211111212131211112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Paranoid Roommate
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Well, have a good walk," you tell Jocelyn. "See you tomorrow." You snap off a curt little salute, and turn on your heel as her face falls.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude," Jacob mutters. "You just threw away, like—" He breaks off.<br/>
<br/>
"I threw away what?"<br/>
<br/>
"JM was practically going down on you back there!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not <i>that</i> desperate," you retort. Well, not yet, anyway.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You take that drink with Jacob, and the Scotch <i>is</i> truly excellent, like liquid amber, but you don't linger in his room, not after he rolls onto his back and starts explaining, in graphic detail, what he would do with Abigail Steiner—or Jocelyn "JM" Moss, for that matter—if he ever got naked with her. It gets real disgusting real fast, particularly as he makes copious references to his own penis. You soon flee with the excuse that you're obviously keeping him from a date with one of his socks.<br/>
<br/>
But once back in your own room—the one that you now share with Chris Fiore—you decide that, pervy friends and close confinement with other seventeen-year-olds notwithstanding, the life of Mark Pederson is pretty sweet. With the room to yourself, you kick back on Mark's bed with Mark's handheld console—a top-of-the-line QAIYXM whose price tag would give your dad a heart attack—and zone out with a selection that includes every game you’ve ever drooled over, and a couple of dozen more, besides. Sure, you have to use Mark's saves, which disgusts you a little, and you have to rely on Mark's own muscle memory as you expertly flick and tap buttons, but you fly through the games, breaking off only now and then to answer chats on your cell phone and to open up the fresh bag of Doritos Mark had hidden in his foot locker.<br/>
<br/>
It's nearing ten when the door opens and Fiore comes in, returning from whatever fuckoff-ery he was busy with.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuckoff-ery.</i> That's Mark's own reaction, and you stare up sullenly at your roommate for a long few seconds before, like a slow awakening from a strange dream, you dredge your own identity from the clinging depths of Mark's.<br/>
<br/>
Chris only gives you the barest of nods as he falls onto his own bed. He's got his headphones on—the guy is an audiophile with a hard-on for gear—and something synthy and repetitive is slipping out from the cans. Bluish bags hang under his eyes, and his sandy, shaggy hair looks like he's been combing it with a pencil.<br/>
<br/>
"You alright?" you ask. "No offense, but you look like shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Since when are you the fashion police?" He makes a face, then stifles a yawn. "Just a long day."<br/>
<br/>
<i>And a long night last night,</i> the peevish thought comes to you. <i>You woke me up at three in the morning when you came stumbling back in.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Shouldn’t party on a school night," you say aloud, and toss the console aside. You fish out your cell and open up Messenger again. You're up to seven simultaneous chats. Mark’s social network is really something to behold, and it makes you realize just how lazy you were back at Westside. With a little attention, a little focus, and a little effort, you could have been in any group you wanted.<br/>
<br/>
Chris shrugs. "Yeah, well. Mind if we go lights-out early? I just want to hit the sack."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I might watch YouTube for a bit, but I’ll use my Beats." You tap furiously at the phone with your thumbs. You sense rather than see it when Chris sits up to give you a hard stare.<br/>
<br/>
"Who you chatting with?" he asks. There's an edge in his voice. "I said, who are you chatting with?" he repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"What’s it to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell me."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" You glance up. Chris has never bugged Mark before about his texts or chats. "I'm not sexting your girlfriend, if that's what you're worried about."<br/>
<br/>
Chris's expression hardens. "Just show me, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
The moment hangs. Then with teeth bared Chris leaps across the space between your beds, clawing for the phone. You snarl and slap back at him, but he's quickly atop you, pinning you to the bed, grabbing for your hands. He catches you by the wrist and squeezes until your grip loosens, and he wrenches the cell from your fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"The hell is your problem, Fiore?" you yell as he scrambles back to his feet. "It's none of your goddamn business who I talk to!"<br/>
<br/>
He ignores you and bends his head over your phone, scrolling through the messages and windows. You make a sour face at his back as he studies the conversation between you and Mark Pederson's mother, about what to get his sister for Christmas.<br/>
<br/>
Chris snorts when he's satisfied, and tosses the cell back to you. "Sorry," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"The <i>hell</i> was that about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I’m sorry, all right? It’s been a fucking weird couple of days. I’m gonna grab a shower." Head hanging, he turns to the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Jerk," you mutter as he goes out. You flick over to another chat window. <i>Fiore jst grbbed my phone away, wtf!!!!</i> you text Tyler. <i>Sm1 tell hm I was with Abi? Paranoid much?!?<br/>
<br/>
Ur rm m8 is a ducking asshole,</i> Tyler texts back. <i>Duck Fiore.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Amen to that,</i> you think. <i>Duck Fiore indeed.</i><br/>
<br/>
And to duck him good and hard, all you need is to find the your book of magical masks.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The sun is shooting straight into your face when you wake the next morning. You lift your head to grimace at it, then stretch, yawn, scratch your ass, rearrange your junk, and shift under the covers. It’s Sunday. You’ve got time before church to have a little fun, you think as you let your eyes fall shut again. You grope under the sheets for your jerk-off sock. <i>Who to fantasize about this morning? Chelsea Cooper? Cindy Vredenburg? That new soccer player everyone was talking about at the start of the year, the one who moved over from—</i><br/>
<br/>
You frown. <i>Where's your sock?</i> Your eyes pop open with panic. Your mom didn't find it, did she?<br/>
<br/>
You jerk upright and blink numbly at a room that's like something out of a dream—familiar, yet unfamiliar. The walls are peach and tan, the window frame is in the wrong wall, there's a long desk with two laptops and a small, flat-screen TV ...<br/>
<br/>
You groan and fall back onto your pillow. <i>I'm not Will Prescott,</i> you remind yourself. <i>I'm Mark Pederson.</i> This is the first time you’ve woken up as a guy, and it’s far more disorienting; at least when you were a girl you realized almost immediately that you weren't yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Chris is still sleeping, a little drool trickling from the side of his mouth, as you get up. In the communal shower, the water bangs and thumps inside the ancient pipes, but it's scalding hot and shoots out like a firehouse, scorching your skin and unknotting your muscles. Afterward, with only a towel about you, you contemplate your stolen body in a mirror. Mark's face is remarkably similar to your own—dark, narrow eyes under bangs of dirty blonde hair. Regular, even features—but his face is squarer and more filled out. He keeps himself close-shaved, too. His hair is much more neatly trimmed, and it lays flat, in feathery layers, with only a little light combing. He's more filled out in the torso, too, with pecs that actually have some slight mass and definition, and when you flex an arm, a bicep visibly pops up.<br/>
<br/>
It depresses you. If Mark Pederson is "Will Prescott 2.0," he is a (modest) upgrade from the original. Again, it strikes you how lazy you are in comparison to him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Fiore are up and dressed—in chinos and polo shirts, for it's Sunday—when there's a sharp rap on the door. "Room sweep," a hard voice barks on the other side. "Open up!"<br/>
<br/>
You gape at Fiore, who calmly opens the door. Todd Baldwin—Chris's friend, the meaty football player who wanted to beat the crap out of you after your unmasking—barges in. "Foot lockers open!" he says. "You hear me, Pederson?" he snaps when you don't move.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck this, you're not my prefect!"<br/>
<br/>
"You know the way it works! Open it!"<br/>
<br/>
With a grumble you open Mark's locker as Baldwin searches your bed, feeling under the pillows and mattresses and between the sheets. You stand aside with folded arms as he kneels to search your locker. He pokes under books and clothes and devices; and he freezes after pulling out a small paper box. "What are these for?" he asks as he waggles the box of condoms at you.<br/>
<br/>
Your face falls. "Those aren't mine!" you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd shit myself if you said they were. You holding onto them for a friend?"<br/>
<br/>
You shoot a hot glare over at Fiore, who turns to look out the window.<br/>
<br/>
"If they're not yours, you won't miss 'em," Baldwin says, and stuffs them into his pack. He makes a note on his cell, then brushes you aside to search the computer desk.<br/>
<br/>
He's much more cursory with Fiore's side of the room, and when he skips Chris's bed you call him out on it. He makes a face, but tackles it with same zest as he attacked your bed. And when he lifts Chris's pillow, he freezes just as he had when invading your locker. But this time he says nothing, but only replaces the pillow.<br/>
<br/>
He does call Chris out into the hall with him, and you take advantage to hop over to see what Chris was hiding. You freeze too, when you see it.<br/>
<br/>
It's a mask. You turn it over. Abi's name floats inside, over a surface coated with a grayish paint.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It's the mask of Abi that I was wearing,</i> you realize. <i>And it would make a golem if someone put it on.</i><br/>
<br/>
The hairs go up on your back. You only have to get this mask onto Abi, and she would be your slave again.</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222111112121312111122
author_id: masktrixie
title: A Mask, a Moon and a Monobrow
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You gnaw your lip, then decide against taking the mask.<br/>
<br/>
You’d never get ten paces. Chris is going to come back in any minute, and he'll go to move it once Todd is through chewing him out. Besides, Abi can’t pretend to be Kristen if she’s trapped under a mask. And, as much as an obedient Abi could be fun – and you drift through all the perverted options Jacob suggested earlier – you’ve also got a track record of bad things happening when you try to outsmart people.<br/>
<br/>
But that doesn't mean you can't use the mask to firm up Chris's belief that you are really Mark Pederson.<br/>
<br/>
So you're twirling the mask on the tip of your finger when Chris returns.<br/>
<br/>
"Forget to lock up your gimp mask?" you ask as he freezes. "Is this what you pricks were wearing at your party? Or have you and Abi got some weird-ass Phantom of the Opera roleplay going?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mark," Chris says, his voice slow and on edge, "please give it to me. That’s mine."<br/>
<br/>
"Like those rubbers Baldwin found are yours?" You hurl the mask at him, and he fumbles the catch. "It’s a good thing it was Todd doing the search. Or was that the idea, he can cover for you and everyone else who was at the party? Marius or Lucas would have busted you if they'd found that thing. It's practically a signed confession of what you and your asshole friends got up to the other night."<br/>
<br/>
Chris pales, and a feverish light blazes in his eyes. "Just keep your hands off my shit, okay?" he says in a half-strangled voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Blow me." You grab up your jacket. "I’m not the one who shoved his condoms in my locker, or started snooping through my cell last night. Y’know what, Fiore? You’ve been acting like a complete ass all weekend. I’m still tired out from you stomping back in here on Friday night at, like, 3am or whatever."<br/>
<br/>
"I said I was sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"Mmhmm," you mutter. "As long as you're apologizing, maybe you can try asking my permission before you start using my locker as a hiding place. I might even say yes, as long as you keep your creepy-ass shit to yourself. Jesus, are you jerking off into that thing?" You flick a hand at the mask and shudder. "At least have the decency to use a sock."<br/>
<br/>
With that, you storm out, and as you round a corner into the main hallway you almost careen into a half-dressed figure.<br/>
<br/>
"What the—? Loki! Why the flip aren’t you wearing pants, man?"<br/>
<br/>
Sure enough, Loki Swain, the resident space cadet, is swaggering around in nothing but two towels, one around his waist and the other swaddling his head like a turban.<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, Mark!" He grins and chucks his chin at you. "Just coming from my morning ablutions. ’Sup?"<br/>
<br/>
"We’re in the middle of a dorm sweep! You really think this is the time for a shower?"<br/>
<br/>
His chilled, stoner's smile only widens.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yah," he laughs. He points past you. "That explains how come Marius's going through my shit down there, I guess. Won’t stop with just a dorm search, though. After that party on Friday, you know the prefects’ll be crackin’ down. Smart money says we’re going to be confined to the school for a week."<br/>
<br/>
"And you’re okay with that?"<br/>
<br/>
Loki laughs. "Not like there’s anywhere to go, anyway. Saratoga Falls? It’s, like, the boonies. Might as well just kick around here. Later, dude."<br/>
<br/>
He’s relaxed about it, but he has a point – Todd and Abi’s Halloween party will bring more heat than just a dorm sweep. Chances are, the prefects will cancel all exeats – which if they do means you’ll be trapped in the school. The thought preys as you watch Loki swagger back to his room. He drops the towel, briefly mooning the hallway, before closing the door behind.<br/>
<br/>
Then comes the explosion.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus Christ, Loki!" That's Marius Hall, his voice and words muffled by the door but clearly audible through it. The door bangs open again and Marius charges out, flushing deep. He glowers at you, then swings around to bang on the next door down. "Room sweep!" he barks, and lays his hand on the knob.<br/>
<br/>
But he hesitates, and doesn't open it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Genius</i>, you think. <i>Loki walks in with his cock flapping, and stops his room search cold. </i>The idea never would have occurred to you — or Mark, either — and you grimace with vexed admiration at Loki's cleverness.<br/>
<br/>
You also grimace a little to realize that it's probably Mark's side of the brain you're sharing that figured out Loki's tactic, not yours.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You're preoccupied with Mark's annoying habit of being better than you, you're unprepared when Emily Dustal calls to you as you round down the stairs to the first floor. She's leaning against the vending machine. "Making a run into town, going to get the new iPhone. You want anything?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>She’s talking about a new phone like it’s shopping for groceries</i>, you think. You’re about to reply in the negative, when you notice the girl standing beside her. She’s as preppie as the rest of you, but dressed head to toe in black, with a curling line of kohl at the side of her eye that contrasts her short blonde hair, and little silver crescent moon earrings.<br/>
<br/>
Margot Corrigan. A part-time goth at best, nowhere near all-in like some of the kids at Westside, attire still within the school dress code. And yet for St. Xavier’s, that slight hint of eyeliner is enough to qualify her as the bride of Satan.<br/>
<br/>
She's also one of your suspects — one of the girls that Tyler noticed going in and out of the library the morning that the Libra vanished from Kristen's hiding place.<br/>
<br/>
Emily notices you staring. "Margot wanted a ride. I said if she paid for lunch, I’d take her."<br/>
<br/>
You smile at Emily. "Got room for one more?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
The ride into town is completely unhelpful even if, on the face of it, it couldn’t start better. As you climb into Emily's sedan, Margot mentions her Latin homework, and, in passing, the name of the school’s resident honor student: Davina Macklin. Your ears perk almost instantly – <i>Latin and Vee!</i><br/>
<br/>
But Emily revs the engine so hard you think she is going to stall it, then after peeling out of her parking space launches into a non-stop litany of raw hated on the subject of your nemesis.<br/>
<br/>
All the way to Saratoga Falls, and through it to the mall on the other side of town, Emily spews venom at Vee. Every so often you cast a glance into the back seat at Margot, who is sitting awkwardly on her hands. But whatever Margot was going to say, there’s no way she’s going to dare finish it now.<br/>
<br/>
"And I will tell you another thing," Emily concludes as she pulls into a parking space at Northgate Mall. "She waxes her eyebrows. She’s got a fucking monobrow. So there that is."<br/>
<br/>
"’Uhm, okay," Margot says, not really sure how else to dodge Emily's rant. "Uh, where should I meet you for lunch?"<br/>
<br/>
"You’re not coming in?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I’m going to head over to that clothes store." She gestures toward Northgate Place, where Thrifty Nifties is located.<br/>
<br/>
Emily turns in her seat. "A <i>strip mall</i>?" she says. "Margot, you’re gonna get knifed there. Or tetanus. Or some kind of rash. Eesh, I feel sticky just looking at it." Margot blanches a little under Emily’s sharp tongue.<br/>
<br/>
"Cut it out," you tell Emily as you unbuckle your belt. "Jesus, why’s everyone being an ass today? First Fiore, now you. How about this: you go get your new iPhone, I’ll go with Margot, and everyone can be happy again."<br/>
<br/>
Emily shoots you a look but doesn’t argue. Soon, you’re crossing the wide parking lot alone with Margot, and you’ve finally got a chance to speak with her.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry about Emily," you say. "Just don’t say the words ‘Vee’ or ‘Macklin’ near her. Ever."<br/>
<br/>
The goth girl’s eyes widen. "Yeeeaaah. I picked up on that. I guess she must have a lot of stuff to hate her for, given she feels that strongly."<br/>
<br/>
You blow out your cheeks. "No, it's a simple story, really. Emily was captain of the soccer team. Now Vee’s the captain. That's all."<br/>
<br/>
Margot rolls her eyes. "Sports are so dumb."<br/>
<br/>
You nod and let the conversation hang for a few beats before striking. "Why was it you mentioned Vee anyway? Something about Latin homework?"<br/>
<br/>
Margot shoves her hands down the front pockets of her black denim jeans and shrugs. "It’s nothing, really. Just this book I’m stuck on."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jackpot!</i> "You know I take Latin, right?" you say as your heart starts to thump. "Why don’t you tell me what’s the–"<br/>
<br/>
But you break off when you spot the guy hanging around outside Academy Sporting Goods. Your blood turns to ice.<br/>
<br/>
It's Ian Cowdray. He looks skittish and nervous, with blue wheals under his eyes. If it were any other person you know, you wouldn’t give it a second thought.<br/>
<br/>
"You okay?" Margot asks, and that's when you notice that you've stopped in mid-stride. You nod at her, and resume walking, even as the pavement seems to warp under you and your heart thuds harder and harder. Ian Cowdray, a 14-year-old boy scared beyond reason, convinced thieves in the night are coming to steal his life. A boy unable to run or tell his parents about the danger he sees in the face of every stranger.<br/>
<br/>
A boy who could probably use a kind word and a little reassurance.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221111121213121111223
author_id: seuzz
title: Using What You've Got
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You could go over there and say something to Ian.<br/>
<br/>
But he'd probably freak out and run away. Besides, he has no reason to trust that you're who you'd say you were.<br/>
<br/>
Or you could call Shelly and tell her to talk to Ian.<br/>
<br/>
But she's surely done that already, and there's nothing you could tell her to tell him that would make him feel better.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you hesitate all the way across the parking lot, and with every few steps you feel the urge to swerve back toward Ian. Not until you are at the door to Thrifty Nifties do you finally give up on any other plan but to follow Margot and talk to her about the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
Besides, that's the best thing you could do for Ian. <i>Get the </i>Libra<i> back and squash the bad guys.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So, this homework you were telling me about," you prompt Margot.<br/>
<br/>
But you've lost your chance. As soon as she's in the door she makes a dive at a rack of dark, distressed vintage clothing, and is oohing and aahing over it and telling you about some of the plans she has for it.<br/>
<br/>
Then Cassie Harper—a motormouth classmate from Westside who you didn't realize worked at Thrifty Nifties—comes over to help, and soon she and Margot are lost in talk of buckles and hose and scarves and hats. You occupy yourself in a corner with your cell phone, and stoutly resist when both girls try cornering you with shirts to try on.<br/>
<br/>
And then ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"—and the punchline? It turns out it was Ovid she was having problems with. <i>The Metamorphoses.</i> A flipping bullseye. Just one hanging on the wrong wall, is all."<br/>
<br/>
Abi looks up at you from under her brows as you finish relating the story of your afternoon. You're in the school's game room, and she's stretched halfway across the pool table, a cocked cue in her hands, and after giving you a wry look she sinks two balls, then moves around to line up another shot.<br/>
<br/>
It's early Sunday evening. The game room will be filling up soon, and even now the largest table is occupied by a quintet prepping a session of Settlers of Catan. But this is the best place to talk to Abi. It's public enough that it won't look funny if anyone finds you with your heads together, but still private enough that no one will be able to overhear you.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I'm starting to think maybe you <i>don't</i> want to find the book, Will," she says as she eyes her next shot. "It seems to me you're not trying very hard."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course I'm trying! I spent the whole afternoon with Margot and Emily—"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you score with either of them?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Her question knocks you back on your heels.<br/>
<br/>
"You heard me," she says after sinking another ball. "Why don't you go put on that cable-knit shirt Mark was rocking so hard at our last study group? You know, the sea-green one." She runs a glistening tongue over her lower lip. "The form-fitting one."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, jeez!" You grip your own cue as your cocks swells. "Why would you say that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because maybe then you'd go put it on for me? But my point is—" She frowns at the lay of the table. "My point is that I made a deal with you. Help me find the book, and I help you find someone who can rock a good look. Or who has money. Or who has both. But now I'm thinking maybe—" She straightens up to chalk the tip of her cue. "Maybe you figure you've already got someone with both, so why bother helping me out anymore?" She lifts her chin, and her lip curls.<br/>
<br/>
You stiffen all over; and yes, you stiffen a little more where you're already stiff.<br/>
<br/>
"I got lots of reasons to help you get the book," you retort. "And I'm trying. You got ideas for how to look for it, I'm listening."<br/>
<br/>
"Go put on that cable-knit shirt," she replies, and stretches across the table to take another shot. Her filmy blouse falls open a little, giving you clear line of sight straight down between her boobs. "Go put it on, then go look for some of those girls you say were hanging out in the library." <br/>
<br/>
With a hard <i>clack</i> she sinks another ball, leaving only two on the table. "Jesus, Will," she says. "Use what you've got."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you don't go put on that shirt, and you don't go out looking for any of your suspects. Abi's "pep talk" has depressed you too much.<br/>
<br/>
You itch and twitch all over after parting with her, and after briefly landing in your room, you go sit out on the building's South Balcony. It's chilly out, and you pull the bomber jacket closely about yourself as you slump in a wrought-iron chair and stare out across the central traffic circle at the four-story New Hall across the way, where the first- through fourth-formers have their rooms.<br/>
<br/>
The problem, you decide after batting at your angry mood in a distracted way, is a building resentment against The St. Francis Xavier School, and the obliviously entitled and privileged kids to who attend it.<br/>
<br/>
Kids like Mark Pederson. You fidget with the zipper of his jacket.<br/>
<br/>
Stepping into Xavier's has been more than just stepping into a new school, or into a higher socioeconomic strata. It's been like stepping into an entirely new mode of existence. A mode of existence where money dissolves every obstruction and sands away every rough spot. As Mark Pederson you don't have to worry about money for clothes or gas or gear; and with no distractions and no threats, there is nothing between you (Mark Pederson) and anything and everything you could want or hope for. It's like you've been given a clean canvas, new brushes, fresh paint, and unlimited time and freedom to fill that canvas with whatever you care to fill it with. You are bounded only by the limits of your own wit, will, and talent. <br/>
<br/>
So it is with everyone here. They all breath the raw, harsh, purified air of Mount Olympus, and have no task but to forge and fashion themselves into whatever they want to be.<br/>
<br/>
Take Dawson Young, who you spot now sauntering out from the patio below, heading toward the parking lot. He is tall, slim, blonde, his hair always swept back into a perfect pompadour. When he turns the light catches the angle of his chiseled cheekbones. He's one of the drama kids, like Jacob, and there are rumors that his lips, nose, ears, and jawline are not exactly natural—which is exactly what would be expected from someone who is avowedly pursuing a career in modeling and photography. If those rumors of cosmetic surgery are correct, he is almost literally a self-made guy!<br/>
<br/>
Or take Travis Rallart, who you now glimpse loping up <i>from</i> the parking lot with his guitar slung over his back. He isn't even in the music program, he's taking mostly business classes! But every summer he spends a month studying music with Bernie Leadon of the Eagles—or is it Thom Gimbel of Foreigner?—not because he's wants to be a professional musician, but because he likes playing the guitar, and someone in his family is friends with someone who knows Bernie Leadon—unless it's Thom Gimbel—so he gets to take lessons from him.<br/>
<br/>
But this isn't why you resent their privileges.<br/>
<br/>
No, what really grates is that <i>they are totally taking advantage of those privileges to improve themselves,</i> to make themselves <i>even more elite.</i><br/>
<br/>
By contrast, when did <i>you</i> ever do the same thing with what you had, with what "Will Prescott" has back in Saratoga Falls? Bad enough the kids have so much. But they make you feel worse because so many of them are <i>using it to get more.</i><br/>
<br/>
Isn't that what you should be doing? What you should have always been doing? Again, it shows up how lazy you have been. But would it count as "improving Will Prescott" if you do it by becoming one of them? Which is what Abi is promising you? Maybe you should take from the example they set, instead of taking one of their lives.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, whatcha doing out here?"<br/>
<br/>
You jump a little, and look around at the interruption. It's Jacob again, the guy from last night with the Scotch and the filthy fantasies. His mother acts in that procedural police drama <i>CGIS</i>, and his dad writes plays for the New York stage. Naturally, he's in the school's drama program.<br/>
<br/>
"Waiting for the future to arrive," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
But at least he hasn't got every advantage. Jacob may be rich and he may come from Hollywood, but he would have a hard time outwitting your old friend Keith in a game of tic-tac-toe.<br/>
<br/>
So he only snorts. "You must be the only guy I know who's looking forward to Monday," he says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The hammer drops the next morning, right after chapel. <i>No exeats to be granted for the next seven days.</i> You can sense the seething resentment against the prefects when it is announced. Not only for the suspension, but because everyone knows that two of the prefects, at least—Abi and Todd Baldwin—planned and threw the party that led to the suspension. Those two are immune to pushback, but Chris Fiore isn't, and he gets jostled hard when the moody crowd files out.<br/>
<br/>
Most everyone heads out for class, but you run upstairs to change shoes—you tried on Mark's new loafers, and they're killing your ankles. You open up the footlocker and bark with anger at finding that Chris has somehow got back inside it and—<i>totally against your warning yesterday</i>—hidden the mask of Abi there. You shove it aside with a snarl—<br/>
<br/>
—and find a second mask beneath it. You freeze.<br/>
<br/>
Then you push the second mask away, to uncover the half-buried item beneath it.<br/>
<br/>
A book with red leather covers, and a golden pentagram stamped on the spine.</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211111212131211112232
author_id: masktrixie
title: Close Encounters of the Vee Kind
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>by Masktrix<br/>
<br/>
You burst out laughing. You can’t help yourself. You’ve sold Chris Fiore so hard that you’re Mark Pederson he’s hidden the <i>Libra</i> in your locker! The asshole must have stolen the book from Kristen on Saturday, which makes – by your count – at least the fourth or fifth time the St Xavier’s students have tried to screw each other in the past three days. The sooner you get away from this nest of vipers, the better.<br/>
<br/>
As for the two masks, when you examine them you are startled to find that they are masks of yourself and Shelly. You have to rewind far back into your adventures to place them: they are the masks that brought into the school with you, which Kristen found and put on, thus setting off this whole, horrible farce.<br/>
<br/>
Well, neither one matters now. You shove them aside and scoop out the book, whipping it open, finding it stuck right at the torn page where you left it. You hug it close to your chest and—<br/>
<br/>
But now what? If you take it now, Chris Fiore is going to know that his roommate isn’t who he seems to be. Mark, for all his creature comforts, doesn’t have a car here, and you can’t exactly call an Uber without one of the prefects noticing. You could call the Will golem, of course – but that means relying on yourself, and if the past two days have shown anything, it’s that Mark Pederson is far better than Will Prescott when it comes to just about everything. You discount the Shelly golem entirely. Like, how is a freshman going to get twelve miles across the county?<br/>
<br/>
You grab a sticky note off your desk and write in Mark’s looping cursive: <i>I told you yesterday – ASK!!! I’ve put your kink shit in my stash</i>. You stick it to Chris's pillow with a hard smirk. If the prefects couldn’t find Jacob's Scotch, Chris won’t know where to look either.<br/>
<br/>
So that should buy you a day with the <i>Libra</i> and a chance to make a new mask, under which you can slip out without Abi or her former friends catching you. You grab up your backpack, shove the book and masks in with your textbooks, then change into a pair of dark sneakers and head for class.<br/>
<br/>
The first period – an English linguistics class – is a tense affair. Bad enough that Abi is in there, but so is Vee. You take Mark’s seat in the back row of the class, and are <i>very careful</i> every time you open your bag so as not to reveal to any prying eyes that you’ve got the <i>Libra</i>.<br/>
<br/>
And if your first class makes you regret carrying the book around, it’s a feeling that only intensifies during second period, as you sit down at the lab bench in the chemistry department – and find yourself partnered up with Davina Macklin herself.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit. C’mon, Will. You can do this. Just be yourself. Be Mark Pederson.</i><br/>
<br/>
It’s no good. You feel every muscle in your body tense from her presence. The last time you were this close to Vee, she was threatening to suck out your brains, and grabbing your fevered head and tossing it around like a rag doll as she interrogated you. Here, in the daylight, the shadows that seemed to drape her features and elongate them into a dark sorceress are gone. But even so, she remains the girl that tortured you on Halloween.<br/>
<br/>
She reaches over the bench and you instinctively flinch, pulling your hand back as if it’s been caught in a mousetrap. Vee turns and looks at you. Your heart thuds against your chest. She pauses a moment, then continues to reach over to turn on the gas tap. You try to drag up every ounce of Mark’s cool and fail miserably. You’re paralysed with fear.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Stay still. Stay calm.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to get your textbook out or not?" Vee asks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> You daren't open Mark’s rucksack in front of her, lest she glimpse the <i>Libra</i> and the masks in there. Your mouth is dry, and you can't speak. All you can do is stare straight at her.<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Vee snaps. "What’s the matter?" The faint smell of gas from the tap begins to poison the air.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," you finally manage to gasp. "I left my book in my room, everything was tossed in the dorm search, it’s among Fiore’s crap somewhere. Can we share?"<br/>
<br/>
Vee’s expression remains icy. "What were you staring at me for?" she demands. The gas whistles from the tap, making it uncomfortable to breathe, and you feel as if she’s about to lunge across the lab table to rip your face off. <i>Say something! Say anything!</i><br/>
<br/>
But nothing comes to you, and you shrug weakly at her. With a snort she sets her textbook between you, then ignites the Bunsen burner. And yet, even as its flame flashes across the bench, her eyes remain locked on you.<br/>
<br/>
You work in silence throughout the whole class. It’s a horrific feeling, being so close to the one person who, genuinely, terrifies you, and yet unable to break character. You try to focus on the chemistry problem – a relatively simple experiment, you making notes, Vee doing the actual legwork – and struggle to ignore the suspicious glances she shoots you throughout.<br/>
<br/>
<i>She’s suspicious. Of course she’s suspicious. You’re acting suspiciously. Stop it!</i><br/>
<br/>
You gasp with relief when class ends, and hurriedly scoop up your pack. “I’ll email you the data later tonight,” you tell Vee, glad you’ve managed to get through the class without further drama.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks, Will,” she says.<br/>
<br/>
“No problem,” you reply as you turn away.<br/>
<br/>
Then it hits you.<i>She called you "Will."</i><br/>
<br/>
You wheel. A grin of Grinch-like glee unfurls across her face. She says nothing, though, and coolly saunters from the room. Your heart falls past your past, past your ankles, cratering in the floor beneath the soles of your feet.<br/>
<br/>
You've blown your cover. In a shameful moment of weakness and terror, you blew your cover with Vee. She saw through your disguise, through the fake face, to read your real character in your sweaty, tongue-tied, pale-faced performance. It doesn't matter what you look like. It only matters what you do, how you act. And you gave yourself away by acting like yourself. And how she confirmed it was you was masterful: a slow rise in tension before casually using the wrong name.<br/>
<br/>
She’ll be looking for Todd Baldwin now, or Abi. It doesn't matter which. Abi won't be able to protect you, not with yourself exposed to the full fury of the gang – she’ll have to lie to cover her own ass, and you’re not sure if you trust that she’d rescue you from under any golem mask they choose to place you under.<br/>
<br/>
You have to get out of here, hide, call your doppelganger and get him to ditch school and come out to switch places back with you. They'll know you <i>were</i> Mark, but if you escape with the <i>Libra</i> and use the day to pick up supplies, you can probably get yourself another hiding place before they can chase you down at your house. After all, they'll be trapped at Xavier's by their own stupid suspension of the exeats. The St. X kids may have all the cards, but they still can’t leave the grounds.<br/>
<br/>
You appraise your surroundings. The classroom has emptied by now, and there's a thirty-minute break before third period. Thirty minutes to find a hiding place before that walking wall of muscle that is Todd Baldwin hunts you down. But, as you take out your cell, two alternate plans hit you from opposite sides, pinioning you in a three-way agony of indecision.<br/>
<br/>
You've got two other masks with you—the masks of yourself and Shelly. The first is worse than useless inside the Mutants' school. But the second... Todd and the others will be looking for Mark Pederson. If you can get into New Hall or the laundry and snag a uniform, you could hide out for the day as Shelly. True, she doesn't belong at Xavier's, but no one knows everyone at the school, and while under that face you might be able to fashion a mask or two and slip into another hiding place.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand... Is your identity as Mark really blown? So what if you were nervous around Vee? And so what if acted strangely when she called you by the wrong name? You could still try brazening it out. After all, you've already bluffed Chris into believing that you don't give a shit about the masks. Hell, you even left him a note <i>telling him</i> that you were taking the mask and books! That should throw suspicion onto him, given that he was the one who put them in Mark's locker! You could just play innocent and hope that they don't remember how to pull masks off.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, the latter is a really awful risk to run. If you make one more slip, you’ll be at the mercy of the Xavier’s kids once again…</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222111112121312111122321
author_id: seuzz
title: Masks Beneath Masks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>I can't believe what I'm about to do,</i> you think as you dodge through the halls, looking for Jacob. He had Art last period, and he always hangs around that classroom during the break, so—<br/>
<br/>
Sure enough, you find him slouching in the back of the room with his cell phone while Mr. Morley occupies himself with paperwork at the front. Jacob does a double-take as you slide into the seat in front of him.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey." You jerk your chin in greeting as you zip open your pack. "Got something for you to put in your stash."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes widen. "Shit," he mutters as he looks over your shoulder at the teacher. "Not here!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes here! Anyway, it's nothing contraband. My asshole roommate's been leaving his shit around my side of the room, and I wanna teach him a lesson." You draw out the masks. "Put these in your room, will you. And keep them out of sight!"<br/>
<br/>
Jacob whistles as he takes the masks. "Nice work. Where'd you get them?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, offa Fiore. And don't play them! They're, like, bondage gear or something. Some sick sex thing he's got going with Abi."<br/>
<br/>
Jacob's eyes light up. "Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chill thy ass, man. And take this too." You hand him the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So what's the story?" he asks as he tucks the three items into his pack.<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me, and I don't want to know either, not after seeing where he's been keeping them. But now he's started hiding them in my footlocker, and it's pissing me off. So hang onto it, will you, until I tell you to give it back. I wanna teach him a lesson about respecting boundaries."<br/>
<br/>
Jacob smirks and nods violently. Almost, it causes you to change your mind about entrusting the stuff to him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
With the incriminating items now safely hidden with Jacob, you feel a little more confident at being able to pass yourself off as Mark Pederson, misunderstood classmate. Still, you pass the rest of morning break in a state of fear, expecting hard hands to be laid upon you at any moment. Nothing happens, though, and you're still in one piece when you head off to third period. That's a Politics class, which you share with Abi, but none of the other goons are in there. She looks up with an alarmed expression as you come in, and beckons you over.<br/>
<br/>
"What the hell did you do to set Vee off?" she hisses as you settle into the desk behind her. "She thinks you're—" Her eyes dart about. "Not yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"I freaked out around her in Chemistry, okay?" you confess. "You know how creepy she is. And she had me tied up in a storm drain for a whole day and night, telling me all the horrible shit she was going to do to me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she thinks you're not yourself!" she repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"How'd you hear about this? Did she come find you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, she ran into me and Chris while looking for Todd."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck!</i> "Did she find him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. We told her she was full of shit, but I don't think she believed us. I don't know what Todd'll do when she tells him." <br/>
<br/>
Your sphincter loosens.<br/>
<br/>
"Will," she says, and lays a hand on your arm. "Do you think you can keep bluffing them?"<br/>
<br/>
You lick your lips. You are assailed by sudden doubts.<br/>
<br/>
But you've already disarmed yourself. "I'm going to have to try," you tell her. You pull your arm away. "And don't call me 'Will'. That's how Vee bluffed me into giving myself away."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After third period is lunch. You have no appetite—you're feeling quite nauseated, actually—and you only pick at your food. The others at your table—a more or less random collection of sixth- and fifth-formers—are too wrapped up in their own talk to pay any attention to you. Surreptitiously you glance around, and notice that neither Abi nor Chris, nor Vee or Todd, are in the dining hall. You don't know whether to be relieved or terrified by their absence.<br/>
<br/>
You approach fourth period, Latin, on dragging feet. It's another class you share with Vee, and she glares blackly at you from the other side of the room as you enter. But Dr. Shutt maintains a seating chart, and you drop yourself into another row and affect to ignore her. When you can't maintain that pretense any longer, you return her a very long look and a shrug of bafflement at her manner. Her lip curls, and she turns away with an audible hiss.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not fooling anyone, Will," she mutters as she falls in beside you when class ends.<br/>
<br/>
"What the flip are you talking about?" you demand, and you have to fight to keep the quaver out of your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I'm talking about. And you're stuck in here with the rest of us. No exeats, remember?" Her dark eyes glitter.<br/>
<br/>
You have Abi for fifth period, and you are almost frantic with worry when you drop into the desk beside hers. "What's going on?" you ask. "Where were you guys at lunch?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chill, we were having a conference in my room," she says. "Just hang loose. Nothing's going to happen."<br/>
<br/>
"Vee's threatening me!"<br/>
<br/>
"She's just mad because none of the rest of us would go along with her."<br/>
<br/>
"Go along with her at what?"<br/>
<br/>
"At trying to tear your face off. She's paranoid, W— Mark. They all are. Except me and Chris. We're on your side."<br/>
<br/>
"You <i>and</i> Chris?" you gape.<br/>
<br/>
She smiles.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you told him the other day," she says, "during the room sweep, I mean, when that mask turned up. But he thinks you're who you say you are."<br/>
<br/>
That should be a relief. But that nauseated feeling comes back.<br/>
<br/>
And you almost puke all over yourself when you return to your room for afternoon break to find Chris Fiore and Todd Baldwin both waiting for you there.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Room search, Pederson," Baldwin says. "Open your foot locker."<br/>
<br/>
"The hell?" you demand. "You made a sweep yesterday!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just your room today," Baldwin says. "Open it."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes, and kneel to open up the locker. You stand back with folded arms as Baldwin squats to paw through Pederson's stuff. You give Fiore a long, hard stare. He doesn't speak, though, until Todd looks up from his search with empty hands.<br/>
<br/>
"What's this about?" Chris asks, and holds up the sticky note you left on his pillow.<br/>
<br/>
"It's what it says," you retort. "I'm sick of you hiding your shit—your sick, pervy shit—in my things. Your flipping rubbers, your flipping bondage gear—"<br/>
<br/>
He flushes. "What bondage gear?"<br/>
<br/>
"That flipping mask! I open up my locker this morning, and I find it—I find <i>two</i> of them—in there! Keep 'em under your fl— Under your <i>fucking pillow,</i> douchebag! Not in my—!"<br/>
<br/>
Your voice dies in your throat as a sinister figure appears in the doorway: Davina Macklin. <i>So much for no one going along with her plans,</i> you think with a sinking heart.<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of masks?" Todd asks. "Gimp gear?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, I'm not into—! It was two masks, blue, like the kind hanging over the stage in the theater. You know, Grecian tragedy masks, or whatever. And a book," you add, figuring that you might as well go all in. You jab a finger at Fiore. "You keep your fucking rubbers out of my shit, man, and keep the rest of your f—"<br/>
<br/>
"Where is this stuff now?" Baldwin asks. He turns a hard stare on Chris, who has paled and is looking at you in astonishment. "I asked you a question," he repeats, turning to you when you don't answer. "Where is this 'stash' where you keep contraband?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate under Baldwin's glower, then break down.<br/>
<br/>
"I gave it to Drewlin, during morning break. I wanted to teach you a fucking lesson!" you yell at Chris. Then you cast a quick glance at Vee before rounding on him again. "And you wanna know how fucking sick it made me, carrying around your sick, pervy shit in my pack all morning? Just fucking thank me, you douche, for not hauling it out and showing it to Vee in Chemistry, and telling her all about what kind of kink you're into!"<br/>
<br/>
Pale, astonished looks are exchanged among the other three. Then they charge out into the hall, Vee the last to follow. You are shaking hard as you sink back against the window sill. But you leap back to your feet when Baldwin returns to summon you to follow. He leads you to the door to Jacob's room, where Vee and Chris are waiting with nervous expressions. <br/>
<br/>
Todd bangs on the door with the side of his fist. "Open up, Drewlin!" he barks. "This is unofficial business, but I can make it official by getting Reeves!" <br/>
<br/>
Your eyebrow goes up. Threatening a student with Dalton Reeves ought to be against the Geneva Conventions.<br/>
<br/>
Baldwin turns to you. "Get him to open up," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Jacob!" you call through the door. "You in? It's me, Mark. I just want to get that stuff back I gave to you this morning. Jacob?" There's no reply. "Maybe he's not in," you tell Baldwin.<br/>
<br/>
But even as you speak, the latch scratches, and the door opens a crack. "Jacob's not here," says the figure who peeps out at you.<br/>
<br/>
Baldwin sighs—it's more like a bark—and shoves the door open. He barrels inside, then freezes. "The fuck is going on in here?" he says. "Who are you?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart falls. You sidle up behind Todd and peek around his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
The occupant of the room has fallen back and is cowering against the blonde computer desk. He wears the uniform of a Mutant, but the unkempt hair doesn't meet code. Nor does the unshaven chin. As for the dark, rabbity eyes that peer up at you in terror—<br/>
<br/>
As nauseated as you, Mark Pederson, feel ... judging by his expression, Will Prescott must feel a hundred times worse.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221111121213121111223211
author_id: masktrixie
title: Joining the Club
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>by Masktrix<br/>
<br/>
Will Prescott gapes and gasps and chokes on his own words. You manage to croak out a five-word question –"Who the flip is that?"– before Vee and Chris shove you aside as they crowd into the room with you.<br/>
<br/>
Todd spins the interloper about and slams him onto a bed, pinning him there."Macklin!" he barks even as he bunches up a fist over Prescott's face. "The fuck we do now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Close the door!" Vee shouts at Chris. He whirls and crashes into you, and together you tumble in a heap against the door, slamming it shut. You pretend to fumble at the knob, and succeed in locking yourself and others inside.<br/>
<br/>
All at once, everyone starts talking. "Is it –?" "Get Abi!" "Where'd he –?" "Guys, get off, you're –!" "Who is that?" The last question is yours, and Vee answers by trying to shove you through the solid surface of the bedroom door.<br/>
<br/>
"He was fucking Drewlin the whole time?" Todd yells.<br/>
<br/>
"No!" Chris shouts. "It's a mask! One of the masks that – Vee! Vee!" he repeats as with a hot glare she tries choking you with your own tie.<br/>
<br/>
Chris pulls her off you. "Get the mask off Jacob," he pants. "Vee!" He shakes her.<br/>
<br/>
She glowers at you, then shakes herself and turns toward the bed. Prescott shrieks as she advances, until Todd cuts him off by closing a meaty hand around his throat. His eyes bulge.<br/>
<br/>
Vee looks over her shoulder at you. Her eyes smolder.<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your fucking mouth shut, you dumb prick," she hisses. "Your little mind is about to be blown. Behave, and good things will come your way. Misbehave, and I will <i>end </i>you."<br/>
<br/>
She turns back to Prescott, and lays a hand across his brow. She murmurs a short incantation, and pulls. A bluish mask come away in her hand.<br/>
<br/>
You feign shock as an unconscious Jacob Drewlin-Frye collapses under Todd’s grip. "The? Actual? Fuck?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
Todd releases the limp body, sniffs, and sits up. "What do we do with him?" he asks, chucking his chin at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I think we need to have a little chat," Vee replies. She gives you a very even look.<br/>
<br/>
"What about practice?"<br/>
<br/>
"You’re a prefect, for fuck’s sake. Write me a note." Her eyes remain locked on you.<br/>
<br/>
"What did you do to Jacob?" you ask in a whisper. It's a good thing you are legit terrified of Vee; very real terror is probably what Mark Pederson should be showing right about now.<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't do anything," Vee says coldly. Clinically. "Nothing happened here. Jacob had a weird nightmare is all. None of us were in this room with him. <i>Were we</i>, Mark?"<br/>
<br/>
You flinch under her hard stare. "No," you reply. "I didn’t see anything weird here at all."<br/>
<br/>
Vee drops a bony hand onto your shoulder. You shudder at her touch.<br/>
<br/>
"Good," she says. "That’s very good. Congratulations, Mark. You’ve just become part of something that’s literally going to change your life."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
You rest against the barrel in the storm drain – the Catacombs, as the others call it. You’ve followed them down here like a cult procession, the memories of your time in this dungeon still haunting you. It’s painful just to look at the place you were held prisoner, and it’s only through Mark’s strength of will that you’re able to resist having flashbacks. Now you’ve got a good look of the place, you can see that it’s far more vast than you thought when you were trapped; away to the side, beyond where you were bound, the tunnel plunges even further underground. What the fuck was this place?<br/>
<br/>
Todd Baldwin, Chris Fiore, Vee Macklin and Abigail Steiner stand before you. You’re one of the gang now. It used to be Kristen… now it’s Mark Pederson. Four of you are still in school uniform, but Chris must have found Abi just before she hit the court, for she's brought a tennis bag with her, and she is rocking a polo shirt and a pleated tennis skirt that shows off her perfect legs. You are getting hard just looking at her.<br/>
<br/>
For twenty minutes you've been on the receiving end of some heavy exposition. To everyone’s surprise – including yours – Abi confessed that she put the masks and book in your locker. They had returned to her possession just this morning – part of some innocent mix-up related to the weekend's room sweeps – and after Chris had told her Mark wasn’t a suspect, she had converted your footlocker into a temporary, improvised hiding place for them.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is she telling the truth? </i>You remind yourself to ask her later.<br/>
<br/>
Then they went over the masks in detail with you, too – at least, with their limited understanding of them. They even offered to let you put on the mask they took off Jacob as a convincer. You declined, and accepted their word.<br/>
<br/>
"So," Vee concludes. "I think I know who Shelly is hiding as – it's not that hard to guess – and we've already made plans for her. We don’t know where Prescott, the real one, is. Today, in chemistry, I thought he was you, because you were acting all weird."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you," you reply, "it was because I had Chris's bondage gear in my bag. What I thought was his bondage gear."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so you said. That's funny." But Vee still looks as though she's only half-convinced by your story.<br/>
<br/>
"But it doesn't really matter where Prescott is," she continues. "If he’s run off home, great. If not, let him keep the masks he stole from us. Maybe he can steal himself a better life. Maybe he'll come clean, and try making a deal with us." She peers at you speculatively, in a way you don't like. "Not our concern, as long as we've got and keep the book. Tonight we start making more masks. Er, right, Abi?" she says, catching herself with a startled glance at her friend.<br/>
<br/>
"Right," Abi agrees. "We’ll meet back here in an hour, after practice. Todd, Chris, you bring back the stuff we need. Vee and I will show Mark here a little more of the book."<br/>
<br/>
She waits until the boys have gone, then saunters over and pats you on the shoulder. <br/>
<br/>
"Mark’s Latin is about as good as yours, isn’t it, Vee?" she asks. She drops you a slow wink. "You two should make quick work of the next spell."<br/>
<br/>
"The Latin’s atrocious," Vee replies. She gestures you to join her at the table where she was working the other night. "Half of it is garbled pseudo-mystic bullshit."<br/>
<br/>
She's concentrating on you, so she doesn't notice as Abi, behind her, stoops to dig inside her tennis bag. Nor does she see it when Abi pulls out an object, the size of a salad plate, that glows with an eerie blue light. As Vee continues to grouse about the bad Latin, Abi steps up behind her.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Vee," Abi says. The raven-haired girl turns, and Abi slams the mask straight into her face. Abi giggles as her former friend collapses to the floor like a rag doll. "Go to hell, you treasonous bitch."<br/>
<br/>
You stagger back in shock, not because of Abi's attack on her friend—who didn't see that plot twist coming?—but because: "Where the fuck did you get a mask from?"<br/>
<br/>
Abi rolls her eyes. "It's the mask I took with me when I came back to here to get Kristen. Turns out I didn't need it, not when I could just pretend to be Kristen, pretending to be me." She smirks. "I’ve been holding onto it since then, waiting until we got the book back."<br/>
<br/>
She kicks at Vee. "So one of us gets to be Vee Macklin. Do you want the honors, such as they are?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink. "I have to pretend to be Mark," you point out.<br/>
<br/>
"I can pretend to be Mark."<br/>
<br/>
"Then who pretends to be you?"<br/>
<br/>
"We've got an extra mask of me. The one you found Chris playing with. He gave it back to me. Can't we put it on Vee here?"<br/>
<br/>
You try to picture what Vee is proposing, and find that it's like trying to keep track of a half-dozen bouncing ping-pong balls, all at once.<br/>
<br/>
The mask she got from Chris has that golem paste in it, so yes, that could go onto Vee. You could give Mark's mask to Abi. Except, if it works on her the way the masks worked on Shelly, it would take her hours or even a whole night to start getting the memories. As for the mask she's making of Vee ...<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck. No, Jesus, Abi!" You shake your head. "Think! The mask you just put on her, it doesn't have a mind strip inside it, it won't copy her memories. We might look like Vee, but we won't be able to act like her!"<br/>
<br/>
Abi freezes.<br/>
<br/>
"Never speak to me like that again," she says in a cold, quiet voice. A steely cast comes into her eyes, and she shows you her canines. "Am I clear? You <i>never</i> speak to me like that."<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you think she’s going to hit you.<br/>
<br/>
But then, with a quick blink of the eyes, that air of menace vanishes, and with a glinting smile she reaches up to stroke your cheek.<br/>
<br/>
"Just relax, okay, Will?" she says. "I'm on top of things. You’ll only have to fake being her for a few hours, until you’ve made a new mind band. Then no one will be able to tell the difference."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd be better at faking her," you point out. "She's your friend."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't read Latin, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"We could just go off, you and me, to work on the book."<br/>
<br/>
"In that case, why can't you be Vee?"<br/>
<br/>
She's right, you realize. If it's just the two of you together, until dorm check and lights out, it won't matter which of you wears which mask. And in the morning, after Abi has slept inside Mark's mask, and you've made a mind band and can copy Vee, you will both be able to perfectly imitate your impersonations.</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211111212131211112232112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Fifth Column
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You temporize. "Do you have that mask here?" you ask Abi. "The one we're going to put on Vee?"<br/>
<br/>
Her face falls. "No. It's back in my room."<br/>
<br/>
"Better go get it, then. She'll be waking up in, like, fifteen minutes."<br/>
<br/>
Abi leaps for the ladder. "Be back in five," she promises, and leaves you alone with your thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
You pace the Catacombs, casting sidelong glances at Vee. You don't like the idea of putting on that narrow, sorceress's face, but you see the upsides. Vee is bold, cunning, unscrupulous, and smart. You could use that kind of intellect on your side. Also, it would be less scary to <i>be</i> Vee than to hang around her, even if it's really Abi inside the Vee mask. And surely it would be safer for you. As "Mark" you are the new kid in the group, and there was no missing the black looks that Todd was giving you, and Chris wouldn't even look at you.<br/>
<br/>
But you decide there are too many countervailing risks. You have mastered Mark's persona; Abi can fake her way through as Vee. If you switched, you would both be vulnerable until the morning. If you got caught out by Chris and Todd, it would be almost impossible to explain why "Mark" and Abi struck at Vee.<br/>
<br/>
The mask has just appeared on Vee's face when Abi drops back down into the Catacombs, puffing lightly from her run. She's brought not only the mask you made of her, but also the sealant that she brought to the school when she re-infiltrated it. <i>Mask. Sealant. What else did she bring out?</i> you find yourself wondering. <i>There was something else, wasn't there?</i><br/>
<br/>
Abi argues with you as you finish making up Vee's mask. Not until you drop your final argument on her—<i>what happens if you return to your room as "Mark" and Chris wants to talk?</i>—does she relent.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know why you want stick it out as Mark," she says as she gives you the hairy eye. "There's nothing special about him."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Then I guess I'm less than special myself,</i> you want to retort, <i>as he's the improved model of what I was.</i> Instead, you reply, "It's not about wanting to <i>be</i> him. We are, uh, going to trade up after we start making masks. Right? It's just about what's right for tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"If you insist," she sighs. "So come on, let's get this show on the road." She turns toward Vee.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She makes you take a long walk down deeper into the Catacombs while she completes the changeover, and it seems politic to not remind her that you wore her body for awhile and so she's got nothing to be shy about. So you pace the length of a low-ceilinged tunnel that drops away to the north, until you come to a low, narrow opening out onto the river. So it's a storm drain, you realize. You muddy your shoes by clambering out onto a wet, weedy shore to look out. The school's boathouse is nearby; off to your left rise the eaves of the nearby woods. It's a chilly, peaceful evening, and you pull your sports coat more tightly about yourself as you count off the moments before you can return to Abi.<br/>
<br/>
You've just set off again when you see an elfin figure picking her way down the storm drain toward you. It's Abi. Her hair is disordered, and she jumps when she looks up to find you looming ahead of her. Her eyes go wide, and her lips part. "Boss?" she squeaks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Boss?</i> Then it hits you. This is the fake—the golem formed by the mask of Abi and the insensate body of Davina Macklin.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, hey," you tell her. "How are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm a little freaked out," she says, rubbing her arm. "There's this girl back there? Looks like me? I think she's—" She swallows. "The real me? She told me to come find you, said you'd come this way."<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "How'd you recognize me?" Mark looks like you, but not enough that you think someone would spot you for being yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," she says. "Just a feeling." She peers at you. "You look like Mark Pederson."<br/>
<br/>
"That's who I'm supposed to be. And yeah, that's the real Abi. Um, what's the last thing you remember?"<br/>
<br/>
She pales. "I was going off to meet up with Vee and Kristin, and someone jumped out at me. Grabbed me." She pauses. "Vee and Kristen were supposed to be bringing me back that book I— That we were using."<br/>
<br/>
You pinch the bridge of your nose. A lot has happened since then, and this version of Abi is seriously out of date. You take her by the arm—she doesn't seem to mind—and do your best to explain everything on your way back into the Catacombs. She complains of having a headache by the time you get back.<br/>
<br/>
"There you are!" Vee Macklin jumps when you emerge, and she shoves her cell phone into a skirt pocket. "Did you explain everything to, uh, 'me' there?"<br/>
<br/>
"As best I could. She's going to be a little confused."<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell her to follow my lead. It's probably for the best," she adds, almost in an undertone. "She's supposed to be Kristen, pretending to be me, and it'll be more realistic that way if she acts like a retard. Abi," she says, addressing her replacement in a curt tone. "Go back to your room. Skip dinner. Work on the classwork I left out on the bed."<br/>
<br/>
The Abi-golem gives you a sidelong look. You nod. With a heavy sigh, she trudges over to the ladder, and ascends. Vee ogles her as she goes up. "Wow," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"What now?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. Let's go through the book. Remind me of what all the spells are, what all they do, and how to do them. After that, we'll get the stuff from the boys, and start to work." She gives you an appraising look, and reaches around to rub your ass. <br/>
<br/>
"After we get Todd and Chris out of the way," she says, "then we'll look around and <i>really</i> start having some fun."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's dinnertime before Todd and Chris return from a raiding expedition into the chemistry labs, bringing back some of the supplies you need. By that time you and Vee have compiled a complete list of what you'll need for every spell and you send them back out again to bring you what they can. (But graveyard dirt, a necessary component for the golem paste, will be impossible to procure while exeats are suspended.) They also bring you back a makeshift "takeout" meal to tide you over. Supposedly acting under Vee's prompts, you cast five masks and five mind bands, and a bowl of glue and a bowl of sealant, before the watchful audience of Baldwin and Fiore. The masks you give to Todd to take off to polish using a floor buffer he as a prefect can get out of a janitorial closet. Chris lingers to watch as, still under Vee's supposed direction, you start to carve runes into one of the mind bands.<br/>
<br/>
"Have you figured out that enslaving spell yet?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You look up at Vee. She hesitates.<br/>
<br/>
"No," she stammers. "Not yet. With, uh, Prescott disarmed, we don't have to rush through things. We're taking things slow. Mark and I will figure it out when we get to it."<br/>
<br/>
Now Chris hesitates, and it looks like he's going to speak. But with a long, backward glance under a furrowed brow, he moves to the ladder and slowly ascends.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think he suspects something?" you ask Vee when he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," she says. "But I better go talk to him, just in case." She scampers up after him, leaving you alone. <br/>
<br/>
It's funny, you think, that Chris wanted to know about the enslaving spell. Unless, of course, it's just that he was thinking forward to when it would be time to start making switches. As you were working, he and Todd were openly discussing who would or should be replaced, with the consensus that the other prefects—Dalton Reeves, Kate Gross, Marius Hall, and Lucas Tanner—were prime candidates for the first round.<br/>
<br/>
But one thought will follow on another, and Fiore's reference to an "enslaving" spell reminds you of what you were trying to come up with earlier. <i>Golem paste.</i> That was what Abi brought out to the school with her. She must still have some of it around, like she had that one mask plus the sealant. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Instead of returning, Vee texts you a little later to say that she's gone back to the school and that you should go back in as well—you can finish up work on the mind band in your room with Chris, whose suspicions (she tells you) have been assuaged. But she does ask you to bring her the book.<br/>
<br/>
You're reluctant to comply—you'd rather hang onto it yourself—but you've no excuse for refusing. So you go find her after you finish the first mind band. "Thanks, Will," she says when you meet her at her room. She kisses the tips of her fingers and touches them to your cheek before shutting the door.<br/>
<br/>
And as long as you're in the girls' wing, you knock on "Abi's" door. She lets you in, and after a short search you find the tub of golem paste that Abi had brought into school with her.<br/>
<br/>
You bump into Todd on your way back to your room. He gives you a dark look when you ask how he's coming on the masks, and tells you he's on his way to deliver the first three of Abi.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll take them," you tell him. "I've got those brain-copying things, and they need to be glued into the masks anyway."<br/>
<br/>
Todd frowns, then swings his pack off his shoulder and pulls out three masks to give to you.<br/>
<br/>
Only after he's gone does it occur to you that you now have the makings of a full disguise: mask, mind band, and golem paste.<br/>
<br/>
And you've got a roommate—Chris Fiore—slated for replacement anyway.</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222111112121312111122321121
author_id: masktrixie
title: The Winners
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It’s time to replace Chris. You’re equal partners in this with Abi, and you don’t need her permission to do what the two of you are planning to do anyway.<br/>
<br/>
"First batch from Todd," you tell Chris as you drop the three masks with a clatter onto your desk. He looks up from his sketchbook. "This is crazy, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Absolutely," he agrees, and lays the sketchbook aside. He is pale as he stares at the masks.<br/>
<br/>
"It’s the color that creeps me out," he says after a lengthy pause, during which you double-check that the mind band you were working on earlier is finished and ready for use. "They're white when you make them, but then they turn blue when you polish them. It's like you can see them turning magical." He chews his lip. "You know that mask you found under my pillow? When I saw you with it, it freaked me out so hard I almost puked."<br/>
<br/>
"What was it like for you, first time you found out about this stuff?" You brush some glue into a mask, and press the mind band into it.<br/>
<br/>
"Horrible!" Chris laughs hollowly. "Prescott was disguised as Abi. Vee and Kristen had just got back from town, and they told me and Todd this crazy story about magic disguises and doppelgangers. But we went along with it. So Todd grabbed Prescott — Abi," he corrects himself, "and Vee pulled her face off. And suddenly she was this guy! Fuck." He rubs his eyes. "And to think I tongued him that morning! Pervert deserves the worst," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
You ignore the curse. Vee and Kristen had just come back from town. Is that what Chris just said? How the hell does he know that Kristen was masquerading as Abi? That was supposed to be her and Vee's secret. "I thought Kristen stayed in town," you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. <br/>
<br/>
Chris hesitates. “I don’t know," he says. "I guess she did. You don't know how confusing this shell game can get. I can barely keep track.”<br/>
<br/>
His answer only raises more questions. Keep track of what? Isn't everybody supposed to be who they seem to be? "I know what you mean," you say aloud. "Good thing we won’t have to worry about it soon."<br/>
<br/>
Chris snickers, but there's a quaver in his laugh. "Except it's going to get worse, you know. We're all gonna be different people, whoever we want to be. I was thinking of asking to be Marius. That’d be sweet."<br/>
<br/>
"I think the answer to that question would have to be no." You lean over and slam the mask into his face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You lock the door, and with a racing heart wait for the mask to copy Chris. When it comes out of him, you quickly lacquer it with golem paste, then set it back onto his face. It vanishes into him, and he opens his eyes. They are filled with surprise and horror, but you are quick to explain to him that he now has to do everything you tell him. With glum resignation, he nods.<br/>
<br/>
Then, under your patient questioning, Chris Fiore 2.0 explains everything to you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
When he finishes, you hurry to the girls' wing, and knock on Abi’s door. There’s a hasty flurry of sound on the other side before it opens a crack. Abi is wearing only her night dress, with a sweater pulled on over the top, and her usually immaculate brown locks are disordered and streaked with sweat. But she opens the door wide and steps back when she sees it's you.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Boss," she says, a dopey smile smearing her face. Her pupils are dilated. "I just got this weird text from your ginger girlfriend, and she—"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind that." You push her into the room and close the door behind you. "We’ve got a problem. And… fuck, are you high?"<br/>
<br/>
"I’m a fucking angel," she sighs. "I’m heavenly. I am seraphim." She plucks her cell up off her desk. "But!" she tries to place a finger on your lips, and ends up just swatting you. "Shush! Shuuuush. Shush. Shelly, she—"<br/>
<br/>
"I know," you say, slapping her hand away. "She bombards everyone with emojis and Harry Potter gifs."<br/>
<br/>
"No, no, no." She drapes herself across you. "Ooh, this is nice. Hmm." She reaches down to touch your groin. "This wasn’t emojis, it was—"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind!" You thrust her hands away. "We’ve got to move now. Abi’s going to fuck me over. She’s been planning it from the start."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, of course she has." Abi falls back onto her bed with a dreamy smile. "If I were me, if you weren’t the Boss, I’d tug on your heart strings – or tug on your cock, whichever works best – and get you to do exactly what I want. Then, when you’re no use to me, I’d kick you to the curb. <i>His be the labor and yours be the spoil</i>."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" The cadence of the last phrase sounds eerily familiar.<br/>
<br/>
She splays her legs and stretches her thigh muscles. "My favorite poem. It’s called ‘The Winners’. Rudyard Kipling. '<i>His be the labor and yours be the spoil/ Win by aid and the aid disown/ He travels the fastest who travels alone</i>.'"<br/>
<br/>
Fuck. Abi told you she was betraying you two days ago, and figured – rightly – you were too dumb to get the reference. She’s been mocking you the whole time!<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck poetry," you spit, annoyed by your own blind stupidity. "I just turned Chris into a golem, and he spilled her whole plan. Abi didn’t find Kristen on Saturday. She found <i>Chris</i>, and he's the one that tricked Kristen out of his girlfriend's mask. He’s been working with her the whole time! He's been helping her look for the <i>Libra</i>, looking for the masks, helping her think about who she and him are gonna turn themselves into after getting rid of me and the others." You punch yourself in the temples with your fists. "The only thing she didn't tell him was that she brought me back with her, put me in for Mark." It's the only consolation you have: She was playing a double game against both of you.<br/>
<br/>
"So what’s the plan?" Abi lolls on her bed.<br/>
<br/>
You glower at her.<br/>
<br/>
"Put the pills away and sober up. Set your cell on vibrate, and wait for my text. We're going to take the others down — tonight!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Just past midnight you return to Abi's room, where you remove her mask long enough to press a freshly made mind band into the forehead of the unconscious Vee Macklin. Then, after replacing the mask, you pull Abi out into the dark hall, and bid her knock softly on Vee Macklin’s door. Behind her stand you and Chris Fiore. The moment the door opens, the three of you rush in.<br/>
<br/>
No one has to tell the girl in the Vee Macklin mask what you have planned. She kicks and yells before you muffle her, and Chris holds her from behind as you pull at her face. There are noises from the other side of her wall, and you send Abigail Steiner, prefect, out into the hall to keep off any snoopers.<br/>
<br/>
A few minutes later, having added Vee Macklin's mind band and some golem paste to it, you return Vee's mask to Abigail Steiner's face. The resurrected Vee sits up with a scowl. "The fuck?" she murmurs, but her voice dies in her throat as you step up to her.<br/>
<br/>
Of course she's confused. She now has Vee's memories, the last of which is of talking to you in the Catacombs. She also senses that you are in every sense of the word her master. But you ignore her confusion and obvious discomfort, and step up to seize her by the bony chin and tilt her head from side to side, studying it.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?" she mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Trying to see what I was so afraid of," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
She’s now yours to do with as you wish – both the brain and body of the girl who masterminded your capture, who tied you up and starved and sickened you. At the same time, she is also the girl who falsely promised to help you, and who was laughing behind your back the whole time.<br/>
<br/>
But both are now powerless. Both are now your playthings.<br/>
<br/>
You shove her backward onto her bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Tuesday afternoon. The free hour just before dinner.<br/>
<br/>
You and your four lieutenants stand in a loose circle in the Catacombs, all still in your gear from the day's compulsory sports programs. Abi, looking sexy and serene in her tennis togs. Vee looking resentful in her soccer uniform. Chris, also in a soccer uniform, looks resigned. And Todd Baldwin — the last of your recruits, caught in his room just before dawn began to creep over the horizon — sullenly hunches inside his football gear.<br/>
<br/>
You worked all night on the mind bands you needed to copy and control them, and stumbled like a zombie through the ensuing day, so you ordered your new golems go about their ordinary routines as though they were themselves.<br/>
<br/>
But now, at the end of the day — at the end of the adventure — it's time to lay plans.<br/>
<br/>
Your intention had been to retrieve the Libra and get out of St. Xavier’s. You could still do that. You could exit the school and leave these golems behind. Or, after making a careful move from Mark Pederson into a hiding place back in town, you could release your slaves and leave them with the admonition not to come looking for you.<br/>
<br/>
But isn't the St Francis Xavier School a perfect base of operations? You control two prefects, possess the <i>Libra</i>, and have access to plenty of supplies—not to mention the money to acquire whatever supplies you can't steal out of the school. There is nothing to stop you from resuming your research into the book, amid plenty of plump, inviting targets for further replacement and exploitation.</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222112
author_id: masktrixie
title: The Girl Next Door
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You accompany the Shelly golem to its house, out on the southern extremes of Acheson, after school. Every moment with the golem is a painful, horrific reminder of the real Shelly’s plight, but you can’t lose focus. You have to get the masks back – then maybe you can fix what happened. Shelly (you don’t know what else to call it) starts gossiping, and takes up all of your willpower just to let it play its role once briefed on the plan. <br/>
<br/>
The shop’s door is repaired and a new lock installed, and you kill 10 minutes with Mrs Nolan on her porch, who talks about getting security lights and maybe app-based CCTV at the weekend. For your part, you tell her that you moved the body sculpt in anticipation of using it this coming Friday, and thank her for letting you work in her garage.<br/>
<br/>
It’s while you’re sitting outside that a car pulls up to the neatly painted house with barnstar next door, and a girl about your age gets out. She has blonde hair in a pixie crop and is wearing the green and gold of Xavier’s. This must be Niamh Stirland. She waves to someone as the car makes a three-point turn and drives off.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh! I need to show Niamh something,” Shelly says, bouncing up off the porch railing. “I’ll be back in a sec!” It runs off, and Mrs Nolan laughs. <br/>
<br/>
“Thank you, Will,” she says.<br/>
<br/>
“For what?” Please don’t say something kind, Mrs Nolan. It’s my fault what happened to your daughter.<br/>
<br/>
“For being her friend. I don’t think I’ve seen her this happy since we went to Universal Studios a few years back. Oh, and if you both want a ride to whatever party is going on come Friday, just let me know, it’s no trouble.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks. Who’s Niamh?” you ask, already knowing the answer but keen to get another view.<br/>
<br/>
“Our next door neighbor. You should ask Shelly to introduce you, I suspect you’d get on great.” Then, with a conspiratorial, match-making smile, she leans close. “Talk to her about video games.”<br/>
<br/>
Mrs Nolan goes back inside, leaving you sitting with your thoughts as you watch your golem lead Niamh Stirland to her doom. Half a minute later, Shelly sticks its head out of the shop side door and waves at you. You get up, walk down the lane, and approach your new life. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“Mam, what’s for dinner?” you ask, pretty much as soon as you open the front door. The switch was seamless; you into Niamh, while she is now under a mask of Will Prescott. You gave the golem virtually the same instructions as Shelly, trusting you can leave it on autopilot for a few days. It certainly looked and acted like you.<br/>
<br/>
“Pork stir fry,” your third mom in a week says. “I thought I heard Mariah’s car a full quarter of an hour ago.”<br/>
<br/>
Mariah… the thoughts pop easily into your head from Niamh’s relaxed, cosy mind. Mariah Alloway, your best friend and ride for the 12 or so miles out to the St Francis Xavier School. You’re a history and sciences student, while Mariah is a self-proclaimed math nerd. Both of you thrive in a school environment where personal responsibility is emphasized and class sizes are kept small and focused.<br/>
<br/>
“Shelly wanted to show me something she’s been working on,” you reply, “you know how excited she gets about pretty much everything.” A smile breaks out instinctively; Niamh thinks of Shelly like a second sister, which means you like Niamh Stirland immensely. <br/>
<br/>
“Do I ever, that girl is a jackrabbit. Dinner in fifteen,” your mom – mam – says. You take off your school blazer and set it on a waiting hanger in the hall, then hook your satchel, complete with Libra, over your shoulder and head upstairs. Niamh doesn’t have any assignments due, mainly because she spent Sunday after church writing up a lengthy analysis of the impact of the House of Vasa on European history (Saturday afternoon was spent with sister Tina, who had to return to university). That gives you time to check out the next spell. You step into her room, an airy space kept neat and ordered, with a wall dedicated to… Wow! Of course, Niamh is one of Shelly’s main influences in life, so she must have some common interests. And while there’s no sign of the occult or boy wizards, as Mrs Nolan hinted there is an entire wall dedicated to gaming. <br/>
<br/>
Niamh Stirland, her mind tells you, is a console freak. You walk over to a set of wooden shelves, looking at the neatly arranged collection of everything from the Super NES to the latest generation, all above an extensive library of games that stretches along the entire foot of the wall. There are classics to the latest smash hit, all waiting to be hooked up to a projector and a blank wall space amid posters of Niamh’s personal faves. You haven’t played half of them, and you wish Keith and Caleb were here to share your discovery. Then, with growing excitement, you realize there’s no reason they can’t be. <br/>
<br/>
Niamh Stirland isn’t just your gateway into Xavier’s and a way of checking on Shelly; she, you, could be ‘Will Prescott’s’ ‘girlfriend’. She’s not dating anyone at the moment, and although she wears a purity ring – a little band of silver that was tricky to pull off her finger as you made the switch – as long as any boy is willing to wait until after marriage she’d be happy to have a relationship. If you can get over the extreme awkwardness of dating your double you could slip straight back into your old life. Tomorrow, after you get the masks back, you’re going to take ‘Will’ out for donuts and sell Keith on the idea.<br/>
<br/>
All of that comes later. First, you need to survive a day at school. You start thinking about Niamh’s classes, trying to gauge whether the tuition fees really buy you a better time than at Westside. St Francis Xavier’s, Niamh believes, is what you make of it. Other than its weird fixation on sports – participation in at least one inter-school competition a semester is compulsory – she loves it. The facilities are better than any school in Saratoga Falls, the list of possible programs and after-school activities is extensive, and its teachers (the X-Men; yes, everyone knows the joke) want you to excel.<br/>
<br/>
As one of the STEM crowd, Niamh gets to avoid the worst elements of the school entirely, and has never had a problem following the rules. The only real issue she’s ever had comes in the shape of Todd Baldwin, who pretends he’s as clean-cut as someone like head boy Marius Hall but is widely known, at least by the sixth form, to be a monumental ass. Somehow he was made a prefect at the end of the last school year (why can’t they see through him?) and he shares Niamh’s European History class. You wonder if it’s the Todd you heard Abi talk about. Niamh can’t think of who else it could be, but her thoughts flash up a warning.<br/>
<br/>
Abigail Steiner and Davina Macklin. Avoid them. If you see them, go the other way. If they talk to you, refuse whatever they ask, no matter how good the cause seems to be. And whatever you do, don’t look into Steiner’s eyes or she’ll hypnotize you. The girl with them was Kristen Wright-Wallace. She’s OK, but completely under Abi’s spell.<br/>
<br/>
You shove the thought to one side and decide to get to work before your mam calls you downstairs. You open up the Libra, flicking forward to the next page. With any luck, the next spell should have something to reverse what happened to Shelly. <br/>
<br/>
But the eighth spell is only partly there. Someone has ripped the rest of it from the book. <br/>
<br/>
You have no way to move any further. There is no spell that can rescue Shelly. You’re not going to quit – you’re certain with enough time you can figure out how the sigils relate to each other on their own. So far, the book has always built on the previous spell, so if you can figure out how it all comes together, you should be able to work out the eighth spell. But the setback bites hard. Any excitement you feel about being Niamh Stirland is snuffed like a candle. <br/>
<br/>
You eat your dinner in morose silence.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221121
author_id: masktrixie
title: The Belles of St Xavier's
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You rise just before 6.30am, stretching any tiredness in your muscles out of your limbs. Then it’s downstairs for a slice of toast, dressed in your green and gold uniform, before making your way to Mariah Alloway’s car, waiting outside. You hop into the passenger seat and cruise through Saratoga Falls, then up onto the I-62, for the half-hour drive to The St Francis Xavier School. <br/>
<br/>
“Plans for tonight?” Mariah asks, prodding her glasses onto her nose and shuffling in her seat as she tries to stop the sun glare from the rear-view mirror. So far most of the trip has been listening to an EP from one of the local bands, and you’re almost at the Lattyville turn up to the ’44.<br/>
<br/>
“Kind of,” you say coyly. Usually Niamh spends the first half of her evening on assignments and the second half on the latest RPG. <br/>
<br/>
“Kind of? Spill.” <br/>
<br/>
You watch as Mariah weaves her way past a big rig. “I met a guy. His name’s Will, and we got talking, and we were thinking of going to get donuts.” <br/>
<br/>
“Oh, must be serious if it involves confectionary. Since when do you like donuts? Why haven’t I ever been invited for donuts with you? Or any type of cake-based activity, for that matter? I’m telling you here and now, I don’t care what we do as long as it has cake, cats, or, ideally, cake<i> and</i> cats. What I’m saying is… why doesn’t Saratoga Falls have a cat café?” <br/>
<br/>
You both laugh as Mariah pulls off the interstate and onto the ‘44. <br/>
<br/>
“Fine, if you’re going to crush my feline donut dreams, at least tell me about Will.”<br/>
<br/>
How do you describe yourself? Niamh’s brain isn’t much help given she’s never met you. “He’s… I don’t know. He’s Will.”<br/>
<br/>
“Insightful. Wouldn’t recommend submitting it in the essay competition, but insightful. He going to be OK with your trip?”<br/>
<br/>
“Trip?” You flick through your mind, trying to recall the right memory.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh, you’re going to England in what, two or three weeks?”<br/>
<br/>
“Only for a few days.” Although it’s term time, the school is sponsoring a trip for a few students to the University of Cambridge as part of an international schools learning initiative. Niamh is keen on a Fullbright anyway, and St. Francis Xavier’s has school ties with a corporate sponsor linked to one of the colleges (and Keyserling). Your own mind is stunned. There’s no way Westside would ever do something similar.<br/>
<br/>
“Only for a few days. Right. You get to see Big Ben and get school credit for it. Meanwhile, I get to work on integral calculus.”<br/>
<br/>
“Am I supposed to pretend you don’t want to do integral calculus? I have literally seen you work on math problems for fun. Never mind what you’re supposed to be doing, just hackin’ away at a math problem.”<br/>
<br/>
“She makes a fair point,” Mariah concedes. You both laugh again. <br/>
<br/>
The sign for the school comes up a few miles later, and then you’re turning through the stone gatehouse. You don’t know what to expect, but as you drive past a wide stretch of manicured lawn and the school comes into view, your jaw drops. It looks like a movie set. Down a hill, a large country house looms, its slate grey walls draped in ivy, huge bow windows pushing out and topped with widow’s walks and faux battlements. To the west, the school buildings cluster in a quad past the chapel, with the red brick STEM building set slightly away, by the car park. Behind the house, you know, are the Stables – the study hall – an immaculate lawn, an amphitheater and a view straight down to the Mohegan river. You continue to drive past the Backwoods that hug the west side of the property.<br/>
<br/>
“You OK?” Mariah asks as she slows for the speed bumps, then pulls up next to some asshole parked at almost a 45-degree angle, their front windows rolled all the way down.<br/>
<br/>
“The view. Just doesn’t get old.” You’re a little awed by the place.<br/>
<br/>
“No, I guess it doesn’t. C’mon, we’ll be late for chapel. I’ve got some study to do after swimming, so I’ll be heading back home about 6pm. I can drop you at this donut shop if you want.”<br/>
<br/>
“You mean ‘I can drop you at this donut shop <i>so I can get a look at Will</i>’.”<br/>
<br/>
Mariah grins. “Well, obviously. Which one is it? Party Town? Because you know they suck, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’s Donuts, over on 20th.”<br/>
<br/>
“Less sucky. Let’s hope the I-62 across town is clear or it’s gonna be a full hour to get there, though. See you at 6pm?”<br/>
<br/>
You smile and nod. That gives you plenty of time to get your property back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You spent most of third period trying to work out an approach to Todd Baldwin. All you know is Niamh can’t stand him, although he seems perfectly pleasant. You’re doing the Thirty Years’ War, and your eyes glaze over a little at the battles, machinations and flowery names of European royalty. Apparently Sweden was a world power even before IKEA. Who knew?<br/>
<br/>
“Something to contribute, Miss Stirland?” Mr Hunt asks. Unlike Westside, where you have at least some anonymity, you’re in a class of eight and there is no place to hide. Will Prescott would panic, but fortunately you are someone else.<br/>
<br/>
“I was thinking about including the impact of Ottoman expansion on the stability of the Catholic League.” You have no idea what you’re talking about, but Niamh does.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not relevant to this paper, but a good idea for the end of term essay. Now…” <br/>
<br/>
You go back to mulling over Todd Baldwin. You need to think of a reason for Niamh Stirland to approach him. Of course, with the masks you don’t have to be Niamh, but you’ve enjoyed the half-day you’ve spent as her so far. Then, just as the bell rings and the class breaks up, you find Todd Baldwin coming to you.<br/>
<br/>
“Can I speak with you a sec, or do you need to rush off?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve got a sec,” you say, packing up your things and looking at him warily. <i>Baldwin isn’t as bad as Steiner – he’s nowhere near as subtle – but he will want something.</i><br/>
<br/>
“The essay for next week. So, thing is, I’m really struggling with it and was looking to partner with someone. I’ve already checked with Hunt and he’d accept a group submission. You know I work hard, and you’re really on top of this period in history.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know my Pappenheims,” you reply, confident Todd isn’t aware of the idiom. <i>Pappenheim was a general in the conflict… and the phrase means someone who’s totally predictable. </i><br/>
<br/>
“Exactly. I’ve tried asking Mathilde, but she just decided to write about her family’s involvement, no room for me. So, I was wondering if you fancy being my study buddy?”<br/>
<br/>
Obviously Mathilde Ambard wanted to write about her family. She’s a genuine French blue blood, the kind who’d have eaten cake all the way to the guillotine 250 years ago. In the third form you had been tasked with tracing your family’s ancestry. When it as time for her to present, Mathilde walked up to the front of class and produced a slide of royal records indicating three direct ancestors had died at the Battle of Agincourt. With a Gallic shrug, she’d turned to Mrs Ronson and asked if that was far back enough, or if she wanted to see which one went on the Second Crusade?<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve already written about the House of Vasa,” you say. “I don’t need any extra material.” <br/>
<br/>
“Well, maybe I could do some image searches. A picture paints a thousand words! So, if I pull out say, four pictures, then I think I’m more than pulling my weight, right?”<br/>
<br/>
Unbelievable. He’s trying to get away with making you write his homework in exchange for 30 seconds on Google. Niamh’s instinct is to tell him to go to hell. But, of course, you’re not really Niamh Stirland. You need the masks from Todd, and this is a perfect excuse.<br/>
<br/>
“I have a better idea,” you say. “How about you meet me in the library at 5pm. I’ll bring the paper, and you can fact-check it. That’s always the worst part of writing an essay, and it’s a fairer division of labor.”<br/>
<br/>
Todd smiles. It’s still a shortcut, and Niamh is on course for an A; let him think he’s won a victory. “It’s a study date. Thanks, Niamh, I know you’ll have done an incredible essay. Making sure it’s as polished as possible will be an honor.”<br/>
<br/>
He walks away, and you tap your fingernail on your books. It’s lunch next, then you have a free period. It’s the perfect opportunity to create a mind band so you can find out exactly where your masks are. But Todd doesn’t seem too difficult to handle; maybe you don’t even need to bother with magic. And perhaps it’s better to not risk someone at Xavier’s discovering the <i>Libra</i>. </span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211211
author_id: masktrixie
title: Manic Pixie Dreamcast Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Hey! I’m the one supposed to be doing math problems!” <br/>
<br/>
You look up from your study desk in one of the small, booth-like private rooms of the Stables, surprised you didn’t hear someone come in through the door behind you. You’ve been focusing on getting the fiddly runes right on a mind band hastily prepared from the chemistry lab. You turn around to see Mariah Alloway standing there, and quickly cover up the Libra. <br/>
<br/>
“Don’t you ever knock?” you ask, breaking character out of frustration and hoping you didn’t accidentally scratch a wrong line on the band. Mariah is taken aback a little. <br/>
<br/>
“Sorry, I didn’t know I was disturbing you. What’s the book? Libra Per… new game?”<br/>
<br/>
“Old game,” you say, realizing there’s no way to conceal what you’ve been reading. “From when a manual wasn’t just a slip inside a case, but actually part of the experience. I mean, look at this thing, it’s a work of art.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a work of something,” Mariah says. “And the little metal badge? Cosplay?”<br/>
<br/>
“Something for my next door neighbor,” you confirm. <br/>
<br/>
“Cool. Who wrote the game? Because whoever did it is into some serious math. Doesn’t surprise me, computer game dorks and math geeks are mostly a beautiful Venn diagram. But set-theoretic topology is full-on NASA level.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at Mariah blankly. “OK. Talk nerdy to me.”<br/>
<br/>
She steps forward and flicks the book back to the third spell. “This looks handwritten,” she says. “And in some kind of foreign language. You get this thing off Ebay? Ah! Here. See this symbol? It’s basically an expression of multiple topological properties, which you resolve with cardinal functions. They’ve just illustrated it and made it look all woogie and cool. Does any of that make any sense to you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not a word,” you admit. Mariah blows through her lips.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, anyway, it’s just high level geekery. Which I approve of wholeheartedly in a video game. I came to see if you wanted anything from the machine? If I don’t get some sugar and caffeine I’m going to turn up to fifth period hangry. Hangry Mariah bad.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m good,” you say. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll catch you at 6pm.” Mariah nods and salutes, leaving you to the band. You wonder if her knowledge could be useful down the line.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“Sorry I’m late,” Todd says as he arrives, “practice overran.” It didn’t, you know – you kept an eye on him while you were playing soccer – but the slight delay doesn’t matter. You’re sat in the library. It’s an impressive stretch of the west wing of the main building, although not really a library anyone uses given the Internet. It’s stacked floor-to-ceiling with books on three walls except for a massive, solid marble fireplace and five, five-foot high portraits of former schoolmasters. On the south wall, positioned to maximize light, are huge bay windows. The rest of the space is taken up by large oak wood tables and chairs. Today they’re all in use, except for the noticeably lighter table in front of the window. The Cyclops, as the students mockingly call it, gets hit by an intense beam of sunlight virtually all day, blinding and roasting any idiot who uses it.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s OK,” you say, as Niamh would, with a pinch of irritation. You slide your paper over. “Here you go, get to work.”<br/>
<br/>
Todd’s smile never wavers as he takes his seat next to you. “It’s really kind of you to let me partner up,” he blathers. “I promise we’re going to be an awesome team. So, do you have this on a laptop or…”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course I do, but I don’t want a fact-check just to be someone glancing at Wikipedia.” You lift out a gargantuan, dusty, leather-bound book you pulled out from the military history section. “That’s the fun thing about history, Todd. It doesn’t date. Get to work.”<br/>
<br/>
Todd gives you a sideways look and reaches for the book. It’s the perfect time to slap the mind band on him, and you watch as his head slams hard into the desk. With a cautious glance in either direction, you grab his collar and pull him upright, pretending to work as you wait for the band to reappear. <br/>
<br/>
By the time you meet Mariah for your ride, about 45 minutes later, you’re done with Xavier’s. Mask off, band on. Location: Master’s Lodge Woodshed. Mask on, walk to woodshed, open the box and take your three masks back. They’re now tucked and safe in Niamh’s satchel, along with the Libra. As a parting shot – a little touch of Niamh’s own feelings – you left Todd with a note telling him that if he’s going to fall asleep when you agree to help him, he can go to hell.<br/>
<br/>
It’s been a strange diversion, but Todd’s memories reveal an even stranger one. He bought the masks late on Saturday night – technically Sunday morning – while coked off his mind in one of the seedier parts of Saratoga Falls. Todd’s own brain is hazy on how much he paid, but he has plans for wild party in the Xavier Backwoods on Friday night. Concerned someone might discover the seemingly angelic students in the midst of a drug and alcohol-fuelled binge, Todd (along with, surprise, surprise, Abi Steiner and Chris Fiore) has made it a requirement that anyone attending has to wear a Halloween mask to disguise who they are. And so, when three people turned up selling Halloween masks, he’d bought all six.<br/>
<br/>
Todd didn’t recognize the sellers, but you do. It was Joe Thomason and company. You don’t know why they broke into Mrs Nolan’s garage, but it wasn’t anything to do with magic. And that means what happened to Shelly is squarely on you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You take your coffee while the golem collects a box of assorted donuts. Mariah dropped you off a minute earlier and you sauntered over to ‘Will’, waiting for you at the counter of Don’s. As she left, Mariah pointed and mouthed “HIM? HIM? REALLY?”, but she was just being a brat. <br/>
<br/>
You’ve chosen your location with care: Keith Tilley is serving, manning a selection of sticky treats and the condensation-clad tubes of a coffee machine. Keith, for his part, didn’t seem to treat you any differently than a regular customer as you gave your order, but you assume the golem has talked about you as much as you used to talk about Lisa. Who feels like a lifetime ago. Perhaps she was several.<br/>
<br/>
You look at the black marker scrawl Keith has left on the side of your cup.<br/>
<br/>
“This says Nerve.”<br/>
<br/>
“Close enough?” Keith asks.<br/>
<br/>
“N-I-A-M-H. I get it’s tough, but you can come up with something better than ‘Nerve’. It’s Irish, you can just throw in whatever consonants don’t seem to belong and hope for the best. I’ve seen it all.”<br/>
<br/>
“Niamh, this is Keith,” ‘Will’ interjects. “We’ve known each other since… I dunno man, forever?” You give a dorky wave by way of greeting. “Niamh’s a hardcore gamer. You should see her collection, dude, it’s insane.”<br/>
<br/>
“Modern or classics?”<br/>
<br/>
“Bit of everything.”<br/>
<br/>
Keith folds his arms. “Then name the top five games that came out before 2000.”<br/>
<br/>
You sip your Americano and look amused. “Really, you want to do this? You want to be that guy? OK, Mr Gatekeeper.” You set the cup down on the donut box Will is carrying. “Coming in at number five, we have GoldenEye 007. At four is the Dreamcast’s finest hour, Jet Set Radio, before we slip deep into the Kojima madness of Metal Gear Solid. To PC for, and don’t hate me for this, Civilization 2. And what could beat a game that will swallow days of your life? The all-time, number one, greatest game of all time, still undefeated, is… Final Fantasy VII.”<br/>
<br/>
Keith stares at you from across the counter. Then, quietly: “That’s a pretty good list. But Jet Set Radio came out in 2000, so…”<br/>
<br/>
You raise an eyebrow at him. Will interjects. “So far we’ve pretty much just played Mario Kart.” <br/>
<br/>
You shift your weight a little against your golem as Niamh would, then collect your coffee and take another sip. It’s a weird experience dating yourself.<br/>
<br/>
“Wait, you actually have all of these?”<br/>
<br/>
“I told you, dude,” the golem says. “Niamh’s collection is insane.”<br/>
<br/>
“Should come over some time,” you shrug, before letting your hand find Will’s so you can tug him to a booth. “Nice to meet you, Keith.”<br/>
<br/>
You sit down, staring at Will Prescott and his shy, rabbity little smile, and chat easily with your former self as you wonder what to do. You’re at peace for the first time in a week. The masks are secure. There’s no need to be Niamh anymore and there’s no reason to stay at Xavier’s.<br/>
<br/>
But Niamh is wonderful. You like her, and you like being her; what’s more, your Niamh mind actually finds the Will golem cute. If the book had never stumbled into your life, you’d never have stumbled into Niamh’s. And while the masks are secure, you still haven’t rescued Shelly – or solved the problem of the eighth spell. You aren’t willing to let go.<br/>
<br/>
And that leaves two options. You can stay as Niamh, live her life and keep an eye on both golems. Perhaps, with the help of the seventh spell, you even could switch identities between Niamh and Will as you wish: be girlfriend one day, boyfriend the next. It also puts you in prime position to use a mind band on Mariah; she seemed to understand the book’s sigils and her math-geek brain could be the secret to pushing past the eighth spell.<br/>
<br/>
The other option is riskier, but it’s also appealing. If you understand the nature of the seventh spell correctly, you’re certain Niamh will return to normal once the Will mask is removed. So, you could take off the masks and ask Niamh to join you in your games. If you can persuade her to join the coven, you’d gain an ally in your quest to solve the eighth spell and rescue Shelly.</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222112112
author_id: masktrixie
title: Explaining Yourself to Herself
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Niamh comes around on the floor of the shop, dressed back in her uniform, the Shelly golem standing over her. You’re hoping this will make a tricky conversation easier. Your donut date didn’t end until after Shelly’s curfew, so you’ve spent an entire day working out how to approach this conversation, even as you navigated Niamh’s life and a pop biology quiz.<br/>
<br/>
The delay gave you time to move back to the shop and create a new mask using the buffer; Shelly is still safe in the church, covered with a sheet. You also made a quick detour to get more graveyard earth; at least you need a smaller amount for the current spell.<br/>
<br/>
“Mmhm,” she says, blinking. At least the mask ungolemizes it’s wearer; even if she’s not as cool with things as you hope, you’ve learnt another rule of magic. “Shelly... did I slip?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not exactly,” the golem says. “It’s involved with what I wanted to show you. Please don’t freak out.”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh looks puzzled and begins to scramble up. Then she sees you – or rather herself – sat on the bench.<br/>
<br/>
“Just listen and I can explain...” you begin. But Niamh doesn’t even hesitate. She’s already on her feet, grabbing Shelly and pushing the golem behind her.<br/>
<br/>
“Shelly, stay behind me!”<br/>
<br/>
“I can explain...”<br/>
<br/>
“Stay back! Whoever, whatever, just...” contrary to Shelly’s request, Niamh Stirland is definitely freaking out.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s OK,” your golem says. “Just listen.”<br/>
<br/>
“Listen to what?” She grabs a sculpting knife from the bench and waves it at you.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not you, I’m...”<br/>
<br/>
“No shit! Pardon my language.” The second part is instinctive, but makes you laugh a little. It seems to break the tension and gives both of you time to mentally adjust to what’s going on.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s Thursday,” you say. “I had to borrow your identity for two days. You’ve been asleep, kind of. But I need your help to save Shelly.”<br/>
<br/>
“Save Shelly? She’s right behind me!”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you say with Niamh’s sincerest tone. “She isn’t. This is sort of a...” you search for the right term from Niamh’s mind, “a <i>Majora’s Mask</i> situation. That isn’t Shelly, it’s a golem. And I’m not you, I just sort-of borrowed your identity. But I promise I did it for a good reason.”<br/>
<br/>
“Am I going insane? This is a dream. This has to be a dream.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not,” the golem says. “Just listen to, uhm, yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
“Will,” you say. “I’m Will. And if you promise not to leave, I’m going to turn back into myself now.”<br/>
<br/>
You hope that Niamh will do as you expect; as your Niamh mind assures you she will. You take the mask off, and the world goes black. Then, a little disoriented, you find yourself staring up at the shop ceiling. You sit up and look around. The Shelly golem is still guarding the door, while Niamh is sat on the floor of the shop, hugging her legs.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re a… guy. A guy… who turned himself... into me,” she says slowly.<br/>
<br/>
“I had a good reason,” you say.<br/>
<br/>
“You stole my life. That much I get. You even seemed to talk like me just then. And it is Thursday, I just checked. I’ve lost two whole days. How could you act like me?”<br/>
<br/>
“I had your mind as well as your body. I knew everything you do. Memories, thoughts, feelings.”<br/>
<br/>
“You knew all my secrets.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes.” Niamh doesn’t really have any secrets. The most embarrassing thing you recall was her fondness for watching terrible Christmas movies on a loop every December.<br/>
<br/>
“And Shelly is in danger?”<br/>
<br/>
“Right.”<br/>
<br/>
She nods slowly, letting it all sink in. Then: “OK. I’m going to need a lot more exposition here. Will-who-likes-dressing-up-as-me, do you also like <i>Mario Kart</i>?”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“There’s still one bit I still don’t get,” Niamh says, casually schooling you as you play on the console in her room – not because you’re friends, but because she desperately needs a distraction to process everything. It’s a huge change from her panic earlier, but it’s only come after two hours of vigorous cross-examination. The hardest part was telling her what happened to Shelly.<br/>
<br/>
“What don’t you understand?” you ask, surprised only one piece of your story doesn’t fit together.<br/>
<br/>
“Why, exactly, am I your girlfriend all of a sudden?”<br/>
<br/>
“That seemed a good way to keep an eye on both golems. And, uh, so I could invite my friends around to play on your consoles.”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh wobbles her head. “Always knew someone would only date me to get to Sonic.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know it was a bit presumptuous.”<br/>
<br/>
“You think?” Niamh turns to face you, hitting pause. “Just a bit? A touch? Getting your clone of someone I love deeply to knock me out so you could go waltz about, literally wearing my face, hanging with my friends and dating yourself? You have serious issues.”<br/>
<br/>
You have no comeback. She continues, picking up the mind band you’ve shown her. The book and masks are scattered around the room. “And this band has Todd Baldwin’s entire brain on it? Surprised it’s not the size of a toothpick. Please tell me I’m not dating him, too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Actually, I made him think he fell asleep in a study session and left him a note telling him to go to hell. He tried to apologize to me, by which I mean you, all day.”<br/>
<br/>
“At least you got that part of me right,” Niamh says. “Could Mariah tell I wasn’t me?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think so. I do a pretty good Niamh Stirland. The only time I broke character was when I was looking at the book and she surprised me; I kind of snapped at her. But it might have been for the best. She seemed to think it was a math problem; she might be able to help understand how the book works.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mariah?” Niamh says, lips pursed in amusement. “I thought you knew what I did? She’s full of it. Once, she caught me doodling and started going on about how I was solving Fermat’s last theorem. Just ‘cause she’s a math geek it doesn’t mean she’s any good at it, or even has a clue what she’s on about. Don’t peg our hopes on her.”<br/>
<br/>
Our hopes. The very words feel so good.<br/>
<br/>
“So you’re... in?”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh scratches her short-cut hair just above her ear. <br/>
<br/>
“I am. It’s a lot to process, but I’m in. Before that, though, I want to get up to speed on what these masks can do. I never took Latin, so you’re going to have to go through all of it line by line. I want to see Shelly, too. I need to see her. Need, do you understand? But I get we can’t exactly go now, or even tomorrow with all the madness that’ll be going on in town. First chance is really Saturday afternoon. And before then, I have one requirement.”<br/>
<br/>
“Name it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I get to use a mask. I need to see what these things can do.”<br/>
<br/>
You’re a little taken aback. “Uh, sure. We’ve got masks of me, Shelly, a P.E. Teacher at my school and a fictional person we call Ruth. And you, I suppose. Who do you want to be?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh no,” Niamh says. “If I’m going to do this, I want the full pick-your-player-character experience. Tomorrow is Halloween. I want to go as someone else. And I have just the person in mind.”<br/>
<br/>
Whatever Niamh’s idea, you can go along with her – you have two masks polished and just awaiting the final touches of the seventh spell: the grave dirt and the hair.<br/>
<br/>
But while Niamh is probably thinking about Xavier’s, you remember that Joe Thomason’s gang sold the masks to Todd Baldwin in the first place. They broke in to Mrs Nolan’s shop, and you’re sure Niamh would be up for a little payback...</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221121121
author_id: masktrixie
title: Sympathy for the Devil
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The drive out to St Francis Xavier’s isn’t that long, but it seems to drag given the early hour. Niamh has messaged Mariah to say she won’t need a ride, and instead you’ve both hopped in your car and headed out at the crack of dawn. In your possession are the <i>Libra</i> and four masks: two blanks, and golemized Will and Niamh masks. <br/>
<br/>
“So, about this boyfriend, girlfriend thing,” Niamh says again as you hit the I-62. You wince.<br/>
<br/>
“I said sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“Actually, no, you didn’t. But what I was going to say is… I don’t think it’s such a bad idea.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t?”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t get me wrong. Turning one of my fave people on Earth to stone then hijacking my life isn’t my idea of a romantic overture. But, weirdly, you’re actually quite sweet.”<br/>
<br/>
You shuffle in your seat. “Thanks. I like you too. It wasn’t anything to do with the consoles, either. I liked you the moment I became you and saw how much Shelly meant to you. They say you can’t walk in another person’s shoes, but I have, and I like what your shoes stand for.”<br/>
<br/>
You’re trying to be tender, but it comes out all wrong. “Guess we’ll have to add foot fetishist to your list of oddities,” Niamh says.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a little after 7am when you pull up at the St Francis Xavier School, parking in one of the guest bays. Niamh rushes off with two of the masks, while you get out of your car and kick around the dust outside. There’s a stiff breeze in the air, and the view from the front of the main building is nowhere near as impressive as the vista to the rear. Even so, it beats sitting in the car.<br/>
<br/>
You tap a message to the Shelly golem, briefly checking in. The answer, a torrent of witch emojis and stars, suggests she’s doing just fine. It’s about 20 minutes later when someone finally notices you loitering in the car park.<br/>
<br/>
“Excuse me, sir? Can I help you?” You turn to see the girl from the church. Abi. At least, you think it’s her; she doesn’t have the same viciousness that you witnessed, or the danger Niamh’s brain warned you about. She seems, while not timid, sweet.<br/>
<br/>
“I was, ah, just… dropping off my, uhm…” Abi waits patiently as you stumble over your words. Her eyes are like deep, warm chocolate. An endless, wonderful vortex. “My… ah, friend.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, of course! But I noticed you were still here, and I thought maybe you have car trouble. Can I help at all?”<br/>
<br/>
You only have eyes for the person in front of you. “No, I… she just wanted me to take something back for her.” <br/>
<br/>
“Do you want to wait in the main hall, Mr…?”<br/>
<br/>
What’s your name? Do you have a name? Tell her your name. “Will. And, I’m fine, thanks.”<br/>
<br/>
Abi smiles and walks forward. You feel like you’ve been blessed by a saint. You can’t break eye contact. “Will. Could you give me your magic book, please?”<br/>
<br/>
You don’t even think. You open up your bag and hand over the spellbook. Abi takes it and, suddenly, bursts out laughing.<br/>
<br/>
“I knew it! I knew she has hypno-eyes! You were totally swallowed by them!”<br/>
<br/>
“I wasn’t!” You protest. “You told me to give you the Libra, so it was obviously you, Niamh. I figured you were just playing around.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t even try it! That was the Steiner Stare! That was her hypno-eyes! I always thought she mesmerized people!”<br/>
<br/>
“There’s no such thing as hypno-eyes, Niamh.”<br/>
<br/>
“You mean like there’s no such thing as magic? Hypno. Eyes. Oh, and when do her thoughts start kicking in? I can just about remember where her room is – I’ve never actually been upstairs as it’s boarders only – but everything else is sort of cloudy. And you didn’t tell me golems were so sassy. I told mine to pretend she was me, and she just went ‘I am you, you weirdo. Don’t make me tell everyone I’m finally changing my name to N-E-V-E so they can spell it.’ Cheeky mare.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve never had that reaction. I get the memories pretty much instantly, and my golem just acts as I would. He seems to know it’s me beneath the mask, though. Speaking of which, why did you become…”<br/>
<br/>
“Abi Steiner? Because she’s the worst thing in this place, and I can give everyone a day off from her. C’mon, I’ll take you to a place we can make your switch.”<br/>
<br/>
You follow Abi around the side of the building, along a gravel track. Niamh seems to have done the switch imperfectly; she talks differently, including pace and intonation, but she walks just as she did before; it doesn’t look right on her current body. She also hasn’t quite got the hang of being someone with long hair, and is constantly patting it back. <br/>
<br/>
“In here,” she says, indicating the Stables. “It’s off limits…”<br/>
<br/>
“Until first break,” you finish. “I was you yesterday, I remember.”<br/>
<br/>
“And she ignores the rule altogether!” the new Abi says, eyes widening in surprise. “Wait, I’m getting a memory. Oh my word, uhm… I was, she was, with Chris Fiore in here half an hour ago.” Abi blushes and looks away. “This is really strange, Will. It’s like getting hints of Eau d’Abi. Every so often another waft of her identity comes by. Like… who is Kelsey Blanken-s-word? WOW, Abi’s more messed up than I thought. She took amphetamine Tuesday night to try and beat this Kelsey in a squash match. Still lost. Why the hell is she popping pills?”<br/>
<br/>
You open the door and slip into the Stables, sidestepping out of view but within easy striking distance of the door. Niamh, for her part, flicks her hair back, finally under control. She’s become far more subdued.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s the matter?”<br/>
<br/>
“Just… I never actually asked myself why Abi is like this. We all knew she had a horseriding accident in third form, but I didn’t get how bad her spinal injury was. I think… I think she was in chronic pain. Some asshole doc started her on serious painkillers and it just messed her up. Don’t get me wrong, she’s was always been a sociopath, but… that injury just made her worse.” Niamh’s thoughts cause tears to well in Abi’s astonishing eyes. “She used to spend hours in the mirror practicing smiling, talking chirpily. Covering up the pain. How bad must your life be if you have to practice that?”<br/>
<br/>
“Still want to go through with this? It’s not too late to back out.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, it’s OK. Tragic backstory or no, she’s still a right b-word.” Niamh’s smile breaks out all over Abi’s face, stretching the lips unusually.<br/>
<br/>
“Does she censor herself like that?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, rarely seen her outside of perky fakery. Don’t worry, about it, though: I can be Abi Steiner, even without her memories. You should probably be someone close to her, so you can back me up. There’s Chris, obviously – that’s Abi’s boyfriend. I could probably convince Todd Baldwin to come out here if I can find him, too. He’d be a good catch given he’s running the Halloween party, although you’d have to pretend to be a scumbag all day.”<br/>
<br/>
Both sound good. “Who’s the third option?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I know how much you seem to enjoy being a woman. Abi’s most loyal minion, Davina Macklin. If Abi told Vee to jump off the building, I think she would, so it’d be a cinch to get her out here. And if you’re Vee, we’d get to hang around together all day, too.”</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211211211
author_id: masktrixie
title: The B-word and Her Beau
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You open the camera on your phone and look at your new face. Chris is handsome – would Abi Steiner settle for less? – with naturally shaggy hair that always threatens to be a few centimetres from breaking school dress code. He’s taller than you, though his natural slouch makes him seem shorter, and a darker tone of skin from regular time spent outdoors.<br/>
<br/>
“How do I look?” you ask. Chris’ relationship with Abi is simple: she likes being in charge, and he likes being told what to do. Neither of them are tied to each other, and Chris doesn’t feel the relationship has anything that will last beyond Xavier’s. The truth is she’s a little too crazy for him, but for now it’s all benefits and no complications. She wants to go to Miami, and Chris wants to study music production in Los Angeles.<br/>
<br/>
“You’ll pass,” Niamh says, looking at you and gripping your tie to tighten it. You smirk, and deliberately loosen it again. Chris Fiore hasn’t been able to dress smart for his entire life. “OK, ‘Chris’. Tell me something about yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh, I’m the one putting together the playlist for the party tonight.”<br/>
<br/>
“Party tonight?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh yeah, didn’t I tell you about Todd Baldwin’s party? I thought that’s why you wanted to be Abi. We – that is, Chris, Abi and Todd – are hosting a secret bash down in the Backwoods. You’ve been preparing for it all month.”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh shakes her head. “You didn’t say anything, Will. And I don’t remember it at all… although it’s kind of coming to me now. This is incredible. It’s so addictive, slipping into everyone’s secrets. I get why you love it so much.”<br/>
<br/>
You smile. “We should get to chapel.” You look over at the stirring Will Prescott. “And he needs to get to Westside.”<br/>
<br/>
The golem scrambles to gab his clothes. “Where am I, boss?” he asks. “Is it far?”<br/>
<br/>
“This is the back of the Prof. X School for Gifted Christians,” you say, resulting in a light punch on the arm from Niamh. “Car’s out front. If you hit the I-62 you should get there for first period if you hurry.”<br/>
<br/>
“Aw, c’mon, man. Can’t you ever make my life easier?”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh laughs. “I thought you said golems weren’t sassy?” You toss him the car keys, and tell him he’s meeting his girlfriend Niamh tonight, rather than going out for Halloween. He seems disappointed, though not that much, when you explain he’ll just be spending the entire evening playing console games. <br/>
<br/>
“Actually, Will,” Niamh says the golem departs, “It’s OK to kiss me.”<br/>
<br/>
The golem grins, collects its things, and heads off. You watch it leave, and prepare to step into your role. Abi’s hand juts out to block you. <br/>
<br/>
“Will,” Niamh says. “I wasn’t talking to the golem.” <br/>
<br/>
You smile, stoop, and place Chris’ lips on Abi’s. Niamh reciprocates briefly, softly, before shaking herself and passing her hand in front of her face. “OK. Let’s go be a b-word.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“What you working on, man?” Lucas Tanner sits down in front of you in the music room. You look up from your laptop, and turn it around.<br/>
<br/>
“Programming for tonight,” you say. “Whole thing will run off here. I’m just setting up a playlist and adjusting everything so we don’t get too much bass reverb, or that’ll wake up everyone. Can’t really help some of the music leaking out, but I was thinking of staying put down by the Lodge. Master's out of town, so the only real worry is anyone in the main building.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sorting it out in class is a bold move.” Lucas is invited to the party, although Chris knows he’s not into the same lifestyle as Abi. <i>Nobody is into the same lifestyle as Abi. Goddamn she makes one beautiful train wreck, though.</i> Lucas just doesn’t care what other people do as long as it won’t affect his GPA. He’s the prefect that’s most easy going, and Chris is glad Lucas is assigned to his floor. On the floor above, Dalton Reeves treats the dorms like they’re a military academy, complete with spot inspections and rigidly enforced lights-out times.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, my class project happens to align with the playlist I’m planning,” you shrug. “Musical influences of trance. It’s like how you can trace about half of hip-hop back to the Amen break.”<br/>
<br/>
“Amen break?” Lucas looks at you sceptically. You close the laptop.<br/>
<br/>
“The drum solo in <i>Amen, Brother</i> by the Winstons. Look, don’t put me in charge of the music if you’re expecting whatever’s on the Hot 100. My playlist, my rules.”<br/>
<br/>
“Abi and Todd sign off on this?” You smirk.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you kidding me? Of course not. This falls into the category of ‘pointless detail’. Todd arranged this shindig just because he thinks it’s how to keep up his social status, and Abi’s doing it because she loves being at the center of everything. Me? I just want us to all have a good time.” <i>Whatever that means, whatever that takes.</i><br/>
<br/>
You open your laptop again, but Lucas doesn’t go. “Chris?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, man?”<br/>
<br/>
“If it gets out of hand, we stop, right? Saturday’s still got a handful of morning classes, and Mr Foster can sense a hangover a mile away.”<br/>
<br/>
“You think Abi’s going to risk her reputation with the X-men over a stupid party?”<br/>
<br/>
Lucas looks serious. “I think I’ve seen Abi get into a state where she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”<br/>
<br/>
“So have I.” Chris’ mind wants to smile as he dredges up times when he knows she’s out of control and hasn’t done a thing to stop it. For the first time, you despise the skin you’re in. You get back to your playlist.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You’re sat around the back of the amphitheatre, cigarette butts scattered like detritus or flicked down by the entrance to the old storm cistern. This is where some of the sixth form go to smoke, a habit disliked but largely ignored by the staff if it’s done out of sight. Of course, Abi Steiner can’t afford a tell-tale nicotine stain or the smell of stale smoke on her blazer, and Chris doesn’t vape around her. As no one is around, it’s a convenient place for you to talk.<br/>
<br/>
“So, what’s the plan for tonight?”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh, or Abi as it’s easier to think of her, sighs and rolls so that she’s draped across your chest. Chris’ fingers instinctively grip her hair, twisting it like a silk in a loom as you gaze down on her. “I don’t know.”<br/>
<br/>
“I thought you had a plan?”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh reaches up, using her slender fingers to stroke under your chin. “I did,” she says. “But I don’t know whether to go through with it. It’d be so easy. All day, I’ve had her thoughts trickle through. At lunch I was so, so awful to Kristen Wright-Wallace. I just… I didn’t even think about it, it was like instinctive cruelty. I think, right now, if I wanted to turn on Abi Steiner I could do it like flicking a switch.” <br/>
<br/>
As a demonstration, she sits up and grabs your collar, pushing you hard against the amphitheatre wall. There’s an imperious stare in her eyes as she she rams her mouth against yours, thrusting her tongue deep down your throat even as her fingers tighten into the nape of your neck. You feel only what Chris Fiore would feel: Abi Steiner, wild and unpredictable, taking and not asking. You struggle for breath.<br/>
<br/>
“That… is Abi.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course it’s fucking me,” Niamh snaps, breaking free. “Who the fuck were you expecting? That prissy bitch Niamh Stirland?” She grips you even harder. “You’re going to think about me all night now, Chris. Or Will. Both of you. I want both of you to think about me.”<br/>
<br/>
You cough, a little flushed. Then, with a blink, Niamh’s usual smile is present and Abi has gone.<br/>
<br/>
“See? It’s easier than it was this morning. Ask me anything about her. I know it all. Like how much she’s looking forward to this party. This brain of hers is full-on cuckoo. Someone’s gonna catch ‘em in the act.”<br/>
<br/>
“So what’s the problem?” you say. Niamh gets up, straightens her blazer, and sits down beside you.<br/>
<br/>
“When I chose Abi, I just wanted to play about for a day as her. But this party tonight... I don’t want to do drugs like she would, but I could fake it and pretend to get trashed. I could act like she’s still a train wreck tomorrow, humiliate her in front of everyone in chapel. I could leave a few of her tablets out on her bed, expose her secret stash in the wall, change back, and watch as no-memory Abi gets expelled. It wouldn’t be hard, and the world would be a better place.”<br/>
<br/>
“We could do that,” you agree.<br/>
<br/>
“But… it’s evil, Will. Oh, she’d do it in a heartbeat, but I don’t know if I could ruin someone’s life like that – even hers. So maybe we should stay as these two and not do anything. Saturday, I want to see Shelly. It’s non-negotiable. But after that, it’s going to take a while before we can crack this book of yours, and we should get better at playing other people.<br/>
<br/>
“So I was thinking… have you ever played hide and seek? Saturday, we change out of Abi and Chris and let ‘em sleep off what they think is a monster black-out from the party. Then, over the weekend, we make two new masks. And, here’s the thing! Monday morning, we swap into someone else at Xavier’s, but we don’t tell each other who. We only tell your fake Shelly, and we just try and stay in character for, I dunno, a couple of days. Then, come Wednesday, we reveal who we are.”</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222112112112
author_id: masktrixie
title: Strangers in the Night
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You lean back against the tree, nestling into the cold, velvet night under the eaves of the forest, with only the clicking of leafless branches and the hooting of two amorous owls for company.<br/>
<br/>
Well, that and the trance beat kicking a short distance away.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hey, where did we go, days when the rains came, down in the hollow, playing a new game ... </i><br/>
<br/>
"The Hollow." It's like a pun. Todd set the party up at the Darkwoods, the wide hollow in the forest next to the river. It puts the Backwoods between them and the school, the better to muffle the beats they're busting out, and the alcohol-fueled yelling and hooting.<br/>
<br/>
But they still want security. So it's your job – Chris's job – to keep watch for snoopers. Here you are, then, at the edge of the Backwoods, sweeping your eyes across the approaches to the school. If any shadow—anything as small as a rabbit—tries crossing that space, you can kill the sounds and lights of the party through the app on Chris's phone. The partiers would scatter before the interloper had even reached you.<br/>
<br/>
<i> Laughing and a running, hey hey, skipping and a jumping… </i><br/>
<br/>
Yes, you could cut the music and lights, for no reason at all if you wanted, just to fuck with Chris's friends. But Chris wouldn't do that, and as you pop open another beer—cans both full and empty are scattered around your lookout post—it becomes easier to forget that you're not Chris Fiore. It's a good thing you had that booze-soaking cheeseburger earlier, so you don't get wasted enough to forget who you really are.<br/>
<br/>
<i> In the misty morning fog with our hearts a thumpin’ and you… </i><br/>
<br/>
You hear a twig snap from behind. Immediately, Chris’ body goes on high alert, half expecting Dalton Reeves to emerge in a full ghillie suit and camo face paint as he put you in a headlock. You get on your feet, only to see a more slender figure slip through the trees. You have a soft spot for girls a little larger than the one making her way to you, but she’s still so beautiful it hurts to look at her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>My brown-eyed girl.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Lonely out here?” Niamh, Abi, asks. You stay in character with an easy shrug.<br/>
<br/>
“Someone has to do it. I figure you’ll make it up to me.” <br/>
<br/>
Abi’s body almost trips on a tree branch, but she styles it out and keeps walking, reaching you and resting her head on your chest. Not an Abi move, but a Niamh one.<br/>
<br/>
“Think I’m about ready to call it a night.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not even 2am yet. What would Abi do?”<br/>
<br/>
“Get black-out drunk. I’m a little tipsy, but I’ve been faking being high for two hours. Kristen <i>is</i> high, so much so she tried to ask Lucas for a, and I quote: ‘kiss with frog prince frog kiss kiss’, then stumbled at him like fat fuck Frankenstein.” <br/>
<br/>
She pauses, looking mortified at the words that stumbled so easily across her lips, before frowning and continuing. “I think Vee’s as sober as I am and she’s pretending, too. Abi would never have noticed. Y’know, I’m not even tired yet as her? I’ve danced with every damn person there, more or less, and I could just keep going. But… I know the other me is going to hate getting dragged out here when she could be in a comfy bed.”<br/>
<br/>
“This wasn't the plan.” <br/>
<br/>
Niamh looks up, deep into your soul. “I’d like to go home now. Call the golems.”<br/>
<br/>
Chris’ smile passes your lips, and you make the call. The phone doesn’t answer for an age, before a sleepy Will Prescott more or less grunts down the line. You look back at Niamh. <br/>
<br/>
“Hypno eyes,” she chuckles. You squeeze her tighter, looking back toward the main building, still on Chris’ vigil. Todd Baldwin, no doubt fuelled by three cheeseburgers and a bottle of spirits, has stumbled back to the Master’s Lawn, and is desperately scrabbling at the front of his pants. You both watch, curious, as he fails to unzip to take a piss and, instead, his body tumbles like a felled redwood straight onto the grass. His snoring rumbles so loudly you suspect he’ll wake up Kate or Dalton by himself.<br/>
<br/>
“I better go,” you say, letting your bodies part. “No idea how the hell I’m supposed to lift him, he must be 200 pounds of dead weight. Can’t leave him like that, though, or he’ll puke his guts out all over the lawn.”<br/>
<br/>
“Gotta save the grass,” Niamh says. “Meet you out front in a half-hour, Fiore. Don’t keep me waiting.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“I’ve no idea how she does it. I have literally no idea.” Niamh looks at you, red-eyed, in the Nolan garage. After you both changed back in Abi’s car last night then fled in your white pick-up, Niamh fell asleep on the drive back to Acheson. The late-night interruption of her regular circadian rhythm has made her tired and moody. <br/>
<br/>
“Who does what?”<br/>
<br/>
“Abi. This morning, in chapel. I was yawning my head off, half the sixth form look like they’ve got a hangover with great dirty blue-black bags under their eyes, and Abigail Steiner is sat up with the prefects, looking like she’s slept a 1000 years, all twee and innocent, not a hair out of place.”<br/>
<br/>
“They know about the party already?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh boy, do they. Dalton was onto ‘em like a flash. Must have caught a whiff of booze and apparently hauled out the Washington dorms for an inspection. <i>Everyone</i> suspects Todd, but there’s not much they can do without proof. Virtually all the sixth form had an exeat signed for one reason or another. Even Kate, who insisted she met up with her fictional boyfriend at Fell’s Lake and was back by 10pm.”<br/>
<br/>
“Todd almost barfed all over me,” you report. “Managed to drag him to the entrance to the Catacombs. Let those assholes hose down their little hideaway if he blew chunks through the grate.”<br/>
<br/>
“Gross,” the Shelly golem says, wrinkling her nose. You both turn and laugh; of course, given where you’re meeting you’ve brought her along. Niamh knows she’s not Shelly, but has been treating her as such anyway.<br/>
<br/>
“I concur,” she winks to the golem. “But here’s the thing: it’s not our problem. Let Abi and Chris reap what they sow. We’re going to get on with our game of pretending to be other people.”<br/>
<br/>
“Cosplay!” Shelly interjects.<br/>
<br/>
“Right, Shelly-bean. Cosplay. Still up for hide and seek, Will? C’mon, you can’t pretend this isn’t fun.”<br/>
<br/>
“As long as we don’t forget why we’re doing this,” you say.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course. We’re rescuing Shelly,” Niamh instinctively gestures to the false version, “and cracking the book. But it’s a long-term thing. I told you, I want to really get used to the masks first.”<br/>
<br/>
“I thought you wanted to visit Shelly?”<br/>
<br/>
“I do. I really, really do. But… I can’t right now, Will. I just… can’t. So are you in, or out?”<br/>
<br/>
“In,” you say. Niamh smiles. The Shelly-golem bounces a little in excitement.<br/>
<br/>
“All right. A week’s hide and seek.” You thought it was only going to be two days, but you stay silent. “Ground rules. First up, either gender is fine. Second, not Abi, Chris or – especially – me. I know you’d find it hilarious rolling around pretending to be the fake Niamh Stirland, and it isn’t happening.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wasn’t planning on it. And three, you can’t ask your golem for a hint. That’d be two against one.”<br/>
<br/>
“Spoilsport. Four – sixth formers, sorry, seniors – only. I want to make sure we interact with each other, it’s no fun if we end up never crossing paths. Actually, that’s rule five: you’ve got to stay in character, but you can’t just stick in their circle of friends. Try and mingle with as many different people as you can each day.”<br/>
<br/>
“Agreed,” you say. “But you do know I’ve got a more limited pool to pick from, right? I only have two days as you and a day as Chris; I can barely remember who I’ve met.”<br/>
<br/>
“But you’re better at pretending,” Niamh counters. “You just get their memories instantly, while I have to work at it.” She swings her legs off the bench, types something on her cell phone, and shows it to Shelly. “You can remember that, Shelly-bean?”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh-huh! It’s one freakin’ name, Niamh. I got it.” The golem gives her a goofy smile, while Niamh deletes the message. <br/>
<br/>
“"Ha, right. OK. Shelly knows my name. Your turn. Show it to our judge here, and if she says it’s the same name then we both pick again. Otherwise, we get two masks ready, and the game begins Monday. Then each day, at ten-thirty, just before lights out, we text Shelly-bean one guess as to who the other one is. First one to guess right wins."<br/>
<br/>
Shelly heads over to you, bouncing on her heels in expectation. You ponder your choices. You didn’t meet too many people during your time as Chris and Niamh, but you’ve a few prospective options. First, there’s Lucas Tanner. Laid back, well liked, and a prefect to boot. He’s a good option, if a little obvious. (Also obvious are two other prefects: the martinet Dalton Reeves and the prim Kate Gross.) Mathilde Ambard, the aristocratic French girl from Niamh’s class, is also kind of obvious. Rich, pretty and with pedigree, she’d be an interesting person to be for a few days.<br/>
<br/>
But Niamh never said you had to be one of the boarding students. And there’s an option that you don’t think she’d expect, but could be a lot of fun: Mariah Alloway. You imagine Niamh, whoever she’s disguised as, wouldn’t be able to resist spending at least some time with her best friend, while you’d have the advantage of hanging out with the Niamh golem – and checking in on your former life too.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221121121123
author_id: masktrixie
title: Gross, Point Blank
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Good afternoon, m’am. My name’s Kate, and I’m one of the prefects here at the St. Francis Xavier School. It’s my pleasure to show you around.” The short, cheery girl in front of you practically bounces on her heels, filled with pep. <br/>
<br/>
“Of course it’s your pleasure!” you say. “A Hedgecote-Wilde in your establishment shall be a boon to school life.” You’ve decided to lay it on thick. With a school like this, however upper class you try and be probably isn’t close to the ceiling of elitism they’ve seen. You look down your nose at your escort. You’re wearing the Ruth mask, thankful her appearance could be anywhere between 25 and 40, and the finest Sunday clothes you could get from the Goodwill. <br/>
<br/>
Since Saturday afternoon, you’ve been scheming how you were going to replace your chosen name: Kate Gross, the prim prefect too honest to be involved in the Halloween party. Without Niamh’s inside knowledge, it would have been too risky to turn up as Will Prescott and hope to grab a specific person. So, instead, you made a call. While you and Niamh waited for the masks to be ready, you pranked the school as a high-strung prospective parent with cash to burn. Deciding that the parents of the St. X crowd aren’t used to being told ‘no’, you insisted on a personal tour of the grounds that Sunday afternoon. And, given your fictional daughter, Millicent Hedgecote-Wilde (thanks, upper-class name generator) would enter the fifth form as soon as possible, it made sense that a prefect would volunteer – or be volunteered – to show you around. You had a 50/50 chance of whether it would be Abigail Steiner or Kate Gross. Luck was on your side.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sure your daughter is an all-star,” Kate says, with a voice that tries to stay positive no matter the level of asshole she’s dealing with. “And believe me, this is a school that’s perfect for honing academic talent. Now if you’ll follo―”<br/>
<br/>
“Academics are only part of the education I require my daughter to receive!” you practically squeal, wondering how this gibberish is popping out of your head. “Millicent is a gifted yachtswoman and hunting enthusiast. I also presume you have adequate music facilities? I would hate for her bassoon lessons to go to waste.”<br/>
<br/>
Kate is a little taken aback. “Well, uh, yes, we have an orchestra that might accommodate a… bassoon. We do have some skeet shooters, I think, who head down to the range outside Lattyville. And I don’t know about yachting, but I’m pretty sure there are facilities for small sailboats on Russian Lake, which is about an hour from there.”<br/>
<br/>
“Uncertainties butter no parsnips! lf Millie can’t have a bassoon, ship’s wheel or shotgun in her hand, I just don’t know how you can call yourself a school,” you snipe. “Now, show me the accommodations!”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, usually I start the tour with the school—”<br/>
<br/>
“Accommodations!” you say, voice raising an octave . “I shall not have Millicent slum in substandard quarters!”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh,” Kate is a little hesitant. “OK. But this is Sunday, so most of the boarders are out, and I’d rather not show you a shared dorm without someone’s permission. If we do it at the end, Mary and Sam, two of our sixth formers, have agreed to…”<br/>
<br/>
“Nonsense. Show me <i>your</i> rooms.” <br/>
<br/>
“Well, I’m a prefect, so I have my own <i>room</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
You fix Kate with a steady glare. “Are you suggesting my daughter shall not be a prefect next year?”<br/>
<br/>
Kate tries to remain perky. “Uh, no, of course not. If you want to see, that’s not a problem. Please follow me…”<br/>
<br/>
<i>Gotcha.</i> Ruth Hedgecote-Wilde shall not be denied.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Monday. Seven o’clock. You straighten your tie and look in the mirror, sucking in a deep, satisfied breath at your pristine appearance. Kate Amanda Gross. A mere 5’2”, but with a work ethic and social schedule that’s almost too good to be true. You pat your hair in place, making sure you’re set for the day. Your uniform is immaculate; your shoes shined; your teeth brushed at precisely the demanded strokes per minute enforced by your electric toothbrush. Practically perfect in every way.<br/>
<br/>
You enjoy Kate’s natural spring in your step as you head down to breakfast. She loves mornings, feeling it’s the time of the day with most potential – and it makes a hell of a difference waking up as someone so naturally alert at this time of day than as Will Prescott in desperate need of caffeine. You wave to the fifth formers as you walk down the stairs, then patiently wait in the breakfast queue to get your muesli, chatting to Dan Cipriani about whether he’s trying out for the school play this week. Then it’s a splash of milk into the cereal bowl before you settle down and flick through your new phone. Top of the range, with a camera reel filled with pictures of you on the hiking trail (of course she spent the summer walking the Appalachians with underprivileged teens, what else would someone like Kate do?). Breakfast time flies by, until—<br/>
<br/>
“Shoot,” you mutter. Milk on your tie. For most students, it’s a simple matter of dabbing the stain and ignoring it; for Kate Gross it’s an imperfection she can’t abide. You excuse yourself from the dining hall and climb up the stairs to your room. Unlike most of the sixth form, your dorm is right at the top of the building, among the fifth formers – Kate likes it for the view and hates it for the drumming of the rain on the slate roof. But you’re only halfway up the final flight of stairs when you realize there’s someone rushing up ahead of you. Cautiously, you hang back, a prefect’s senses immediately heightened. You edge up, just enough to see someone creep down the corridor – and then slip into the room of the only other sixth former on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
<i>No way. It can’t be this easy, can it?</i> You edge along to the room door and listen. There’s a heavy thud from inside, followed by the sound of exertion. Either Dalton’s got early morning company, or Niamh’s stripping his clothes. You chew your lip, pause, then knock.<br/>
<br/>
“Dalton, you in?” you ask. There’s a muffled noise that stops abruptly. “Dalton?” Of course, if you’re right, there’s no way he can reply – he’ll be unconscious. “Dalton, it’s Kate. Listen, I want to talk about the Jefferson dorm sweeps before the prefect meeting.” You wait again; no sound. “K, well, I’ll in my room for the next quarter hour. Door’s open, just come by.”<br/>
<br/>
You smile and let your dainty feet patter along the corridor, heading to Kate’s room and leaving the door wide open and welcoming. You slip off your tie and replace it with a clean one, then pull out Kate’s cell. It’s early, but if you’re right, why wait? All you do is lose a guess for the day. You text Dalton Reeves’ name to Shelly.<br/>
<br/>
The message pings back two minutes later. <i> OMG HOW!!!! YES!!!! YOU ARE FREAKIN’ AMAZING!!!!!! TOTALLY HOPED YOU’D WIN!!!!</i> <br/>
<br/>
You can’t help but laugh. One spilled milk stain and you managed to identify Niamh’s victim before she even finished the switch! You let yourself fall back onto the mattress, kicking Kate’s legs up in the air and giggling. Then, sitting back up, you begin to scheme behind the innocent mask you’re wearing.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Don’t tell Niamh</i>, you text back. <i>We’re going to have some fun with this.</i><br/>
<br/>
A few minutes later the apparent Dalton Reeves comes to your room; you’ve left the door wide open. He gives an overt, manly grunt. “Gross,” he barks. “What’s the matter?”<br/>
<br/>
You smile and begin talking about the Saturday dorm sweeps following the Halloween party – events you’re sure Niamh is yet to gain the memories of. Your highlight is when, as Kate, you are unable to even say what you found taped behind a poster above Samantha Tait’s bed, and instead just mouth ‘pro-phy-lac-tic’ while widening your eyes. You have no idea how ‘Dalton’ doesn’t burst out laughing.<br/>
<br/>
But behind Kate’s charming naivety, pure mischief reigns. With your open door and ‘accidental’ disturbing of Niamh’s switch, you’re confident Kate Gross is now entirely above suspicion. And, as the other Jefferson prefect with Dalton Reeves, you’ve got a perfect chance to hang around with Dalton/Niamh at point blank range to count coup. <br/>
<br/>
The new game could be to try and control which name Niamh texts to Shelly each day. As Kate Gross – a literal girl scout (gold award, no less) – you can lay red herrings, direct Dalton around and try to push Niamh into errors. You’ve already won, but if you can get her to run around in circles and pick five names of your choice, wouldn’t that be fun?<br/>
<br/>
Or perhaps you could really turn the tables. Everyone at St. X thinks Kate’s boyfriend in Waxtend is imaginary, her version of ‘we met at Niagara Falls and he lives in Canada’; it’s a joke she smiles along with wearily, despite him being very real. But perhaps, for one week only, Kate Gross could think of Dalton Reeves as something more than a fellow prefect. Could you manage, in five days, to seduce your own girlfriend?</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211211211232
author_id: masktrixie
title: Gross Profits
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The emergency prefect meeting is, in the professional opinion of Will Prescott, a shitshow. Marius only called it on Sunday night, and (of course) you’re the first to arrive in the formal dining hall at 8.15am, while the rest of the students are getting ready for the school day. Marius Hall and Lucas Tanner turn up red in the face, having clearly been arguing and counter-arguing for so long they’re already sick of each other. Abigail Steiner arrives shortly after, taking a seat as she plays little-miss-perfect, but you know she’s probably relishing the group being at each other’s throats. Todd Baldwin doesn’t even bother turning up.<br/>
<br/>
Kate, of course, doesn’t need to play at being little-miss-perfect at all, and you twitch your eyebrows sympathetically at everyone – even when Lucas’ fury turns on the unprepared ‘Dalton’, calling him an asshole for a reason he doesn’t specify. Niamh, for her part, seems to hold her own, although given she doesn’t know why Lucas is pissed, it’s hard for her to do much more than bark clipped, stock phrases and use her physique to try and intimidate the usually relaxed Adams prefect. <br/>
<br/>
“OK, guys, listen,” Marius finally says, bringing the room to order. “I spoke to Wisner yesterday. They know all about the party. Sunday, the groundskeeper went down to the Darkwoods and saw the remains.” He gives Abi a direct look. “And you can cut the act, Steiner. I know you were there.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know what you mean, Marius,” she says, in a tone that would make a jury find her not guilty. “I was as shocked as you were on Saturday.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, right. Guess you weren’t there either, Lucas? Or Todd, for that matter, who can’t even be bothered to show his contemptuous ass this morning. Boy, I’m gonna throw him some suicide passes in practice tonight.” Inwardly, your Kate persona is a little hurt nobody thinks she was at the party – sure, she wasn’t there, but it would be nice to be suspected. <i>I can be cool! I can throw shapes and bust a groove. I know all the hottest clubs in town, too. Maybe I should tell them about the Endzone. It’s super fun.</i><br/>
<br/>
“How about you, Dalton?” Abi asks. “Were you there?” You’re not sure why she’s asking; she knows who should have been at the party… <i>Oh. She’s trying to figure how he found out about it.</i> <br/>
<br/>
“I was the one who caught ‘em, Steiner,” Reeves replies stiffly, without giving anything away. “And I was the first one to do our jobs, too. Kate and I initiated search protocols on Saturday afternoon. Jefferson dorms have already had a full sweep.” <i>Initiated search protocols? Niamh, you are trying way too hard.</i> <br/>
<br/>
“And ain’t that a peach!” Lucas hisses. “Now we have to do the same for Adams and Washington, too, or Wisner’s gonna be riding our asses. And we can’t stop there, either – by jumping the gun, we’ve got no option but to escalate the punishments, you fucking alt-right militia prick.”<br/>
<br/>
“Easy, Lucas!” Marius holds up his hands. “Right now we’ve got to focus on keeping the faculty off our back. Applications are coming up, and the last thing anyone in the sixth form needs is a black mark. We’ve got to do the searches. But I want you all to keep any punishments light, regardless of what’s found. Nothing that leaves a dent on a permanent record, right?”<br/>
<br/>
Lucas nods. Dalton growls. Abi smiles. All eyes turn to you. “Of course,” you shrug. “I mean, I did find a <i>you-know-what</i> and a few other things in the girls’ rooms, but I wouldn’t want anyone’s future threatened by it.”<br/>
<br/>
“What’s a <i>you-know-what?</i>” Abi asks, trying to hide her clear amusement behind that innocent smile. You strongly suspect she just wants to see Kate try and fail to avoid speaking directly.<br/>
<br/>
“A condom,” Dalton interjects. “I’m more concerned about a sack full of liquor and cigarettes someone tried to hide in a toilet cistern.” A satisfied smirk ripples over his face. “Knew I’d find their stash, so they offloaded the goods out of their rooms.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh my word!” you say. <i>Dalton didn’t tell Kate about this. Evidently he was holding it as a trump card, and Niamh’s getting his memories through now.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Usual suspects, of course: Hitch, Ince, Ricci and van Camp. No proof, just a hunch.”<br/>
<br/>
“Dalts, you’re a <i>Jefferson</i> prefect,” Marius says. “You know damn well that Scott Ricci isn’t in your house. You have no authority to—”<br/>
<br/>
“Save it, Hall. I only need one bunkmate to be in Jefferson for a sweep, and—"<br/>
<br/>
“Guys, we’re getting side-tracked,” you interject. “Although Abi, there is one itty-bitty thing about the dorm sweep. I know you’re friends with Davina and Kristen, and they refused to open their lockers for me. Well, not <i>refused</i>, just said they’d prefer not to. Maybe you could ask them to show you, instead?”<br/>
<br/>
Abi pretends she’ll deal with it and you all move on. It doesn’t take long for you to all agree to continue the sweeps, and Marius quickly hits on the idea of suspending exeats too. You give only Kate’s token resistance to the idea – putting you and Niamh in campus lockdown is fine by you – and find your timidity matched by Abi.<br/>
<br/>
Lucas is the sole voice of dissent. “Fucking joke,” he says. “This is bullshit. Why don’t we hit the day students too? Ban parking for a week just to show ‘em who’s boss!” It’s a suggestion dripping with sarcasm. <br/>
<br/>
“Not a bad idea,” Dalton nods in agreement, even if he seems to catch himself after he says it. <i>This is hilarious. Niamh’s focusing so much on staying in character she just sabotaged her golem’s ride to school.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Agreed,” Hall says. “It’s more equitable. So, dorm sweeps, two week pull of exeats, one week parking ban. Keeps faculty happy, although it’ll piss off the entire year. Things’ll settle once it’s over though, and we explain to everyone this is in their best interest. Votes?” <br/>
<br/>
Lucas fumes all the more, and keeps his hands by his side. Dalton, checkmated, raises his hand with Marius. Abi and you seem to be competing for the least enthusiastic agreement, but eventually your votes are counted. Four to one. <br/>
<br/>
“Passed,” Marius says, just as Todd Baldwin finally stumbles into the room. “Nice of you to join us, Todd. You missed all the fun. C’mon, I’ll tell you on the way to chapel. We’re sweeping the Washington dorms after dinner…”<br/>
<br/>
You watch as Marius and Todd depart. Abi more or less skips out, clearly enjoying herself, while Lucas practically shoves past Dalton with a brief, spat ‘asshole’. You get up, walking softly behind Dalton, and tug at his elbow briefly, keeping hold of it as he turns.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry about that,” you say, letting Kate’s natural sympathy shine. “I don’t know what’s got into Lucas today.”<br/>
<br/>
 “It’s fine, Gross. Tanner’s just got a lot on his mind.” <br/>
<br/>
You take a step forward, and let your small hand slip down his cuffs and nestle in his hand. “Call me Kate, please,” you smile, a little nervously. “And I know everyone’s stressed right now, but there was still no need for him to cuss like that. Are you OK? You seem a little… I don’t know. Tense.” You look up at Dalton – Niamh – a full foot taller than you, and let your own feelings for Niamh seep into Kate’s expression, warming your facial muscles and diluting Kate’s pupils. <br/>
<br/>
Dalton coughs a little, and pulls his hand from your grip. “I’m fine, Gro— Kate. Just going to be a busy week with exam prep and the crackdown.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I know,” you nod. “I suspect everyone’s going to be going cuckoo this week. We’re gonna have to coordinate extra-close. And we’ll have to make allowances, let people blow off some steam. So, how about, if you see anyone going bananas, let me know. I’ll do the same. And then we can both agree on what we’re going to do, to make sure we give them plenty of slack.”<br/>
<br/>
Dalton nods. “Good idea.” He gives a brief smile and turns to go, but again you catch his hand. <br/>
<br/>
“And Dalton, about Wednesday?” You know Niamh probably has zero idea what you’re talking about, but that just makes it all the more fun. “Mathilde thinks we need a mathlete. She suggested inviting Mariah Alloway along to the study group, but I was thinking her friend Aiden Nichols might be a better choice? Unless,” you turn coquettish, using time Will Prescott misread a perfectly innocent comment by a girl to your advantage, “you want to make our session… one-to-one?”<br/>
<br/>
Kate Gross has seen Dalton Reeves turn red before. When he plays rugby, and uses his shoulders as a human battering ram to try and get a… whatever the equivalent of a touchdown is in rugby. When he first became a prefect, stumbled into a pillow fight among the second form, and decided the best way to handle the situation was to below so loud it woke everyone in New Hall. But this is a whole new shade of scarlet, where the unflappable Dalton becomes so clearly panicked he doesn’t know what to do.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh. No. That won’t be necessary,” he flubs. “And I don’t mind whether we invite Mari― invite Alloway. Or Nichols. For the group. So there’s a group of us. To study.” <br/>
<br/>
“OK, I’ll let Mathilde know,” you say, allowing Niamh to wonder if she just imagined Kate’s interest. “Welp, I’d better get to it. See you second period for world affairs, huh?” You smile and slip past him, letting your chest push out so it brushes against his waist by bare millimetres. Dalton coughs a little and you slip out of the door.<br/>
<br/>
This week is going to be so much fun.</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222112112112321
author_id: masktrixie
title: Points on the Gross
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Late afternoon. You’re deep in the backwoods, hair tied back in a ponytail, running so hard it burns your chest and flecks of hot spit slip from your mouth. Your trainers squelch in the mud, and gooey brown dirt dribbles down your calves. You keep going, enjoying the endorphin rush that spreads up your spine and causes your muscles to tighten.<br/>
<br/>
“Hold up, Kate,” Alexis Garnet-Jacobs says behind you. You slow down and turn, looking back at the girl trying to keep pace on the trail. Hands on your hips, you take a heavy breath and give her a moment. She’s a sweaty mess, not able to keep up with your demanding pace. <br/>
<br/>
“You OK?” <br/>
<br/>
She nods. “Yeah, just need a minute. Where the hell are we, anyway?”<br/>
<br/>
“Edge of the school grounds,” you say, sucking in a welcome lungful of cool air. You started off heading down the drive, then turned out for a lap around the playing fields, then down to the river, along the dirt trail that marks where the old road used to run. <i>And where Letty and his driver careened off and died, about 100 years ago.</i> It’s a beautiful stretch, where sunlight filters through the Fall colors and a light breeze disturbs the Mohegan.<br/>
<br/>
You check your phone. “Been going about 4k now. If you want, I can cut us back onto the main trail? We should come out just by the stone seat?”<br/>
<br/>
Alexis shakes her head. “I can keep going. Just give me a minute.” She presses her fingers into her stomach to try and ease a muscle cramp. “I have no idea how you do it, Kate. You’re like a goddamn dynamo.”<br/>
<br/>
“One foot at a time,” you shrug, with a knowing grin. You have to admit, you enjoy being Kate Gross. As Will Prescott, you always liked girls with something you could hold, fantasised about firecrackers who’d give a blow job at a drop of a hat. But there’s something quite wonderful about Kate’s petite frame and its tight curves. You’re almost tempted to keep it. Sure, Kate isn’t a beauty like Abigail Steiner, and she’s nowhere near as rich as Alexis – a girl for whom the idea of running out of her allowance is a completely alien concept. But right now you’ve hopped into a friendly, popular girl who everyone knows is on a direct course for Harvard. <i>Then a Fullbright. And then a position in DC…</i><br/>
<br/>
“Nah, no good,” Alexis says, taking a seat on a nearby tree stump. “This stitch is killing me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Want me to help you stretch it out?” you say, crouching down and then letting yourself freefall onto a dirt bank. She shakes her head.<br/>
<br/>
“Just a minute. Actually, it’s quite a nice spot for a breather, huh? Bet you’ve been rushing around all day dealing with complaints about cancelled exeats or parking rights.”<br/>
<br/>
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you nod. Half of the sixth form seem to have approached you today. Every different group usually has a go-to prefect, someone they know are loyal to their interests. Jocks go to Marius; mischief-makers go to Todd; the theatre crowd go to Lucas. Kate gets just about anyone who’s looking for a sympathetic ear and a promise that, at the very least, you’ll look into it. You let Kate’s mind take over. “Between you and I, the prefect meeting was <i>not</i> unanimous. Todd didn’t even turn up until the end, when we’d already decided. Lucas and Marius came in together–“<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sure,” Alexis cuts you off mid-gossip, cracking her neck a little. “Bet you’ve been busy with the contraband searches too. I heard Dalton found a huge stash in the boy’s toilets.”<br/>
<br/>
You nod. “Where did you hear that? He didn’t tell me until this morning, but it sounded like several bottles of alcohol and a whole carton of cigarettes. It’s amazing what people have hidden around the school.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” Alexis agrees. “Any idea whose stash it was?”<br/>
<br/>
Kate’s innocence means that she has no idea she’s being pumped for information, but your Will Prescott mind has too much experience of this kind of thing. Kate’s mind offers up is that Alexis has been flirting with Scott Ricci for the past month, and you’re amazed someone as obviously smart as her can’t put two and two together.<br/>
<br/>
“Scott, Jared and Sean,” you say. “At least, that’s what Dalton thinks. I’m not sure. I mean, I know those three are virtually inseparable, but they just don’t seem the type – although I had to handle Hannah McMaster this afternoon complaining Scott walked into the girls’ toilets.”<br/>
<br/>
“He did what?”<br/>
<br/>
“I know!” you laugh. “I think it was an accident, had to tell Hannah to calm down, I thought she was going to freak. But that’s just small stuff, know? Prefect stuff. This party, though – that isn’t going to go away so easily.” You take off your shoe and fish out a loose pebble, watching as it tumbles free. “You know anyone who went?”<br/>
<br/>
“Me?” Alexis seems a little taken aback by the question. <i>I bet she was there.</i> “Pft. Honestly, Kate, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was just a handful of people having a few cheeseburgers, a few drinks and a dance. So, what’s happening with Scott, Jared and Sean? Dalton keeping an eye on ‘em?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, gosh, who doesn’t he keep an eye on?” You laugh, even as a mischievous thought springs into my head. “Although you have to admit, they’re pretty dreamy eyes.”<br/>
<br/>
Alexis stops dead, and turns her head to look at you. “Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
You blush a little, using Kate’s feelings for her own boyfriend. <i>Who is real! And does live in Waxtend! Why does nobody believe me?</i> “Yeah. I mean, I know I’ve got a guy…”<br/>
<br/>
“Kate,” Alexis says, putting her hands over yours. “We all know there’s no guy. You’ve got a crush on Dalton?”<br/>
<br/>
You just bend your neck and scrunch your eyes, causing both of you to burst into giggles.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh my God! You should totally ask him out.” Alexis is immediately back on her feet. “C’mon, let’s get back. We need to talk about this in full.”<br/>
<br/>
You slip your shoe back on and bound after her. Alexis’ stitch seems to have miraculously cured itself as you race back to Founders Hall at a much greater pace than before, then hop in the showers, where you enjoy the near-scalding water and the enjoyable, perfumed scent of Kate’s shampoo, before settling into her evening routine of herding the lower forms and messaging her parents. If the St. X rumor mill is anything like Westside, Dalton’s going to be pestered to ask you out before the day is over. The ball’s in Niamh’s court – now you just have to see how she plays it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Tuesday morning. You wake up feeling refreshed and at peace with the world. It’s amazing how naturally you’ve settled into a feminine persona. Sure, there’s a few things you’d want to change if you settled into Kate’s life – her pink pyjamas, for a start – but mostly it’s just great being her. It’s only as you brush your teeth that you realize how sinister the thought in your head was. At first, you planned simply on spending a few days as your borrowed identities as a game. But why should you? With the book, you could just become anyone and upgrade your lives completely. <br/>
<br/>
With a replacement Will Prescott and Niamh Stirland, the world is yours for the taking. And Kate Gross isn’t even the greatest option available. Alexis Garnet-Jacobs, your running partner, is wealthy in the extreme. And Mathilde Ambard, who you’ve already arranged a study session with tomorrow, is literal French aristocracy. Kate’s brain can reel off several other possibilities. The richest kid in school is Sherri Watson – if you’d be willing to go through your teens again, you could be in line to inherit the kind of wealth that even movie stars couldn’t dream of. And speaking of movie stars, it’d be all too easy to become fourth former Connor Mackie, the son of a Hollywood mogul. Goodbye Will Prescott: with a handful of masks you could make some swaps and step into the life of an Oscar winner adored by millions. Why have the latest starlet in your dreams when you could have her in your bed? Or <i>be</i> her, see that reflection every morning, play at being the new queen of Hollywood? And when the queen is dead, you can just become the next in line to the throne. It’s taken a few days as Kate to realize just how small-scale your plans have been.<br/>
<br/>
It’s hard to shake the thought from your mind, even as you walk along to New Hall and check in on the dorms. You’ve got the ability to be anyone, at any time, and you’re wasting it playing <i>Hide and Seek</i>? There’s no rush to cure Shelly, as her golem is happily living her life right now. And as Niamh’s already lost the game, you don’t really have to continue playing – or trying to seduce her. Maybe you should get the book and start work on a new mask without Niamh’s knowledge. If she goes with it, then great: you’ve got a partner with whom you can have a lot of fun. And if not, then you can leave her behind before she knows what’s happened.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221121121125
author_id: masktrixie
title: Going Alloway, Part 1
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Monday. 7.45am. You’re late getting to Niamh’s, and she hops directly into passenger seat from the curb when you pull up. She looks as bored with the mundane Monday routine as ever. You spend most of the trip listening to a bootleg, a taped concert by a local band called Slow Fast Hazel, who you saw play a few weeks ago. The sound quality sucks, but it keeps you occupied until you’re almost at the Lattyville turn off to the ’44, racing along well past the speed limit.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you’re not Will by now. You’re Mariah Alloway, driving with your best friend, looking forward to a normal week at St X.<br/>
<br/>
This morning brought a very early start for you, taking you out to a large townhouse on Thirtieth Street, opposite the convention center. Such premium property comes with a premium price, but Mariah’s parents, your new mind tells you, are both dentists and can afford it. You flick your tongue across your new teeth, gleaming white and straight as an arrow. It was one of the first things you noticed when you came around as her, panicked and disoriented in your dad’s garage, next to his pristine Mustang. Then it was a matter of putting on your uniform, wrapping yourself up from the chill November air with a thick red overcoat, slipping grandmom’s ring on your finger, and setting your glasses on your nose.<br/>
<br/>
Mariah Alloway. Hair a thick, matted mess of strawberry blonde down just beyond your shoulders. Weight around your waist, arms and thighs from way too many snacks – your parents never let you have candy or soft drinks, and you’ve been making up for it from the vending machines. A large, plain face, with a stubby nose, confident eyebrows and a soft chin that you keep poking. Not exactly popular, definitely not cool, but your sense of humor means you get on with most of your year. Swimmer, pretty terrible soccer player, and a reasonable saxophonist. Classes a bizarre mix of science and maths subjects (which are your passion), film studies and photography (because, it turns out, you suck at your passion and the school wants to coax up your GPA).<br/>
<br/>
All in all, a perfect Trojan horse.<br/>
<br/>
It’s not until the music ends that you decide to replay, almost word for word, a conversation you had side five days ago – except this time from the other side.<br/>
<br/>
“Plans for tonight?” you ask, prodding your glasses further onto your nose and shuffling in your seat as you try to stop the sun glare from the rear-view mirror.<br/>
<br/>
“I would say so,” Niamh replies.<br/>
<br/>
“You’d say so? Sounds like this involves Will, hashtag hearts-for-eyes. Spill.” You're trying to make up for lost time, and slip into the passing lane to weave past a big rig. But the asshole trucker decides to race, and strands you in the wrong lane. Frustrated, you hit the brakes and slip back behind him.<br/>
<br/>
“We were thinking of going to get donuts," Niamh says.<br/>
<br/>
“Again?” you tease. "Oh, must be serious if it involves confectionary twice in a week. Since when do you like donuts so much? Why haven’t I ever been invited for donuts with you? Or any type of cake-based activity, for that matter? I’m telling you here and now, I don’t care what we do as long as it has cake, cats, or, ideally, cake <i>and</i> cats. What I’m saying is… why doesn’t Saratoga Falls have a cat café?”<br/>
<br/>
You both laugh as you pull off the interstate. Time to probe further. You’re Mariah; why wouldn’t she talk to you about her boyfriend?<br/>
<br/>
“Fine, if you’re going to crush my feline donut dreams, at least tell me about Will.”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh blushes. “Will’s…” she flaps her hands wildly. “He’s… I don’t know! You know how sometimes two people get thrown together, and something just sort of happens?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh yeah. My love life has been a never-ending torrent of serendipity.” You look at her sceptically. Mariah hasn’t had a date in eight months. “C’mon. You two are joined at the hip. Deets.”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s cute, in a squirrelly kind of way. Bit of an oddball. Actually, ‘a bit’ is probably understating it, the boy’s got some unique quirks, I’ll say that. But he’s sweet.”<br/>
<br/>
“Insightful,” you say, trying desperately not to ask what ‘cute in a squirrelly kind of way’ means. “Wouldn’t recommend submitting it in the essay competition, but insightful. He going to be OK with your trip?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s only for a few days. Besides, we’ve got a little project going. Might be something to take over to Cambridge, actually, so I can ask an expert about it. Haven’t mentioned that to Will yet. Kind of putting it off, actually.”<br/>
<br/>
Your ears prick up. <i>Niamh is holding secrets back from you?!</i><br/>
<br/>
“What’s the project?" you ask as casually as you can manage. "Is it that game you were working on last week? The one with the super-nerdy manual? I tried Googling it, but couldn’t find any mention.” Which is true – Mariah tried in a fumbling way to research Niamh's grimoire, but got nothing but horoscopes. Your current identity, you are beginning to understand, is nowhere near as smart as her mind tells you she is. In the fourth form, she tried to write out equations on one of the Stables’ windows. Unfortunately, she used permanent marker. Any Mariah thought must be treated with utmost caution.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh,” Niamh says, caught on the backfoot, as though she doesn't know what you're talking about. Then you remember: of course she doesn’t recall that conversation! It was <i>you</i> that Mariah was talking to; she was talking to you, pretending to Niamh, while you had Niamh still trapped under the "Will Prescott" mask. <br/>
<br/>
<i>How surreal!</i> You're replaying Mariah’s memory of a conversation she had with someone who was really you! <br/>
<br/>
But Niamh has come up with a reply: “Yeah. It’s pretty rad. And really obscure. But apparently there’s a retro computing museum in Cambridge.”<br/>
<br/>
You give a heavy sigh. “You get to fly out to England – full school credit – and not only get your photo with Big Ben, you also dork around with some game manual. Meanwhile, I will be stuck at home, working on integral calculus, waiting for a pop-up saying AerisLives777 is online.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is this about Sunday?” Niamh says, rolling her eyes. “I messaged you to say I was busy and wouldn’t be online. And am I supposed to pretend you <i>don’t</i> want to do integral calculus? I have literally seen you work on math problems for fun. Never mind what you’re supposed to be doing, just hackin’ away at a math problem.”<br/>
<br/>
“She makes a fair point,” you concede, before letting Mariah’s cheeky smile burst out, just in case Niamh thought you were being serious.<br/>
<br/>
The sign for the school comes up a few miles later, and then you’re turning through the stone gatehouse. Niamh grows silent.<br/>
<br/>
“You OK?” you ask as you slow for the speed bumps, then pull up in the first available spot. <i>8.04am. She’ll have to move fast if she's going to get herself into a disguise</i>. A few hundred yards away, in the visitor’s carpark, you can see Will Prescott’s white truck. Once you made the switch, you’d instructed the new Will to drive all the way out here, stay out of sight for half an hour, then drive back to town. He bitched about having to speed to make it to Westside on time, but it’s an important part of the charade. You want Niamh to think you’ve replaced a boarder.<br/>
<br/>
“Just thinking about stuff I’ve got to do today,” Niamh says, sounding distracted. You sit expectantly for a few seconds, but she doesn’t elaborate.<br/>
<br/>
You walk with Niamh into Founders Hall, as she and Mariah usually do. But instead of accompanying her into the chapel you pretend to see someone in the games room and tell her you'll catch up to her in a bit. <i>Play fair</i>, you remind yourself. <i>Give her a chance to make a switch.</i><br/>
<br/>
But playing fair doesn't mean you can't play it smart.<br/>
<br/>
So after you glimpse Niamh darting back the way you came, you step back into the main hallway in time to watch her dash up the staircase to the upper floors, where the fifth- and sixth-form borders have their dorms. <i>She's looking to catch someone in their room, you think.</i> She'd better hurry; uniformed students are beginning to come down.<br/>
<br/>
You grab a drink from a vending machine and take out Mariah’s iPad. A few taps later, and the school intranet brings up a list of the 80-or-so students in your year. “You using this?” Davina Macklin interrupts you, and with a muttered apology you move down a few steps, to slouch against the wall while balancing coffee and tablet.<br/>
<br/>
Whoever Niamh picks, you figure, she only has 25 minutes to make the switch, and the act of copying will take up most of that time. So, it stands to reason, whoever you see walking around in the next quarter of an hour won't be her. So you start the hunt by crossing Vee Macklin's name off the list.<br/>
<br/>
Half an hour later, most of the sixth form have brushed past you on their way to chapel. And you are down to just 15 possible names.<br/>
<br/>
You haven’t seen any of the prefects pass, which is odd. But it could be they just have duties in the aftermath of the alleged Halloween party.<br/>
<br/>
Otherwise, the missing sixth formers are an odd mix, slicing straight across the school’s strata and social circles: Mathilde Ambard, Michael "Pwntang" Boateng, Alyssa Erikson, Roxanne Hurley, Scott Ricci, Gabriel Santos, Loki Swain, Frances Washington, Kristen Wright-Wallace and Ken Zero.<br/>
<br/>
Five prefects, seven regular boarders, three day students. Niamh has to be one of them.<br/>
<br/>
You move up on the pew as her golem – at least, you think it’s the golem, it’s impossible to be sure – takes a seat next to you.<br/>
<br/>
Where could the real Niamh be?</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211211211251
author_id: masktrixie
title: Going Alloway: Monday
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“School dismissed. Sixth form, stay behind.”<br/>
<br/>
You stay rooted to your seat as the lower forms file out of the chapel, murmuring rumors about why you’ve been held back. Every single one of you knows why: the Halloween Party. Eventually your form are alone.<br/>
<br/>
“OK guys,” Marius Hall says, a quarterback addressing the huddle. “Everyone knows what this is about, so I’ll cut to the chase. The blow-out on Halloween has made some serious waves. Faculty aren’t happy, and we can’t be seen to set a bad example for the lower forms. Which is why, this morning, we all discussed what we were going to do. We operate on an honor system. So, you’ve got one chance to come forward as the organizer, take your punishment like a man. Or the whole sixth form is going to take the hit.”<br/>
<br/>
There’s a disgruntled silence. Most eyes fall on Todd Baldwin, while Dalton Reeves stands next to him, a small upturn of a smile on his lips. Abi Steiner and Kate Gross are in the middle, both looking the picture of reluctant innocence, while Lucas Tanner, for the first time in his life, looks utterly pissed off. <br/>
<br/>
“No one?” Marius says. “All right. I’d have hoped someone would have had the balls to come forward. The prefects met this morning and decided the following. All exeats are hereby withdrawn for two weeks, no exceptions.”<br/>
<br/>
Groans erupt from the pews. Marius continues.<br/>
<br/>
“Washington dorms have been swept, and I understand the Adams and Jefferson dorms will be too. Any contraband – and I do not care how small – will be disposed of. Computers will be checked for anything that can bypass the intranet. Fair warning: get it off your laptop or you won’t <i>have</i> a laptop.”<br/>
<br/>
Someone to your left mutters ‘fucksake’; to your right there are grunts and cries of protest. Lucas Tanner looks even more annoyed and is visibly biting his lip. Baldwin, Reeves, Steiner and Gross stay as they were.<br/>
<br/>
“Finally, day students – to restrict you bringing contraband to friends, as of tomorrow, parking privileges are revoked until the end of the week. Get a ride from your parents or use the buses.”<br/>
<br/>
The whole place erupts. As Mariah, the first two don’t hit you at all. But the third? “WHAT?” you’re almost out of your seat before the Niamh golem’s hand is on your shoulder. “Unbelievable. Some asshats get drunk in the woods and I lose my car. How’s that fair? How’s that fair, Marius, huh?”<br/>
<br/>
Your voice is lost in the din, but Mariah’s brain is shaking with rage. <i>Shit,</i> you think, using her fire to conceal your real worry: <i>how am I supposed to find Niamh without the ability to stay late?</i> Picking a day student now seems a really dumb idea. You keep your eyes forward. Lucas looks over at his fellow prefects like he wants to kill one of them… but, strangely, it’s not aimed at Todd Baldwin. Lucas knows he’s the man responsible – he told you on Friday when you were Chris Fiore.<br/>
<br/>
“Thems the breaks, people. And if anyone wants to man up and admit it, obviously we can look at reinstating things sooner. Form dismissed.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You spend the morning on autopilot, the first break sat slumped on a bench outside. The prefect meeting is bugging you. Sure, it makes sense if they suspend privileges, but it’s also a chance to snoop around dorms. Is she hiding as one of the five? You’re still puzzling it out when –<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, Mariah.” You look up. Alyssa Erikson is coming over to you slowly, making her way unsteadily on the gravel as she rests heavy on a light metal crutch, its handle heavily wrapped in padding. You focus on your Mariah brain. <i>We’ve never shared a class. I know her only by reputation and having seen her around – Alyssa’s got some kind of disability, always on a single crutch. Runs the school paper.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Oh, hey.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mind if I sit here?” she asks. You suddenly feel very awkward, and pull your books aside to make space. Alyssa is one of your suspects.<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, sure. Sure. No problem. Of course. Why couldn’t you? Uh, did you want something?” It’s meaningless babble, and Alyssa soaks it up with a nod – she’s more than used to it. She slowly lowers herself down.<br/>
<br/>
“Perceptive,” Alyssa nods, leaning toward you. At first you think it’s to be conspiratorial, but then you realize it’s just so she can pull out a notepad shoved in her blazer side pocket. “I’m writing a piece on the sixth form crackdown. They’re going totally overboard. Aaaand I couldn’t help but hear you yell about your car privileges. So. Quote?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure,” you say. “It’s a load of hot garbage, is what it is. This is a school of gets-away-with-its and gets-punished-for-doing-nothing.” You puff out your cheeks. “Why should I have to ride the Bus of Shame? It bites. Sucks. Like a… bitey-sucky thing.”<br/>
<br/>
“A bitey-sucky thing.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m a science geek, not the writer! Mosquito. That’s a bitey-sucky thing. You can pep that up, right?”<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa sucks the end of her pen. “‘It… frustrates me that we aren’t doing enough to uncover the true culprit.’ Better?”<br/>
<br/>
“Doesn’t really have my own stamp, but it works.”<br/>
<br/>
“No one around here puts a stamp on things quite like you,” Alyssa says, before catching herself a beat. “At least, so I hear, anyway. You’ve a unique voice in the sixth form. Should use it more.” She grips her crutch and hauls herself off the seat. “Well, good chat. I’m going to get some more interviews done. See you around.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
A scream rings down the main corridor as you walk to lunch, gossiping with fake Niamh and fellow geek Aiden Nichols about the biology test coming up tomorrow. You look over, brushing the strawberry blonde mess that blocks your vision away. <i>Why didn’t I get a pixie cut like Niamh? Oh, that’s right. Because I don’t want to look like a receptionist. Love you girl, but c’mon…</i><br/>
<br/>
“First year prank?” Aiden asks, ears picking up as you watch a crowd form in front of you. <br/>
<br/>
“Sounds like it came from the girls’ bathroom,” Niamh says. You crane your head as you walk past, a mass of bodies in green blazers gather around the toilet entrance, as… someone takes a bow?<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, yeah. Thank you, thank you,” you hear Scott Ricci say. “Accidents happen. Thanks folks. Nothing to see here.” He laughs and shakes his head, Sean Ince and Jared van Camp leading him off, the latter slapping him on the head and grinning.<br/>
<br/>
“What happened?” Aiden asks one of the fifth form, watching as Scott’s trio take the next, near-identical door along, into the boys’ washrooms.<br/>
<br/>
“Idiot wasn’t paying attention. Walked straight into the ladies’ by mistake.” <br/>
<br/>
<i>Sure, a ‘mistake’. At least it’s in-character for Scott.</i> You snort when a blushing, red-faced Hannah McMaster – no doubt the source of the scream – steps out into the corridor.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“You ever think we should form a marching band?” you say, to no one in particular, as you sit in band practice, saxophone fastened over your shoulder. <br/>
<br/>
“What, like one of those ones that stomp up and down, playing tunes while making shapes?” Eric Murphy asks, sitting a few seats over with the rest of the strings. “And with those guys in the stupid hats who do twirling?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, the color guard,” you say, looking over the music. You have no idea how to read sheet music, but Mariah’s brain translates it all beautifully.<br/>
<br/>
“Jeez, Mariah! You can’t say that!” Portia Haas hisses, setting her flute down. “It’s racist.” <br/>
<br/>
You look at her, and slowly, roll your eyeballs, further and further, until it looks like they’re being sucked into your head. <i>Thanks, Portia Haas-to-flunk</i>. You keep quiet as at least three other members of the band explain the phrase "color guard" to her. In truth, there’s no way you could form a marching band. It’s common.<br/>
<br/>
The silence is broken by a tap of the conductor’s baton by Mr Greer. Everyone stops and looks up. “OK, everyone. We’re going to start with Bartok’s Swineherd’s Dance.”<br/>
<br/>
The baton twitches; the music begins. It soars, sweeping up into a rousing folk tune. You set the instrument to your lips, ready to come in the moment Greer’s baton flicks in your…<br/>
<br/>
Greer waves it off, the cacophony receding. “Loki Swain,” he shouts, looking over at a boy in the corner, eyes near-shut as if he’s dozing, very clearly not paying attention. “You feel like joining us?”<br/>
<br/>
<i>Loki Swain. Just his name makes my stomach twist a little.</i> Your lips tighten on the mouthpiece. He waltzes around with a magic air; nothing ever fazes him. <i>Wouldn't it be a twist, </i> you think, <i>if my girlfriend picked a disguise that my disguise has a crush on?</i><br/>
<br/>
“Ah, sorry, Mr G,” Loki says, giving a smile. “Just kind of, y’know. Forgot how to read music.” He blinks, concentrating for a moment, then gives a lazy thumbs up.<br/>
<br/>
Greer returns the thumbs up sarcastically. “All right, from the top…”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
10.30pm. You close Mariah’s notebook, pinch the bridge of her nose, and sigh, taking off your glasses and set them on her nightstand. You’re back on thirtieth, a homecooked meal in your belly. You open up the messenger on Mariah’s phone, sign in to your own account and hover her finger over the touchpad, trying to decide which name to send to Shelly.<br/>
<br/>
Fifteen names. But who was acting strangely today? And were they actually Niamh, or was it just chance?</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222112112112511
author_id: masktrixie
title: Going Alloway: Tuesday
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>MARIUS HALL</i>, you type. Niamh wouldn’t have had Marius’ memories by chapel, so would have had to bluff her way through his speech. Every phrase he used to describe the party instigator was masculine – and Niamh knew Todd was responsible.<br/>
<br/>
Shelly texts back almost immediately:<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sorry! :( :( :( :( :( I'd give u a hint but that'd be cheeating lol!<br/>
<br/>
Haven't heard from Niamh yet. She must be going crazy trying to find u lol and ur right under her nose!<br/>
<br/>
Best of luck to both of u.</i><br/>
<br/>
You close your phone and shift under the covers. Damn. Your best chance of catching her was while her memories were patchy.<br/>
<div align="center"><br/>
***</div><br/>
<br/>
You stand in your red coat, shivering along with the rest of the horde assembled outside St Francis Xavier Cathedral in the chill November morning. You’ve had to get up early just to make it to the pick-up for the Bus of Shame. The Pauper Wagon. You and your fellow sixth formers are a full head above most of the bus riders. With the exception of Gabriel Santos, who seems perfectly sanguine with the situation, you’re all a picture of discontent.<br/>
<br/>
“Am I the only one who’s going to say it?” Zero asks. One of your suspects, with a surname like that <i>nobody</i> calls him by his first name (Mariah didn’t even know it was Ken until you checked the intranet). “We all know who hosted the party. This is bullshit.”<br/>
<br/>
“Chill, brah,” Gabe Santos, another of your 14 remaining suspects, mutters, his breath creating clouds in the cold. “Nothing to be done. Four days on a bus ain’t a hardship compared with what’ll happen if you snitch. Honestly, I kinda missed the bus. It’s a nice change of pace for a few days.”<br/>
<br/>
Neither of them are saying anything that gives you a hint, so you pop your earbuds in and crank up the bootleg, Mariah’s lips muttering the odd lyric as you stomp out the cold in your toes. The Niamh golem convinced her parents for a ride, so it’s not like you have anyone to talk to.<br/>
<br/>
Once on the bus, you’re so preoccupied with trying to stay warm that you don’t see the figure who’s swung in beside you until she taps you on the shoulder. <i>Day student suspect number three: Roxanne Hurley</i>. Leather jacket on, blazer probably folded in her beaten rucksack, she oozes hipster chic.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s the Petrovics.”<br/>
<br/>
You pause your music. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s the Petrovics’ band, right? KC and her sister. Slow Fast Hazel. I was their keyboard player for about three weeks over the summer, before we realized my job at Monte Viso’s meant I’d miss gigs and practice.”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh,” you nod. “Yeah. I was at the concert a few weeks back at…”<br/>
<br/>
“I was there too.” She says. “Didn’t know they’d finally uploaded something.”<br/>
<br/>
You scratch a little awkwardly behind your ear. “Uh… they… haven’t. Or I don’t know if they have, anyway. It’s a bootleg.”<br/>
<br/>
Roxanne gives a nod of frowned admiration. “Cool,” she says. “Can I get in on this?”<br/>
<br/>
“Huh?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mind if I sit with you, listen too? Send it over.”<br/>
<br/>
<i>Roxanne Hurley thinks I’m cool.</i> It’s a little buzz that’s made Mariah’s month as you open up your iPad to airdrop the music over.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You’re at a desk in the Stables, trying to work out how to get more time on campus, when you’re interrupted by what sounds like an accusation: “You are good at math.”<br/>
<br/>
You glance up. Mathilde Ambard looks down at you. Her pursed lips aren’t exactly smiling, but then they rarely are. Elfin, with cheeks that taper into a nub of a jaw, she’s fresh from the brisk walk outside, a wool knit hat perched stylishly over dark brown hair. <br/>
<br/>
<i>She’s so French. Damn, I should have spoken to her yesterday morning! Shelly and I struggled with accents, so Niamh would have been faking a throat infection or going ‘Oo-la-la, iz zis over ze top?’ One chat and I could have eliminated her as a suspect.</i><br/>
<br/>
“I dabble,” you grin, with all the self-confidence Mariah possesses but does not deserve. Mathilde gives no sign of acknowledgment.<br/>
<br/>
“We are holding a study group tomorrow for physics. Myself, Kate, Dalton, some others. You are going to join us.” Mathilde’s English is near-perfect; you’re not sure if she just phrased things wrong or is giving you an order. <i>Three of my suspects in one place, and Dalton doesn’t even take physics… wait. He could be working on his Navy entrance exam. </i><br/>
<br/>
“Can’t,” you say apologetically. “No car privileges, I’m going to have to get the Bus of Shame home.” As much as it’s the perfect chance to get more time to find Niamh, there’s no way Mariah would agree. You’d be busted in a heartbeat.<br/>
<br/>
Mathilde looks at you with incomprehension. “Get a taxi.”<br/>
<br/>
“To Saratoga Falls? It must be, like, 50 bucks.”<br/>
<br/>
Still, that unblinking incomprehension only the French can manage. “So?”<br/>
<br/>
“And― Do you not get the exchange rate or something? I’m not going to spend 50 bucks to hang back a few hours and study with you guys.” <br/>
<br/>
The look of withering contempt that ripples across Mathilde’s face, from her sculpted cheeks to her small, tight mouth, is remarkable. Then she shrugs. “Fine. I’ll pay for your taxi. And I suppose your dinner too.” She gets out her purse, a flash of iconic YSL on its metal clasp, and pulls out a bill. It has Ben Franklin on it – $100 – and she casts it down as if it were a quarter. “We meet from 7pm until 9pm, while Kate takes study hall.” She gives you the barest, briefest smile. “See you then.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“I need your help.” You’re at the vending machine trying to fish out a granola bar when Kristen Wright-Wallace falls against the glass, speaking very quietly so no one else can hear. You look startled. <i>I’m not going to ignore another suspect falling into my hands. </i><br/>
<br/>
“You do?” Mariah’s voice makes it sound like you’re an agent and handler meeting in a park. Maybe the game of hide and seek is getting to you.<br/>
<br/>
Kristen looks nervous and darts her eyes around so no one can see. “I need you to smuggle something in for me. I’ve run out.”<br/>
<br/>
You scrunch your brow. “Forget it. I’m not getting Abi whatever she told you to ask me for.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, no, no!” Kristen waves the idea off. Her emotions seem genuine: a mix of fear and desperation. Either it’s real, or Niamh is a good actress. “It’s not about Abi or Vee. You <i>cannot</i> tell them. I just figure you might understand, is all.”<br/>
<br/>
Your curiosity is piqued. “Go on.” <br/>
<br/>
Biting her lip, yet more nervy glances around, Kristen turns over her smartphone. “I need someone to bring me this.” You look at the image on screen. It’s a tub of powder for a weight loss shake, part of a meal replacement program. “You know what it’s like. You’re, uh,” she gestures, “bigger, too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Plus size, Kristen. The term is plus size.” Mariah’s breast flushes with annoyance. She’s not self-conscious of her curves at all and your Will mind quite enjoys having something to jiggle, but nobody likes to be called fat.<br/>
<br/>
“Right, plus size, sorry. Shit, Vee’s coming.” She fumbles her phone back into her blazer, and looks at you desperately. “Strawberry or banana, I don’t mind. Anything but the chocolate one. Please. And don’t say anything.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“OK, you cannot tell anyone else, but I can’t keep this in any longer.” You’re in your sports kit, stood with Niamh’s golem on the side of the track. Sports are compulsory, but sometimes you can get away with doing very little. “Kristen asked me to get her diet shakes. Because, apparently, I am big too.”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh looks aghast, but bursts out laughing when she can see how funny you find it. Mariah’s anger has long subsided, replaced with amusement. “I know!” you continue. “I was like, WHAT?”<br/>
<br/>
“Lookin’ sporty, ladies,” Michael Boateng says as he jogs past, stretching as part of his warm-up. The guy is about 80% muscle, his dark skin taught over bulging biceps. There’s a reason you decided to stand here. <br/>
<br/>
“We’re sporty,” you call back. As if to demonstrate, you pick up a water bottle and fake doing bicep curls. Niamh falls in too, doing a faux discus throw with a handful of training cones. Michael slows down and grins. He looks about to say something when Lucas Tanner rushes up. <br/>
<br/>
“Mike, we doing this?” he asks. Still annoyed. He’s been in a bad mood for two days, and Mariah can’t ever remember Lucas being mad for five minutes. Boateng glances back.<br/>
<br/>
“Sure, Lucas. Sure. Ladies, you mind being our starters? Lucas thinks he can take me in the hundred.”<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and set the water bottle down as the two runners amble up to the line. “On your marks… get set… GO!”<br/>
<br/>
The two take off down the track. The first 25 is close, but Boateng is comfortably ahead by the halfway point, and even showboats by pulling up and jogging the final five metres. Lucas is still moody, but a good loser. <br/>
<br/>
“Thanks, ladies,” Michael says with a light pant, dropping into a dab. And, just to showboat a little more, he throws in a few press ups as Lucas jogs off again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Your evening is a long, incredibly tedious slog through Mariah’s photography homework, trying to edit a portfolio from several hundred mundane shots she took around town at the weekend. Fortunately, AerisLives777 finally pings on at around 9pm, and you get to play online with Niamh – or at least the fake – for an hour and a half. You’re still going at 10.30, when you open up another window. You need to give a name to Shelly.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221121121125111
author_id: masktrixie
title: Going Alloway: Wednesday
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>ROXANNE HURLEY</i>, you type. Niamh going upstairs to the boarders could have been a misdirection, and it’d be just like her to try and make her best friend feel good by granting her approval from a cool kid. <br/>
<br/>
The reply flies back near-instantly:<br/>
<i>Bzzzzzt!!!! Sorry! But Niamh guessed wrong too. Not even close lol!<br/>
<br/>
Wish I knew who this Roxanne girl was. More fun for me.</i><br/>
<br/>
You close the window and slap the desk. Thirteen suspects remain, and Mariah won’t ever know Roxanne genuinely thinks she’s cool. You need to be more proactive in your investigation.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“What’s up with you, Mariah?” Hallie Lamb asks from across the chemistry bench, safety specs on. For the past five minutes you’ve been feeding wooden splints into a Bunsen burner while Hallie has actually been doing the work. You know you’ve slipped out of character, but today has been a complete bust. The remaining suspects are completely elusive. Sometimes you share a class with them, but there’s never an opportunity to chat.<br/>
<br/>
“Just not in the mood,” you say sulkily.<br/>
<br/>
Hallie nods as another splint goes up in flames. "Tell me about it. The stress. Mid-terms and applications. Everyone's going crazy." She leans in. "Some of them literally," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"Who's going crazy?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"Frances Washington," Hallie promptly replies. "Been like a mouse since she transferred to Xavier's, hardly spoken a word. But this week? Like a switch's been flipped. She’s joined the drama club, is trying out for first team soccer, and gossiping no end in class.”<br/>
<br/>
"That's not crazy," you reply even as you make a note of it. "Gossip takes up half our school day."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what does it say about Frances," Hallie retorts, "that what's normal for us is crazy for her?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
The day ends, but your time on campus isn’t over yet. Mathilde’s invitation to the study group means you’ve got a perfect excuse to stick around after school to watch and observe. And you’ve also got a great reason to go snooping.<br/>
<br/>
At around 5.45pm, the coast is clear. You dart up the stairs to the main dorms. You don’t have long, but you give a cursory look, trying to see if anything’s amiss. No luck. Instead, you sneak down to G8, right at the end of the corridor, and knock on the door. Kristen Wright-Wallace opens it.<br/>
<br/>
“Quiet!” She says in a hushed whisper. “Vee’s not around, but Abi’s in her room.”<br/>
<br/>
You open your bag, and hand over a tub of Strawberry milkshake powder. She’s so thankful you feel bad taking the folded bills she shoves in your hand before waving goodbye in silence. <br/>
<br/>
You’re just exiting the girls block and about to head down the stairs when there’s a noise from just around the corner. Spinning, you watch as, a few doors down, Loki Swain stumbles out of the boys shower room, towel around his midriff, dressing gown loose and bare chest exposed. Most striking of all, he’s thrown a towel around his head too, tying it up to dry his hair. It’s a move you’ve only ever seen girls do. <i> And exactly like Niamh used to do,</i>, Mariah’s memories tell you, <i>before she cut off her curls last year.</i><br/>
<br/>
But tapping into Mariah’s memories mean her urges are overwhelming. You almost choke on your own tongue. <i>The Loki thirst is real.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Oh, hey,” Loki says, looking at you with a complete lack of embarrassment. “Didn’t know you were a boarder. Cool.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, I’m not. Just running an errand. Better make myself scarce.”<br/>
<br/>
“Cool. Well, I’m going to go to my room.” He points down the corridor. There’s an uncomfortable pause. “You comin’?”<br/>
<br/>
You blink. “Is that an option?”<br/>
<br/>
Loki laughs, but kindly; a chuckle at a shared joke, rather than seeing you as one. “Nah, prefects would kill me. Just playing. Later.” And, without a second thought, strides along the corridor without a care.<br/>
<br/>
You take a breath, try to compose Mariah’s mind, and head downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
The study hall is packed. Normally, the prefect on duty – Kate, in this instance, with Marius overseeing a second batch of lower forms in the dining hall – is sat at the desk alone. But exceptions are granted for actual study, so today she’s joined by a party of five: Mathilde Ambard, Dalton Reeves, Emily Dustal, Tom Orpen... and you. <br/>
<br/>
Sadly, if you were hoping for clues, none are forthcoming: the first hour is full-on study, with Kate occasionally getting up to patrol the lower forms. Mariah’s brain is useful in some respects, but increasingly you find your own knowledge comes to the fore. It turns out all those astronomy classes Will Prescott sat in makes you the table’s expert on gravitational forces. It’s not until after 8pm that the conversation relaxes a little and everyone starts talking freely.<br/>
<br/>
“So, where are you thinking of applying?” Kate asks to the table. A perfectly innocent question, but one that could reveal much. You ignore the answers from anyone not on your suspect list.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll attend the Sorbonne,” Mathilde says as if it’s already agreed, not a doubt in her mind. <br/>
<br/>
“Annapolis,” Dalton replies, to the groans of everyone – the whole table knows where he intends to go. He’s talked about it, to the exclusion of having a personality, for six years. <i>Both gave the obvious answer – snooty French university and the military. Not helpful. So let’s try and smoke Niamh out.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Actually, I have no idea,” you announce. Mariah’s always told Niamh her dream was Northwestern. “I had a plan, but… I think we’re on plan B now.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you not good enough for Chicago?” Mathilde asks bluntly. <i>How did she know that? Someone could have told her, but why would she remember?</i><br/>
<br/>
“Harsh,” Kate interjects.<br/>
<br/>
“My GPA slipped, is all. Hence taking photography. It’s an easy A.”<br/>
<br/>
“I thought you were good at math.” Once again, Mathilde’s words sound like an accusation. Maybe it’s the accent.<br/>
<br/>
“I am,” you say, playing up Mariah’s own discomfort. “But I’m struggling with— Y’know, let’s just—We’re focusing on physics. Let’s do physics.” You drive Mariah’s thoughts through your brain, like hotwiring a car, playing on them to make yourself more and more flustered. “I’ll… be right back.”<br/>
<br/>
You get up and dart down the corridor, towards the girls’ bathroom, and slip inside a cubicle. Squeezing Mariah’s emotions like a lemon, you make the tears come free and easy, just in time for the footfall that echoes in the room. <i>Niamh would rush to see her friend. Whoever this is becomes suspect number one.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Mariah?” The voice is soft and gentle. <i>Kate Gross.</i><br/>
<br/>
“I’m OK,” you say, sniffing just enough to make it clear you’re not.<br/>
<br/>
“Do we have to chat through a toilet door?”<br/>
<br/>
You sigh and hit the bolt. Kate stands there, eyes wreathed in genuine sympathy. She looks at you, at Mariah, at your most vulnerable. <br/>
<br/>
“Mathilde didn’t mean it,” she says, smiling. “She doesn’t realize she’s being rude. It’s just how Europeans talk.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s not what bothers me,” you reply. <br/>
<br/>
Kate leans back against a sink. “It was the idea you’re not good enough.” You give a slow nod. It’s a thought that haunts Mariah. Her parents expect her to excel, and won’t accept anything less. “Mariah, that’s nonsense. You’ve led us tonight. Dalton can’t even remember the direction of magnetic force without using his fingers.”<br/>
<br/>
“The right hand rule,” you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
“See!” She smiles. “We invited you for a reason. And we’re on your side. Everyone in the sixth form knows you. Only yesterday, Alyssa Erikson was saying how you were the first person she went to for comment on the prefect meeting.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry I yelled at you on Monday,” you say. “I get you had to be seen to make a clamp-down. Marius is so sexist though. ‘Man up’, ‘have the balls’. He never used to talk like that. It irked me.”<br/>
<br/>
Kate gives a nervy glance at the door. “I know!” she hisses. “He used to be much sweeter. I think his dad’s pushing him hard into the young Republicans. And between you and I, the prefect meeting was <i>not</i> unanimous. Todd didn’t even turn up until the end, when we’d already decided. Lucas and Marius came in together, looked like they’d been arguing beforehand. Then Lucas was straight at Dalton’s throat over something. Abi and I both wanted to go easy on everyone, but Dalton had started dorm sweeps on Saturday, so we had no choice to escalate things even further. Exeats only hit boarders, and Dalton is convinced day students were present, too. So that’s why we had to revoke parking. I’m really sorry. I know you weren’t involved.”<br/>
<br/>
That’s a lot of information to take in. Todd Baldwin’s late arrival is mysterious, and could be because Niamh replaced him. But you haven’t really spoken to him for the past three days – and you still haven’t really spoken to Gabriel Santos, Frances Washington, Scott Ricci or Zero, either. You’ll have to focus on them tomorrow. And how did Dalton know who was at the party? Unless Dalton is Niamh – who was at the center of it, dancing away disguised as Abigail Steiner. <br/>
<br/>
But, crucially, Lucas Tanner was talking to Marius Hall while Niamh was finding someone to replace. You’ve already ruled out Marius, so now you can cross Lucas off, too. You’re down to 12 names and, as you reluctantly let Kate cheer you up, you wonder which name you’re going to offer up to Shelly when you get home.</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211211211251114
author_id: masktrixie
title: Going Alloway: Thursday Morning
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>KATE GROSS.</i> Kate was probably genuine in trying to cheer Mariah up, but you honestly have no clue where Niamh is hiding. You’re fast running out of options and time, so you’ll have to throw a Hail Mary tonight.<br/>
<br/>
<i>MISS!!!</i> Shelly texts back a few minutes later. <i>Omg having such a hard time not giving hints like ::sun emoji:: or ::snowflake emoji::! But I'm not helping Niamh either. Her guesses are all over the freakin place!</i><br/>
<br/>
Two more days and still 11 suspects. Your odds are less than one in five.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You review your suspect list as you board the Bus of Shame. Of the prefects, only Todd Baldwin and Dalton Reeves remain suspects. Next, the boarders. Loki Swain hasn’t really been out of his admittedly dopey character all week. Nor has Michael Boateng or Alyssa Erikson, although the latter has been singing Mariah’s praises and she barely knows her.<br/>
<br/>
Scott Ricci walked into the girls’ bathroom on Monday, but otherwise you haven’t seen him, and Frances Washington is behaving strangely. You need to investigate both today. The final two boarders, Kristen Wright-Wallace and Mathilde Ambard, have both gone out of their way to talk to Mariah with some pretty unusual requests. But, you decide, they both had good reasons. <i>I really need to ask someone if Mathilde’s accent was missing on Monday... but who?</i><br/>
<br/>
The two remaining suspects, both day students, are riding with you: Gabriel Santos and Ken Zero. They seem the least likely – you saw Niamh head upstairs and she had no reason to think you were watching – but you can’t rule them out.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey Gabe,” you say, flopping down into a seat next to him. Today’s a particularly biting morn, so you’re sporting your red jacket, beret and your gloves. “Cold, huh?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, wouldn’t want to be you tonight,” he says.<br/>
<br/>
“Why not?”<br/>
<br/>
“Swim practice. You’re going to take a dunk then step out into the night air, waiting for the bus. Hair soakin’, freezing.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll use a hair dryer, Gabe. And aren’t you going to shower after training too? Because if not, that’s vile.”<br/>
<br/>
“Course I am. But,” he leans over and ruffles his short, black hair, “this is easier to dry. Your pal Niamh’s onto something.” <br/>
<br/>
<i>God, wouldn’t it be just like Niamh to boast about her haircut as someone else?</i> Fortunately you have the perfect Mariah counter. Time to play it. <br/>
<br/>
“That haircut makes her look like a receptionist.”<br/>
<br/>
You look directly at Gabe, trying to pick up even the slightest flicker of piqued annoyance. But if it’s there, it’s hidden behind Gabe’s surprise.<br/>
<br/>
“Ouch. I thought you were her friend.”<br/>
<br/>
“I am. I love Niamh to death. I would get into a knife fight for her. But that haircut? C’mon. It’s worse than when Jack Bright dyed his hair some sort of blue-black and ended up like a manager at Hot Topic.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I like it.” Gabe shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
“You should tell her,” you say, deciding to change tack.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah? Why, think she’s into me?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, not as a pick up line! I just mean tell her as a friend. She’s got a boyfriend now, dating a guy from Westside. If you were interested, that ship has sailed.”<br/>
<br/>
“Westside, huh?” Gabe glances out the window. “That’s where I would have gone if I hadn’t been given a place at St. X. Where most of the guys from my neighborhood go. What’s this boyfriend’s name?”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh, Will…” you feign trying to come up with your own surname. “Something. Seemed cute. In a squirrelly kind of way.”<br/>
<br/>
Gabe thinks a moment. “Nah, don’t know any Wills. And chill, I’m not interested in breaking up two lovebirds. I just think you’re harsh on her pixie cut. It’s distinctive. Makes her look like a university chick.”<br/>
<br/>
You spend the rest of the ride in silence. You haven’t decided if Gabe is really Niamh or not… but he’s given you a great idea how to find out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You have no excuse to be upstairs. But then nor did Niamh on Monday morning, and her mission was definitely a success. So, at first break you head across from the school proper to Founder’s Hall and slip up the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
<i>OK,</i>, you think, <i>whose room is where?</i>. As Chris Fiore, your room was B10, pretty much in the middle of the hall, but he and his roommate, Mark Pederson, aren’t suspects, so you turn toward the west wing instead. You’re nosing around, looking for an open door, when― jackpot! You can see a track meet pennant pinned over one of the beds. <i>Michael Boateng</i>. With a nervous glance in either direction, you push the door open. Empty.<br/>
<br/>
Slyly, spryly, you slip inside and push the door closed. It’s a typical boys room: a faint funk of something, heavily masked by a choking cloud of deodorant; a sink with toothpaste scum around the drain; and a desk cluttered with too many papers and too few pens. Sink first. There are two hairbrushes. You close your eyes and try to conjure up an image of Michael’s roommate from Mariah’s brain, but she has no idea who he bunks with. So, instead, you turn to Michael’s bed and peel back the covers, looking at the pillow below.<br/>
<br/>
Gabe gave you a great idea. You remember from your days as Shelly Nolan – doesn’t that feel a year ago? – that hair separated from a person under a mask vanished; you noticed when you were untangling that insane length of ginger hair each morning. It’s why you agreed to test each other by snipping your hair, before Shelly went and―<br/>
<br/>
You let the thought hang as you hunch down and scrabble about Michael’s pillow, running your hand along it. For a brief moment you can’t find anything. Then, checking your palm, you see a dark, curling clutch of afro hair. St X. forces students to change bedding each week and collects on Saturdays. This was left during the week. Michael Boateng is exactly who he appears to be.<br/>
<br/>
But at least you’re down to ten names.<br/>
<br/>
You step outside, and are gently pulling the door shut when— "What are you doing up here?"<br/>
<br/>
You whip around. Todd Baldwin is swaggering up from the direction of the stairs. He always looks a little thuggish, but now he mainly looks quizzical.<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing to do with you, Todd.”<br/>
<br/>
“Check the tie, Alloway. I’m a prefect. So, what are you doing up here?”<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit shit shit</i>. You try and come up with a reason. “I was running an errand.”<br/>
<br/>
“An errand?” Baldwin blocks the stair and smiles like a spider who’s just caught a fly. “What kind of errand?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mathilde asked me to bring something for her last night. Not contraband, wasn’t a big deal, so I picked it up from Walmart before I caught the bus.”<br/>
<br/>
“So,” Baldwin says. “Mathilde Ambard – who, last time I checked, is in G3 in the east wing – sent you to give her something in the men’s dorms?”<br/>
<br/>
You give Mariah’s best look of confusion. “She said B3. Bee.” You point. You’re standing right outside the room you supposedly mistook for hers. “Darn it. She’s got that ridiculous accent. I can never get what she’s saying. Explains why she’s not in. I’m sorry Todd.”<br/>
<br/>
He seems to buy your explanation, but still holds up his hands. “Whoa, whoa. You heard Marius on Monday. I’m supposed to do contraband sweeps. What’d she ask you for?”<br/>
<br/>
<i> Say ‘women’s things’. Don’t even say it, just allude to it. One mention of anything like that and Todd, or any guy, will RUN.</i> You chew Mariah’s lip and bury the thought. You have an even better idea.<br/>
<br/>
“Cough syrup. You’ve got classes with her. Didn’t you hear her on Monday? She sounded like the girl in <i>The Exorcist</i>. She’s more or less got her voice back, but she’s still a little husky.”<br/>
<br/>
Todd's eyes narrow, and he holds out his hand. "Show me the bottle."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Busted!</i> "What?" you stammer. "I— I don't have it on me. I was just stopping by to tell Mathilde that I got it, that I can give it to her later. Jeez, I don't carry—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to have to make a note of this, Alloway," Todd says. There's a gleam of triumph in his eye. "First, that you're up here without good reason—"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you—!"<br/>
<br/>
"—because, second, Ambard gave a thirty-minute oral presentation Monday, and I didn't notice anything wrong with her voice."<br/>
<br/>
Your cheeks burn.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine!" you spit. "Make a note! Wanna strip search me too?"<br/>
<br/>
Todd smirks, but tells you to move along. He's taking out his cell phone as you wheel for the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
You're halfway down when a sudden terror clutches your gut: <i>What if Todd is texting Shelly to say he's figured out who you're hiding out at school as?</i><br/>
<br/>
Your knees tremble. If you text Shelly <i>right now</i> with Todd's name, maybe you can beat Niamh, or at least make it a tie. But if you're wrong, you'd have wasted an accusation on the flimsiest evidence yet.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you should just keep collecting hair samples from the remaining suspects. If you can hit the right one, you could still wrap this game up today. It's as accurate as the blood test in <i>The Thing</i>, and it isn’t against any of Niamh’s rules.<br/>
<br/>
But then again, Niamh doesn’t know you can use loose hair to test for someone under a mask. It’s an unfair advantage, and not really in the spirit of the game.</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222112112112511143
author_id: masktrixie
title: Going Alloway: Thursday Afternoon
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You have little choice but to sit tight. If Todd <i>is</i> Niamh, she’s beaten you already. And while the hair test is great, this is only a bit of fun, isn’t it? Either way, you’ll know where you stand tonight. If Niamh guesses wrong, it more or less (with some room for doubt) eliminates Todd Baldwin and Mathilde Ambard. That leaves eight suspects and two guesses remaining. Your chances have shot up to a measly one in four.<br/>
<br/>
The first period after lunch, you get your biology test back from Tuesday. A solid B. Not really what Mariah was hoping for, but not a disaster, either. There are a couple of As in the class though; Niamh, to the surprise of no one… and Scott Ricci. The two managed to get virtually identical scores. You make a move to ask him how he did it, but the moment the bell goes he’s away with Sean and Jared and the opportunity slips. He’ll have to wait until tomorrow.<br/>
<div align="center"> <br/>
***</div><br/>
<br/>
“You’re my photographer?” Alyssa Erikson leans onto her crutch as you approach, a DSLR around your neck.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a self-evident question, so you just give an enigmatic shrug; why else would you be walking with near a thousand dollars of camera?<br/>
<br/>
“So, what I’m thinking is, I do the interview, they do a few scenes, you take a few snaps. Work for you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure,” you say as you head into the theater. Zero is waiting there, along with Frances Washington. <i>Three suspects in one place. Perfect.</i> That’s why, when Mr Winn asked for a volunteer to snap the newly selected cast of this term’s play, of course you put your hand up.<br/>
<br/>
“Where you want us?” Zero asks. He’s taken off his blazer and is lounging against one of the ridged corners. The school has its own theater-in-the-round, complete with LED light rigs and control booth, and the two figures seem comically isolated in the wide space. Alyssa looks at you.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh, in that corner? Try and play around on the height of the space, give it a little depth?”<br/>
<br/>
Zero nods, and hops to his feet. “Of course! Anything for the press!” He laughs, and throws himself into a dramatic pose. “Something like this, perhaps?”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe we should just get on and act it?” Frances interjects.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, Zero. Don’t try and pose, just let it flow,” you agree. “And hi, I don’t think we’ve met? I’m Mariah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fran,” the girl says, bounding down. Any mousiness has well and truly passed. “Great to meet you.”<br/>
<br/>
“We’ve met before,” Alyssa interjects. “Your first or second day, I think?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh yeah, sorry,” Fran says. “I was kind of quiet. But that’s what happens when you transfer in your final year.”<br/>
<br/>
“How come you did that, anyway?” Zero asks, pushing a little. Fran shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
“Sucked off my English teacher.” <br/>
<br/>
You all blink. She just stares with world-weary resignation. <br/>
<br/>
“What? You think I haven’t heard the rumors? Apparently I was also chucked out of Bosworth because I took the motor shop’s hotrod for a joyride, set fire to my dorm room, and was arrested in an international drug sting.”<br/>
<br/>
“So which was it?”<br/>
<br/>
Fran glares at Alyssa. "I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s no one’s business. Now, c’mon, can we do this thing?”<br/>
<br/>
You lift the camera up and turn it on, framing Zero and Fran as they begin to do various melodramatic, overblown poses for the school’s Christmas production of <i>Sweet Charity</i>. <br/>
<br/>
Evidently Frances has acting chops, and must be able to sing a little, or she’d never have been cast. It feels like Niamh wouldn’t have taken on such a disguise… although maybe, in trying to probe the mystery of Frances Washington, she’d stumbled on talents she doesn’t possess herself. As Fran launches into a song and you take as many snaps as possible, you can’t help but wonder: if you suddenly had the ability to sing like her, could you resist holding it in?<br/>
<br/>
By the time the period has ended, you’ve got more than enough snaps for the magazine, while Alyssa has a few choice quotes to paste into her article for the magazine. You both head off to your respective classes, gossiping a little as you navigate the halls.   <br/>
<br/>
It’s then you see another of your final suspects coming the other way. Kristen Wright-Wallace, head bowed, is hurrying after Abigail Steiner, the hawkish features of Vee Macklin on the other flank. You step aside as they pass, Abi giving you a cheery smile, while you try and avoid eye contact. <i>Hypno eyes,</i> Mariah’s brain confirms, <i>are definitely a thing.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Looks things are back to normal,” Alyssa says at your side. “Shame.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, come on! I thought hanging with Hallie you’d be as plugged in to the rumor mill as I am!” Alyssa tilts her head. “When Abi left the Halloween party – so my sources tell me – Kristen was in a total state. Somehow she pulled it around. Most of the sixth formers who were there say, once Abi was gone, it was like a weight had been lifted, she started laughing and joking. Carried it through this week, too. In the dining hall on Monday, she told Abi she’ll have whatever damn lunch she wants. Abi was doing that good girl routine of hers, couldn’t say anything back. Doesn’t look like Kristen 2.0 lasted, though.”<br/>
<br/>
“Huh,” you say. “Shame.” <i>Was it Kristen that told Abi to back off, or Niamh?</i> You remember how guilty Niamh felt about everything she said to Kristen when she was Abi. Maybe good, old fashioned Catholic guilt prompted her to choose her as a disguise. And if Vee Macklin was behind you in the queue for coffee on Monday, then Kristen was definitely alone in her room – the swap would have been easy…<br/>
<br/>
“This is where we part,” Alyssa says as you pass the English rooms. “I’ve got my scoop, time to get it typed up. Talk to you tomorrow.” She pivots the crutch and heads off into one of the classes. You watch as she goes, then look at the winnowed list of names on your iPad. Kristen has just shot up your list of suspects… but it’s not enough evidence yet.<br/>
<br/>
But there’s something gnawing you about Alyssa, too. Maybe you’re remembering it wrong, or maybe she alternates depending on how she’s feeling, but you could have sworn on Monday she used the crutch with her left arm, not her right.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Swim practice. Mariah’s surprisingly nimble in the water. Today, however, Coach Upson wants to work on stamina. So you spend an age chugging up and down the pool until you’re short of breath, then doing even more. The pool isn’t full size, and it’s impossible to tell the time with only a minute counter spinning around. So, by the time you’re finished changing, rubbed the chlorine from a leaky pair of goggles out of your eyes and wrapped yourself up in multiple layers… you’re just in time to see the last bus for Saratoga Falls depart.<br/>
<br/>
<i>God dammit.</i> You trudge back to Founder’s Hall, where it’s at least warm, and think about what to do. Mariah’s parents’ dental practice holds its late hours on Thursday and you don’t have the taxi fare. You’re stuck at St Xavier’s.<br/>
<br/>
“Alloway,” you glance up. Dalton Reeves is making his way down the corridor toward you, straight as a ramrod. You can feel Mariah groan inwardly. This is not going to make your life easier. “Why are you still on the premises?”<br/>
<br/>
You give him a fixed, irritable stare. “Because the bus doesn’t wait if you have to dry your hair, and my parents work until eight on Thursdays. So, thanks to you and your stupid-ass car ban, I’m trapped here. I hope you’re happy.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can’t make exceptions,” he says, with his usual stiffness. <br/>
<br/>
“Spare me,” you say. “Your punishment is stupid. I wasn’t at the party. I wouldn’t want to be at the party. I don’t care who was at the party. I am a little damp, a little tired, and I want to go home.” You have no idea if Niamh is Dalton or not, but you’re <i>done</i> with today.<br/>
<br/>
“This isn’t about punishing the guilty,” he explains. “It’s about deterring them from ever attempting something again. Even if they try and arrange a shindig, how many people are going to go along with it now?”<br/>
<br/>
“I honestly don’t care.”<br/>
<br/>
Dalton, for a moment, looks surprisingly sympathetic. Then he does something you don’t expect. His hand juts out and he clicks his fingers, halting a passing student in the corridor.<br/>
<br/>
“Adam Edwards,” he says. “You still want that exeat for tonight? I’ll sign it on one condition: you drop Miss Alloway here off in town.” The fifth year looks thrilled, Dalton looks inscrutable, and you look confused.<br/>
<br/>
“I thought exeats were…”<br/>
<br/>
“Banned for the <i>sixth</i> form, Alloway. Edwards is one of the few in the <i>fifth form</i> with his own set of wheels.” He gets out an officious looking pad and signs a sheet on the top. “Meet Miss Alloway out front in ten, Edwards. Dismissed.” He gives a smile as Adam heads off, sheet in hand, to get his things from the third floor. “Thank you for your help yesterday, especially on the astrophysics. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”<br/>
<br/>
You begin to say thank you, but Dalton waves you away. “It’s not just about the orders, it’s also about how you interpret them. Have a good night.”<br/>
<br/>
It’s a strange turn to a strange day. You have no idea if Niamh was Todd and has already identified you, but you have to give Shelly a name. You think you’ve narrowed it down to three. If you’re right, you’ve got a 66% chance – although one of your prime suspects needs further investigation tomorrow. For now, you concentrate on the students you encountered today.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221121121125111431
author_id: masktrixie
title: Going Alloway: Friday
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Dalton Reeves. The last prefect on your list of suspects. A little obvious, maybe, but an easy role for Niamh to fake throughout Monday. All she had to do was march around, barking like a Doberman, so it's not like she needed his memories to fake her way through. Also, he didn't have to arrange a ride back to Saratoga Falls, but he did anyway. It would have been a Niamh move, regardless of who was stuck at the school.<br/>
<br/>
So even though it's still only early evening, you text his name to Shelly. You close your eyes as Adam Edwards steers his car toward the highway.<br/>
<br/>
The reply comes just as you hit Saratoga Falls.<br/>
<br/>
<i> YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!! WINNER WINNER!!!!! YOU ARE SO FREAKIN’ AWESOME!!!!!</i><br/>
<br/>
The phone lights up in a cascade of celebratory emojis, gifs and icons. You laugh at the glow from your cell, even as Adam focuses on the road ahead.<br/>
<br/>
<i> Don’t tell Niamh,</i> you text back quickly. <i>I’ll surprise her tomorrow.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“Hey Dalton, you got a minute?” you manage to catch him in the corridor shortly before chapel, herding the lower forms like a sheep dog.<br/>
<br/>
“Not really, Alloway. I said last night wasn’t a big deal.” He keeps his eyes on his charges.<br/>
<br/>
“Not about that,” you say. “It’s about Loki. I think he’s high or something.”<br/>
<br/>
Dalton pauses and looks at you. <br/>
<br/>
“He just started calling me ‘Niamh’. I mean, I get I hang out with her, but we’re not exactly identical twins.”<br/>
<br/>
“Probably nothing,” Dalton says. “Loki’s a space cadet at the best of times.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s <i>more than that</i>,” you push. “He’s been kooky all week, I’m really worried about him. C’mon.” You know Niamh knows her friend lusts for Loki, so it’s easy enough to convince Dalton to follow you into the formal dining hall. You let him step in, and then close the heavy wood door. It’s a fancy space, with thick carpet, wainscoting and oil paintings. The window is even stained glass.<br/>
<br/>
“All right, Alloway. Make this quick. What’s up with Loki?” Dalton’s arms are folded. You grin.<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing,” you reply chirpily. “Although Mariah barely stops thinking about him. I just needed you in private to tell you I texted your name to Shelly last night.”<br/>
<br/>
You’re expecting Niamh’s smile to burst from Dalton’s semi-scowl. But it doesn’t. <i> Does she not get the game is over? </i><br/>
<br/>
“It’s over, Niamh. I’m Will. I’ve won.”<br/>
<br/>
Dalton shakes his head in incomprehension. “No. No, this isn’t― No, Will.”<br/>
<br/>
“’Fraid so!” you laugh, skipping forward. “Mariah was perfect. Cut straight through the school groups. Of course, your crackdown made everything harder than it had to be. Do you know what an ass grind it’s been trying to investigate boarders when I have to take the Bus of Shame?” You flick your hair and stride seductively over, cupping one of your breasts. “But, yesterday evening, it all clicked into place.” <br/>
<br/>
You get up on tiptoes and plant a kiss on Dalton’s lips. It’s like kissing worms desperately wiggling free. His much stronger arms push you away.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh God no! That’s like snogging my sister!” Dalton’s face looks like he’s swallowed a lemon. But if you want to laugh, the glare coming from his eyes makes you catch yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Niamh? It's only a game."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's wrong! <i>That's</i> what it is, Will!" His voice, normally a lusty baritone, rises to a girlish shriek. "I mean, Jesus! Mariah? <i>My best friend?</i> No! Verboten! Banned! Why the hell did you pick her?"<br/>
<br/>
“She wasn’t against the rules,” you say.<br/>
<br/>
“Some things are implied!” Dalton looks away, pacing a little. “I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid!”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be a sore loser. You should have got me on Wednesday. Since when does Mariah know anything about astrophysics? I had to resist feeding you all the baloney popping into her brain. And―”<br/>
<br/>
“Not what I mean, Will Prescott!” Dalton’s most furious prefect scowl is in evidence. “You had <i>eighty</i> people to choose from, and you chose my <i>best friend in the world</i>! When did you replace her? I left her in the games room, and she was down by the coffee machine for― Oh my God! You were her in the car, weren’t you! That’s why she was late picking me up! When she asked me about Will, it was <i>you,</i> pestering me to describe <i>yourself!</i>”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s what she would have done,” you say. “I was in character. I didn’t mean to cross the line.”<br/>
<br/>
“Cross the line? <i>Cross the line?</i> You can’t even see the line anymore! There are five people in this world I care about, Will: my mam, my da, my sister, Shelly and Mariah. You turned one of them to stone and replaced her with a goblin, then stole the face of another!”<br/>
<br/>
You try and speak, but words evaporate in your throat. It’s true. You probably shouldn’t mention her sister Tina was also a victim of the masks, when Shelly rushed off to create your fictional Ruth.<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing?” Dalton’s eyes are dewy with tears. The word wounds as much as she is wounded. “You’ve got nothing to say for yourself? Don’t you get it? You stole Mariah’s life like you stole my life – and I’m the one that made you do it! I can’t believe I thought this game was a good idea! I can’t believe how easily you corrupted me! I’m just another victim of your stupid, hell-cursed book, aren’t I?”<br/>
<br/>
 “Niamh. Please…”<br/>
<br/>
“<i>NO</i>. No, you don’t get to speak to me with that voice. Not as her. Not as Mariah. Not as anyone else, either. Never again. You ever come to me as another living soul and I find out, I’ll have you, Will Prescott! You get her face off this instant! Pull your fake out of school and swap back this morning, or so help me I’ll…”<br/>
<br/>
“How! He’ll be starting lessons soon!”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t care if you get suspended!” There’s a pause. A deep breath. Dalton’s voice grows ominously quiet. “You know what, I don’t actually care what happens to you, full stop. You just put Mariah back now and beat it.”<br/>
<br/>
You just nod. “We still need to work together to rescue Shelly―”<br/>
<br/>
“STOP PRETENDING YOU CARE ABOUT HER!” Dalton’s yell makes the room shake. She glances at the door, suddenly nervous, and lowers her tone in case another prefect comes to back her up. “You’ve known her for what, a few weeks? I’ve watched her grow from a skippin’, skiddy little girl. Stop using Shelly to manipulate me! My advice? You gather your stupid masks, all your little fake faces and stolen memories, and you destroy them. And you get out of our lives for good.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at Dalton’s face and Niamh’s soul. You’ve never seen someone mean every word quite so much.<br/>
<br/>
“I was just trying to—”<br/>
<br/>
“Get your kicks? Well, you got ‘em. I’m done with you. I’m taking the book. I’m going to undo the damage you’ve wrought, and once Shelly’s back that evil fucking tome is getting the Mount Doom treatment. Stay the fuck away from Mariah’s life. Stay the fuck away from Shelly’s life. And, especially, stay the fuck away from <i>my</i> life.” <br/>
<br/>
You fall silent. Then Niamh gestures to her disguised appearance. “I’ve got to go catch and release this martinet prick. So help me, Will Prescott, if I’m not back gossiping with the genuine Mariah Alloway by first break, I will hunt you down for the rest of your days, and it won’t matter whose face you’re wearing!”<br/>
<br/>
You stand, anchored to the carpet, as the apparent Dalton Reeves storms out and Niamh Stirland exits your life.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
It’s a dejected Will Prescott who pulls his doppelganger from school and returns Mariah to Xavier's. You won the game – and lost everything in the process. You hop in your truck, skip the rest of the school day and brood over your stupidity.<br/>
<br/>
When school is out, you text Shelly to bring the masks over to your house; thirty minutes later, she turns up on her bicycle, backpack on. You usher her into the garage.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, Boss! I’m <i>so</i> glad it was you that won! I had to be totally impartial, obvs, but I was rooting for you all the way!” Shelly’s bouncing, delighted effervescence only makes the hurt more painful.<br/>
<br/>
“Where’s the book?”<br/>
<br/>
“Niamh came by earlier. She took it and told me not to say anything, but, well, it’s you. And you’re the boss! So, y’know, I kind of have to tell you if you ask.”<br/>
<br/>
You turn Shelly around, open the backpack, and shove the Mariah mask inside with the other masks. “I want you to go and bury these. Deep, where they won’t be found. Don’t tell anyone where. Then, when you come back home—” you choke on the words, and spin the golem around to look it in the eye. “You’re going to go on with your life as if we’re just strangers at school. If your mom asks, say the project’s over. I won’t come around again.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t say that, Will!” Shelly says, forcing you into a hug even before the words are out of her mouth. You close your eyes and squeeze. <br/>
<br/>
“Goodbye, Shelly. From now on, you are to follow Niamh’s instructions as if they were my own. She’s your boss too. I hope she works out how to save… well, you. And tell her I—” you pause.<br/>
<br/>
“Tell her what?”<br/>
<br/>
You smile and gently push the golem away, resting your hands on her shoulders. “Tell her I’m sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
Your days as a magician are over.</span></div></div>


path: 11331212122121211211111222211211211251114311
author_id: masktrixie
title: A Life Less Magical
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Saturday falls like rain. Sunday comes like thunder. Monday is over like lightning. The world ebbs and flows between night and day. It feels empty and hollow; a pale reflection on how it had been before the book and its masks stumbled into your life. Some nights, you try and remember the intricate sigils and the overly elaborate recipes. On others, you head online. AerisLives777 has blocked you.<br/>
<br/>
Life in Saratoga Falls drags, seconds feeling like hours. Or it hurries, a day passing in a blink. Caleb and Keith try their best to snap you out of the spin, but you’re in freefall. The only thoughts you have are about Niamh or the book.<br/>
<br/>
Grades slip, dancing around Bs and Cs.<br/>
<br/>
James Lamont tries to have a serious talk, but you can’t even remember a word he says as he leaves the table. Sometimes you almost break free and stop thinking about the book, or about Niamh, or about the lives you’ve lived. Then something, big or little, stops you in your tracks and brings the memories all flooding back. Passing Shelly Nolan – the fake one – in the corridor, the ginger-haired girl laughing and giggling with Helen Kim, oblivious and disinterested at the senior walking moodily past; In film-as-lit, watching some 70s horror film set in Venice, with Donald Sutherland haunted by a dead girl as he works on sculptures in a church; a particularly greasy burger for lunch taking you back to your night as Chris, tasting a post-party Abi Steiner on your lips; A flash of a green and gold blazer, fresh from Saturday morning classes, heading into town. You can’t remember the guy’s name, but you sat with him on a bus in another life, when you were a girl convinced you knew math and unaware how gifted you were with the saxophone.<br/>
<br/>
You get a D on your mid-term English paper. You don’t even remember writing it. Ms. Gladstone talks to you after class, but, as with James, her words are lost in a fog of indifference. Your mind is lost to magic, trying to understand the basic principles. The book was sequential, each spell building on the next. And each sigil incorporated different aspects of a spell. Understand the language of the sigils, the nature of magic, and you could work out the eighth page. But there were things that Niamh said that makes you wonder about the book itself. <i>I’m just another victim of your stupid, hell-cursed book, aren’t I?; That evil fucking tome is getting the Mount Doom treatment.</i><br/>
<br/>
“No, it’s a stupid idea.” You shake it out of your head. You don’t even know where you’re going with it.<br/>
<br/>
“I think you should. What have you got to lose?” You look up. Yumi Saito is opposite you in Besandwiched, chewing on rye bread slathered in hummus and tomato. <i>That’s right. She insisted on taking me out to lunch to talk.</i><br/>
<br/>
“I… what were we talking about?”<br/>
<br/>
Yumi frowns. “Cassie Harper. Ask her out. Put this snob out of your head. I don’t get why you went with one of Professor X’s mutants anyway, everyone knows they’re elitist jerks. If she were here, I’d kick her ass. I could drive over to Lattyville and kick her ass for you, if you want?”<br/>
<br/>
“She’s in England,” you mutter. “Looking at attending Oxford.” <i>or was it Cambridge? Are they even the different places?</i><br/>
<br/>
Yumi whistles. “Well, good for her. Is one of their entry requirements to have a stick up your butt? It was never going to work, Will. You’re just from the wrong side of the tracks. Well, not literally, but you get what I mean. You need to snap out of this.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m good,” you say, offering a weak smile. Yumi leans in.<br/>
<br/>
“No, Will. You are <i>not good</i>. This is an intervention. It’s been two weeks and you’re walking around like an empty shell. You think I’d buy you a sandwich for any other reason?” She’s trying to cheer you up and failing miserably. “Do you want to know how bad it's got? <i>Cindy</i> asked what your problem is."<br/>
<br/>
"Vredenburg?" Like Yumi, Cindy is a cheerleader, though a snobbier one.<br/>
<br/>
"You know another Cindy? Granted, she asked because you were harshing her vibe at our study session. Speaking of studying, have your parents grounded you yet over your grades?"<br/>
<br/>
“No. Wouldn’t matter if they did.”<br/>
<br/>
“Urgh!” She reaches over to your cell, resting out on the table.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey! What are you—”<br/>
<br/>
“Intervening, I told you.” She types a message and keeps your phone out of reach as she waits for the reply. It pings back half a minute later. “There. Tomorrow, you are taking Cassie Harper out to a nice restaurant, and I don't mean the DQ or somewhere you eat with your fingers. You know how sad she was when you took her to see that werewolf movie and never messaged her?” <i>No, I don’t,</i> you think. <i>That was Shelly Nolan disguised as me.</i> “Then, suddenly, you were all over town with this blonde fancy-ass Catholic schoolgirl. You practically broke her heart. So you’re going to put that right.”<br/>
<br/>
“I really don’t feel like—”<br/>
<br/>
“Too late,” Yumi says, sliding your phone over and smirking. “I’ve intervened. No such thing as a free lunch. And even if it doesn’t get you out of this funk, at least you’ll be a little less of a douchebag for the way you treated her.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Cassie Harper’s fun. She talks non-stop, like a wind-up monkey with a symbol banging away about whatever thought pops into her unfiltered mind, but that sucks up all the dead energy you’d otherwise exude. It’s as if a fever has finally broken, and clouded thoughts are sharp once more.<br/>
<br/>
Friday night is the first time you’ve laughed since you threw away the mask of Mariah Alloway, as you fumble small talk with each other and grab a bite to eat. On Saturday, you find yourself lingering around Thrifty Nifties, pretending you want to buy any of the random clothes on the shelves, while Cassie – clearly delighted you’ve gatecrashed the monotony of her weekend job – gives her best advice. On Sunday, you suddenly have a flash of inspiration for three separate papers that are now overdue, and polish them off in an afternoon amid a spree of cola and guzzled poptarts.<br/>
<br/>
Everyone notices you’re back to normal on Monday, though only Caleb lacks the subtlety to say so outright. And by Tuesday you’re finally free of the spells that swallowed a month of your life. They feel like a distant dream and, you’re confident, eventually they will be nothing more than that. <i>Life moves on.</i> When, at school, you find yourself holding a door open for a gaggle of freshmen, Shelly Nolan among them, you barely register her from among the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
It’s how, on Tuesday night, you’re in a booth at Partytown Donuts, a sticky mound of sugar and carbs stacked in front of you, your arm around Cassie as you talk about nothing important. It’s getting late, and you’re about to take Cassie home, when—<br/>
<br/>
“Hi, Will. You’re looking good.”<br/>
<br/>
You glance up from the remains of the donuts and the sugar dusting cast over the plate. Niamh Stirland is there, a bashful smile on her face. She’s as pretty as she ever was, her blonde pixie cut a little longer than before, and with make up properly done rather than her usual indifferent job. She’s wrapped up in a thick winter coat and a scarf. The Christmas lights, already up despite it still being the tail of November, glow behind her.<br/>
<br/>
“Niamh,” you reply. Cassie instinctively huddles closer to you, putting your hand in hers. “How was England?”<br/>
<br/>
“Wet,” she says, with a slight, weak laugh, before turning to the girl holding your hand. “Who’s this?”<br/>
<br/>
“Cassie Harper,” you reply, “meet Niamh Stirland. Who, last time I checked, wanted me to stay the fuck out of her life.” Cassie says hello, all enthusiasm displaced by defensiveness and quiet jealousy. You tighten your arm around her in reassurance.<br/>
<br/>
Niamh doesn’t rise to the bait. She takes a deep breath, a sad, slow, deliberate pace to the words passing her lips. “I know I said some things the last time we spoke. I was emotional. I’m sorry about that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Huh.” You don’t really have anything else to say. Cassie looks like she could shoot laserbeams from her eyes and melt Niamh into a puddle.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m just hoping we could talk. In private.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about?” you say sulkily.<br/>
<br/>
“You <i>know</i> what about,” she returns, fingers tugging at her sleeve. “Please. It’s important.”</span></div></div>


path: 113312121221212112111112222112112112511143111
author_id: masktrixie
title: The Ex Factor
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You think for a moment before turning to Cassie, dabbing your finger in the last of the donut frosting. “Can you give us a minute?” you say apologetically. Cassie doesn’t look happy, but she musters up enough of a shrug to show she’s accepting the situation.<br/>
<br/>
“Sure,” she says. “I need to use the bathroom anyway.” She leaves your side and walks over to the counter, although her eyes remain hooked on Niamh as she heads off. It’s uncomfortable for all three of you, particularly as Cassie knows your history with exes – although your time with Lisa feels like an eon ago.<br/>
<br/>
“So,” you say, beckoning Niamh to take a seat. “How’d you find me?”<br/>
<br/>
“Remembered you like donuts,” she says weakly, sliding into the booth, looking at you from across the table. It’s surreal; you recall the first time you went for donuts, only you were Niamh, and Will was a golem. “Wasn’t expecting you to have company. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”<br/>
<br/>
“You are,” you state with a complete lack of warmth. “So get to the point. You solve the problem?”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh glances down at the table for a moment, thinking about her reply. “Which one?”<br/>
<br/>
You grit your teeth. “Piss off, Niamh,” you say. “I know you only think I was pretending to care about her, but everything I did was to try and save her. You know that.”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh’s breath judders out of her body, her voice quiet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to– I rehearsed this a thousand times in my head and the words still came out wrong. I know you care about her, and it was wrong of me to ever say otherwise. This is really hard for me, Will. I came here to apologize, not to fight.”<br/>
<br/>
You lean across the table. “Hard for you? I left her alone and she turned herself to <i>fucking stone</i>, Niamh. She’s<i> dead </i>because of me. The only way I get through the day is putting that out of my head.” You stare up at the ceiling, its white tiles with the odd brown stain where someone’s thrown teabags against it. “It’s why I was happy for you to take the lead, just surrender everything over to you. I was figuring that, maybe… I don’t know. Maybe you’d find the answers to rescue Shelly where I couldn’t.”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh nods quietly. “I’m sorry, Will. About everything. I don’t know how to deal with this. It’s not a situation I ever imagined I’d find myself in.”<br/>
<br/>
“Nor me,” you say, pushing the finished donuts to one side. “Though for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I used the mask to impersonate Mariah. I didn’t know how much that would matter to you. I guess after we were Chris and Abi I thought anyone was fair game.”<br/>
<br/>
“It wasn’t easy seeing you as Mariah,” she admits, looking up to make eye contact with mournful blue eyes already beginning to film with tears. “I guess it just set something off that day.” There’s an awkward laugh, a sort of timid chuckle that you’ve never heard her make before. “What did you do with the mask?”<br/>
<br/>
“Exactly what you asked. I took every single one of them and buried ‘em in the woods.” You glance out into the dark of Saratoga Falls through the window, of the streetlights burning in the dark night and the rainbow of Christmas lights. A few doors down, Nirdlinger’s has already got its display out. “Look, Niamh, what do you want? You said this was important, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“It is,” she says. “I just wanted to get the apology out of the way first. I was wrong. About everything. And I don’t know if I can solve the book without you. There’s just so much I don’t understand. I was hoping you’d come back on board our project.”<br/>
<br/>
“I thought you were going to find out all about its secrets in England.”<br/>
<br/>
“That was a bust,” she admits. “Besides, I kept the book in our hideout at St. Xavier’s, didn’t even bring it over, just took pictures. C’mon, Will. I know you miss it. You can’t find out–” she glances around to make sure everyone’s out of earshot, “you can’t find out magic exists and then forget about it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, Niamh,” you say. “You were right about one thing. As much as I got my kicks, all that book did was bring misery into my life. Maybe I’m better off pretending it was just a dream. I doubt it’ll bring…” You can barely bring yourself to say Shelly’s name. “I doubt it’ll bring her back. I don’t know how to get past the ripped page, and you’re smarter than I am.”<br/>
<br/>
“We’re smarter together. And if you won’t do it for me…” she looks you deep, unflinchingly, in the eyes. “At least do it for Shelly?”<br/>
<br/>
From the corner of your eye, you spy Cassie returning the bathroom key to the counter assistant. “I need to think about it,” you say finally. “Maybe unblock me. I’ll let you know what I decide.” You give Cassie a smile as she walks over to you, and reach out your hand, closing your fingers around hers. She flinches for a moment out of surprise, before she reciprocates tightly. “I’ll see you around, Niamh.”<br/>
<br/>
The blonde girl gives a nod. “All right, Will,” she says with a half-smile. “Let me know.” For the briefest moment you’re worried that you’re going to have to walk out of Partytown Donuts together, but she has the good grace to go up to the counter and place an order. Instead, you walk Cassie out to your truck.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you OK?” she asks, squeezing your hand a little. “That looked pretty awkward. I guess encounters with exes tend to be, like when you see Lisa at school.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m fine,” you say to her, straightening the fitted cap on your head. “It wasn’t that kind of chat. We just both know someone who died.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh no!” Cassie says, her genuine sympathy automatically endearing. “That’s horrible. Was it Taylor Mitchell, dying in that car crash a few months back? I feel so bad for Sean. I don’t know if I could deal with it if something happened to my brother.”<br/>
<br/>
“You just feel helpless,” you say. “Responsible.”<br/>
<br/>
“But you’re not responsible,” Cassie says, bumping her arm into yours as you arrive at the truck. “It’s just something your brain tells you when tragedy strikes. You can’t help who gets sick and who doesn’t, or who gets hit by a car.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” you say, unlocking the cab and holding the door for her. You suck in a deep breath of chill November air. “Sorry, you don’t need me dwelling on stuff like that. And this night isn’t about Niamh or her friend – it’s about you. So where do you want to go?”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***<br/>
</div><br/>
<br/>
The conversation with Niamh bugs you. It tickles the back of your mind throughout the rest of the evening, and when you notice that AerisLives777 has unblocked you on chat and sent a message, you find yourself hovering the mouse cursor over it for a full minute before deciding that it’s best to leave her waiting. You're still unsure, and isn't indecision the most Will Prescott of traits?<br/>
<br/>
By morning, you've more or less resolved to help Niamh when you arrive at Westside, ready for another day of tedium. If you’re honest with yourself, the past two months have been the only time in life you’ve had a purpose and a direction, and being severed from magic doesn’t feel liberating – it feels like something has quenched a fire within. You miss the <i>Libra</i>, and the masks, and the thrill of stepping into the lives of someone else. But even more, you miss the sense of connection to the world it brought – a resonance with some invisible guide that just made everything seem <i>so right.</i><br/>
<br/>
And, as you see a familiar crop of orange hair drift down the corridor, you know where the path back to magic begins: you just walk up and talk to your golem, currently masquerading as Michelle Nolan. That way you'll at least know what Niamh's been doing for the past few weeks. Then again, wasn't keeping secrets from her one of the reasons you broke up in the first place? Maybe you should leave the golem to continue its life on autopilot, and just call Niamh directly.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121212212121121111122221121121125111431111
author_id: masktrixie
title: Things Not As You Left Them
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can’t resist. You watch as the Shelly golem walks past, seemingly lost in whatever she’s gossiping about with the other freshmen. Her hair is different than before, more styled – something that automatically worries you given its tendency to vanish into thin air when cut – and the Harry Potter backpack has gone, replaced with a more age-appropriate denim rucksack. The way she carries herself is different, too. The only nod to her obsession seems to be a blue and black house scarf that swaddles her neck.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, Shelly,” you say as she passes. For a moment, you worry that she’s going to continue on and ignore you, but instead she comes to a juddering halt.<br/>
<br/>
“One sec!” she says to her friend, before beaming at you with a smile so wide you swear it probably causes a butterfly effect and levels a dam in China. “WILL!” She says, bounding over, ignorant of the dangers of crossing streams in a school corridor and sending a set of sophomores out of step rhythm, causing a shriek further behind as one of the cheerleaders spills a drink on her uniform. “OH MY GOD! I haven't seen you in forrrrrreeeeeevvveeeerrr. Not since you were my mentor. Nope, haven’t seen you at all or spoken to you or anything.”<br/>
<br/>
You can’t help but laugh as you glance down at her, a pretty odd couple of dorks in the middle of school. <i>Jesus, she really is a terrible actress.</i> “I just wanted to see how it’s going.”<br/>
<br/>
“Amazing!” she nods happily. “I mean, stuff’s good, I guess. Most of my mid-terms were pretty good. Oh! And I adopted a pygmy puff for my birthday! I mean, it’s a plushie one, obviously, but my mom doesn’t let me have pets because of my allergies.”<br/>
<br/>
“I like the new haircut,” you say. She blushes a little, and pats her hair.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah? Thanks! Uh, Almida said it’d make me look more sophisticated. She’s so cool, like, she knows all the freakin’ cool things. Said to change up my backpack too, because it’s pretty like, middle schooler to advertise your fandom. In high school, you have to <i>rep</i> your fandom.” She grins, and waves the end of her scarf. “See? Like this. Niamh brought it back from England for me! It’s an <i>actual Ravenclaw scarf</i>! Like, from Platform 9 3/4, which she had to visit to get to Cambridge! How amazing is that!”<br/>
<br/>
You try and keep up with her hyperspeed, struggling to follow along. ‘Almida’ must be Almida Jones, the captain of the basketball team. For a while you wonder how a freshman dork like Shelly Nolan would end up with someone like her, but then you remember how you pushed her into the arms of Kim Walsh’s mentoring program. Almida must have drawn the short straw. You have to admit, there’s a genius to her approach to snapping the freshman out of her middle school mindset by ‘repping’ her obsession. <br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, pretty amazing,” you interrupt. “Look, I need to talk to you about stuff.”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh,” the golem gives you a shifty glance. “I’m kind of late for class, and so it’s not a good time.”<br/>
<br/>
You stare at the golem. This is the first time it’s ever been disobedient. “It’s current issues,” you say. “My friend Keith’s in it so it can hardly be brain surgery. It can wait. C’mon.” You gesture to the first available place that is out of earshot from anyone, but Shelly looks at you and shakes her head.<br/>
<br/>
“I <i>can’t</i>, Will. OK? I mean, I totally would, but I <i>freakin’ can’t</i>. Not about anything…” she mouths the word ‘magical’.<br/>
<br/>
You look at its desperation, and suddenly you realize exactly what it’s trying to say. Niamh’s told the golem not to tell you anything. And, given you gave it a standing order to treat her like a boss… “I’m countermanding that,” you say, keeping your voice low and firm. “I created you. So I’m commanding you to follow me. Now.”<br/>
<br/>
Still, Shelly doesn’t move. All she does is hop awkwardly on one foot to the other, like a girl with the biggest secret in the world who can barely resist it bursting out of her. “No,” she says, her tone apologetic but firm. “I’ve got to get to current issues. But it was great to see you again! And, oh yeah! Niamh gave me a message to tell you if you ever spoke to me again. I’m really sorry, but I kind of have to do this, OK? I don’t mean it! I’m really sorry!”<br/>
<br/>
She steps back for a moment, then, wiggling with melodramatic rage like an active volcano, screams: “GO FUCK YOURSELF, WILL PRESCOTT!” <br/>
<br/>
You squirm under the intense gaze of the entire corridor. Shelly tries to look enraged, but ends up just looking awkward and embarrassed. Then, with a final glance, she slips back into the currents of the school corridor.<br/>
<br/>
You watch, dumbfounded, as she vanishes into the crowd. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t know you were into comic books,” you say, hunched up under your cap in the chill November air as Niamh walks out of King Kong Komics. “I thought you were just a gamer girl.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m allowed to have other interests, Will,” Niamh says with an almost audible eyeroll. “I’m not defined by Nintendo. Well… maybe I am a bit. But you of all people should know everyone contains multitudes.” She gives you a sardonic look as she slips out of the door. When you texted her to meet, you were surprised this is the place she settled on. You get the impression it’s largely where she could get a lift from Mariah. She smiles. “Thanks for coming.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, well.” You shrug, not knowing what else to say. You messaged Cassie that you were busy tonight, but you still feel exposed in the middle of town. The last thing you need is one of the school’s myriad gossips to spot you with your ex-girlfriend and tell your current– wait. Is Cassie even your girlfriend, or is this one of those Lisa situations where you’re misinterpreting the whole thing? Fuck, why do girls have to be so complicated?<br/>
<br/>
You nod for her to get in your cab and decide to drive the long way to the cathedral, in the desperate hope that nobody spots you and tells Cassie. You glance over at Niamh, who’s watching the road with interest. “So, ah, I spoke to Shelly for the first time in a few weeks,” you say. “The fake Shelly, I mean. The golem.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?” Niamh says, turning to you.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. She delivered your message. That was classy.” Niamh doesn’t say anything, so you continue the short drive, turning to scoot past the court houses. “Having her yell ‘go fuck yourself’ at me in the middle of the corridor? It’s not exactly in character.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I guess it wasn’t,” she says. “Did she say anything else?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. That you’d told her not to tell me anything. Not to even <i>talk</i> to me about magic stuff. Plus she was doing her weird skittish acting thing.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean?” Niamh asks.<br/>
<br/>
“Y’know, how she draws out every word when she’s lying through her teeth. ‘Oooh my God, Willll, I haavvvvnn’tttt seen you in foreevvvvveeerrr’.” You smile as you find a place to park in the cathedral lot, laughing a little. To your relief, Niamh joins in with a laugh of her own.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, she does tend to be a bit melodramatic,” she agrees. “Look, the message… I told her that before I went to England. I guess I was still mad at you.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” you say quietly. “You had every right to be. And I hope me only getting the message today shows you I did everything you asked.” You turn the engine off. “I gave up the book, left Shelly alone, didn’t ask about you once. Even though I kind of wanted to.”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh gives a bashful smile. “I kind of wanted you to ask sooner,” she says. “But I guess you’re with Cassie now. Although–“ she pauses for a moment.<br/>
<br/>
“Although what?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing,” she says, a faint disappointment in her voice. “Forget I said anything. We should focus on the book.” She climbs out of the truck and lingers in the chill. You climb out and take the lead, heading toward the basement entrance. Fortunately you still have the key, and you open it up and reach inside to flick the light on.<br/>
<br/>
“So, you going to tell me what part you’re stuck on?” you ask, walking down the steps. You hear Niamh walk to the top of the door, but pauses at the head of the stair. “I mean, the Latin sucks, that’s the part I found the worst. The sigils are complex, but they kind of make sense to me. It’s like my brain just unpicks them. And…” you halt. “What the fuck.”<br/>
<br/>
You turn back to look at Niamh. She has something in her hand, but quickly thrusts it back in her pocket and smiles. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
“You didn’t tell me you’d moved…”<br/>
<br/>
Niamh looks at you surprised, and begins to head down the stairs to your side. “Moved what, Will? I haven’t moved anything.”<br/>
<br/>
Words fail you. You gulp and flounder, before managing to squeeze out a simple “Gone.” You both rush forward, past the open floorspace with the exposed beams, beyond the table tennis tables shoved up in the corner where you cowered before the St. Xavier girls, over to the space at the far end. The work bench is laid out, the usual chemicals and reagents present, along with a small pestle and the stains from the sigils where someone has been casting spells.<br/>
<br/>
“Where’s the fucking book?” Niamh says, noting a clear rectangular space reserved among the tools as an obvious place where it would sit.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck the book,” you say, looking at her in horror and gesturing the floor, now empty where a stone statue sheathed in cloth should be. “Where the fuck is <i>Shelly</i>?”</span></div></div>


