# chapters

path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111231
author_id: seuzz
title: A Side Quest Before the Main Quest
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You text Eva and Jessica just before lunch, to tell them that you want Deanna Showalter as your second beta, but neither replies. <br/>
<br/>
So when it's time for lunch you go looking for Jessica in the cafeteria. <br/>
<br/>
She's late arriving, enmeshed in a pack of AP students: Kelsey and Amanda and Amanda's boyfriend, Ricky Golia; Anthony Kirk and Brent Pruitt; and Martin Gardinhire, Lisa Yarborough and Geoff Mansfield himself. Only Lisa and Martin acknowledge you—Lisa with a quick smile and Martin with a "Hey Jenny" and a jerk of his chin.<br/>
<br/>
Jessica doesn't stop, so you snag her by the elbow. "Hey, you get my text?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," she says, sounding testy. "It sounds good, but I don't know what you want us to do about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Get your helping getting Deanna?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you have her for a class? It seems like I've heard you bitching about her before."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "Yeah, probably. That's how come I'll need help. She knows I don't like her."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine." She casts a quick glance after Kelsey's gang,. "We're going to try to get Kelsey and Amanda after school. Then we can maybe help you with Deanna. Anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just wanted to make sure that— Oh, has Philip decided on a new, um—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Danielle Davis."<br/>
<br/>
A jolt runs through you. "Oh my God!"<br/>
<br/>
"Something wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Just— Wow."<br/>
<br/>
"Why 'wow'?" Jessica's eyes narrow.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Just seems like a, uh, surprising choice."<br/>
<br/>
Jessica grunts. "Listen, I have to go. I don't want Kelsey getting mad or anything, 'cos that might screw things up with getting out to her house this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would Kelsey—?" But Jessica is already hustling off to join the others. <br/>
<br/>
And it was probably a stupid question anyway. Kelsey (and Amanda) seem to go through life looking for reasons to get ticked off at people. Jessica ignoring her and her friends in order to talk to Jenny Ashton might actually be enough to piss her off.<br/>
<br/>
<i>God, what's it going to be like when Carlos and Mike are pretending to be Kelsey and Amanda?</i> They do a pretty good job of being Eva and Jessica sometimes, and you're not sure you want to be around when they're channeling their new betas.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's not much else to do but wait for someone to call you, and you make a point of not pestering Jessica during seventh or eighth period about the upcoming switches.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, you go looking for your own beta.<br/>
<br/>
It seems like he's been avoiding you. But maybe that's because Will Prescott only ever runs into Jenny Ashton at lunch, and these days he's been taking lunch in the cafeteria.<br/>
<br/>
At least, you assume that's what's going on: That's where you saw him fifth period, as you were waiting for Jessica.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Will," you say as you fall in next to him at his locker right after the final bell has rung. He gives you a quick, fearful glance, then goes back to changing out his books. "So I saw you hanging out with some sexy girls at lunch today."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" His cheeks pale. "Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you asking <i>me</i> for? You were the one who was sitting with them."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well." He licks his lips. "They invited me over."<br/>
<br/>
"Yesterday too? People have noticed you're not hanging out with them so much anymore. So—" You grin and pinch the side of his stomach. He flinches. "God! You need to calm down, man, you need to—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes,</i> you suddenly realize. You need to talk him into being cooler, more confident. That scared rabbit act of his—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh God.</i> It hits you almost like a punch to the stomach. <i>Jenny Ashton thinks that Will Prescott goes around acting like a scared rabbit.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Come on." You pluck at his shirt. "Let's go hang out and talk. Give you some confidence."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm supposed to hang out with some girls," he says, sounding irritated. "Isn't that what you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't that what <i>you</i> want?" you retort. Who with?" Your heart hammers and a tingle runs up your spine.<br/>
<br/>
"Those girls at lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"Lacey and Shelby?" Those were the two flanking your beta at the lunch table.<br/>
<br/>
"You know them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well enough. What's the story?" You can't help grinning as you pinch the side of his stomach again.<br/>
<br/>
He twists away. "Why don't you come along, if you're so interested?" he pants. Then his eyes pop. "Shit, I didn't mean that."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's a great idea. Tell them you ran into me and I invited myself along. It's true, you know. Where are you all going to be hanging out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Balducci's."<br/>
<br/>
"Wow, I hope someone else is paying for your part. When are we supposed to meet them?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>ASAP</i> is the answer, so you let him drive you downtown. You question him closely during the ride about these girls he's been hanging around with.<br/>
<br/>
It's the volleyball team, more or less. He's not quite sure how it happened. Some of the girls he was texting with after the night at the Warehouse knew some of the girls on the volleyball team, and apparently one thing led to another, and now for two days in a row he's eaten with them in the cafeteria and now he's going with them to the city's premier pizza shop for an after-school party.<br/>
<br/>
"So which one of them is interested in you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eventually, if we're lucky," you snicker. "But which one of the girls is into you? One of 'em's gotta be hot for you, man, and the rest are along to see if you're good enough for their friend."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" Your beta flinches and blushes.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, that's the first thing we gotta do with you. You gotta do what I say, right? So I want you to stop acting like such a—" You catch yourself before you can say <i>frightened rabbit.</i> "Like being with or talking about girls embarrasses you."<br/>
<br/>
Will mutters under his breath, but you ignore him. "Smile, keep calm, and talk to them like they're your friends," you order him. "Don't try to come on to them, but be interested in what they're saying."<br/>
<br/>
"Easy for <i>you</i> to say."<br/>
<br/>
"So practice on me. Ask me about my day."<br/>
<br/>
He does, and you pass the rest of the drive prattling about the day at school, and giving him pointers on how to act and listen and talk in a way that makes you feel like he's really and genuinely interested in you. The drive isn't nearly long enough for the seminar that he really needs, but as you pull into the small, crowded parking lot in back of Balducci's, you at least feel like you've given him a start.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get a couple more chances to talk about your day—with the people you're meeting—once you're settled at the largest table in Balducci's main dining room. The place is mostly empty, but your group makes enough noise for dozens.<br/>
<br/>
It looks like most if not all of the volleyball team has shown up, along with a few extra girls (like yourself) and a couple of boys. Some of these look like serious hookups, or like they have the potential to be hookups, which pricks your—or Jenny's—interest. Cam Shore has his arm draped around Kerri Mullen, for instance, which isn't a surprise, since they are going out. But Cam's friend Luke Richardson—another baseball player, like Cam—has also come along, and seems to be paying a lot of attention to Reagan Hackett, which is something new. You also recognize Blake O'Brien, the football player who drove you back to your truck from the Warehouse Saturday morning, though of course he doesn't recognize you in your new guise. But he's not paying much attention to anything, except the blonde girl—who looks like a cheerleader, not a volleyball player—he's sitting next to.<br/>
<br/>
As for who is interested in your beta—assuming that your hunch is correct, and that one of them is—it is hard to tell. He's sitting between Shelby Ho and Lacey Salter, and they seem to be pressing and plying him with questions, but there's nothing in their body language to suggest they're interested in anything other than learning his bio. Philippa Hosford is sitting across the table from him, listening, but she doesn't stare at him the way you'd expect a girl with a crush would stare.<br/>
<br/>
Your eye travels around the table: Ellie Kemp ... Aria Giordano ... Kayla Shea ... Regina Yost ... Whitney Rosenthal ... None of them are paying any real attention to him. <br/>
<br/>
As you're thus occupied, James Brewer, nudges you and leans in. "Hey, you're one of Will's friends, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so. Yeah." You can't help tensing. James is a drama student, and though he isn't gay, his nudge gives you an awful, vivid premonition that your beta might be getting some attention from that quarter.<br/>
<br/>
But he just nods and says, "I thought that's why you probably were here," then turns back to Reagan.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Asshole,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So when Kerri and Cam bug out early, you hitch a ride with them back to the school so you can pick up your car. Kerri's a girl with a punk rocker's no-bullshit attitude, so you ask her point-blank how come the volleyball girls are interested in Will. "We are?" she says, sounding surprised.<br/>
<br/>
"It seems like it. Wasn't it one of you that asked him along?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." An awkward silence envelops the car for the rest of the drive.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe your question shook something loose, because later that night, while you're doing homework, you get a series of texts from Luke Richardson, of all people. He starts by confirming what James had asked—are you a friend of Will's?—then circles in an infuriating way before coming to the point: <i>tell will to be careful,</i> he warns you. <i>i hear kelsey blanknsh has it out for him.</i></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121112311
author_id: seuzz
title: Frenemies in High Places
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"For fuck's sake, chill out, Will," Amanda Ferguson tells you. She twists around so she can study her butt in the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," Kelsey agrees. She too is preening into the bedroom mirror, smoothing down her jeans skirt and tweaking the beads that click in her long, brunette hair. "You think it's going to be a problem now? You're in good. Way good."<br/>
<br/>
You were hoping so. But you had to make sure, which is why you hurried over to join Mike and Carlos—now transformed into their new betas—at Kelsey's house as soon as you had a chance.<br/>
<br/>
But first you had to suffer through a night and a day of silence from your colleagues.<br/>
<br/>
Mike and Carlos were scheduled to ambush Kelsey and Amanda yesterday afternoon, while you were at that pizza party, but you never heard from them, not even when you texted Jessica and Eva directly, and it wasn't until this morning—Friday morning—that you got a text from Cindy confirming that the switch had been pulled off. You went looking for them at school, but they pointedly ignored you, which only fed your paranoia. Not until eighth period did Jessica lean over to show you a text from Kelsey: <i>Tell Jenny to come out to my house ths afternoon at 430.</i> Even then, you had to get directions from Carlos's first, now-abandoned beta on how to get out there, because it sits in isolated splendor way out in the country.<br/>
<br/>
"You make it sound like she had a plan," Kelsey—Carlos Montoya, in disguise—continues, her eyes locked on her reflection. Kelsey has a bold nose, and eyes that easily fall into a scowl or a squint, but she's smiling now as she runs light fingertips along the lines of her peasant blouse. "It was probably just a casual comment she made. Who do you think she'd have said it to?" she asks Amanda. "Brooke? Olivia?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't <i>you</i> remember?" you interrupt. "Don't you have her memories yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Totally," Kelsey retorts. "So it wasn't that big a deal, whatever Kelsey said, 'cos I don't remember it. Probably she just said something about how you weren't nearly as cool as you suddenly thought you were, and needed someone to explain that to you."<br/>
<br/>
Her words bite, even if she's just repeating them, not asserting them. "Is that what Kelsey thinks? Is that what you're thinking now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tch. Jenny." Kelsey turns to give you a direct, mischievous smile. "I think the world of you. <i>Now.</i> Same as I think the world of Will Prescott. <i>Now.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Amanda snorts, and tugs at the tiny, black silk dress she has wormed herself into; the hem floats just under the bottom of her ass, and only has to drift up half an inch or so to uncover the line of the black, lace underwear she's wearing beneath. "I guess we really must love you, Will," she says. "It sure seems like we're working for you."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that supposed to mean?" You bridle.<br/>
<br/>
"She means that every time we get ourselves a new body," Kelsey explains, "it's part of some scheme to help you out. To make you popular. To make Geoff unpopular. Of course, we're having fun doing it," she adds as she screws a smile onto her face, "which makes it all worth it." She glances back at Amanda. "Doesn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." Amanda drapes a fist-sized purse over her shoulder and studies the effect in the mirror. "I just find myself wondering what we're going to do with ourselves if Philip ever decides we have to go back to being ourselves."<br/>
<br/>
"If," Kelsey replies. Her dark eyes flick over at you, and there's no missing the hunger that briefly flares in them. Then her mouth wrenches back into one of her patented, insincere smiles. "But you won't have that problem, will you, Will, dear?" she says, and she lays a palm against your cheek. "You're going to have a <i>great</i> life by the time we get done with you."<br/>
<br/>
You pull away. Is Carlos <i>trying</i> to be creepy?<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I just wanted to make sure," you stammer. "Like, if Kelsey had started anything up already—"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I have started up one thing for you." She takes out her cell phone. "As soon as I got your text about coming out, I—" Her eyes pop as she glances down at the screen. "Jesus! It's already after five fucking o'clock! Can you believe it?"<br/>
<br/>
"What is this, Truth or Dare?" Amanda dryly asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean Deanna! Fucking—!" She trails off in a string of curses as she sinks against a vanity table and starts typing into her phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Is Deanna on her way out?" you ask. Your heart beats very hard, once, in your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, who the fuck knows, she was supposed to be out here thirty minutes ago." Amanda does a double-take and cocks her head as she studies you. "Are we supposed to do anything about Jenny, like we're doing with you?" she asks. "'Cos if we could get her out of that windbreaker and those jeans and that ball cap—"<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing wrong with the way Jenny dresses!"<br/>
<br/>
Amanda's eyes are like ice cubes, even as she shows you a ridge of snow-white teeth between her vermillion-stained lips.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that why you wanted Jenny as a beta, Will?" she asks from under a skeptically cocked brow. "Because she dresses like <i>you</i> used to? Tch, bet you won't find anything like those things in Deanna's closet."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Deanna—flake!—says she got lost, and that's why she is late getting out to Kelsey's. You could believe it if you were feeling charitable, for you almost got lost on the way out too—not all of the curving lanes leading to the sprawling, white-stone mansion and its neighbors were clearly marked with road signs.<br/>
<br/>
You hear Deanna's voice long before she turns into the bedroom; all way up the stairs and down the hall she gabbles and giggles to Amanda, who went down to let her in. Kelsey hands you a mask as you're waiting. "Make it fast," she says. "I don't want to waste any more time with her than we have to." That's fine with you; just the sound of her voice sets your teeth on edge. <i>It's Jenny who has a problem with her,</i> you have to remind yourself.<br/>
<br/>
At last the door swings open and Deanna steps in with Amanda. Both girls are pale of complexion. But where Amanda is a dead-white alabaster, Deanna flushes with pinks and peaches. Her eyes sparkle and her teeth gleam, and she has piled her golden-red tresses atop her head in a sloppy beehive. Something about her hair and the way she's dressed—a sleeveless, pale-green dress whose flimsy hem bounces lightly off her thighs—makes you think she's on her way to a party.<br/>
<br/>
Well, it is Friday night.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, Kels, hey!" she gushes. "Sorry I'm late, I got lost, can you believe it? I— Hey, Jenny!" She twinkles at you, then turns back to Kelsey. "So, about tomorrow night, is there anything I can do to help? I can—"<br/>
<br/>
"We can talk about that later," Kelsey says. She grabs Deanna by the wrist and twists her around, then grabs her by the other wrist. The smile falls off Deanna's face as she struggles in Kelsey's grasp; her eyes pop as Amanda marches up to seize her by an elbow. "Now, Will," Kelsey says, and gives you a very direct look.<br/>
<br/>
You gulp, and the mask slips from your fingers. "Jesus, Will," Kelsey fumes.<br/>
<br/>
"I got it! I—!" You stoop to pick it up, then freeze in mid-bend when you look up to see Deanna staring down at you. Her mouth is a perfect "o", and a draped curl of hair slides down the side of her head. As she squeals in her captors' grip, you have the sudden impression that she's about fall apart, like a cloth doll that's been badly stitched together.<br/>
<br/>
It's that impression, not Amanda's hissed "Will!" that puts you back in motion. You lurch at Deanna, who flinches, but you catch her face in the mask. For a moment she wavers on her feet. Then she tumbles to the floor, dragging Kelsey and Amanda down with her. <br/>
<br/>
"Christ, Will!" Kelsey explodes as she struggles to shove Deanna off. "Will you give me a fucking hand, don't just fucking stand there!" She flings a hand out at you. "What was your fucking deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"You just took me by surprise, is all!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're a fucking incompetent!" Amanda hisses; her eyes glitter balefully. "We go through all this work and you just about—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" You surprise yourself and the other girls both with your shout. "If I'm gonna have to spend the next few weeks with you two cunts—" <br/>
<br/>
You break off long enough to spring over and slam the bedroom door shut, in case anyone was listening. <br/>
<br/>
"Then you can just give Deanna and her beta to someone else! You know," you yell at your astonished co-conspirators, "I almost changed my mind about the whole thing, about Geoff and this project and even doing any of this stuff with you guys when you said you wanted to be these girls! These cunts! Because—! Jesus! Just listen to yourselves! I knew you'd <i>be just like them!</i> I mean, would you be this <i>goddamned—</i>" <br/>
<br/>
You feel your eyes bulging as you struggle for a suitable adjective. "Would you be this goddamned <i>cunty</i>," you shout, "with Fairfax or Keith or—? Or is it just  <i>me</i> you get all—" You hiccup, and run out of breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Will," Amanda says. She actually looks scared. So does Kelsey.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I'm sorry," you tell them when the silence has grown awkward. The storm of emotion hasn't passed, but it has started to recede. "I just don't do well with—"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe it's Jenny you don't do well with," Kelsey interrupts. She gives you a meaningful look. "<i>She</i> doesn't do well with Kelsey and Amanda, does she? So who exactly is yelling at us?"<br/>
<br/>
And that almost causes you to flip out all over again. Deanna is going to be your beta, but that doesn't mean you have to be inside her mask.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211123112
author_id: seuzz
title: Betting on the Beta
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Hey! I got problems of my own with these two bints!" you holler back at Kelsey. "Don't you? Carlos? When we were all talking about who we could pull down off'a their high horse, wasn't it Kelsey you wanted to— To—" You feel your eyes bulge as you run out of breath.<br/>
<br/>
But Kelsey just smirks at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever, Will," she says. "So what say we all just try to do better, m'kay?" She glances down at Deanna, who is sprawled on the floor with a thin stream of drool trickling from the corner of her gaping mouth. "God, lookit her," she sneers.<br/>
<br/>
Together, the three of you heave the prostrate girl onto Kelsey's bed. Then—as if by some unspoken agreement—the other two leave the room. <br/>
<br/>
Paranoia scratches at you in their absence. Neither seems happy with you. Well, why should they? You were screaming at them, and you did almost fuck things up with the mask. That's bad enough, but Carlos and Mike also seem to be pretty deeply under the influence of their masks. They could really fuck things up for you if they wanted to, so you're just going to have to do your best to keep on their good side.<br/>
<br/>
And that, you tell yourself, will be easier from inside Deanna's mask. Yes, you personally have a problem with Kelsey and Amanda. But Carlos touched the truth when he asked if Jenny did too. She has the same problem with them that she has with Chelsea Cooper: she hates bossy girls. (Probably because Jenny's pretty bossy herself.) But it should be easier to get along with them as Deanna, who is one of their friends. At least, insofar as anyone can be "friends" with those two—<br/>
<br/>
You cut yourself off before you can start swearing again, and occupy yourself with studying your body to be. Deanna's eyes are still open, and their glassy vacancy unnerves you, so you push them shut. That leaves her looking even more corpse-like, so you put your ear to her chest. It's very hard to detect a heartbeat or breathing this way, so you burrow deeper against her bosom.<br/>
<br/>
The bedroom door swings open, and Kelsey does a double-take as you jump off Deanna. "God," she says with a smirk. "You really can't wait, can you?"<br/>
<br/>
Your face flames. "I wasn't—! I was just—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Chill <i>out</i>, Will. We were doing the same things with these girls when we first got to 'em."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin' truth, man," Amanda says. She offers you a bottle of sparkling water. "Peace offering, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks." You wince at the grudging tone in the voice. "Sorry I flew all over you."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever. Me and Mike are still coming down off the day, so we were a little salty ourselves. Weren't we?" She lightly strokes Amanda's arm.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" you say. "You had fun at school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you know it. Mmm." Kelsey lifts and stretches a long, tanned leg and arches her sandaled foot. "You know," she says to Amanda, "with most of the other cheerleaders still being our betas and all, and Josiah being Chelsea, we could probably get Kelsey back onto the squad if we wanted to."<br/>
<br/>
"It'd mess up her schedule."<br/>
<br/>
"Like that matters. It's all about having that killer senior year, and— <i>Fuck!</i>" Color flares in her cheek. "I got so fucked over at the tryouts."<br/>
<br/>
"It's Kelsey's own fault," you find yourself blurting out. "She didn't have to quit the squad just because she didn't get her way with the lineup."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure she did," Kelsey retorts. "She was going to be squad captain or she wasn't going to be nothing." She daunts you with a hard eye, then dissolves into giggles. "Like what she's got isn't enough," she murmurs, and hugs herself tightly.<br/>
<br/>
Amanda makes a face. "I should have rock-paper-scissored you for her mask."<br/>
<br/>
"I called dibs." Kelsey grasps and kneads Amanda's elbow. "And there's nothing wrong with Mandy here."<br/>
<br/>
"I hate that nickname."<br/>
<br/>
"Mandy, Mandy, Mandy." Kelsey sing-songs, then giggles.<br/>
<br/>
"So, switch masks with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"They already got our— Hey!" Kelsey pulls away. "What are we fucking around here for, we need to get the rest of the stuff ready for Will." She strides over to a walnut dresser. "Deanna should be just about done baking." She titters and repeats the word. "Baking."<br/>
<br/>
She takes out a plastic tub and a paintbrush and settles on the bed next to Deanna. She smiles at you, and pats the bed by her knee.<br/>
<br/>
You sink slowly down next to her, dreading—but also hoping, a little—that she'll get flirty with you the way she was being flirty with Amanda.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But she keeps her hands to herself, and you're studying the ceiling when she nudges you; you look down to see the mask sitting on Deanna's face. Kelsey carefully lifts it off her, then uses the brush to apply some kind of sealant to the inner surface. "There," she says as she blows it dry. "Now you just have to get out of Jenny's mask so we can get it onto her, and then get her mask onto you. Come on, Will." She claps your leg. "Get out of your things. Clothes first, unless you want to Hulk out in them."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, God!</i> You're suddenly assailed by nerves. You hated getting undressed in gym class when you were an underclassman, and in this moment you discover that Jenny hated it too; it's one of the reasons she never went out for team sports even though she is naturally athletic. You find yourself feeling especially shy under the smirking glances of Kelsey and Amanda.<br/>
<br/>
But you force yourself: kicking off shoes, tearing off socks and jeans and t-shirt; peeling off the bra and panties. You shiver as you lay out on the bed and look up at Kelsey, who is grinning down hard at you; you shiver again as she turns to look over at Amanda, who purses her lips appreciatively at you. "Just get this thing off me," you moan, and squeeze your eyes shut.<br/>
<br/>
You sense Kelsey bending over you, then you feel her hand grasping your brow. You tense and grit your teeth; a sudden gasp is torn from your lungs as you feel your face being ripped from the front of your skull.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You surface into a gauzy wakefulness, as though your brain has been wrapped in cotton and linen bandages after being pumped full of helium. You wince as you sit up, then jump as a slick coil slithers off your head and onto your bosom.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Bosom!</i> Oh God, you've got a bosom, and its bare to the world! You cover it instinctively with one hand—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh Jesus!</i> You're naked as a newborn! With a squeal you twist yourself into a ball and dart your eyes about the room.<br/>
<br/>
It's a bedroom, a very large bedroom. It's Kelsey's bedroom! You're naked on her bed and—!<br/>
<br/>
With a groan you drop your boobs and clutch your head, and try to force the jumble of memories and viewpoints into something coherent.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Deanna Showalter.</i> You are at Kelsey's because you were going to switch out of Jenny Ashton's mask and into Deanna Showalter's. So are you now—?<br/>
<br/>
 With gritted teeth you wrench your eyes open and peep down at yourself. You've got boobs and a bush, but your skin is a pale, and a great glob of baby fat droops off your stomach. As you lay a hand on it, another coil of hair slips onto your shoulder. You grimace: <i>And I spent nearly forty minutes getting made up!</i> you think. <br/>
<br/>
Okay, so that settles who you're supposed to be now. But seeing is still believing, so you scramble off the bed and pad over to the mirror at the vanity table. Deanna Showalter, looking nervous and a little aghast, gingerly approaches you from the other side of the glass.<br/>
<br/>
She's very pink. (No, it's you who's very pink.) Pink and peach and pale. Flabby around the stomach, with bowl-like hips and heavy thighs. Breasts that are small and pointed. Your hair has completely fallen into a loose tangle of curls. <i>Oh God, those bitches have totally messed everything up!</i> It's going to take you another hour—AT LEAST!—to get yourself back together in time for—<br/>
<br/>
Your heart and stomach simultaneously try to jam themselves up inside your throat.<br/>
<br/>
Your phone chimes—a silly little pop song—and you whirl and dive for Deanna's discarded clothing to retrieve it. It's a text from Kelsey: <i>Are you awake yet?</i><br/>
<br/>
You hurl the phone away without answering and grab up your clothes. Panties and bra; the one-piece dress that you have to tug and yank onto yourself, like you're a sausage and it's a casing. "Just a minute!" you yell when there's a knock on the door. You're still not fully dressed, and your hair is like a mop, when you haul it open.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey gasps when she sees you, then stifles a giggle.<br/>
<br/>
"I know, I look awful," you yell. "What did you do, use a vacuum cleaner to pull her clothes off her?" She was still dressed when Carlos unmasked you.<br/>
<br/>
She only snickers. "Come on, take 'em off again. I'll get a robe for you." She pushes past.<br/>
<br/>
"Take 'em off?" you gasp. "What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're staying in with us tonight. Well, for the evening." She opens the door to a closet that must be as big as your bedroom at home. "You don't want to go out until you start getting the memories, Will. And you'll love it here. We've got a sauna, a steam room, a pool. Also—" She dimples at you. "Wine."<br/>
<br/>
"But I've got—!" you blurt out, then catch yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"You've got what?" Kelsey pulls a fluffy terrycloth robe off a hanger.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself flushing all over.<br/>
<br/>
You'd like to stay here with Kelsey. It would be a lot less mortifying than following through on Deanna's plans.<br/>
<br/>
But she has been working her <i>ass</i> off to set up tonight's date, and it would ruin things for this new beta of yours if you backed out of her date with Steve Patterson—<i>the most eligible guy at Westside High!</i></span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111231122
author_id: seuzz
title: Clothes Off, Insecurities Out
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You take the proffered robe and retreat into Kelsey's private bath—a spacious, oyster-hued thing, bigger than your own bedroom, with separate tub and shower,  and a spacious sink and counter space—to peel Deanna's clothes off again. You're trembling as you emerge, and are awkward on your feet as you pad after Kelsey. She leads you downstairs and through winding passageways to a solarium on the lowest floor. French doors open onto a patio, and she leads you across it and down a brick path closed in by flowerbeds and shrubbery to a rusticated, standalone apartment of pink and gray stone. Inside is a cozy sitting room decorated in knotty pine, like the cabin of an old sailing ship, with two small sofas facing each other in front of a gas fireplace.<br/>
<br/>
"Kitchenette's over there," Kelsey says, pointing. "And down the hallway are the spa rooms. I've never had you out here before, have I, Deanna?" she says as she grasps and kneads your shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. No."<br/>
<br/>
"Relax." Kelsey embraces you from behind and buries her nose in your ear. "Be careful what you say out loud," she murmurs into the collar of your robe. "There's intercoms all over the place, and sometimes they get stuck on." She squeezes you more tightly in her embrace. "But, you know, as long as we keep it to 'girl talk' we'll be okay. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh. Right."<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey gives you one more very tight squeeze, then releases you. "You're shivering, Deanna. Come on, let's get you into a nice, warm steam room." She lightly tugs at your sleeve, and with a crooked smile gestures you to follow.<br/>
<br/>
"Massage room. Chromotherapy room," she says, pointing to the doors she passes. "You ever had a chromotherapy treatment? Oh my <i>God!</i>" she gasps when you shake your head. "Girl, it will make you a new person." She titters. "But we already did that, so we'll go straight to the steam room."<br/>
<br/>
She pulls you to end of the hall, where two large doors flank the dead end. A robe already hangs on some hooks embedded in the wall in front of you; Kelsey slips hers off and hangs it up too, then turns to you with an expectant smile. With a gulp you drop your own robe and hang it up. Kelsey pulls open a door and gestures you in.<br/>
<br/>
The air inside trembles with haze and heat, and you instantly break out into a prickling sweat. Amanda—as white and naked as polished bone—sprawls on one of the three wooden benches that line the wall. Her legs are spread wide, and she has covered her bush with one hand. She lifts one eyelid. "Hey," she croaks at you. "'Bout time you got down here."<br/>
<br/>
"She was getting dressed," Kelsey tells her. "Trying to run out on us, I think." She sinks onto the bench by Amanda; you take one of the free benches. "It's like she thought she had somewhere to be," Kelsey adds with a cat-like smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Are your mom and dad gone yet?" Amanda asks.<br/>
<br/>
"They're not even back yet. I sent them a text, told them where we'd be. They won't bust in on us."<br/>
<br/>
Then, to your shock, Kelsey lifts Amanda hand—the one she had covering her bush—to her face, sniffs it, then sucks the fingertips. Amanda grunts softly.<br/>
<br/>
Then Kelsey puts her own hand onto Amanda's bush and starts rubbing and stroking it. Amanda slips lower onto the bench.<br/>
<br/>
You feel your eyes bulging, and your mouth hangs open. Kelsey kisses and nuzzles Amanda's hand while cupping and stroking Amanda's breast. And when Amanda squeaks and arches her back, your eye falls to her pussy just in time to see Kelsey withdraw two fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!" You are on your feet before you even realize you're in motion. The door handle is slick with humidity, and you slip when the door falls open. Someone calls your name, but you throw the door shut, grab your robe, and run out into the sitting room.<br/>
<br/>
That's where you fetch up. You can't go back into the house—what if you run into someone?—so you curl up in a little ball on one of the sofas.<br/>
<br/>
That's where Kelsey—also back in a robe—finds you. She gives you a look of open astonishment. "What the hell?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
You can only cringe under her stare.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus." She strides over to the kitchenette; a moment later she is back at your side, handing you a bottle of mineral water. You choke on it, and gasp out a quick thanks. "Are you going to be okay?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You look around with a wince. Kelsey follows your gaze, then strides over to fiddle with some buttons mounted under a grill. "Okay, you don't have to worry about eavesdroppers," she says. "Now, what the fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
But you're too embarrassed, even humiliated, to answer. How can you admit to Carlos that you were freaked out by the sight of two girls making out? "You kind of surprised me back there is all," you stammer. "What you were doing." You peep up at her from under your brows.<br/>
<br/>
She purses her lips. "Really? Mm. Well, that's too bad."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look, then sighs through her nose. "Well, if that kind of thing shocks you, Will—"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't shock me," you exclaim. The last thing you want is Carlos and his friends thinking you're some kind of raw and inexperienced prude. "It's only, like, I wasn't expecting it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what were you expecting, Will? I mean, Jesus, if we've got these things, you don't expect us not to—"<br/>
<br/>
She breaks off, sits back, sighs, and closes her eyes. You fight down a wave of nausea. The only thing worse that Kelsey's contempt is Carlos's contempt piled on top of Kelsey's.<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head. "Christ, Will. You know, an hour ago you, back when you were in Jenny's mask, I'da bet anything Kelsey owns that you'd'a been in there on top of me and Amanda both. Lappin' at us like—"<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you say that?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a knowing look. "Please. Jenny? You were totally being her back there in the bedroom. And if you got back in her mask, I'm pretty sure—"<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny's not gay!"<br/>
<br/>
She smirks. "Sure she isn't." Then she frowns. "Really? Are you sure she isn't?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty sure."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmph. Well, all I can say," she declares now with a familiar hauteur, "is that it's a damn shame. After we got off wrong up in the bedroom, we were hoping, me and Mike, that—"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just shut up a minute." You grab her by the wrist. "Don't— Don't judge me by— I don't think this is me!" You feel yourself panting hard as Kelsey cocks an eyebrow. "It's Deanna! I think it is. I think <i>she's</i> the one who's all freaked out. I mean, I've got her in my head and everything, and—"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, not wanting to admit that <i>Kelsey and Amanda scare the fuck out of Deanna.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit, Will," Kelsey says. "You haven't had time to get the memories or anything. It takes all night to tap into a—"<br/>
<br/>
"Ask me! Go on, ask me anything! Ask me anything about Deanna!"<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey snorts, and she lifts her nose. "When's the last time I let her into my house?"<br/>
<br/>
"Three weeks ago. Or was it four? Middle of September, anyway." Kelsey's eyes narrow. "Deanna hasn't been back since 'cos Kelsey made a big stinking production about banishing her because she posted some cell phone pics of Anthony and Brooke making out. Said she'd never let Deanna into her house again, said she 'violated a confidence' or some shit like that."<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey's eyes widen, but she still looks skeptical. "The tattoo on Anthony's left butt cheek," she says after a moment's thought. "What's it a tattoo of?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus! First of all, he hasn't got a tattoo, at least not a permanent one. Second of all," you continue as Kelsey's lips whiten, "if you're talking about the Winnie the Pooh he showed Kelsey and Deanna and Martin back in the tenth grade, well, it was Winnie the Pooh. And are you sure it was his left butt cheek? I could'a swore it was his right."<br/>
<br/>
The muscles in Kelsey's face tighten, and her voice is pinched and shrewish when she speaks again. "What were Deanna's plans tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
Your own lips twist into a smile. "A date with Steve Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
Her jaw drops. "Oh my God."<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course I knew! But I didn't think—! And you're just going to break it? Her date?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was going to text him," you lie, for you'd not thought any further ahead than <i>Date with Patterson? Yyyuuchhhhh!</i> "I was going to tell him I had a family crisis."<br/>
<br/>
"You are <i>not</i> going to get another shot at him, Dea— Uh, Will." She folds her arms. "You get <i>one</i> shot with Steve, and after that he's—"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you <i>want</i> me to keep that date?"<br/>
<br/>
She frowns and rises from the sofa and paces before giving you a sidelong look. <br/>
<br/>
"So it really does sound like you have her memories and stuff." she says. You nod. "And her personality?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty sure I got it. Pretty sure that's how come— I mean, what you and ... and Mike were doing in there, with these bodies you're wearing." Your heart flips and flops in your chest. "Were you doing that when you were Eva and Jessica?"<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't really get a chance to. Now, though—" She smirks.<br/>
<br/>
And that's all she says. But still she stands there, head cocked, giving you a narrow and appraising look.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, God.</i> She's waiting to see if you'll volunteer to go back with her into the sauna, to join in when she and Amanda resume, or whether you're going to back out and leave.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121112311221
author_id: seuzz
title: Steam-Powered Action
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your wobble stiffly onto your feet. <i>Am I really going to do this?</i> you wonder. You're trembling hard as you lay a hand against the side of Kelsey's hip.<br/>
<br/>
"If you really want to do this," you stammer. "I mean, if you really, um, want me in there with you and—" The wind dies in your throat.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey purses her lips. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"It's Deanna," you murmur. "It's Deanna who—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes, it's Deanna who is frightened and revolted by the thought of what you're proposing to do.</i> But who is in charge? You force a small smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Well then," Kelsey says. She puts her lips close to yours without touching them. "Let's try to get <i>Deanna</i> a little more, mm, <i>comfortable</i> with things." She pulls you back toward the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The steam room benches aren't built for really serious action. It's hard enough just getting your hands onto each other. After trying out several awkward poses, the three of you settle for taking turns being the center of the other pair's attention.<br/>
<br/>
That's where you start, in the middle. You are conscious of the flabbiness of your feigned body when pinned between the taut and toned Kelsey Blankenship and the slim and polished Amanda Ferguson. But push it out of your mind as you settle back with your eyes closed and your legs spread. From each side an arm slides behind your neck and your shoulders; from each side a face presses in to nuzzle gently at your neck or the top of your bosom; from each side a hand strokes your inner thigh, or presses in to explore your bush and pussy. Delicious chills run through you as palms and fingertips, and lips and teeth tickle and probe and pinch at you from both sides. Your breath comes in quick gasps, and you wriggle your own arms around the waists of the other two girls, pulling them closer to you. Your skin, dripping with sweat and humidity, prickles under their touch.<br/>
<br/>
But all too soon your turn is over, and though your pulse and breath have both quickened you are only flushed with excitement and still unsatisfied when they pull back you. With a groan you roll over Amanda as she scoots into the middle position, then you cuddle up close to her, putting an arm around her neck as she leans back and splays herself as you had done.<br/>
<br/>
There is no softness to her neck and shoulders, and there's no give in her thighs as you massage her. Your fingers, when you find her bush, stiffen at the coarse hairs, and you can't suppress a face when you press them inside her. But she groans and arches her back, and you slowly push in deeper, rubbing and pulling at her soft, inner places with your fingertips. Her mouth falls open and she gulps down draughts of the thickened air; her legs quiver and jerk.<br/>
<br/>
She calls you and Kelsey a couple of bitches when you pull out and sit back.<br/>
<br/>
Then it's Kelsey's turn. She's a squirmer, and your hand and fingers both get pinched a couple of times as she twists and moans under your ministrations. But her excitement excites you as well, so you ramp things up by getting onto your hands and knees to kiss her inner thighs. When you raise your head to see how she's taking it, you find that Amanda has twisted around and is kissing her friend with long, slow swallows. And even as you watch, Amanda bumps your head by throwing her leg over Kelsey's lap to straddle her; she raises up onto her knees and puts her tits into Kelsey's face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So is that Steve?" Kelsey asks when your phone chimes a second time. She doesn't look away from the vanity mirror, into which she's preening again. But this time she's got it all to herself, as Amanda is in the bathroom and you're bent over your phone.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you snort. "I still haven't heard from him. God, if he just blows me off—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're blowing <i>him</i> off," she reminds you.<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>told</i> him my grandmother had to go the hospital! You'd think he'd at least text back to say, like, 'Hey, sorry to hear that' or something."<br/>
<br/>
"It's Steve Patterson. He's an <i>awesome</i> lay, but totally selfish."<br/>
<br/>
You look up at her from under your brows. Your first thought, naturally, is <i>So I guess Kelsey's gotten laid by Patterson. What's that memory like, Carlos, and how are you dealing with it?</i> Your second thought is, <i>So I guess we're totally being these girls right now.</i> <br/>
<br/>
But if that were case, you would be up at the school letting the most eligible guy at Westside screw you silly.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe you <i>are</i> being these girls, and Kelsey has bullied you into giving up your one shot with Steve. It would be typical of her and Deanna both ...<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it isn't Steve," you sigh. "It's Meghan—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God."<br/>
<br/>
"—and before that it was Brooke and before <i>that</i> it was Rachel and before <i>that</i> it was— I dunno."<br/>
<br/>
"So what does Meghan want?" Kelsey pulls her hair out of the makeshift braid she was experimenting with and fluffs it out around her shoulders. "Besides some <i>class.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You shoot her a quick glare. "Instead of talking about Meghan," you suggest, "can we talk about <i>Geoff?</i> Like, what we're going to do to him?"<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey flashes you a quick, sly smile. "I figure we'll wait until after tomorrow night's party," she says. "Use whatever he gets up to against him."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what? What could he get up to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Anything, Deanna. Maybe he'll get too physical with Lisa. Or not physical enough. He can't win, you know." She glances over as the bathroom door opens and Amanda comes striding out, tugging at the hem of that little black dress she was wearing earlier. "What do you think, Mandy?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I think I told you not to call me that." She crosses to the dresser and scoops up some earrings.<br/>
<br/>
"No, about Geoff. Tomorrow night. What kind of shit is he going to get up to that we can use against him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Breathing?" She pushes Kelsey to the side so she can lean in at the mirror as she puts an earring in. "He's been coming on hard with Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I was thinking."<br/>
<br/>
"He's being totally gross with her." She pushes the other earring in. "Especially in front of other people."<br/>
<br/>
"You know, that's something you could do," Kelsey tells you. "Get with Geoff and suggest that he should be more, um <i>demonstrative</i> with Lisa. Like, tell him that if a guy is too shy with a girl in public then she'll start to worry that he's ambivalent or something. That way he'll be all over her at the party. Or at least we can pretend that he is."<br/>
<br/>
"Am I going to be at the party?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who? You or your beta?"<br/>
<br/>
"Either of us."<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey looks at Amanda, who frowns. "I think it's a little early for us to be inviting Will Prescott out," Kelsey says after a moment's hesitation. "He needs to get a little more, you know, <i>visibility.</i> And there's no way I've forgiven Deanna yet for posting those pictures."<br/>
<br/>
"Please?" you ask. <i>But why am I begging?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
Amanda unexpectedly comes to your aid. "If you want her help with Geoff, maybe you should let her come."<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey grimaces but relents, and a you feel a spike of happiness at being restored to her favor. <i>Oh, so it's Deanna who was begging,</i> you think. "But we have to make it look it good," Kelsey warns you. To Amanda: "Where we going to hang out tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"La Patisserie."<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey snorts. "Deanna couldn't afford it."<br/>
<br/>
"We'd treat her."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean she wouldn't be up there so we could conveniently run into her. That's the only way we <i>would</i> wind up sitting around with her."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, guys," you interject. "I'm standing right here, you don't have to talk about me like I'm—"<br/>
<br/>
"So are you ever up at La Patisserie?"<br/>
<br/>
You pale. That's one of those classy tea shops up in The Shoppes at Fell's Lake, where all the really expensive stores are. "Not usually," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Translation, no, she gets nose bleeds just driving past it," Amanda snorts.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey studies you hard. "I must have mentioned it to someone," she finally mutters. "Yes, I mentioned to someone that Amanda and i were going to up to La Patisserie tonight, and Deanna heard it from them, so she went up there so she could pretend to accidentally run into us, because she's desperate that way." She cocks an eyebrow. "That's totally something Deanna would do, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
You cringe, but you have to nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, come on, then. Do you need any more time getting ready?" You shake your head. "We'll give you a fifteen minute head start, so you'll be out there when we get there and can 'accidentally' run into each other."<br/>
<br/>
Her imperious tone is back, and you feel your nerve crumpling, so you nod and gush out your gratitude for this tremendous favor.  Kelsey only waves you toward the door with a tight smile.<br/>
<br/>
Not until you've tottered out to your car do you remember that text you sent Steve Patterson, telling him you would have to cancel your date tonight on account of your grandmother going to the hospital. How are you going to explain it if it comes out that that was a lie, and that you actually skipped that date in order to "run into" Kelsey and Amanda up at a tea room?<br/>
<br/>
Never mind what Patterson would think—probably he wouldn't care either way. But what will the other girls at school think if they heard?</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211123112211
author_id: seuzz
title: Little Tea Shop of Horrors
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You feel yourself torn in three directions. You should probably join Kelsey and Amanda to guarantee yourself a ticket to get into tomorrow night's party. But if you meet them and it gets out, people will wonder why Deanna passed up a date with the most eligible guy at Westside.<br/>
<br/>
But do you have to pass it up? For a very long minute, as you sit behind the wheel of the Deanna's car, you're sorely tempted to text Steve and tell him that you actually can make your date. But your excitement gradually sours into nausea: Do you really want to play the part of Deanna Showalter so completely that you'd let Steve Patterson shove his cock inside you?<br/>
<br/>
Feeling sick, you steer for home. But at the last minute you veer onto the interstate and change course for the mall. If you're going to torpedo Deanna's date with Steve, you might as well get grab what you can out of it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Don't worry about it," Kelsey briskly informs you after you're poured out your dilemma at La Patisserie. "Amanda and I will vouch for you. We'll tell people you texted us about your grandmother going to the hospital, so we invited you up here to buck up your spirits."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," Amanda agrees without looking up from her cell phone. "Make us out to be real Good Samaritans."<br/>
<br/>
You show them both a grateful smile and cut another corner off the lemon bar you've been nibbling on for last twenty minutes. You ordered it and a coffee on arriving—even though the lemon bar alone cost nearly fifteen dollars—and were crushed when the other girls contented themselves with herbal teas and refused to even look at the pastry.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Guess I'm the only one with a normal appetite,</i> you glumly think to yourself. <i>Of course, I'm the only one with any baby fat, too. Stupid appetite. Stupid, stupid lack of willpower,</i> you added on popping a second piece into your mouth.<br/>
<br/>
At least it's a very good lemon bar—tart and buttery—which it should be for the price, and you'd hope that La Patisserie, with its linen table cloths and chairs with velvet cushions, would at least try to offer pastries that are worth the expense. You roll each bite around in your mouth, wondering what secret ingredients and confidential processes give it its bright taste and chunky texture. In your home econ class—well, in Deanna's home econ class—she had a hard enough time adding chocolate syrup to milk.<br/>
<br/>
"How <i>did</i> you manage to score a night out with Steve?" Kelsey asks. She's taken out her own cell phone and is scrolling down the screen, so she isn't even looking at you as she asks the question.<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't that hard," you retort. "Don't make it sound like it took the intercession of a squad of saints."<br/>
<br/>
"If you want to make the party tomorrow night," Amanda says, "don't get sarcastic."<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. "Alright, take two." You take a deep breath and start over.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God," you gasp, and stifle a squeal. "I don't know! I mean, he just came over and asked me out! Last Wednesday! The day before yesterday, you know?" You squirm as Kelsey and Amanda, all aghast, raise their heads to listen. "It was just before second period, right outside Ms. Gladstone's room. I guess he knew to look for me there, 'cos Ryan Shuler and Dylan Lloyd and a bunch of the other guys are in there with me, and I guess they must've told him I was in there too. So anyway he—"<br/>
<br/>
"What class is this?" Amanda asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Reading for Pleasure?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were taking AP English." Kelsey's lip curls in contempt. "I thought Eva Garner told me you were in there with her."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think Eva would have mentioned Deanna," Amanda says.<br/>
<br/>
"You're so hilarious, Amanda," you retort. "Eva's one of my best friends!"<br/>
<br/>
"Because she thinks you're a sweetheart," Amanda says. Her mouth twitches. "Delusional, but a sweetheart."<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway!" You turn back to Kelsey. "So Steve meets me outside second period—"<br/>
<br/>
"So you're <i>not</i> taking AP English?"<br/>
<br/>
"So I like to read! Is there anything wrong with taking two English classes? It's better than taking another— I dunno, another <i>math</i> class!"<br/>
<br/>
"She's in Speech IV too," Amanda interjects. "Reading and talking are her specialties. Well, talking is. Reading's just so she's got something to talk about when she runs out of—"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>So Steve was waiting for me outside Ms. Gladstone's—</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Shh!" Kelsey silences you with a quick gesture. "This isn't the school cafeteria!"<br/>
<br/>
"—and he asks me out. That's all. For tonight, for Friday night." You'd like to gloat over it, but the interruptions have soured your mood.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey mulls this. "I wonder which of his plans fell through."<br/>
<br/>
"Whose plans?" you demand. "Steve's? What makes you think he had plans that fell through?"<br/>
<br/>
"Please, Deanna. He gives you forty-eight hours notice for a date. It sounds pretty last-minute to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Steve's really going to be pissed at you," Amanda says, "if someone cancelled on him two days before, and then you cancelled on him the night of."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw slackens. "I didn't—! He didn't—! It's not <i>like that!</i>" you protest. "It can't—"<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey snickers. "Can you believe how easy it is to get her spun up?" she says to Amanda.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't take it personally, Will," her friend tells you. "I'm sure Steve's laying in the dark on his bed at home, sobbing into his jerk-off sock because you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck you guys!" But the other two only laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"Seriously, though," Kelsey says after she's recovered herself. "I bet it was a last-minute thing for Steve. <i>Someone</i> must have backed out on him."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you have any idea who it might have been?" Amanda asks you. "Deanna usually knows these things—"<br/>
<br/>
"No!" You're still feeling hot. "I don't know why you think Deanna couldn't have— I mean, <i>I'd</i> fuck her!"<br/>
<br/>
"Quiet, Will!" Kelsey hisses, and looks quickly around. A few more people have filtered into the hushed dining room, but none of them seem to be paying attention to you. "Anyway, if you want to do something like that you've all night tonight to get it on with her. And tomorrow, if you want to come over to my place early—"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually," Amanda interrupts, looking thoughtful. "That's not a bad idea. I mean, isn't it?" she adds when Kelsey gives her a querying look. "Will and Deanna as a couple? It's the easiest thing to set up."<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey looks at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't ask me while I'm wearing her mask," you retort. "It's weird enough thinking about myself without thinking about myself <i>that</i> way."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You stay out with Kelsey and Amanda until ten-thirty, talking of various people and things in something like an unofficial and very relaxed version of Truth or Dare while checking texts and social media. The lights are on at the Showalter residence when you get home, but Mr. Showalter is asleep in front of the TV. You wake him gently with a kiss on the cheek before padding down the hall to your bedroom. There you scrub off makeup and take down and brush out your hair and change into a night gown. You scrutinize yourself this way and that in the mirror before going to bed.<br/>
<br/>
Deanna isn't the prettiest girl in school, but she's pretty enough. She has a healthy pink glow, and her eyes roll up in a button-cute away behind little pillows of fat when she smiles. Deanna as a girlfriend? You could do a lot worse. But as you think back to all the friends that she's got and the friends that she wants and all the people that she has to keep up with ...  Well, it begins to tire you out. You're happy enough with a number of friends that you can count on one hand. If you had to keep up with her friends as well, you might die of exhaustion.<br/>
<br/>
And as for Will Prescott as a boyfriend? That thought causes you to grimace into the dark after you're in bed. He's just a <i>guy,</i> Deanna's instincts tell you. He's no one she's even really paid attention to. Even when he was going out with Lisa Yarborough, it didn't really register with her—probably because you were such a nobody that she didn't even take you and her seriously as a couple.<br/>
<br/>
You yawn.<br/>
<br/>
No, you recognize as sleep begins to steal over you, Deanna is much more into guys like Steve Patterson—a <i>somebody</i> who could really elevate her socially, even if it's only because she was good enough to be one of his one-night companions. And as for someone she'd like for a boyfriend ...<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mmm.</i> You wriggle deeper into the bedclothes and squeeze your thighs together as you think of how <i>scrumptious</i> some of the wrestlers are ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh my God, he didn't even <i>text you back?</i>" Meghan Farris stares back at you with frank horror. "Your grandmother is in the hospital—"<br/>
<br/>
"How is she?" Jamie Bornholm asks. Her eyes brim with an almost liquid concern.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, she's fine, they think it was just a scare," you assure her. "They didn't even keep her overnight." You had to give the girls, who you are meeting for breakfast this Saturday morning at Salvation Donuts, the story of the family crisis when Meghan mischievously asked you how your "thang" with Steve went.<br/>
<br/>
It's not yet eleven o'clock, but Deanna is used to getting up early even on weekends. You're wishing you'd stayed in, though. The donuts in the donut case are crooning for attention, and it's a cold and rainy day—the kind where you (Deanna Showalter) would like to spend inside in a comfy chair with some hot cocoa, a cell phone, and the internet.<br/>
<br/>
But you're glad of Meghan's invitation when you look up at a door chime and see two burly guys in blue rain slickers and ball caps come striding in. Laurent Delacroix and Alec Brown. <br/>
<br/>
And you were just thinking of wrestlers last night!<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111231122111
author_id: seuzz
title: Salvation Comes with Donuts
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't even have to call or wave them over: Alec nudges Laurent, then saunters over to your table. You feel your face warm and your mouth stretch into a wide smile as he twinkles down at you and your friends. "Hey," he rumbles in his growly baritone. "Awesome Saturday."<br/>
<br/>
"It's kind of wet, though," Jamie says. She sounds short of breath, and her face is shining, probably as hard as yours is. Meghan beams up at him too.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Brownie.</i> That's what everyone calls him, girls and guys alike. Guys call him that because it's a friendlier name than "Alec"; girls call him that because he's "scrumptious as a." He exudes a butterscotchy warmth through his golden tan and his dark blonde hair—shorn in a buzz cut—and his hazel eyes set deep under a strong brow.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey bro," Laurent calls from the counter. "What're you having?"<br/>
<br/>
"Coffee and a bear claw!" Brownie shouts. "Get you girls anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"God," Jamie gasps. "I <i>wish</i> I could have a bear claw. Guys are lucky you can eat like that."<br/>
<br/>
Brownie drums his stomach. "Just got back from a run in the wilderness. Six miles up and down some hills. Gotta have something to recharge with." He hooks a foot around the leg of the one empty chair at the table and pivots it around. "I thought you swam," he tells Jamie as he falls into the seat and rests his arms on its back.<br/>
<br/>
"I still can't have a <i>bear claw!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You can have a bite. Yo! Make that two bear claws!" he shouts back at Laurent.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't!"<br/>
<br/>
"I can." Your heart goes into your throat as Brownie shifts his gaze at your interruption. "I mean I <i>shouldn't,</i> and I can't have the <i>whole thing,</i> just a—" You feel yourself blushing hard. "You'll help me, won't you?" you beg Meghan, but she just laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"What you don't eat," Brownie says, "I'll take home. I got brothers."<br/>
<br/>
Laurent saunters up with a plastic tray. Like his friend, he has the burly physique of a championship wrestler. He is part Iroquois, and his toothy smile—bracketed by deep dimples—shines whitely in his olive complexion; his coffee-colored hair glistens as though oiled. With strong hands he sets donuts, bear claws, and coffee cups around the table. <br/>
<br/>
He and Brownie have had a busy twenty-four hours, they inform you in the talk that follows, busier than either Will Prescott or Deanna Showalter could stand. A Friday-afternoon football scrimmage with friends, followed by a night and early morning of partying at the Warehouse, followed by a hard, early-morning run. They only shrug and grin as you and the other girls gush and coo appreciatively. "Same plans for today," Brownie says.<br/>
<br/>
"Nn, no football," Laurent demurs. "Gotta take a nap."<br/>
<br/>
"Pussy."<br/>
<br/>
"You're going out to the Warehouse again tonight?" you ask; your heart hammers in your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe." Brownie shrugs. "Maybe some other party."<br/>
<br/>
Laurent turns to Meghan. "The party you had last Saturday was awesome," he tells her. She blushes and thanks him.<br/>
<br/>
"You could come out to Kelsey's tonight," you blurt out before you can second-guess yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Kelsey's throwing a party?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sure. Every Saturday."<br/>
<br/>
Neither boy says anything right away, but the lines tighten around their eyes. "I didn't know she called those 'parties'," Laurent finally grunts.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, they're not <i>parties,</i> not like Meghan had. Oh my God, <i>no one's</i> had a party like she had yet." You grin at Meghan, whose blush deepens. "But, you know, it's still a <i>party</i> out there."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we don't wanna crash anything we're not invited to," Brownie says. (A lie; he and the other wrestlers are constantly crashing in on parties. But maybe it's because he assumes—or just flat-out knows—that guys like him are always welcome.)<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't be crashing," you gasp out around the blockage in your throat. "Not if you're coming with <i>me.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
A silent ripple seems to run about the table. Brownie's eyes crinkle up. "Are you asking me out tonight, Deanna?"<br/>
<br/>
"I— I—!" <br/>
<br/>
Through the roar in your ears you hear Laurent say, "I think she is."<br/>
<br/>
Your face feels like its melting off the front of your skull. Then Brownie leans in to peer at you, which makes it worse. "How about I ask <i>you</i> out, and you pick where we go," he says.<br/>
<br/>
Jamie whinnies like a horse. Someone else—Meghan, probably—kicks you a couple of times in the ankle. "Um," you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you wanna hang out, do something tonight?" Brownie asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." You almost vomit with excitement.<br/>
<br/>
"And do what?" Brownie asks. "You pick."<br/>
<br/>
The world seems to go gray, and pins and needles prickle all over your scalp. "We could, um, hang out at Kelsey's?"<br/>
<br/>
Brownie shrugs. "Could do that.  We could do something else."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm supposed to go out to Kelsey's."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll take you out to Kelsey's. What time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Seven o'clock? Oh, but I have to check with her." On instinct you scramble for your phone. "She might want me to help set up, or pick something up, or—"<br/>
<br/>
"So text me when you know for sure," Brownie says. He takes out his own phone. "What's your number?"<br/>
<br/>
You give it to him, and he gives you his. There's a momentary silence—a silence that makes you wish you could vanish in a puff of smoke—before Meghan picks up the conversation by asking which bands are playing at the Warehouse currently.<br/>
<br/>
You're too dazzled to contribute to the conversation that follows, and Brownie is also pretty quiet, only putting in a word or a comment here or there and letting Laurent carry the burden of the talk. You hardly notice, and are too numb to react, when Laurent asks Jamie out, and tells Meghan he'll scare up someone to squire her along too to whatever party they find for themselves.<br/>
<br/>
"Salvation is right," Meghan smirks when you're outside the donut shop and working up the courage to dart through the pouring rain for your cars. She kisses her fingers and touches the SALVATION DONUTS frosted on the front window. "Salvation from a Saturday night of nothing to do."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Where the <i>fuck</i> do you get off asking someone out to <i>my</i> house, to <i>my</i> party, Deanna?"<br/>
<br/>
You cringe and hold the phone away from your ear. As soon as you saw Kelsey's name on the caller ID, you knew you were in for a rough time. If she was going to be okay with your inviting Brownie out, she would have replied to your text with one of her own. <i>Or maybe,</i> you gulped to yourself before answering, <i>Carlos wants to talk directly to me about stuff but doesn't want to leave a trail in Kelsey's texts.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well?" Kelsey barks when you don't answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Is there someone there with you?" you ask in your most timid voice. <i>Maybe Carlos is having to dial up the Kelsey act because he's not alone.</i><br/>
<br/>
"The fuck does that matter? But yes, I've got people out here helping to set up because— Look, I have to take this." Her voice retreats. "You know where to put the—?" Then her voice vanishes and the line goes muffled. You sink onto your bed and nurse the stress migraine that you feel building up behind your right eye.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'm alone now," Kelsey says when she comes back on. She's brusque, but calmer. "Is there some business we need to talk about? Is that why you invited—?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just texted you about that. Is that going to be a problem, me bringing Brownie out there tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a shit, man, though it's pretty fucking hilarious, if you ask me. You <i>asked</i> him out?"<br/>
<br/>
"It just popped out of  my mouth. I was being Deanna." <i>Same as you were being Kelsey just now.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well, you shouldn't even be coming out here, period, not with Deanna's reputation being the dumpster fire it is. I can tell you to go hang your clit on a hook if you want an excuse to back out of tonight. In fact, if I want to be character, I would."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I want to come to your place tonight. Anyway, if I don't go out to your place, then I'd wind up going somewhere else with Brownie and them."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Deanna," Kelsey says, and the vicious simper returns to her voice. "Such an awful, <i>awful</i> thing to have happen to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, man. Except, is it really going to be a problem if I bring—? Who was with you when you were yelling?"<br/>
<br/>
"Olivia and Brooke. And Amanda. <i>And</i> Ricky. Lemme guess." She snickers. "You wanna come out so you can watch Mike trying to scrape Ricky off'a him. But seriously, I <i>am</i> going to have to give you the death stare if you show up tonight with Brownie in tow."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121112311221111
author_id: seuzz
title: Bait for the Bastard
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I want to be there to see you give Geoff the business," you tell her. "I'll survive the death stare."<br/>
<br/>
"Do whatever you want," she replies with a poisonous gaiety. "I'm not one to boss people around."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God, now that <i>is</i> a lie!"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me." She snickers. "But you wanna know the punch line? I'm pretty freaking sure she believes it. Anyway, be here by seven. Make it eight, if you really want to set off some fireworks."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Talk about Geoff has reminded you—<br/>
<br/>
And Deanna is such a scatter-brain about things that your morning with Brownie drove it clean out of your mind—<br/>
<br/>
—that you wanted to get together with him, to bait a trap for him this evening. So after freshening up a little, you text him to see what he's doing this afternoon. It's twenty minutes before he replies, time during which you run through Deanna's social media again, taking particular note of Jamie's online brag about "looking for a thing to do with Laurent" tonight. Mansfield's reply, when it comes, is a casual notice that he's up at the mall with his "gf."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, well, we'll just see how long you have her as your "gf".</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So, my God, I'm like <i>terrified</i> of going out there tonight." You lean across the food-court table to emphasize the point, then scoop up a fat dollop of blood-red ketchup on the end of a crinkle-fry and jam it into the side of your mouth. "I texted Kelsey, you know," you gabble as you munch on the fry, "and she, like, called me back to <i>yell</i> at me. You know?" <br/>
<br/>
Geoff is stony-faced so you look at Lisa for sympathy.<br/>
<br/>
She looks faintly repulsed. Maybe it's because of the way you're stuffing fries into your face as you share these confidences. More likely it's because (as Deanna's memories now tell you) Lisa has never shown much enthusiasm for Deanna's company.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know what to tell you, Deanna," Geoff sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"It's on account of Brownie," you blurt out. "Did I tell you that?" Geoff's eyes dart over at Lisa. "It's because I invited him out there too," you explain.<br/>
<br/>
"Alec Brown?" Geoff says. Now his eyes are darting all over the place under a furrowed brow. "He's going to be out there tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I guess, if <i>I'm</i> going to Kelsey's tonight. We have a date, you know."<br/>
<br/>
The distaste deepens on Lisa's face. She had been very shy when you "bumped into" her and Geoff at Larsen's—where Geoff had texted he was shopping with her—but she had smiled at you, at least. She ran out of smiles almost immediately afterward, though, and your ill-disguised brag probably isn't going to pull any more out of her any time soon.<br/>
<br/>
"Then maybe you should find another party," Geoff suggests. "Kelsey doesn't—"<br/>
<br/>
"But this was after she asked to come! You know it's been <i>weeks</i> since—" You break off with a grimace. "If I tell Kelsey I'm skipping her party for— And I can't tell <i>Brownie</i> he's not welcome at Kelsey's! I mean, he's not, is he? Not not welcome, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you have to do what you think's best," Geoff says after shooting Lisa a pained glance. "If—"<br/>
<br/>
"But I don't <i>know</i> what's—! That's why I wanted to talk to <i>you!</i>" You glance between Geoff and Lisa. "Oh my God, you guys! You're like—!" You sniffle. "You know Kelsey! You know how she is, how she thinks! And you're, like—" <br/>
<br/>
You hunch over the table, and your face screws up.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," you say, and your voice turns husky. "I don't mean anything against Anthony or Martin or Brooke or any of those other guys. But you two are, like, the only two guys I can talk to about this!" You blink back some sudden tears. "Everyone else is so, like, they wouldn't want to help me! I don't think!"<br/>
<br/>
Geoff turns a little green, and Lisa swallows a couple of times. "You can talk to Brooke, I'm sure," she says. Her voice and manner are very soft. "Brooke is—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Brooke's a sweetheart," you assure her. "But she's not, like, really <i>in</i> with Kelsey. Not like you guys are in with her. You two are, like, two of her best friends!"<br/>
<br/>
Geoff squirms, and you wonder if he's about to make a run for the restroom. The look of pain on Lisa's face deepens.<br/>
<br/>
You snuffle back some wet snot that's building in your sinuses, and your voice cracks when you speak. "Look, if you think I should skip the party, if you think I should—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you shouldn't skip," Lisa says. She sounds very tired. "Not if you don't want to."<br/>
<br/>
"But I <i>do</i> want to! At least, I'd want to if—"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't you say that Kelsey called you up and yelled at you?" Geoff interrupts. "Yeah, then you're screwed either way." He ignores your sudden gasp. "So just do what you want, Deanna."<br/>
<br/>
You cross your arms and settle back to stare at the center of the table. No one else speaks. After a minute or two of silence, Lisa takes out her cell phone and starts scrolling through it.<br/>
<br/>
"In that case," you declare when the silence has become unbearable, "I will go out there. I mean, screw her, if she's going to be a bitch. She invited me out, and if she only did that so she could be a bitch to me—"<br/>
<br/>
"Then why go?" Geoff asks.<br/>
<br/>
"So she can be a bitch to me to my face instead of behind my back. And if she's going to be a bitch to me because Brownie asked me out and I had to choose between him and her ... Well, you know, screw her."<br/>
<br/>
They don't look happy at this decision, but they do look relieved that you've come to a decision. Neither of them speak, though, as you finish up the French fries, then excuse yourself to freshen up in the mall restroom. You bump into Lisa as you're exiting, but you only exchange tight, awkward smiles. <i>Wow,</i> you think. <i>Lisa can't even find something sisterly to say to me when she catches me alone after all that.</i><br/>
<br/>
And that leaves you with a very clear conscience when you settle in next to Geoff at the food court again. "How are things between you and Lisa?" you ask him with bright intimacy.<br/>
<br/>
He looks startled. "Fine."<br/>
<br/>
"So you called her your 'gee-eff' in your text," you remind him, and bite down on a smile. "I didn't get the impression it was that serious between you."<br/>
<br/>
The color drains from his face. "Well, what did you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is it really a 'bee-eff, gee-eff' thing between you? I mean, technically and officially?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not like we're <i>engaged</i>," he protests.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God! Do you think you really could be—!" Your hand goes to your mouth. "Are you really that serious about her, that you think—?"<br/>
<br/>
You have to let the question dangle like a fish dying on a hook for a very long moment before Geoff can work out an answer.<br/>
<br/>
"No!" he exclaims. "I mean, I haven't thought—! I mean, we're just going out, for Chrissakes!"<br/>
<br/>
"But you <i>are</i> going out?" you press. Down in your gut, Deanna's glee at coercing the confession rolls around in grudge-match with your own anger and resentment. "And if I asked her if she was your 'gee-eff', she'd say—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, ask her yourself, if you want to know so bad." Flecks of spit show in the corner of his mouth, and his cheeks darken with a furious blush. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to embarrass you or anything, Geoff," you assure him. "I'm just— I mean, I look at you guys, and I can't tell if you're going out or just hanging out. You know?" You glance back at the door leading to the restrooms, then lean across the table toward him. "Honestly," you confide, "I think you and <i>Martin</i> flirt with each other harder than you and Lisa do."<br/>
<br/>
Geoff's jaw falls open. <br/>
<br/>
"You're probably thinking that no one likes PDAs," you tell him with prim confidence. "But you really could stand to be a little more, you know, of a 'bee eff' with her. Because, you know, there are some guys at school who would <i>totally</i> slide up to her and make a play, all because they'd never guess to look at it that you and her are, you know." You show him a crossed pair of fingers. Then, with a giggle, you add, "And I'm sure <i>Lisa</i> would like it a <i>little</i> bit. It's how guys, you know, who have a problem saying 'I love you' to their girlfriends say, 'I love you'." <br/>
<br/>
You dimple at him. He looks like he's about to keel over with shock and nausea.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, I gotta go," you say as Lisa comes striding back toward you. You gather up your purse. "I want to pick up a scarf for tonight, and I'm running out of time. Thanks <i>so much</i> for talking to me, it really helped." As Lisa settles back into her chair, you reach across to squeeze Geoff's forearm. "I'll see you over at Kelsey's, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah," Geoff says in a dazed voice. "See you later, Deanna," Lisa says with cold aloofness. You beam at them, and trot off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Well, that was fun,</i> you think as you swing into Feldman's Clothiers. (There was a tan-and-green silk scarf that Deanna noticed last weekend when she was out there, and tonight's party is a perfect excuse to buy it.) You congratulate yourself with the thought that, even if haven't goaded Geoff into being even sloppier with Lisa in public, you did at least give him a really uncomfortable afternoon.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211123112211111
author_id: seuzz
title: Party Favors
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Five o'clock comes, and it's time to start getting ready for Kelsey's party. You face it with mixed feelings of anticipation and dread.<br/>
<br/>
You shower and scrub, enjoying the feeling—as you did this morning—of Deanna's boobs and hips and bush in the cup of your  hand. After carefully drying yourself all over, you put on a fresh slip and spend another thirty minutes applying foundation and powder, lipstick and eye shadow, mascara and blush to your clean, pink face. Another twenty minutes are spent combing out your long, strawberry-blonde hair into tresses that you pile up and pin into a quasi-beehive while leaving four strands to curl and dangle in front of your ears and over your shoulder blades.<br/>
<br/>
That done, you turn to the most important choice of the evening: the clothes.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Freaking Kelsey and her parties,</i> you mutter to yourself as you paw through possible outfits. The trouble is that Kelsey, being of bohemian temperament, likes to sneer at anything that looks like a frock or a gown: <i>This isn't prom,</i> she's reminded her guests while rolling her eyes. <i>Have some fun.</i> But being rich, she likes to dress expensive, and will cluck at anyone who shows up in anything so down market as jeans and a t-shirt. And Deanna has long since use every obvious choice in her ensemble.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck it,</i> you finally decide. Carlos has already warned you that he's going to role-play extra bitchy tonight. So  you just go with something minimally acceptable, and trust to the scarf you bought to add a little unexpected flair.<br/>
<br/>
So you choose a peach-colored sleeveless one-piece dress whose hem falls just above the knee. You fuss with some white hose before deciding to go bare-legged, and after changing into a new set underclothes you wrestle yourself savagely into the dress. <i>Christ,</i> you cuss to yourself. <i>No more cupcakes!</i> This was once Deanna's "fat" dress, to wear when she was feeling bloated. Now it's like stuffing yourself into a sausage casing, and you feel the fabric protest when you bend to put on some high-heeled shoes. That done, you drape the scarf around your neck and play with the knot, settling it over your left shoulder after experimenting with dropping it over your bosom. You're picking out earrings when the doorbell sounds. "I'll be down in a minute!" you call to your dad when he yells that someone is here to see you. You cock an eye at the clock, and decide to keep him waiting another five minutes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey." You beam at Brownie when you catch up to him in the foyer. "We're going out to Kelsey's," you tell your dad as he warily eyes you and your date. "What's my curfew?" He holds up two fingers. "Thanks, Dad."<br/>
<br/>
"You had to ask him your curfew?" Brownie asks when you're outside and striding side by side down the walk.<br/>
<br/>
"Silly, that was so my dad would know that <i>you</i> know what my curfew is."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that the way it works?" You can sense the grin on his face even without looking up and over at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Tch, don't worry about it. It's Kelsey's, and I'm never home before ten the next morning when I'm at <i>her</i> place. Can you stay out all night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not on Saturday nights, not unless I wanna get in trouble. Or unless I'm—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I love your truck," you interrupt him. It's an ultra-manly, four-door Dodge Ram—gleaming black, like onyx. "Do you drive it to school? I think I'd remember it if I saw it in the parking lot."<br/>
<br/>
"Nngh, I hitch a ride in with Laurent." He holds the door while you climb in, and slams it shut for you. The interior smells freshly vacuumed. "Now that we're out of earshot of your dad," he continues after he's climbed in, "I'll tell you how nice you look."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks. You look great, too."<br/>
<br/>
He does. He's in clean but faded Levis, and is wearing a dusty red denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway between his wrists and elbows. A gray ball cap is pulled down low over his brow. "I'm underdressed," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Guys are never underdressed. It makes me so jealous."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a sidelong glance. "I look underdressed next to you."<br/>
<br/>
You feel a flush at your throat. "If we stick close, maybe we'll even out? Average out?"<br/>
<br/>
His gaze glints as he turns the motor over with a roar.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have to give him directions on the way out, and a couple of cautions. "It's going to be really mellow," you tell him. "Kelsey likes to keep things low-key. Talking and hanging out, you know. You bring your cell phone? Good, because—" You roll your eyes. "She puts these foreign-language DVDs on her TV, so if you want to watch something really good, you have to find yourself on the internet."<br/>
<br/>
"What about music? Dancing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, that's why the movies are subtitled. So you can turn the sound down so it won't interfere with the music.<br/>
<br/>
Brownie hesitates, then point-blank asks if you really want to go out to Kelsey's. "I have to show my face, at least, but we can leave early if you want," you assure him.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't look happy, and he grunts non-committally. And you wait until you're pulling up the private drive before telling him that there's going to be weed at the party. Lots and lots of weed. "So if you don't want to go home smelling of it—" His face falls further, and he says that might be a good excuse to bug out early.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on up," Kelsey chirps through the intercom when you buzz the front door, and Brownie waggles a quizzical eyebrow as you let yourselves in. You give him a quick grin, and at the base of the stairs leading into "Kelsey's wing" you grab him by his meaty paw of a hand and tug him along behind.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God! Deanna!" Kelsey squeals with tinny insincerity when she meets you in the upstairs hall. "You're wearing your best dress! I love that one! It and the scarf!" She herself is in a black, buckskin skirt that falls halfway down her thighs and a denim shirt with silver thread running down the front. "And I love the rest of your ensemble," she adds in a sly voice as she looks Brownie up and down. "It's brand-new, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Picked him out special for your party!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna have to borrow him off you some time." She grabs Brownie's left hand in hers, and runs her right hand down the front of his shirt.<br/>
<br/>
"I knew you'd like him." You take Brownie's free arm in yours and show Kelsey your canines.<br/>
<br/>
She fastens a hard, meaningful grin on you. "Just go on in," she tells Brownie, pointing to her private den down the hall. "What do you want to drink? I'll take Deanna down to the kitchen so she can bring it up to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you think I'll like," Brownie replies, a little uncertainly, for among your cautions was that, for alcohol, Kelsey only stocks weird craft beers. Kelsey smiles at him, the pulls you back toward the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
"So are you going to be a bitch to me all night long?" you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Just wait'll I get started. But first, I have to warn you that Danielle is here."<br/>
<br/>
"Danielle Davis? So?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Will, don't you remember? That's who Philip wanted for his second beta."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! So it's really Philip who's—"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Danielle was late getting out here. We were going to do the switch before the party, but other people started showing up first. So she's here, <i>and</i> Philip is too."<br/>
<br/>
"God! He doesn't fit."<br/>
<br/>
"Neither do you, sweetheart. But—"<br/>
<br/>
She has to break off as you enter the kitchen, for Anthony Kirk and Brooke Galloway are there. They nod at you, but their expressions are tight, and both turn so as not to look directly at you. <i>Guess they haven't forgiven Deanna for snapping and posting those pics of them giving each other a mutual tonsillectomy ...</i><br/>
<br/>
But they don't linger, not after Kelsey starts squealing about how awesome it is that Brownie showed up, and asking you in a very direct way if it's "serious" between you and him. You try to deflect her, but she presses ... at least until the other two have left. Then, right as you're in the middle of telling her how you ran into him and Laurent at the donut shop, she waves you silent.<br/>
<br/>
"What I need to tell you," she hisses, "is that we're still going to try to finish that swap tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"Tonight?" you gasp. "Here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone's gonna be baked out of their minds, they won't notice anything. But you need to stay sober so you can help if you have to."<br/>
<br/>
"But with everyone around—"<br/>
<br/>
"Look at the size of this place, W— Deanna. We could butcher and roast an elephant without anyone noticing." But she glances back over her shoulder. "If worst comes to worst, we'll take her out to the spa and do it there."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll have to do it early if you want me to help," you warn her. "I don't think Brownie wants to be here when people start, you know." You mime taking a hit off a joint.<br/>
<br/>
She makes a face. "So, after all that moaning and bitching about coming out here, you're going to ditch my party so you can suck him off at the river?"<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops and your face burns. "Where did <i>that</i> come from? Jesus, it's just the two of us here, man, you don't—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you have a clue, Will? Deanna's not clueless." Her lip curls as she puts a hand on her hip. "He's the Oscar Meyer of Westside." She cocks a knowing eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
And your heart sinks at the familiar jibe, one that you've been studiously ignoring ever since inviting him out to the party.<br/>
<br/>
<i>How is Alec Brown like Oscar Meyer? Because he's had his wiener inside every bun.</i><br/>
<br/>
Without paying close attention to what you're doing, you pluck a beer bottle from inside the refrigerator. "I wasn't planning on doing <i>that,</i>" you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"You can do whatever you like," she replies.</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121113
author_id: rugal
title: Operation: Downgrade
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You quickly disabuse yourself of that thought however. It might be kind of mean to just throw a person into someone else's life without warning just to see what happens whether it's out of genuine curiosity or just because it might be a little fun; and if you're thinking like that the others would probably think like that too. The same goes for the other ideas. Some people might need to be taken down a peg or two but there's something dark about engineering it yourself using the guises of people around them.<br/>
<br/>
Playing Cupid might be seen as beneficial, however you can't help but wonder if the idea of trying to push together people who might not otherwise seem compatible could just as easily backfire and lead to massive drama.<br/>
<br/>
So perhaps a bit tepidly you speak up. "Maybe we should go with Fairfax's idea," you say. "I mean if we're supposed to be making a social map of the school and all."<br/>
<br/>
"Is <i>that</i> what you think we're doing?" Cindy asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's what Philip said we'd be doing," you state with a meekness completely uncharacteristic of your current guise. "Manipulating people from the shadows like that just seems a bit weird and cruel."<br/>
<br/>
"So we were being weird and cruel to you?" asks Eva.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean I don't know about cruel but I guess in hindsight," you pause, "well it's kind of unnerving knowing that I wasn't really dealing with the real girls the whole time."<br/>
<br/>
"Not like they'd know," states Jessica.<br/>
<br/>
"But they <i>would</i> think that something is up if people they only barely knew or didn't know at all were trying to mess with their social lives or if their friends were doing things that didn't make sense," Maria says before turning to you. "Since nobody else's ideas have any traction that leaves your vote the deciding one."<br/>
<br/>
"Great," you slump as you hear the others groan. You close your own eyes as you imagine six others being turned right at you and you don't want to risk experiencing that.<br/>
<br/>
"We've already got our second betas picked out anyway," Jessica protests, "and Tilley already has his."<br/>
<br/>
"If they want to do it so bad why don't they go first?" asks Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mind," states Maria, "but we'll do it in exchange for the rest of you holding off on your second betas."<br/>
<br/>
"What?!" The loud yelp comes from both of fake Garners followed quickly but a solo cry from Jessica. "How is that fair?!" she exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"Only for a day or two," Maria explains. "Long enough for Will and myself to get things straight in our new identities and see if there's anything we might be able to do there beyond simple observation. If there is we can run some ideas by you and if not then you're free to do whatever."<br/>
<br/>
There's more grumbling from the so-called sisters before they finally seem to reluctantly acquiesce. "Fine, two days max," declares Eva. "You make it sound like you already have someone in mind if the timetable's that short."<br/>
<br/>
"I do and I'm sure I'll be able to get them by later tonight," is all Maria says. At that point things are dismissed and everyone proceeds to head home for the evening with not much more being said.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh, um, Jenny! You, uh, you know Will right? Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
The question comes early in first period -- concert choir -- as everyone is warming up (or more accurately goofing off and chatting) before actual lessons and practice start. Paris Morrow, a girl with short hair dyed some kind of weird pastel color you wouldn't even pretend to recognize, nervously asks the question. You don't respond vocally but your glancing at her seems to make her even more jittery.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I've seen you hanging out with him at lunch before so I just was wondering, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
Paris is a nice girl with a good voice who stands next to Jenny as part of the choir and while Jenny doesn't hate her or anything something about her leaves Jenny feeling lukewarm. Maybe it's the look which sparks in Jenny the feeling of a tryhard arty lesbian (is Paris one? Jenny certainly doesn't know) or the jittery, rabbity nature that reminds her so much of nobody less than, well, yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you interested in him?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Am I...? No way!" she protests. "He's just... he's not my type, you know? But my sister was asking about him--"<br/>
<br/>
"So <i>she's</i> interested?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? No, at least I don't think she is," she sputters. "But I guess her friend was out at the Warehouse on Friday and was dancing with him for a bit. So she was telling my sister because I think <i>she</i> was interested and Peyton was asking me if I knew anything since I'm in the same class as you and..."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, okay, I get it," you cut in. "So your sister's friend is interested in Will and you're asking me on her behalf right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well so she can tell her but yeah that's about it."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't really have much to say. I only casually know him," you shrug. However what Paris has said definitely opens up something intriguing so you try push forward a little bit. "But that's still probably more than she knows. Tell your sister I can try talking to her if I've got some free time later."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Paris Morrow's sister, huh? Oh right, Peyton," Eva says early on in third period. You've just finished explaining what Paris had mentioned to you earlier. "She's in the orchestra so I see her all the time. Really different from her sister so it's hard to believe they're twins."<br/>
<br/>
"More twins? The hell is with this school?" you mutter. "So she's a junior too then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah and from what I hear she's pretty popular. Why, you thinking of trying to get her hooked up with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I already told you it was her friend not her who was interested," you state. "And I don't know, maybe? It seems like there'd be a good shot if she was prodded the right way but I'm kind of worried that it'd look bad."<br/>
<br/>
"Why's that?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well because she's a junior?" you reply as if it's not obvious. "Wouldn't that make me, well my beta but you know, look kind of lame for hooking up with a junior?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't see why not," Eva replies dismissively. "There's seniors dating underclassmen and it's not doing anything for their reputation. Plus she'd be a junior so it's not like the difference is that big. If Peyton's popular then her friend probably is too so if you're still worried about your own standing then getting together with a popular junior is way better than getting with nobody or developing a reputation as an immature playboy."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I can see that."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Besides it's not like you have anyone else in mind for a second beta right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Philip said freshmen and sophomores right?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
But Eva is dismissive of that. "I don't think he'd really care," she says. "Besides do <i>you</i>, as in Jenny, know any freshmen or sophomores?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really," you slump. "There's a few sophomores in her fifth period class since it's just a basic phys ed one but she doesn't really <i>know</i> them."<br/>
<br/>
"Well there you go," states Eva. "I mean if you think one of them's a good candidate and you can get them out then by all means knock yourself out. But Peyton seems like a pretty solid get so if you want her shoot me a text before eighth. I'll get her out there for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, speaking of that did Philip get his second beta yet? He was pretty confident about it."<br/>
<br/>
Eva's about to say something but her mouth quickly snaps shut as Audrey and Rachel, joined this time by Mindy McAdams who'd sat on your lap on the drive out to the Warehouse, come over and sit down at the table. The rest of the period is spent on pointless study and even more pointless gossip.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your question regarding Fairfax and his second beta is answered almost immediately however. You're not far from the library walking towards the cafeteria when you're tapped on the shoulder from behind. You turn to see a girl: hispanic, pretty and slim with her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and equally dark framed glasses resting on her face. "Do I know you?" you ask with a little bit of Jenny's naturally skeptical incredulity towards those she doesn't know.<br/>
<br/>
"It's Philip," the girl replies in a voice that is higher pitched and sweeter than you'd have expected.<br/>
<br/>
"So that's your second beta?" you ask. "Who is she?"<br/>
<br/>
"Daniela Ramos; a big fish in the freshman class," she answers.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay and how? You know freshmen?"<br/>
<br/>
"She lives close to Maria and their families are old friends. Maria gives her rides to and from school a lot," she states succinctly. "More importantly do you have anyone in mind yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe? I don't know, it's still up in the air."<br/>
<br/>
"Well I'd like to have us both in place today," she tells you. "If you don't have anyone in mind or if you can't get anyone then tell me before the end of the day. My current identity knows plenty of people so I can certainly find someone good for you."<br/>
<br/>
Daniela asks you to take out her phone and gives you her contact information then you watch as she disappears into the crowd of students going this way and that. You're surprised that Fairfax would go with a freshman considering the lack of freedom that might entail but you guess convenience and having Maria as a beta does mitigate some of it. Could he get you someone good? Well probably, you don't have reason to doubt him but would you want to be a freshman?</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211133
author_id: rugal
title: (Taking) Peyton's Place
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>In a huff you ascend the stairs and reaching the top turn right. You make your way down the hall past a door that leads to a bathroom and to a dead end with doors on either side. Normally you'd go left but instead you sharply turn right and, facial muscles tensing, throw open the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey! You really need to knock if--"<br/>
<br/>
But you don't give the girl sitting crosslegged on her bed, laptop in her lap, a chance to finish. "I'll knock some sense into <i>you</i>, Paris!" you growl as you march up to her and lean in, your face only inches away from her own. "They taught you about not taking things that don't belong to you when we were kids didn't they?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you're talking ab--"<br/>
<br/>
"The yogurt that I'd been eating with my meals, Paris."<br/>
<br/>
"Pey, I have no idea what you're talking about," protests Paris. But you look onto her nightstand and see an empty cup with a spoon still in it and she seems to have noticed that you've noticed it. "I don't know how that got there," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"You took it," you declare. "It was the last of my yogurt and you took it."<br/>
<br/>
"I did not!" she exclaims defensively.<br/>
<br/>
"Paris it's sitting right there."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't do it!" she continues to protest. "Maybe it was a ghost with a bad case of bubble guts.<br/>
<br/>
You can only roll your eyes because, as usual, when confronted with something your sister's first instinct is to be a smartass. "The only ghost in this house is going to be you when I'm through," you say as you yank Paris up and, brutish as it may be, put her in a headlock until she quickly cries uncle. Twins you may be but Paris is definitely not your physical equal. You let her squirm, not actually releasing her until she finally admits she ate it.<br/>
<br/>
"There, was that so hard?" you ask as you watch her flop back down onto her bed.<br/>
<br/>
"You're an ogre Pey. A brutish ogre. Are we sure you didn't replace my real sister?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are we sure that <i>my</i> real sister wasn't replaced by an alien who doesn't understand basic Earth customs like not taking other peoples' stuff?" you counter.<br/>
<br/>
"Jeez what's your problem anyway?" she asks. "I figured you'd be happy on account of being able to hang out with your crush."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You're</i> the lesbian not me."<br/>
<br/>
"Bisexual. It's a thing Peyton."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Just not your thing," you counter before groaning. "Why am I even arguing this? But yeah, I <i>am</i> happy because Eva and Jessica were, like, so cool! They told me about the squad and I mean it's got issues but those'll be gone next year and they said I'd probably be a shoo-in for a spot then. We got along really great and we might be hanging out some more soon. Oooh, it was awesome!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah huh and did they tell you about that Will guy at all?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, sure. Yeah they've been getting real friendly with him lately so they told me a lot of stuff that I can pass on to Courtney," you tell her though quickly add, "if she's even still interested. You know how she is."<br/>
<br/>
"I really don't," she replies. "But I guess that's good. Jenny didn't really have much to say about him this morning." <br/>
<br/>
"She didn't have much to say about him this evening either," you reply being unable to resist teasing Paris just a little bit.<br/>
<br/>
"Twist the knife," she groans. "Anyway are we good? Seems like I helped you and her out so you can go back to your room right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah I guess so," you say. As you walk out and shut the door behind you you're left to wonder what's up with her completely forgetting why you'd barged into her room in the first place.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You give yourself a once over in the rearview mirror. Brown eyes, accentuated with just the right amount of eyeshadow, stare back at you while light strawberry blonde hair falls in loose waves down to just past your shoulders. You doublecheck that all of your makeup is perfect and as you do you note that you and Paris certainly have similar faces if one glances hard enough but makeup and other tricks -- and the wildly differing personal styles you both employ -- do more than enough to differentiate the two of you.<br/>
<br/>
"You spent long enough getting ready," your sister grumbles as she opens the door. However she can't help but get back at you for your own dig last night. "Do you think he's going to notice you across the parking lot and fight through the crowd just to get with you?"<br/>
<br/>
You lean over and shove Paris before sighing, muttering, and exiting the car yourself. The pair of you walk in together but quickly split up in opposite directions as you send a few texts. You're digging through your locker when a voice calls out to you. You turn to see Dallas Lockhart come bounding up and in short order both Kelli Taft and Cara Fuhrman are huddled around. Leah Powers has some other stuff to take care of while Courtney Tran's running late.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh right is she still interested in that guy she danced with on Friday?" you ask. "I talked to Eva about him since she's been hanging out with him a lot recently so, like, I could pass along whatever she's told me to her."<br/>
<br/>
"As far as I know," Dallas says, "but you know Court. She'll be into some new guy she meets at a party this weekend."<br/>
<br/>
"Are there going to be any?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"When aren't there?" asks Cara rhetorically.<br/>
<br/>
"I think Harmony's got plans for one," states Kelli.<br/>
<br/>
"Must be nice having pretty hands off parents," Cara grumbles; her own parents not knowing the meaning of the phrase hands off.<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell your parents you're getting together with us to study," Kelli tells her knowing that next will be a complaint about how her parents would never let her go. "I mean it won't technically be a lie right? We'll be studying."<br/>
<br/>
"Cute guys," adds Dallas with laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"You can study them with us," Kelli says to you.<br/>
<br/>
But you grumble at that. "There's only one guy I want to study," you moan as you think of Jason Rowe, the handsome dark-haired quarterback for the JV football team.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll have to fight Stacey for him," Dallas points out.<br/>
<br/>
"Only if I can throw her in front of a train at the end of it," you shoot back.<br/>
<br/>
From there conversation continues for a few minutes until the for first period rings. You head with Kelli towards your first period class while Dallas and Cara break off. On the way there you pass by Stacey Stahl, her arm wrapped around her boyfriend's. She doesn't notice you but you sure notice her and only one word comes to mind when you do.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Bitch</i>.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Getting Peyton Morrow had been ridiculously easy which is part of why you'd picked her in the first place. You'd texted Eva to tell her to try and get Peyton out to the storage facility which, as it turned out, took very little cajoling from Eva to accomplish. Eva's a popular senior cheerleader so you were banking on that being enough to tip the scales but what you hadn't been counting on is that Peyton herself very strongly desires to be a cheerleader and admires Eva considerably.<br/>
<br/>
So when Eva asked her if she wanted to talk about Will Prescott and maybe hang out the word "yes" was out of her mouth practically before the question was even finished. Of course Peyton was quick to text her friends -- most of whom also harbor dreams of being on the squad next year -- the news. Her sister though, being the artsy bohemian musician she is, could not have cared less and offered up only a terse one word response.<br/>
<br/>
But Peyton didn't care and gladly followed the Garners out to the storage facility and from there the switch went down much as it had with Jenny though now Jenny, her masked fixed with that stuff and placed on the real Peyton, was herself a beta under your control.<br/>
<br/>
Once you were in Peyton's mask and clothes you'd asked Eva and Jessica if they were getting ready to switch. They told you that they knew who they wanted but were holding off on Fairfax's request because he wanted to see if there were any interesting angles to approach the underclassmen from. But neither seemed to be too enthused by the idea of potentially becoming freshmen and you can't blame them as neither were you.<br/>
<br/>
But popular junior girls that aren't all that different from popular senior girls minus being a grade lower? Dallas, Cara, Kelli and Leah would all make for good places and Carlos and Mike might be able to go for it. You could probably push Courtney on your own but her interest in a guy tends to be capricious so having their help might keep her on track in getting and if Keith and Josiah could be convinced well that might cover all the bases... but those two, by all accounts, are happy where they are so it's no guarantee.<br/>
<br/>
But would helping you really want to be something they continue? Everyone seemed to indicate that little experiment was over... but does it have to be? Or rather would you be able to find a new person to build up? Someone like Paris might make for a good subject as she's only now coming out of her shell and finding her own identity. Maybe it's the sisterly affection from your current identity but giving her a push, maybe finding a girlfriend for her, sounds like it could be something everyone could get behind.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it's Peyton's own feelings influencing you as well because you think back to the boy she likes and the girl can't stand. Keith had suggested tearing someone down might make for a good target. Especially if it can be done in such a way to get Peyton together with her crush.  </span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221113
author_id: rugal
title: The Useful
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Right now? Is in right now? As in right this very instant now? You text back as much and the response is both expected and disconcerting.<br/>
<br/>
<i>yes. work to do. need time to do it.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's incredibly brusque though that's unsurprising. Given how much you were needling her you wonder if you've pissed Maria off. However you avoid actually asking her about it and think that it's better to give her time to cool off.<br/>
<br/>
They need an answer now? Well you'd narrowed it down to four and hadn't really had the chance to really weigh the pros and cons of each one. But there was one person that had taken a lead, even if it was a small one, as you were in the final stages of whittling down that list and now being put on the spot with no real time to think... well, there's nothing wrong with them you suppose. So you type in the girl's name and send it to Maria.<br/>
<br/>
<i>you sure?</i> she asks and your response is confirming that yes, this is who you want. <i>ok we'll get to work</i>, she says before following it up with another text. <i>meet us at top shelf around 10.</i><br/>
<br/>
That certainly confuses you. Ten o'clock on a school night? <i>y so late?</i> you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<i>have to set things up + other reasons</i>, comes the terse response. <i>is that too late?</i><br/>
<br/>
Ten will really be pushing it and though your curfew's at eleven you know that your dad will grumble and give you guff if you come strolling in after ten. But still, you think you can manage it so you text back an affirmative. <i>it'll be fine</i>, you send and that nets a confirmation from Maria.<br/>
<br/>
So ten o'clock out at a studio in a storage facility on the edge of town. Oh your parents would definitely have fits if they knew where you were going. But they won't, or they shouldn't. So the important question becomes less about how you're going to play off where you'd been and more about what you're going to do in the intervening time?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What do you know about Genesis Lee?" you ask as you walk into Caleb's room. You weren't really sure how to kill time so getting in touch with your friend and spending some time with him was the only thing you could think to do.<br/>
<br/>
"Who names their kid Genesis?"<br/>
<br/>
That answers your question but you press on anyway. "I don't know," you respond, "but I've got a class with her and she was talking about me a lot over the weekend because I guess we danced together at the Warehouse or something. I don't even remember her though."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," Caleb says dismissively. "So is that why you came over?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"To brag about how cool and popular you are and how many girls totally want you and blah blah fucking blah."<br/>
<br/>
You reel back in astonishment from that. "Is <i>that</i> what you think's going on?" you ask as you suddenly feel a little hot. "Wait, are you jealous or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why the fuck would I be jealous?" he growls. "This whole thing is just ridiculous! Eva and Jessica and all of this overnight. It's like I've been transported to Bizarro World."<br/>
<br/>
"You think <i>you</i> find this weird? How the hell do you think <i>I</i> feel?" you fire back. "I had Mindy McAdams seeking me out in the library earlier after that thing I mentioned with Dorothy."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh no, good looking girls are interested in. How terrible."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not <i>terrible</i>, it's just really fucking weird!" you exclaim. "It's overwhelming! I don't know how someone like Chelsea Cooper or Marc Garner handles this shit!"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea and Garner huh?" Caleb snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Look jackass, I'm just saying I don't know what to think about any of this okay?" you declare. "Like I was talking with Mindy and it went really well right? And I'm kind of interested in her and I think she might be interested in me for real. So, uh, Eva was saying I should talk to Rachel, uh Rachel Bell, because they're friends right? Try and, um, get her on my side because that could help?"<br/>
<br/>
"Poor you," he says while rolling his eyes. "What's your point?"<br/>
<br/>
"My point is that I feel out of my depth! Like I just got thrown into the deep end of the pool!" you exclaim. "What the hell do I know about having to try and navigate or set up a relationship like this? Or any of this other stuff? All that crap with Lisa just... just sort of happened. I didn't have to worry about it or even think about it but all of this..."<br/>
<br/>
"If you're interested in Mindy just ask her out," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I don't know if she actually is and I don't want to be, you know, rejected," you reply and you want to cringe a little because you know you probably sound whiny. "Eva's idea was... good I guess. But I don't know this Rachel girl. I wouldn't know how to talk to her."<br/>
<br/>
"We've got her in fourth," Caleb states. "Actually I've got her in eighth too. I've had to work on some in-class labs with her." He sighs and then grunts as he sits down on his bed. "This is dumb but I could talk to her for you if you're <i>sooo</i> worried. At least tell her that you're looking to talk to her."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh god, that would be lame as fuck," you whine.<br/>
<br/>
"So it's perfect for you then," Caleb retorts.<br/>
<br/>
All you can do is shake your head. "I'm not looking for your help, okay?" you say but you quickly walk it back a little. "Well, maybe a little but not this okay? Don't talk to her."<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't going to."<br/>
<br/>
You spend most of the rest of the afternoon hanging out with Caleb and though you're glad he was, seemingly, busting your chops about actually talking to Rachel you would still like his help. But certainly not in any way he could help you right now. Rather it's an idea that's been floating in your head: tell him about this stuff with the masks and betas and see if he'd be willing to join your group. But that of course leads to the problem of the rest of the group and you have the feeling they'd be more than a little irritated if you just started bringing in random people of your own accord.<br/>
<br/>
That's if they actually knew about it. But that's ridiculous of course because even if you were going to bring in Caleb and even if you were going to do it right under their noses without telling them... well, you'd need access to all of their stuff and you'd have no real way of getting it. Or would you...? But no, that's dumb so you dismiss the entire thing out of hand. Not just going off on your own but of bringing in Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
Or so you'd like to think. But as afternoon turns to evening and you realize you need to get home for dinner, in the back of your mind the idea of getting Caleb into all of this still lingers. After all having your friend, and a guy as smart as Caleb, around to help would certainly be useful.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're nearly shaking with excitement as you head out to Top S(h)elf a little after nine-thirty... though maybe it's the caffeine because you've killed the last little bit of time sipping a coffee at Starbucks after leaving your house around an hour earlier. But you can't deny that this is a pretty exciting thing either; magic and betas and all of this. And that beta...<br/>
<br/>
You'd wanted someone who you felt was useful. Someone who could really be a boon in helping you navigate waters that you're unfamiliar with. Not that having someone like Eva Garner there to help you isn't useful but you'd wanted someone a little more specialized. Someone who, as a beta, would be well placed in getting you acquainted with whatever little thing it is you felt was important to focus on. Someone well-placed, or who might know this clique, that social scene, someone who might help you date.<br/>
<br/>
There had been a lot to consider no doubt and you want to curse Maria and the others; you wish you'd had more time to think a little harder about the choice. But for being put on the spot you're feeling pretty good about the name you'd sent them because she'll almost certainly fill that "useful" niche you're looking for. She's also not bad looking either in case you wanted to...<br/>
<br/>
You shiver at that, both in anticipation and in nervousness. Having a beta is one thing but putting on her mask, wearing her face, her body and her very life the way the others are? It's nuts... if you wanted to do it. Because as exciting as it sounds you wonder if you could really pull off an impersonation of her. Even with their body and their mind, could you actually pull off being...</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221114
author_id: rugal
title: The Different
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Right now? Is in right now? As in right this very instant now? You text back as much and the response is both expected and disconcerting.<br/>
<br/>
<i>yes. work to do. need time to do it.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's incredibly brusque though that's unsurprising. Given how much you were needling her you wonder if you've pissed Maria off. However you avoid actually asking her about it and think that it's better to give her time to cool off.<br/>
<br/>
They need an answer now? Well you'd narrowed it down to four and hadn't really had the chance to really weigh the pros and cons of each one. But there was one person that had taken a lead, even if it was a small one, as you were in the final stages of whittling down that list and now being put on the spot with no real time to think... well, there's nothing wrong with them you suppose. So you type in the girl's name and send it to Maria.<br/>
<br/>
<i>you sure?</i> she asks and your response is confirming that yes, this is who you want. <i>ok we'll get to work,</i> she says before following it up with another text. <i>meet us at top shelf around 10.</i><br/>
<br/>
That certainly confuses you. Ten o'clock on a school night? <i>y so late?</i> you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<i>have to set things up + other reasons</i>, comes the terse response. <i>is that too late?</i><br/>
<br/>
Ten will really be pushing it and though your curfew's at eleven you know that your dad will grumble and give you guff if you come strolling in after ten. But still, you think you can manage it so you text back an affirmative. <i>it'll be fine</i>, you send and that nets a confirmation from Maria.<br/>
<br/>
So ten o'clock out at a studio in a storage facility on the edge of town. Oh your parents would definitely have fits if they knew where you were going. But they won't, or they shouldn't. So the important question becomes less about how you're going to play off where you'd been and more about what you're going to do in the intervening time?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your choice is made for you as you hang around the school entrance trying to think of just what you can do to kill time. "Yo," comes a voice which, when combined with a poking sensation at your back, causes you to jump a bit. You look to see Dorothy, that girl from this morning, wearing an amused expression. "I didn't know you were so jumpy," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"You just surprised is all," you respond trying to play it off as cool.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Okay, so do you just, like, really like school too?" she asks. "Usually everyone's looking to get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"Well no," you reply. "I'm just kind of looking for something to do. I just want to kill time until... well, just to kill time I guess."<br/>
<br/>
Dorothy's eyes light up at that. "Well, I was just gonna hang out with some friends," she says as she grabs you by the arm. "If you're looking for something to do then come with me and keep me company."<br/>
<br/>
"Wha--?!" you exclaim as she drags you off. "But I mean if you're hanging out with friends then you don't really need anyone keeping you company right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say I wanted <i>anyone</i> keeping me company did I? Where's your car by the way?" You say nothing but take the lead instead because if she's going to insist... "Anyway, I want <i>you</i> to keep me company."<br/>
<br/>
You keep walking but cast a glance backwards. "Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cause," is all she says as she continues to follow you. She doesn't say much more until you get to your truck and she lets out a whistle. "Didn't think you drove something like this. It's nice."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that supposed to mean?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," she answers as she gets in the passenger's side. "You know where Nancy lives?" she asks as you take off out of the parking lot and onto Borman.<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Guess not. It's out by Hochstetter Park so I'll give you directions when we get there." Dorothy's quiet for a moment, her arm propped against the door and her head resting in her hand. But you notice her lips curl into a smile. "Sorry for lying," she finally says.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yesterday. I kinda lied to you about it, sorry."<br/>
<br/>
You're still a bit confused as to what she's talking about but you play along anyway as if you know. "Oh, well, it's fine," you tell her. Vague enough that you're fine avoiding specifics.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not," she replies. "Hey, can we stop at the park for a minute before we go to Nancy's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, I guess?" you answer. "Any reason?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno if anyone will be there, like, right after school ya know?" she responds while laughing a little bit. "Killing time while we wait to kill time. Pretty funny, eh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of," you say. You're still not really sure what to say to her and the way she's dragging you along...<br/>
<br/>
Her demeanor is laid back, almost lazy, yet at the same time there's something very decisive and forceful about it. You're not really sure what to make of her but hanging out seems as good a way as any to give yourself the opportunity to figure it out. So you hook a left onto Hoover and not long after pull into Hochstetter Park. It's a small park and one without a good reputation; a place you don't want to be around at night. But thankfully it's the afternoon so it won't be near as bad. Hopefully.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, so what do you--"<br/>
<br/>
You're cut off by Dorothy quickly hopping out of the truck and around up into the bed. She knocks on your back window and though she says nothing the intent is obvious: she wants you to join her. So you make your own way out of the cab and around into the bed where you take a seat next to her, both of you sitting against the back of the cab.<br/>
<br/>
"I was a little mad at you," she finally says after a period of silence. "That's what I was lying about. I could've gotten back to you whenever but I got mad and didn't."<br/>
<br/>
"You, uh, don't really strike me as the kind of person who gets mad," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"Well I do and I was," she replies. "You know, we spent a lot of time together at the Warehouse."<br/>
<br/>
"I spent time with a lot of girls there, apparently," you say and immediately regret it. "Uh, what I mean is--"<br/>
<br/>
"I get it. You were trashed," she cuts you off. "I was too but still, I kinda wanted more. But you were with those other girls before school and I just thought... I dunno. So I ignored you."<br/>
<br/>
That takes you aback. Dorothy was actually hurt by you being with some other people? Hell, a girl period was actually feeling jealous regarding you? But why? "Well, sorry I wasn't trying to be a jerk," you tell her, "but I just got drunk and made out with you. With lots of girls. I don't even remember half of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Guess not," she says and there's disappointment evident in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," you apologize, "and I mean it's not like we're dating."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
You're taken aback by that and even more when she grasps your arm and leans over to rest her head on your chest... right on top of a heart that's probably now doing a thousand beats per minute. "You're, uh, joking right?" you ask nervously. "Just messing with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I want a boyfriend," she states. "A serious one. Not just the... boyfriends I've had before. Those were just for fun but I want something real."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Holy shit, seriously?" Cindy says when you meet her at Starbucks a little afterwards. "What'd you say?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't really say anything!" you insist. But very sheepishly you add, "Okay, well, uh we kind of made out a little bit because she was all 'I'll show you what being my boyfriend is like' and shit but, uh, I just said it was a lot to take in and I'd have to get back to her. Then I dropped her off at her friend's place and came over here."<br/>
<br/>
"You pussied out."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't!" you declare. "What the fuck was I supposed to say?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Dorothy does have a reputation I guess so I can understand if you're cautious about getting involved with her," Cindy states.<br/>
<br/>
"A reputation? What's that supposed to mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know about..." Cindy trails off as she eyes you with surprise but it quickly turns to amusement. "Well, I guess you'll find out eventually. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that she'd be that fucking straightforward though. Dorothy's kind of a different girl than most. Jeez, whatever. More importantly are you ready for this?"<br/>
<br/>
"For my beta you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Remember, be there around ten. Maybe a little earlier but everything will be set up by then."<br/>
<br/>
You reiterate that you will and then head home for a bit of dinner. What Cindy had said is right. Dorothy's directness certainly sets her apart from others. She's a different sort of girl than the ones you'd been dealing with so far and that does excite you a bit. Well the fact that who you've decided on as your beta is going to be someone a little different. You'd been a little doubtful about it at first but that encounter with Dorothy, as much as it knocked you off balance, has affirmed that something like this will be a good direction to take.<br/>
<br/>
It's gives you an excited thrill to know that you'll soon have a beta of...</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211144
author_id: rugal
title: Out of Your Rags and Into Riches
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's quarter 'til ten and you decide it's best to head out though before leaving you make sure to grab your backpack for the line you may need to feed your parents when you get back. So naturally on the way out your parents, who are still in the living room, stop you to ask where you're going. It takes a bit of convincing before they finally accept that you have to run to Caleb's to pick up some notes for Walberg's class and you make sure to flash them your backpack -- to make sure they're already in there and you don't forget them before school tomorrow you say -- to emphasize it.<br/>
<br/>
By the time you're out you're now running about five minutes behind schedule and you worry that you're going to be late and piss off your new co-conspirators. However when you get there you're met just outside the main building by Cindy who smiles and guides you in and down the hall. When you get to the unit that's not being used for video production Cindy urges you in but doesn't go in herself.<br/>
<br/>
Thinking nothing of it you walk past her. You're barely three steps into the unit when everything suddenly goes dark.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You groan as you feel yourself regaining consciousness. The world is still dark however as your head is spinning and so your eyes are still tightly shut. You lay there for a moment until you feel like you're starting to get your wits about and with a grunt push yourself up and finally open your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
It's the same largely spartan storage room that you were ushered into. A workout bench and some weights in one corner, a full length mirror in another, and some boxes piled up in a third. And standing near you... you yelp and push yourself back a bit in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"What the hell are you?" you ask in confusion.<br/>
<br/>
"You, numbskull," the other person says. "Wait, no, I mean boss." He rolls his eyes at that however.<br/>
<br/>
Not just his eyes though... <i>your</i> eyes. Because this other person... well, there's no mistaking it. He's you. Well he's you minus your clothes but then that just makes it easier to confirm that he's you because you're looking at a body that you're all too familiar with; that you've seen every day for seventeen years. Right this is one of those, what did they call it again? Betas? A weird sort of magical robot-but-not-really duplicate that follows your orders. So does that mean...<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you finally speak up, "if I'm your boss then don't talk to me like that."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes widen but then just as quickly a look of contrition seems to wash over him. "Right, yeah, sorry," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
Curiously you eye him though in a way you don't want to and not just because he's completely naked. Seeing yourself and knowing that's not you is a bit unnerving you have to admit. But whatever misgivings you might have you make sure to swallow them. "So," you begin to ask, "if you're one of those beta things then you have to do what I say right?"<br/>
<br/>
Your duplicate, in turn, eyes you before speaking. "More or less," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"So if I wanted you to punch yourself in the balls you'd have to do it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you telling me to?"<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you contemplate it but then shake the idea off. "Nuh uh, nothing like that. It was just a hypothetical question," you insist. "But I do want you to put some fucking clothes on. I'm tired of looking at your... my... <i>our</i> junk."<br/>
<br/>
"Well you're wearin' 'em," your double insists. "I'm supposed to fill you in on what's going on and then get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
That gives you pause. "Did the others tell you that?" you ask. "Do you have to listen to them too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah they did and no I don't," he answers. "But if I'm you I know you're going to want to know what's what. Besides," he adds, "we were just supposed to be going over to Caleb's to pick up some notes right? Figure it's best to be timely about getting back."<br/>
<br/>
You can't help but laugh a little at that. You guess even a beta isn't going to want to get yelled at by its parents. Your double said he needed your clothes though so you quickly divest yourself of them and hand them over.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," he says as he begins pulling on the underwear. "Your stuff's over there."<br/>
<br/>
He points over to the pile of boxes and you do see some stuff resting on top though from where you are you can't really make any of it now. But you'd guess it's the girl's mask and clothes. Which would mean... "Hey," you start, "so you're this Kristy girl underneath that mask of me right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so," he replies flippantly as he pulls up the jeans you'd been wearing. "Not like I'm really aware of who's underneath me though."<br/>
<br/>
"So you can't tell me anything about her?" you ask. "I only know that she goes to Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you know as much as I do," he shrugs. "Guess you'll have to put on the mask if you want to know what her deal is."<br/>
<br/>
You walk over to the pile of boxes and can make out the clothes more clearly and the shoes, which you'd somehow missed, sitting in front of the boxes. On top of the pile of clothes is a mask. You pick it up and look at it finding it hard to believe that this thing is supposed to turn you into this Kristy girl from Eastman. If you hadn't been talking with the inverse of that then you definitely wouldn't believe it. As you continue to look at the mask you flip it over and a name, <b>CHRISTINE ANNE CARLSON</b>, is etched into it.<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to want to lay down or something," your double suddenly interjects. You look to find him throwing on the shirt you'd been wearing. "The others said it knocks you out for a little bit so you don't want to, like, fall and hit your head on the ground or something."<br/>
<br/>
You don't say anything, only nod, and instead make your way over to the weight bench where you take a seat. You look at the mask once more as you try to psyche yourself up for this is no small thing. No, when you put this you'll be a whole new person; a girl you don't know who goes to completely different school. Taking a breath you lay down on the bench. Taking another breath you pull the mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are very chilly when you wake up. Very chilly... and very naked. Why are you naked? It's the middle of the week so it's not like you were at some kind of wild party. And besides even if the <i>parties</i> may get wild, <i>you</i> certainly don't. After all you don't drink so it's not like you're in danger of losing your inhibitions. Oh you've tried it before but you took one sip of beer and wondered how anyone can enjoy something so disgusting. And another time you tried something harder and you thought you were going to choke.<br/>
<br/>
Diana and Amy and Susie had laughed. Only Kerri was on your side.<br/>
<br/>
No you absolutely hate the taste of alcohol so no getting drunk for you. So why, then? And where? This looks like a small storage unit but how... well, first you need to get dressed, that's what's important. Because your boobs and your... instinctively you cover your crotch even though there's nobody around and the fact you did it despite being all alone makes you feel embarrassed. And then you feel embarrassed at feeling embarrassed even though nobody's around.<br/>
<br/>
But you look over on the other side of the room and spot your shoes, white sneakers, in front of some boxes. You rush over and are relieved to see your clothes so you get to work throwing them on. The bra and panties are first, of course, and then the dark tights and the short jean shorts you pull over them. Next is a simple dark gray shirt that you tuck into your shorts and a varsity jacket to complete the look. Not that you're on any sports teams, it's just for fashion although it <i>is</i> in the school's green and white.<br/>
<br/>
There's a mirror nearby so you take a look at it to confirm that everything is in place and relief washes over you when you see that, yes, Kristy Carlson stares back at you in the same clothes she last remembers wearing.<br/>
<br/>
That she was wearing when she met Maria at Top S(h)elf Storage. Yes, Kristy Carlson does indeed stare back at you and this time it's <i>you</i> thinking that not her because for a few minutes there you couldn't really tell the difference. So who is Kristy beyond a girl that goes to Eastman?<br/>
<br/>
Well what you see is a girl dressed in a way that, while still acknowledging the nippy autumn temperatures that have set in, is not yet ready to give herself over solely to bulky winter clothes. Her hair is long and straight and strawberry blonde and while she's not the prettiest girl you've seen she's still plenty nice to look at and has an equally smile you find when you flash it. Though not fat or even chubby she's still a girl with a little more meat, baby fat really, than you'd ever see on, say, Cindy Vredenburg.<br/>
<br/>
Overall Kristy looks like a fairly normal, pleasant and unpretentious girl. The kind of girl who's got friends, gets out to parties and events but who might not otherwise stand out. And yet as Kristy's mind lingers around your own, you can tell that she absolutely <i>does</i> stand out because pleasant and unpretentious as she may be it masks what everyone at Eastman knows but would otherwise be unapparent at a glance.<br/>
<br/>
Kristy Carlson is filthy rich.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111441
author_id: rugal
title: Lifestyles of the Rich and Locally Famous
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You make your way out of the unit and step into the thin hallway that connects the rest of them.<br/>
<br/>
It's quiet and this late at night it feels a little eerie to you. Well not so much to you as to the girl whose mind your own is safely cocooned in because Kristy Carlson rarely ever ventures south of the university. This area, on the southeaster outskirts of town, is... older would be the charitable word you'd use. Storage facilities, dumpy motels and greasy spoons dominate the area, a reminder of a time when this was just a sleepy little university town used mainly by people on road trips.<br/>
<br/>
A time before your grandfather -- Kristy's grandfather -- moved back into town with a successful real estate company he grew out on the east coast and a plan to transform Saratoga Falls from a transient rest stop into a stable destination community. Oh it was growing to be sure but slowly; Phillip Carlson Sr. just sped up the process. Then he retired and your dad -- Kristy's dad -- sped it up even more mainly by transforming the quaint area across from Keyserling into a bustling downtown filled with all kinds of shopping, clubs, bars and eateries for the younger, hipper set.<br/>
<br/>
There's hardly an area of Saratoga Falls or its outlying community, Acheson, that hasn't been touched in some way by either of the Phillip Carlsons, senior or junior. This small area at the edge of town is one of the few.<br/>
<br/>
So it's an area unfamiliar to Kristy and so she and thus you can't help but look around the hallway with a sense of trepidation. You had expected to be greeted by the other members of this group you've found yourself in but they're nowhere to be found. Only a unit next door with the door open just a crack. You wonder if they're in there so you open it but to your surprise find only Maria.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's everyone else?" you ask as you step in.<br/>
<br/>
"Mike and Carlos left to get started on getting their second betas. Your own beta went home. Keith did as well."<br/>
<br/>
It's the type of matter of fact manner from Maria that Kristy isn't used to. Oh Kristy and Maria aren't best friends or anything but when both of their parents are big shots around town the fact they know one another is certainly not surprising. So it's not to say that they're total strangers either and Kristy likes Maria plenty. Enough that when Maria contacted her about wanting to catch up and show her the video stuff that she'd been thinking of getting involved in, Kristy didn't really hesitate to agree to meet up with her.<br/>
<br/>
"They're getting started on that already?"<br/>
<br/>
"No time like the present," Maria replies. "They're going to get Kendra first for Mike and are going to use her to ensnare Marcos Rivera." You have, through Kristy, a vague notion of a "Marcos" that plays for Westside's soccer team. "You should think of who your second is going to be as well."<br/>
<br/>
"Already?" you ask with a bit of surprise. "I've only been Kristy for fifteen minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need to change tonight or anything," she states. "You don't need to switch into another mask if you don't want to either. But we <i>are</i> trying to see what this changes so even if you're staying as Kristy you should give it a day or two of thought."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll keep it in mind," you say as you begin to turn around.<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you going?"<br/>
<br/>
You'd taken two or three steps but instantly stop and turn back to Maria. "Home," you state simply, "I just figured it'd be good to check in with you before I left."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not a good idea, Will," she states. "It usually takes a day or a night's sleep for the memories and personality to come in full. I was going to say that I should keep you company until as late as you can stay."<br/>
<br/>
Does it take that long? Seems like you got everything immediately near as you can tell. So you're not really about to listen to that. Besides it's late. "Well Kristy doesn't have a curfew but she likes to be in bed before midnight. It's already ten-thirty so..."<br/>
<br/>
You let the thought hang there and Maria seems to grab at it though not in the way you'd thought. "Hmm, well I suppose some stuff comes in bits and pieces, especially important information like that," she muses more to herself than you. "Do you know where she lives?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, it's there if I focus on it," you answer.<br/>
<br/>
Maria regards you thoughtfully for a moment before she relents. "Alright then, but if Kristy goes to bed before midnight then I'd suggest doing that as soon as you get to her house," she explains. "That way you can get sleep and get all of the memories while keeping risk of messing up low."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll keep it in mind," you tell her, "and the beta thing too. Plus we've got the goal of using Kristy to help my Will Prescott's popularity. I'll keep all of it in mind."<br/>
<br/>
With that you give Maria a curt goodbye and leave, heading out of the building and to your car. On the drive to your new home a part of you, the part that's actually Kristy, can't help but be a bit perturbed by how off her friend seemed to be. It emphasizes to you that you can't make any mistakes. So long as you're around even a single person Kristy knows you'll have to let the butterfly emerge from her cocoon.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Welcome home, Christine," greets a blonde woman with a warm smile once you're near the stairs. "Your visit with your friend went well?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, for a bit," you say, "but something came up and she was needed back at home."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, a shame I am sure," the woman says sympathetically.<br/>
<br/>
But you can only return a happy expression to her. "For now but we realized we needed to keep in touch," you tell her, "so we're going to be in more regular contact."<br/>
<br/>
"That is wonderful to hear then," she states as you begin to walk up the stairs. However you stop yourself and turn back to her.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Mila, speaking of irregular contact are mom and dad here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your father is in his room and your mother in her office, I believe," she answers. "Do you need them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, no, I was just wondering since I hadn't seen them today. Oh! I haven't seen Patrick either. He's here right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Relaxing in his room."<br/>
<br/>
"Gotcha," you reply. "Anyway I'm going to turn in for the night."<br/>
<br/>
"Understood. Good night Christine."<br/>
<br/>
"'Night Mila," you say as you head up the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
Mila, originally from Ukraine, came into the Carlson home in her early twenties as an au pair for the toddler Kristy. However she proved to be so good with Kristy that her parents helped get her permanent residency and she's been taking care of the Carlson children and indeed largely running the domestic help ever since.<br/>
<br/>
And it hits you, as you reach the top of the stairs, that while having domestic help is as natural to Kristy as breathing it's completely alien to you. Kristy herself is a humble girl, something she attributes to her closeness with Mila who grew up, she'd said, quite poor. So though Kristy may have money, she's keenly aware that others do not and so tries not to take what she has for granted or rub it in the faces of others. Yet it's still an inescapable part of who she is and thus an inescapable part of who you now are. So it's something, you realize, you'll have to get used to.<br/>
<br/>
Just like this house... no, this mansion. It's bigger than anything you've ever seen and you feel like your own house could fit in here a hundred times over and there'd still be plenty of room left over. Domestic servants, a fancy kitchen, a lovely and heated indoor pool with an accompanying hot tub and sauna. A garage that itself could fit the Prescott home inside of it. Lots of acreage and thus lovely natural scenery all around. Kristy could live as a hermit in this place and never want for anything.<br/>
<br/>
Well except her friends. Kristy has been very careful in cultivating her friendships. For obvious reasons she's always had to be mindful about who acts friendly because they like her and who acts friendly because they like her money and she's glad that she's been able to find those who fall into the former category. Amy Rhodes, Susie Maitland, Kerri McKenna and Susanna Stillwell are thus people she places a great amount of value in, as much as she does anything she owns. There are other friends of course, most that she's still in the "watchful" stage of but there's also Diana Lord, the friend that she values <i>more</i> than anything she owns who's been with her since the fourth grade.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, if Kristy Carlson has cultivated these friendships then they must be very valuable indeed. It makes you realize, then, that introducing one of them -- well not Susie as she's spoken for -- to Will Prescott would be a massive boon in your old identity's popularity. Fairfax had also wanted you to look for a second beta for yourself and one of them -- Susie included this time -- might make for a good one.<br/>
<br/>
But you haven't even settled fully into being Kristy Carlson yet. It's probably too early to be thinking about betas.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221114413
author_id: rugal
title: A Morning Pick-Me-Up
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wake up the next morning and are at first surprised. This room is definitely not your room. In fact it is much bigger than your room you realize as you sit up. The ceiling is higher and the room itself is so spacious that it seems as if both your room and your brother's could fit inside of it. There are dressers, tables, a fancy desk, a nice entertainment system and a large sit down vanity. A nice bookshelf with many books -- some for study and others just to read -- stands against the wall to the left of the bed. A bed that is covered in the softest sheets and blanket and pillow you've ever encountered. On the other other side you see an open door next to it and a fancy bathroom through the doorway. Next to it is a walk-in large closet and you suspect, no you know, that one connects to the other.<br/>
<br/>
Because this room belongs to Kristy Carlson, which would mean that it belongs to you, no?<br/>
<br/>
With a yawn and a stretch you let your feet dangle over the side the bed before pushing yourself off and heading into the bathroom. Kristy's own private bathroom. First you head over to the sink to brush your teeth and take a moment to look once more at the girl reflected in the mirror. She's cute you realize, though not in the way that grabs attention like Bethany Turner. Nor is she the kind of stand out beauty like Chelsea Cooper and she certainly doesn't radiate an aura of imperious confidence like Amanda Ferguson. In fact, were you not inside her skin and inside her head Kristy would never strike you as being as well off as she is.<br/>
<br/>
Though the pajamas you slip off as you head into the shower, cool and comfortable silk, might give her away.<br/>
<br/>
Even up until you went to sleep you still had nerves and doubts but unclothed however and with her body on full display, you like where you are. Kristy has just a bit of baby fat but it's enough to make her well shaped and can't help but to hug yourself and appreciate how soft it makes her body feel. And you like how the water feels as it rains down onto you and slides down your body, over your curves and in between breasts that are a perfect handful ... and quite sensitive you find as you soap and scrub them along with the rest of your body.<br/>
<br/>
In fact you'd restrained yourself last night and really had gotten changed and into bed not long after you'd arrived at your new home. You hadn't gone to sleep immediately though. You made a quick check of social media and messages from friends and then grabbed the book she'd been working through as Kristy likes to do about thirty to forty-five minutes of reading in bed before going to sleep if she can manage it.<br/>
<br/>
So this is your first opportunity to get more familiar with her body and it's a lot more sensitive than you'd have thought as it reacts to the water and your scrubbing and the occasional bit of prodding though it's as you wash lower, past the hairs that Kristy keeps nice and trim and neat, that you experience just how sensitive she is. So sensitive that you yelp and pull back in shock. You're curious to know just what going further would feel like yet you're also feeling bashful, as if you would be disrespecting Kristy by messing around with her body like that.<br/>
<br/>
But it's your body now, isn't it? Rather, you're Kristy now aren't you? You would be doing nothing Kristy herself hasn't done countless times before, even in the shower before school. Often in the shower before school, in fact, as it's quiet and solitary and everything just washes away. It can help wake her up as well if she's feeling especially tired, a bit of a morning pick-me-up she likes to think.<br/>
<br/>
Your fingers, then, run down through the neatly trimmed hair and begin probing and rubbing. You search Kristy's mind to find images to help you. Boys that she thinks are attractive fill her mind, one especially... yet you're not so settled in to her that you're that comfortable with thinking of them. Instead you focus your mental attention on the girls she knows and as you think of and visualize each one and the things that might be fun to do your breath becomes sharper and faster, you whimper and moan and with one big vocalization you feel both exhausted and refreshed, taking a moment to catch yourself as the water cascades down your naked body.<br/>
<br/>
It's thinking like this, viewing Kristy's friends in ways she never would, that makes you realize you it's probably better to spend at least the rest of the day getting integrated with your new identity. Focus on getting settled in before thinking about betas and who to turn into one or who to set up with one.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"... so I told him that if I see them in the music room the next time I come in for practice I'd break his stupid oboe over his even stupider head," says Susanna Stillwell in frustration.<br/>
<br/>
It's before first period and she'd been relating a story of what she'd said to Douglas Watts in eighth period yesterday. Kristy, playing viola in the orchestra, had been present and watched her pull him aside but hadn't heard what exactly had gone down. It was a juicy story of her coming by in for her extra practice session first period and catching Douglas and his new girlfriend, April Schofield, getting intimate in the music room.<br/>
<br/>
"As funny as that'd be you might have overreacted," you say. You hold your index finger and thumb close together. "Just a little bit."<br/>
<br/>
"That's pretty normal for her," Diana Lord titters, "at least when it comes to her Holy Place."<br/>
<br/>
It was an exaggeration on her part. Susanna, a clarinetist, takes the orchestra very seriously. She's a nice, fun girl to be sure but when one's been learning woodwinds since the second grade, is in both the regular and chamber orchestras, takes an individual practice class and is one of the apples of Mr. Emmett's eye it's only a slight exaggeration because Susanna takes the orchestra quite seriously and she's made no secret of her dream of going to Julliard.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't need you laughing about it! I'm serious!" Susanna exclaims and that just causes Diana to go into a full laughing fit. Susanna can only look down as her face turns red.<br/>
<br/>
"I know you're being serious," you coo sympathetically as you place an arm around her. "It's not your fault that <i>some</i> people are just so ... declasse," you say as you give Diana the smuggest look you can muster.<br/>
<br/>
"The princess finally shows her true colors, huh?" asks Diana with mock offense.<br/>
<br/>
"Finally?" you ask in faux surprise. "Diana, dear, I have always been a person of superior social standing."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," comes Susanna's muffled voice before she lifts her head up. "Riff raff like <i>us</i> will never be able to measure to her superior Habsburgian breeding." She says as she pushes away from you and towards Diana, sticking her tongue out at you.<br/>
<br/>
This causes the three of you to break into a giggling fit. Of Kristy's friends, Diana and Susanna are the ones she's known the longest; both since elementary school though Diana a little bit longer. As such she knows with absolute certainty that she'd can trust their friendship. Diana herself isn't hurting for cash as her father is the officer in charge of Fort Suffolk and even if he wasn't the Colonel would certainly never tolerate his daughter having designs like that.<br/>
<br/>
Susanna, however, comes from a different stock as she lives in the, again you'll charitably say older, area west of the Hoover Shopping Center. Her family works hard and Susanna does as well with a job at Thrifty Nifties that she originally picked as its location meant it was quick to get to after school... and partly because of Kristy. When one of her clarinets had broken early last school year Kristy had offered to pay for a new one but Susanna would have none of it, insisting that she'd pay for it herself. She didn't want to be seen as leech she'd said though Kristy knew her well enough to know that it was probably as much pride and not wanting to be seen as a charity case as much as anything else that motivated her.<br/>
<br/>
Her other friends are wonderful too though often have their own things going on too, especially early in the morning. So Kristy values these before school hang out sessions with her two oldest and closest friends and sees them, in a way, as another type of morning pick-me-up.<br/>
<br/>
Though it's as the three of you are talking and laughing and other students come filtering in that you spot two people that fill Kristy with a rather complex set of emotions. One is Rae Crawford, an always stylishly dressed girl whose Instagram page has started to blow up in popularity. The other is a girl notorious around school for the trouble she gets into and the headaches she causes and whose presence has a tendency to trigger feelings of anxiousness in Kristy.<br/>
<br/>
Alex Day. A girl who, in a way, is like a funhouse mirror reflection of Kristy herself.</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211144131
author_id: rugal
title: Like Night and Day
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Alex Day gives you goosebumps. Whenever you see her you want to tense up. Whenever she walks near you, you feel tingly. It's an uncomfortable feeling that you hate because it's a reminder of something that you would like very much to forget. Memories that if you could you'd completely erase from your mind.<br/>
<br/>
It was late in the summer after sixth grade. Your parents had come to you with news that had them both excited. They'd been trying and trying, they'd said, and their efforts and a look at your grades -- always very good -- had convinced the St. Francis Xaviers boarding school to accept you as a student for the next academic year. One of the most elite schools not just in the country where the sons and daughters of the rich, powerful and influential received not just an academic education but a valuable social one as well. Your parents, of course, were thrilled. However you didn't have the heart to tell them that you weren't. Nothing about it sounded appealing but for them you suppressed it and smiled and nodded.<br/>
<br/>
What followed was the worst experience of your life.<br/>
<br/>
For a start you were required to live at the campus some miles outside of town. Isolated enough to keep away "outside influences" and isolated from your friends. So you tried to make new friends but ran into the problem of an elite boarding school like St. Xaviers: there you were nothing special. So many kids who came from families with wealth that made your own family's seem middle class. That didn't bother you in and of itself, rather it was the attitude of the others, haughty and dismissive of you, that did. Plus as a local raised in Saratoga Falls you'd been regarded as a "hick" which, of course, made no sense but to students like the mutants, as the nickname goes, that didn't matter.<br/>
<br/>
Nobody made sure to remind you of this more than Alex Day. She was "from" Saratoga Falls in that her family had purchased land in the area and moved there a little prior to their daughter's enrollment. In reality her family was old money New England stock with a history, so you'd heard, that stretched back to the days of Hamilton and Jefferson. To someone like that your own family's wealth and history was quaint.<br/>
<br/>
You did not belong in that place and you were reminded of it every day. Before you had been a big fish in a small pond but at St. Francis Xavier's you were a small fish in an ocean of great white sharks. You hated it and by the next year, eighth grade, you were in Schuyler as your grades hadn't been "where they should be" to continue justifying your enrollment.<br/>
<br/>
But among the "middling sorts" (as the mutants liked to say) you felt much more at home. So imagine your shock when on the first day of school last year who do you see in your English class but Alex Day herself looking radically different than what you remembered. The uniform and fancy clothes replaced by stuff that looked much plainer, her long hair chopped off and much shorter, girls like Davina Macklin and Victoria Benjamin replaced by ones like Rae Caldwell and Holly Floyd (among others).<br/>
<br/>
You'd wondered if her family had fallen on hard times, if she herself fell victim to the same things you had. You wanted to settle things with her on the one hand as well but on the other her own teasing that you could still remember caused her mere presence to make your hairs stand on end. Then you'd heard the story: that she'd had a falling out with a friend, painted obscene graffiti on a building and got kicked out, enrolling at Eastman and reinventing herself as a "cool juvenile delinquent".<br/>
<br/>
You don't associate with that crowd so it was another reason to keep you away from her. For her part she never seemed to say anything to you and you wonder if she had forgotten all about you. But it was probably better this way because you're not sure what you'd say or how you'd act if she did try to talk you. In a way you can see some vague similarities in the both of you but the reflection, whatever it is, isn't accurate beyond the superficial details.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Kristy's feelings about Alex and especially her year at St. Francis Xavier's are strong to the point where you lost yourself once you saw Alex. By the time you came back you were already in your seat in Ms. Schaeffer's first period calculus class. It's a serious class and Schaeffer is a serious teacher so you don't have the ability to drift off and instead have to get through it as best you can though thankfully Kristy is bright enough to make it easier than you'd have thought.<br/>
<br/>
In fact you're able to get through the first few periods of the day without any hiccups. You're amazed at just how well the stuff from the book works that you've been able to make it through nearly half a day with nobody suspecting that "Kristy Carlson" might not be who she appears. Especially as before yesterday you had never even heard of her. It's as you're leaving Cussler's current issues class third period, heading off with Amy Rhodes and Susie Maitland to the fourth period lunch you share (Diana and Susanna have fifth along with Kerri McKenna) that you're given your first real shock.<br/>
<br/>
"Kristy Carlson!" calls out a voice that immediately causes you to freeze up. You know who it belongs to, yet you don't want to see and confirm it. But it doesn't matter as you feel a hand on the small of your back and see the voice's owner slide into your periphery. "What is up?" asks Alex. "It's been a long time since we've talked huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"A... a little bit," you stutter. "What, uh, what brings you around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whaaaat, I can't talk to another ex-mutie?" she asks. "Not like there's a lot of us around here."<br/>
<br/>
"Um, well no, that's not..."<br/>
<br/>
"I've been wantin' to talk to ya for a little while now actually," she continues, "but I've never had an excuse ya know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh."<br/>
<br/>
Alex shifts to stand right in front of you and gazes up (because she's quite short) with a grin. "So I figured hey, fuck the excuses right? Who needs 'em?" she explains. "But I guess catching up is as much of an excuse as any, huh? 'Cause I was thinking we could hang out after school for a little bit. Ya know, see what's been goin' on since we said sayonara to Hubris Hall."<br/>
<br/>
"Excuse me, but I don't think Kristy wants--" Amy starts but a side-eyed glare from Alex causes her mouth to snap shut. Much like Kristy, neither her nor Susie hang around the type of crowd that Alex does.<br/>
<br/>
"So whaddaya say? You in?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't..." you start not sure of how to say. Kristy's own feelings are overwhelming you and you can feel yourself getting hot as your stomach twists itself into knots. "Would anyone else be there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'unno," Alex shrugs, "Rae and Izzy maybe? Maybe not? If you want 'em around." She casts another glance to the side and catches both Amy and Susie glaring hard at her. "Well look, it's all up to you okay? You wanna chill for a bit, meet me up at the front of the school after eighth and we'll do whatever."<br/>
<br/>
With that she scampers off and you lose sight of her in the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what her deal is," Susie says as the three of you begin walking once more. "Didn't you say she teased you when went to Xavier's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I don't know," you say barely able to think straight. "Maybe she wants to apologize?"<br/>
<br/>
"Or she's up to something," Amy adds. "Even if you just think about Eastman, well, you know how she is."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>have you thought of a second beta?</i><br/>
<br/>
That's the question that Maria had texted to you just after you had sat down with Amy and Susie and some others like Morgan Hurley (a cellist from the orchestra) and Shannon Berger (a member of the volleyball team). And a few boys as well, none of who hold Kristy's interest.<br/>
<br/>
But Kristy's interest in boys right now isn't what has your interest, rather it's the question Maria had asked and the possibilities that present themselves. Any of Kristy's friends would of course make for a good second beta and you're still keeping them in mind but that conversation with Alex preoccupies your mind at the moment.<br/>
<br/>
If Alex wants to hang out and leave it up to you then you know the perfect place. Someone like Alex, with her family and ties to Xaviers and the Eastman underground scene, would make for a good beta and your sure for those reasons Fairfax would deem it a good choice. Maybe through her you could get your foot in the door to Xavier's. Imagine how impressed the others would be if you could turn a mutie into a beta. Alex could certainly help you out there.<br/>
<br/>
But what if you didn't want to hang out with her alone?<br/>
<br/>
Kristy cannot help but get a bit awestruck by Rae Caldwell because Rae radiates her own, unique energy and damn it she's just <i>cool</i>. She doesn't seem to care what others think and is at once aloof and thorny and yet that makes her more intriguing which makes her cool. If you could get in good with Alex then you might be able to get in good with Rae and can you imagine what someone like her could do for Will Prescott's popularity if you could slip a mask onto her?<br/>
<br/>
But it could all just be a pipe dream anyway and Alex is trouble. Kristy's own feelings, her own doubts and her own distaste are playing heavy on you too and they're all saying that getting involved with Alex could be a bad idea. Besides if you wanted an in for Xavier's, Kristy has other ways of making it happen. Ways that are, admittedly, about as enticing to her as hanging out with Alex.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111441313
author_id: rugal
title: Options Distasteful to the Host
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Kristy's feelings on the matter are strong and as you're still settling in you decide that it's best to run with them for the time being. So you text Maria back largely telling her as much; that you're still looking at options but haven't come to a conclusion yet but you'll have one by the end of the day. You get a simple one word message, <i>okay</i>, back in response.<br/>
<br/>
"What was that about?" asks Susie as you put your phone down.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that was just someone I kind of reconnected with yesterday," you say and regret it because that immediately leads to noises and looks of inquiry. "Okay so you know Maria Vasquez?"<br/>
<br/>
"The Westside cheerleader?" Shannon asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You know her?" Amy asks Shannon.<br/>
<br/>
"Well I know <i>of</i> her," Shannon states. "I've seen her and some of the other cheerleaders out at Catherine's a few times. She's, like, a total bimbo. Well that's what Eva and Jessica have told me anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, the twins?" Amy responds. There's crossover more crossover than you'd have thought between Eastman and Westside students, Kristy's mind tells you, and the Garners especially are notorious for being "hot twin cheerleaders" that lots of guys fantasize about and for being friendly with some of Alyssa Randall's group. "How do <i>you</i> know them?"<br/>
<br/>
"From middle school?" Shannon answers. "We're not, like, best friends but we still hang out some times and we see each other at parties. I dunno."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh," comes the curt reply from Amy.<br/>
<br/>
Shannon wilts a bit at that. Not for any particular reason but Amy tends to have that effect on others. She's a bigger girl, tall and unlike Kristy definitely falls well into being curvy though she manages to wear it well and she's pretty and fashionable besides so she doesn't get the same flak that others might not get. But she likes to inquire and press forward and then seems to be vaguely unsatisfied with what she finds in a way that, though she doesn't mean it, can intimidate others. It's actually kind of amusing, you think, as there's something inadvertently motherly about it and it somewhat reminds you, you think, of how your own mother can be.<br/>
<br/>
Not that Kristy would think of Amy as motherly otherwise since she parties and even hangs out at the Warehouse some times.<br/>
<br/>
Still you silently thank her because it's taken the attention off of you and your talking to Maria and having to be vague about why and how you'd "reconnected" and instead leads into a general conversation about other students from other schools everyone knows or associates with or even has thoughts about. Morgan for instance practically jumps to mention how hot she thinks Cody Schaeffer, a member of Westside's tennis team, is.<br/>
<br/>
It does make you think as well about your current situation. Sure Kristy maintains a casual acquaintanceship with Maria but maybe having more options to associate with the others wouldn't be a bad idea either if you're looking for someone to fill that second beta slot that Fairfax has been pushing on you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Lunch is over, it's partway through Kristy's fifth period biology class and you can't really remember what's been talked about. Kristy herself has never been the science type so try as she might she doesn't find the class particularly interesting either and you can't help but feel a little bad for Mr. Zigler. He's a nice enough teacher but you guess you'd really have to be a science nerd to get anything out of it. It's not a particularly hard class so most, like Kristy, take it only because they need a science credit so this wouldn't even be the first time her attention has drifted.<br/>
<br/>
Though in this case it's not just zoning out or stealing glances at Clayton McShane, a baseball player with a strong country boy build and a friendly easygoing personality that she can't help but to find endearing and attractive, but rather the consideration of that second beta. You don't even know if it's required to get a second one but the others seem to see it as the thing to do and being the newbie you don't want to fight against the current.<br/>
<br/>
Yet you're still stuck on who to even get. One of her friends still seems like the easiest option and after that conversation at lunch maybe you should think about who, like Shannon or even Amy (who herself mentioned some people from there she knows), could easily associate with students at Westside as certainly compared to them Kristy's more content to stick around her Eastman friends.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's Alex and the opportunities she provides: a chance to get close to Rae Caldwell and to maybe get you an in to Xavier's. But Kristy's own dislike of her is strong and even thinking about her means having to fight to clamp down on those negative thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
Besides it's not as if Kristy herself couldn't potentially get you in. It was a realization you'd had at lunch. Kristy's parents are out hobnobbing at the country club nearly every weekend. Often they've wanted her to come out too because on the one hand it's good for Kristy to already start making the connections that can help her out later in life. On the other hand their busy schedules mean that it's not at all rare for Kristy to go most of the week having only small amounts of contact with them so in a way it's a bit of family time.<br/>
<br/>
Family time that Kristy turns down more often than not and though she feels bad about it, her distaste for the elitist snobbery of the clientele is as strong as it is for Alex. You can't help to muse that that year at Xavier's seems to have left a large impression on her. But of course, though you are Kristy you're also <i>not</i> Kristy and much like with Alex you wonder if it might be a good idea to fight against her own negative feelings and join her parents for a trip out to the country club this weekend. After all, there are more than a few Muties who hang around there as well and if you can just get one alone...<br/>
<br/>
It's about that time when the bell signaling the end of the period rings and snaps you back to reality. You're still wondering what to actually do as you gather your stuff and head out of class.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You let out a sigh of relief as the bell rings signaling the end of the day. World literature is one of the classes that Kristy really enjoys (and given her proclivity for reading you're not surprised) but it's about as non-bullshit a class as you're going to find. Not only does a student need a teacher recommendation but Mr. Kelly has to approve both it <i>and</i> a submitted essay by the student. Which might seem a bit draconian but it's only to weed out the people who think it'll be another blowoff class. Mr. Kelly is a very good teacher and easy to get along with, at least Kristy thinks so, but he's also passionate about the material and thus takes it seriously.<br/>
<br/>
What you're taking seriously now, and what you've spent all day putting a decision off on however, is still the matter of getting another beta. Eighth period has let out and you'd promised Fairfax that you'd have a decision made by now. But it's harder than you'd have thought you have to admit. For one there's a lot of options and for another Kristy's own instincts dislike <i>all</i> of them.<br/>
<br/>
For a start there's her friends. One of them would be easy to nab for blatantly obvious reasons and specifically there's a few who will make your connection to Westside and thus the other members of your group less tenuous than it currently is. But for also blatantly obvious reasons Kristy dislikes the idea of doing something like that to one of her friends.<br/>
<br/>
To go to the country club too presents its own problems due to Kristy's own dislike of the place and the clientele that inhabit it. Though growing up rich she feels at home right here, at this school and among its crowd. That genteelness is, to be frank, completely alien to her.<br/>
<br/>
Alex as well. You have to fight with a lot of strong, negative emotions to be around her long enough to for the replacement to go off and even then that'd probably mean having to switch from Kristy's mask into her's because you'd bet that even golemized the distaste from Kristy would be strong for her.<br/>
<br/>
And that in and of itself presents a whole new problem. You get a second beta and then what? You switch and live as that person until it's decided that maybe you need a third beta? And a fourth? A fifth? Where does it end? And say you get it and don't switch, then you just have a thing to order around but what use do you really get out of that? Besides though you've only been her for a day, being Kristy is comfortable. Rich with none of the pretension, nice to look at without being ogled constantly. Kristy in spite of her wealth is a normal girl who lives a normal life that she enjoys. She stands out enough to have a nice social circle and close friends but not so much that it feels like a burden.<br/>
<br/>
It's a pretty sweet place to be you have to admit. Why complicate it?</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213213
author_id: seuzz
title: The Wingman
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So the first thing we need is some of your hair," Philip says.<br/>
<br/>
You raise your hand. "Wait, lemme get this straight. You want me to, uh, be the boss of Javits?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of his beta," Philip says. "Using your hair in the mask we're going to make of him will allow you to—"<br/>
<br/>
"And you're making a mask of him? So I could even, uh—" You glance at Cindy. It's <i>still</i> hard to reconcile the slim, beautiful cheerleader with your beetle-browed friend. "Turn myself into him? Like Keith's turned himself into Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right.," Philip says. Cindy titters.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what if I want to be somebody else?"<br/>
<br/>
Philip frowns. "You can only be one person at a time, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"No, what I mean is, what if I want to be someone <i>instead</i> of Seth? Some other guy?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. "Like who?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. But if I'm going to have a beta—"<br/>
<br/>
"It needs to be Seth, Will," Philip says. "Someone needs to, as you put it, be the boss of Seth Javits. On account of—" He makes a face.<br/>
<br/>
"So give him to Keith."<br/>
<br/>
"Keith already has a beta. Cindy's his beta, he's just pretending to be the beta, same as you could pretend to be Seth when Seth is—"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't Seth be someone else's beta?"<br/>
<br/>
Exasperation now begins to sound in Philip's voice.<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says, "because everyone else already has a beta. You're the only one who can take him."<br/>
<br/>
"How come is that?" Mike interrupts. "Why can't we each have more than one beta? Is that what the book says?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well ... No."<br/>
<br/>
"So how come—?"<br/>
<br/>
"There has to be some kind of limit." Philip hunches his shoulders, as though he's feeling badgered. "Otherwise someone could have used these things to conquer the world already. To have turned <i>everyone</i> into a beta."<br/>
<br/>
There's a thump and a crash from the other side of the wall. Carlos darts from the room. "Well, we better figure out fast what the hell we're gonna do about Seth," Mike says. "Before he gets loose."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, there's still a long argument to be had before anything is decided. Philip insists that it's safer to leave everyone with only a single beta, in case there's some unwritten rule that prevents people from having two or more, but the others are now keen to find out if they could get themselves two of the things. You keep quiet.<br/>
<br/>
Philip finally relents. "We'll try it," he says. "But someone's going to have to volunteer for the experiment." He glances around, holding each of his friend's gaze for a moment. "It could be dangerous. It could be <i>fatal.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do it," Cindy says. You jump at her words. "I've just about run out of ways of torturing him," she adds with a light smirk.<br/>
<br/>
So Keith strips down to nothingness—and shows absolutely no shame at showing off Cindy's slim legs and bowl-like hips, her globe-like breasts and the tuft of hair between her legs—and lies down on the cold floor. Philip kneels next to her, lays a hand across her brow, mutters under his breath, and pulls. A bluish mask appears in his hand, and where Cindy was—<br/>
<br/>
Gah! You quickly avert your eyes from Keith's bony, spotty, hairy frame.<br/>
<br/>
Carlos nudges you. "Come on," he says, "Let's talk outside." You follow him and the fake Eva Garner out.<br/>
<br/>
It's drizzling again, so you huddle close to the building.<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the deal?" Carlos asks. "How come you don't want Seth as a beta?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "It would be kind of weird having Cindy as a girlfriend," you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"I think it would be kind of hot," Eva smirks.<br/>
<br/>
"It's Keith under there. That would be weird.<br/>
<br/>
"So you have someone else in mind?" Carlos asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not specifically," you admit. "Except, I guess it should be someone who could help with this whole, you know—" You can't help making a face. "This whole 'improve Will Prescott' project?" You hunch your shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
"We could always get another cheerleader for you," Eva says. "If we can double up, we could get the <i>whole fucking squad</i> pulling for you."<br/>
<br/>
"You should look for an influencer from somewhere else," Carlos says. "And I know who, too," he adds, turning a grin onto Eva. "Our dear, dumb brother."<br/>
<br/>
"No!" Eva shrieks. "Marc? No!"<br/>
<br/>
"He's perfect," Carlos insists. "And we were talking about how <i>someone</i> should take over for him, so all three of—" But he breaks off in the teeth of the gale of laughter that rips from Eva.<br/>
<br/>
"You think Marc would be a good choice?" you ask when Eva's amusement has subsided.<br/>
<br/>
"No." Carlos rolls his eyes. "I suggested him 'cos I thought he'd be a <i>terrible</i> choice. He'd be perfect for the job, Will. The asshole's only friends with <i>everyone</i> at school, he could get you into all the hot parties—"<br/>
<br/>
"Into Hannah's hot pussy," Eva says, <i>sotto voce.</i> Your ears prick up.<br/>
<br/>
"—and just generally, you know, vouch for you." Carlos cocks his head. "You'll wanna start hanging out at Kelsey's clambakes, and I guess Mike and me could get you in, but I think Marc's got more pull with Kelsey."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, totally," Eva says. "Kelsey wants to jump Marc's bones so bad—"<br/>
<br/>
"She doesn't."<br/>
<br/>
"She totally does! Why do you think she's such a raging bitch toward Hannah?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought she was getting her clit scratched by Karl."<br/>
<br/>
Eva rolls her eyes. "That's just a friends-with-benefits thing. Except without being friends with him. God, someone so needs to pull Karl aside and explain to him how he needs to get his head out of his ass and his cock out of her cooch, he's just <i>humiliating</i> himself—"<br/>
<br/>
Whatever this gossip is about, it's all new to you so most of it goes over your head. It circles back around eventually, though, to the leaping off point, namely that Kelsey has exclusive Saturday night parties at her place, and that if you really want to be someone at the school you need to attend them and to be known to attend them. That sounds intriguing until you learn that Geoff Mansfield and his friends are other regulars there.<br/>
<br/>
But that's as far as talk gets before the door to the climate unit opens.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, look who's joined the team," Eva says as a very pinched-looking Seth Javits comes out, along with Philip and Cindy. "Was it fun? Or was it fatal?"<br/>
<br/>
"It seems to have worked," Philip says, though he doesn't look too pleased at having to report the success. "Um, Keith, how about you show them?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy giggles. "Okay. Seth? Get down on your knees." Seth, his face flaming with anger, drops to a knee. "Both knees. Get on all fours," Cindy orders him, and he complies. "Now bark like a dog. Bark!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ruff ruff. Ruff. Arf,</i> Seth says. His face looks like it's about to melt off the front of his skull.<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't he adorable?" Cindy chortles. "I have my own pet Seth Javits now!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get in trouble at home for missing dinner, but you don't really care. Upstairs you take until midnight to do your homework because you keep pausing to scroll through x2z.com and other social media sites for ideas for a beta. Carlos's suggestion has got you thinking that you should choose a kind of wingman as your beta: someone hip and cool and totally plugged in to the school social scene.<br/>
<br/>
That's what you explain to "Maria Vasquez" when she texts you later that night. She says that's an excellent idea, and that she'll think about possibilities for you.<br/>
<br/>
Philip consults with his fellow conspirators first, though. Or, at least, he talks about it with Carlos, for you get a text from "Jessica Garner" the next morning just as you're pulling in to school, with a request that you skip second period to hang out with her in the library. You have "Film as Literature" that period, and though it's not a good idea to skip Mr. Hawks's classes, you're happy to bail on account of you share it with a "Keith Tilley" that you now know is a fake.<br/>
<br/>
"So, we still think Marc should be your number one choice," Jessica tells you when you're huddling in the library, sitting so close you're almost cheek-to-cheek with her. (She smells wonderful, like lavender talcum with a hint of vanilla.) "He rates an A in all the categories you'll want. But we came up with a couple of other names."<br/>
<br/>
The first is Justin Roth, a guy you know by sight only. He has a reputation for being a stoner, but he's good with girls and he's got a lot of cred with the rougher element at the school without himself being thuggish. "You probably <i>don't</i> want to hang out with him," Jessica cautions you, "but he can get you in places where the rest of us probably won't be able to help you."<br/>
<br/>
The second is Ian Patton, an indie-style musician who like Roth is also a better fit with the rougher kinds of crowds.<br/>
<br/>
The third is Michael Allen. "He's on the baseball team, you know," Jessica says, "so he can get you in with those guys, some of the better class of jocks. And he's going out with Catherine. Muskov, you know? You need to be hanging out at her place as much as you can anyway, which isn't hard, but if he's your beta it'll be like greased butter to get in."<br/>
<br/>
"How soon do I need to pick someone?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs. "We can get Marc anytime. Probably get any of the others by tonight too." She gives her boobs a surreptitious squeeze. "We got five sets of these we can dangle as bait.<br/>
<br/>
"But if you want to take longer," she adds as you hesitate, "we can keep ourselves busy by rounding up our own second betas."<br/>
<br/>
You don't want to be left behind, so her words galvanize you into a decision.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132132
author_id: seuzz
title: The Things a Girl Will Do For You
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'm gonna get two betas of my own, right?" you ask Jessica. "This guy, whoever I pick, and someone else. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. But you should probably get one of them set up good first before you pick the second. That way," she explains, "you know what to look for when you go to pick the second one."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you guys looking for?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Her expression turns shifty. "Well, Keith has Seth already. Right? Josiah— Well, just between us, Josiah's doing his own thing."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fingering himself. I mean, as Chelsea he's <i>sort of</i> helping out with this project, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay, I get it," you say, and try to flush from your head the image of Josiah Shank pleasuring himself with a cheerleader's body. It's hard to let go of, though, for at the same time it's an image of Chelsea Cooper with her fingers up herself. "But you and ... and Mike and Philip," you add in a much lower voice. "The second betas that you're getting, are they going to—?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're not really thinking about your project with them," Jessica confesses. "I mean, we'll help you out as best we can from, you know, wherever we are. But we're not thinking, like, how we're going to be able to help you out. You need to concentrate on yourself, Will, on who will help <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Well, I get what you mean about Marc being perfect, but—"<br/>
<br/>
And with that caveat you segue into a conversation about the pros and cons associated with each of the other candidates, plus a few more that Carlos comes up with off the top of his head.<br/>
<br/>
It's a close decision and could have gone in any direction, but you end by deciding that Justin Roth would be the most useful person to take as a beta.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get a text from Jessica just before last period, telling you that it will be five o'clock at least before they'll be able to convert Justin into a beta for you: <i>We need to get our minivan to do it in,</i> she explains, <i>so not till after school some time.</i> That's okay, because Caleb wants to hang out with you after school anyway. You follow him to his house, where you sprawl on his bed and talk about the weekend at the Warehouse, the video that you're doing with Carlos and Mike, and ... whatever plans you've got for the week. He seems irritated when you tell you him that you don't have any particular plans, and he frowns deeply when you confess that you might or might not call him up if any plans develop. "Depends on what's going on," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like on, uh, who's going to be there and what we're doing."<br/>
<br/>
He turns very frosty at that, asking what kind of people and activities he would <i>not</i> be welcome at. You try explaining that it depends on the sort of thing that <i>he</i> might or might not be interested in, which only leads him to shrilly ask what sorts of things <i>you</i> might be up for that <i>he</i> might not. You seize with relief on the text from Jessica telling you to get your ass out to Potsdam Park ASAP. Caleb's not any happier to hear that you're running off to meet the Garner girls, and a sub-Arctic chill freezes your back as you dash from his bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
Jessica is pacing beside a minivan in the parking lot, and she hurries up even before you shut off your engine. "Jesus," she hisses. "Where the fuck were you? North Dakota?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was at Caleb's," you retort. "And traffic was bad."<br/>
<br/>
She answers by thrusting a pair of scissors at your face. "The fuck?" you yell, and flinch.<br/>
<br/>
"Hold still! We forgot to get any fucking hair off you—" She snips at the side of your head. "And my sister's in there sucking Justin off."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" you cry again.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly!"<br/>
<br/>
"Dude! Is Mike, uh—?"<br/>
<br/>
She flushes hard. "No! We had to delay things until you got here, and it was the only way to— Shut up." She shudders. "I do <i>not</i> want to think about what's going on in there. Mind if I use your truck?" She grabs the door handle.<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"So I can get your thing made." She yanks open the door and hauls you out. "I need to do it out of the wind. Go take a walk or something till I'm done."<br/>
<br/>
She sounds very frazzled—not the kind of mood you want to deal with her in—so you press the keys onto her and backpedal out of the parking lot. You watch her for a minute as she struggles with her backpack inside your truck cab, then turn and wander into the park.<br/>
<br/>
Potsdam Park is a narrow strip of greenery that runs along next to the river. There's a gazebo at one end, and in the center a cluster of moldering cement sculptures that look like gigantic bird droppings. You pace up and down in front of your truck, pausing only when a Jeep pulls up. A young couple in their twenties get out with two Labradors, which run off joyfully once they're off their leashes. The couple follow them more slowly toward the river.<br/>
<br/>
It's only a minute or so before a movement catches your attention: Jessica hopping from your truck with a bluish something in one hand, and a small plastic container in the other. She strides over to the minivan and slides the door open. She leans in briefly, then withdraws and slams the door shut. Her expression is much calmer as she joins you on the grass.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, that's all set up," she says. "The mask is copying him, and Eva will finish up with him after that."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes dart about. "Finish up how?"<br/>
<br/>
"With the mask, asshole! What did you think I meant?" Her eyes blaze again. "She has to put the other stuff in it, the stuff we needed your hair for, when it's done copying him. Then she can turn him into a beta for you."<br/>
<br/>
An awkward silence enfolds you. You turn your back to the minivan. Jessica, with crossed arms, stands beside you.<br/>
<br/>
"You owe Mike big time, by the way," she says a minute or so later. Her tone has calmed, but there's still a smoldering fire inside it. "I mean, these masks come with the girls' instincts, so it's not the <i>worst</i> thing in the world if we have to—"<br/>
<br/>
She catches herself. Then— <i>Pow!</i> She almost knocks you over with the punch to your shoulder. <br/>
<br/>
"Ow! The fuck was that for?" you shriek.<br/>
<br/>
"Anything!" she snarls. "Everything!"<br/>
<br/>
She is so exactly like Jessica Garner that you find yourself having to ask. "That is you in there, Carlos, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just making sure."<br/>
<br/>
"Who else would it be?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Who else indeed.</i> For the first time it occurs to you that someone else might slip under one of these masks, and you'd never know it wasn't Carlos or Mike or Philip or Josiah.<br/>
<br/>
Or Keith.<br/>
<br/>
You hurriedly thrust that paranoid thought away. "Well," you drawl as calmly as you can, "you were talking about going off to make another beta, I thought maybe, you know, it wasn't you. That you'd, I guess, left a fake behind to cover for you, or something."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm being Jessica. Am I doing a good impression?"<br/>
<br/>
"Perfect. I wish you weren't <i>this</i> perfect, in fact."<br/>
<br/>
Her nostrils flare. But then she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I'll try to be calmer," she tells you, "as long as you stop trying to be such a dumbass. Like I say, you owe Mike big time—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll make it up to him!"<br/>
<br/>
"—and I guess I'm still just scared because it could'a been <i>me</i> in there if I'd picked scissors instead of paper."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
While waiting, you get a text from your mom, reminding you that you have an early supper. You're replying that you'll be home in time when the van door slides open and Eva Garner clambers out. She blows out a deep breath, and straightens her hair with one hand, and her skirt with the other.<br/>
<br/>
A male figure climbs out after her.<br/>
<br/>
Justin Roth isn't a big kid, but he's got broad shoulders and a chest that imposes itself from under the tie-dyed t-shirt. His jeans are faded and ripped, and his eyes droop in a stoner's scowl under sloppy, cocoa-colored locks. His face and arms are a deep brown.<br/>
<br/>
He does a double-take when he sees you, and his eyes narrow.<br/>
<br/>
Jessica nudges you. "Go on," she says. "Go over and talk to him."<br/>
<br/>
"And say what?" you hiss back.<br/>
<br/>
"Assert your dominance."<br/>
<br/>
"Assert my what?" But Jessica just pushes you forward.<br/>
<br/>
Justin looks up at you from under lowered brows as you approach. "Hey," you squeak at him. He starts to look a lot burlier the closer you get to him. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey," he rumbles back in a resonant baritone. "'Sup?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not much. Um ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Tell him to do something," Jessica tells you.<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Anything! Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"Er ... Gimme your wallet."<br/>
<br/>
There's just a fractional hesitation, and then Justin is digging into a hip pocket. He scowls as he pulls out his wallet and hands it over. "And your keys," you add. He digs into a front pocket. "And, um ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Christ," Jessica mutters. "Tell him to suck you off."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is going on here?" Justin demands. He is starting to flush hard.<br/>
<br/>
"Guys, you're pissing him off," Eva says. "If you want him to be your friend, Will—" She cocks her head and frowns. The moment hangs in suspense before she continues.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you should switch into his mask," she tells you. "If you're going to train him to be your beta, maybe you should do it from the inside."</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321321
author_id: seuzz
title: A Switch in Time
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't like the way Justin Roth is glowering at you. Even if <i>technically</i> this fake version has to obey you, he doesn't look like he's going to be happy about it. What use could he be as a "friend" if he acts so hostile?<br/>
<br/>
But Jessica jumps in before you can speak up.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he can't just switch out with him <i>now,</i>" she tells Eva. To you, she says, "It takes a couple of hours to get the memories after you put on a mask. Actually, it's best to sleep inside it, for like a whole night, right after putting it on. You don't want to go home or hang out with Justin's friends and not know how to be him, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, no." You glance again, uneasily, at Justin. "So, what do I do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, when we switched out, we asked the betas what time they had to be home, and arranged for them to meet us just before then. That way we could switch out, then go straight to bed once we got back home. Of course," she adds, "it doesn't matter if you're just going to leave him as a sidekick."<br/>
<br/>
At the very least you can put the question to Justin. "What time do you have to be home? What's your curfew?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't got one," he grumbles. "And the fuck you wanna know for?" He looks anxiously between you and the girls.<br/>
<br/>
"You can stay out all night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't that what I said?<br/>
<br/>
Jessica jumps in again. "Have him meet you around about time for your curfew," she suggests.<br/>
<br/>
"Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Will, I don't know. You pick."<br/>
<br/>
There's an old elementary school not far from your house. "You know where the Acheson Elementary School is?" you ask the beta. You give it directions when it shrugs mulishly. "Meet me out there around, uh, ten-thirty."<br/>
<br/>
"Wish I knew what the fuck this was all about," it mumbles, and a little fear shows in its eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Better tell him not to talk about any of this stuff with anyone," Jessica says.<br/>
<br/>
"Is there anything else?" you ask, a little peevishly.<br/>
<br/>
She offers some more suggestions for what beta-Justin should and shouldn't do, which you pass along to it. It's looking as harassed as you feel by the time you tell it that it can go. "Go where?" it demands.<br/>
<br/>
"We have to take it back up to the school," Jessica says. She tugs at its elbow; you order it to go with her when it plants its feet and tugs back.<br/>
<br/>
Eva has watched all this with a pinched expression. As Eva and beta-Justin get into the minivan, she gives you a look.<br/>
<br/>
"Just don't get any ideas," she warns, "from what I had to do to keep him occupied until you got here."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Eva's warning keys your nerves up to a high pitch of anxiety and anticipation all evening. <i>Just how far did she go with Justin while they were together? What are you going to "remember" once you've got his memories?<br/>
<br/>
And what's it going to be like to "remember" Mike Hollister (disguised as Eva) going down on you?</i><br/>
<br/>
Before you can find out, you meet up with Maria Vasquez—Philip Fairfax—so she can give you a mask. You're too diplomatic to say anything about the name inside of it—WILLIAM MARTIN PRESCOTT—or to ask the circumstances that behind their making it, and Philip volunteers nothing. He only tells you that the mask is all ready to use, and goes over with you the techniques for putting masks on and for taking them off.<br/>
<br/>
Later that night, as your dad is putting out the lights, you come downstairs in a t-shirt and shorts. "I'm gonna go ride my bike around the neighborhood for a bit," you announce.<br/>
<br/>
"It's almost ten-thirty," he points out.<br/>
<br/>
"I got too much nervous energy to sleep."<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you, then turns the lamp back on. "Don't make it too long."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to wait up for me."<br/>
<br/>
"If you're just going to be right back," he retorts, "it won't be a problem to wait up, will it?" He regards you levelly.<br/>
<br/>
You twist on your feet, then surrender. "Never mind," you mumble, and return upstairs to your room.<br/>
<br/>
For twenty minutes you wait—writhing in frustration—for the lights to go out in the hallway, and then for the sound of your parents' bedroom door closing. You've got your window up, and as soon as you're sure the house is shut down, you swing yourself out and shimmy down the ivy-covered trellis just outside. It's hard going—you've got the mask in one hand as you descend—and you prick yourself in a couple of places. But once on the ground you waste no time in sprinting off to the school.<br/>
<br/>
You're puffing hard and nursing a stitch in your side as you gallop up to the dark sedan parked near the cafeteria. You tap at the window, and gulp cold draughts of night air as the window comes down.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," Justin's voice rumbles from the dark of the car. "I was starting to hope you weren't gonna show."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm here now," you gasp. "Um ... Let's do it in the backseat."<br/>
<br/>
"Christ. So who's going down on who?" he mutters bleakly as he gets out.<br/>
<br/>
"What? Fuck, no! Um—" You feel yourself flushing hotly all over. "We're just going to—! Well, first thing is we're just going to talk!"<br/>
<br/>
Justin grunts. "So what are we gonna talk about?" he asks after you're in the darkened back seat of his car.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, first of all,  you gotta tell me where you live. And who you live with. Like, about your family. And—" You flinch as you remember the near-encounter with your own dad. "And if anyone is going to be up and awake when you get home."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" <br/>
<br/>
But he obliges, and you question him closely until you've got a feel for the location and layout of his house, and the character and habits of the inhabitants, even though the beta is pretty sure that he wouldn't run into anyone if he went home. "They're not even expecting me," he says. "I told 'em I was pro'ly gonna crash with Shep Tsosie."<br/>
<br/>
You question him about a few more things—his classes and his friends—less because you think you need to learn about them (if Carlos is right, you'll have Justin's memories when you wake up tomorrow) than to put off the moment when you have to tell him to take off his clothes. He grumbles in the back of his throat when you do, and he hisses angrily when (still clothed) you straddle him and grope for his face in the dark. You poke him in the eye and cheek with your thumb, and you're too nervous to tell him to be still as he squirms beneath you.<br/>
<br/>
You make half a dozen tries at his face before you feel something heavy and solid coming away when you pull your hand from his face, and you almost drop it when you have a frightening image—<i>It's the bony front of Justin's skull!</i>—pops into your head. With trembling hands you lay it aside and fumble for the other mask. Justin's head is lolling, but he doesn't wake as you push him upright and press the mask onto him. The hard surface of the mask turns into pliant flesh beneath your fingers.<br/>
<br/>
Someone swallows in the dark, and a voice faintly says, "Ngh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's there?" you whisper.<br/>
<br/>
A pained moment passes before a voice whimpers back, "You talking to me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes!"<br/>
<br/>
Another whimper: "Will Prescott." You relax.<br/>
<br/>
Then you remember where you are, and hurl yourself off and to the side. "Gmph!" he says. "The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's me, your boss! The real Will Prescott! You still there?" you ask when he says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"Where the fuck else would I be?" he retorts in a high whinny. "And what do you mean you're the—?" He chokes. "The real Will Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
Too late you realize that you skipped a step: Fairfax told you to put the mask on yourself first, so that it would have all your most recent memories. You didn't, which means that the "Will Prescott" sitting nakedly next you probably doesn't. "What's today's date?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Um ... Beats the fuck outta me. Like, the thirtieth?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Damn, the thing is nearly two weeks out of date.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Just shut up," you tell it when it starts babbling again. "Look, you need to put these things on," you continue as you start yanking off your clothes. "You need to go home, and you need to go up through the bedroom window, not the front door. You need to go home, and you need to be me."<br/>
<br/>
"How do I do that?"<br/>
<br/>
You think a moment. The answer is so obvious it takes forever to come up with it.<br/>
<br/>
"By just being yourself," you explain. "I'll catch up to you at school tomorrow and explain stuff to you then."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," he grumbles. "But are people going to be okay if there's—? Did you say that you're, uh, <i>me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but I won't be looking like me next time you see me. I'll be looking like Justin Roth."<br/>
<br/>
"I am so lost."<br/>
<br/>
"Just go home, go to bed, go to school tomorrow," you snap. "You'll do fine."<br/>
<br/>
With a lot of sighing and groaning, your alter ego dresses and clambers out of the car. You're feeling for Justin's mask when he opens the door again. "Where am I?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"The old elementary school! Now <i>go away!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He scampers off into the dark. But even after he's gone, you finger Justin's mask nervously for a very long time before gingerly putting it to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The windows are smeared with grayish light when you next raise up and look around. <i>The fuck?</i> you think as you dig the heel of your hand into your eye. <i>Where did I pass out this time?</i><br/>
<br/>
Then you look down and notice that you're naked.<br/>
<br/>
Two faces flash before your mind's eye. One is Eva Garner. The other is a skinny kid with rabbity eyes whose name is Will Something-or-Other.<br/>
<br/>
You don't feel very pleased with either of them.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213213211
author_id: seuzz
title: Ambushed by the New You
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Fuck!</i> you think as you rub hard at your eyes and face. <i>The only thing worse than waking up naked in the backseat of your car is waking up naked in the backseat of someone else's car ... and you're suddenly them!</i><br/>
<br/>
You grunt and groan and stretch and try to get used to the idea that you're not Will Prescott anymore ... That you're now Justin Roth.<br/>
<br/>
It might be easier if you didn't feel Justin himself breathing in a panicky way down the back of your neck. If you turned around, you'd almost expect to see him, sitting behind you, staring at you with freaked-out eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Even worse, you feel infected with his thoughts. Your brain feels hot and moist, and it squirms with alien thoughts, like a mud clod crawling with worms. It's like being eaten alive from the inside, and if the alien thoughts eat you all up, will there be anything left?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Stop freaking out, man!</i> you tell yourself as your breath comes in short bursts. Your limbs twitch with the suppressed urge to spring from the car and run away. <i>Nothing's changed! You're still you!<br/>
<br/>
But who the fuck am I?</i> comes the panicked reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking quit it, man," you mumble to yourself, and surprise yourself with the baritone rumble. You clench and flex your fingers, studying them. They are strong and calloused. So are the palms of your hand. Your forearms are also thicker. You bury your face in the crook of your elbow before your eyes can fall to your lap and crotch and cock.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck! Okay!</i> You suck in a deep breath. <i>The fact that I'm freaking out at least tells me that I've got Roth's personality in here with me, too.</i> Your lips twitch into a ghastly grin as you remember some of the drug-fueled waking nightmares he's given himself. <i>This is just like that, man,</i> you tell yourself. <i>You'll just get up, get dressed, get out to do a little stretching, a little limbering up, clear your head, get some oxygen, get woken up, and you'll see everything's normal again.<br/>
<br/>
Or, at least, you'll be able to fake your way through by pretending you </i>feel<i> normal.</i><br/>
<br/>
You search for the discarded clothes: boxer shorts; cold, stiff, dirty Levis; a t-shirt; woolen socks and broken-in hiking boots. Once dressed, you run your fingers through your thick, shaggy mop of hair and clamber from the car.<br/>
<br/>
The sun is above the horizon but not above the tree tops, so the school parking lot is still cloaked in shadows. You crouch and push at the car, stretching your calves, then stand and lean back to stretch your spine. You suck in, hold, and slowly exhale several deep breaths. As you'd anticipated, you soon feel more centered. Exhausted and wrung out, because you've woken early, in a panic, after not much sleep, but more centered. After pacing the parking lot for a few more minutes, letting the cool morning air raise prickly goose bumps all over you, you crawl back into the car.<br/>
<br/>
But what is there to do? There's no point in returning home. Justin's friends will still be in bed. The school will still be shut up. After turning the matter over in your mind for a minute or so, you set the alarm on your new iPhone—<br/>
<br/>
Well, it's new to you; Justin's phone is an old model, battered and stained with a spider-web crack on the screen<br/>
<br/>
—and close your eyes to try catching a cat nap.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake with a start. <i>Fuck, am I late?</i> The alarm is chiming, but it's only seven-thirty when you lift the phone to blink at the time.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, fuck-diddly-duck.</i> You lay back down and blink at the roof of the car. Then a wave of determination rolls over you, and sit up, yank the keys from your worn pockets, and slide them into the ignition. The old sedan roars to life, and you back away from the school.<br/>
<br/>
Your first stop is a 7-11 to get some coffee and a donut. You grimace to yourself as you trudge into the pastry section, then pause to let a small smile tug at your lips. <i>That was totally a Justin Roth reaction,</i> you marvel to yourself—he's been trying to cut out junk food. So you cuss at the glazed donut that you take—<i>goddam motherfucking temptation</i>—and glower at the ones you leave behind.<br/>
<br/>
You're at the coffee station, wincing at the sugar packets as you hover a hand over them, when the door chimes and familiar, raucous voices sound behind you. You glance back. Alec "Brownie" Brown does a double-take at you; his lip curls up into a hard sneer, and he swaggers over.<br/>
<br/>
"You fucking pot-head." He grabs you by the side of the head and punches at your gut. "When are we gonna see you out at the Warehouse again?" <br/>
<br/>
A grin pops into your grimace. "Jesus," you gasp, "I was only out there, like— Uh—" <br/>
<br/>
Fear seizes your heart. <i>I don't remember! What happened to Justin's memories?</i><br/>
<br/>
Brownie sniffs at you. "God damn, you got like <i>weeks</i> of weed on you. Leave some for the rest of us."<br/>
<br/>
Your mind races, but the words seem to come from somewhere else: "So come out to the wilderness with me some time, I'll bring my stash."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit." Brownie rubs his nose. "We just got back from there, me and Laurent, you know." You follow his glance, and see the captain of the wrestling team studying a rack of junk food. "Morning run." Brownie slaps you in the stomach. "You should start running with us, if you're up this early anyway." He glances you up and down with a critical eye. "Bro, you lifting these days?"<br/>
<br/>
"A little." You shrug. "Workin' out with my bow, mostly. You gotta get in some kind of shape for that."<br/>
<br/>
Brownie sneers down at your donut. "Not eating that kind of shit, you're not." He snatches it from you and jabs it in his mouth. "'Oo 'eed a 'iet 'oach," he says around it as he jams a large Styrofoam cup under the coffee spout. <br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck." You snicker and rub your eye.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your heart is still beating rapidly on the drive out to the school—and the coffee isn't helping—but at least you're not panicked again. Justin's memories haven't slipped away, and his instincts carried you through at the 7-11 almost without your noticing. (The bit about the bow came blurting out when you weren't looking, but it was the right answer.) No, only the reason you couldn't tell Brownie when the last time you were at the Warehouse was because ... Well, because it's lost in the fog of Justin's own memories.<br/>
<br/>
Though that fact perturbs you a little too. The fact is, he's been having paranoid flashes, some related to memory lapses like you suffered in front of Brownie and some just free-floating anxiety attacks. <i>You really oughta cut out the fucking drugs, man,</i> he's been telling himself off and on. <i>'Cept what else is there to fucking do?</i><br/>
<br/>
But it is a reason, you decide, to get out of Justin's identity and back into your own—or into the identity of a second beta—as soon as you've got him set up as an ally.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're changing out books before first period when Jessica Garner falls against locker next to you. "I'm looking for Will Prescott," she says, and she holds your eye as she says it.<br/>
<br/>
For a count of one ... two ... three ... four ... you stare back at her. The temptation is strong to play clueless, to deny seeing him or even knowing who he is. But after a hooded glance around, you mutter back, "You found him."<br/>
<br/>
"I figured," she says. "I was <i>hoping.</i>" She leans in and hisses, "Why isn't he wearing that goddamn fucking expensive wardrobe we bought for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your beta!"<br/>
<br/>
"He isn't?" You blink.<br/>
<br/>
"No! I just talked to him at his locker, and he's back to dressing up like he's in kindergarten again."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh. Right. He doesn't know anything about Project Make Prescott Popular.</i> "I'll talk to him. There was, uh, kind of a screw-up last night."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyebrows lift. "Oh? What kind of fuck-up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said <i>screw-up.</i> Don't fucking misquote me. It's nothing. He just needs, uh, debriefing is all."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so when are you gonna do it? I'm telling you, man, I don't appreciate seeing all the fucking hard work that me and Mike and Philip—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll talk to him! Okay? Jesus! I'll talk to him—" You grapple with the fogbank that is Justin's knowledge of his own class schedule. "Third period. I can hang out with him then."<br/>
<br/>
"How about second?"<br/>
<br/>
You mentally run through Justin's schedule again. "No. That's, like, the only class I don't skip. Look, just stop spazzing out, man—"<br/>
<br/>
Jessica wheels, just in time to see Kendra Saunders lowering her iPhone. <br/>
<br/>
"Too cute, Jessica," Kendra simpers. "If you have to dumpster dive, he's definitely the one to dive for."<br/>
<br/>
"Gimme that, you fucking—!" Jessica leaps for her fellow cheerleader with a snarl, but Kendra melts back into the crowded hallway, trailing an echo of derisive laughter behind her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You could go find your beta and tell him directly that you want to see  him third period. But that wouldn't be Justin's style. So you text Eva—and a light leer pulls at your lips as you think back to yesterday, and at how strongly she came on to Justin in order to occupy his attention—to ask her to tell your beta to come looking for you out by the portables third period.<br/>
<br/>
You don't want to be bothered by any of Justin's friends before then, so you attend his English class (first period) and Constitutional Law class (second), where you space out. But third period you trudge out to the old portables in back of the school, to drop with a grunt to the ground. You dig inside your bag for a pack of cigarettes—another bad habit Justin needs to give up—while cussing softly. <i>It'll fucking help me relax,</i> you tell yourself.<br/>
<br/>
But you tense up again when you see Will Prescott approaching you from one direction while Brianna Gould approaches from another.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132132111
author_id: seuzz
title: Flirtation Walk
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Brianna reaches you first. "Hey," she says as she kneels before you and digs into  her purse. "Got a light?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't got one?" You're watching Will, who has slowed up. But you're not so preoccupied that you miss the look Brianna gives you. With a grunt you pull the lighter out of your hip pocket and flick it under the cigarette she's taken out of her bag.<br/>
<br/>
She takes your fist between her hands as she put the cigarette to the flame. She gives you a small smile before releasing you; your cock, already restless, engorges.<br/>
<br/>
Brianna Gould is not the most beautiful girl in school. She is skinny and pale. Her hair, which is a brunette shading toward a very dark crimson, drapes flatly down the side of her head. She goes heavy on the black mascara and the blood-red lipstick, but no so heavy as to give her a goth or punk vibe. She covers her freckles with white powder, which leaves her looking like a vampire who pitched face-first into a sack of flour.<br/>
<br/>
But she gives Justin blow jobs every other month or so, and it's always her idea. But then, she gives lots of guys blow jobs, Justin has heard.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you grunt at Will as he sidles up. "It's Prescott, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He stares down at you with a pale expression, then abruptly drops his pack and falls onto his ass. He has a very worried squint on his face, and he stares at you expectantly.<br/>
<br/>
"What happened to your hat?" Brianna asks him. She takes a deep hit off her cigarette, and blows it out sideways through clenched teeth.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" Will whips off the shapeless white ball cap that you wore everyday before Keith and them gave you a makeover. He studies it critically. "What's wrong with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not that one," she says. "The cool one you've been wearing. The—"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that your jacket?" you interrupt her. You flick a finger at the thin, leopard-skin-patterned coat she's sporting.<br/>
<br/>
"Hm? Oh." She brushes it down. "It's Rebecca's. I'm borrowing it, seeing if it suits me. What do you think?" She squints at you and takes another hit off her cigarette.<br/>
<br/>
"Is it real? You shouldn't wear something like that if it isn't real."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean, real?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that really—? What's that supposed to be? Leopard skin?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I guess so." She brushes her lapel. "You like it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not if it's not real."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong if it's not real?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's fucking insincere. You should only wear something like that if it's real." (<i>What a lot of bullshit,</i> you find yourself thinking as you say it.) "Show some fucking respect for the wildlife. If you're gonna dress up like one of 'em, have the fucking decent respect to kill 'em and skin 'em and wear 'em. Only a fucking twat poseur would wear something like that if it's fake.<br/>
<br/>
Brianna's expression turns pinched. "I'll ask Rebecca if it's real."<br/>
<br/>
You take a hit off your own cigarette. "If it is, she needs to be shot in the face."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking killing a leopard for its coat is not cool."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus, Justin! What's your deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking ethics is my deal." Inwardly, you can't resist smirking, but you keep  your face neutral.<br/>
<br/>
"You were just— What was all that bullshit about—? Oh, fuck you! Here!"<br/>
<br/>
Brianna peels off the jacket and hurls it at your face. You catch it with one hand and smirk around the cigarette at you. "You're so fucking pretentious."<br/>
<br/>
"What about your pants?" You point at her black, stretchy tights. "You kill and skin that wild animal yourself, or are you a twat poseur who—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not taking off my pants for you!" Brianna punches you in the leg. Her fist is tiny and there's no force behind the blow, so you just laugh—a dry, asthmatic sound. "Give that back!" She grabs the jacket. "I don't think you were even serious, what you were saying."<br/>
<br/>
"I was totally serious." You lean forward to pinch at the fabric stretched tight across her thigh. "What is this, fucking polyester?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes! Something like that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't you wear natural fibers or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"I look good in these!" She squirms as you pinch at her again. "You think I look good in them, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"You look great. But, you know—" You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"You know what?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think, Prescott?" You fall sideways onto an elbow and lift a chin at your beta. "Brianna look good to you?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes widen and his chin bobbles, and he swallows. Brianna smiles narrowly at him.<br/>
<br/>
"You can tell her she looks good, man," you assure your beta. "She don't got a problem with that. You look good, babe." You stroke her leg. She glances at you, then turns back to Will. He croaks, "You look good."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't look so bad yourself," she retorts. "You were looking better out at the Warehouse the other night, though."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes swivel toward you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jesus,</i> you think at him. <i>Don't you know how to talk to girls? Don't you even know how to listen to them? Okay, so you don't got any idea what she's talking about, does that mean you have to be so </i>fucking incompetent<i> with her?</i><br/>
<br/>
"What was going on at the Warehouse?" you ask Brianna.<br/>
<br/>
So she gives you the story, of how Will showed up at the Warehouse looking really stylish and sexy, and how he danced with all the girls and took selfies with most of them, and how she and her friends thought he looked really good. Your beta loses more and more color—and then turns greener and greener—as she continues. You just grunt. Then, to distract Brianna from the color show your beta is putting on, you ask her about what she did at the Warehouse.<br/>
<br/>
That sends her into a long and interconnected series of rants that run out the rest of third period.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Brianna leaves soon after the bell has rung, which at least gives you a few minutes alone with your beta—long enough to tell him to come find you at the portables after school for <i>the real talk</i> you need to give him—before sending him on his way. But you remain camped at the portables during lunch and the period after that, bullshitting with some of Justin's acquaintances.<br/>
<br/>
But it's during fifth that you get a most unexpected visit.<br/>
<br/>
You see her coming from a distance away: Cristina Ramon. She's someone Justin knows only vaguely and only by reputation: one of Marcos Rivera's three girlfriends. (That's what puts her on Justin's radar: Marcos Rivera quite openly entertains himself with <i>three</i> girlfriends.) She's a plump girl—fat, even—and in her billowing white blouse and skin-tight black jeans she looks like an ice cream cone tottering around on high-heel boots. But she's a stylish dresser, and she's got a great mane of dark hair that falls in loose curls almost to her elbows. You stare at her openly as you lounge on your elbow and smoke your fifth cigarette of the day, thinking, <i>Yeah, I'd tap that.</i><br/>
<br/>
She says nothing until she's standing directly over you, staring down. "Will?" she says after a moment's hesitation.<br/>
<br/>
You cover your surprise by knocking some of the ash off your cigarette. "Yeah?" you grunt.<br/>
<br/>
"Mike told me this is where you are now." She glances over her shoulder. "But discretion is advisable when we're in public."<br/>
<br/>
You draw in a stream of smoke. "So you're Fairfax now?"<br/>
<br/>
"How'd you guess?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're the only asshole I know who talks like a fucking college professor, and I'm including the teachers when I say that."<br/>
<br/>
Her brow furrows. "I must've fallen out of character while I wasn't looking."<br/>
<br/>
"What happened to Maria?"<br/>
<br/>
"I made a switch last night. This is my second beta."<br/>
<br/>
"Why Cristina?" You look her up and down quite openly. <i>Fat. It would be like fucking a tub of butter. But that could be delicious.</i><br/>
<br/>
"She comes with advantages. She can help you out."<br/>
<br/>
"Who? Me or Justin?"<br/>
<br/>
"You, Will. Cristina runs with a totally different crowd than the cheerleaders. She can talk you up in her crowd, get you into places than our original set of— That Eva and them can't get you."<br/>
<br/>
"Sweet. Except I need to get my own beta sorted out. Fucker's about as lame as a one-legged mule."<br/>
<br/>
Cristina frowns. "Who? Your second beta?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't got a second one yet. I mean beta-me. He was sitting out here with me and Brianna Gould, and she was all flirting with him, and he looked like he was about to shit himself. Fuck." You grind the heel of your hand into your eye. "She was making me cum just to watch, and he was shitting himself. Hey, if you're not doing anything with Marcos this afternoon, how about hanging out with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"We should probably conference, so—"<br/>
<br/>
"I was asking if you wanted to fuck."<br/>
<br/>
Cristina glowers at you, then cocks her head.<br/>
<br/>
"Justin does know how to make a girl feel wanted," she says a little sourly. "You know, if you want to, we could arrange to give you Justin's personality. The personality without the body, so you could act with some of his ... assertiveness."<br/>
<br/>
"That could be cool."<br/>
<br/>
"But you also mentioned Brianna Gould."<br/>
<br/>
"What about her?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's another one who could help you out. She hangs out with a lot of people that the rest of us don't. You should think about making her your second beta."</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321321111
author_id: seuzz
title: Three Can Be Company Too
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The day has brought a lot to think about. To keep from being distracted, you spend the rest of the school day attending classes.<br/>
<br/>
By the time the final bell rings, you think you've got a plan.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yo, Maize."<br/>
<br/>
Shep "Maize" Tsosie was watching the whole time as you sauntered toward him at the portables. But only after you call to him does he acknowledge you with a slight tilt of his chin.<br/>
<br/>
Crouching beside him is Perry Small. These two guys—one a Cherokee baseball player who lives by himself in a small house down by the river; the other a tousle-headed blonde rebelling against his upper-class parents and his AP classes—are probably Justin's two best friends.<br/>
<br/>
Perry squints as he knocks some ash off his cigarette. "Fuck, man, where were you seventh period when I needed you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was in class, okay? Dumbass. Hey." You nod at Maize. "You need your house this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
Shep stares back with mica-colored eyes. Perry's jaw sags, but the cigarette remains stuck to his lower lip. "Oh, fuck!" he snarls.<br/>
<br/>
Maize stirs . "Nah, you can have it."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck! Don't let him fucking push you out of your place, man! If he's gonna—"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up."<br/>
<br/>
"Pssh! When you gonna let <i>me</i> fuck a girl in your bed?" Perry grumbles<br/>
<br/>
"Show me the girl who'd fuck you, then ask me."<br/>
<br/>
You listen to all this with silent patience. Now you ask Maize, "You gonna leave the place unlocked for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"How long you gonna need it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just till like six, maybe seven."<br/>
<br/>
Maize mulls this, then shrugs. "Nah, I'll just leave it unlocked."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be done by seven," you promise.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Perry grumbles. By the expression on Maize's face, he's probably speaking for both of them.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Having secured a private space for the meeting, you intercept your beta and give him directions to Shep's house. Then you head out there yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Justin has been friends with Shep Tsosie for years. It's mostly a relationship built on negatives: Not talking too much, not making trouble, not getting in the way. Mostly they hang out—sometimes just the two of them; usually with Perry as a third; occasionally with others—smoking and drinking. Justin consumes harder substances than that, and Maize helps him through it. For most of high school they hung out in Justin's car at the river or in the Wilderness. Since Maize got a place of his own, though, they spend their time there.<br/>
<br/>
And when Justin makes plans with a girl too shy to do it by the river, he works it with Maize to borrow his place.<br/>
<br/>
So it's with wry humor that you let Will Prescott into the house. You hope that Perry isn't lurking nearby, spying to see who you're supposed to be doing it with. But even if he is, you don't care.<br/>
<br/>
"Is someone finally gonna explain what's going on?" he whines as he surveys Maize's place with a critical eye. It's basically a shoebox—tiny living room with an attached kitchenette on one side and the door to the bedroom on the other. It sits on an open patch of land close to the river.<br/>
<br/>
You answer by giving him a beer and telling him to make himself comfortable on the saggy, smelly sofa that takes up most of the room. Then you retire to Shep's bedroom where you sprawl on the unmade bed and remove Justin's face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You clear on everything?" you ask Will later as he flaps his hat out and resets it on his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" He rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you gonna do now?"<br/>
<br/>
"I 'unno. Go home?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Christ.</i> "Do you think you could be a little less ...?" <i>A little less you,</i> you don't say aloud.<br/>
<br/>
Your beta makes a face. "Why don't you gimme some of this guy's personality," he says, pointing at you. "Like Fairfax was suggesting."<br/>
<br/>
Yes, he's definitely up to speed. He should be, he's now a copy of <i>you</i> as you were just ten minutes ago. After taking off Justin's mask, you pulled the beta's mask off the original Roth long enough to copy yourself into it like you were supposed to do last night.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know if it works like that," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you want from me?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
What you want is for him to be "cooler." More popular. More the kind of guy who can talk to a girl and who will pick up on the cues when she's flirting with you. <br/>
<br/>
More the kind of guy who can get laid without help and who a guy like Justin Roth wouldn't be embarrassed to hang out with.<br/>
<br/>
And when you put it that way, you realize <i>exactly</i> how your beta needs to spend the rest of his afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You were going to call Brianna anyway. That was the second part of your afternoon plans, after you'd updated your beta and sent off. So it's only a tiny change in your plans when you tell him to sit tight while you text a girl.<br/>
<br/>
But it's also <i>the biggest fucking change</i> to your plans you could make.<br/>
<br/>
"Here," you tell him as you come back out of Tsosie's bedroom with a condom. Shep doesn't get laid much, but Justin keeps a pack there. (While telling Maize they're there for his own use, nudge nudge.) "Put that in your hip pocket."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus," he says. His eyes widen as he fingers the packet. "Whaddaya got planned for us?"<br/>
<br/>
"A three-way. And keep your fucking dick out of my face. I'll do the same."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, man!" His eyes bulge. "I don't—! Uh ... You know."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know what you don't, man. And that blow job you got at church camp doesn't count. But leave it to Brianna. She'll take you as far as you need to go."<br/>
<br/>
He swallows, hard. "You gonna leave me alone with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I told you, it's gonna be a three-way. I'll be behind her all the way. Now listen."<br/>
<br/>
He does, with chalky cheeks and saucer-like eyes as you explain the way it's likely to go down. The way <i>Brianna</i> is likely to go down on him while you entertain yourself on her other side. "Is she really gonna— Um?" Will whispers.<br/>
<br/>
"She's cool. She likes you. She's relaxed with me, and I'll relax her with you. And she's not gonna treat you like a charity case, so don't fucking go and act like one."<br/>
<br/>
"Um, sure," he says, and rubs the back of his head. "And how do I do that?"<br/>
<br/>
It occurs to you that you might have confused the thing. It's supposed to obey you, and by telling it how to act in a way that it doesn't know how, you might be in danger of burning out some of its bulbs and relays.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, it's like this." You put your arm around the beta's shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna tell her this is your first time," you say aloud, while internally you marvel at how easily, how naturally, how confidently you're able to lay out the scheme. <i>This is, like, so simple for Roth.</i> "I'm gonna tell her this is your first three-way, that you've been looking for a chance to have one, and that you set one up through me. She'll believe it. The new hat and wardrobe and stuff? She'll totally accept that you're out now looking for new experiences."<br/>
<br/>
"But I don't know what to do," he objects.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't do nothing. That's for her and for me. You're just gonna lay back and enjoy it, it'll be like jerking off only you keep your hands to yourself. I'll be the one doing the work. Well, me and her."<br/>
<br/>
Will nods, but he still looks frightened.<br/>
<br/>
"Now," you continue, "that's what I'm telling you, for your own self-confidence. See, that way she'll think you're more experienced that you actually are, but will put you in a spot where you don't have to do anything except have fun. And, you know, pick up some fucking experience."<br/>
<br/>
"Experience fucking," he chirps.<br/>
<br/>
You fight back a wince. "But I'm gonna give her a slightly different story, okay? Just to make sure that she doesn't put any real demands on you, or says or does anything that'll freak you out."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you gonna tell her?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, then shake your head. "Never mind. It'll make it too complicated if you know everything, and this is a thing where you really don't wanna have too much on your mind."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not too complicated for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know what I'm doing. Now, when she gets here, just play along. Play it cool. And remember—" You punch him in the shoulder with a strong forefinger. "You are into her. You really want to do it with her. You are horny for her, and you like her. But <i>wait</i> for her."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And you do wind up waiting for her. It's well after five—and you've had to text Maize to tell him you'll definitely need the place until seven—before Brianna texts to say she's on her way.<br/>
<br/>
In the meantime you get a text from Jessica: <i>Got new mask here for ur scnd beta want it now or wait to tmrw?</i><br/>
<br/>
The evening might go smoother, you reflect, if Brianna was a beta too. And didn't Fairfax recommend her?</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213213211111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Triangular Seduction
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Carlos wants to get a new mask out to you. <i>can u get it her n 10 min?</i> you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<i>wtf?</i> he replies from Jessica Garner's account.<br/>
<br/>
<i>nvr mind were r u?</i> "I need you to run an errand," you tell your beta.<br/>
<br/>
"What about Brianna?"<br/>
<br/>
"It'll work out, work out better this way. You won't be here when she gets here, which'll gimme time to talk to her first."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just along for the ride," he sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"No you're not, you're driving out to Potsdam Park." That's where Carlos has just texted to say he'll meet you. "Jessica Garner will have some stuff for you. Bring it back here." You slap him on the backside and send him toward the door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's been gone ten minutes when you hear a car outside. You count to ten before opening the door. Brianna is just raising her fist to knock at it. She dimples at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, come on in." You grasp her upraised fist with one hand while cradling her hip with your other as you draw her in and kick the door closed behind. "Nice seeing you again."<br/>
<br/>
"So where's the party?" She looks around the tiny room, and her nose wrinkles.<br/>
<br/>
"Not started yet."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not just gonna be us, is it?" She turns around. She is still within the ambit of your arms, and her tits brush against yours as she looks up into your face. Has she shrunk? She seems shorter than you remember her being.<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Poo. I thought maybe, you and me—" She glances back into the house. "Whose place is this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shep Tsosie. Maize. Baseball pitcher," you explain when she shakes her head. "Cherokee?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, him? Guy with long black hair?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably." There's more than a few guys at school who wear their dark hair long.<br/>
<br/>
"We call him 'Ponyboy'." She turns back into the house and paces the tiny perimeter. "Well, we used to, back in middle school, up until, like, our sophomore year."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, why's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos we wanted to ride him like a pony. He had a ponytail, too. I don't think he wears it in a ponytail anymore."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I don't think so," you agree.<br/>
<br/>
"It's too bad. He looked better with a ponytail." She squints at you from the other side of the sofa. "You should tell him. He could probably get some if he did." She cocks her head. "Where is he?"<br/>
<br/>
"Out. He won't be back till a lot later. Will Prescott's coming out, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah?" She makes a face.<br/>
<br/>
"Something wrong with Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." But her expression remains sour.<br/>
<br/>
This is going to be harder, even for Justin, than you anticipated.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen," you start, "I asked him out here 'cos him and I, we got to talking and—"<br/>
<br/>
You step around the sofa, to take and brush the hair from her face. It is limp and lank, and she has repowered her face and put on another layer of lipstick. The only thing really appetizing about her is that she is obviously trying so hard to make herself look willing and available.<br/>
<br/>
"He's never done a three-way," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
Brianna doesn't react, unless it's to sway slightly on her feet. "Yeah?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lots of people haven't done three-ways yet."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, is it okay with you if that's what we do."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't answer, but she doesn't flinch as you cradle the side of her head.<br/>
<br/>
You put your face into hers and kiss.<br/>
<br/>
That brings her to life.<br/>
<br/>
Kissing her is like sucking on a fucking fruit roll-up. Her lipstick is flavored, and she must have been sucking on a bag of Lifesavers or something on the way over. But her mouth comes alive, and your hand falls to the small of her back and you press her hips into your crotch.<br/>
<br/>
"So where's he gonna be? Your friend?" she asks when you surface again. Her breath whistles through her nose. "Can we put him out in the car?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? I told you, we wanna have a three-way."<br/>
<br/>
"So let's have a three-way, you and me in here and him out in the car."<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. "Don't be a—" But you catch yourself. "He likes you."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't get that impression this morning," she retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what you're pissy about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not being pissy!"<br/>
<br/>
"He wasn't ready for you, that's all. You surprised him. He wasn't expecting you to be there."<br/>
<br/>
"What, was he coming over to suck you off, and I got in the way?"<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, I want us to have some fun here—"<br/>
<br/>
"I do too, Justin." Brianna squirms away and falls back onto Maize's sofa. She crosses her legs under her and digs into her purse for cigarettes and a lighter. "But you text me to come out here and I find out— What? That you're more interested in him?" She puts the flame to the cigarette. <br/>
<br/>
"If I was interested in him I wouldn'a asked you out here."<br/>
<br/>
"It's gay, Justin." She hisses the smoke out through clenched teeth as she jams the lighter and pack back into her bag. "Two guys and a girl is gay. She's only there so they can do it with each other and pretend it isn't gay."<br/>
<br/>
"Who the fuck told you that?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. "Whose idea was this, anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mine."<br/>
<br/>
"Why with this guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you like him?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs. <br/>
<br/>
"The way you were talking about him at school, it sounded like you were into him."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I can be into anybody. Like, in principle. Are <i>you</i> in him or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! Not like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what, then? What's the fucking deal, Justin?"<br/>
<br/>
The question leaves you squirming—Justin wouldn't cross the street to avoid Will Prescott, but he wouldn't cross it to talk to him either. "I'm getting to know him. We hung out this weekend."<br/>
<br/>
"Doing what?" She smirks.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly you are very tired of this conversational badminton. You don't have the patience—and you probably don't even have the skill—to finesse her into a three-way. But you won't need to, not if you turn her into your second beta.<br/>
<br/>
But you're too stubborn to give up.<br/>
<br/>
So you fall atop her, straddling her hips and legs between your knees and pushing her back into the sofa with your chest. She has to arch her neck to glare up at you.<br/>
<br/>
"He's a fucking virgin, okay?" you tell her. "It's not 'cos I'm into a three-way that I'm asking for this. He's trying to come out of his shell and— Well, do you remember how fucking hard it was for you when <i>you</i> decided to—" <br/>
<br/>
You twist the cigarette from her fingers and slip between your own lips. "When <i>you</i> decided you were sick of standing on the fucking playground sidelines while waiting to be picked?"<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes freeze. Then they fall and dart about.<br/>
<br/>
"What, you feel sorry for him or something?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not fucking sorry for anyone. There's no fucking percentage in it. But he comes out and he fucking tells me he's fucking sick of being fucking scared of—" You pull the cigarette from your mouth and tap the ash onto the back of the sofa. "And do I know anyone he could, like, maybe hook up with." You expel the words into her face along with a lungful of smoke.<br/>
<br/>
"So then you show up today," you continue, "and I think maybe you and him could do something together, 'cos you're talking like you like him. But he's a fucking virgin and he freezes up and now you've decided, Fuck him, 'cos— I dunno."<br/>
<br/>
You push yourself back onto your feet, but still you stare down at her with smoke stinging your eyes. <br/>
<br/>
"Maybe virgin guys scare you, Brianna," you snort. "'Cos maybe they remind you of how fucking scary it is to <i>be</i> a virgin."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you want from me?" The whine in her voice surprises you.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want anything. What I was <i>hoping</i> was that we could have some fun. You know, scratch some itches. You could scratch his itch, and I could scratch yours. You were acting all today like you had an itch you wanted scratched."<br/>
<br/>
She sniffles and dabs at her eyes with the back of her hand. "God, you're a bastard."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to do anything with you now."<br/>
<br/>
"Then leave. There's the door."<br/>
<br/>
But she doesn't move from the sofa, and keeps touching her eyes with her fingertips. "This is too weird," she says at last after a long and awkward silence.<br/>
<br/>
"You said you liked him. This afternoon. You and your friends were into him. You would'a liked it, wouldn't you, if he'd come on to you. If he asked you out someplace, to hang out. If he'd—"<br/>
<br/>
You kneel on the sofa next to her, and kiss the side of her neck. She shudders. "If he'd done that. You could help teach him how to. That's what he wants. More than anything else."<br/>
<br/>
You can feel the balance of her desires shifting when you hear Will Prescott's truck grinding to a halt outside.</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213214
author_id: seuzz
title: A Beta Class of Girlfriend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So the first thing we need is some of your hair," Philip says.<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on." You raise a hand. "Lemme get this straight. You use my hair, and that will make me the, uh, boss of Javits?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of his beta," Philip says. "Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"And I could even, uh, turn myself into him, like—" You glance at Cindy. It's <i>still</i> hard to reconcile the slim, beautiful cheerleader with your beetle-browed friend. "Like Keith turned himself into Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right.," Philip says. Cindy titters.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what if I want to be somebody else?"<br/>
<br/>
Philip frowns. "You can only be one person at a time, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"No, what I mean is, what if I want to be someone <i>instead</i> of Seth? Like, you guys are all cheerleaders. What if I wanted to be a cheerleader too? Have a cheerleader as a beta, instead of being Seth?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. "You <i>don't</i> want Seth as a beta?" Philip asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd rather have someone else as a beta. If I'm gonna have one."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if Seth isn't <i>your</i> beta, whose beta would he be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Give him to Keith." To Cindy: "Wouldn't you like to be the boss of Javits?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd love it," Cindy says, but Philip interrupts him.<br/>
<br/>
"Keith already has a beta. Cindy. Even though he's pretending to be Cindy, that's his beta, and each of us can only have one."<br/>
<br/>
"Can Seth be someone else's beta?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, he's got to be yours. I've got Maria, Keith has Cindy, Josiah has Chelsea, Mike and Carlos have Eva and Jessica. There's no one else to take Seth as a beta. Except you."<br/>
<br/>
You're about to give up, but Mike comes to your aid. "How come is that?" he asks Philip. "I know you say it, but how come? Does the book say we can't have more than one?"<br/>
<br/>
"No it doesn't," Carlos says. (And you're thinking <i>The book. It's gotta be the same one that I found at the bookstore.</i>) "The book doesn't say anything about how many betas we can have."<br/>
<br/>
"So how come—?"<br/>
<br/>
"It stands to reason that there's some kind of limit," Philip says, but he hunches his shoulders, as though he's feeling badgered. "Otherwise someone could have used these things to conquer the world already. To have turned <i>everyone</i> into a beta."<br/>
<br/>
There's a thump and a crash from the other side of the wall. Carlos darts from the room. "Well, we better figure out fast what the hell we're gonna do about Seth," Mike says. "Before he gets loose."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, there's still a long argument to be had before anything is decided. Philip insists that it's safer to leave everyone with only a single beta, in case there's some unwritten rule that prevents people from having two or more, but the others are now keen to find out if they could get themselves two betas. You keep quiet.<br/>
<br/>
At the end of it, Philip relents. "We'll try it," he says. "But someone is going to have to volunteer for the experiment." He glances around, holding each of his friend's gaze for a moment. "It could be dangerous. It could be <i>fatal.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do it," Cindy says. You jump at her words. "I've just about run out of ways of torturing Seth. Making him my bitch, well—" She smirks. "That'll be kicking it up a notch."<br/>
<br/>
So Keith strips down to nothingness—and shows absolutely no shame at showing off Cindy's slim legs and bowl-like hips, her globe-like breasts and the tuft of hair between her legs—and lies down on the cold floor. Philip kneels next to her, lays a hand across her brow, mutters under his breath, and pulls. A bluish mask appears in his hand, and where Cindy was—<br/>
<br/>
Gah! You quickly avert your eyes from Keith's bony, spotty, hairy frame.<br/>
<br/>
Philip clips some of Keith's hair off, then replaces Cindy's mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on." Carlos nudges you. "Let's go outside." Reluctantly, you follow him and the fake Eva Garner back outside. It's drizzling again, so you huddle close to the building.<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the deal?" Carlos asks. "You didn't want Seth as a beta. You have someone else in mind?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not specifically," you admit. "I was just thinking—"<br/>
<br/>
"Cheerleader," Eva says. She smirks. "You said you wanted to be a cheerleader." She throws her arms out and twirls. "Just. Like. Us."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "Well, maybe. But—"<br/>
<br/>
"Kendra's available. So's Gloria. You could be one of them. They're a coupla bitches, and it'd be useful to have 'em under control."<br/>
<br/>
"Would it be useful to me?" you reply. "That's what I'm thinking about. This whole, uh, improve-Will-Prescott project. I was thinking I could use someone who could help out there."<br/>
<br/>
"That's smart," Carlos says. "Probably not Kendra or Gloria, then. Probably not anyone on the squad." He squints. "We got you covered there already. You should think about someone with some cachet. Influence."<br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking about a girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
Carlos and Eva both swing around to stare at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you stammer. "Having the right girlfriend, that could help me out a lot."<br/>
<br/>
They exchange a long glance. "What?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"Um," Carlos says. He looks at his feet and tugs at his ear. "Well, maybe first I should ask who you had in mind. Maybe?" He looks up. "Because—"<br/>
<br/>
"Some girls are totally inside your range," Eva says, "and we've built up your range pretty good already. But some of the girls at school," she continues as you feel yourself blushing, "you'd still have to work your way up toward."<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs as you say nothing. "So yeah, a girlfriend could help you out," she says. "But we should still <i>consult</i> on who it could be."<br/>
<br/>
"Like, one or two rungs up the ladder," Carlos says. "Enough to help you up, but not already at the top of the ladder. That's all we mean."<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine," you say, keeping your temper in check. "Maybe that's something you guys could do? Give me some ideas?"<br/>
<br/>
"You could give <i>us</i> some," Carlos replies. "We've been following your hashtags online, you've got some nice possibilities there."<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure you'd agree—most of those girls were not to your taste. But you do give them one name: Kristy Suffolk.<br/>
<br/>
Carlos and Eva nod, then glance over as the door to the unit opens. "Well, look who's on the team," Eva calls out as Philip and a very pinched-looking Seth Javits come out. Cindy is with them, with her arm twined inside Seth's, and she's giggling hard. "Was it fun? Or was it fatal?"<br/>
<br/>
"It seems to have worked," Philip says, though he doesn't look too pleased at having to report the success. "Um, Keith, how about you show them?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy giggles again. "Okay. Seth? Get down on your knees." Seth, his face flaming with anger, drops to a knee. "Both knees. Get on all fours," Cindy orders him, and he complies. "Now bark like a dog. Bark!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ruff ruff. Ruff. Arf,</i> Seth says. His face looks like it's about to melt off the front of his skull.<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't he adorable?" Cindy chortles. "I have my own pet Seth Javits now!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get in trouble at home for missing dinner, but you don't really care. Upstairs you take until midnight to do your homework because you keep pausing to scroll through x2z.com and other social media sites for ideas about girlfriends. You jot down some names, but throw them away. You don't want to shoot too low, but neither do you want to embarrass yourself by shooting too high. All in all, it seems best to wait for the others to give <i>you</i> some ideas.<br/>
<br/>
You wind up skipping most of your classes the next day at school so that you can meet with your fellow conspirators. You meet with Carlos—that is to say, Jessica Garner—second period in the library, where he recommends a girl named Sydney McGlynn to you. "She's new in school, moved here from out of town," he tells you. "Since she doesn't know you, it wouldn't be so strange if she started going out with you." You bite your tongue at the implication that <i>to know you is to not want to have anything to do with you.</i> But you like the girl that shows up in the online albums that Carlos shows you. "Yeah, she does look kind of like Chelsea," he agrees in answer to your observation. "But without the psychosis. She was a cheerleader at her old school. I think they even won some championships or something. That's another reason I think you'd like her."<br/>
<br/>
Third period you skip to talk to Eva Garner—Mike Hollister. He doesn't get a chance to go into details with you, for most of the time he has to entertain Jenny Ashton, who is sharing the table with you. But during one of Jenny's brief absences, he suggests Phoebe Beauchamp. "She's on the soccer team. God, she's gorgeous. See?" Yes, she is—tall and slim with mousy brown hair that cascades to the tips of her boobs. A beautiful face, too, with a mischievous grin. "She's sort-of going out with a sophomore guy," Eva says, "so you'd have to break that up. But that'd make you look good, wouldn't it? If she'd dump her boyfriend for you?" You're not sure that your popularity would really be helped by that kind of assholery, but you do add her to the list.<br/>
<br/>
After that, the meeting with Maria Vasquez (Philip) in seventh period—your own study hall—is anticlimactic. "Gillian Kiefer," she suggests. "She likes stylish guys."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean like Braydon?" Delp is her boyfriend, and that's not your idea of stylish.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," she says, and it sounds like he hasn't caught the sarcasm in your answer. "But you're more stylish than he is. And she is cute, isn't she?" She pauses. "And she's got those giant boobs."<br/>
<br/>
That she does. And it also occurs to you that, even if you don't take Gillian as a girlfriend, she might be a useful spy to put on Braydon, who has his own independent line on the arts and crafts of magic.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132141
author_id: seuzz
title: How to Make a Switch
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a big decision, but you feel like you can't waste time over it. So after the final bell rings, you go with your gut and text Jessica Garner: <i>Kristy Suffolk.</i><br/>
<br/>
"You and Kristy," Jessica muses when she pops up at your locker a few minutes later. "I could see that working. I could see her going for you. Oh, hell." She smirks as she smooths down the front of your shirt. "I <i>know</i> she could go for you. Meet us at the studio? Ten o'clock, say?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, as long as I'm back home by eleven. Dumb curfew," you mutter. "How come?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. "So we can put you and Kristy together, you goofball. Don't worry, we'll come up with a story that'll get her out there. <i>You</i> just have to show up." She flashes you a last, very pert smile from under her eyelashes, and fades back into the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm'a tell you, man," someone says at your shoulder, and you whirl to find Keith Tilley scowling in your face. "They're bad news, those cunts."<br/>
<br/>
"They're great news," you retort. "Oh, and by the way, I know all about <i>you.</i> I know what <i>you</i> are."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow. "Yeah? What am I?"<br/>
<br/>
"A beta."<br/>
<br/>
He snorts. "Fuck you, man."<br/>
<br/>
"He's got your number," another voice honks behind your shoulder. You whirl again, this time to face Caleb. "They put your picture in the dictionary next to 'beta'," he tells Keith.<br/>
<br/>
"Smart," Tilley sneers. "'Cept you got no idea what you're talking about." He wheels away. Unlike Jessica, for whom the crowd seemed to melt back, he has to wedge and fight his way in, and like a drowning man caught in a tumbling tide, he is carried away by it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb wants to hang out with you after school, and though you're antsy to be with the real Keith and the gang, you give in. You follow him to his house, where you sprawl on his bed and talk about the weekend at the Warehouse, the video that you're doing with Carlos and Mike, and ... whatever plans you've got for the week. He seems irritated when you tell you him that you don't have any particular plans, and he frowns deeply when you confess that you might or might not call him up if any plans develop. "Depends on what's going on," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like on, uh, who's going to be there and what we're doing."<br/>
<br/>
He turns very frosty at that, asking what kind of people and activities he would <i>not</i> be welcome at. You try explaining that it depends on the sort of thing that <i>he</i> might or might not be interested in, which only leads him to shrilly ask what sorts of things <i>you</i> might be up for that <i>he</i> might not. You seize with relief on the text from your mom—reminding you that dinner will be early—to escape his company.<br/>
<br/>
In the back of your mind, of course, is the thought that maybe you should talk to the guys about bringing Caleb in on the secret stuff. But you decide to wait on that. You feel like you've already been pushing harder at them than your newbie status really entitles you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get a text from Maria Vasquez's phone, confirming that the ten o'clock meeting is on, but you leave for it early, as soon as you have your homework done—your dad won't look at you twice if you leave at eight, but he might if you leave at nine-thirty. So you kill some time at Starbucks, nursing the cheapest drink you can order, until nine-forty-five, which is when you head out and over to Carlos's studio.<br/>
<br/>
There are a lot of cars parked in front of the climate-controlled unit at Top S(h)elf Storage when you arrive—more than you would have expected. Voices echo loudly down the main corridor as you approach the open door of the bay. One of them is a male voice you don't recognize, and it rises to overwhelm the others. The words are garbled, though, and it takes you a moment to realize that they're Spanish. You round the corner, and with a puzzled and slightly fearful frown look into the studio.<br/>
<br/>
Mike and Carlos are there, perched on the side of the desk, as is Cindy. Behind the desk, with his arm around the shoulders of a blushing Jessica Garner, is a Hispanic guy who you recognize from school and also from the Warehouse, though you're hazy on his name. His face is narrow and handsome, like that of a young Cheyenne warrior, with dark, glittering eyes under coffee-black hair that crests rakishly over his forehead like a breaking wave. He grins at you, and the taut muscles of his face stretch and flex between his high cheekbones and his narrow jawline. "Ay, Prescott! <i>El hombre de la hora!</i>" He raises a slim hand to give you a high-five.<br/>
<br/>
But you're distracted by the girl standing just inside the doorway: Kristy Suffolk. Her eyes light up a little when she sees you, and she smiles.<br/>
<br/>
"So is this everyone?" Carlos says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," the Hispanic kid drawls. "Let's make the party official."<br/>
<br/>
Before you can say anything, Mike and Carlos hop off the desk and cross over to Kristy. You jump back as Mike clasps her in a tight embrace, and Carlos shoves a bluish mask into her face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yeah, we're all of us getting another beta," Marcos Rivera tells you. That's the name of the guy in the guy who had his arm around Jessica, though the guy <i>under</i> his mask answers to the name "Carlos Montoya." "Tilley got another one—you know, Javits—so 'tis only fair the rest of us get another one too. So, this is mine." He stands back on his heels and shows a wide, blinding smile. "Got him this afternoon, thanks to this <i>chica</i> here." He squeezes Jessica and flashes her a toothy smile.<br/>
<br/>
As for why Carlos chose Marcos Rivera, who plays on the school soccer team, as his second: "Blame Keith," he sayswith a shrug. Marcos, he explains, used to give him all kinds of shit back in elementary and middle school—teasing him for being fat and stuff like that—and though Marcos has laid off since entering high school (he now just ignores Carlos), Montoya still holds a grudge, and couldn't resist the temptation to do unto Rivera what Tilley did unto Javits.<br/>
<br/>
"But there's also—" he adds as he lifts Jessica's hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. "The matter of his three girlfriends. Which is maybe going to expand to four?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not if you value Marcos's friendship with Marc," Mike warns him. But Marcos only rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
But it isn't Mike who spoke; it's Beta-Mike. The real Mike, it turns out, is over at Chelsea Cooper's house, getting his own second beta: Kendra Saunders. And of course you'll get a chance to have a second of your own—someone to go with Kristy— but Marcos assures you there'll be no rush for a decision. Philip and Josiah are still thinking over their choices.<br/>
<br/>
These revelations come after you've been woken back up. Immediately after the betas had put a mask onto Kristy and carried her out of the unit, Marcos had handed you a mask. "It's the one we made of you, it's yours now. But you need to put it on, put all your most recent memories into it so that it's all up-to-date, in case you want to, you know, send your beta home as you while you go home as Kristy." He nudged you and leered.<br/>
<br/>
So you sat down on the floor and a thoughtful sucking on your upper lip you had put it on. Darkness overwhelmed you; then you felt yourself being shaken awake. You were groggy, but the blood got stirring again once Marcos and Cindy had you on your feet and were dragging you into the storage bay next door.<br/>
<br/>
That's where you are now, in a makeshift gym, looking down at Kristy, who is lying on a padded workout bench. She isn't very tall—she's half-a-head shorter than you, you deem—even though she is a basketball player. But she looks very fit. She has an hourglass figure with a large bust and pronounced hips. She is presently dressed in loose jeans and a nylon windbreaker, but you know that she has strong legs and a toned arms. Her complexion is light enough that rosy circles blush faintly under cheeks, and her hair (a platinum dirtied by streaks of darker gold) is pulled back in a braid. "I gotta say, I'm fuckin' jealous," Marcos says as you and he gaze down at her. He drapes a friendly arm around your shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy comes up beside you and hands you a mask—the same mask that came off of Kristy. The betas were working on it in a corner of the room, just as they are working another mask (the one that copied you) now. The inner surface of the mask you're holding is now an off-white color, and a name in large, Roman letters is floating over the surface, like a 3D effect: KRISTY ANNE SUFFOLK.<br/>
<br/>
"So what are you going to do?" Cindy asks. "Change faces with her tonight, so we can be girlfriends?" She squeezes your arm. "Or take her out on a date?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll have to switch with her close to bedtime, whether you switch with her tonight or switch with her later on.," Marcos says.<br/>
<br/>
"Why's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"On account of it usually takes a full night's sleep to get all the memories, the personality, all that shit. Otherwise, you have to fake your way through the day without knowing anything about who you're supposed to be."<br/>
<br/>
"Better decide fast," Cindy adds. "She'll be waking up any minute now."</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321411
author_id: seuzz
title: Arguments With Yourself
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You hesitate for just a few moments before deciding: "I'll go ahead and do a switch." <br/>
<br/>
"Awesome," Cindy says. "Looks like you're gonna have a lot of fun." She giggles and nudges you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, alright," Marcos says. "Come on you guys," he calls to the betas. "You done there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just drying it," Beta-Carlos says. He blows into the mask, then hands it to Marcos. It might be your imagination, but you think you see look of sullen resentment on the beta's face.<br/>
<br/>
"Here," Marcos says as he passes it to you. "You'll probably wanna do this next part alone. Don't dawdle," he adds, and with a quick flick of his hand gestures everyone out of the bay. He pulls the rolling metal door down with a shuddering rattle—but not so quickly that he can't flash you a hard grin and a harder wink before it closes on you.<br/>
<br/>
You turn back to Kristy. Carlos and them have left you with a nice little puzzle, you realize now. She's going to wake up soon, so you need to drop that mask of yourself onto her. But she's still in her clothes, and what will happen if your own form hulks out inside of them?<br/>
<br/>
Well, you're not much bigger diameter-wise than her, it seems, and her clothes are draped pretty loosely on her. You could probably go ahead and take the chance—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Damn!</i> Your eye falls on her feet. Your own boat-like pedals would never fit inside them. You cast a quick, fearful look up at Kristy's face, then kneel beside her and grasp a shoe.<br/>
<br/>
You loosen the lace of one, then the lace of the other. Another quick glance up at Kristy. Then, after wedging the mask in your armpit, you gently pull one shoe off her. No movement or response. You drop the shoe, and wince as it knocks the hard cement floor. You grasp the other shoe—<br/>
<br/>
Kristy groans. You freeze.<br/>
<br/>
<i>No time for finesse,</i> you judge, and rip and hurl the other shoe away. You catch the mask as it falls out of your pit, and lunge at Kristy's face. Her brow furrows, and you think you see just a glimmer under eyelids before you drop the mask onto her.<br/>
<br/>
It's like a smooth, flat stone slipping into a smooth pond without sending up a ripple or a bubble.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment the universe doesn't seem sure who it is that's supposed to be lying on the bench. Then reality takes a quick, decisive breath. <br/>
<br/>
Now the person on the bench has a narrow face with a fading summertime tan under a thatch of straw-like hair. He crinkles his brow and his eyes pop open<br/>
<br/>
"Oh Jesus," he gasps as he does a double take. Then: "Ow! What the—?" He sits up with a grimace, and tugs at the jeans he's wearing. "What the fuck, man?"<br/>
<br/>
You finally find your voice. "You know what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! The fuck am I wearing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kristy Suffolk's clothes."<br/>
<br/>
He freezes, then looks up at you with a scowl. "Why'd you put me in Kristy Flippin' Suffolk's clothes?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't put—! Those are the ones she was wearing! What's wrong with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm wearing the wrong set of clothes, that's what's wrong with me!"<br/>
<br/>
You take a quick, sharp breath. "You know you're a beta, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>dur,</i> If I was the real cocksucker I wouldn't be arguing with some asshole who looks like me about <i>how come I'm wearing Kristy Suffolk's clothes!"</i> His eyes are bright, but you think you see real fear in them.<br/>
<br/>
You draw a deep breath. "Do you remember putting on the mask to put, uh, our most recent memories in it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Since it's the last thing I remember, yeah," he retorts. "I put a mask onto my face, then the next thing I know I'm the young Mrs. Doubtfire!" He pulls Kristy's jeans half-way off. "And I've got her panties on too?" he shrieks.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen!" He looks up sharply at your order, and claps his mouth shut. "Kristy was laying there. You remember that?" He nods as you point at the bench. "There wasn't time to take her clothes off her, so I just popped that mask onto her. That's how come— You popped into existence inside her clothes, that's what happened. You're lucky I got her shoes off her."<br/>
<br/>
Your beta stares at you, then pulls out his shirt to peer down inside it. "Got a bra on too, I see." He shoves a hand down the front of his shirt. "Funny to think I got her tits somewhere under my chest hair."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just get out of her things. I'll give you my clothes, and you can get into them." You kick off your shoes.<br/>
<br/>
"Why, what are you going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to put on her mask, <i>dur!</i> Gonna—" You gulp at the wolf-like leer that creeps onto your double's face. "Gonna go home as her."<br/>
<br/>
"Oooh!" your beta chortles. "You're gonna be my <i>girlfriend?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna make you my bitch if you don't shut the fuck up and behave!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get out of your things and he gets out of Kristy's. You sit on the bench, crouching so as to shield your nakedness a little, as he pulls on your clothes: khakis, suspenders, three layers of shirts, boots and hat. "So what are <i>you</i> waiting for?" he asks as he settles and resettles the last.<br/>
<br/>
"A little privacy."<br/>
<br/>
He looks you up and down. "You not gonna let me see Kristy in the raw?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't decided yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you're gonna want it from me," he snickers.<br/>
<br/>
"Just get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you say, boss." He lifts the door, then pauses long enough to roll his tongue around inside his cheek and ask, "But we wanna be convincing together, don't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just get out!"<br/>
<br/>
The door rattles and booms as he slides it shut. You listen. A moment later you hear a muffled voice. Then half a dozen people (it sounds like) start laughing very loudly in the next room.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuckers.</i><br/>
<br/>
But there's nothing more to it but to do it. You look down at the mask and stroke the name.<br/>
<br/>
Then you lay back on the bench, hold the mask over your face, and gently drop it into place.<br/>
<br/>
For the second time that evening, darkness obliterates your senses.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>They told me I wouldn't get the memories right away,</i> you think as you stare at yourself in the mirror. <i>They told me I'd have to sleep on them, and that it wouldn't be morning until I remembered what Kristy remembered, and felt what she felt, and could act like she acted. They told me it takes </i>hours<i> to get fully into the impersonation.</i><br/>
<br/>
You'd woken to a feeling of confusion, which was rapidly dispelled, however, by the cold and the fluorescent lights. You knew exactly where you were. But you had two memories of how you got there. <br/>
<br/>
One memory was of driving out after having sat at Starbucks for ninety minutes, so you could rendezvous with your friends and get yourself a kind of fake girlfriend. <br/>
<br/>
The other memory was of driving out to meet Cindy Vredenburg and Jessica Garner to talk about making some kind of video highlighting girls' sports at WHS. You'd only been there ten minutes or so before Will Prescott walked in, at which point Carlos and Mike jumped at you and shoved something cold into your face.<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of Will Prescott:<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
<i>Friday night —The Warehouse:</i> "He's in there, we'll go find him," Jessica shouts in your ear as she pushes you toward the doors of the main dance hall.<br/>
<br/>
"Who is this guy again?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott! You'll like him!"<br/>
<br/>
You're still frowning with puzzlement and trepidation when a kid comes sauntering up to you. He's in a denim shirt and suspenders, and is wearing a ... very striking hat, like something Indiana Jones would wear. For a moment he only grins at you shyly from under his lowered brows.<br/>
<br/>
Then he puts his hands on your hips. You're too startled to do anything but dance along when that's what he starts doing. It is, after all, what you're supposed to do on a dance floor.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
<i>Saturday afternoon—Your bedroom:</i> You feel your forehead pucker as you study the picture of ... Will Prescott? He looks vaguely familiar, though you're sure the hat must be a new addition to his wardrobe. The photo—sent you by Cindy Vredenburg—is a little blurry, but it shows him leaning against one of the makeshift bars at the Warehouse and staring intently down into a bowl of peanuts. Why he finds them so fascinating, you couldn't guess.<br/>
<br/>
But then, why does Scott Bickelmeir think you'd be interested in a picture of him, shirtless? That's another photo attachment you received this morning, and it's the tenth one you've got from him in the last week.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
<i>Monday morning—School.</i> "I don't know this guy," you protest to Stephanie. "I never heard of him before Friday."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you pay attention?" she retorts. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Who do you prefer, the devil you don't know or the Bickelmeir you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Does this Prescott guy at least know tae-kwon-do? 'Cos if he gets between Scott and me, Scott'll—"<br/>
<br/>
"Leave that to the rest of us. We can explain things to Scott. Ain't that right, Dominique?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you say, boss-lady!" Dominique Hughes calls back without lifting her eyes from her cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>So,</i> you think as you think as you regard yourself gravely in the mirror. <i>Kristy's got her own reasons for going out with me.<br/>
<br/>
Which I guess gives me </i>two<i> reasons to be my own girlfriend.</i></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213214111
author_id: seuzz
title: Sufferin' Suffolk!
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Kristy Suffolk undressed is more or less as you imagined her. Strong legs and calves. A vase-like torso balanced atop a bowl-like pelvis. Hefty, cantaloupe-shaped tits with big, rosy tips. Toned arms.<br/>
<br/>
Not everything about her is perfect or up to her own standards. Her feet, for example, are small without being dainty, with toes like short, fat thumbs. She hates them—you feel her disappointment welling up in your breast as you study them in the mirror—and she never wears sandals or flip-flops or goes barefoot if she can help it. There's a stubborn little bag of fat on her stomach, too, which will not dissolve no matter how much she runs or how many sit-ups she does. Her face—<br/>
<br/>
Well, <i>you</i> like her face, though probably for the same reason she doesn't. In Kristy's opinion it's too round and flat. She has cheekbones, but they're not the planed and angled cheekbones of a model, but heavy cheekbones that in an unflattering light make her face look puffy. Her mouth is small, and when you try smiling you are struck at how little in the way of teeth you show. But you like it because it's a <i>Do Not Fuck With Me</i> face. With your mouth set and your forehead firm, your dark, almond-shaped eyes become hard and emotionless—almost merciless. You feel like you could punch someone out, but with Kristy's cold glare you wouldn't need to.<br/>
<br/>
But from her ankles to her knees, except for that little bag at her stomach ... <i>Whoa!</i><br/>
<br/>
You dress very slowly, studying yourself as you pull on each item, clasp each hook, and twist each button through its buttonhole. When you're done—dressed again in jeans, plaid blouse, and windbreaker—you give yourself one last long, grave lookover, and declare yourself satisfied.<br/>
<br/>
You look exactly like Kristy Suffolk. <br/>
<br/>
And as you bend at the waist to haul up the bay door, you find that you can instinctively move like her, too. She wanted to be a ballerina when she was a little girl, and you counterbalance the pivot on your waist by raising a stiff leg behind you. You feel a faint smile on your face as you stalk into Carlos's studio.<br/>
<br/>
"Ay, there you are," Marcos says with a leer. He's behind the desk again, his arms around Jessica, who is perched in his lap. "Thought maybe you went spelunking and got lost."<br/>
<br/>
"No, just making sure everything was buttoned up right." You sweep your bangs out of an eyebrow and pointedly ignore your beta, who is looking at you like a dog panting after a treat. "Uh, thanks for setting this thing up."<br/>
<br/>
"No problemo. Think you can find your way home from here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." You almost ask about the memories—how come you seem to have them already—but decide it doesn't matter. To Cindy, who has been grinning at you from a corner of the desk, you say, "So I guess we're gonna start hanging out more?" Kristy and Cindy haven't had much to do with each other.<br/>
<br/>
"If you want," Cindy says. "Love to." She spreads her legs and puts her head back, and your own unbridled interest in her body fights with the repulsion that Kristy has for lesbianism. <br/>
<br/>
"Can I get in on this?" your beta exclaims. "With you and Cindy?" He waggles his eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think Cindy would go for it."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, but what about us?" He sidles up. "Isn't that the plan?"<br/>
<br/>
You step back before you can stop yourself. "The plan is to see you tomorrow night," you tell him. "That study session Stephanie set up."<br/>
<br/>
"What study session?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, how come I remember and you don't? We're having a study session tomorrow night. Me and Stephanie and a few others. She told you to show up for it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah. Well, can I at least give you a ride home?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got my car. Kristy's car." You glance around the room, and are disconcerted by the bright stares turned onto you. "I think I should get home. To my new home. I, uh, don't know if Kristy's got a curfew," you lie. "Seems best to play it safe." To your double: "I know <i>you've</i> got a curfew, though."<br/>
<br/>
"So will I see you before tomorrow night?" Will Prescott asks as you back out of the studio.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Unless I skip English." You stride off toward the exit as fast as you can without losing your dignity.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Kristy hasn't got a curfew, so no one looks at you askance once you're home. It's not your family—it's nothing like your own family—but with Kristy's memories and personality you find it easy to kiss everyone goodnight before heading out the back door.<br/>
<br/>
It's a four-woman household, and Kristy is the only one blood-related to more than one other. Kristy's father was killed in Iraq while Heather Suffolk was pregnant with her, and being estranged from her own family has lived with her widowed mother-in-law ever since. And when your father's brother (also a Marine) died stateside in a helicopter accident, Kristy's grandmother took in his widow as well. Fortunately for all, Kristy's grandfather was also in the military, and he had lots of friends who have chipped in to help out the family over the years. People have asked Kristy if her family is related to the "Suffolks" for whom the nearby military base and nature preserve are named. She has told them that she doesn't know, but that she might as well be because of her family connections to so many people at the base.<br/>
<br/>
Some of them, for instance, built a one-bedroom studio apartment in the backyard some years ago, between the carport and the gardening shed, so that Kristy could have a bedroom of her own. That's where you repair to after brushing your teeth and brushing out your hair and saying goodnight to your mother and aunt, who are already in their dressing gowns while watching the TV.<br/>
<br/>
The studio is well insulated but unheated, so you have a hot water bottle with you. You change into Kristy's heavy flannel pajamas and curl up in bed. For a few minutes, as you stare into the dark, you are flooded over with the raw strangeness of the place, and with a sense of homesickness. For a terrible moment you feel yourself an exile, trapped in a strange house, in a strange room, in a strange body, and fear that you'll never see your own bed and family again.<br/>
<br/>
Then, like a picture coming into focus, you realize how silly the fear is. The masks can be taken off—though you'll have to remember to ask Keith and them how to do that—and you can go back to being yourself any time you want. In the meantime ...<br/>
<br/>
You curl up and hug yourself. There is no hardening rod down below, but there is a quickening pulse, and before you even realize what you're doing, you're doing a familiar thing: Putting your fingers down the front of your pajama bottoms to push inside and stroke the tender skin behind and inside the bush.<br/>
<br/>
In this way, you put yourself to sleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're up early the next morning, to shower, and to wash and braid your hair back. The weather continues cool and rainy, so you wait for your regular ride while watching from the living room window. Your mind drifts as you slurp coffee from a travel mug.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry we're late," Kerri Mullen says as you heft yourself and your backpack into the back seat of her boyfriend's Ford Explorer. Before you even get the door closed, Cam punches the gas. "Waiting long?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you lie. It doesn't do to get off on the wrong foot with one of Kristy's friends. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, the good news is that Cam says he'll talk to Scott today."<br/>
<br/>
"What about?" The ensuing silence from the front seat tells you you've put your foot in it somehow. "Did I miss something?"<br/>
<br/>
Cam says, "No," while Kerri says, "Has Scott stopped sending you pornographic selfies?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you asked Cam to get Scott to stop it."<br/>
<br/>
You were sure you had all of Kristy's memories last night, even before you went to bed, but this is news to you. "Oh, right," you say. "Yeah, thanks."<br/>
<br/>
Still the silence in the front seat continues. You hunch up as Kerri stares at the side of her boyfriend's face. Eventually, she says, "You're going to, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll talk to Noah about it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Noah?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! I barely know Scott!" Cam protests. "You actually want me to punch him out—? Threaten to punch him out, if he doesn't stop with the—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Would you punch him out if he was harassing me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're my girlfriend!"<br/>
<br/>
You jump in. "You don't have to, uh, Cam."<br/>
<br/>
Kerri shoots you a quick, dirty look before rounding back on her boyfriend. "You can talk to Noah about it, at least!"<br/>
<br/>
"I said that's what I'd do! Him and Noah are friends, Noah'll straighten him out."<br/>
<br/>
Kerri snorts. When she turns back to you, it's to talk about other things.<br/>
<br/>
You're only half paying attention, though. There was a text from "Marcos" this morning, reminding you that you could pick out a second "beta" for yourself, and that's what you're thinking about.<br/>
<br/>
Scott Bickelmeir has been pestering Kristy, and he would be a formidable rival for Will Prescott's attentions; you don't like thinking of even your beta getting in a fight with a football player. As a beta, though, Scott wouldn't be a rival, and as a football player he could really help "Will Prescott" build up some cred in a part of the social scene where you have absolutely none.<br/>
<br/>
But much the same could be said about Blake O'Brien—oh yeah, that was his name—the guy who gave you a ride from the Warehouse the next morning. Or from any of the football players or security staff at the Warehouse. Basically, from any of Scott's friends.<br/>
<br/>
You could also use Stephanie. She's close to Kristy, and has been sort-of interested in your case recently.<br/>
<br/>
Or you could hold off on making any kind of quick decision.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132141111
author_id: seuzz
title: Things That Look Like People
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Cam drops you and Kerri off next to the gym, then drives off to find a parking space. A small crowd huddles just inside the breezeway that connects the parking lot to the main building, and out of it a hand snatches at you as you pass. You hear your name: "Kristy!"<br/>
<br/>
It's Eva Garner. She gives Kerri a brittle smile, then asks you how your night was.<br/>
<br/>
Is this ... Mike? Yeah, it's Mike who's pretending to be Eva. Except maybe this is Beta-Eva, being friendly in an Eva Garner kind of way. Her small talk about the weather and how she's so sick of the rain doesn't sound like a coded message. But when Cam joins you, and tugs Kerri to follow him inside, Eva touches your wrist. There's a warning light inside her glance, and after Kerri and Cam have moved on she pulls you around a corner. "So how are you settling in?" she asks in a low voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Uh. Mike?"<br/>
<br/>
She nods curtly, and her eyes dart about. "Sorry I couldn't be with you last night," she murmurs. "I was out at Chelsea Cooper's. She and, uh, Maria were getting another beta for me." Her eyes glint. "Kendra Saunders."<br/>
<br/>
"Nice."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Gonna hold off though on, you know, giving her a test drive." She hops lightly on the balls of her feet. "All the other guys say I don't have any self control. I'm trying to show them. But anyway, I'm glad I'm still here." She touches a fingertip to her bosom. "Easier to talk to you here than through Kendra. Do you know Kendra? I mean, does Kristy—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know her," you allow. "I don't hang out with her." Kristy's natural reticence—and your own disinclination to slag Mike's chosen beta—keeps you from uttering a full statement of your feelings: <i>I don't like snotty bitches who slut their way to the top.</i><br/>
<br/>
Eva nods. "That's what I thought. I guess I could've sent the beta— Beta-Eva, I mean," she murmurs through unmoving lips, "to talk to you. But all things, you know, better to—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Better to get to the point,</i> you think with no little irritation, but you keep your face neutral.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, I got a warning I think I should pass on to your friends. Kristy's friends. Dominique, but also Almida and Anita and ... Stephanie? Maybe?"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't talk to those guys yourself?" Eva used to play soccer with Anita, and she is good friends with Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna stay out of it. I picked Eva," she says in a voice that's almost inaudible, "for her body, not for the drama."<br/>
<br/>
"What drama?" You are rapidly running out of patience.<br/>
<br/>
"Marc's on the warpath," she says, and her voices strengthens, and soon she is chattering loudly, the way Eva does. "He is <i>soooo</i> pissed at them. Are you mixed up in it? Is Kristy, I mean?" Before you can yell at her to explain herself, she does. "That prank they pulled on Hannah Friday night?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
<i>Saturday morning.</i> Texts from Stephanie come in while you're getting ready for the day: <i>partyr ockd lst nt shldve gone<br/>
<br/>
Was scott there?<br/>
<br/>
only alittle left erly ud b ok but mist fun w hanna.<br/>
<br/>
so went off ok?<br/>
<br/>
effn dinamit!</i><br/>
<br/>
She called you later that afternoon, both to gossip about the party at Meghan Farris's house, and to tip you off that Will Prescott was probably going to try talking to you on Monday. "Be nice to him, okay?" she said. "He's a little dazed. Was he fun at the Warehouse Friday?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, we barely danced."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, be nice to him. But I wanted to tell you about what went down at Meghan's."<br/>
<br/>
It was a confused tale—Stephanie has never been good at retailing a plot, even the plot to movies she's seen dozens of times before—but the gist is that Dominique showed up in regular dress, then snuck into a bathroom to change into her "Voodoo Queen" costume. With the makeup and the milky white contacts she was almost unrecognizable when she came back out, and Hannah actually shrank from her when Dominique cornered her in the kitchen. No one said anything—"They were all totally freaked!"—as Dominique tossed the graveyard dirt at Hannah while chanting that Creole curse they got out of that book on voodoo, and some of the girls actually screamed when Dominique took out and stabbed the little Hannah voodoo doll with the silver pin.<br/>
<br/>
"She got away without breaking character, either," Stephanie marveled, "and no one tried to stop her. She just went out the back door and out across the neighbors' yard. It was, like, ten minutes before we caught up to her."<br/>
<br/>
Almost as an aside Stephanie revealed that there had been one small mishap: Dominique apparently stabbed herself in the palm when she stabbed the doll, because she found it soaked in blood when she got home.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
It's the funny thing about memories. You have all your memories, and you've got all of Kristy's, and you've got them in the same way. What that means, you suppose, is that her memories work for you the way yours do, meaning that they don't pop up until someone does or says something that reminds you of them. <br/>
<br/>
Like, the only time you ever remember that disastrous year you tried learning to play the piano is when you hear someone playing or singing the Christmas carol "What Child Is This?" because that was the last song you learned to pick out (one-handed) on the keyboard before old Mrs. Llywelyn declared your case hopeless and refused to take any more money from your mother. <br/>
<br/>
Oh, wait. Case in point: That was one of Kristy's memories, not yours.<br/>
<br/>
It's the same way here. You've had no reason to be thinking about the prank that Stephanie and Kristy and their friends have been planning for Hannah, so this is the first time you've even thought about it. (It's the prank that they had to consult with Braydon about and which led to that embarrassing "coffee date" you had with Stephanie.) <br/>
<br/>
But it all floods back with Eva's words, and you only have to take a short breath before asking, "So what's Marc's deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think his deal is?" she retorts. "They freaked out his girlfriend! She woke him up in the middle of the night last night—"<br/>
<br/>
"They spent the night together?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Eww! She called him. She had some bed-quaking nightmare or something. Marc told Jessica and me about it this morning, said that she was crying, she was so freaked out by it, and that he was going to kill Dominique and them—"<br/>
<br/>
"What's some stupid nightmare got to do with them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Marc didn't give us specifics, but he said that Hannah dreamed that Dominique was coming to get her, but it wasn't Dominique, it was a monster that <i>looked</i> like Dominique, and—"<br/>
<br/>
She breaks off, and her eyes get very wide. A little grin pops onto her face.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," she says, returning to a murmur. "Wouldn't that be an awesome hoax to pull off? Staging, like, an alien possession invasion thing of the school? Like <i>Invasion of the Body Snatchers,</i> or <i>The Faculty?</i> Make it seem like kids are being possessed and turning into monsters who look like them but don't act like them? We could totally do it with these masks—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's something for you guys and Philip to talk about." It sounds like a really half-assed idea, and you're sure Fairfax would kill it quick. "But this nightmare thing," you resume in a louder voice, "that just sounds like Hannah trying to get her boyfriend to pay attention to her."<br/>
<br/>
Eva shrugs. "Maybe. Personally, I don't know anyone—me or Jessica or two guys I could name but won't—who give a shit what happens to Hannah. <i>Bossy bitch,</i>" she mutters in an aside. "The point though is that Marc is looking for someone's ass to kick, and maybe your friends should be watching out for it." She cocks her head. "You're— I mean, <i>Kristy,"</i> she mouths, "wasn't in on it, was she?"<br/>
<br/>
No, Kristy wasn't at Meghan's to help pull off the prank, but only because she heard a rumor that Scott Bickelmeir was going to be there, so she decided to skip. But thinking of Scott reminds you to mention it to Eva: "No she wasn't. But by the way, I decided on a second beta. Scott Bickelmeir."<br/>
<br/>
Eva looks thoughtful for a moment, then tells you that that shouldn't be a problem, and that they probably won't even need your direct help. "Unless you want to switch places with him right after we grab him," she adds. You tell her you're not.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The day passes uneventfully. Kristy doesn't take any challenging classes. The most challenging is the basketball class—two solid periods of running and shooting—but it's the one she enjoys the most, and you have a lot of fun in it too. (That includes the time in the locker room, when you get to surreptitiously ogle the other girls as they change clothes.) In English, Beta-Mike taps your shoulder and tells you that Scott is now scheduled to visit the studio after class, but that you don't have to come.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So why is it that you find yourself striding into Carlos's studio at a little before five o'clock? And what do you find there?<br/>
<br/>
You're there because Maria Vasquez called and asked you to come out. And inside the studio you find Scott, sitting in a chair and trussed up with bungee cords, the way Seth was. He is unconscious.<br/>
<br/>
"We thought you should see this," says Maria, who is on hand with the pale-faced Garner girls. She puts her hand to Scott's brow.<br/>
<br/>
You jump back. Scott has vanished, and sitting there is ... It takes you a moment to recognize Sean Mitchell, another of the football players. You look at Maria.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know what it means either," she says.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321411111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Boy Who Victimized Himself
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What's going on?" you ask, and point to the figure in the chair. "Is Sean, uh, part of the club now?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," Maria replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Toldja he didn't know about this," Eva says. She catches your eye and mouths a <i>Sorry</i> at you.<br/>
<br/>
A chill runs down your spine. "So how did Sean get a mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess we need to ask Sean. We thought we'd ask you first, just in case this was something you knew about."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't. Did you ask <i>Keith</i> if <i>he</i> knows about it?" You feel your scalp starting to crawl, and your face starting to flush at the mistrust in Maria's—Fairfax's—attitude.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Just before we called you." Her answer makes you feel a little better. "So I guess that makes Sean the only person we can ask. We've been keeping him, uh, sedated, but I guess now we can—" She pushes his head up, and rubs his face—softly at first, then more vigorously as Sean's eyes remain stubbornly shut.<br/>
<br/>
"How did you find out he was wearing a mask?" you ask the others.<br/>
<br/>
"We tried putting one on him," Jessica says. "The same way we got them onto everyone else." By her smirk, you're guessing that Carlos has abandoned Marcos and put himself back under her mask. "But it started acting funny—hissing and stuff. After trying it a couple of times we got the idea of seeing if there was already a mask or something on him. So we tried taking one <i>off</i> him instead and, well, there you go."<br/>
<br/>
There's a groan from the chair, and Sean's eyes flutter open. He blinks, then rears back. He struggles briefly against his bonds, and pales. "What?" he gasps. "What the—?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what we'd like to ask you, Sean," Maria says, emphasizing the name.<br/>
<br/>
"Sean?" He blinks at his name.<br/>
<br/>
"That's you, isn't it? Sean Mitchell?" She arches her eyebrows and purses her lips.<br/>
<br/>
His brow furrows, but fear shows in his eyes. "I don't know what you—" He slides his tongue over his lower lip. "Sean is— I mean, Mitchell is—" His eyes go distant. He swallows.<br/>
<br/>
Looks are exchanged around. "Maybe Scott was a beta?" Jessica says. "So maybe Sean doesn't know he was, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
Maria picks up the mask and strokes its inner surface. "But there's no beta layer. He should know exactly who he was. Who he was pretending to be." She shows the mask to Sean, who rears back from it. "How long have you been pretending to be Scott Bickelmeir?"<br/>
<br/>
You've never seen anyone shit his pants, and you're not sure that Sean is shitting his pants now. But if you had to imagine someone shitting his pants he would have to do like Sean does now: every muscle in his face, shoulders, torso, and legs seems to twinge and sag all at the same time. His eyes bulge and his mouth works.<br/>
<br/>
"A mirror," he croaks. "You got a mirror?"<br/>
<br/>
Again, looks are exchanged. Maria takes out her cell phone, swipes her finger across the screen, and holds it up to show Sean.<br/>
<br/>
He yelps.<br/>
<br/>
Then—and this you definitely weren't expecting—a grin of relief spreads over his face, and his eyes start to stream.<br/>
<br/>
"You got it off me!" he says. "Oh God, thank you Jesus, you got the fucking thing off me!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's an afternoon of surprises and revelations. To start with, the person tied up in the chair—Philip leaves him tied up, and for some reason he doesn't even ask to be released—isn't Sean Mitchell. It's Sean's twin brother, Taylor.<br/>
<br/>
His <i>dead</i> twin brother.<br/>
<br/>
"It was back in August," he tells your company. "Start of August. I was working at this company, manual labor and stuff, and this box comes in to our shipping center. It was busted open in transit, and we were repackaging it to return to the sender 'cos the guy it was addressed to said he didn't want it. Anyway, we—" He licks his lips. "That's me and Scott and Sawyer Harrison. Well, we start looking over the stuff as we're repacking it. It's some old papers and things, an old school notebook, and also these masks."<br/>
<br/>
He glances over at the desk, at the mask he was wearing. He flinches from it.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like I said, it was like no one wanted it, so we— Well, we took some of the things out. The masks, some of the papers. And we got together one day up at Eastman—that's where we went to school—and started looking at it all. Scott put one of the masks to his face and— Well, you're not going to believe it."<br/>
<br/>
"The mask went into face, and he passed out for ten or fifteen minutes," Maria says, "and then the mask came out but when it did it had Scott's name printed on it. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
Taylor's eyes bulge. "How did you—?" He looks around. "Well, if you know that much, I guess you can guess some of the rest. I did it with another mask, and then we played around with some of the other stuff we found in the box. Eventually I tried putting on Scott's mask, and it turned me into him, and he put on mine and it turned him into me." His brow darkens. "Sawyer put one on, but it just knocked him out and he never woke up."<br/>
<br/>
He trails off, and pain fills his eyes. No one says anything, not even to prod him into resuming. When he does, his voice is very clipped. "Long story short, Sawyer wound up in the hospital. Scott and I couldn't find any way to turn ourselves back. So he went home as me and I went home as him. Only he had a car wreck." The tendons in his neck work, and bruises appear around his eyes. His voice turns gruff and fuzzy. "I was stuck as Scott, and I didn't know how to tell anyone who I was or what happened. They'd think I was crazy."<br/>
<br/>
"So you've been pretending to be Scott ever since?" Maria asks after a long silence.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I moved over to Westside 'cos my brother did. I wanted to stay close to him." His expression twists up. "Sean didn't want anything to do with me, though. He thought I was Scott, thought I had something to do with Taylor's— With <i>my</i> death. Like he blames me for it."<br/>
<br/>
For a moment he stares at the floor, all the muscles in his face working. Then he looks up.<br/>
<br/>
"But you got the mask off me. You know how those things work." He looks from Maria's face to yours and to the Garners'. "You're gonna let me go, right? Let me go find Sean, let me tell I'm—"<br/>
<br/>
He freezes as no one answers, and his face falls. "Oh, Jesus," he whispers as he turns very pale.<br/>
<br/>
Maria holds his eye, then stirs. "Be right back," she says. "Stay comfortable." She doesn't need to gesture to get you and the others to follow her out and down the corridor. "Well," she says when you've reached the foyer building entrance. "What do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"His story checks out," Jessica says. She holds up her cell phone. "I was Googling while he was telling it. About the accident and everything. That guy Sawyer Harrison. All of it."<br/>
<br/>
"That's good, but I wasn't so much doubting his story as wondering what we should do about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" Eva exclaims. "We let him go find his brother! Or we bring Sean out here! You're not seriously suggesting we don't!"<br/>
<br/>
You can tell by Jessica's expression that Carlos agrees with Mike, and when Maria looks at you, you nod too.<br/>
<br/>
She sighs. "It certainly complicates things, but I agree. And I would like to know more about this box they found, and where it came from."<br/>
<br/>
You'd like to know how Philip and his friends have learned to do all this stuff with masks. You have your suspicions, but there doesn't seem any point in confirming them.<br/>
<br/>
At least, not yet.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have to return home for dinner, so you leave it to the others to handle Taylor and his situation. After eating, you retire to your studio bedroom to study and to catch up on the texts that have been coming in. The first is from Cindy Vredenburg, asking if you can talk. <i>don't want to leave incriminating texts on your phone,</i> she explains, and adds a winking emoji.<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty fucking weird what turned up at the complex, right?" she gasps when she picks up in answer to your call. You ask her what happened after you left. She tells you that Fairfax and the others called Sean out to the complex and oversaw the fraternal reunion. They also explained to the brothers about themselves, and about you and Keith. "So there's eight of us in the club now," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Want to bring Caleb in?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't even joke about that." Then she adds, "Not that I'm really opposed to telling Johansson about it all. But we've got to draw the line somewhere, right? And I get the impression Philip's pretty annoyed at the way more and more people are piling in."<br/>
<br/>
There's not much more to the conversation though, except for Cindy's remark that Taylor (who is presumed dead) is going to have to continue playing the part of Scott Bickelmeir. She also has to share that, since turning him into a beta, Seth has been doing a bang-up job of "painting my front porch, if you get my drift, and I'm sure you do." You silently gag.<br/>
<br/>
When you hang up you find two new text messages. You groan at the first: a snippy note from Stephanie, demanding to know where you are as you're late for the "study session" that she set up for you and Will. In the afternoon's excitement, you had totally forgotten.<br/>
<br/>
The second also leaves you leery. It's from Scott Bickelemeir. But instead of a shirtless photo, it's a plaintive request: <i>can we meet and talk, you and me and my brother?</i></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213214111112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Meeting with the Mitchells
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You text Stephanie to say that something's come up and you won't be able to make it to the study session; in a volley of replies, she cusses you out for flaking on the night's plan.<br/>
<br/>
No matter. You've already got things set up for you and "Will Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The Milagro Beanfield Warehouse is a pretentious hipster coffee shop a few blocks from the university. The best you can say for it is that it isn't weird like The Crystal Cave or The Flying Saucer. But its got a clientele that favors piercings, lumberjack beards, and distressed vintage clothes that cost more than some of the best things in your either your or Kristy's closets. <br/>
<br/>
Scott and Sean are seated in a back booth, drumming their fingers on the scarred wooden table. "Hey," you say as you settle into the booth opposite them. To Scott: "I almost didn't recognize you with a shirt on."<br/>
<br/>
He only looks puzzled. But Sean's eyes narrow.<br/>
<br/>
You instantly regret your opening gibe. But you're nervous, and you're nervous (you now realize) because you're scared of them. Normally you wouldn't be, for both Sean and Scott have decent reputations, even if the latter runs with a rough crowd.<br/>
<br/>
But this isn't school, and they've got reasons to get excited, and they are both of them very big. Okay, they're not "Thor" big, but they are brawny and hard-bodied, and as they stare at you now with their hard eyes and hard faces under their frayed and dirty ball caps—caps like you used to wear, but you'd bet their ball caps smell of sweat and testosterone, while yours only ever smelled of shampoo—they are like a two-man tribunal, and you can't help blushing at what they're probably thinking of you. You can't help feeling that the taunt <i>You look like a girl</i> can't be far from their lips.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want to talk about?" you ask when no one says anything.<br/>
<br/>
"We wanna talk about stuff that's going on," Sean says. "The stuff that went on this afternoon." He lifts his chin. "You. Us."<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't Philip and them explain it all to you? Aren't you up to speed?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean's jaw tightens. But Scott leans forward. "If you think we're up to speed, why'd you come to meet us? Will?" he says softly. "Isn't that your name?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's me. But I came out here because it sounded like <i>you</i> had something you wanted to say to <i>me."</i><br/>
<br/>
Sean surprises you by declaring out of nowhere, "I'm not gonna apologize." Then he adds, "So I was flirting with you over the cell phone, so what?"<br/>
<br/>
It takes a moment for the scene to clarify, but when it does you jump back in the booth.<br/>
<br/>
That isn't Sean. It's Taylor. Your eyes shift between the brothers. <i>Which means that it's </i>Sean<i> who is wearing Scott's mask.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Scott says. He smiles faintly. "Fooled you. My brother hasn't seen our mom in a couple of months, so he's gonna play me for a couple of days, maybe a week or so. I'm taking over as Scott."<br/>
<br/>
"Do Philip and them know?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's it matter?" asks the guy who looks like Sean. He leans back with a tilted chin. "Do they have to know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess it doesn't matter too much."<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna tell 'em?"<br/>
<br/>
"I, uh—" You blink a couple of times, then force yourself to stop. "Like I said, what's it matter?"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't, really," Scott says. "For what it's worth, we <i>did</i> tell them. They even made up a new mask for us, so Taylor could wear my face home."<br/>
<br/>
That's strange. "Aren't you guys twins? Could your mother tell the difference?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not always." Sean—you can't help thinking of him as "Sean," just as you can't help thinking of the other one as "Scott"—pushes up his sleeve, disclosing a tattoo that winds about his bicep. "But Sean got a tat' awhile back, so I needed a copy of that."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, business," Scott says, and he lays his folded hand on the table. "Mainly we wanted to meet up because we heard you're also new to this club. Like with us, it's an accident you got in. Is that true?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, more or less. What did Fairfax and them tell you about me?"<br/>
<br/>
"How about you tell us about yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
You make a face, then shrug and relate your history, starting with how a bunch of cheerleaders tried giving you a makeover, and ending in the accidental discovery that those cheerleaders were actually guys using magical masks to do some weird sociology experiment.<br/>
<br/>
"So you joined up with them," Sean says. "Got a mask of your own." <i>You look like a girl,</i> says the glint in his eye. "How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos it looked like they were having fun. Also, I guess—" You pause long enough to squeeze the quaver out of your voice. "I wanted to help with that experiment."<br/>
<br/>
"You really wanna be popular, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
You're about to retort something sharp, but Scott nudges his brother first. "Sure," you reply. "I wouldn't mind being popular."<br/>
<br/>
"But Fairfax told us Kristy's supposed to be your girlfriend. Your new girlfriend." You don't like the words, but at least Sean's tone has lost its sneer.<br/>
<br/>
"Having a girlfriend can help a guy become popular."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pregnant pause. Then Scott nudges Sean again. "The barista's giving us some dirty looks," he says. "We should order something."<br/>
<br/>
Sean looks at Scott, then with a sigh clambers out of the booth and trudges up to the front. When he's out of earshot, Scott leans across the table. "You have my permission to kick his ass," he says in a very audible whisper. He holds your eye, then adds, "If he brings you a latte instead of something black, I mean." He smiles.<br/>
<br/>
You smile back faintly in reply, and wonder if this is supposed to be some kind of "good cop bad cop" routine.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," Scott continues, "my brother's acting like an asshole only 'cos he's embarrassed. That wasn't him sending you those pictures. It was Scott. Scott's personality. After pretending to be Scott all that time, not having any way of getting back to be himself—" He shrugs with his hands. "He told me he really did start thinking of himself as Scott." He cocks his head. "Something for all of us to keep in mind, maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"I think I can keep me and Kristy from getting mixed up like that," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. But I'm just telling you he's pissy 'cos he's embarrassed. Anyway, what we want to talk about is—" <br/>
<br/>
He breaks off, and hesitates, and there's a hard silence between you until Sean returns with a tray and three mugs. Even after he's seated, it's a moment before Scott resumes.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, the point is, we got mixed up in all this on accident. Same as you, it sounds like. We're none of us part of the, uh, central crowd. The guys who started it, the guys making all the decisions. Are we?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm friends with Keith."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's great. Really. Could you be friends with us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." You look between them, and your face feels hot. "Is that all? Just ... be friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, be friends with us the same way you're friends with the other guys. Any reason you couldn't be?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Any reason you couldn't be better friends with us than with the other guys? Except for your friend Keith, obviously."<br/>
<br/>
Your throat constricts. "Do you want me to be?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean answers. "We just don't want them doing to us that they did to Seth Javits."<br/>
<br/>
"Javits deserved it," Scott snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say he didn't," Sean retorts. "But they didn't do it to him 'cos he deserved it. They did it to him 'cos he was inconvenient." He turns to you. "Like maybe <i>we're</i> inconvenient."<br/>
<br/>
"Like everyone at this table, maybe, is inconvenient," Scott says, addressing the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
His words remind you of what Keith said earlier: <i>Philips seems annoyed at how many people have come piling in.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Look, I don't think Philip and them would do that to you," you stammer. "Like, they could'a done it to you at the complex this afternoon. When they got that mask off you."<br/>
<br/>
There's a lengthy pause as Scott and Sean hold each others' eyes. "Well, that's good enough for me," Scott says at last. Sean shrugs. Then, under his brother's stare, he too nods.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's more talk as you all slowly consume your coffees. Scott and Sean ask you again about this "makeover" you got, and about what Keith and Philip and the others are getting up to. You find yourself sharing rather more than you probably intended. You tell them about the "voodoo prank" that Kristy and her friends plotted against Hannah, for instance, and how it has pissed Marc Garner off. The story seems to amuse them.<br/>
<br/>
So you don't feel like you're friends with Sean and Taylor Mitchell when the evening ends, but things do feel friendlier than when you came in. After Taylor—in Sean's mask and in his truck—drives off, Sean trots over to your car.<br/>
<br/>
"Can I get you to think about a couple of things?" he says. "First, can you remember that, you know, this stuff with the masks is a game and an experiment for you and the other guys. But for me and Taylor, it's our lives. One of us is going to have to be Scott," he explains, pointing to his face, "and one of us can never be Taylor again. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Second—" He hesitates again, then resumes in a rush. "I'm saying this as Sean Mitchell, not Scott Bickelemeir. But if you're going to be Kristy, would you think about being my girlfriend? We wouldn't <i>do</i> anything. I only ask 'cos it seems like it'd be easier for us to stay in touch that way.<br/>
<br/>
"I could even be, uh, Will Prescott, if that's the way you want to handle it," he adds when you're too shocked to reply.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132141111122
author_id: seuzz
title: Surprises for Kristy Suffolk
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The weather continues cold and rainy, so that you're standing under an umbrella Thursday morning when Cam and Kerri pick you up. Kerri waits until you're settled in the back seat before turning around to drop a conversational bomb. "Cam hasn't talked to Scott yet," she says.<br/>
<br/>
Cam says nothing, but the tendons in the back of his neck tense.<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay," you tell her. "I talked to Scott last night." Kerri stares at you with a faint, mirthless smile frozen onto her lips. "I told him all about how there was this other guy I'm starting to date. He was very sweet about it."<br/>
<br/>
For a long moment there's no sound but the scrape of the windshield wipers, and the hiss and splash of water under the wheels. Then Cam says, "Toldja." Kerri gives him a dirty look.<br/>
<br/>
"That's great," she says as she settles back in her seat. "But what happens when Scott doesn't see you going around with anyone?"<br/>
<br/>
"There is someone," you tell her. "I'm pretty sure he's about to ask me out, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to say yes."<br/>
<br/>
Kerri whirls about. "Really? No! Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott?" Your heart thumps in your chest. <i>What is Kerri going to say to that?</i><br/>
<br/>
She doesn't say anything, but frowns thoughtfully. "You'll have to help me," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"He was trending on x2z last weekend? He made kind of a splash at the Warehouse? Kind of a rakish kid," you continue as Kerri just blinks and frowns. "Was wearing this leather hat like Indiana Jones wears?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! Him? Really?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck you.</i> "What's wrong with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. I dunno! I don't know him. I guess it's just not—"<br/>
<br/>
"Not what?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs. "Not the look of the kind of guy I picture you with. But I'm gonna have to check him out now!" She turns back around.<br/>
<br/>
You can't help scratching at the sore. "So what kind of guy did you picture me with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing! No kind! Could be anyone!"<br/>
<br/>
"Luke," Cam says. <br/>
<br/>
Silence falls, like an anvil crashing through the roof of the car.<br/>
<br/>
"Luke?" you echo.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's who Kerri—"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up!" Kerri yelps. She whirls toward you. "Forget him, he doesn't know what he's talking about!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Luke</i> would be Luke Richardson, who is on the school baseball team with Cam. He's a good-looking redhead—better looking than Fairfax—with a tangle of sloppy locks and an easy grin. Kerri must have fantasies of you and Luke and her and Cam going on double dates. <br/>
<br/>
You lean forward. "You were thinking me and Luke—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't thinking anything! And Cam doesn't know what he's talking about! He's totally garbaging up something I said once upon a time!"<br/>
<br/>
You just shrug. "Well, anyway, I think Will's going to ask me out, and I think I'm going to give him a chance. He seems interesting."<br/>
<br/>
At least, you hope he'll be interesting when it's Sean Mitchell playing your part.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That hope—that Sean could make you "interesting"—is the reason you took him up on the offer to play your boyfriend by switching into your part. He was right that it would be easier for you and him and Taylor (as the club newbies) to keep in touch if there was some kind of fake but public relationship between you, but you liked better an unmentioned dividend: That Sean (who is a football player and wrestler) probably knows better than you how to be popular. Or, at least, how not to freak out at having lots and lots of new people trying to crowd into his life, the way you felt freaked on Monday when you had to hang out with all those strange girls.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you explain none of this to Kerri, and she has to make do with scrolling across the internet to find out about Will. She asks you how you got to know him, and you explain that you share a class with him and that you heard through some mutual friends that he had kind of a crush on you. "We've run into each other a couple of times since. I think I was being set up. Oh hell, I know I was. But that was okay. It's all been really casual and no pressure." She gives you a look whose meaning is easy to read: <i>Yeah, then, like I'm so sure something's going to develop between you.</i><br/>
<br/>
At school you part with her and Cam and go looking in the gym for Stephanie in the P.E. classroom. You find her sitting on a desk just inside the classroom door, her head bent over her cell phone. You can tell she sees you out of the corner of her eye, but she ignores you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At least you've learned one thing from your time impersonating Kristy Suffolk: Stephanie Wyatt didn't treat Will Prescott any different than she treats other people. If anything, she was maybe nicer to you than to most.<br/>
<br/>
Kristy, for instance, <i>hated</i> Stephanie when they first met. <i>Hated</i> her. Hated her as an arrogant, sneering <i>cunt</i>. A bully, practically.<br/>
<br/>
That was their freshman year, when they shared a P.E. class. Stephanie was bossy, pushy, and totally ignored Kristy when she wasn't yelling at her for messing up. <br/>
<br/>
At least she didn't <i>do things</i> to Kristy, the way the Molester did to you and Javits did to Keith. But even that hurt Kristy. Stephanie's dripping contempt—<i>You're not even worth bullying</i>—made Kristy hate her all the more.<br/>
<br/>
Because it wasn't like Stephanie didn't have friends. There were girls she'd happily pass the ball to, and grin and chatter at to while coldly ignoring Kristy. Girls she'd sit with while texting and chewing gum as they all waited for Coach Tesla to get her drunk ass onto the court for class. (It was Stephanie who told everyone—though how she knew it she didn't say—that Coach Tesla was usually drunk during class.) But with Kristy she was just elbows to the groin and nasty words to the face. Soon, in Kristy's mind, Stephanie took on the aspect of a mountain troll.<br/>
<br/>
Then one day, in the class after P.E., Bonny Trask (who was something like Stephanie's best friend) came in and slumped in the next desk over. She was sniffling, and her eyes were puffy. All at once, she buried her face in her hands and started bawling. When Kristy asked what was wrong she ran from the room. Kristy followed her, and spent the period in the girls' bathroom with her.<br/>
<br/>
It was on account of Stephanie, Bonny said. Stephanie could be such a <i>bitch!</i> So what that Bonny had missed a couple of shots in P.E. That wasn't any reason for Stephanie to just <i>lay into</i> her and <i>ream her out,</i> and to tell her how <i>bad</i> she was at basketball. God, sometimes she <i>hated</i> Stephanie! <i>Hated her!</i> She could be so <i>mean!</i><br/>
<br/>
Weirdly, instead of making Kristy hate Stephanie even more, it made her look at Stephanie in a new light. Because if Stephanie treated her own friends this way, then maybe ... <br/>
<br/>
Well, maybe she didn't have a special problem with Kristy. Maybe it was just the way Stephanie was.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe she couldn't help treating everyone like dirty gum stuck to the bottom of her sneakers.<br/>
<br/>
Still, Kristy took a gloating pleasure in cornering Stephanie two periods later, and in telling that she'd <i>really hurt Bonny's feelings.</i> To Kristy's surprise, Stephanie didn't sneer back something about "minding her own business." Instead, her eyes popped, and she said <i>Shit</i> and ran off. Kristy stared off dumbly after her and wondered about the look on Stephanie's face. Was she hurt? Or (as it looked to Kristy) was Stephanie actually <i>frightened?</i><br/>
<br/>
The next day, before P.E., Stephanie called Kristy over with a jerk of her chin. She was very clipped as she thanked Kristy—"Hey, yeah, just wanted to say thanks for telling me about Bonny yesterday, we got things sorted out"—and she didn't seem any different in class.<br/>
<br/>
But from that point on Kristy didn't hate Stephanie. She just watched her, and got used to her, and eventually decided that Stephanie wasn't a mountain troll. She was just a <i>mountain</i>—icy, stony, unyielding, but there wasn't anything <i>personal</i> about it. You just had to not mind being bruised or broken when she moved in your direction.<br/>
<br/>
It took another year for her and Stephanie to become friends, and for Kristy to discover that under that diamond-like crust Stephanie has deep reserves of molten loyalty—that she could <i>kill</i> anyone who seriously crossed any of her friends—and that if she was never kind or thoughtful, exactly, she would at least pull down mountain ranges and grind opposition into gravel if she ever got it into her head to help someone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't think she'd go that far to help Will Prescott, and she gives you a slit-eyed side glare when you sit down next to her and apologize for missing the study session last night. She is somewhat mollified—though still kind of pissy—when you tell her it was because had to straighten out a guy who was hassling you for a date. "Was Will disappointed?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. I think he was trying to flirt with me," she retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Ooh! So maybe <i>you</i> should go out with him." She gives you a dirty look. "I'll go talk to him today. Maybe I'll ask <i>him</i> out."<br/>
<br/>
"No, let him do the asking. It'll be good for him."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll still go talk to him. Encourage him."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"We'll have to make up a new mask," Eva says when you speak to her at lunch time about your plan with the Mitchells. "Sean won't be able to wear the one of you that's out there now. But it's doable. We'll get started this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"Can I come out and help? Or watch?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs. "It's not very interesting."<br/>
<br/>
You pass the message on to Scott (that is, Sean). He grunts, and says that he and his brother will be going out to the hospital to have a look at Sawyer Harrison—their friend who fell into a coma at the end of summer when he tried putting on a mask.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321411111222
author_id: seuzz
title: Sleeper, Awake!
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're not very interested in this Sawyer Harrison kid—he went to Eastman, and he was friends with Taylor Mitchell, not with anyone you knew. But (and maybe this is Kristy's psychology warning you to be wary of "cliques" developing inside this club of impostors) it seems to you best that you keep close to the Mitchells so they don't go wandering off and doing things that are too independent of Philip and the others.<br/>
<br/>
But it turns out Fairfax knows their plans, and even encouraged them.<br/>
<br/>
"He's working on some masks for us," Scott tells you after school, when you're wedged in Sean's truck between the two brothers, "or else he'd be going with us."<br/>
<br/>
"Why's he interested in your friend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, why?" echoes Taylor, who is driving. At least you assume it's still Taylor in a mask of Sean, and that Sean is still disguised as Scott.<br/>
<br/>
"Because he's worried about Sawyer the same way we are?" Scott retorts. Taylor snorts. "Well, maybe not," Scott continues. "But Sawyer was playing with a mask along with us—" He catches himself. "Along with you and Scott."<br/>
<br/>
"So you think that mask is still in him?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It makes sense. Fairfax showed us how to get masks off'a people. We're gonna see if it works on Sawyer."<br/>
<br/>
It's a long drive across town, so they also have time to explain how Fairfax is setting it up so that the two brothers can switch faces around when they want.<br/>
<br/>
"Taylor doesn't want to be Scott anymore," Scott explains, "so they're gonna turn Scott into a beta for me. That way I can switch between being him and, uh, you, no problem." He squints down at you. "You sure you're gonna be okay with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was my idea," you remind him. You don't want to admit that you hope he'll be a better "you" than you were. "What if you want to be yourself again?" you ask. "Where does your brother go?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're making up a new face for him. They said they can do that—someone totally new. They're gonna put a copy of Taylor's brain in it, and they're gonna make this <i>thing</i> they can put the mask on. So it's going to be just like Taylor, except with a different face, and he can switch between being it and being me. Yeah, your friend Philip's really excited about it. He's going to try getting it a job and stuff, so it'll be like a real person, only it'll be a fake."<br/>
<br/>
Scott's explanation confuses you, but you figure you can ask Fairfax about it later, if you really care to know what's going on.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Neither you nor Kristy have been inside a hospital that you can remember, and you find you don't much like it. The corridors are wide and white and flatly lit by fluorescent panels, and you're thoroughly creeped out when you have to share the elevator with two brawny male nurses and a gurney carrying a shriveled little gray-skinned man. Sawyer's hospital room is similarly antiseptic, despite the gaily-colored curtains that ring the bed, and the massive spray of flowers that lays on the table at its foot.<br/>
<br/>
But the nurses' station wouldn't let your trio into the room without family being present, so it's nearly five o'clock before you can get in there, and Sawyer's sister—a girl named Belinda—is with you. She hugs Scott tightly in the waiting lounge, and murmurs something about missing him. "Yeah," he sighs. "I figured it'd been too long since I was out here to see you and him."<br/>
<br/>
It's an awkward scene up in the room. There are only two chairs. Taylor insists on you taking one of them while he leans in a corner; Scott takes the other one, and pulls it up close to Sawyer's bed. Belinda—after sniffling at Taylor about how sorry she is about the accident his brother was in—drapes herself across Scott's lap and hangs her arms around his neck. You and "Sean" exchange a look behind her back. <br/>
<br/>
So you're not able to check out Sawyer right away, but that's okay. Belinda is full of news. Apparently her parents are close to filing a lawsuit against the company that Sawyer and his friends worked at. "You might get a call from a lawyer," she warns Scott. "I'm sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you told me you were out there at Eastman when it all happened." She glances at her comatose brother, then frowns at Scott. "Why don't you tell us what happened out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I did." Scott's voice is very tight, and you see Taylor stiffen. "We were just sitting around, and he keeled over."<br/>
<br/>
"Were you guys, like, exposed to chemicals and stuff at your work?"<br/>
<br/>
"Some. Maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos that's what my parents might sue them over, saying that Sawyer must've been exposed to something toxic." Scott only shrugs at her words. "You might have to testify."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll just tell 'em what happened."<br/>
<br/>
Belinda frowns and sighs. "Well, it sounds like it's gonna be a mess. 'Cos if my parents sue Salopek, <i>Salopek's</i> gonna put you on the stand. They're gonna say that you guys were up to something out at the school, and that <i>that's</i> how come—" She breaks off, and sniffles again.<br/>
<br/>
The name "Salopek," meanwhile, has given you a start. "Who's Salopek?" you ask, as though you don't know.<br/>
<br/>
For only the second time that day, Belinda looks at you. "Where Sawyer and Scott worked. And Taylor," she adds, glancing at "Sean."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, but a cold spot—like congealing ice—forms in your chest. Salopek is where your dad works.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's more talk after that, but most of it is mere chatter. (Belinda doesn't like the looks of the lawyer that her parents have been talking to; he looks like a hungry weasel, she says.) After fifteen minutes or so, long after you have lost patience, Scott pushes her to her feet and suggests they take a little walk downstairs to the break room to get a snack or some coffee. Belinda looks at you and Taylor and says she's not sure if she can leave "you guys" behind, but Scott takes her hand, and she relents with a smile that leaves you feeling nauseated. Scott, as he exits the room, gives his brother a meaningful look.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll give 'em to the count of thirty," Taylor says. He flexes his fingers and murmurs under his breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Do we still want to check?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if there's gonna be a lawsuit—"<br/>
<br/>
"Best reason to try fixing whatever's wrong with him," Taylor retorts. "Who wants a lawsuit?"<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure it will work that way, but you shut your mouth. After a lingering pause, Taylor edges up to Sawyer's bed, and leans over his friend.<br/>
<br/>
Sawyer Harrison is a scrawny, undernourished-looking thing, probably on account of being stuck in a hospital bed with only an IV drip to keep him going. He doesn't look sick, though, only asleep. Taylor frowns into his face, then lays a hand across his brow. He gives you a quick, fearful look, licks his lips, then looks back down at Sawyer and starts talking under his breath. <i>I've got to get someone to teach me how to do that,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
Taylor pulls at Sawyer's forehead. And, somehow, he pulls a mask out of his friend's face.<br/>
<br/>
The room seems to sway, and your stomach drops. Taylor pales, and looks at you with wide eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Do we try waking him up?" you croak.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just see if he wakes up naturally." He hastily shoves the mask into the backpack he brought up with him, and the two of you sit back down, to stare expectantly at the patient.<br/>
<br/>
He's still asleep when Belinda and Scott return, but they've only been back a minute when there's a faint groan from the bed, and Sawyer's eyes flutter open. Belinda is chattering at Scott, though, so it's up to you to get her attention by standing up and waving your hands at her. She gives you a dirty look, but turns toward the bed when you point and gape at it. <br/>
<br/>
"Belinda?" Sawyer groans.<br/>
<br/>
His sister's jaw drops.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a lot of quiet chaos after that. Doctors and nurses bustle in, and you and Scott and Taylor are hustled out. Belinda joins you all downstairs twenty minutes later, but only long enough to thank you for coming out. "They don't know what happened," she gasps through the Kleenex she holds to her streaming nose and eyes. "Mom and Dad are on the way out. They'll wanna see you." She bursts out crying. "They think maybe it was your voice, Scott! Or maybe yours, Taylor! That he heard you and because you're his friends and you were with him—" She sobs. "Maybe he heard you and decided it was time to wake up!"<br/>
<br/>
So you have to wait for the Harrisons to show up. And during that time your trio has to confront a new problem: How much to tell Sawyer about the masks.<br/>
<br/>
"I never even liked him," Taylor grumbles. "He was Scott's friend. I always thought he was a little shit. Fairfax and them won't like him either." But his brother thinks you'll have no choice but to bring him into the "club."<br/>
<br/>
They argue this way for a few minutes, neither one of them sounding convinced of their own reasons or of each other's. They end up looking at you. "What am I? The tiebreaker?" you protest.<br/>
<br/>
They look at each other, and shrug.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213214111112221
author_id: seuzz
title: Second Thoughts of a Secondary Character
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Your friend Sawyer knows about the masks, doesn't he?" you ask Taylor. "I mean, when you and Scott, uh, switched faces, was that before or after he, you know, had that accident?"<br/>
<br/>
"Before." Taylor makes a face. "That's why he wanted to try out one of the masks."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I think we have to tell him what's going on. At least, you guys need to tell Philip and the other guys about Sawyer, and what he knows." <br/>
<br/>
Taylor looks at Sean, who raises his eyebrows. He sighs, but acquiesces.<br/>
<br/>
Later, after Taylor has dropped you and Sean off at the school to collect your cars, you ask Sean if his brother is going to be alright.<br/>
<br/>
"He's still getting used to things," Sean tells you. "We got together last night and—" He bites the inside of his cheek. "We had a heart to heart. Being home again, with our mom, it kind of got to him."<br/>
<br/>
"So he's happy?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean shoots you a piercing look. "Do you have a brother?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Oh, you mean, does Will Prescott have a brother?"<br/>
<br/>
His lips twitch. "You thought I was asking about Kristy?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's easiest to think that way." You tug at your braid, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Since Sean is done up as Scott, you ask him, "Isn't it that way for you?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "Actually, I keep having to remind myself who I'm supposed to be. What my name is, who it is people see when they look at me. But do you have a brother?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he's in middle school. Kind of a brat. Um, if you're still going to be me, you'll find out all about him. Why are you asking?"<br/>
<br/>
"No reason. Okay, no, I'm asking 'cos you asked if Taylor was happy." He takes a deep breath. <br/>
<br/>
"So, try to imagine that you had to pretend to be your own brother. That your parents thought you were dead, so you couldn't be yourself anymore, and the only way you could see your mom— And your dad?" He looks inquiringly at you, and you nod. "Well, imagine the only way you could be with them was by being him. Your brother. How weird would that be for you?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Pretty weird,</i> you admit to yourself. Sean says, "It's like that for Taylor."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs again, then squints off at the horizon. "You're just lucky you have friends who know how these things work, so you don't fuck up like Taylor and Scott and Sawyer did. By the way, how <i>do</i> they know how these things work?" You admit you don't know. "Well, it's pretty lucky," he concludes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sean has unwittingly given you something to think about, and on your way home you wonder (with a feeling like dread) what it would be like to <i>never</i> be yourself again. <i>What if I was stuck as Kristy Suffolk for the rest of my life?</i> You comfort yourself coldly that there would be worse people to be stuck as, but the thought makes the Suffolk household, with its one old woman and its two middle-aged women, begin to feel alien again. You set the table and eat silently as your "mother" and "aunt" argue hotly about the latest grocery bill.<br/>
<br/>
A chance for escape comes while you're helping to wash up. Mike had texted you to say that a new mask was ready for Sean when he was ready to become "Will Prescott," but you'd put him off, knowing that Sean and Taylor would have some news for the rest of the group. But now you get a text from Philip. Though it's phrased as a question—<i>Can u come out to complex tonite for meeting?</i>—it sounds like an order. When you reply that you can, he asks you to get your beta to come along too.<br/>
<br/>
You're passing the open door to Carlos's makeshift gym when you hear your names shouted from within: "Kristy! Will! Hey you!" It's Jessica, and she looks tired and a little vexed. "We got everything ready for you. Your beta coming?"<br/>
<br/>
"He should be. I thought he'd be here by now."<br/>
<br/>
She nods. "Well, if Sean's going to turn himself into you, you have to get out of Kristy's things 'cos we're gonna have to put another mask on you."<br/>
<br/>
"Are we doing that now?" <br/>
<br/>
Jessica looks surprised. "Aren't we?"<br/>
<br/>
Before you can answer, she goes to the doorway and looks out. There are voices—male voices—coming from the other storage bay, but you can't make out the words. Jessica listens a moment, then turns back to you.<br/>
<br/>
"You know," she says, and her voice drops. "If Sean's going to be switching between your mask and Scott's, it's going to make it tricky for you. I mean, for when you want to go back to being yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" That dread you felt earlier—the dread of never being yourself again—rushes back.<br/>
<br/>
"There won't be a problem as far as keeping up with memories and stuff. Whenever you go back to being yourself, you'll be able to get all the stuff that Sean has been doing as you. We're going to set it up that way. But the, uh, physical stuff might be a problem."<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like, suppose he has to have a filling done while he's being you? If he goes to the dentist as you, and he gets a filling, your beta will have the filling, but you won't."<br/>
<br/>
"The mask can't copy the filling into me?"<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head. "It doesn't work that way. The masks copy people, people don't copy the masks. Or what if, like, Sean has an accident and breaks his arm? Which would be <i>your</i> arm, since he'd be playing you?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Or he has an accident as me and gets killed?</i> you can't help thinking.<br/>
<br/>
"We started talking about this yesterday, the rest of us," she continues. "Eva has a dental checkup coming up. If it shows a problem, Mike is going to have to give up being Eva, at least for a little while."<br/>
<br/>
"That'll bum him out," you say, for a lack of anything else.<br/>
<br/>
"Right. We're telling this to everyone, so you can be on the alert."<br/>
<br/>
You thank him for it, and ask if Sean and Taylor have told him and the others about the trip to the hospital, and the results of it.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," she sighs. "It's why I'm in here, getting ready to make some more masks. In case this friend of theirs wants one." You apologize for complicating his and his friends' lives. "It's not your fault," she says, which is nice of her, considering that you're the one who suggested making a beta of Scott Bickelmeir, thus uncovering Taylor Mitchell. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Except for that talk with Carlos, the trip to the complex turns out to have been a waste. Sean demurs on switching out of Scott's mask and into yours, for he figures he should be wearing Scott's face when Sawyer comes out to meet with Philip—a meeting that will probably happen tomorrow. You find yourself being very mindful on the drive home, lest you have the kind of accident that so screwed up Taylor Mitchell's life.<br/>
<br/>
You get a phone call from Maria after you're home. She thanks you for going out to the hospital with the Mitchells, which is nice, though you bridle a little when she uses the phrase <i>keeping an eye on them,</i> as though you were acting as a spy. You bridle a little more when she asks if you'd keep in mind possible aliases for Sawyer, should he decide that he wants one. "Someone who Kristy could hang out with," he says. And though he doesn't say <i>keep an eye on him</i> again, it's the plain subtext.<br/>
<br/>
So when Scott Bickelmeir texts to ask if he can pick you up for school in the morning, you almost decline—no ride, no opportunity to "keep an eye on him" for Philip. But he probably has something to say, so give him your address and text Kerri to say that you'll be getting a ride from someone else. She asks you who, but you ignore her.<br/>
<br/>
"I think we should wait till tomorrow before switching things around," Sean says the  next morning as you pull away from your house. "You know, me and Will Prescott. Who, you know, I'm not sure I've met yet. Anyway," he continues when you say nothing, "we can set things up so we have a date then. You and, uh, Will, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not tonight? It's Friday."<br/>
<br/>
"We're all meeting with Fairfax and them, with Sawyer. It'll probably be pretty long, pretty intense. You're not in a hurry, are you, for me to get into character as you?"<br/>
<br/>
You tap the window with your knuckle.<br/>
<br/>
Then it all comes flooding out: The dread that has been gradually building since your talk with him yesterday about Taylor, and your fear that something will happen while you're playing Kristy that will make it impossible to go back to being yourself. "I might want to switch back to being myself."<br/>
<br/>
You're coming up on the school, and he says nothing as he maneuvers into the parking lot. But after switching off the motor he asks, "What happens to Kristy after you switch back to being yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
"She goes back to normal."<br/>
<br/>
"So you won't have her for a girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
Somehow, you hadn't thought of that.<br/>
<br/>
"Also, she's going to be kind of lost when she's back to being herself. According to Philip and them, she's not going to remember anything that happened while you were being her."<br/>
<br/>
You hadn't thought of that either.<br/>
<br/>
"If you're going to switch back," Sean says, "seems to me today's the time to do it. Now. Before things get even more complicated for her and you."</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132141111122212
author_id: seuzz
title: Matryoshka Syndrome
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sean's suggestion gnaws at you all day, and for the first time since donning Kristy's disguise you feel yourself actually <i>wearing</i> a disguise. Kristy's body does not feel like it is your own, but is a sheer body stocking you have pulled down over yourself. Her skin, when you brush and surreptitiously pinch it, is as alive and natural as before—is as alive and natural as your own—and the change in your relative height to the other students keeps you conscious that you are not wearing a mask but have actually altered your body to align with the size and contours of Kristy Suffolk's. But that very acute consciousness—that sense that you are <i>someone else</i> looking out at the world from behind a face not your own and manipulating a body-machine that is not your own—distances you from your impersonation. More than once you almost call out to Caleb, and in the locker room before basketball practice you disrobe with a reluctance to touch yourself—of course you'd be nervous about touching a naked girl—and when Stephanie calls sharply to you, you jump guiltily, half-expecting her to denounce you as an imposter before raking you across your face with her nails.<br/>
<br/>
But you're not the only person in a mood. Dominique Hughes is snappish and biting both before classes start and during practice. At a lull during the latter you sidle up to Stephanie, who like you is blown from jogging around the circumference of the gym. "What's Dominique's deal?" you ask. (You ask it less from curiosity than a nagging sense that Kristy would ask it and that you'd better keep up the pretense of being her.)<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me," she mutters back. Her expression is hard.<br/>
<br/>
"Bad conscience," murmurs Almida Jones, the team captain, who is standing with you both.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," Stephanie growls back.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't talk to me that way."<br/>
<br/>
"Psht!" Stephanie jogs off to join Haley Flanagan and Julia Paez, who are resting with their hands on their knees on the other side of the court.<br/>
<br/>
"Bad conscience about what?" you ask Almida.<br/>
<br/>
"That thing with Hannah Westrick. The prank."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh? Did Marc yell at her or something?"<br/>
<br/>
Almida looks startled. "Marc? What's it got to do with Marc?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's mad at—"<br/>
<br/>
And now you realize that you forgot to pass Eva's warning on to Stephanie and the other girls who were behind the prank. Briefly, you relate Eva's story of how Marc was promising to "kill" the girls who'd shaken up his girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't seen or heard from Marc," Almida says. "I dunno about Dominique. She hasn't said anything. All I know is—"<br/>
<br/>
Coach Tesla blows her whistle, and gestures all the girls to join her under the basket. But under her breath, Almida concludes her story: "She met me in the parking lot this morning and dumped all that voodoo shit on me. She said she didn't ever want to look at it again."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It sounds like the sort of thing Dominique might do if Marc had cornered her and yelled at her really hard. Everyone likes Marc Garner, and you'd bet jealousy of Hannah Westrick was the prime reason that she and the other girls (including Kristy) banded together against Hannah. Most of the soccer team is against her too, though she does have some friends there. Some of those friends are Kristy's friends too, and if you were in more of a mood to <i>be</i> Kristy you might hang out with them after school, to talk to them about Hannah and Dominique and Marc. But instead you have this itch to peel off Kristy's skin and restore your own; and besides, you get a text from Maria Vasquez asking you to come out to the storage complex for a meeting after school.<br/>
<br/>
Schedules have to be juggled before the meeting time can be set, and it's not until after dinnertime that you arrive at the storage complex. The studio is already crowded when you arrive, with people who look like Philip Fairfax, Eva and Jessica Garner, Cindy Vredenburg, and Carlos Montoya. Sean and Taylor Mitchell are there too, and Sean has taken off Scott's mask so you get your first direct look at the twins together in their natural state. They really are identical, and if it weren't for their contrasting reactions when you come in—one smiles warmly, while the other coolly chucks his chin at you and turns away—you doubt you could tell them apart. Both are meaty individuals with broad shoulders and muscular torsos; close-set eyes and flat noses; blonde whiskers that run along their jaws to meet in fuzzy patches on their chins; and close-shorn hair that curls up just over their ears. They look enough alike, that you glance for the tattoo that Sean has and which Taylor doesn't. Having spotted it, you drop down on the floor with your hip against his. After a moment's hesitation, he puts one arm behind you and leans on it so that it just touches your back.<br/>
<br/>
He and Taylor brought a guest: Sawyer Harrison, who looks much healthier now that he's dressed and on his feet. And yet, somehow, a healthy Sawyer Harrison repulses you more than the sick one did. In a hospital bed, his gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes could be chalked up to illness and undernourishment. But awake and alert, sitting here with you and the others, there is something unwholesome about his glittering smirk.<br/>
<br/>
He's tall and lanky, with bony arms that he's wrapped around his knees; his skin is pink, but it's less the pinkness of health than the pinkness of a sun-scorched pallor. His hair looked dark blonde in the hospital; under the storeroom lights it now has a reddish-gold gleam. His head is long and box-like, with a wide, broad forehead between his side-brushed bangs and the squashed up face beneath. "Squashed up," once the phrase has occurred to you, seems a very good description. It's like his face was sculpted in soft clay, but the sculptor in a fit of pique seizes the brow and chin and forced them together. His eyes are narrow and close set, and they glint from under peaked brows. His lips twitch up at the corners into a smirk. He reminds you (you realize) of a certain kind of kid you knew in elementary and middle school. The kind who waggled their peters at each other in the changing rooms after P.E., and scrawled dirty words on the sides of the library shelves. Boys whose idea of flirting was to snap bras and mutter "Fuck me" audibly under their breaths while the teacher was busy at the blackboard.<br/>
<br/>
 Philip introduces you to Sawyer, both by your real name and by Kristy's. He smirks and chucks his chin at you and says, "Hey." His eyes, you note, keep darting between you and Cindy and the Garners. Keith has noticed it too, it seems, and after a minute he moves to sit beside you so that you're half-blocking Sawyer's line of sight. There's some small talk, and Sawyer asks if you're on the cheerleader squad too. You explain that <i>Kristy</i> is on the basketball squad, and Sawyer says that's cool and asks if it's fun. You shrug, and he asks if Kristy's got any friends that it would be "cool to be." You temporize by telling him <i>Lots,</i> which you regret when his eyes widen and a slow grin spreads across his face.<br/>
<br/>
After an awkward quarter-hour of this, Philip's phone chimes and he grimaces as he checks the text. "Josiah's not coming," he announces. "Neither of him." He hesitates. "Well, I guess we don't need him."<br/>
<br/>
He's standing near the entrance to the unit, and he repositions himself so he can address the room and look out down the corridor at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
"So, Sawyer's here because he's friends with Taylor and Sean," he starts, "and so he knows about the masks. He's got some other stuff he could tell us, but it's all pretty technical and I've already talked to him about it. Right now I just want to introduce him around, get everyone comfortable with him, and talk about where— <i>who,</i>" he corrects himself, "he can be."<br/>
<br/>
He looks around. No one says anything. Everyone looks at everyone else. Cindy finally stretches out a leg and says, "He can be anyone at the school, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why does he have to be someone else anyway?" someone asks, and it's a shock when you realize that you're the one who asked it. You start to stammer as everyone swings around to gape at you.<br/>
<br/>
"What I mean is," you try to explain, "all these impersonations they're to— Well, the way it was explained to me is, they're part of an experiment. Right? A, uh, sociology experiment, to see if the popular people can make someone who ... who, uh, isn't popular ... popular." You feel yourself blushing hard. "You're trying to make <i>me</i> popular," you blurt out. "The guy named Will Prescott." You look around, in case a hole has opened up nearby that you can crawl in to.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," says Philip. "But it's more complicated now. Sean has indicated an interest in, um, contributing to our original project, but Taylor needs a new identity for reasons particular to his situation."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" Cindy asks.<br/>
<br/>
Fairfax turns an even gaze on her. "He's supposed to be dead," he says as though addressing a small child. "So he needs to be someone else."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy blushes. "Then why didn't you just put it that way instead?" she mutters under her breath. "Reasons particular to his situation," she growls.<br/>
<br/>
"But Sawyer doesn't need a new identity," you point out. "He's not dead, and he— Um." Your blush deepens. "I mean, is he going to help us out? Is he going to help Taylor out? Help out on the, uh, sociology experiment? Or is he just going to ... Just fuck around with a mask?"<br/>
<br/>
The atmosphere seems to thicken. The tension isn't dissipated when Sawyer drawls, "I don't mind helping out with that <i>experiment.</i>" His smirk deepens.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321411111222121
author_id: seuzz
title: Masks and Veils
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wince as you realize that you've walked into a trap of your own making. By asking if Sawyer is going to help out with your "project," you've given him an excuse to pick an alias close to your own. You want to tell him <i>Never mind,</i> but you take the coward's way out and mutter, "Sure, love to have your help."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I guess you and Sawyer need to talk over the possibilities," Philip says; you shoot him a small, spiteful glance. "You don't have to talk about it tonight, of course," he adds. "You should take your time."<br/>
<br/>
Sawyer gives you a sidelong look. There's hunger in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
"I think that's all," Philip says. "Thanks for coming out."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" you blurt out. "Is that all?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Jessica echoes. "Don't we have to talk about—?"<br/>
<br/>
"About what?" Philip interrupts her. He stares very evenly at her.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, I guess," she mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
So the meeting has a very rushed and anti-climactic conclusion, and you have the nasty impression that Philip set up the whole thing just so he could railroad an unlucky someone into being Sawyer's partner. You hop to your feet and hurry out the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey you!" Sawyer calls after. You grit your teeth and hurry faster. "Kristy! Will!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck.</i> He used your name—both of them!—and you fetch up in the middle of the hallway to wait for him. He bursts out of the storage bay and hurries up to you. He's quite tall, you discover. Taller than you were, probably. Taller than Sean or Taylor or Philip, certainly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so, you're not really gonna take forever to pick out a girl for me, are you?" He smirks down at you with a dirty gleam in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Does it have to be a girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'd like it. Don't <i>you</i> like it?" That smirk deepens. "You and those other guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, I'll pick out a girl for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. And you're not gonna take too long, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to rush you into anything. You know, in case you don't like her."<br/>
<br/>
That gleam in his eye warms, and you can't decide if you dislike him more when he's being friendly or when he's being a perv. <br/>
<br/>
"That's cool," he says. "Only I'm the kind of guy who can't wait to unwrap his presents at Christmas."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm. But don't you want to catch up with your family? You've been out of it for a couple of months."<br/>
<br/>
His bony shoulders jerk in a kind of shrug. "Well, from where I was laying, it's like it wasn't any time at all. You know? It's everyone else who was missing me." His chest puffs out, like he's proud of being so loved. "Anyway, the way Sean and Taylor explained it—" He glances back at the storage bay. "They're gonna make something that looks just like me, so no one'll miss me, and I can go back and forth when I feel like going home."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Well, I'll think about some names for you. Um, how about we talk Monday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't it be tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"You heard what Philip said. You shouldn't be in a rush. But I won't keep you waiting." You give him a tight smile, and turn away. This time he lets you go without stopping you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get a couple of texts before you're even back at your house. One is from Philip, and it's pretty long. The interesting part is that he tells you <i>not</i> to tell Sawyer that everyone else is getting two betas. Philip doesn't explain why he's keeping that a secret from Sawyer, but you're in no mood to help the newest member of the gang out, so you promise Fairfax you'll keep your mouth shut about it.<br/>
<br/>
The other important text is from Sean, asking if he can talk with you directly by phone. "Sorry about Sawyer," is the first thing he says on picking up.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be fine with him as long as he gets a different personality after we switch him with someone."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Taylor and I have an idea that could help you out there." Something about his tone suggests that Taylor is with him. "There's a guy out at Eastman you should suggest to him."<br/>
<br/>
You fall back onto your bed. <i>A guy? Eastman?</i><br/>
<br/>
"His name is Karter. Adam Karter, and it'd be a huge favor to us if you got Sawyer to be him."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a long pause. "Well, could you think about it?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I could think about lots of things," you retort, "like how come you're asking this favor without telling me what it's for."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, that's fair. Um, are you sure you can't come out and meet us?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought we were meeting tomorrow. To do the switch off with you and—" Even now, you have a hard time referring to yourself in the third person. "Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Right." His voice turns muffled as he talks to someone else. "Tomorrow afternoon? Up at Eastman? Say ... Two o'clock, in the student parking lot?" You tell him you'll see him there.<br/>
<br/>
Sean has woven a sense of mystery around his request, and it leaves you feeling very uneasy. But it's driven from your mind by the flood of texts that follows next.<br/>
<br/>
It starts with your replying to a text from Barbara Powell: <i>omg catfight at cathrines can u com out?</i> That was thirty minutes ago, and you don't want to deal with a "catfight," but you what happened. Half a dozen people then start peppering you with their versions of it. When you put it all together, you gather that Dominique and Hannah ran into each other at Catherine Muskov's; words were exchanged and Dominique fled, which led to Stephanie (who was also there) laying into Hannah, culminating in punches thrown, hair grabbed, and noses bloodied before Catherine threw them both out. The final text on the matter comes from Catherine herself: <i>u get stph to appoogize to me n hanna both or or i unlesh the cracken on her.</i> Your lips can't help twitching a little as you text back that you'll talk to your friend.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So it looks like it will be a busy Saturday for you. Fortunately, a deep sleep in the meantime has broken that weird mood that afflicted you Friday. You once more feel yourself at home in Kristy's body and life, and after a hot, invigorating shower you take a great deal of time picking out an ensemble for the drizzly day outside. You settle on a black sports top that you cover with an gray hoodie that you leave unzipped; sweat pants rolled up to just below the knee; and a dirty pair of sneakers. <br/>
<br/>
You pick it out with the intention of meeting up with Stephanie for a jog, during which you can get her side of whatever happened last night before passing on Catherine's warning. But Stephanie curtly dismisses your texts with a <i>busy at wrk</i> and won't even agree to talk later.<br/>
<br/>
So after texting some with Sean, you drive out at noon to meet Sean at Salopek Aerospace, where he works after school and on weekends.<br/>
<br/>
It's also where your real dad works, a fact that you confirm when Sean asks you about him in the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought maybe he did," he says as he leads you over to his truck. "Harris Prescott, right?" You nod. "Does he know anything about what's going on with all these impersonations?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! I hope not!"<br/>
<br/>
"He's not into the occult?"<br/>
<br/>
"My <i>dad?</i>" You almost fall over. "He's the most ... scientific, engineering type guy ever! When he was growing up he wanted to work on the space shuttle, stuff like that. My dad and magic?" Just the words leave you reeling. "Why are you asking?"<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't answer until you're in his truck and buckled up. "We have to pick up my brother," he says. "At Scott's." Your heart goes sideways at his words; it's not Sean, it's really Taylor you're talking to. "And I'm asking about your dad because— Well ..."<br/>
<br/>
You hate the way he hesitates.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so you know those masks that me and Scott and Sawyer found?" he says. "We found them here, at Salopek, in a box that was gonna go back to the sender. The person the box was addressed to here didn't want it. But we got into it before it could be returned."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you told me all that." It feels like a hole is opening up in your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Well, that box with the stuff in it was addressed to your dad."<br/>
<br/>
The statement sounds very blank, almost dull, after the build up, for you were actually expecting it after Taylor's hints and hesitations. But that only means it's not a shock. It still leaves you feeling like you want to throw up.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you hear me?" Taylor says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I heard you. But you said he didn't want the stuff. That there'd been a mistake. It wasn't for him!"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess not. But why would someone send him stuff like that if he didn't want it? If he wasn't even <i>interested</i> in that kind of thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck if I know!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's something Sean and I want to figure out. Um. Do you mind?"<br/>
<br/>
You blush and cross your arms. "Mind? Why would I mind? I don't give a— I mean, I hope you <i>do</i> figure it out. I'm sure it was just a mix up." You shrug, and your shoulders stay up somewhere near your ears. "It was supposed to go to someone else," you blurt out in a rush, "and they accidentally put my dad's name on the box instead. I'm sure that's all. But how are you going to figure it all out?"<br/>
<br/>
"From the return address. We're gonna go out and investigate the person who sent it. That's why we want to talk to you about a mask for Sawyer."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'd have to go out of town," he explains. "I can take off anytime 'cos I'm not in school anymore." He hunches. "I'm not even supposed to be alive. But the mask we want would actually be for Sean. The guy we want to copy is practically a drop out, so no one would notice him skipping school for a week or so."</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213214111112221212
author_id: seuzz
title: By Mystery Possessed
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So tell me this plan you guys got, from the start," you tell Taylor. "Maybe I want to be in on it."<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you in surprise. "Why's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because my <i>dad</i> might be mixed up in it! You told me his name was on the box the stuff came in."<br/>
<br/>
"You said it was a mix-up."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure! But I need to know, man!"<br/>
<br/>
Taylor sucks on his lower lip, then shrugs. "It's what I told you. The idea is we get some aliases and we leave town to go check up on where the stuff came from."<br/>
<br/>
"So where <i>did</i> it come from? What city? And why do you need an alias? Why can't you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Would <i>you</i> wanna go out investigating this kind of stuff without putting on a disguise?" Taylor retorts. <br/>
<br/>
You see his point, and lapse into silence.<br/>
<br/>
"So the plan," he continues, "is that we get some false faces for ourselves. Fairfax is making up a new identity for me, so that's a face I can put on and take off, no problem. But Sean wants to go too—" <br/>
<br/>
His jaw tightens, and you infer that there was some argument between the brothers about whether Taylor would make it a solo assignment. <br/>
<br/>
"Anyway," he continues, "the, uh, logistics of it are a bitch to keep straight, but we're gonna need two masks, one for Sean and one for Sawyer."<br/>
<br/>
"Sawyer's going too?" Maybe you don't want to go with them.<br/>
<br/>
"No, he's staying behind. We'll <i>make</i> him stay behind." He gives you a quick look. "Don't tell any of this to Fairfax, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>More secrecy</i>. But you nod. <br/>
<br/>
"It'd be better if you stayed behind too," Taylor mutters. "You and Sean are supposed to be—" He breaks off. "Um, you're supposed to be a couple or something, right?" <br/>
<br/>
"I'm going," you insist. Taylor grimaces.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, in that case we'll need a third mask, for you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The whole thing begins to sound very confused and hare-brained, especially after you pick up Sean—in the Scott Bickelmeir mask—and the twins start arguing with each other about how they had decided to do things. None of you is very well-informed on the masks and how they are supposed to work, and you get the dreadful feeling that you're going to fuck up somehow.<br/>
<br/>
But after stopping at a dollar store to buy a small notebook and pencil, and parking at the municipal athletic fields so you can hash it out without risking a car wreck, a firm plan develops. It takes lots of sketching, of names and arrows and little mask icons to indicate which masks would be going onto which people. But the bottom line of the final plan calls for you guys to get three new masks from Fairfax and the gang. One for you and one for Sean to wear on the adventure, and one for Sawyer to wear while he stays behind to supposedly help you and Sean improve your social life while you're out of town. Your beta will remain behind, of course, and Kristy will have to stay behind as a beta as well.<br/>
<br/>
You probably won't have much trouble ordering up the masks. Each person in the gang (except for Sawyer, per Fairfax's orders) has the right to two aliases. Sean already has two—Scott Bickelmeir and Will Prescott—but you still need to pick an additional one for yourself. Taylor has said he just wants one alias—the new one that Fairfax is making for him—but he can tell Philip that he's changed his mind. That way you can get an alias you can leave town under; and the one that Taylor picks as his second will actually be worn by Sean while Taylor will leave town under the new character being constructed by Fairfax.<br/>
<br/>
But the Mitchells have additional news for you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So, here's the rest of what we're investigating," Sean says after you're back on the road out to Eastman High School. He's much more forthcoming than his brother. "Some pretty bizarre stuff happened to Sawyer while he was in that coma. You know he had that mask on? Turns out it wasn't like the ones that Taylor and Scott made."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it didn't turn him into someone else," you observe.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, it did."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" You swing around with your mouth hanging open. You remember seeing Sawyer in that hospital bed. It was him, and you're pretty sure his family and the doctors would have noticed if it was someone else.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Except it wasn't like transformation, like with—" He points to his face; Scott's face. "It was like possession. Long-distance possession."<br/>
<br/>
"Unless it was just a dream," Taylor puts in.<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty goddam lifelike dream, bro, from the way he described it. And accurate. Everything he said he did in it checks out."<br/>
<br/>
"What did he dream?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"That he was this old guy out at Salopek," Sean says. "Jack—" He nudges Taylor. "What's Jack's last name? But anyway," he continues when Taylor shrugs, "he runs the mail system and storage centers out there. And Sawyer says that he <i>was</i> Jack while he was in the hospital, the same way I'm Scott and you're Kristy."<br/>
<br/>
Sean looks at you with Scott Bickelmeir's eyes; you look back at him with Kristy Suffolk's. <br/>
<br/>
"So he knew everything that Jack knew," he continues, "and he knew how to act like him." To Taylor: "That's gotta suck harder than being Scott, right?" To you: "Jack's, like, sixty years old."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"And everything that Sawyer says he saw in this dream, everything he did, it all matches up with stuff that we know Jack did at work." Sean lifts his cap and scratches his scalp. "He remembers when I came in after being hired, and he remembers stuff happening out there that I remember happening too. Stuff that Sawyer couldn't know 'cos, you know, he was in a hospital bed in a coma. So it was like his spirit went out and possessed Jack."<br/>
<br/>
"So why didn't he say anything to anyone, while he was being this Jack guy?" you ask. "To you? Or to Taylor? Why didn't he go looking for you guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"He says he was freaked out. Wouldn't you be? He was too freaked out to even go up to the hospital to look at himself."<br/>
<br/>
Silence falls over the cab of the truck. It kind of makes sense, you guess. If you found yourself suddenly transported into another person's body, with no idea how you got there, you'd freak out too. <br/>
<br/>
Except you'd try not to show it. You'd probably carry on as carefully as you could, trying not to attract notice.<br/>
<br/>
"And you know," Taylor says after this quiet interlude, "after I'd been stuck as Scott for awhile, I started not being sure who I really was. Was I me disguised as Scott, or was I Scott and had Taylor's memories all mixed up with mine? It was probably something like that with Sawyer.<br/>
<br/>
That gives you something else to chew on. "You said after you got out Scott's mask you didn't want to be someone else," you tell Taylor. "So why is Sawyer so hot to get back in a mask?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean snorts. "After being an old, unsexy guy, he says he wants to be a really sexy girl. <i>Scrape the old man stink off me,</i> is what he said." You shudder and retch.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, Sawyer told all this to us and Fairfax," Taylor says. "Fairfax is all excited about it. He's got that mask that Sawyer was wearing. I bet he gets into it soon, if he hasn't got into it already."<br/>
<br/>
Taylor says, "You told me Jack was sick yesterday, didn't come in to work. You think maybe Fairfax was ...?"<br/>
<br/>
"Could be. Whatever it was, it was lucky for us, 'cos I got in to copy that return address."<br/>
<br/>
"The one on the box my dad was supposed to get?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. Jack— Sawyer— Whoever. After he got turned into Jack, he put the box aside, off in his own private corner. Sawyer told me where it was, and yesterday I snuck in and got it."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you tell Philip?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're gonna give him the stuff out of it, but we're not going to give him the box. We'll tell him we threw it away. That way only we know where it came from."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Again with the secrecy.</i><br/>
<br/>
"As long as he's got the stuff out of the box," Taylor snorts, "I bet he'll be happy as a pig in slop."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's that stuff out of the box that you're driving to Eastman High to get. After the accident, Taylor split up the stuff they'd taken from it. Some of it wound up back at his and Sean's house, but the rest of it he hid in a maintenance tunnel at the other high school.<br/>
<br/>
So they're meeting some guys up there—team guys who can get into the school's athletic facilities. From there, they can sneak into the tunnel where Taylor hid the rest of the stuff.<br/>
<br/>
"It's guys from the basketball team," Taylor tells you. "It's not our usual thing," he admits, for Scott and Sean are football players and wrestlers. But it's the only way of getting into the building. "It's one reason we asked you to come. You— Kristy is on the girls' squad back at Westside. So it makes sense you'd come out and watch."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want me to sneak off and try getting the stuff? You guys are going to be busy on the court."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know where it is," Taylor says.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't either," Sean points out. "You should tell us, in case you can't get away."<br/>
<br/>
So while sitting in the parking lot at Eastman, Taylor describes the layout of the gym, how to get from there to the storage and maintenance areas, and where in it he hid the box of loot. "And here," he says, handing you a small flashlight from the glove compartment. "You might need this."<br/>
<br/>
"Am I the one who's going to try getting it out?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to," Taylor replies. "But it's best to be prepared, right?"</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321214
author_id: seuzz
title: Putting the Magic Back in the Tricks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Sorry, I've got some other stuff I have to do this afternoon," you tell Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
You'd really like it if she begged, and you wouldn't mind if she got mad, but she only nods and shrugs it off. Someone trips you as you make your way over to your chair, but you swallow the snarl when you see it's Rennerhoff.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Because you're not mature enough for this kind of thing," Carson Ioeger says. "That's how come." He leans back in his chair and sniggers openly at you.<br/>
<br/>
Your retort is pre-empted by the purse-mouthed school librarian. "Please don't put your feet on the tables," she softly scolds as she walks by. Carson, with a tight smile, drops his great boat-like feet to the floor with a thud. But after she's gone, he leans back and puts them back up. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, like <i>you're</i> real mature," you retort. "And what was so mature about gluing all of Javits's books together that time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Very little," Carson admits. "Which is why we're trying to get away from that kind of thing." He looks over as the library doors open. A squad of sophomore girls charges in, and he returns to you. "Pitch me an idea for a prank, and if I like it, <i>maybe</i> we'll let you help implement it."<br/>
<br/>
You rub your nose. It's three-fifty—only a quarter-hour since classes ended—so the library is still fairly crowded. A few students have drifted in to do some homework; those who'd camped out for eighth-period study hall are beginning to pack up their stuff; but there are other knots and wads of students milling about like it's happy hour at a bar.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I didn't say I wanted to help you guys work on something," you tell Carson. "I'm just looking for something to do today."<br/>
<br/>
"Something happen to Johansson and Tilley?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "I'm kind of trying to avoid Keith. He's got this extra-credit thing he wants me to do."<br/>
<br/>
"You should take him up on it," says Carson, and his bantering tone turns serious. "Your C-plusses won't earn themselves the old-fashioned way."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you." You knock his feet off the table, and he grins. "And I can't hang out with Caleb in case—"<br/>
<br/>
"But what's this extra-credit thing Tilley wants you to do? Does <i>he</i> need the help?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keith needs help with lots of things. But it's for Hawks's classes."<br/>
<br/>
"Your film class? Ha!" Carson throws his head back and laughs again. "Extra credit for a freaking class where all you do is—"<br/>
<br/>
"You took Mr. Hawks for English last year, you know what he's like!" You slap at Carson's feet again as he raises them back to the table, but he kicks your hand away with a grin. "He's the same way, only more so, because he <i>knows</i> that people think that—"<br/>
<br/>
Carson waves his hand. "Yeah, yeah. Point is, you need extra credit, so—"<br/>
<br/>
"I do not!"<br/>
<br/>
"No? What's your grade in there currently?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate. "He hasn't given us a mid-term grade or anything yet."<br/>
<br/>
Carson snorts. "You know what I mean. What grades have you been getting on the assignments?"<br/>
<br/>
You glower. "Well, it's a dumb extra-credit idea anyway!"<br/>
<br/>
Carson laughs again. "That's what I thought." The library door opens. This time it's James Lamont who enters, and Carson sits up. "But though I'm flattered you want to hang out with us—" He stops and frowns at the look on his friend's face. <br/>
<br/>
For Lamont is wincing. "Gotta cancel on you, man," he says, and waggles his iPhone at Carson. "My mom needs me to babysit."<br/>
<br/>
"So? We'll take the sprog with us. You can't get 'em started too young."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be stupid, I'm not gonna bring along—"<br/>
<br/>
"So how am I supposed to—?"<br/>
<br/>
They talk over each other before simultaneously falling silent. James looks very pinched, but his expression turns thoughtful when his gaze falls on you.<br/>
<br/>
Carson follows his glance. "No," he tells James.<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?" Lamont lowers his voice so that you can't hear anything except "—into it—" and something that sounds like "owe it to him."<br/>
<br/>
Carson glances back at you again. "Hang tight, Prescott," he says, and putting an arm around James he draws his friend off into a corner.<br/>
<br/>
You slouch, and your stomach sours as you await the decisions and dispositions of others. <i>It would sure be nice to be in charge of something for a change,</i> you think, <i>instead of having to wait for other people to decide whether or not I get to do stuff with them.</i> Lower and lower you sink, and you cross your arms, and when Carson's voice rises in volume, you ostentatiously turn your back on him.<br/>
<br/>
You don't look around when the voices finally cut out, but when a hand shoves the bill of your cap down over your face, you fly up with a snarl. Carson only leers at you. "Come on, you wanna be involved? Now's your chance."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Phfbpt!</i>" But you were begging earlier, and you need to be somewhere with someone that will give you an excuse to dodge Keith and Braydon and Stephanie, so you hike your backpack to your shoulders and follow Carson out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"We're going for stuff that's more conceptual these days," he explains on the drive away from school. He'd insisted on your leaving your truck behind—"I'll drop you off back there later"—so you could ride with him. He's very mysterious about the destination.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, gluing Javits's books together, or his feet to the floor, is a lot of fun," he continues. "But it's crude. There's no artistry behind it, no magic. Really," he sniffs, "it's not much better than what <i>those guys</i> do to the rest of us."<br/>
<br/>
"Except you're doing it to them, which makes it funny," you put in.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah." He chuckles, and smoothly changes lanes. "But these days we're trying for an effect that is more, um, indirect. We're trying to get inside their heads instead of up their noses."<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?"<br/>
<br/>
"By invading their space. We're trying to do it, even, without them knowing we're the ones doing it, or that someone is even doing something to them."<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?" you repeat. "I mean, give me an example of—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, take that gag you mentioned about gluing Javits's books together. First, he knows that was someone doing something mean to him. B, he had a pretty good idea who did it."<br/>
<br/>
"He thought it was Keith."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, and it was pretty fucking insulting when he <i>did</i> blame it on Tilley, like it was the kind of dopey shit someone like Tilley would come up with. That's when me and James starting talking about—"<br/>
<br/>
"Can you just get to the point?"<br/>
<br/>
"The point is—Roman numeral three—it still really put a dent in his day. Me and James, when we got to talking about it, decided that <i>that's</i> really what it should all be about. Hurting guys like Javits and Patterson and Black, but without them <i>realizing</i> it was someone who did it to them. To them it should feel like karma."<br/>
<br/>
"You just don't want them hauling you and James onto the roof of the gym and leaving you there, like Seth did to Keith."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, how did he get down, anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>He</i> said he shimmied down a drainpipe, but me and Caleb think he just took turns falling onto lower and lower roofs until he reached the ground. He hasn't got the upper body strength to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, whatever, the thing is that, me and James, we're not scared of them doing something like that to us," Carson continues. "We just want to leave them spooked. Like, you ever have that feeling there's someone plotting against you, that there's a secret enemy out there who's out to get you, but you're not sure who?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? Huh. Well, what about conspiracy theories? Like, the Illuminati or the CIA. You ever get the feeling, when you're watching the news, that maybe there's someone in back of all the bad stuff, organizing it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sometimes," you tell him, more to get him to shut up than because you do. You hardly even pay attention to the news.<br/>
<br/>
"So, it's kind of like that," Carson says. "That's the feeling we want them to get. That <i>maybe</i> all the bad stuff that's happening is coincidence, or <i>maybe</i> there's a kind of plot against them. But they can't tell for sure."<br/>
<br/>
You squeeze the bridge of your nose. "Example, Carson?" you ask him for the third time.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you have to understand that me and James, we <i>really</i> don't want any word of what we're doing and how we're doing it leaking out. That would totally ruin things for us. In lots of ways.<br/>
<br/>
"I promise, I won't tell anyone."<br/>
<br/>
"You better not, because if you do—" Carson's face tightens. "I promise we will do to you everything we've got planned for them. Only more so."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't frighten you, and you calmly repeat your promise.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," he says. "I'm not going to tell you about the next thing we've got planned, but we're already putting it together. That's what we were doing when you ran into us on Sunday. But I'll tell you the last thing we did."<br/>
<br/>
You're briefly distracted by his casual reference to "when you ran into us on Sunday." You haven't seen Carson and James outside of school in weeks. And you spent all day Sunday with Carlos and Mike. <br/>
<br/>
So you don't really follow the start of what proves to be a short lecture in chemistry, and only start paying attention when he says, "So it's a much better way of getting that rotten egg smell everywhere."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, what?" you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
"I said we used ammonia sulfide instead of hydrogen sulfide. It disperses better, which distributes the smell farther even as the ammonia reacts to sunlight. We've heard them talking about it, so we <i>know</i> it stinks up there in that loft of there's."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you saying you dropped a bunch of stink bombs in the fuck room?"<br/>
<br/>
"More or less," Carson says.</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212141
author_id: seuzz
title: A Story About Stephanie's Brother
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Stink bombs?" you exclaim. "After that build-up, I was expecting better than stink bombs!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," Carson snarls. "You wanna get out now?" He veers toward the shoulder of the road.<br/>
<br/>
"No! Ah, fuck it, let it be stink bombs. I got nothing better to do anyway." You slouch in your seat.<br/>
<br/>
"No, just some extra credit you're blowing off. It sure makes me feel special," Carson grumbles, "that you only wanna hang out 'cos you got nothing stinking else to do."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not true! I ditched—" You count them up on your fingers. "Three other possible commitments. Four, if you count Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, your life is so full."<br/>
<br/>
"I did!" You tick them off one at a time. "There was Keith and that extra credit thing, that's one. Caleb, I had to dodge him in case Keith went looking for him. Braydon Delp wanted me to go up to the university to talk to some professor or other."<br/>
<br/>
"Keyserling?" Carson does a double take at you. "What's with you blowing off all these academic commitments?"<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't an academic commitment, it was about a—! Never mind! I'm sick of telling that story. Anyway, that's three. Oh, and Stephanie Wyatt wanted to borrow my truck to move some stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Stephanie!" Carson barks. "Wyatt? God!" He shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
This reaction startles you, but you quickly decide he must be thinking of those rumors Caleb mentioned. "Yeah, I know, right? Caleb says she's a dyke."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's her business if she is," Carson snorts. He peers down his nose at the traffic coagulating at the upcoming intersection. "I'm thinking abut her brother. Jesus. You remember her brother? Kevin?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know she had a brother. Oh, wait, I heard—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh she's got one. One at least. I hope that's all. He was a senior when we were freshmen. You must remember him."<br/>
<br/>
"No. So what about him? I guess he made an impression on <i>you</i>. I mean, I remember Lucy Vredenburg," you continue when Carson says nothing. "She was a couple of years ahead of us, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Lucy! Fuck me, yeah!" Carson sucks hard on his lower lip. "Those senior girls, oh yeah, I remember all the senior and junior girls when we were—" He pounds the car console with his fist and falls silent. You too go into a bit of a reverie as you remember some of those girls—or, at least, their bare legs and ripe boobs and cascading hair. <i>God—or whoever arranged this seating chart—is very good,</i> you thought to yourself your sophomore year when you were put behind Brenda Tremaine in your Spanish class. Brenda, who wore her hair short and the backs of her dresses low. Her neck made you think of ice cream—so lickable!<br/>
<br/>
"But Kevin Wyatt." Carson's voice shakes you out of the memory. "Fuck."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? So what about this guy?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson only compresses his lips and concentrates on the traffic. He darts you a couple of glances when you say nothing else, then shrugs. "Oh, not something I like to talk about."<br/>
<br/>
"Why? Was he an asshole, he did stuff to you back in the day? Like Black and Patterson do to you now?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but he was on the basketball team, and I think Patterson learned at least some of his asshole tricks from him. I heard he really fucked up some guys in his time. And he wasn't big, either, not like Gordon and Patterson are big. I mean, he was taller than most, and he worked out. But he looked pretty normal otherwise. Oh, except he wore his hair in a mullet. Christ." Carson shakes his head again. "And you know the really fucked up part? He actually looked <i>good</i> in it."<br/>
<br/>
You grin. "You thought he was good looking?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. I got testimonials. He was Mr. Leopold's teacher's aide the year I took freshman Algebra, and I got to watch all semester as all the girls crawled all over him like maggots on a dead dog. He wore these cheap, tight t-shirts and torn jeans, and flip-flops, and he had this weedy moustache like he was a fucking stoner. But he was on the basketball and track teams, too, <i>and</i> when I looked into joining the debating club I found out he was the president of it and also taking AP classes out the ass. I heard later he got a full scholarship to Duke, fuck 'im, and not an athletic scholarship either."<br/>
<br/>
"No wonder you're jealous."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say I was jealous," Carson retorts. "That's not why—He was disgusting, that's how come—" He wrinkles his nose and rubs it. "I only told this to James and a couple of other guys, because I didn't want it getting around and back to Kevin what I'd seen, 'cos I didn't want him to come around and, you know, do to me what he'd done to some other guys. And then I just didn't want to talk about it."<br/>
<br/>
"You're still not talking about it."<br/>
<br/>
"And maybe I won't! Shut up, Prescott." And he falls quiet for a bit.<br/>
<br/>
But having stung himself into the memory, apparently he can't keep it back. "So, anyway, and I'm just going to get this out as quickly as possible, one day I'm out by the portables being stupid when I hear these noises coming from out back, like people are talking, but real indistinct. So, like a moron, I go around to see what the deal is. And I come around the corner, and there's Kevin Wyatt. He's standing there, facing one of the portables, and he's bracing himself against it, you know, palms up against it, like he's doing calisthenics or like he's trying to push it over. But if he is, he's trying to push it over with his pelvis, because he's going 'Nnhn, nnhn, nnhn, nhhn' at it with his dick."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. "You mean he was jerking off?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Because there was a girl wedged between him and the portable. Her skirt was down around her ankles and his jeans were down around his knees, and it was like he was trying to jam her through the wall with his cock."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" You'd heard rumors of such antics going out at the portables, but Carson has actually seen such?<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah. And she wasn't facing him, either. She was turned to the wall, so I guess he was taking her, you know, by the back door."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!"<br/>
<br/>
"And the really disgusting part, the absolute cherry on the shit sundae that was Kevin Wyatt thrusting his cock up this girl's ass, al fresco, on school property?" Carson hisses at the memory. "He was smoking the whole time. Had a cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth, and he was sucking on it and blowing out these little streams of smoke over the top of her head while she's going 'Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh!' in this squeaky little voice." He shudders. "And while I was watching, trying to collect myself so I could run away without leaving my jaw behind, he takes the cigarette out of his mouth, looks to the side, and spits. Big old blob, right at the ground. Then he puts the cigarette back in his mouth. And all the time he's still thrusting at her, didn't even break rhythm once."<br/>
<br/>
You can't find your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Yep," says Carson. "That was Stephanie Wyatt's big brother, and if he's typical of the breed, they can keep to themselves as far as I'm concerned."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, that story makes you glad that you didn't help Stephanie, even if her big brother is off at Duke and there's no chance of running into him at her house. And somehow it puts her in a much worse light. Your heart sinks even as your gorge rises.<br/>
<br/>
And that knocks you back into a semi-reflective mood. Why should this story about her brother bother you so much? Obviously it's not on account of what you now know about her brother, because until Carson told it you didn't even know he existed. No, it's because you're disappointed that Stephanie is related to such a cretin. <br/>
<br/>
But why should you care enough to be disappointed? It's not like she's ever been one of your favorite people. On the contrary, Carson's story ought to confirm every bad impression you ever had of people named Wyatt. In fact, given the stereotype you've been carrying around in your head—plus Caleb's rumormongering—you can almost imagine Stephanie strapping on a dildo and doing the same thing to one of your own classmates.<br/>
<br/>
But this story does cause your heart to sink. <br/>
<br/>
Maybe—<i>Oh God, could it be?</i>—that with all the weird fixating you were having on her recently, you were getting a little bit of a crush on her?<br/>
<br/>
You do a full body spasm, almost pitching yourself through the windshield.<br/>
<br/>
"You okay over there, Prescott?" Carson asks. Only now do you realize that the conversation had entirely failed.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah. Just got a real vivid picture of that scene you painted for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Have a nightmare about it tonight, why don't you? I know I sometimes dream about it, and those are the mornings I don't wake up with wood."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, anyway, the point is that I'm with you now instead of with Stephanie or any of those other guys. But where are we going?"<br/>
<br/>
"Enemy territory," he says. And such is Carson's vocal mannerism that you can't tell if he's being sarcastic. But a few minutes later he's turning into the parking lot of Eastman High School. <br/>
<br/>
"So what's here? Does it have to do with your next prank against Black and them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like you care," he sneers. "Let's just say I'm here to talk to some guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Can I come in with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"You can come in," he says as he slides into an empty parking spot, "you can stay here, or you can walk home. Your call, and I ain't hangin' around to see what you decide."</span></div></div>


path: 11331212
author_id: seuzz
title: Things Best Left Buried
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Mr. Barrientos?"<br/>
<br/>
The teacher looks up from his desk at the sound of his name and the tap at his door. You are momentarily taken aback because he really does look like a more tan version of Mr. Walberg. Okay, maybe he's also fatter—squeezed into his jeans he looks like an ice cream cone—but he makes up for it with a better style. You especially like the bolo tie at his neck.<br/>
<br/>
But right now he's looking at you with a look of blank incomprehension. No surprise, for you've never had him: he teaches Horticulture classes. "Hi, my name's Will Prescott, and I was one of the kids out at the portables this morning, when you came out?"<br/>
<br/>
A light of recognition comes into his eyes; also a look of weariness and disappointment. "Oh, yes. Well, you don't have to worry about that, I didn't report anybody."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks, I guess. But, um— Well, in all the mess, my backpack got dumped out all over the ground? And I had to pick all my stuff up? And I lost one of my books when it happened."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you ask the other fellows about it? Maybe they found it?"<br/>
<br/>
"They wouldn't give it back, sir. Not even if I asked." You feel your cheeks color.<br/>
<br/>
Now he seems to see you for the first time. "Mm. I see. What kind of book was it? For what class?"<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't for a class, sir. It was a— Well, it was kind of an antique that I'd brought in to show some people. It came out of the special collections at Arnholm's."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. So it was valuable? How valuable?"<br/>
<br/>
"Arnholm's was selling it for two hundred dollars," you tell him, eliding the point that you'd bought it for two. "It's very old."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah." His expression tightens. It tightens even further when you add a flat-out lie, telling him that the book doesn't belong to you. "I will see what I can do about that, Will," he tells you, and scribbles down your name and a description of the book. "The fact that it is of some value will probably help us in recovering it for you. The threat of the police— Not that I think the police really would be interested, mind you," he adds. "But they don't need to know that, do they?" He winks heavily at you. "Who were these boys?" You give him their names. "I'll let you know when I hear something," he tells you in a fatherly manner, and when you leave you are rather wishing you had him instead of Mr. Walberg for Sociology.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"The problem," says Caleb as he drops another shovelful of dirt at your feet, "is that you made a stink about it. If you'd kept your mouth shut—" He grunts as he jams the shovel into the earth again. "Then they'd have forgotten all about it. As it is—" He lifts another shovelful and drops it on the growing pile. "Now you're going to have to hire those girls on as bodyguards."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, have your joke," you retort. "If you're not going to help me, why should I help you?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not helping me, unless you're standing guard against an appearance of the north wind." He turns over another spadeful of dirt.<br/>
<br/>
It's almost midnight, and you're in the wide quad between A wing and the Music Wing, digging up the time capsule that had been buried only that morning. Kelsey Blankenship—one of the AP girls—had officiated, reading some specially-by-her composed folderol about messages from the past to the future off a creased piece of notebook paper. Then the class had trooped back to the room, where Mr. Walberg had handed out the second half of the assignment. <br/>
<br/>
And that's why you and Caleb are out here now trying to get back into the capsule. Or, rather, that's why Caleb is. You're just along for moral support, and you remind him of that fact.<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm giving you moral support against Spencer and those psychos," says Caleb. "You say that's not doing any good? Well, your moral support's not helping this dirt come up any faster or easier."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes and glance around. There's a wind, but it's not a cold one, for it's still only the middle of September. There's a sound of traffic a few hundred yards off, but at this time of night, hardly any cars sweep along Borman Road, to startle you with their head beams. "What are you putting into the time capsule?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, a CD."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, but of what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like it matters. It's blank. For my paper, I'll tell Walberg it's the top twenty songs of last week."<br/>
<br/>
"So write that on the paper. Why do you have to dig it up and swap the thing out for a CD?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because, Will, Mr. Walberg is one mean-minded son of a bitch," says Caleb, leaning on the shovel to catch his breath. "I told him I was giving him a thumb drive, and I gave him a thumb drive, and he wrote down that I gave him a thumb drive. So if I turn in a paper telling him that I gave him a CD, he'll challenge me on it, and when I tell him he made a mistake, that I gave him a CD and not a thumb drive, he'll dig this fucking capsule up to prove me wrong. This way," he says as he resumes work, "when he digs it up it'll be <i>him</i> who's proven wrong."<br/>
<br/>
That still doesn't answer your question, but the fact that Caleb doesn't get it almost persuades you to drop it. He's usually smarter than you about these schemes, so it probably means you're just dumb.<br/>
<br/>
This is probably what it's like being Keith Tilley, you reflect grimly: Walking around with the vague feeling that your friends are smarter than you in a way you can't really comprehend.<br/>
<br/>
But you decide to press it: "No, what I mean is, on your paper why can't you just write that you gave him a thumb drive full of music, the top twenty songs of last week or whatever? Why does it have to be a <i>CD</i> of music? What's wrong with putting music on a thumb drive? I mean, with saying that's what you did?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb pauses.<br/>
<br/>
"Because the problem isn't that you gave him a thumb drive, right?" you continue. "The problem is that you gave him a thumb drive full of <i>porn.</i> That's why you don't want to write that paper for him, about what you put in the time capsule. Because you don't want to say you gave him a thumb drive full of <i>porn.</i> So tell him it was a thumb drive full of music."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stands stock still. Then he gets out of the hole—still very shallow—and begins throwing dirt back into it. "Why couldn't you have said this six hours ago, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't explain it to me enough to see it," you say with a shrug. "Oh, and now that I've helped you out of your hole, can you help me out of my mine?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I'll tell you the same thing you just told me. <i>Stop digging the hole you're already in.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But the problem isn't that you're digging a hole. The problem is that you've already dug it. You dug it when you talked to Mr. Barrientos.<br/>
<br/>
The sequel, at first, was a relief. You talked to the teacher on Monday afternoon. On Wednesday morning you got called into the office, where Mr. Sagansky—the principal himself—presented you with the book and assurances that all had been taken care of.<br/>
<br/>
You'd felt a flutter of black anticipation at his words, and sure enough the sequel had come after third period. Horner and Spencer had been in class that day, and you'd felt (rather than seen) them follow close behind as you'd left. You'd heard their braying voices all down the hallway, talking about things that didn't concern you, as though you were nowhere on their mind. Their voices had cut out when you'd opened your locker. But as you'd changed your books, you'd felt a pressure from behind, as of bodies squeezing against you.<br/>
<br/>
You'd a dreadful premonition that it was something sinister, but put it away: it only had to be the crowd jostling past. But then you'd turned around, and found Spencer and Hunter and Call and Thomason standing in a close semicircle, pinning you in. They were grinning at you, and they had their hands behind their backs. <br/>
<br/>
You'd grimaced back, and tried squeezing between them, but they'd shuffled forward, jamming you against your locker. They are large assholes—except for Hunter, who's about your size—and without striking at them you were unable get through them. There they stood until the bell rang; and then the tardy bell; and for another five minutes, grinning without speaking.<br/>
<br/>
Then they'd broken off, leaving you to stagger away, trembling.<br/>
<br/>
You were only late for lunch that period. But they were there again after fifth, and after sixth. The composition of the group changed, with some dropping out while others—like Tanner Evans and George Mendoza—cycled in. It was the same in each case: pinning you to your locker without touching you with their hands, and keeping you there until you were well and truly late to class.<br/>
<br/>
That was Wednesday. And Thursday. And Friday.<br/>
<br/>
But at least you got that book of magic away from them, right?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It sits now by your computer, on a bright Saturday morning, and you glower at it. You got it away from them, but what are you going to do with it?<br/>
<br/>
It's too bad you didn't take it with you last night, when you met Caleb. You could have done what you originally set out to do: Bury it in the time capsule. But you didn't. And now you're wondering if the damn thing really is worth the bother. You've done a little online research on it, and turned up one hit that seems to be about it. Maybe it really is a valuable book; you could probe more deeply to find out.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe you could swallow those trepidations you've felt, and explore the book itself.</span></div></div>


