# chapters

path: 1131311221222111
author_id: seuzz
title: Two Grave Diggers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"<i>Mccchhhhggkkhhhh,</i>" you moan, and feebly slap at your face. <br/>
<br/>
"Give it time, fella," says the blonde kid, "and you'll look the part without having to hurry it along."<br/>
<br/>
"Necromancy," the other one says. "Not much of a surprise. But it being <i>this</i> guy, and <i>here</i>-- It's an odd coincidence. <i>Damned</i> odd."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe Blackwell likes 'em fresh," says the blonde one.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Mccchhhhggkkhhhh,</i>" you repeat, in a louder tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, you'd find my brain a little too rich for your diet," says the blonde one.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Nnnggkkhhhh,</i>" you grumble. <br/>
<br/>
"Joe, you notice anything odd about our footloose corpse?" <br/>
<br/>
Blondie looks you up and down. "He dressed casual for his own funeral?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right. I think he <i>might</i> be trying to tell us something."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. 'I killed myself in a car wreck and all I got for a burial shroud was this lousy t-shirt'."<br/>
<br/>
"See if you can interpret."<br/>
<br/>
"You're joking! There's rules against communicating with the dead."<br/>
<br/>
"It's already talking. We won't talk back. We'll just listen."<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna consult our lawyer first."<br/>
<br/>
"Just do it. I'll take responsibility."<br/>
<br/>
The blonde one makes a face and sticks out his tongue. He plucks at it, as though trying to pull a hair off it. Then--gagging the whole time--he bends down and shoves three fingers in your mouth.<br/>
<br/>
The other one also bends low. "Okay, try again," he says to you. "What are you trying to say?"<br/>
<br/>
You wish you could roll your eyes. You can't speak anyway; you're going to do better with a mouthful of that guy's fingers? "I said, I'm wearing a mask," the blonde kids says very slowly. His eyes widen.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't pay any attention to what's going on up there," the other one tells you with a faint smile. "Just keep going."<br/>
<br/>
Something seems to loosen in your throat. "I'm wearing a mask," the blonde one repeats as you will your own mouth to work. "Please take it off me."<br/>
<br/>
"How do we do that?"<br/>
<br/>
The blonde one says exactly how to remove the mask from you. When he's done, he pulls his fingers from your mouth, shudders elaborately, and spits to the side. But instead of taking the mask off you, they deposit you in the bed of their truck.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"We'll drop him in the dining room," the dark-haired one says as they help you up the walk to the front door of a small house.<br/>
<br/>
"Can't we put him in the back yard?" says the blonde one.<br/>
<br/>
"I sleep there. How about we put him in <i>your</i> bed?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why is it that the creepier things get, the funnier your jokes become? Oh, right, you and <i>graves.</i>" He fumbles at the lock with a key. "Foyer," he says. "In case we have to mop."<br/>
<br/>
They drop you onto a tiled surface in a way that makes you glad you can't feel anything. At another word from the dark-haired one, the blonde one grasps your face, says the words, and pulls.<br/>
<br/>
It's like nails being ripped out of your flesh, but it actually feels good. You don't even pass out; instead you tingle all over. You clap your hands together and smile at your stick-like forearms. "Thank God!"<br/>
<br/>
"You might thank <i>us</i> too, a little," says the blonde one. "He looks better," he says to the other one, "but I still don't want him in my bed."<br/>
<br/>
"What if he had tits?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not even in that case. Okay, you, kid," he says to you. "You got a name, or is it back to <i>Mccchhhhggkkhhhh</i> and <i>Nnnggkkhhhh</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
You're so glad to be back you don't even give it a second thought. "Will Prescott. Who are you guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Frank. This is Joe," says the dark-haired one. "Have we met?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah," says Joe. "Munsons, about ten days ago. You were at the next table with your ear flapping."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you say, feeling serene about the confession. "You guys had a mask. I almost asked you about it."<br/>
<br/>
"You have a professional interest in those things?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. But I have a friend who was making things like them."<br/>
<br/>
His eyebrows go up. "Your friend do you up as a zombie?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. That was my idea." Your feeling of well-being begins to evaporate as you think about what has been going on. "It's a long story."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They insist that you change clothes--into thin running shorts and a t-shirt more like a rag--but they let you curl on the sofa as you tell your story. They question you closely, and when you're done they are silent for a very long time. "So you don't know a guy named Aubrey Blackwell?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you say. "Who is he?"<br/>
<br/>
"A professor at the university. Well, that's his public persona. He has darker interests. We were just on our way back from scoping out his house--"<br/>
<br/>
"House of Frankenstein," Joe mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"--when we almost ran over you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know any university professors," you sigh. You are feeling very relaxed, despite the intensity of the interrogation they put your through. "Like I said, it's been me and my friends playing with that--" You pause. "Oh, wait, Carson said something about a university professor."<br/>
<br/>
"Carson," says Frank thoughtfully. "That was one of your friends who ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you say. Though you are relaxed, that doesn't mean you are happy. You feel a heavy twinge as you think about Carson and James. "That's why I put the mask on. It seemed like such a huge coincidence that all my friends were--" Now the twinge is so hard you can't finish.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a coincidence, I'm sure of that," says Frank grimly. "And it's not the <i>Libra,</i> at least not directly. Automobile accidents are a specialty of men like Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
You raise your head. "You mean he's--" Frank nods. "But how? Cutting brake lines?"<br/>
<br/>
"Haven't you ever heard stories about people who get into a car, and some <i>thing</i> gets in with them, or behind them?"<br/>
<br/>
You shiver. "I don't like reading stories like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're <i>in</i> a story like that, Will. Until we take care of Blackwell, you shouldn't be getting inside any vehicles."<br/>
<br/>
"Take care of--? What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"We should call your friend, Caleb, and get him out here," Frank says. "Or pick him up. What's his phone number?" You give it to him, and Joe disappears into another room. "I think you'd better stay here tonight. I don't even want to <i>drive</i> you any place until we know how Blackwell is doing it."<br/>
<br/>
You give him your home number, and he disappears into the next room too. You nestle into the sofa and listen to their indistinct voices rising and falling. You can never quite catch their words, but they don't sound happy. And their expressions are serious when they return a few minutes later. "You're all set up to spend the night with us," Joe says. "But we can't raise your friend. Which is a little odd," he adds, "because your mom said he stopped by your house earlier this evening."<br/>
<br/>
"He's always leaving his phone turned off," you say, but you feel a definite sense of unease settling over you.<br/>
<br/>
"That's probably what it is," Joe says. "We'll go find him at your school tomorrow and bring him over."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to school tomorrow?" you ask in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
Frank smiles. "Someone's trying to kill you. Sounds to me like a legitimate excuse to skip."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They help you into the bedroom, where you change into pajamas and slip into a bed. Frank turns the lights down low and sits in a chair next to you. He talks to you in a very quiet and soothing voice: you're not sure, but you have the impression he is describing a garden. It seems very green and rich and warm, and you can almost feel the sunlight and the soft grass. As you drift off, it is as though he has stopped speaking and begun to sing.<br/>
<br/>
You sleep, long and deeply, and there are no dreams. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The sun is shining brightly when you wake, but you are refreshed and don't linger in the bed. The house, when you explore it, is empty, though there is a note on the table telling you to stay inside. You watch TV.<br/>
<br/>
A little after lunch the front door opens and Frank and Joe come in. They look very grave, and neither speaks when they look at you. Joe quietly asks if you've eaten, and suggests you have some soup when you decline. "What's going on?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," says Frank with a sigh. "You can go home if you like. You'll probably be safe, though you should still avoid driving. We went by your house and looked over your truck. It <i>was</i> sabotaged, but we took care of it."<br/>
<br/>
"How did this guy get to my truck?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"We're not sure," says Frank, "though we have our suspicions. We'd rather not speculate, though. Do you <i>want</i> to go home?"<br/>
<br/>
"You better give him the rest of the news," Joe says quietly. "Let him make an informed decision."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart begins to beat very hard.<br/>
<br/>
"There was another car wreck last night," Frank says. "Rather late. We found out about this morning, which is why we didn't bother going over to Westside to find Caleb." <br/>
<br/>
He doesn't have to say more.<br/>
<br/>
"You can go home," he says. "Or you can help us take care of the guy who's been killing your friends."</span></div></div>


path: 11313112212221111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Story Behind the Book
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Whatever is going on, I don't want to be in the middle of it," you say.<br/>
<br/>
The two boys exchange a glance. "Probably not a bad decision," Frank says. "But we don't want you driving, and we don't particularly want you going to school."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think my parents are going to let me drop out," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Give us a week," Frank says, "and we should have this case wrapped up."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by 'case'?" you ask in bewilderment. "You're talking like--"<br/>
<br/>
"You've trusted us this far," Joe says. "Please trust us a little more. Tomorrow, and until we tell you otherwise, take the bus to school, and stick close to home. As for school--" He falls silent for a moment. "Bring me something that's got your dad's handwriting on it. We'll pick you up in front of Westside as soon as the bus arrives, and cover your absence. Oh, and leave your cell phone with us."<br/>
<br/>
"What if someone tries to call me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to be taking any calls," Frank says in a very emphatic tone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They take you home, and your parents are very solicitous of you, and don't even ask about who Frank and Joe are, to your relief. Your sleep is more troubled than the previous night's, and when you wake you have the strong impression you have dreamed about graveyards, but you're mostly rested. You tell your parents that you don't want to be driving--a decision that they accept completely--and take the school bus. As soon as you dismount you hear Joe calling, and you trot over to their truck, where at Joe's query you hand over a handwritten note you'd found on your dad's desk. He pushes you into the truck, and then leans on the hood, where he studies your dad's note before writing one of his own. He dashes off quickly to the school office.<br/>
<br/>
"Did he just forge a letter from my dad?" you ask Frank.<br/>
<br/>
"Joe doesn't often get a chance to practice his counterfeiting skills," Frank says. "You'll be off for the next week at least, and all calls from the school will go to your phone, which we have." You blink. "And we'll be picking up your homework, so when you go back into the school there shouldn't be any hiccups." That causes you to blink <i>and</i> sigh.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They take you back to their place; Frank goes on to school while Joe remains with you. "You bored?" he asks after feeding you another breakfast. "Wanna play some board games? They can bore you, or I can."<br/>
<br/>
"Could you tell me about yourselves? I guess I trust you after all you've done for me--"<br/>
<br/>
"But we're still strangers," Joe nods. He settles back with a sigh. "Well, you might say we've got a little family business. We treat each other kind of like family, even though none of us are related by <i>blood.</i>" You notice the emphasis on the last word. "Frank and me aren't even related, even though we tell everyone we're brothers. Anyway, the world is full of subterranean caverns and channels full of all kinds of grotty things. We try to keep them from breaking out into the daylight."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean like vampires and--" You're brought up short by his very sober nod of the head. "So you're, like, monster hunters?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we don't <i>hunt</i> them, exactly. Those sorts of things, they're kind of like bears. As long as they stick to their business, we don't go looking for trouble with them. It's when they come down out of the mountains, so to speak, and make themselves nuisances--"<br/>
<br/>
"This Blackwell guy is kind of like a bear?" you ask with more than a touch of incredulity.<br/>
<br/>
"He's a magician. That's a little different. Most magicians are harmless, except to themselves. Typically, they set themselves on fire and no one even notices the ashes. Blackwell has <i>set</i> a fire, a pretty big one, and we're trying to put it out."<br/>
<br/>
"How?"<br/>
<br/>
"How has he set a fire, or-- Oh, but you'll want to know both." Again, he sighs. "In this case, the fire is that book you and Caleb were playing with. It's a major disaster waiting to happen, as you guys found out. He's gotten his hands on it. We have to get it away from him, and since he's shown himself to be smart, ruthless, <i>and</i> capable, we're going to have to do something about him too.<br/>
<br/>
"We're not sure what yet," he adds when you say nothing. "As I say, we have to do a little more investigating." He gives you a penetrating look. "You mind answering a couple of questions for me? It could plug a couple of holes that have us worried." <br/>
<br/>
You shrug, and he continues.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you know any guys at Eastman named Sawyer Harrison or Taylor Mitchell?" You shake your head. "Taylor Mitchell was Sean Mitchell's twin brother."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know Sean very well, and I didn't know he had a twin brother. And what do you mean by 'was'?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean the past tense," Joe says soberly. "He died at the end of August. Car wreck." You shudder. "Yeah. It's the kind of coincidence that's the mark of a hack fiction writer or of something rather sinister. Now, you said you found that book at a used bookstore in September? Did you ever see it or anything like it at your house <i>before</i> that?" You shake your head. "Your dad works at Salopek Aerospace?" You nod. "That's very strange," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"What is?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know yet, so I can't say more. What does your dad do at Salopek?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't really know. Some kind of engineering. And management."<br/>
<br/>
"Does he have any business with the university?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Why are you asking about--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your dad works at Salopek. Sawyer and Taylor also worked there. Sawyer, I forgot to mention, went into a coma the same day that Taylor died."<br/>
<br/>
You feel the blood drain from your face. "Sean and Caleb worked there too," you say. Joe looks at you sharply and asks you how long. "I don't know in Sean's case. Caleb met him there. Caleb started working there about a week after I found the book."<br/>
<br/>
Joe sags against the sofa cushions with a perplexed expression on his face. "How did Caleb come to have a job there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got it for him. Well, my dad." You don't like the way Joe's eyes have frozen. "My dad kept trying to get me to apply for this job out there. I didn't want it, but Caleb did, so I put the two of them together."<br/>
<br/>
"And this was in early September? Your dad again," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Why? What has my dad got to do with this?" you ask, and a feeling of dread spreads through your gut.<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you hard. "It's just really weird how so many people who have been touched by the book are connected to Salopek." He sits up. "Our job--Frank's and mine's--was to retrieve that book before it did any damage. It's very old, and was lost in those subterranean channels until last summer, when it turned up in upstate New York. An old woman had died, and it was among her things. We went to get it. We got there too late, and it had already been shipped off to some of her survivors. But it didn't get to them. Someone intercepted and redirected it. The person who intercepted it was Aubrey Blackwell. Salopek Aerospace was the place he had it redirected to.<br/>
<br/>
"Frank and me got to town and went to Salopek. We found the box it had been in, but it wasn't there anymore. A lot of things that were supposed to be in the box were gone. And then it shows up at that bookstore, where <i>you</i> of all people buy it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why 'me of all people'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because when Blackwell hijacked it, he had it sent to Harris Prescott, care of Salopek Aerospace."<br/>
<br/>
Chills run up and down your spine, and you rear back. "Now, hang on!"<br/>
<br/>
He grabs your knee and clutches it in a reassuring manner. "Calm down. I told you, it's weird, but I don't know what it means, if anything. Blackwell had it sent to your dad, but then there is a gap, and it winds up at that bookstore. Somewhere inside that gap, Sawyer Harrison and Taylor Mitchell, who worked at Salopek, had those accidents. And then <i>after</i> you found it, the book found its way to two <i>more</i> Salopek employees, who then suffered accidents.<br/>
<br/>
"It's like the book is <i>orbiting</i> Salopek, or it's orbiting someone <i>at</i> Salopek, or someone <i>associated</i> with Salopek. And where there are <i>orbits,</i> even in cases like this--maybe <i>especially</i> in cases like these--we're talking about invisible forces, not <i>coincidence.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him for a very long time, loathing the implications of what he has said. "So you're thinking it's my <i>dad.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Not necessarily," he says. "Possibly it's just looped past him while orbiting the actual center of gravity. But he is a data point. Also--" And now he gives your knee a very hard squeeze. "Even if it <i>is</i> orbiting him, that doesn't mean that he is culpable. These things can orbit people who have <i>absolutely no clue</i> that they are being orbited. A lot of times, in these situations, people are swept up by things and forces that they have no knowledge or comprehension of."<br/>
<br/>
He's very quiet for a bit, and then he adds, maybe for you benefit and maybe for his own, "Be very careful of what you bring into the house with you. It may not be <i>alone.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He tries distracting you after that, but he's not very successful. And when Frank takes you home after school, you find yourself lingering near your father's study. He's in it, and he catches you watching him.</span></div></div>


path: 113131122122211112
author_id: seuzz
title: Unearthing Mysteries
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Do you have something you want to talk about, Will," your dad asks, and it is not at all in his usual impatient tone.<br/>
<br/>
You bite your lip and shake your head, and are about to move off, when you are overwhelmed by an impulse to speak: "A lot of my friends were doing stupid things recently," you say. "I guess I just don't want you thinking I was doing stupid things too."<br/>
<br/>
His face turns very grave, and he holds out a hand. You stumble forward, and the two of you embrace. "Son, to be perfectly honest with you," he says as he squeezes you. "You are <i>always</i> doing stupid things. And I don't know how you do it, but you always manage to walk away from them without a scratch." He relaxes his grip enough to look you in the face. "You can't trust to luck, and sometimes I wish you would get hurt, so you'd learn better. Maybe that's the reason I'm so hard on you. The world just does <i>not</i> want to smack you around. So I have to pick up the slack."<br/>
<br/>
You can't help laughing a little, and he laughs too, and you hug him again. And that's all you have to say to each other.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Over the next week you continue to skip school with Frank and Joe's connivance. They take turns skipping so they can look after you, and you get to know them quite well. <br/>
<br/>
Joe is the happy one, the bright one, the one who has to fight to keep a goofy grin off his face. A golden light seems to radiate off him, and his chatter somehow manages to sound both very silly and very wise at the same time. He can't sit still for very long, and in the small back yard the two of you evolve a complicated game of fetch <br/>
(rather than catch), with him playing the part of the dog: Under the rules, you throw the ball, and he retrieves it while attempting to run a series of bases before you can count down to zero. You feel blown just watching him, while his own breathlessness just seems like a prelude to more running.<br/>
<br/>
Frank is much more solid and saturnine, and he has little say. He even puts you on housework and home repairs, though he throws himself into it as well. "Would you look at what that idiot brother of mine did with the croquet ball," he growls on his second day with you, and points to the ceiling, which is disfigured by a cluster of small dents. "We paid a deposit on this place, and we won't get it back if those things aren't patched." He buys some plaster and paint, and acts as a stepladder so you can fix them.<br/>
<br/>
But it's not all work. On your third day with him he drives the two of you out to the Suffolk Wilderness for a picnic lunch, and leads you up and down the trails while filling the air with ardent (and surprisingly interesting) impromptu lectures on the plant life. "It's all starting to die back, because autumn is coming," he says. "But it will come back, which is amazing. And other things are just coming up. Autumn grasses and even winter blossoms. People think everything dies in the winter, and down in the city they try hanging on to it after it should have passed. But they only suppress the smaller, more intimate beauties. People, too, you know, used to have their winter rhythms." His eyes shine. "When the snows came, they would crawl into bed with each other, all in one bed, and sleep for fourteen or sixteen hours. And when they were awake they would talk and sing and fuck." You blink at the raw but unmannered verb; he catches your expression, and smiles. "A good winter fuck. Long and hard and continuous. You bury yourself in the warm, moist, dark places when the world is cold and hard and barren, or you take the thrusting seed, you pull it inside you, to nurture it. Under the snow, under the rot, so it can burgeon in the spring." You try not to let it show, but after that talk of dark places and burgeoning, you keep to your own side of the truck on the way back into town.<br/>
<br/>
You don't hear from any of your schoolmates, since Joe and Frank have kept your phone, but they tell you that you haven't been forgotten. Several people have called to talk: Lisa Yarborough (which delights you even though it doesn't surprise); Yumi Saito and Lin Pol; Kim Walsh; even Geoff Mansfield, which really does bowl you over. Cindy Vredenburg also called. You ask how they have explained your absence from the phone. Joe gets a little embarrassed, and admits that he has been pretending to be you on the phone. "I can do a pretty good imitation of your voice," he says. "And I've been pretty good with them. You're not going to lose any friends," he assures you.<br/>
<br/>
Still, after almost a week of being on ice, you are eager for some kind of return to normality. They can tell, and when they pick you up after church on a Sunday afternoon, they seem quietly pleased with themselves, and tell you that things are going to start moving.<br/>
<br/>
"You won't want to know the details," Frank says as he ushers you into their house. "But we've been doing some digging. Literally." He takes you into the dining room and points to the table. Five blue masks are laying on it.<br/>
<br/>
They say nothing as you pick them up and turn them over one by one: masks inscribed with the names of Carson Ioeger, Caleb Johansson, Sean Mitchell, Cameron Huber-- "My friend Keith was wearing this one," you say as you look up in alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"We know," says Joe. "We visited them. Like you visited Sean." You pale. "It wasn't as hard for us as it was for you. Frank is good with graveyards."<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me about Keith," you say, your heart hammering. You were hoping that the mask would--<br/>
<br/>
Frank shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Will. Your friend was under that mask." His eyes twist up, and you're surprised to see that the very hard Frank seems close to tears. "He's not coming back."<br/>
<br/>
"What about the others?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"They were like Sean," Joe says. "Cold and white and hard."<br/>
<br/>
"Keith was himself," Frank says. "He was in very good shape. The mask protected him from the physical impact of the crash. But--" He struggles for a word. "But <i>mortality</i> penetrates them."<br/>
<br/>
You look at the masks. They are all identical, except for the names and the images they contain. "So why wasn't he changed?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"We'd have to recover and study the <i>Libra</i> to answer that," Joe says. "But it suggests to me that they were ... transformed ... before the masks went on."<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell," you mutter. They nod.<br/>
<br/>
You turn over the last mask, and rear back. "Taylor Mitchell?" you say, looking up in surprise. You look at the other masks. "And where's James's?"<br/>
<br/>
"His coffin was empty," Frank says. "And the grave had obviously been disturbed. So had Sean's."<br/>
<br/>
"I dug up Sean's grave," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but you left that statute thing inside it," Joe says. "We checked it again, while we were at Taylor's. Sean's coffin is empty now as well. Blackwell is probably reclaiming them. We got to Caleb and Carson before he did. Or maybe he only wanted two."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Will," Frank sighs, and sits down at the table. He gently runs a finger along the edge of Caleb's mask. "We don't want to speculate."<br/>
<br/>
You look at Taylor's mask. "So, was Taylor also transformed?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," Joe says, and leans against the refrigerator. "That's another mystery. There was someone under it, the way Keith was, but it wasn't Taylor Mitchell. We <i>think</i> it was Scott Bickelmeier."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Bickelmeier?</i> The football player?" You look wildly between them. "But he's--!"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," Joe says. "As far as the world knows, he is still very much alive."<br/>
<br/>
"But how?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll get the yearbook," Frank says, and disappears toward the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
"Scott was another guy who worked at Salopek," Joe explains. "Him and Sawyer Harrison and Taylor Mitchell. All friends. They got fired the same day, not long before those accidents."<br/>
<br/>
"Then the Scott Bickelmeier who is walking around at Westside is-- Is someone in a mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know," Joe says. "But now we know we need to look in his direction." He chews on his thumbnail. "In fact, he's on his way over right now."<br/>
<br/>
Silence falls across the table. When Frank appears, it is with a yearbook and a grim confirmation: It definitely was Scott Bickelmeier under Taylor Mitchell's face and occupying his grave.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The doorbell rings twenty minutes later. You start to follow them back out into the living room, but Joe suggests you hang back. "It'll happen quickly," he says. "You don't need to watch." You don't know what he means, and you sit fretfully at the table, jogging your leg up and down. Voices waft from the other room after the front door opens. And then they fall silent after the door closes. "Will!" Joe calls. Dreading you know not what, you swallow the lump in your throat and answer the summons.<br/>
<br/>
Perhaps the sight that greets you shouldn't be a surprise. Joe is holding a mask in his hand. Frank is standing with his hands on his hips, lips pursed. And standing in the foyer is another statue. This one looks just like Sean, but it is surely his brother.<br/>
<br/>
"Another dead end," sighs Frank.<br/>
<br/>
Joe hands you the mask, and it feels hot in your hand. The other masks are of corpses only. But this one is alive. Surely it contains answers.</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221222111122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Dead Return
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"If you want to know what's going on," you say, "why don't one of you just put this mask on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Aside from the privacy issues," Frank says, "we will probably be putting it back on this thing." He taps the golem. "If we do, we might not want it 'remembering' anything that happened while the mask was on one of us."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would you put the mask back on it," you ask, startled.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you really want Scott Bickelmeier disappearing along with Keith?" Frank asks quietly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mm. That's a point.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Frank and Joe talk to each other a little longer, and then they ask you to bring Scott's mask back in. You've no interest in seeing the thing revive, let alone interacting with it, so you hide in the bedroom. About thirty minutes later, after it has left, Frank and Joe come and find you.<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to hit Blackwell's house tonight," Frank says, "and we're not going to be gentle. We want to stop him before he digs up any more graves."<br/>
<br/>
"The problem," Joe says, "is that his house is a bit of a fortress. Even in the daytime it is very hard to go in and get him. At night it is practically impossible. We're going to have to <i>trick</i> him into leaving his house."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you get him when he goes up to the university?"<br/>
<br/>
"He can make duplicates of people," Frank says. "Why wouldn't he send a duplicate of himself out?"<br/>
<br/>
"We've spent the week trying to come up with ideas," says Joe. "Basically, the only one we've had is to <i>prank</i> Blackwell out into the open." He smiles in a way that is slightly unpleasant. "But it's a prank that-- Well, we don't want to do it without your permission."<br/>
<br/>
"Why, what is it?" you warily ask.<br/>
<br/>
Frank explains it. It is the sickest thing you have ever heard in your life. You reject it out of hand. They accede, and say they'll return to the drawing board.<br/>
<br/>
But your opinion gradually shifts as you ponder their idea. After an hour, you grudgingly admit it is a good one, and that it even has poetic merit. After two hours, you decide it's actually a very good idea. After three:<br/>
<br/>
"Did you come up with another plan?" you ask when you find them in the dining room, still pondering those masks. Frank shakes his head without looking up at you. "Okay, I've changed my mind. You can do that plan, on <i>one</i> condition." Now it's their turn to look up at you warily. "I go with you."<br/>
<br/>
"We were planning on you being there," Frank says. "Waiting outside so--"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you say. "On condition that one of <i>you</i> waits outside, and that <i>I</i> go in."<br/>
<br/>
Frank stares at you. Joe bursts out laughing. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The ground falls away from you, and then you are standing. A plastic bag blows past, but you don't feel the wind. You feel like you have cotton in your ears, so all the night sounds are muffled. You feel dead.<br/>
<br/>
Of course you do.<br/>
<br/>
Joe is already on his feet, but it's not Joe. It's Sean Mitchell. Under the dark sky with its half moon you can't make him out clearly, but you don't really want to. He makes a soft, guttural sound.<br/>
<br/>
"You guys don't look as ghastly as you might," Frank says as he regards the two of you. "But I guess we're going for psychological horror." He shifts on his feet. "This better work, or I'm gonna be in a lot of trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Brrrnnnnnzzz,</i>" Joe says, and lunges at Frank. The latter flinches a little, but lets his partner bat at his skull. Joe grabs him about the brow and taps at it. He turns away with a disgusted "<i>Nnnnggghhzzz</i>." You wonder if your own face betrays the disgust you feel at Joe's bit of tasteless fun.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, let's get this over with," Frank says. "I'll yell if that <i>thing</i> looks like it's going to be interested in you. It shouldn't, but if I yell at you guys, you get back out here as fast as you can."<br/>
<br/>
Joe mutters again and goes to the gate. You follow.<br/>
<br/>
It's a long trek up the sidewalk, for you can't move fast, and the world seems to sway. Joe is also uncertain on his feet. You hope you don't fall over.<br/>
<br/>
Joe comes to the front steps, and stops. Then he clutches at you and leads you over to the corner of the house. The lower story sticks out here, and he points to a door on a stoop.  "<i>Guuuunnndddrrrrhh,</i>" he says. You grunt back, and shamble over to the door while he goes back around front. You mount the steps to the door one at a time. At the top, you can make out your own reflection dimly in the glass. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Caleb.</i> <br/>
<br/>
It seemed like the only appropriate choice for you.<br/>
<br/>
You fumble at the knob, but your grip feels very weak, and it is locked, besides. You feel momentarily baulked, then remember what you are supposed to be. Also, it won't hurt. You put your fist through a window pane and twist at the lock. The door falls open.<br/>
<br/>
"<i> Jjjjuuuhhhhh!</i>" you call, but there is no answer. You move forward and bounce off an obstacle. You brush it with your hands, and something falls to the floor with a loud clatter. You shift around, and moonlight suddenly pours through a window. You're in a kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Jjjjuuuhhhhh!</i>" you call again. You move through a doorway into a dining room. There's a china cabinet with a glass door. You're supposed to be attracting Blackwell's attention, so you smash it open and pull its contents out to the floor. The cabinet itself rocks, but you've not the strength to tip it over.<br/>
<br/>
Through another doorway, and you're in a hall. There is no sign of Joe. You go past the foot of a staircase and into a foyer. The front door is still closed, but now that you're close you can hear pounding on it. You grab at the lock and twist. It falls back, and Joe falls in.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Blllllgggkhhuuhlll</i>," Joe cries: a raw sound erupting from a dead throat. "<i>Blllllgggkhhuuhlll</i>!"<br/>
<br/>
The stairs. They are broad, and your legs move slowly as you mount them. You'd be panting at their top if you had working lungs. Instead, you and Joe totter, then set off down a hallway.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Blllllgggkhhuuhlll</i>," Joe calls, and pounds on a door. "<i>Gnnngggkkkhhh!</i>," you echo, and pound on another. You grapple at a knob and fall through the doorway. It's an empty bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
You move methodically down one side of the hallway and up the other while Joe concentrates on a particular door. It appears to be locked. He is throwing his shoulder against it when you return to him. You join him. <i>Thud-crunch. Thud-squunch. Thud-smunch.</i> You're probably liquefying your shoulder, but you feel nothing.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, the door gives way, and you fall inside. There's a large bed, and a desk and a wardrobe. Light comes faintly through the window next to the latter. Beside it is a dark figure. The lights suddenly blaze on.<br/>
<br/>
So that's Aubrey Blackwell: A fat, balding man with a moustache and goatee. His eyes bulge, and he gasps sharply at the sight of Sean Mitchell and Caleb Johansson as they raise their eyes to meet his.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Blllllgggkhhuuhlll</i>!" Joe snarls. He raises his arms and lunges at the professor.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell screams: an ugly, liquid, burbling sound. He ducks and falls to the ground, and scuttles past Joe's hands. You reach for him, and fall onto him. But he is very big, and Caleb was very scrawny, and you just roll off him. Joe trips over you as he comes around, and goes down in a heap himself.<br/>
<br/>
Your right arm hangs limply, and your left leg doesn't seem to want to work, but you make your feet again and go out the door after the retreating magician. Footfalls sound on the stairs. You hurry, and trip at the top of the stairs, and tumble down to the landing. You crawl uncertainly along, gradually regaining your footing and make the rest of the descent. In the hallway, you glimpse Blackwell disappearing out the front door.<br/>
<br/>
You don't wait for Joe, and pursue him. "For God's sake, let me out!" a voice cries. "Mercy, I cry! Mercy!" He's at the front gate, shaking it fruitlessly. You're not halfway down the walk when he whips around with another scream, and runs off again, edging along the wall. You give slow chase, but he disappears into the gloom. A few seconds later there is another cry, which cuts off abruptly.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott!" That's Frank. "Prescott, get out of there! Over here!" Minding his earlier warning, you return to the gate. He holds it open for you, and you're out. A few minutes later Joe joins you. Before he's through, though, a terrible scream goes up from the side of the house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"A bad end to bad rubbish," Joe says. His hair is still wet; he'd insisted on showering three times. You're also still damp.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not the ending I wanted," Frank says. "I wasn't counting on that <i>thing</i> getting control of the gate." He looks haunted. "<i>It</i> blocked him, and then it got him. It was very powerful by that point. I couldn't fight it."<br/>
<br/>
"Not your fault, Frank," Joe says brusquely. "It wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be, either." He glances at you. He doesn't have to ask your opinion; your face probably speaks volumes about the horror you feel.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all," you ask quietly. "Can I go home now?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you want," Frank says quietly. "We're going to be leaving town in a few days, go back to make our report. Joe and I have been talking, though." He seems to be speaking very carefully. "If you want to go with us, as a way of getting some closure on all this, you can."</span></div></div>


path: 113131122122212
author_id: seuzz
title: Of Accidents, Coincidences, and Enemy Action
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're in too much of a daze to do more than take it in as a brute fact: Inside of ten days, all your friends who had known about the masks--except for you and Caleb--have suffered fatal accidents. You curl into a fetal position after Lisa has hung up. <br/>
<br/>
It's that book. It has to be the book. There is no other connecting thread.  And of course, it's a magic book. It's the kind of book that lets you do awful things-- You groan as you recall the kinds of things that you and Caleb were talking about doing: replacing people, becoming them, stealing their lives, reshaping them to your own purposes. There have to be demons and things lurking around that book, executing the spells for its users; and naturally those things would bite you back.<br/>
<br/>
What did Caleb say when he first introduced you to the masks? Something about how the book didn't like people unless he made an "impression" of you. But wait, that was just a story, wasn't it, an excuse to get a copy of you before telling you about the masks. So this whole thing began badly for you, with a lie. A small lie, maybe, but it still seems like an omen in retrospect. Your stomach, already unsettled, heaves. <i>Bad beginnings make for bad endings</i>: that's another one of your dad's pet phrases. <br/>
<br/>
You don't call Caleb, but you don't have to: after numbing minutes or hours have passed, he calls you. "I guess you heard," he says quietly. You don't reply. "Can we get together to talk?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not driving anywhere," you say. You'd started to say it as a grim jest, but before you've got the statement fully out it has turned into a serious promise. Your chest is very tight.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to," he says. "I'll come over there."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd rather <i>you</i> didn't drive either."<br/>
<br/>
"I have to drive anyway, if I'm going to school tomorrow," he says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He shows up about twenty minutes later, and his face is pale in a way that makes the small patch of zits on his upper cheek stand out lividly. "I know what you're thinking," he says. "But c'mon. It's just coincidence."<br/>
<br/>
You're laying on your bed, on your side, and you're too weak to stretch your arms out to throttle him, however much you'd like to. "James and Carson and Keith and Sean," you say in a fierce whisper. "That can't be coincidence."<br/>
<br/>
"Sean was always reckless behind a wheel," Caleb says. "I <i>know,</i> because <i>I</i> was reckless when I was behind his wheel."<br/>
<br/>
"And James and Carson?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's where the coincidence comes in."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Those</i> two? Together?"<br/>
<br/>
"It has to be."<br/>
<br/>
"It has to be the <i>book.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Then what do you want me to do?" he says, throwing up his hands. "I already told you I got rid of it."<br/>
<br/>
"When?" You sit up with a frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Right after what happened to Cameron and Sean." He licks his lips. "Look, I know what I said and what I'm saying now, but yeah, I freaked out. I guess I <i>am</i> freaked out. Better safe than sorry, even if I think it is just a--"<br/>
<br/>
"And stop calling him 'Cameron'. It was Keith." You roll over with a groan. "If I hadn't given him Cameron's mask-- Because I felt <i>sorry</i> for him after what Javits was doing to him--"<br/>
<br/>
"What <i>was</i> Javits doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"The usual. That time it was putting Tilley's underwear in the tree out front." You wave your hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. Point is--"<br/>
<br/>
"Point is, you were being his friend, and besides, I told you to talk to him. I'll take the blame for it."<br/>
<br/>
"But if I hadn't switched with him, it wouldn't have been <i>him</i> in that accident."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it would have been you. You're not making me feel better."<br/>
<br/>
You resist the urge to say "Good." You take a few steps back in the conversation. "And where's Cameron?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks at you carefully. "Um ..."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean the <i>real</i> Cameron. I'm not losing my grip enough to ask about the fake. You know, we could still get some shovels and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't go there, either physically or conceptually. Let him rest in peace."<br/>
<br/>
"So where's the real Cameron?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've got him someplace."<br/>
<br/>
"But where?" Your head hurts too much to try figuring it out yourself. "He's got family too. We could let him out--"<br/>
<br/>
"And how do we explain his return? There was a big funeral there, too."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't <i>have</i> to explain it," you say. "Just turn him loose, naked, some place. Jesus, let it be a mystery."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe he's safest where he is anyway. Maybe the bad things are just happening to people who are out in the open."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean? 'Out in the open'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, people who aren't hidden away. You know, people like you and me and--" He swallows. "The other guys. People who weren't--" Again, he swallows. "Who weren't victims of what we were doing."<br/>
<br/>
Your brow knits. "Was Sean out in the open?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's mouth twists. "No. He was a victim too," he says quietly. "Well, so much for <i>that</i> hypothesis."<br/>
<br/>
"So where is Camer--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, stop it," he cries. "It's gotta be a coincidence."<br/>
<br/>
"Stop saying that!" You finally rouse yourself enough to yell. "Once is accident, twice is coincidence, <i>four fucking times</i> is enemy ac--!" You gasp, hard. "Maybe it is," you say dumbly. "Maybe it <i>is</i> enemy action!"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop harping on the book."<br/>
<br/>
"No! Enemy action!" You turn on him with staring eyes. "Did you hide Cameron at Eastman?" He shakes his head sharply. "Do you have anything going on at Eastman, any secret plans you didn't tell me or anyone about?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
You grab the front of his shirt. "Don't fuck with me, dude, this is important! Is there any reason some guys at Eastman would be looking at and playing with masks like what <i>we</i> had?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not that I know of," he says, and his voice and look are suddenly very sharp.<br/>
<br/>
You fall back on the bed, thinking furiously. "A week or so ago-- The same day as Sean and Cameron's car wreck, in fact--" You struggle to get the words out as you describe what you saw at the bakery: two Eastman students with a box and a mask. "They were at Sean's funeral, too. I saw them but forgot about them till today. I went by the cemetery--" You ignore his cocked eyebrow. "They were at Sean's grave, with Scott. Scott was talking weird, too, after they left." Caleb stares at you intently, and asks you to describe them. The best you can manage is general terms: biggish, built like jocks, one dark-haired and one blonde. "I think their names are Frank and Joe."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb pulls at his lip thoughtfully. "Could you recognize them again?" he asks. You nod. "Tomorrow," he says slowly. "Let's meet for lunch over at Munson's. You go ahead, separately, go into Eastman's office and see if you can find out who they are. Get with them and invite them over. At the very least, I wanna see these guys. But I'd rather talk with them, find out what they know."<br/>
<br/>
"But if they're behind it all, somehow--"<br/>
<br/>
"Then we'll know who's behind it. But stop being so gloomy. Maybe they'll know how to fix it." He punches you lightly in the shoulder. "I feel better just having a lead to chase. Besides--" He smiles and leans down to whisper in your ear. His words are indistinct, though, and you just brush him away with a frown.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your promise to give up driving notwithstanding, you do drive yourself to school, going well below the speed limit, to the anger of all the other drivers, who honk at you and pass angrily. After second period you skip out, and with equal deliberation drive over to Eastman. In the main office you inquire after some students named "Joe" and "Frank," and describe them. "Sounds like the Durras boys," the secretary smiles, and you accept her offer to call one out of class.<br/>
<br/>
It's the blonde one--Joe--who appears, and you notice his arm is now in a sling. Something seems to click in his eyes when he sees you, and he smiles as he holds out his hand and murmurs an introduction. Haltingly, you tell about seeing him and the other in the bakery with the mask (a recollection that to your discomfort doesn't faze him), and ask if he'd meet with you for lunch to talk about "masks." His eyes light up hungrily, and he offers to talk with you about them now, but you demur. "I've got a friend who wants to talk too," you say. He laughs: "The more the merrier."<br/>
<br/>
Forty minutes later, you're waiting on the corner to cross the street when you see Joe and Frank emerge from the school. Joe waves cheerily at you with his good arm. More mutedly, you wave back. <br/>
<br/>
Then: "Hey Will!" a voice calls from across the street. You turn to see Caleb in front of the strip center. He shouts something else, and beckons. You are dimly surprised to find your feet wobbling beneath you. The next thing you know you've stepped into the street. Caleb grins, and he's briefly obscured by the fiery glint of sunlight off a stream of hurtling automobiles. He beckons again.<br/>
<br/>
A stream of automobiles? In the street you're currently crossing ...?<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott! Don't be a fucking--!" Joe's shout is drowned out by the blast of a truck horn. You've barely time to turn and register the sight of its hurtling grey grill before it hits you.</span></div></div>


path: 1132
author_id: seuzz
title: The Man in the Wheelchair
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Andrew is pleased to see you, and quickly pulls his wheelchair out of the way to let you in. "S'up, little dude?" he asks when you're settled in his living room.<br/>
<br/>
His eyebrows shoot up with vague curiosity when you show him the book. He examines it while you tell him of your adventures with it, and becomes highly amused the further into your story you get. "Dude, Halloween's not for another month," he says when you're done. "And this ain't scary."<br/>
<br/>
"You try turning the rest of the pages in the book," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, they don't turn. It's a fake."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Buy it off me?"<br/>
Andrew seems pleased to see you when he answers the door, and quickly wheels himself back out of the way to let you in. "S'up, little dude?" he asks when you're settled in his living room.<br/>
<br/>
It's a nice place he's got, with cool, white walls and spare, functional furniture. The couch he leads you too is padded black leather in a frame of chrome tubes. The floor is a dark hardwood, and vertical slats of sunlight gild the bare wall opposite the front window, whose steely Venetian blinds are only half open. A Roomba is parked in the corner.<br/>
<br/>
Most of the house is controlled automatically or remotely, and what he cannot clean or maintain himself from his laptop or chair is handled twice a week by a maid service.<br/>
<br/>
His eyebrows shoot up when you show him the book, and he examines it while you tell him of your adventures with it, but he only becomes amused. "Dude," he says, "Halloween's not for another month. And this ain't scary."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not trying to be scary. But <i>you</i> try turning the rest of the pages in the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, they don't turn. It's a fake."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. So buy it off me?"<br/>
<br/>
He guffaws. "I'm not gonna give you two hundred bucks for a worthless book!"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want two hundred bucks. I'll take anything for it."<br/>
<br/>
Andrew laughs again. "It really has you freaked out, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't believe me? What I told you about it? The writing that didn't show up until I got home with it or the way the page turned after"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I believe you didn't take a close look at it before you bought it," he says. "I believe you didn't notice that writing, or that that page was about to come unstuck all by itself."<br/>
<br/>
"So how come the rest are stuck together?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because it's a fake. It's a prop or a bookend or something." He makes it give it back to you.<br/>
<br/>
"No way, man," you say. "I don't want it. It's asking for blood. What kind of prop—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>I</i> don't want it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, man! Just give me two bucks for it, so I'm whole."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "No! You want to get rid of it that bad, you give <i>me</i> two bucks!"<br/>
<br/>
"What? No!"<br/>
<br/>
His grin sharpens. "Then I guess you don't want to get rid of it that bad!"<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11321
author_id: seuzz
title: The Double-Dog Dare
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You growl in the back of your throat, but surrender. "Fine," you tell Andrew. "I'll be back in a minute with—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, no no no!" he cries out. "I'm not going to take your money!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, we made a deal," you insist. "You wanted two bucks to take it off my hands—"<br/>
<br/>
"I was joking!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, a deal is a deal. I'll be right back." You dash from the house before Andrew can stop you.<br/>
<br/>
But you get another idea after you're home, upstairs, digging in your chest of drawers for your cash stash.<br/>
<br/>
"Make you another deal," you tell Andrew when you're back at his house. He smiles at you from his wheelchair, but he doesn't look very amused. "You won't take my money for the book." Andrew shakes his head. "Will you take my money to something else?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Give it what it's asking for. Give it some blood."<br/>
<br/>
The smile falls off his face. "Dude!"<br/>
<br/>
"Ten bucks." You show him the bill. "Ten bucks to give it your blood. I'm daring you. I'm <i>double-dog</i> daring you! Ten bucks says you don't give it any of your blood."<br/>
<br/>
Andrew stares at you, then rolls his eyes and spins around and scoots for the kitchen. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he grumbles. "I haven't been double-dog dared since grade school."<br/>
<br/>
You smirk at the back of his head as you follow. You're not quite sure how you came up with the idea, or why you're daring him this way. Probably it's just because he was irritating you.<br/>
<br/>
In the kitchen, Andrew pulls open a drawer and takes out a box cutter. He sets the book on the counter, flips through it until he finds the sigil, and wedges the pages open with his elbow. With a quick, dirty glance at you, he puts the edge of the box cutter blade to his thumb.<br/>
<br/>
He pauses. "What if I gave you twenty bucks to do this yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not me. I hate the sight of blood. Especially my own."<br/>
<br/>
"You're a fucking little brat," Andrew mutters, and draws the blade across the bottom of his thumb. He grimaces hard, draws it again, then quickly presses his thumb to the book. "Hand me a paper towel, will you?" he asks. Then he says, "There's some Hibiclens in the hall bathroom. Can you bring me it and some bandaids?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa! You cut yourself that bad?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just bring me some!" he snaps. "Better safe than—" The rest dies in a grumble.<br/>
<br/>
You do as he asks, and it leaves you feeling guilty for making that dare. <i>You take things too far, Will,</i> your friend Caleb has told you, and you grimace to yourself as you search through the bathroom medicine cabinet. You do find a bottle labeled "Hibiclens," but you have to dig through a small linen closet before you find a metal tin that has bandaids in it. Your head is hanging when you troop back to the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
Andrew is hunched in his chair, face bent to his lap, when you return, and he looks up with a start when you come in. He gruffly thanks you, and but you hold your tongue as he squirts he ointment on his thumb and binds a bandaid around it.<br/>
<br/>
The book, you notice, is open in his lap. "So what are you gonna do with the thing now?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" He slaps it shut. "Oh, put it in a box for the next time I have a garage sale. Can I have my ten dollars now?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry I double-dogged dared you," you say as you hand the bill over.<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's my own fault. I thought I was too mature for that shit." He turns the bill over thoughtfully between his fingers. "If I gave you another ten, would you run down to McDonald's for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." His request relieves you, for it will make you feel better if you can run him an errand to make it up to him. "What do you want me to get for you?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You talk to your dad about that job at his company?"<br/>
<br/>
It's the next morning—Friday—just before first period, and Caleb Johansson, your best friend since third grade, has materialized at your locker. He peers at you with that jutting-chin stare he uses when he thinks someone is screwing him over.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll ask him this weekend."<br/>
<br/>
"How about you ask him tonight, then give me a call?"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't wait till this weekend?"<br/>
<br/>
"You sure you're not angling for the job yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
So that's why he's got his chin out. "I told you I don't want it," you retort, "and I don't know why you do either. It'll just be file work. If you're lucky."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a foot in the door, and I wanna make some contacts. A job at Salopek is, like, a major in."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt. You've never paid much attention to your dad's company, which is some kind of aerospace contractor. But Caleb is deeply into science and engineering; he's the kind of kid who had motorized Lego sets when he was only nine.<br/>
<br/>
Then a thought strikes you. "Oh, hey, what about a job at—? You know my next-door neighbor, Andrew?"<br/>
<br/>
"Which one's he?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's a computer programmer."<br/>
<br/>
"The guy in the wheelchair? Oh yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what about a job at his work?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's eyebrows twitch. "Are they hiring? Where's he work?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't remember, but if I talked to him—"<br/>
<br/>
"You can talk to your dad."<br/>
<br/>
"But I can talk to Andrew, too."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever. How about you talk to both of them?<br/>
<br/>
You're about to make a reply, but Caleb sucks in a sharp breath and turns away. "Molester at your six," he mumbles. Smoothly, you drop to the floor and pretend to fiddle with the locker under yours.<br/>
<br/>
As you'd hoped, Lester Pozniak, soccer goalie and bully, passes without stopping.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You text Andrew between classes, asking if you can stop by after school with a friend to talk about the place Andrew works. He says he's happy to meet you and Caleb, but he also asks you to run some errands for him. <i>You'll probably need your dad's credit card,</i> he warns you, <i>but I'll have cash for you afterward.</i> Caleb isn't enthusiastic, but he says he'll go with you, both to meet Andrew and to do the errands for you.<br/>
<br/>
It's a weird list of items that Andrew asks you to pick up, and Caleb quizzes you on what it could all be for, but you're as baffled as he is. But, given that you have to make a stop at a greenhouse/nursery, you hazard that it's something to do with the garden Andrew keeps out back. "Dude in a wheelchair keeps a garden?" Caleb asks. You retort, "If he wants this kind of shit, I guess he does."<br/>
<br/>
It takes longer to make it around town than you would have wanted, but when you text Andrew to say you'll be late, he tells you to pick up some supper for yourself and Caleb and to add it to his bill, so that cheers you. You do have to lay out more than a hundred dollars (which goes on the credit card you borrowed from your Mom), and maybe it's a good thing Caleb did come with you, because he's the one who makes sure you collect and keep all the receipts.<br/>
<br/>
Andrew looks tired and a little drawn when you get to his house, but he beams when he lets you in, and tells you to lay all the bags out on the dining room table. He gives Caleb a hearty handshake, and asks him to wait in the living room while he goes to get the cash to reimburse you. On his way out of the room, he turns, and asks you to follow. There's something odd in his manner, and his voice is strained.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks for picking that stuff up for me," he says as he leads you into a work room that contains at least three computers and four monitors, one of them the size of your truck's windshield. "That's a real big help. Your parents okay with you putting it on their credit card?"<br/>
<br/>
"My mom was okay with it." You're sure your dad would be too. He likes Andrew, and has run lots of errands for him in the past, and helped him work on his car.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, here's your money," he says as he opens a drawer in a desk and takes out an envelope with the Bank of America logo splayed across the front. He counts out ten twenties. "Keep the change for yourself," he adds as he presses the wad of receipts into your hand. "And one more thing—"<br/>
<br/>
He glances uneasily toward the door, and his expression is haggard when looks back up at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I was looking at that book you gave me last night. You're right, it's pretty screwy. Another one of the pages in it turned loose."<br/>
<br/>
The hairs on the back of your neck start to rise.<br/>
<br/>
"The stuff you bought me today, it's for an experiment. The book—" He licks his lips. "It's got, like, recipes in it, and I'm really curious to see what they do. You're the one who found the book. You wanna stick around, or come over this weekend, and work on it with me?"<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113211
author_id: seuzz
title: Friday Night Follies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You sold Andrew the book in order to get it out of your life, but you feel your nose—and your spine—almost your entire body—quivering with curiosity. <i>The thing looked like a book of magic,</i> you think. <i>Could it really turn out to be one?</i><br/>
<br/>
So despite your earlier trepidations, you nod at Andrew's suggestion.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing," you tell him. "Later tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Let's make it tomorrow. We'll have all day, and we can do it in the daylight."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, that'll work. So, you think— Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Let's go talk to your friend." Andrew pushes himself forward, and you jump back before he can run over your toe with his wheelchair.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You run Andrew's money back over to your house, and find your family eating dinner. (You had texted your mom to say that you and Caleb would be getting something to eat on Andrew's dime.) You give your dad the receipts and Andrew's envelope of cash; he tells you to wait while he adds the amount up and makes change for Andrew. That leaves you loitering by the dinner table with your mom and little brother.<br/>
<br/>
"Umeko stopped by," Robert tells you. There's a light jeer in his tone. "You missed her."<br/>
<br/>
You affect a shrug. Umeko is your cousin, a Japanese orphan adopted by your Uncle Scott and Aunt Mary. She's in college, and you and Robert each have an ill-disguised crush on her.<br/>
<br/>
"She and Robert are going to see a movie tomorrow," your mother says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, which one?" Now you're feeling stung.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Rat Race,</i>" Robert says. His expression now is undeniably smug.<br/>
<br/>
You feel your jaw clench. Almost you are tempted to horn in and say you'll go too. But you've got that project with Andrew. So: "That's a kid's movie," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Umeko's not a kid," says Robert, "and I'm not either, and we're going!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, have fun."<br/>
<br/>
Your dad returns before Robert can retort to your retort. "Oh, I told Andrew I'd help him with some stuff tomorrow," you tell him as you take the change. "If that's okay."<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine with me." He settles back down to his dinner. "What's he working on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Something with his garden, I think," you improvise.<br/>
<br/>
"Andrew's putting in a garden?" your mother exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"I ... don't know. I just know he had me go by a greenhouse to pick some stuff up."<br/>
<br/>
"I wonder what he'll be putting in." Your mother looks <i>very</i> intrigued.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb is ready to go by the time you're back at Andrew's. It's Friday night, and once you're in your truck he asks if you want to go do something. "We could pick up Tilley," he suggests. Keith Tilley is another good friend of yours—you and he and Caleb make a kind of "Three Musketeers of Loserdom" club.<br/>
<br/>
You grunt, for you're preoccupied with thoughts of Robert and Umeko, and the job to do with Andrew tomorrow. When you don't answer, Caleb pulls out his phone and says he'll see what Keith is up to.<br/>
<br/>
The upshot is that you wind up picking up Keith at his place. "Wassup, hoes?" he drawls as he crawls into the truck with you and Caleb. Though is white and scrawny, for some unfathomable reason often tries to talk like he's ghetto, and it always comes out wrong and embarrassing. "Wanna try go scoring with some <i>chicas?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Well, that would be an idea. But you and your friends being who and what you are, your trio wind up at the miniature golf course by the mall.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, it's not <i>that</i> much of a comedown from what Keith suggested. The Monte Viso Minigolf and Go-Kart complex has kind of a sketchy reputation. At least, it had a sketchy reputation when you were in elementary and middle school. It was the kind of place that your Sunday School teachers cautioned you against, because bad kids—the kind who smoked and drank beer and necked—hung out. So you grew up with visions of muscle-shirted thugs guzzling cans of Miller Lite and leering at skanky girls in skimpy shorts and halter tops, swapping cigarettes and doobies and giving each other giant hickies. It was all very enticing, and made Monte Viso a very cool-sounding and exciting place to hang out, which was the very opposite of what the church ladies were trying to do, and right up until the day you got your driver's license you anticipated having the freedom to sneak out to there to ogle those girls in their skimpy clothes and hang out with the cool guys who were trying to score with them.<br/>
<br/>
Then, the first time you got out there, you discovered that it was full of high school teenagers who looked and dressed and acted just like you.<br/>
<br/>
And they all looked mildly miffed and disappointed, just the way you felt.<br/>
<br/>
Take the pack of kids who are at the eighth and ninth holes when you and your friends stroll out to the first. They look a lot like the kind of kids you imagined hung out here when you were in middle school. Four guys with sloppy, tangled hair, in sloppy shorts or dirty jeans, and a dozen girls in hip-hugging shorts and halter tops. One of the guys wears a white t-shirt that reads "I Hate My Parents and I Do Drugs." It looks like it was hand-written with a permanent marker. <br/>
<br/>
They would hard core if they also didn't look like and act like sophomores.<br/>
<br/>
You and Keith and Caleb try to ignore the jeers and the curses and the loud talk about <i>pussy</i> this and <i>dickface</i> that. Not that you and your friends are prudish. You all talk like that too. But it sounds so much worse coming from someone else, and so loudly. There's a middle-aged couple, fat and casually dressed, down near the sixteenth hole, and you can't help noticing how uncomfortable they look.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually your group and the other kids converge when you're at the fourth hole and they make the turn at the eleventh. Up to this point it's been easy to pretend they're not there, but now it's very hard to ignore them, especially when you hear one of them jeer loudly to another about "those three dateless fucks."<br/>
<br/>
You're lining up a shot, and after you make it—banking the ball off the side but missing the hole by a good three inches—you look up to see Keith giving you a very steady look. His face is reddening. Then the same voice calls out, loudly, "Yeah, I'm talkin' about <i>you</i> guys." You look over.<br/>
<br/>
The speaker has a hard, ugly face with strong bones and a "come fuck with me stare" under a ragged bowl cut. His t-shirt is tight enough that you can make out the well-shaped pecs beneath, and veins stands out in each bicep. Instantly, he puts you in mind of some of the behind-the-school assholes you do your best to avoid at Westside: Joshua Call, David Kirkham, Brophy Maddox, Joe Thomason, Tanner Evans ... It's a depressingly long list.<br/>
<br/>
Two girls, skinny and pink, loiter next to him, and smirk at you. The rest of the girls are also eyeing you, though not with the same contempt. The other guys—except for "I Hate My Parents", who just looks disgusted with you—exchange sly, knowing grins.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know what to say, and neither do Caleb or Keith, obviously. You're stuck in an awkward silence until one of the skinny girls says, "You guys got any weed? I'll give you a blow job for some weed." Her grin is sallow, nasty.<br/>
<br/>
"She will, too," hoots one of the guys. "Dude," one of his friends asks him, "so how come she's never blown you?" That sets off lots of giggles and a little fistfight.<br/>
<br/>
But "Come Fuck With Me" keeps glowering at you. "You guys dickless or s'methin'?" he demands. He grabs one of the skinny girls by the waist and pulls her close. She giggles. <br/>
<br/>
Caleb is looking at you when he says, "I'd have to fumigate anything you touch," but "Come Fuck With Me" hears it. "Wha'd you say, cocksucker?" he calls. He drops his hand from the girl and strides halfway to you. "You wanna say that to my face?"<br/>
<br/>
It looks like a really bad moment, but "Come Fuck With Me" falters at the sight of something behind you, and with a black look steps back. "You just keeping fucking each other," he mutters as he rejoins his group. "Jerkwads." More giggles from his friends, but they are nervous giggles, and they turn your backs on you.<br/>
<br/>
You turn to squint back at the low-slung hut where you got your clubs and balls. The guy who rented you the clubs—fat and bald, but bulging with muscles—has stepped out and is scowling at you all. You and your friends duck your heads and resume play. You take it very slow along the course, giving "Come Fuck With Me" and his friends plenty of time to finish their game, though they hang out in the clubhouse afterward, talking and cursing loudly among themselves as they shovel away the popcorn and play on the vintage arcade machines.<br/>
<br/>
You and your friends hurry through to leave, and part for the evening soon after.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're up by ten the next morning, for you made an early night of it, and are eating breakfast when Andrew texts to ask if you're ready to come over. You're about to reply <i>Gimme thirty min t shower</i> when it occurs to you that Caleb—with his interest in science, and who had that talk with Andrew about his work—might be interested in coming out to watch and help as well.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1132111
author_id: theskymarshall
title: You Go or I Go
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You raise an eyebrow at his statement. "What do mean by that - no, scratch that, what happened at school today?"<br/>
<br/>
Just like earlier today, he looks like he's brimming with excitement. "Will, today was AWESOME! Being this mobile again is like a dream come true for me! Sure, I have to take your classes but it's definitely nothing I can't handle." He says confidently with a wink before taking a step towards you. "You have to let me take your place again tomorrow, Will!" He urged.<br/>
<br/>
You take a step back to keep your distance. "Slow down, dude, what about Caleb and Keith? Did they notice anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"A little, they found it a little weird how excited 'Will' was for class so I kept a low profile throughout the whole day. Your notes came in handy by the way, got to your locker and other classes without getting lost." He explained while he walked over towards your school bag.<br/>
<br/>
You nod along as he adds in a few more details about his day, the fact that your phone never buzzed while Andrew took your place shows that he's done a solid job at being you today. What's more is that Andrew shows off some of his notes that he took during class, your eyes light up at how well-detailed and readable the notes were. If you took the time to read all of this, you could probably catch up on most of the classes that Andrew took for you. By the end of it, you found yourself smiling at how Andrew really wants to persuade you in letting him run your life. You decided to move the conversation away from that for a moment and shift it towards 'your' new friend.<br/>
<br/>
"Where'd you meet him?"<br/>
<br/>
Andrew walks over to the table and shows off the logo of Milagro Beanfield Warehouse. "The guy was studying there while I ordered coffee, I looked over what he was studying and it was Latin. That was when I struck up a conversation with him, we vibed and kept talking until I had to go, then he offered that he could keep me company until I got home."<br/>
<br/>
You can definitely picture that happening considering Andrew's personality despite having your face then you realize that he didn't mention an important fact yet. "So, who is he?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah! His name is Tobias but he prefers that people call him Toby. I found out that he's from Eastman, in case you were wondering." That last tidbit would explain why he didn't seem familiar in the slightest.<br/>
<br/>
You cross your arms, "You think that Toby can help us out?"<br/>
<br/>
Andrew gives you a light nod, "Yeah, he told me that he takes AP Latin in Eastman and I prefer that we can actually understand what that book is trying to tell us without spending hours slowly translating each word slowly with how it refuses to let us translate in bulk."<br/>
<br/>
He had a point, the two of you had a magic book that only unravels whenever somebody does what's written on the latest page. It'll definitely speed things up if you could quickly decipher what the book expects out of you. Still, neither of you know what the book has in store, not to mention, this Toby guy is a complete stranger, even to Andrew.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think we can trust him?" You question.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a slightly stern look. "That's another thing that I wanted to talk to you about." He points at his face, "Toby only knows me while I'm wearing your mask, I figured that we could keep that going until I think we can finally let him into all of this. What do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
You ponder on Andrew's proposal, you already know that this plays into allowing Andrew to pilot your life a little bit longer. After seeing how much effort he puts into putting up with the facade, it's also to your benefit while you get to slack off here again. While you didn't look forward to the idea of going back to school if you decline, it does give you the opportunity to meet Toby personally, although you have to act like he isn't a complete stranger to you. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm thinking about meeting up with Toby myself..." You suggest.<br/>
<br/>
You catch a faint look of disappointment on Andrew's borrowed face. "That's fine with me."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11321111
author_id: theskymarshall
title: Meet and Translate
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Awesome, am I supposed to meet him in Milagro after school?" You ask.<br/>
<br/>
Andrew stayed silent for a brief moment. "Yeah..."<br/>
<br/>
You grin at his direction from picking up on his disappointment, "You can still wear my mask while I'm out."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't exactly leave the house as you while you're at school. The two of us would have to deal with your Dad if he somehow finds out that 'you' walk out of this house in the middle of the day." He reasoned out, before long he shakes his head. "It's fine, I can take the mask off while you're out, little buddy. There's been some work that I've been putting off since we've started messing around with the book."<br/>
<br/>
That works out for both ends then. You look at the time and say that it was about time for you to head back home, Andrew offers you one of the extra cups of coffee that he had bought earlier but you turn it down. At the front door, you glance at Andrew who was setting up dinner for himself, you remind him to take a seat on his wheelchair before he attempts to take the mask off again. He gives you a thumbs up as he takes a sip out of his coffee, with that you make your way back home.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the evening and even the following morning was uneventful until you got to class. Andrew's notes were a godsend whenever one of the teacher's tries to catch you off guard about topics from yesterday. You dodge Caleb's questions about how you acted yesterday and luckily he stops pressing you about the topic altogether as the rest of the day went on. The whole day went by as if you skipped a school day but remained uneventful. Finally, when classes ended, you made your way to Milagro's to meet up with this Toby. <br/>
<br/>
There wasn't that many patrons in the shop when you arrived, making it rather easy for you to look for him. In the corner of the cafe, there was someone around your age sitting by his lonesome with some papers on the table while staring right into a laptop. He picks up a piping hot cup of coffee in his hand, his glasses fog up slightly as he takes a sip. He sets the cup down and turns back to his notes, he occasionally stops to scratch at his head. He doesn't notice you walk closer until you at a fair distance away from his table. He makes a double take before blinking and grinning in your direction, giving you a sign to walk up to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" He greets before gesturing you to take a seat on the table but not before he scoops up the rest of the papers away from your side. You do catch what was on the papers, looking like English and Latin class notes.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry about that, I've spent way too much time on the paper that you gave me."<br/>
<br/>
"That I... what?"<br/>
<br/>
Toby stares at you, "C'mon, man, remember that you told me that I should try translating some of the stuff from one of the random books that you found?"<br/>
<br/>
You realize that this is likely something that Andrew did when he was wearing your mask yesterday. "Ah, right. How's that going?" You played along.<br/>
<br/>
He frowns before opening a notebook and taking a folded paper out of it. "I tried to make sense out it as much as I could, pretty hard considering that what you gave me seemed like it's in the middle of the book... From what I can tell, it's part of some sort of DIY thing about a headband?" He explained doubtfully before handing the paper over to you.<br/>
<br/>
You were surprised to see the list of ingredients, steps on how to make it, and what it does. You notice what he meant when he tried to make sense out of it when you read over to what the description says about band being able to copy souls. All that was needed was to put it on for the copy, seal it, and it was good to go.<br/>
<br/>
"Does that make any sense to you?" Toby's voice pulls you away from the paper. <br/>
<br/>
You stare at paper for a brief moment, "Kinda? I don't completely get it either." You fib.<br/>
<br/>
Toby visibly shrugs before turning his attention back to the laptop, "Oh... well, let me know if you want anything else translated, let me know. It's miles better than doing homework." He says before closing his laptop, "Anyway, do you want anything? My treat." <br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
Toby opened up the conversation about computer jargon that completely goes over your head after you took him up on his offer, likely something he and Andrew talked about yesterday. He seemed to pick up on your lack of interest in the topic before he started asking about Westside, from there you were more than happy to give your input, and it didn't take long until the two of you began to weigh the pros and cons between the two schools. Toby's affable personality was probably the reason why Andrew liked him, he doesn't try to one-up you as the two of you converse and he's quick to shift the topic whenever it started to go stale. <br/>
<br/>
An hour passes, and that was when Toby finally suggests that it's probably about time to head home as it was starting to get late. Before going your separate ways, Toby reminds you that he'll be here at Milagro's again tomorrow if you wanted to meet up with him again. Afterwards, you got into your truck before driving back home, except you head over to Andrew's house instead of yours first.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, little buddy. What's up?" Andrew greets as he opens the door while he was on the wheelchair. <br/>
<br/>
You invite yourself in and opened up your backpack and hand him the translated paper that Toby made for him. He skims over it with a grin slowly creeping onto his face as he reads over the translated paper. <br/>
<br/>
"Damn, I didn't expect Toby to get this done this quickly, I just said that he could translate the latest page if he had the time for it." He shakes his head to stop himself from rambling and glances at the paper once again. "I can easily get my hands on some of the newer ingredients that we'd need for this. Oh, and I took the time to make another mask, it's unpolished though. You got this, right?" He asked while pointing over at a table, where the fresh mask was.<br/>
<br/>
You walk over to the table and pick it up, in a futile attempt to you rub your thumb over its surface, barely making a dent in polishing it.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think of Toby, by the way?"<br/>
<br/>
You explain that the two of you got along pretty well ignoring some of the hiccups that you had to deal with from Andrew taking your place yesterday. Once that was done, Andrew reads over the translated note once more. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Now that I've gotten a good look at what the last page does, I've gotten a few ideas..."<br/>
<br/>
You stay quiet and give him a nod to give him a signal to keep going.<br/>
<br/>
"If this 'soul-band' does what I think it does, then I can completely fool anybody into thinking that I'm you once I get a copy out of your brain." He proposed. "It could give me the freedom that I want without screwing anything about your life."<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you right in the eyes, "If that works out, we can get away with also grabbing a copy of Toby's brain. With one man manning the fort here constantly, we can spend as much time on the book as we possibly can it'll easier since we'll be able to decipher the Latin by then."</span></div></div>


path: 1132112
author_id: seuzz
title: Not Your Normal Cookbook
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a little before eleven when you saunter over to Andrew's in a loose t-shirt and shorts. His SUV is parked in the driveway and the garage door is up, so you poke your head in to look for him there.<br/>
<br/>
He greets you with you a bright, well-rested grin, and summons you over to a workbench, where the sacks you brought him last night are resting.<br/>
<br/>
"There's a couple of sawhorses in the side yard," he tells you. "Can I get you to bring them in for me? I'm gonna use them and a plywood sheet to make us a work table." You nod, and within a few minutes you've got a makeshift work site set up. Then, under his direction, you unload the bags and lay the stuff while he goes inside to get the book.<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta tell you," he says after rejoining you, "I really don't know how this is gonna turn out. This thing—" He shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"What are we making?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know! The book—"<br/>
<br/>
"I was gonna ask you about that," you say. "I didn't see anything like a recipe when I looked at it."<br/>
<br/>
Andrew hesitates. "Well, you were right about the book being weird. After you left, another one of those pages turned loose. Here, you can look at it."<br/>
<br/>
The top of the page he shows you is crowded with an ornate script while the bottom is dominated by an intricate, wheel-like design whose rim, inside and out, is thickly ornamented with smaller designs that look like a cross between Arabic and Chinese lettering. "So what's it say?" you ask Andrew.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's a recipe. That's the best I can call it. Though you're not going to be able <i>eat</i> whatever it makes, that's for sure."<br/>
<br/>
"What does it make?"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't tell you. It just tells you what to do with the stuff." Andrew continues to look unhappy. "I really shouldn't be playing around with this," he says. "Who knows if the guy who wrote the book even knew what he was doing. It's like alchemy or something. But, I'm really <i>curious.</i>" He trails off with a frown.<br/>
<br/>
If Andrew is nervous, then you should be too. But when he shakes himself and says, "Well, let's see what happens," you swallow and gamely put yourself at his disposal.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It all comes together pretty quickly, even with you measuring out each ingredient extra carefully, and with Andrew slowly translating the Latin, word by word and phrase by phrase, from the book using an online translator. (You ask why he didn't write out a full translation before, but he brusquely waves you off.) Bit by bit you add the stuff to a mixing bowl, which you set on the sigil—that's what Andrew calls the design at the bottom of the page—and drop a flaming match into it.<br/>
<br/>
An acrid smoke comes pouring out with a choking stench. You and Andrew gasp and cough and flee the garage for the driveway outside. You are still in the driveway, still recovering, when a neighbor woman comes striding along, walking a Husky.<br/>
<br/>
"Morning, Andrew!" she calls. Her smile fades to a look of mild alarm as she looks into the garage. "Oh, jeez, you got something on fire in there?" she asks as her dog dances from paw to paw and makes low <i>woof</i>-ing sounds at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I burned some brownies," Andrew says. "That's all."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's too bad. So how're y'all doing?" She smiles vacantly at you before returning to Andrew. "I haven't been out to the club in a couple of weeks—"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I missed you, thought you changed your schedule."<br/>
<br/>
He and the woman talk a little more while you cast nervous glances at the dog. It's big and fluffy and it has very sharp teeth, and the longer you look at it the more like it wolf it starts to look. It becomes more and more agitated, too, tugging at the leash and making louder and more aggressive barks at you, even with the woman telling it to hush.<br/>
<br/>
Finally Andrew and Heather—that's her name, you finally learn, when Andrew uses it—wind up their talk, and she resumes her walk. Andrew leads you back into the garage. The stink still lingers, but it has dissipated somewhat.<br/>
<br/>
Inside the bowl you find a runny, grayish paste that swirls when you tilt the bowl this way and that. Andrew raises his eyebrows over it, then turns back to the book. The next step, he informs you, is to pour it over the convex mirror—a semi-spherical bowl that you had to get at a speciality shop at the mall—that is the weirdest item Andrew had you buy. It seems like a waste of the stuff you've made—it'll probably just run out all over everything, and you'll have to mop it up with paper towels—but you do as directed. The paste comes out like a batter, and to your surprise it hardens almost instantly on touching the mirror, and forms a grayish shell around it. You and Andrew both touch it, confirming that it is warm but solid. Andrew himself then plucks up the thing up, mirror and all, and fumbles the shell off. He turns it this way and that, frowning at it.<br/>
<br/>
And then, like he's suffered a spasm, he hurls the thing from himself. It flies away, bounces off a cabinet built into the garage wall, and falls with a clatter to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," Andrew stammers. "It just seemed to ... twist around, in my hand." He flinches, and stares hard at the thing on the ground.<br/>
<br/>
You go over to pick it up, but you pull your hand back as you bend over it. You sit down in a crouch and stare at it.<br/>
<br/>
It was a smooth semi-sphere, like the mirror, when Andrew picked it up. But the thing on the ground no longer has the same shape.<br/>
<br/>
For a start, it is an oval now. It is also a lot shallower, like soup bowl. And, finally, it is no longer smooth and regular, but has acquired ridges and bumps along its concave side.<br/>
<br/>
You twist your head around to get a look at these, and are shocked when you recognize the pattern they make.<br/>
<br/>
It's a face. <br/>
<br/>
There's a brow and a brow-line over two wells that look like the lids of a pair of sleeping eyes. These are separated by a nose that lies between two cheek bones and flat cheeks. The lips of a mouth are closed against each other, and beneath these are a chin. The whole thing looks rather like one of those "tragedian" masks that sometimes decorate the marquee of a theater, only with a neutral expression.<br/>
<br/>
How in the world this thing came to have such a shape—which could only have been carved and smoothed into by a skilled sculptor—you have no idea. The skin up and down your back ripples with goosebumps, and you glance around, hoping to spot the original sphere somewhere nearby. That would be more comforting than to think that this ... <i>thing</i> ... is it.<br/>
<br/>
You glance up as Andrew rolls up beside you, to bend over and frown at it too. "Pick it up," he tells you in a husky voice after a moment's silence. "It's okay," he assures you when you hesitate, though there's a strong note of doubt in his own voice.<br/>
<br/>
So you do. You pick it up and just as quickly hand it to him. He hastily drops it into his lap and stares down at it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He still has it in his lap, and is consulting the book, when you hear your name called. You jump with a guilty start, and look around to see your dad looking in at you through the garage door. "Can you turn loose?" he asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" You turn a panicked glance at Andrew, who looks up from the book with a startled expression.<br/>
<br/>
"I was just wondering," your dad says, "if you could go pick us up some burgers. Andrew," he adds, "can we get you anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," he stammers. "Uh, thanks, Harris." He looks at you. "Sure, we're at a— You can go take care of your dad."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be back later," you tell him, but he has gone back to reading the book. And, you'd admit to yourself, it is with a mix of reluctance and relief that you leave him and that weirdness.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your dad sends you to Five Guys for lunch, and you're away long enough that a visitor has arrived when you get back: Umeko, to pick your brother up for the movie. In fact, they'll be leaving in a few minutes, which is why your dad only gave you an order for three when you left.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko is a very pretty twenty-year-old girl, with long, black hair and a mischievous, knowing smile. Robert looks like he's going to burst with happiness as he fidgets beside her. But his expression falters when Umeko turns from him to you and says, "You wanna go with us?"<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11321122
author_id: seuzz
title: Ready Player One
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You wanna go with us?" Umeko asks you with a smile. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your brother's face fall.<br/>
<br/>
You're sorely tempted to say "Yes." Not because you're interested in the movie she and Robert are going to see. <i>Rat Race</i> is a CG-animated kids' movie about a round-the-world race by a lot of (yes) anthropomorphized rats. It looks stupid. But you like the idea of doing something with Umeko, and you like even better the idea of doing something to spite your little brother, who has always been a thorn in your side.<br/>
<br/>
But even to you it would feel petty and vindictive to do something you don't want to do, just to make your brother miserable. Besides—<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I'm busy this afternoon," you tell Umeko. "I'm helping Andrew—that's one of our neighbors—with a project."<br/>
<br/>
Robert's expression floods with relief, and almost you change your mind. Umeko smiles and asks what you're helping with. "Home project," you stammer. "And, uh, actually I have to get back. Have fun at the movie," you tell her with a very false cheer.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a whine of machinery echoing from Andrew's garage when you lope back over. You can't make out what's going on, but it involves something blue and a circular rag that's spinning at very high speed.<br/>
<br/>
Andrew looks up as you approach, and shuts off the machine he has wedged between his knees. "Hey," he says in a preoccupied tone. "Does this look done to you?"<br/>
<br/>
It's the thing you made together, but it has changed color, from a pasty gray to a brilliant and glowing blue. You whistle at it without touching it. "What did you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Polished it. It's the next step, according to the instructions. I decided to try using this." He hefts the machine he was using—a small motor, with a rod and circular rag sprouting like a mushroom from one end. "It's a car buffer," he adds when you frown at it.<br/>
<br/>
"How much polishing is it supposed to take?" you ask. Gingerly you take the thing from him and turn it over and over in your hands. There are a few streaks of white on it still, but otherwise it looks like it's made of blue porcelain—or like a piece of the sky that's broken off and fallen to earth.<br/>
<br/>
"The book doesn't say. It just says 'polish' it. I don't think it's changing color anymore, and it looks pretty polished to me. I've been working on it since you left."<br/>
<br/>
You point to the streaks that you spotted, and Andrew goes to work on them while you stand to the side and watch. After a few more minutes, he hands you the mask—it's hard to think of it as anything else, for that's what it looks like—for inspection. As near as you can tell, it is now free of any imperfections.<br/>
<br/>
"So is that it?" you ask as you hand it back to him.<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates, and glances around with an uneasy frown.<br/>
<br/>
"There's one more step," he says. "Normally I wouldn't worry about it, it's a simple thing. But this whole ... <i>project</i> ... has been so weird." He gives you a worried glance. "You know?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean," he continues, "there's no way that stuff you bought should have come together to make a thing like— And then the way it ... changed shape—" He bites his lip.<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty freaky," you agree.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, the last step," Andrew says, "is you're supposed to put it on someone's face." He gives you a very hard and direct look.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Put it on someone's face,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
"So," Andrew continues, and a stammer has come into his voice, "normally I wouldn't think anything of it. I mean, you just put it on your face. What could happen? Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right."<br/>
<br/>
"Except." He grimaces, then abruptly wheels himself over to the work table, where the book lies open. "Except for what it says will happen next."<br/>
<br/>
<i>What will happen next</i>. The words give you a chill even as Andrew with one thumb taps at his cell phone with his thumb. He takes a deep breath before reading off the phone.<br/>
<br/>
"The translation is wonky," he says, "and I don't know if the Latin is bad or if the translation algorithm is off. Probably the last," he adds in a gruff undertone. "But it says that when you put it on a face, the mask will ... <i>absorb</i> ... the image of the person." His eyes are filled with worry when he looks up at you. "What do you think that means?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't like the word "absorb." To tell the truth, it makes it sound like the thing is supposed to suck the face off the person, like a vacuum cleaner slurping a Kleenex off the floor. But you only shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"You know," he continues, and spins his chair around to fully face the book. "I don't think I like this anymore. It's too spooky. I just thought it was a joke"—he flips a few pages back, to the start of the book—"when I started reading it. Or something written by a lunatic. I think I told you this was like alchemy, and you know, a lot of those guys went crazy because of the chemicals they were playing with. But this—" He picks the mask up from his lap, and turns it around in his hands. He falls silent.<br/>
<br/>
"Do <i>you</i> have any idea what it's supposed to do?"<br/>
<br/>
He scratches his head. Then he says, "I think it's supposed to <i>copy</i> people."<br/>
<br/>
"Copy people?" you echo.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. This introduction"—he taps the open book—"is really obscure. But I think it's supposed to copy people. I think"—he sucks on his lower lip. "I think it's supposed to make disguises!<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what I'm doing," he continues when the silence between you has become very awkward. "Thanks for your help, Will."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't look at you—it's like he's dodging your eye—as he scoops the book up and turns to wheel himself back into his house.<br/>
<br/>
It's like he's dismissing you, after all the help you gave him. You wonder what he's going to do. Is he going to throw the book and the mask and the other stuff away? Or is going to try putting the mask on? You're not sure if you should offer to help, or to just walk away.<br/>
<br/>
At the very least, though, you need Andrew to know that you're still willing to help, for there's a worm of guilt eating away at your heart for having dropped the book into his lap the way you did.<br/>
<br/>
"Andrew!" you call. "What are you going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
He glances back. "I don't know, Will. It's not your concern."<br/>
<br/>
"I still want to help."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's too weird. Too dangerous."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're just going to get rid of it? The book and the stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably," he says. There's a lot of doubt in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Man, it's too dangerous for you to play with. By yourself, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"By myself?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, if you're gonna try doing what the book says— You know, putting it on— You should have someone else around. Just in case."<br/>
<br/>
"Just in case what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just in case ... whatever!"<br/>
<br/>
Andrew ponders a moment, then says, "I'm pretty sure I won't." He turns away.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113212
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Back to class being yourself
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Even as he explains, your mind is sifting the possibilities: a day off school hanging here playing games and watching TV, no bullies, no quizzes, no crappy lunch food, no silly annoyances from Keith, no nagging from Caleb on asking your dad about the job at Salopek or push-back about him getting feedback on you from Lisa, no seeing Lisa. Of course, she's paying you no mind as you pine away watching her with Geoff Mansfield. Your mind drifts on how she began ignoring you when school started saying you weren't really dating all of last summer when you spent so much time together. There's plenty of other girls, and you should be taking Caleb's advise talking with them. Every day there's class assignments and projects where you talk to lots of people, but Lisa is stuck in your mind and you on her.<br/>
<br/>
Uncertainty sweeps through you, and you answer, "I don't think that would be too good. You don't know my schedule or other students or teachers, or who to avoid." Although you don't mind if he steps in when you're accosted by Lester the Molester or one of the other thugs.<br/>
<br/>
His face droops sadly into a pleading look, and you feel bad disappointing him; but even if he never meant to, your life could get seriously fucked up.<br/>
<br/>
"If only you had more of my memories or something to make sure nothing bad happened," you offer as hope and an excuse.<br/>
<br/>
"How much worse could it get? You're always telling me school is the shits and you want to escape," he counters but then nods and puts his hand, which is actually your hand, on your shoulder. "You're right. At least I can pretend to be a happy you while you go in and get beat up."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Fucking thanks."<br/>
<br/>
Andrew laughs, and so do you until he suddenly gets very concerned which rises a shiver of fear in you.<br/>
<br/>
"So, how do I get this off?"<br/>
<br/>
Like a pair of panicked kids, you race over to the book where Andrew cautiously picks at the page. It turns. On the reverse is a crude diagram of a face and hand with fingers seemingly poking the eyes. Slowly, you turn at each other. Seeing your own pale face doubles your fear before looking back to try reading the odd Latin below.<br/>
<br/>
It's almost fifteen minutes before you both agree what it says. By placing your thumb and fingers around one eyebrow and repeating some nonsensical, though probably just magical, words three times, a pull should lift the mask free. As Andrew positions his hand and starts reciting, you stop him.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you should take a seat first."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" You cringe. "Oh, yeah. Good thinking."<br/>
<br/>
It's not until the third try, while you were sweating from heated fear it won't come off, that the mask comes free in his hand then falls to the floor. The body that was your duplicate slumps and repeats the strange out-of-focus transformation until Andrew is back in his wheelchair.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude. Andrew. You OK? Wake up. Speak to me," you call to the unconscious then begin to shake him. When he doesn't come round, you look at the mask then dash back to the book on the table to make sure there isn't something else. Nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"ANDREW!" you shout now trembling as much as your shaking of his shoulders. He just remains still. Automatically, you run to the kitchen and fill a glass with cold tap water to splash him since that's what they do in the movies. Some sloshes out while running back, but it's no concern. Just as you're about to toss it in his face, his head lifts and eyes gradually flicker open. They catch yours for a few seconds before seeing the glass.<br/>
<br/>
"Waiting make you thirsty or is that for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shit, Andrew," you blurt in relief. "When I couldn't  wake you, ... Damn!"<br/>
<br/>
Andrew takes the glass then a big draft before handing it back with a chuckle. After a quick scan around, he picks up the mask and rolls to the table while you slow your breathing and follow. Placing the mask onto the open book, the page with the last spell glows quickly around the edges, then he pushes the mask aside and turns the previously locked page.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
The next spell seems to be more crudely, or cryptically written, although it may be that neither of you are that good at Latin anyway. Andrew tries a translation app on the web, but it comes out gibberish. It only works for partial phrases and individual words. Even then, you have to piece it together in different ways to figure anything out.<br/>
<br/>
Before it's translated, you have to go back home for dinner. Andrew says he'll call you when he figures it out. Fortunately, Umeko stays for dinner after bringing your brother back from the movies. He smirks at you, and you make a mental note to hassle him later, but now you need to be on best behavior for Umeko.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
"You're putting in what?" you ask incredulously. You're at the school locker you share with Caleb Johansson your best friend. He's smart, in a couple advance classes of science and math, but this just sounds completely stupid.<br/>
<br/>
"A thumb drive full of porn. What better way to show today's society fifty years in the future when they open it up."<br/>
<br/>
He's talking about his contribution to the time capsule that your Social Studies teacher came up with. As a class assignment, each student is to put something in it that will give a distant future class something to see what life was like for your class. That's why you initially had gotten the book that turned too freaky to keep and you sold to Andrew. Now it dawns on you that you need to find something else in the next two days or get a failing grade.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll be suspended when he looks at the files."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I've buried 'em under a hundred directories of other dribble from the Internet. Even someone with no life like Walberg isn't going to take the time to go through all that. But I'm sure kids of tomorrow will be smart enough to find it."<br/>
<br/>
He winks, and you decide it's better to not know what makes it obvious so that you don't get kicked out as well. So, you change the subject.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, gotten anything back from Eva about Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
Lisa was your supposed girlfriend over the summer but dropped you for the preppy-type, Geoff Mansfield, when school started but gave you no reason. She just started hanging with him and avoiding you. When you did stop her once and asked, she just curtly said that she didn't think you were seriously dating - probably because it was more informal get-togethers and you only kissed her once, on the forehead, when you were sitting in the park. You really want to know so you can get her back.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Will," Caleb sighs obviously annoyed. "Maybe it wasn't meant to be," he adds calmly after closing the locker and turning to face you.<br/>
<br/>
"Even so. I want to know. Eva's her best friend, and you know <i>her</i>. She's bound to know why."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>If</i> she'd tell me. It's probably better not to know."<br/>
<br/>
"Not to know what?" comes a whiny voice from behind. Keith Tilley's. Your next closest friend. You ignore him. "Oh, that? Dude, there's lots of other babes available," he adds.<br/>
<br/>
"That's not the point."<br/>
<br/>
"He needs closure."<br/>
<br/>
"I just want to know what's in her head?"<br/>
<br/>
"Now there's a scary prospect - getting into a girl's head," Keith smirks lasciviously liking his lips.<br/>
<br/>
You backhand him. "Her mind, pervert. What she thinks and how she remembers last summer and me, and why she's so opposed to it now."<br/>
<br/>
"Mind reading leads to things you never want to know and then wish you didn't," Caleb lectures hoisting his backpack. "So what has your dad said about me getting that job at Salopek?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, right. I haven't brought it up to him." Your Dad's been pressuring you to get a part-time job especially since you slacked off all summer. There's some openings at the defense contractor where he works since some kids from Eastman they hired didn't work out. It's not what you want at all, but Caleb is interested hoping to get an up on the engineering side.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb then leaves you with, "Well, I'd sure like to know what's in his head about <i>that</i>."<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
Later in Walberg's class, you watch anxiously as most of the students turn in their items for the time capsule. Walberg, The Walrus, is checking off names as they do. Caleb gives you a wink as he turns his in, but it's Lisa that catches your eye until Mansfield walks by and bumps you.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sorry, Will," he fakes an apology. "Not got anything - <i>now</i>?" he teases chuckling and continues back to his desk.<br/>
<br/>
You have to hold back your arm and swallow your retort to avoid Walberg seeing and keeping you to detention, plus you don't want to act up in front of Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott," Walberg gurgles in his odd voice.<br/>
<br/>
As you turn to face him, he raises his head from the list to find you. <br/>
<br/>
"Ah, still working on it," you muster.<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow's the deadline. I remind all of you that this is 50% of this quarter's grade. No exceptions, no makeup. And don't forget the test this week. That's another 25%."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Crap!</i> you think as the bell rings. You've barely finishing reading the sections let alone started studying. Slowly putting your notes aside and getting up, you see Mansfield in the doorway with some AP guys, but Lisa is still gathering her books.<br/>
<br/>
This is your chance to ask Lisa for a study session and try to get back in good with her. Of course, you also have to go get something for the time capsule to avoid an F.<br/>
<br/>
As you're deciding what to do, your cell shakes your leg. It's a text from Caleb wanting to meet after school.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133
author_id: seuzz
title: School Haze
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Yeah, you should just bury the book. Magic; the occult; it's probably a bad scene all the way around.<br/>
<br/>
Of course it's way too late to drive out to the school now, so you tuck the strange book under the passenger-side mat and go back inside your house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you manage to forget all about it until the next morning, when you're walking along the school breeze-way on your way to first period. With a groan, you turn and start to trudge back to the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
You're only halfway there when a pale-faced Keith Tilley sprints into view up ahead. He dashes up and crouches behind you. "Jesus, Will, hide me hide me hide me," he whimpers.<br/>
<br/>
"What the--"<br/>
<br/>
"Javits," he says in a terrified croak.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Christ! If you were <i>running</i> from him, no way he didn't see you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably. And he's coming this way."<br/>
<br/>
You spin on your heel and start hurrying back toward the school. Keith falls in next to you, but you pull away as he clutches at your arm. "Get away from me," you snarl. "I don't want Javits noticing <i>me.</i> Has he got a posse with him?"<br/>
<br/>
Before Keith can answer, you hear a hoarse, gloating voice calling out: "Tilley!" Keith leaps away like a hare, and you have to steel yourself not to run too as the lithe, strong Seth Javits sprints past. <i>Good luck, Keith</i> you think to yourself. Seth is one of the faster basketball players, so your friend will need it.<br/>
<br/>
And since his friends are probably back at the gym, between you and the parking lot, you decide to leave the book in the car until later.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And, naturally, you forget about it until you're back at home. <i>Four-twenty,</i> the clock says when you think of it again. Well, there will still be teachers at the school, and the doors will still be open, so there won't be any trouble getting inside. And Mr. Walberg, you know for a fact, often stays late. Besides, it'll be an excuse to delay starting on your homework.<br/>
<br/>
The student parking lot is mostly empty when you pull in, but you recognize a few of the cars, most prominently Gordon Black's VW Bug. <i>Yeesh.</i> Him and the other basketball players must still be hanging around after post-class practice. You'd have to pass the gym to get in through the front doors, so instead you decide to approach B wing from the back by skirting the rear of the school. <br/>
<br/>
You've just passed D wing when a figure swings into view up ahead. He's instantly recognizable: soft, reddish-gold, fly-away hair bobbing in the breeze; flannel pajama bottoms; a low-cut white t-shirt under a threadbare brown sports jacket; bedroom slippers. "Ay!" Dane Matthias grins at you. "It Will! Be! Prescott! What're you hangin' around here for, like a loser without a social life?" He laughs good-naturedly.<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta see Walberg about something," you reply. "What's wrong with <i>your</i> social life?"<br/>
<br/>
"Walberg!" he gasps. "No shit! I just got through hangin' out with ol' walrus-butt myself." He pulls a short cylinder and lighter from his jacket pocket, and you don't have to wait for the acrid odor to know what he's lighting. "Oh, he's a lotta fun when he gets mellow. Lookit what we share." He takes a deep hit, and graciously offers it to you.<br/>
<br/>
You wave him off with a smile. "Yeah, I can't imagine <i>that.</i> What were doing with him? You have him for a class?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Fifth period history. He <i>likes</i> me. Asked me to hang out with him after classes for the next month." He laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>shit,</i> Dane, what'd you <i>do?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs and takes another hit, and laughs again. "He caught me goin' through his desk," he says, eyes dancing merrily through the smoke. "I was just lookin' for some chalk, 'cos I was gonna write somethin' on the board. If he only came back two minutes later, and seen what I was gonna write, I'd be hangin' out with him for the rest of the <i>year!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Christ! I wouldn't go through Walberg's desk for <i>money!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"And he didn't have any of that, either," Dane laughs. "But he thinks I learned my lesson." He takes one last hit, then wets his fingertips and carefully pinches the end of the joint. "He goes off and leaves me by myself for ten, fifteen minutes at a time. And you know what I do <i>then,</i> right?" He grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God, you go through his desk, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
His laugh is long and raspy, and he clasps your shoulder. "What're you doin' when you're done with him? We should go hang out, man. I was gonna go find Tim or Karl, but fuck 'em. Just you and me, with some beers by the river. Talk about girls and teachers and titties and homework and pussy and--" His eyes glint: warm and friendly and inviting.<br/>
<br/>
You grin and hang your head. You like Dane, and he likes everyone. It's a flattering invite, but that's not really your style. "Maybe this weekend?" you counter.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I'll forget by then," he says, and pats his jacket pocket meaningfully. "Come on. Do you good, man. Johansson makes you all stiff." <br/>
<br/>
It surprises you a little, that he's watched you with your best friend and made some kind of judgment about your relationship--even if it's not one you'd like to agree with. "Call me this weekend if you happen to remember," you challenge him back.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs lightly. "Don't ask the impossible of me, dude. But I'll see you around." He looks past your shoulder. "You see Black or Patterson or them? Maybe they'll let me up in their fuck palace." He doesn't wait for an answer, and just lopes along his way.<br/>
<br/>
You watch him as he goes--and he does pull at the gym's side door, but finds it locked--and you take your ball cap off and tug at your stiff, straw-like hair. Briefly, you're tempted to reconsider his offer, and to call after him. <br/>
<br/>
But it would be weird. Dane is very relaxed, about everyone and everything, and you're not sure you've got it in you to relax alongside him; you'd have to be a very different kind of person to fit in with him. You wince as you wonder if Dane is right: Maybe you <i>are</i> a bit of a stiff; you certainly feel stiffly self-conscious at the moment. You find yourself wistfully wishing you could take a vacation from yourself and be a different kind of person, at least for a little while.<br/>
<br/>
And then, with a sigh, you remember that you've still got that book you're trying to get rid of. You turn back toward the school.<br/>
<br/>
But the back doors to B wing are locked, so you trot around the side, counting off windows until you come to Walberg's room. You peer in, and rear back in surprise, for Walberg is staring straight back at you. But the window is open, and you bend and put your face into the narrow crack. "Hey, Mr. Dubya," you call. "Can you let me in?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you need, Mr. Prescott?" he gruffly asks. His eyes are hidden behind his heavy, tinted glasses, and his jowly mouth sags in a frown beneath his enormous, walrus-like mustache. <br/>
<br/>
"I got something for the time capsule."<br/>
<br/>
"It can't wait till tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was driving by, and I thought--" You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
He's a big man, big and stout, and he seems immovable as he rests with his forearms on his desk. <i>Walrus butt, indeed.</i> "Front doors are unlocked, Mr. Prescott," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You're tempted to just slip the book through the window to him, but it doesn't look like he's going to want to come over and take it from you, so you shrug again and trot back the way you came. You sigh: You'll have to circle all the freaking way around the school.<br/>
<br/>
You pass the back door to A wing, and find that it's locked as well. And as you're paused in front of it, you hear voices and laughter.<br/>
<br/>
It's coming from behind you, from the old, ratty portable units nearby. Someone or some ones are back on the other side of the nearest one, it sounds like. Who might it be?<br/>
<br/>
And then you remember Dane, and you can well guess the kind of students who would still be on campus, and what they might be getting up to.</span></div></div>


path: 11331
author_id: seuzz
title: A Company of Three
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You follow the sound of the voices, but have to search around the back of several portables before you find them. "Oh, fuck!" Justin Roth gasps as you round a corner. He's crouching on the ground, and falls over in silent, asthmatic laughter. <br/>
<br/>
Not that he's laughing at you, or that he's even seen you. He's huddling with Shep "Maize" Tsosie and Perry Small, and the sight of those two almost sends you back around the corner. But Justin catches sight of you before you can retreat, and his eyes light up. "Hey, look, it's Will Prescott!" He grins. The other two look over, and though they smile too, their eyes glint with a darker amusement.<br/>
<br/>
"Guys," you say, and shift awkwardly on your feet. You don't know these three very well, and to the extent you do know them you tend to steer clear of them. But you step forward and crouch down next to them when Justin beckons you over.<br/>
<br/>
He's dressed in ratty shorts and a ratty shirt, and his limbs and face are a dark brown from the summer sun; you're vaguely aware that he likes to go hunting, and his tan has the rough, well-earned look that comes from lots of exposure to sun and wind. His hazel eyes twinkle from under a shaggy mop of brown hair. "What are you doin' back here, man?" he asks in a raspy baritone.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what are you doing back here?"<br/>
<br/>
He hacks out a rude guffaw, then reaches over to twitch the blunt end of a joint from Tsosie's lips. "I wasn't done with that," the other snarls, but Roth just laughs at him. Tsosie pulls his long, dark hair back into a loose ponytail and glares at his friend. His rounded biceps briefly bulge as he balls his fists; mica-like eyes flash. Tsosie may be a stoner, but he's also a jock—he plays on the baseball team—and you really wouldn't want to get on his bad side. But his spasm of irritation subsides, and his hair falls back onto his face as he looks down at the ground.<br/>
<br/>
Roth holds the joint out to you. "If you didn't bring your own—"<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," you say, and slowly reach out to take it. It's one thing to turn down an offer from Dane: he wouldn't hold it against you in any way. But you don't want to offend these three by rejecting it. You put it to your lips and take a short puff, and cough a little as a sharp bit of smoke goes down your throat. You hand it back to him, and he takes a much deeper hit with a twinkling smile.<br/>
<br/>
Perry snickers softly at you. "You up here late studying?"<br/>
<br/>
"I had to come back up, turn something in for Walberg."<br/>
<br/>
"Pff, Walberg," Tsosie snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Say hi to Dane for us," Justin laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"I just ran into him," you say. "He was heading off for the gym." You look over your shoulder, vaguely hoping that he'll materialize.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker," Justin laughs again. "We were waiting for him, and he knows it."<br/>
<br/>
"Gyuh huh huh," Perry mockingly chortles, then snorts. "Fuck 'im. Let's go." He rises to his feet and brushes his knees. He's taller than you, and peers down skeptically at you, and as you're still in a crouch, there's something ominous in his looming manner. He brushes his long, blonde hair back from his forehead. <br/>
<br/>
Of the three, he's the one that frightens you the most. Justin and Maize dress shabbily, like kids from the wrong side of the tracks, but Perry is a snappy dresser: nice slacks and clean sneakers and a sharp, coal-grey polo shirt; a thin, gold bracelet slides along his skinny wrist. He's <i>chosen</i> this kind of existence. As he stares down at you, you can see him weighing the choice: Would it be more fun to humiliate you by extending you an invitation, or to humiliate you by withholding it?<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, there's no rush," Justin says, and he settles back against the wall of the portable, stretching his legs. "Will just got here." Perry snorts again, then leans against the wall and folds his arms. "Whatcha workin' on for Walberg?" Justin continues.<br/>
<br/>
"He's having us put together a time capsule. I'm bringing in my thing for him."<br/>
<br/>
"No shit," Justin says, sounding genuinely interested. "Whatcha got for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's a time capsule?" Maize asks.<br/>
<br/>
"A box of junk," Perry says as you unzip your bag and take out the book. "You bury it, and then in, like, a hundred years they dig it up again."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck for?" Maize asks.<br/>
<br/>
"For an easy grade," Perry sneers. "Right, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You give him a quick, dirty look as you hand the book over to Roth.<br/>
<br/>
He grunts and blinks as he takes it from you. "The idea," Justin says, and pauses. He blinks again, as though gathering his thoughts. "The idea," he repeats, "is that you put together a bunch of stuff that's like, typical or important from when you're alive. Then in the future they can look at it and get some idea of, like, what normal people had or were interested in."<br/>
<br/>
"Won't they have history books in the future?" Maize asks.<br/>
<br/>
"When was the last time you opened a history book?" Perry demands.<br/>
<br/>
"The point is," Justin says, "that the history books are always about, like, famous people and things. They don't really tell you what it was like, I mean, really like back then. Like, they had cologne and stuff a hundred years ago, right?" <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I guess," Maize says.<br/>
<br/>
"What did it smell like?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Like my great-great granddad."<br/>
<br/>
"Your great-great granddad smelled like a dead buffalo," Perry says. You can't help but blanch a little at the blunt, insulting reference to Maize's pure-blood Cherokee heritage.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna fuck you up in a—" Maize mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"The point is," Justin says, raising his voice, then falls into a hacking cough as his voice cracks. "The point is," he gasps when he resumes, "that the history books won't tell you what it smelled like. But you got all these people walking around wearing it. So, that's like what the past smelled like. But you can't get that in a history book." He pauses, as though rallying his thoughts. "But if you put a bottle of cologne in one of these time capsules—" He stares at the first page of the book, and his eyes go in and out of focus. "Whoa. Um. Yeah. If you put a bottle of cologne in a time capsule, then they can know in the future what the past smelled like."<br/>
<br/>
"It smells like shit," Perry grumbles again. "Actually, if they wanna know what it smells like right now, they should put your shirt in this time capsule."<br/>
<br/>
Justin shoots him a sharp smile, then returns to the book. "Yeah, but what's this thing, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just a book. I found it at Arnholm's a few days ago."<br/>
<br/>
"A pretty old book," Justin says. He tries thumbing through it. "What the fuck's wrong with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. It's like all the pages are glued shut."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus." He stares at it. "This really ain't the kind of thing for a time capsule."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well." You trail off. You don't want to tell him: <i>It's a freaky book, probably magic, and I'm trying to get rid of it.</i> "It didn't cost me much, and I don't want it."<br/>
<br/>
"How much?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, what'd I pay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, how much do you want for it?" Justin says. "It says 'two' here." He's not so stoned he can't see the altered price. <br/>
<br/>
"You mean you wanna buy it off me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Walberg'll fucking flunk you if you try giving this to him," Justin says. "It's totally wrong for what he wants, I'm sure."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not serious about—" Perry cries.<br/>
<br/>
"Look at it!" Justin yells back. He hauls Perry rudely back down to the ground. "Look at these fuckers." He grins glassily as he runs a finger lightly over the title page.<br/>
<br/>
It must be the faces, those weird, shifting, transforming faces. It doesn't take much imagination to put yourself in Roth's place, to "see" those faces through a drug-tinged stupor. "Gah!" he suddenly shouts, and slams the book shut. He puts a hand over his eyes and shakes his head. "Tell me I'm not having a flashback," he gasps as he thrusts the book at Perry.<br/>
<br/>
The latter gives you a dark look, then opens it up. He stares intently at the page, and then his mouth drops open slightly. "Fucking hell." He raises the book close to his face.<br/>
<br/>
Tsosie yanks it away from him, and takes his turn staring at the pictures with a frown. "What's so—?" he starts, and then it's his turn to gasp. His jaw works silently for a moment, and then looks up at you, his mouth spread in a rictus. He hurls the book at your feet. "Get rid of it."<br/>
<br/>
"What's your deal?" Justin demands, and snatches the book up off the ground.<br/>
<br/>
"It's bad news, man," Tsosie says. His cheeks have paled under his dusky Cherokee coloring, and he's glaring at you like it—whatever "it" is—is your fault.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone slip some bad shit in your pipe?" Perry asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Get rid of it," Tsosie repeats. He rears back. "I don't want anything to do with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, who said you'd have to?" Justin cries. "Will, man I'll give you—" He digs around his front pocket and draws out a couple of crumpled, dirty bills. "What have I got? Shit, not that one." He shove ones bill back into his pants. "Um, three bucks for it? Go get something else for Walberg."<br/>
<br/>
There's no desperation in Justin's offer; he only looks amused by your find. Perry is smirking at Tsosie. The latter looks at Justin, and at you, and his nostrils flare. It's weird that he reacted so badly to it, and it only strengthens your impression that the book needs getting rid of. You could get rid of it now, at a tiny profit, by accepting Justin's offer. But that's not really a safe disposal, is it? And you have the impression that Tsosie would hold it against you if you sold it to Justin.</span></div></div>


path: 113311
author_id: seuzz
title: A Temporary Reassertion of Normality
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, sure," you say, and take Justin's money. Maize looks away and mutters under his breath. "I'll leave you to have fun with it," you add, and beat a retreat.<br/>
<br/>
Only later, when you're back at your car, do you pause to hope that the book really isn't the kind of thing someone can have "fun" with.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Check it out," Caleb says, and holds a thumb drive up between his forefinger and thumb.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that, your cock?"<br/>
<br/>
He flips you off. "Close."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a digitized version of your cock?"<br/>
<br/>
He leans back in his chair, and a flying elbow dislodges some of the crap piled up on his bedroom desk as he pulls at his zipper. "Hey, if you're so fascinated by my cock, Will--"<br/>
<br/>
"Gyah!" You scoot back on his bed. "Just tell me what's on your mind."<br/>
<br/>
He snickers. "Porn."<br/>
<br/>
"I know <i>that."</i><br/>
<br/>
"I mean, that's what I've got here. It's for Walberg, for his time capsule. Brilliant, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
No, at best it's a crazy thing even for your best friend to say. "That's stupid! You can't tell Walberg you're putting <i>porn</i> in the time capsule--"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb snorts. "I'm not going to <i>tell</i> him. You think I'm an idiot? Shut up. I'm just going to tell him it's, you know, internet documents. Which is true. I got 'em off the internet."<br/>
<br/>
"Pictures?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck yeah. What, you think I went looking for Harry Potter slash fiction? I got some of my favorites on here. As many as I could squeeze onto eight gigs."<br/>
<br/>
It's rarely a good idea to get Caleb to explain himself, but somehow you can't resist being drawn into this imbecility. "What the fuck good is it to send porn into the future?"<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck good is it to send anything to the future?" he retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"The point," you say, remembering what Justin had said, "is to send things that are, like, representative of life today."<br/>
<br/>
He throws back his head as he cackles and hoots. "And porn isn't representative of life today?" he gasps. "Oh, fuck, if that's what we're doing, I should totally tell Walberg exactly what I'm giving him. I'd get an A for sure." <br/>
<br/>
Then he catches his breath, blinks and suddenly looks thoughtful. A terrible suspicion grips your chest. "No, you're not actually thinking of telling him--"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. No. I guess it would be stupid." He cocks his head. "Still, maybe I could suggest it to him, just to see what he says."<br/>
<br/>
"And then he'd know that's what you put on that thing. And that's another reason you shouldn't turn that in to him. He'll check it out for himself and catch what you put on it."<br/>
<br/>
"Pssh. The guy still uses a typewriter. That's actually why I'm giving him a thumb drive. Or, that's what I'm going to tell him if he asks."<br/>
<br/>
It just gets stupider and stupider. "You're giving him a thumb drive because he uses a typewriter?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, dipwad. Because they're not going to be able read a thumb drive in the future."<br/>
<br/>
You press your temples. Caleb is smart, so you're pretty sure this surreal idiocy is too subtle for you. But by now you're tired of giving him the satisfaction of explaining it to you. "Makes sense," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Then explain it to me." He grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck you. Okay, professor. Why are you sending an unreadable thumb drive full of porn into the future?"<br/>
<br/>
"As a demonstration of the obsolescence of technology!" he exclaims in the triumphant tone of a philosopher who has just demonstrated the necessity of his own existence.<br/>
<br/>
You stare. "I'd just go with the porn explanation. You know, that's what life is like these days."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "What are you going to give him?"<br/>
<br/>
You tug your ear. "How about a bottle of cologne? Or aftershave?" You'd not given five seconds of thought to the assignment yourself, and Justin's suggestion seems like a reasonable one.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb guffaws. "Brilliant."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. It's like--" You struggle to remember what Justin had said. <i>How could a guy who was probably stoned out of his head have spoken so cogently about cologne as a key to an understanding of the past?</i> "It's like, do you know what the past smells like?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. It smells like your underwear. You haven't changed it in--"<br/>
<br/>
You leap at him, and spend a good minute giving him a light but satisfying throttle before falling back onto the bed. "No, it's like, they all wore this cologne and stuff a hundred years ago. That's what the past smelled like. But we don't know what it smelled like because the colognes have all changed."<br/>
<br/>
"It smelled like horseshit, that's what the past smelled like," Caleb retorts. <br/>
<br/>
"Aside from that--"<br/>
<br/>
"And who cares what the past smelled like? Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I haven't got anything else!" It seemed to make much more sense when it was Justin talking about it.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shrugs. "So give him a bottle of your aftershave. It's your funeral. Or, it will be after he stuffs you inside that capsule and sends <i>you</i> to the future. As an example of how stupid his own students could be."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, whatever. Walberg doesn't say anything when you give him a bottle of aftershave--a new and fairly expensive bottle too, so he wouldn't think you were using his capsule as a trash receptacle--and he brushes off your lame attempt to explain your choice.<br/>
<br/>
A week later the class traipses out to bury the capsule--a welcome respite from the usual lecture. "Dearly beloved and deeply bereaved, we are gathered here today--" Caleb snickers in your ear. You chortle, but choke it off when you catch Walberg glaring in your direction.<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Mansfield," the teacher says. Geoff steps forward, holding the steel box like it's a fucking sterling silver tea service, and lowers it into a deep, freshly dug hole. Then Kelsey Blankenship--that fucking, stuck-up bitch--reads a smug little speech for the occasion. Caleb's joke was on the nose: It really does feel like a parody of a funeral. <br/>
<br/>
As she drones on, you edge past Caleb and Jonas Martin and the rest of the crowd until you're next to Lisa Yarborough. Carefully, as though on accident, you brush against her. She glances at you, but doesn't otherwise react.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yeah, I saw what you did back there," Caleb snorts as the class troops back to the room.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," you growl. You're watching the back of Lisa's head, and the curls of her long, dark hair as they bob against her shoulders. You'd be walking next to her, but Mansfield had brutally cut in, pushing you away. <br/>
<br/>
Like the way he had cut in and robbed you of her company at the start of school year.<br/>
<br/>
Back in the room, Mr. Walberg taps his lectern. "And now I want a one-page paper from you all, describing what you put in the capsule and why you chose it." A collective groan goes up from the students. "Due Friday," he adds.<br/>
<br/>
Brooke Galloway's hand shoots up. "Why didn't you tell us this before," she whines. "We just buried it!"<br/>
<br/>
"So now we'll see how much thought you put into it," Walberg says with a grim smile. "If you actually thought about it, it will be an easy assignment. And if you don't remember what you put in the capsule, Miss Galloway--" He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
Some of the students snicker as Brooke reddens. You shrug too, for you have Justin's explanation to draw on, and it probably won't be too much work to work it out to a couple of paragraphs. But you have to look over at Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
He looks serene. You lean in. "So what are you going to write for him, Hef? What did you put in the capsule?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to tell him I put porn in," he quietly replies with a smile. You gape. "Sure," he snickers. "I already talked to him about what I wanted to do. He said it was a <i>brilliant</i> contribution!"<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops, and you swing around to stare at the teacher. Mr. Walberg: fat, middle-aged, sour-faced, walrus-moustached Mr. Walberg. You'd not peg him as the tolerant type.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's during the break between fifth and sixth period that you find Maize Tsosie at your locker. He was hidden in the crowd, or you'd have tried sneaking past. "Yo," he says, and his eyes are twisted up, as though you're a horrible and loathsome thing in his sight. <br/>
<br/>
"Yo yo," you tentatively reply. And before you can stop yourself: "Hula hoops and slinky toys."<br/>
<br/>
He just scowls. "Where the fuck did you say you got that book?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink. <i>That book? What book?</i><br/>
<br/>
It takes you several slightly terrified moments to figure out that he's talking about the freaky book of supposed magic, for for you'd not thought about it in almost a week. "Oh," you hastily say as his frown deepens. "Uh, Arnholm's?"<br/>
<br/>
"You askin' me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Definitely Arnholm's."<br/>
<br/>
He looks around, then leans in close. "I wanna talk to you after school. Out where I saw you last time."<br/>
<br/>
"What about?"<br/>
<br/>
He grasps you by the collar. "About that--"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Maize!" You now you do quail, for it's Jason Lynch. He stops cold, and grins, and his eyes twinkle. "Am I interrupting something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Naw." Maize releases you. "I just gotta talk to this--" His lip curls.<br/>
<br/>
But Jason is still watching you; wheels of malice spin behind his psychotic blue eyes. "Hey, I seen you around," he chortles. "Yeah, you're friends with Lamont and them." You shrug and look away. "Huh," he grunts. "Yeah, anyway--"<br/>
<br/>
You bury your face in your locker and try to shut out Lynch's voice as he talks to Maize about some baseball business. Maize mutters back monosyllabically. You're relieved when he moves off.<br/>
<br/>
But when you turn back around, Lynch is still there. "Oh yeah," he snickers. "I definitely seen you with them." He sniggers, and steps back into the surging hallway.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112
author_id: seuzz
title: An Awkward Study Session
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The only thing worse than meeting Maize, you're sure, is not meeting him. But you'd rather take your chances on not meeting him than on the certainty of keeping that appointment. You sneak off the school grounds at the end of classes as quickly as you can. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You fidget unproductively in your bedroom after school, and you fidget during dinner, and you fidget again in your room after helping clean up. You've nothing particular on your mind. You've got things you should be doing, so you're not bored. But you can't concentrate. You don't know what your problem is. It's only when you put your hand on your doorknob and get a static shock that you're able to put the foreboding feeling into words. <br/>
<br/>
It's like there's an electrical buildup somewhere, and you have the suspenseful feeling that it's going to discharge.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe onto your head.<br/>
<br/>
Without quite intending it, you call Lisa; it somehow feels like a path of least resistance, even though you've been resisting talking to her for a few weeks now. "Hey there," you say with a cheerfulness that seems to emanate from outside your own head. "Is there any chance we could get together tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, there's always a chance," she airily replies.<br/>
<br/>
You hear your own breathing. Damn her for being so flippant after what she did to you.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe she has felt your mood, for she follows it up with a more serious statement. "What did you want to get together about? I can meet."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what about for Walberg's class? We've got that paper--"<br/>
<br/>
"That's perfect. What did you put in the capsule, anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um--" <i>God, it would sound stupid over the phone.</i> "Well, that's something to talk about, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," she laughs. "How about we meet at Besandwitched?"<br/>
<br/>
"When?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whenever you can get here."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you're already--"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I've got the study group with me."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> That explains the noises you were hearing behind her voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Is there a problem, Will?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No." <i>Yes, because I wanted it to just be the two of us.</i> "Gimme twenty minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"No rush. We'll be here awhile."<br/>
<br/>
You twist over and pound the bed with your fist. No wonder she was so quick to agree to meet you. She knew she'd have her friends as a buffer. You bury your face in your pillow. Mansfield will be there too, you're sure, arm draped around her shoulder. But now you can't not show up, no matter how much torture it will be.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Besandwitched is a New Age-themed sandwich shop over by the Keyserling College campus. You'd never have thought such a thing possible--what does the occult have to do with sandwiches?--but there it is, and there it's been for almost thirty years, and it only takes you twenty minutes to get there. You stand in the doorway, gazing inside with a brooding presentiment, even though you spot Lisa's group almost immediately at one of the booths in the middle of the restaurant.<br/>
<br/>
There are six of them. Lisa is sitting on one side of the table, facing you, and yes--you have to sigh--Geoff Mansfield is squeezed between her and a partition, with his arm around her shoulder. On her other side is Martin Gardinhire, one of Geoff's friends. You can guess with a sinking heart who the other three are, though you can only see the backs of their heads. You wonder where you're going to sit, since they take up the entire table.<br/>
<br/>
It puzzles them, too, when you materialize to stand uncertainly at the table. "Hi guys," you say in a voice that sounds depressed even in your own ears. With all the plates and baskets, there isn't even any room on the table for anything you might order.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa smiles at you. Geoff's lips curl up in a faint smirk. Martin regards you coolly from under skeptically arched eyebrows. You look at the other side of the table. <i>Worse and worse.</i> "Hi Will," Kelsey Blankenship says in a faintly cutting tone, and sips from her coffee without looking up at you. Next to her, Amanda Ferguson doesn't even give you that much of a greeting. And on the other side of Amanda, Ricky Golia looks back at you with blank bafflement.<br/>
<br/>
There's a long pause. Kelsey doesn't move, and her lack of movement is as ostentatious as she can make it. Martin clears his throat, and then scoots over a little, which has the effect of pushing Lisa and Geoff even closer together. You can't help noticing that Geoff tightens his hold on Lisa as she snuggles up by his side. "We're going to have the fire marshal on our asses," Amanda says as you settle down next to Martin.<br/>
<br/>
"So, Will," Lisa says, leaning around Martin to dimple at you. <i>Damn her--again--for being such a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty while not being your girlfriend.</i> "You must have had a really clever idea for the time capsule."<br/>
<br/>
<i>I gave him a bottle of aftershave.</i> As bad as it sounds inside your own skull, it would sound a million times worse in front of these people. "What did you give him?" you reply, temporizing.<br/>
<br/>
"Some predictions I found on the internet, of what life would be like in a hundred years," she says. "You?"<br/>
<br/>
You just look at the others. No one says anything for a moment. "Some spurs that belonged to my grandfather," Kelsey says with a sniff.<br/>
<br/>
"He was a cowboy?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"He was from Arizona," she replies sharply, "and he was the chief of staff for Barry Goldwater for seventeen years. And they're silver spurs." You wince back from her outburst.<br/>
<br/>
"I put in an iPod with some contemporary political speeches and some political podcasts," Geoff says from the other end of the table. "Bought it special for the project." <i>Fucking show off,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
You shift uncomfortably, and Martin apparently thinks you've nudged him. "Currency," he says. "US hundred dollar bill. Some euros, yen, renminbi, won, rubles. And you?" He lifts his cup to his lips, but doesn't drink.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart crumples up and caves in, like a Styrofoam cup. "Some aftershave."<br/>
<br/>
No one says anything, until Amanda raises her hand. "Can we get some coffee over here?" she calls in a loud voice. "I'm suddenly drowsy from boredom." Your fingers curl under the table, and your toes curl in your shoes.<br/>
<br/>
"That's interesting, Will," Lisa says. Her voice is bright and friendly, but there's no missing the note of strain in it. "Can you tell us why you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?" Amanda cuts in. "What happened to--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ursula? She's on break." You do a double-take at the server, who has seemingly blinked into existence right by your elbow. He's young--probably about your age--and crisply but casually dressed in a white button down shirt and cream trousers, and has a dirty napkin elaborately draped over his forearm. He fills Amanda's cup from a great height without spilling a drop. He grins as he does so, and his eyes glint from under shaggy blonde hair. <br/>
<br/>
Kelsey frowns and cranes her neck to look off into a corner. "Weren't you sitting over there?" she asks. You crane your neck to follow her gaze, toward a table where a dark-haired student sits. He stares moodily at your table.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," the server says. "But I'm filling in. Much against my will. She cast a spell on me." His eyes go glassy and cross-eyed. Kelsey snorts. But he continues. "So you noticed me over there? I noticed you." His eyes flit around the table. "One couple, two couples." His smile brightens as his glance falls on you and Martin. "Maybe three, since everyone's gotten so broadminded lately?" His glance returns to Kelsey. "That leaves you the odd girl out. Got room for me at this little klatsch?" His smile widens even as Kelsey's eyes narrow. "Maybe room for a little love potion in your cup?" He tilts the carafe over her mug, but she puts her hand over it. It's got to be your imagination, but it seems like a stream of coffee has reversed itself and slid back up the spout. <br/>
<br/>
"I liked the other server better," Kelsey snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"Ursula's sweet, but she doesn't believe in magic. Not the old, real black magic." He steps away so quickly you barely have time to register his movement before he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"This place just gets creepier and creepier," Amanda shudders. "I don't know why we come."<br/>
<br/>
"I never liked it," you say, and glance around. The walls are black, with white moons and stars and suns and pentagrams painted haphazardly on them.<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing wrong with this place," Kelsey archly says. "Except the people they hire. Or let in through the door." You notice she has glanced at you as she says this.<br/>
<br/>
All at once something in you snaps. "Well, maybe if you'd gotten a good look at real magic you'd see what's wrong with it," you hotly declare, just for the sake of arguing.<br/>
<br/>
And several people laugh all at once. "The fuck are you talking about, Prescott," Geoff barks. "You've seen real magic?"<br/>
<br/>
"I found this weird-ass book," you retort before you can stop yourself. "And it-- Oh, fuck you."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I wanna hear about this," Geoff chortles back. "It sounds more interesting than aftershave."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw tightens. "It was this book, and it had these weird faces in it, and you had to put blood in it, and--" You look around the table, and your face reddens. They are looking at you like you're crazy. As well they should. "I don't know why I came here," you say, and stalk from the table. Geoff's mocking laugh follows you.<br/>
<br/>
You're in your truck, and have pulled back into the street. You are just about to shove the stick into "Drive" when you glance in the rearview mirror.<br/>
<br/>
That crazy server is standing right behind your fender, glowing in the dark like an apparition. You wheel around to look directly at him, but the street is empty. You swallow. <i>Crazy imagination.</i><br/>
<br/>
You'd really like to shut Geoff up. Only way to do that, though, would be to get the book back from Justin so you can show it to him.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121
author_id: seuzz
title: A Date with Three Guys
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You have no idea what classes Justin takes or where to find him. You don't even know where his locker is. And you don't want to go looking for Maize or Perry. You keep your eyes peeled for Roth in the hallways, and ask a few acquaintances if they know where to find him, but they all shrug.<br/>
<br/>
Not until fifth period, with time nearly running out, do you get an inspiration. When classes end you head back over to Walberg's. Dane Matthias is wedged high in the doorway, back against one sill and his bare feet pressed against the other. "Prescott!" he gasps, as though you're an apparition. "What're <i>you</i> doin' here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Looking for you, Dane. Actually--"<br/>
<br/>
"No shit! I'm popular today!" He licks a fingertip and jabs it boastfully in the air. "First Walberg and then you!"<br/>
<br/>
You glance past him into the classroom. It's empty. "Yeah, um, you have detention with him, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" He gasps again. "So, like, I'm all walkin' along, mindin' my own business--" He tries miming a saunter, and falls out of the doorway onto the ground. But he bounds back up, loose flannel shorts and too-big jacket flapping. "And sudden-like, old walrus butt grabs me outta nowhere! Fuck. Me!" He grasps his head with both hands and bends double. <br/>
<br/>
Then he giggles. "Totally forgot I had a meeting with him." He pads over to a seat and crawls into it the hard way, over the desk top, twisting and grunting into the chair. Then he looks back up at you, blinking hard, as though trying to place who you are and what you're doing there.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you say slowly. "Have you seen Justin Roth around? Know where I can find him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Justin?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Justin."<br/>
<br/>
"Justin?" he repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Justin Roth."<br/>
<br/>
He mulls this. He stares glassily over your shoulder. His eyes go out of focus. He looks back at you. "Roth?"<br/>
<br/>
You lean over him. "Dane. Where is Justin Roth?"<br/>
<br/>
His face twists up fearfully. "Don't ask me trick questions, man. I got, like--" He grinds the heel of his hand into an eye.<br/>
<br/>
"You looking for me?" a voice says behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You ricochet off the ceiling and land almost four feet away, on the other side of the row of desks, heart hammering. Justin Roth is standing next to Dane, not six inches from where you just were. His eyes are wide. "Christ, Prescott, you should go out for track!"<br/>
<br/>
"How long have you been--?" you squeak.<br/>
<br/>
"A minute or two."<br/>
<br/>
You look at Dane. He's hunched over the desk, his head buried under his arms. "Yeah," you stammer as you try to calm your still-racing pulse. "You remember that book I sold you? Last week?" If Justin is as stoned as Dane, this is going to be really fun conversation.<br/>
<br/>
But he looks sober enough, and nods.<br/>
<br/>
"I was wondering if I could borrow it back."<br/>
<br/>
His face tightens. "What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Show it to some people?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just some guys."<br/>
<br/>
"You interested in it again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we were talking about magic and shit, and I mentioned I'd found this book--"<br/>
<br/>
"Magic?" he asks. "What makes you think that book has anything to do with magic?"<br/>
<br/>
Again, you're discomfited at how sharp he can be even when he's got a stupid expression on his face. "Um ... Well, it just seemed like ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
You swallow, and take your life in your hands. "It just seemed like it might be magical."<br/>
<br/>
Justin stares at you a very long time. A gleam slowly comes into his eye. "Huh. Yeah, I'll let you take a look at it. Maybe let you borrow it." A little smile creeps up the side of his face. "You'll have to come get it."<br/>
<br/>
"When?"<br/>
<br/>
"Now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay."<br/>
<br/>
Dane groans without raising his head. Justin glances down at him. "No, not now. Five?" he asks. Dane groans again. "Seven." A shorter grunt from Dane. "And let's make it Tsosie's place. You know where that is?" You shake your head, and he gives you an address. "We'll have pizza or something, so don't eat."<br/>
<br/>
"Pizza!" Dane shouts, raising his head. "I could really go for some pizza right about now!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You almost call Justin to cancel, because you don't want to see Maize, and you don't like the neighborhood you find yourself in. Lotta crummy apartments and duplexes, only a block or two from a run-down industrial zone. His place, when you find it, turns out to be a little cinderblock shack, looking like it has no more than three rooms. At best.<br/>
<br/>
And that's what it proves to have: A tiny living room with a kitchenette in the corner and a door leading to a bedroom. It smells awful--there's crap all over the floor and on the sofa, which stinks of mildew--and only one of the overhead bulbs lights. Tsosie, when he opens the door, only gives you a brief, hard look before letting you in.<br/>
<br/>
It's just him and Perry and Justin, sitting on the floor. The latter grins at you and nudges Small. "Toldja he'd show. Gotta show a little faith in people, man."<br/>
<br/>
"No one likes a smart ass," Small says. He looks at you, but his glance is mild.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey guys. So, that book?" You'd like to get out of here as fast as possible.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the rush," Justin asks. "You just got here. Sit. Pizza'll be here in ten."<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I already ate."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker. I told you not to."<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanted to borrow that book from you."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be an asshole, Prescott. Sit." Roth's tone is heavy. Dangerous.<br/>
<br/>
So you sit. Gingerly. The floor--a thin, worn, hard carpet--is stained.<br/>
<br/>
The other three stare at you. Justin's gaze is appraising. Perry's is keen. Maize's is overtly hostile. No, that's not quite true. There's a little fear in it. <i>Of what,</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
Justin takes out a pack of cigarettes, pounds one out, lights it with a quick flick of a lighter, and blows out a thick stream of smoke. "So you wanna borrow that book back. Cost ya."<br/>
<br/>
"Cost me what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, your share of the pizza, for starters."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I ate."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't matter." He lights a fringe of thread sticking out of a hole in his jeans, and pats it out. Lights it again. Pats it out. "Cost you more than that, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, maybe I don't wanna borrow the book," you say, and start to get up.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you wanna get laid?"<br/>
<br/>
That stops you cold. You look at the three of them, and feel your cheeks pale. "What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
Justin laughs--a hacking sound. "Don't you think I'm sexy, Prescott?" He takes another drag. "Or maybe Small is more your type. Or Tsosie? Whaddaya think, Maize?" He cranes his head back to look at Tsosie, who's perched behind him. "Give Prescott a blow job?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, man." Tsosie's eyes glitter.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you guys are high if you think--"<br/>
<br/>
"We ain't high," Roth says. "The night's young, and the pizza's on its way. But I'm just jerkin' your chain. 'Cept about you gettin' laid. That's on the level. Gotta girl in the bedroom. You interested?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have a--" you start to say, but the words freeze in your throat. Looking at the three of these guys, here, talking like this ... You have to believe them. "I don't want--"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't wanna get laid? Someone already pop your cherry? Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"If I wanted to get laid--" Your voice comes out in a squeak. "Not like this."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you want <i>romance,</i>" Roth laughs. "Kind of a tall order, under the circumstances. Would <i>affection</i> be enough?" His eyes crinkle with amusement, and he looks back at Tsosie. "Think you could be an <i>affectionate</i> squaw?"<br/>
<br/>
Maize balls his fists, and even at this distance you can see him tremble. You don't understand why he doesn't punch Roth.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I don't want to borrow the book," you say firmly, and now you are on your feet. <br/>
<br/>
"Cost ya <i>not</i> to borrow it, too," Roth says. "But come on. You're <i>curious,</i> Prescott. Admit it."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd like to know what you think you're fucking doing," you say in a trembling voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll show you." <br/>
<br/>
Justin puts the cigarette in his mouth, and the smoke wraps demonically about his head as he squints at you. From his side he draws out a pack of cards and gives it an expert series of shuffles and bridges. He cuts it and flashes an upturned card at Small. He bites on the cigarette and grins. "Beat a king, asshole."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not playing against <i>you,</i>" Perry snarls.<br/>
<br/>
"Then you automatically lose. It's your turn anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck." Perry cuts the deck, and groans at the resulting card.<br/>
<br/>
Justin cuts again, and shows Maize the result. "Lucky break, Tsosie. Four beats a three."<br/>
<br/>
Perry gets heavily to his feet and shuffles into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. You're tempted to run, but Roth is right: You're curious. You lick your lips nervously as you wait. "What happens now?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's gone to get the girl. You'll like her. She'll like you." Roth stubs out the cigarette in the carpet. "She fucking better." The stream of smoke he blows out hangs in the air like a shroud.<br/>
<br/>
The pizza comes while you're waiting, but Tsosie just takes it into the kitchen. He stays there, out of sight. Neither you nor Roth speak again, and he doesn't demand any money from you.<br/>
<br/>
Then the bedroom door opens, and a girl comes out. She's big, but in a plush kind of way, and it takes you a moment to place her name. Victoria Rodriguez.<br/>
<br/>
She's wearing nothing but an over-large flannel shirt, but it hangs down far enough to cover her ass and pussy, though not much else. "Hey, Will," she says with a wide smile, and walks over on swinging hips. "Wanna fool around?" She draws up close, and she smells <i>wonderful.</i></span></div></div>


path: 113311211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Lay of the Land
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You swallow hard as Victoria pads closer on bare feet. "Hi," you squeak.<br/>
<br/>
"Hi yourself." She draws so close the tips of her enormous breasts touch you. Her mouth hovers only inches from yours. "I've been waiting for you," she says in a softly croaking voice. "You took <i>forever</i> to get here. I've been so bored. But you'll make me happy now, won't you, Will?" Her lips brush lightly over yours. "Fuck me, Will? Fuck me?"<br/>
<br/>
Your cock springs up so hard and so fast it hurts. Your lips tremble. Your mind whirs, gears refusing to engage. But you've one thought, so hard and bright it's like a blazing wall of white directly in front of your eyes, blinding you even to her face. <i>This isn't right.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Of course it's alright, Will," Victoria says, and you twitch to realize you said it out loud. "There's nothing wrong here." She slips an arm around your waist and turns to look at Justin. "I like being here. I like these guys." She puts her head against your cheek, and her hair tickles. "I love these guys." She turns her head to peer up at you, her nose touching your cheek. "And you're here now, with these guys. I love you too." She groans, and clasps her hands around you. "I'd love it if you fucked me. Please?"<br/>
<br/>
"I--"<br/>
<br/>
Justin lights another cigarette. "Come on, Prescott. She's <i>begging</i> you for it. You ever had a girl beg you to give it to her? Slip your cock into her? Pump her full of your cum? Fuck, man, that's the <i>hottest</i> thing."<br/>
<br/>
You can certainly agree that it's hot in here. You're sweating, hard. And you're dizzy. Victoria tugs at you, and your knees buckle. She catches you with a giggle. "You're so <i>cute,</i> Will. You don't have to fuck me. Just get on the bed with me. I want to be with you. Rub myself all over you."<br/>
<br/>
Well, there wouldn't be anything wrong with <i>that,</i> would there? Your legs wobble as you let her draw you toward the bedroom. Justin snickers behind you, and then Victoria shuts the door.<br/>
<br/>
It stinks in here, too, the musky smell of a teenage boy who never cleans up after himself. The room is dark, so you feel rather than see as she pushes you onto the bed, which bed sags and groans, and you desperately push away thoughts of what kinds of fluid--and how much of them--have saturated it. She lifts one of your feet to pull off a sneaker, and lifts the other to do the same. She peels your socks off. Then she crawls on top of you, straddling you between her legs. She parts the long-sleeved shirt you're wearing unbuttoned over a t-shirt and pulls it off you; you come to life long enough to wriggle out of it. She runs her hands up under your t-shirt and strokes your stomach and chest. "Mm, that feels so good. Does it feel good to you, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh yeah.</i> To have someone touch and stroke you, there, like that. You arch your bag and shift your hips, for your cock is now straining against the front of your cargo pants. She unbuttons them and draws them down, and your cock pops out. "Oh, is that--?" She touches it with her open palm (which is a little cold). "Oh, wow. Oh, <i>Will!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
A little whinnying giggle seeps out the back of your throat.<br/>
<br/>
She pulls your pants the rest of the way off, and peels your underwear down, and then--for she's in a flurry of activity--she pushes your t-shirt up over your head. You raise your arms so she can get it off. And then you're naked, tense, and quivering with near-hysterical anticipation. <br/>
<br/>
And fear, if you were being totally honest.<br/>
<br/>
She rises onto her knees and unbuttons her shirt and casts it off. Your eyes have adjusted enough to the dark, now, and you can make her out. Yes, she is plump, but it's a plumpness with firmness and curves, and your trembling hands go to her hips. She squeaks. "Are my hands cold?" you ask, and pull them back.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but I know how to make them warm." She grasps them and plunges them between her thighs. You jerk them back, then relax and let her guide them back there. "Ooh!" she gasps, and then begins to stroke them with her own while pressing them deeper toward herself. Your fingers brush her bush, and flick nervously at it. She waddles up on her knees, closer to you, and your cock springs up from under to rest, fully erect, against her ass. <br/>
<br/>
Then she falls forward onto you and wraps her arms around you. She touches your lips again, and you're kissing, deeply, slowly, wetly. You wrap your own arms around her and stroke her back. She gasps and then begins to nibble at you, and bite you. You nibble and bite back. <br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, Will, I think I'm--" She gasps and raises back up. "Quick, get it inside me! Get it--!" She raises up, and with one hand guides your penis to her pussy and slides onto it. "Oh, you're so big! So hard and hot and--!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes! Yes you are! You're hard and hot, and you're here, and it's now, and the moment, it's coming, it's coming, it's coming, it's--!</i><br/>
<br/>
And for a seeming eternity it is <i>now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now</i> and it's the same shriek from her, over and over and over again.<br/>
<br/>
Your head falls back onto the pillow and stars explode behind eyelids squeezed tightly shut. And then the world is very warm and liquid and dark ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're very cold when you awake, and very stiff, though not down <i>there.</i> You sit up with a great, heavy groan. The room is black, and--<br/>
<br/>
You feel around the bed, but it's empty. "Victoria?" you softly call. No answer. "Hello?" There's no sound but the soft, heavy thump of music from the living room.<br/>
<br/>
You fall back and let out a deep sigh. That was amazing. You've never done it before. Well, you got a clumsy blow job at summer camp about two years ago, but it was a mortifying experience. This? This was-- You put an arm behind your head. <i>Yeah, you feel like a man now.</i> You're gonna go back out there in that living room, and you're gonna be able to hold your head up high. Fuck 'em, man. Roth and Tsosie and Small and--<br/>
<br/>
You bolt upright. Small went into the bedroom, and Victoria came out. But Small never showed back up again. <i>Was he in here this whole time? Was he jacking off while you and Victoria were--?</i> You never heard anything, but all your attention was on her.<br/>
<br/>
And where is she? The room is empty.<br/>
<br/>
You scramble out of the bed and feel around until you've got all your stuff, and you pull it on a rush. You grab the bedroom door and jerk it open.<br/>
<br/>
Tsosie's sitting on the back of the couch, and Small is crouching against a wall. Neither one moves as you step out. Hanging off the end of the sofa are Roth's feet. You creep up and look down. He's staring intently at the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't bother him, man," Tsosie says quietly. "He's in a better place."<br/>
<br/>
"Wh-- Where's Victoria?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gone, man. Have fun?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gone? Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't matter. She did her job."<br/>
<br/>
"Her <i>job?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Quiet!" Tsosie hisses. Roth raises his arm and points at the ceiling. Maize takes his hand and gently starts to stroke it. "Get out."<br/>
<br/>
You gape. Perry slides up the wall to his feet and beckons to you to follow him outside. There, under a burning orange porch light, he drops a heavy arm onto your shoulder. "So, was it fun?"<br/>
<br/>
You stare back at him, open-mouthed. "What the hell was that? And where were <i>you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"In the living room with Maize."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit. I didn't see you come out of the bedroom."<br/>
<br/>
"You were too wrapped in Victoria to notice."<br/>
<br/>
You waver. Maybe he's right. Still, you can't help feeling that you've been <i>used</i> somehow. "What did Tsosie mean, about her doing her job?"<br/>
<br/>
"She had a job to do and she did it. That's all. You didn't think that was <i>real,</i> did you?" he snickers.<br/>
<br/>
Your nostrils flare.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, don't feel bad, man. Take what comes, and cum in who takes ya. And you gotta be feelin' better than Roth in there. Shit, I don't envy <i>him.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"So what <i>was</i> all this about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told ya, don't worry about it. Oh, and another thing." He fiddles with your collar. "If you see Victoria tomorrow, don't say anything to her. Don't even look at her. She's got a boyfriend, you know, and he'll paint the inside of his locker with your guts if you even breathe a <i>word</i> in her direction about tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you <i>do</i> to her?" You're starting to feel sick.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothin', man. In fact, it's like she wasn't even here." He laughs dryly at the back of his throat. "But you had fun, I could hear." You don't deign to reply. "And you got what you wanted."<br/>
<br/>
You've the presence of mind to argue, and the motivation. "No I didn't."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't wanna get laid?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to borrow that book back!" After what you've been through, you're not leaving empty handed.<br/>
<br/>
"Cost ya."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>What did I just pay for?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You just paid for <i>not</i> borrowing the book." He grins. "Like I-- I mean, like Roth said, it'll cost ya <i>to</i> borrow the book."<br/>
<br/>
You snort. "How much?"<br/>
<br/>
He leans over to whisper in your ear. "You'll have to get laid <i>as many times as we want you to.</i>" He straightens back up. "So, you wanna borrow it? Come talk to us after school tomorrow. Portables."<br/>
<br/>
He pushes you away and goes back inside. You can hear the lock turning with a click.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Secret About the Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're distracted all day at school, distracted by thoughts of sex, even more so than usual. You're drawn to the temptation that Perry laid before you, and repulsed by it; you're frightened of it and attracted by it. You come to no conscious decision by the end of the day, and it's like you're standing outside yourself, watching yourself, as your feet, when the final bell rings, take you down E wing and out the door and over to the portables. You stumble a little as you go around a corner and find Justin and Perry and Maize standing in a loose knot at the same place you'd found them last week. Justin looks up, and his face is a little pale, and his smile fades in and out. "Hey, there he is," he says. "Didn't malinger, either."<br/>
<br/>
"So, are you in?" Perry asks.<br/>
<br/>
You lick your lips, and your eyes dart over their faces. All of them, even Perry, look a little nervous. They can't be nearly as nervous as you, though.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't get what you're asking me," you stammer. "I don't get what you said last night."<br/>
<br/>
"What did I say?"<br/>
<br/>
"You said-- If I wanted to borrow the book, I'd have to--" It still makes no sense, but you repeat it anyway, so he can tell you that you misheard. "That I'd have to get laid as many times as you wanted me to."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," Perry says. Justin gives him a slightly startled look.<br/>
<br/>
"What does that mean?" you whine.<br/>
<br/>
"It means you get laid. When and where and with whoever we tell you to."<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to <i>make</i> me have sex?" you gasp. You like the thought of having sex, but of being forced to have it, possibly with girls who-- You swallow. You certainly hope it's girls that they're talking about.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's kind of a <i>bargain</i> you'd make with us," Justin says, taking over from Small. "You can have sex whenever you like, with whoever. But you have to pay a price, by also having it with people we name." He shrugs. "You don't take the sex, you don't have to pay the price."<br/>
<br/>
"But you got it on last night," Perry says with a nasty smile. "So you owe us <i>one.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't owe <i>anything</i> for last night," Justin retorts. "That was a freebie."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you saying--?" Perry starts to ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I am, and are you gonna argue?" Justin's voice scrapes the bottom of its already deep register. Perry makes a face, and shrugs. Justin looks over at you. "If you wanna know what's goin' on, Prescott, you'll have to come with us."<br/>
<br/>
This is another chance to back out, but you had that chance before--to just not meet them. And you'd also like to know what's going on, on the same principle that if there's a wasps' nest in the house, you'd like to know where it is. You shrug in a way that indicates acquiescence.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind up back at Tsosie's place. "He lives here by himself," Justin says when you ask about his folks. "Mom's over on the other side of town. Don't ask him about his dad."<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't look any cleaner or more inviting in the late afternoon light than it did in the dark last night. Tsosie offers you a beer, which you accept out of a sense of hospitality, and he stays in the kitchenette while the other two drop onto the sofa. You stand awkwardly by the window next to the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so, you didn't try talking to Victoria today, did you?" Justin asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No." Even without Perry's warning, you'd have been too freaked out to try. "How did you get her to do it? Is it some kind of mind control thing? That book--" You decide to be blunt. "It's fucking magic, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck me, yeah," Justin says, and rubs his forehead. "Thought at first I was just havin' a trip, but these dudes here confirmed it was real."<br/>
<br/>
"So it's mind control?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, not exactly. Just lemme get the dingus, and I'll show you."<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna freak him out," Perry says in a warning tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but it'll get the point across faster." Roth rises with a grunt and beckons you to follow him into the bedroom. It's as disordered and smelly as last night. <br/>
<br/>
"What's this about freaking me out," you cautiously ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Look, <i>don't</i> freak out. It'll be okay. Just come out when it's done."<br/>
<br/>
His mysterious words are not reassuring, and you're still not reassured when he pushes you back onto the bed. He rubs his nose and reaches for your belt and undoes it and the top button of your jeans. "The fuck are you doing?" you cry, and slap his hands away.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't <i>freak</i>, Prescott," he snarls. "I got a headache and you're not helping. 'M not gonna molest you. You just don't wanna be done up so tight when--" He breaks off.<br/>
<br/>
You loosen your pants but don't draw them off, and watch fearfully as Roth opens a dresser drawer. From it he draws a thin, oval object, about the size of a dinner plate. He holds it up to show you.<br/>
<br/>
It's a mask, shining a brilliant blue and shimmering in the dim light. It has a nose and chin and cheeks and a brow, but no eyeholes. It is otherwise featureless. "Okay, I'm going to put this on you," he says. "It'll make you woozy, and maybe even knock you out for a bit. Then you're gonna wake up. You'll freak, but then you're gonna stop freaking, okay?" He gives you a hard, sharp look. "You're gonna look at yourself in that mirror, and then you're gonna come out and see us."<br/>
<br/>
And without another moment's hesitation he pushes it into your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's the pinching in your hips that wakes you. Something is tightly binding you down there, and through the woolly remnants of sleep you struggle to push off the jeans. You bend your naked legs and rub them when you're free. You push your hair out of your face. Where are you?<br/>
<br/>
You gasp and sit up and look wildly around. The bed is empty, and sunlight is filtering through the filthy curtains. It was night the last thing you remember, and being in bed with--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh God, you were fucking Will Prescott!</i><br/>
<br/>
Vertigo seizes you and you bury your face in your hands. Last night's scene replays itself, but this time from both sides. Watching as <i>you</i> came out of the bedroom and cooed soft things and drew <i>yourself</i> into the bedroom where you took off <i>your</i> clothes and then took off <i>your</i> clothes and then stroked yourself and stroked yourself back and then slid your cock up your pussy and rode up and down until one of you came. And then you'd put a mask onto yourself--<br/>
<br/>
You raise your head. <i>Mask.</i> <br/>
<br/>
After that, you'd pulled at your face, and that's the last thing you remember until you woke up again and went out and talked to Perry and Maize and left to go to home.<br/>
<br/>
You know exactly what you'll see when you look down. Victoria Rodriguez's thighs and calves and-- You leave the t-shirt, which now tightly binds your prodigious chest, in place. And as Justin predicted, you go to the mirror. Her broad face--not beautiful, exactly, but pretty enough in a bold, come-hither kind of way--looks back. Your long, loosely curled black hair tumbles about your shoulders, and you brush it back your fingers. <i>God, you're a mess.</i><br/>
<br/>
And this isn't the first time you've stared at yourself here, in this way. And Prescott isn't the first guy you've--<br/>
<br/>
You shudder. If Joey knew what you'd been getting up to in here, how you'd been cheating on him. You sniffle. If only Joey could come here and save you. But you never leave this house, haven't left it since you'd suddenly found yourself here when you'd just been at the school, walking around the portables.<br/>
<br/>
And cheating, did you say? Yes, enthusiastically, too. Fucking not only Will Prescott that one time, but Justin Roth and Perry Small and Maize Tsosie, fucking them long and hard and affectionately. They're out there now, waiting for you--<br/>
<br/>
For you, Will Prescott, to step out there, looking like Victoria Rodriguez.<br/>
<br/>
You shudder. But there's nothing to do but meet them.<br/>
<br/>
Two grave faces turn as you open the door: Perry and Maize. You tremble, but rally a little. "Okay," you say in a small voice. "I am really freaked out, but I'm not going to scream or anything, I promise."<br/>
<br/>
"Good," Perry says. He pats the sofa next to himself. You gulp, but sit stiffly down. "Now," he says, and puts an arm around you. "It's not mind control, Prescott. It's just a disguise. Perfect disguise. You look just like Victoria, and you've got all her memories and stuff. Right? As we as the, um, plumbing." You nod. "But it's still you. Underneath. And we can take it off you, and we will. We can't have two Victorias walking around, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess not."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. But that copy of her is pretty useful, if you wanna get laid. Someone else puts it on, and then you can fuck Victoria. Like you fucked her last night."<br/>
<br/>
The penny drops. "Jesus, that was-- That was <i>you</i> last night! I fucked--" You gulp. "I fucked <i>you!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You fucked one of us. And now, technically, you owe someone a tumble <i>as</i> Victoria."<br/>
<br/>
You almost faint. "You mean I'd have to--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd be gentle," a voice says from the bedroom. You look back, and your vision reels.<br/>
<br/>
Will Prescott is standing there. He must have come out of the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
"First time, it's a little easier when it's yourself doing the penetrating," Perry murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, I can't--" you shriek.<br/>
<br/>
"Too late, you're in," Perry says in a hard voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he could pay a different price," Will Prescott says.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? You mean he still gets outta--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. We still gotta make that trip to the cemetery."</span></div></div>


path: 11331121111
author_id: rugal
title: Dizzy Up the Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll do it." You say, mutter really, while looking down at the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Whazzat?" asks Perry craning his neck in an exaggerated attempt to hear you.<br/>
<br/>
You take a breath and look up and stare him in the face. Victoria is gossipy and a cunt, two things that leave her just outside of the upper-echelons of Westside as unlike similar bitches such as Chelsea, Kelsey, or Almida she doesn't have an appended title like "Head Cheerleader", "Hyper-Ambitious Rich Girl", or "Girl's Basketball Team Captain" to help overcome that; which is a joke you, she, thinks on Almida's part because the girl's team is ass. As a result Victoria has developed a fairly take-no-shit attitude, an iron resolve that allows her to stand toe-to-toe with the Chelsea Coopers and Kelsey Blankenships of the world and not give an inch. It'd be admirable if she wouldn't act exactly like them if given the same opportunities and positions.<br/>
<br/>
Still it's a resolve that you're drawing on to even go along with this. "I said I'll do it." you reply rather brusquely before gesturing over to Prescott, "Or rather, I'll do him. Again."<br/>
<br/>
"Again?" Perry asks, "But you're--"<br/>
<br/>
"Victoria Rodriguez. You should consider yourselves lucky I'm doing this." you sniff, folding your arms under your large chest.<br/>
<br/>
Prescott begins laughing, "We never bother getting that into character. Damn Maize, this chick's a bitch."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, I'm serious." Maize replies with a grim seriousness.<br/>
<br/>
"You really have to stop taking all of this so personally." Perry says, "Anyway I can't have you mad 'cause I'm gonna need your help."<br/>
<br/>
Maize turns to him in surprise, "I'm not going to a graveyard to throw dirt in a bag. You're kidding yourself if you think I'm going out there with you." he protests.<br/>
<br/>
"Suit yourself." Perry shrugs, "I mean if you want out..."<br/>
<br/>
You see Maize ready to reply but jump in before he does. "I'll reward you, Maize." you flash a smile and bat your eyelashes a bit, a cheesy gesture to be sure, "You know you're my favorite. Almost as good as Joey."<br/>
<br/>
It's true too, to an extent. Victoria, or the fascimile of her contained in the mask, does <i>not</i> like this situation but at the same time of the options she has Maize is the best. Justin is cold, almost by the book; like he's getting off to get off. Perry is disappointing, sloppy and unfocused leaving you unfulfilled. Will was sloppy as well but at least he was rather earnest even if you had to take the lead. But Maize... Maize is more tender, more passionate and affectionate. He takes his time and knows how to please you in a way that's only surpassed by Joe.<br/>
<br/>
And for his part Maize just glares at you. There's a pile of emotions written on his face and he's having trouble sifting through it all before he finally grunts. "Fine, I'll help you but don't think I'm going to jump at the opportunity to join in with your little gay-ass fetish bullshit."<br/>
<br/>
After he storms out the front door Perry just smirks, "I should take him to blow some steam off before we go out there. You guys do what you do."<br/>
<br/>
Finally it's just you and him: Justin Roth, Will Prescott... yourself. "So are we doing this or what?" you ask in a rather annoyed tone.<br/>
<br/>
Prescott laughs again. "You really <i>are</i> enjoying getting into character aren't you?" he asks with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't say I'm enjoying it. This whole situation is freaking me out internally and putting on Victoria's personality, her mental mask I guess, is the only thing stopping me from freaking out <i>externally</i>."<br/>
<br/>
With another chuckle Prescott grabs you by the hand and leads you into the bedroom and lays you onto the mattress, you shudder because god it's disgusting, As he removes your shirt he mutters something that, through the rustling, you can't quite hear. "I said wouldn't it be better if Lisa was here instead?" he says after you ask and you stop.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Will just shrugs, "I was thinking that we need more than Victoria here if we really want to have fun." You don't like the sound of that. "Lisa'd be good, don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
You shudder. You'd want to be with Lisa but... "No. Just... just no."<br/>
<br/>
"Suit yourself." he replies and those are the last words said by either of you for quite a while.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
School the next day is rather boring and uneventful; especially after yesterday. You'd had Victoria's memories but the actual feeling, doing it yourself... you wondered if that's why these guys were willing to quite literally get fucked as it felt amazing. Compared to that being Will Prescott again to hang out with your dorky friends seems almost quaint. That is until you're accosted by Dane in the hallways who asks you to meet up with him after school. You find him standing right outside front doors of the school, not having detention with Walberg for once, and he asks if you want to go out to the old elementary school.<br/>
<br/>
You ask how he knows that and he just smiles and says he knows lots of things: like you fucked Victoria Rodriguez yesterday. That tips you off and a quick question confirms that it's Justin under there. He mentions how he learned about the elementary school after wearing your mask and figures it'd make a good safehouse that's not Maize's place. As you enter he tells you he wants to show you something and pulls out a mask, newly created he says, and he wants you to be the first to try it on. You're unsure but in Dane's form he's able to put you at ease and so you place the mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
What happened? You were hanging out with Dane by the portables at lunch, gentle and sweet Dane you sigh, when he said he had something to show you and that's when things went black. You've gotten pretty stoned, you've done a few psychedelics, but you usually don't have memory lapses in the middle of school like that.<br/>
<br/>
"How is it?" Dane grins.<br/>
<br/>
"It's just like when I woke up as Victoria. Maybe it gets easier as you do it more but that initial shock... I lose myself." your voice is airy and gentle, like a soft breeze that tickles your skin. And your thought process is definitely different as well. At the moment you're not Will Prescott but Ceres Kesey, a modern flower child, the daughter of former hippie and new age parents who sold out to live the yuppie lifestyle. It's been a bone of contention for much of Ceres' life and by middle school she had jumped in where they had jumped out as a form of teenage rebellion. Her parents think it's a phase but she'd like to think it's for real.<br/>
<br/>
Ceres cuts an almost angelic figure, long flowing light brown hair, long flowing clothing, innocent doe-eyes. She likes to think of herself as a messenger of the Earth and love and new life much like her namesake.<br/>
<br/>
"It was easy to grab her, I guess." you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Her and Dane were a thing. They still smoke, still do shrooms, even still fuck occasionally." Dane replies. It's a manner of talking from him that neither you or Ceres are familiar with.<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm but you know, being in here is nice. Ceres... I hadn't really heard of her before this but it's just so... soothing." you say.<br/>
<br/>
"You like it, huh?" Dane asks. "Actually I've got a proposal for you if you're willing to listen."<br/>
<br/>
"I am." you reply lightly.<br/>
<br/>
Dane nods, "Good, then here's the plan. Ceres is a pretty girl no doubt. She's a bit... open but she doesn't put out at all for me or Small or Tsosie. She doesn't like us or about as much as it's possible for her to not like someone. Girl tries to see the positives in anyone."<br/>
<br/>
"So she's another girl to add with Victoria." you state.<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of but she's got another use." Dane states. "You're in her head so you know. Her parents went from hippies to yuppies. They're not Kelsey levels of well-off but they're not hurting for money either. If we're making these masks and experimenting with this book we need money for supplies."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're using Ceres for her parents' wallets as well as her body." you say plainly.<br/>
<br/>
"You could say that, sure, but we'd need to do it on a more permanent basis." His face gets serious, "You sort of invited yourself into our group and screwed up the dynamic. I'd need you to make it up. We've got your mask back at Tsosie's place. So tomorrow we get to school, find Ceres, throw her mask on you, and you're Ceres. Like a weird Freaky Friday thing."<br/>
<br/>
You're taken aback by that. It seems wrong plus... "But wouldn't she be aware of everything?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure but she'd look like Will Prescott. You'd look and sound and think like Ceres Kesey. Who's gonna believe her if she said anything, right? She'd probably keep quiet unless she wanted to look crazy."<br/>
<br/>
It's cold no doubt. Roth knows what he wants and knows just how to get it. Small too, probably. Doing something like this to a girl whose only mistake is being who she is... it feels wrong. But yet you've been in her for five minutes and you feel amazing. Ceres is such a serene person that it washes away a lot of your anxieties. And even if she wasn't, could you risk going against what these guys want? It's a choice being in their group but it only seems like one in the loosest sense of the word.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Dirt on the Others
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I can't--" No, you can't do it again, not as Victoria, and not with ... yourself. But neither can you look away from the apparition of Will Prescott. There is something fascinating about the sight. There is something <i>wrong</i> about him, something you can't put your finger on. It's not just the clothes. (He's in Justin Roth's things.) Maybe it's just the way that this image of yourself moves independently, instead of following you, as it usually does when it's in a mirror ...<br/>
<br/>
"Then you do the other job," Prescott says. "You game for it?"<br/>
<br/>
"What job?" <i>Which is the frying pan and which is the fire?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Go to a cemetery."<br/>
<br/>
"What for?" Your own nerves would probably give out anyway, and it's no help to have Victoria's own voice screaming hysterically inside your head. <i>Of course the book wouldn't just be magical, it would be black magical.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Get some dirt for us. That's all." Prescott shrugs. "It doesn't even have to be from a grave. I don't think. The book doesn't say for sure."<br/>
<br/>
"Be safest if it were," Perry laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, asshole," Maize growls from the kitchenette.<br/>
<br/>
"I think it just has to be from inside the cemetery," Prescott says. "Gonna be hard work. Four hundred pounds of dirt."<br/>
<br/>
Manual labor isn't your thing, but it's more your thing than fucking guys who look like you. "Okay, I'll do it."<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome," Prescott says. He chews his lip thoughtfully. "You can do it tonight. I'll do your homework for you."<br/>
<br/>
"My homework? You know how to do it, what to do?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You're inside a mask of Victoria Rodriguez, and you have all her memories. It's got to be the same thing with him. A shiver passes over you. <i>He knows everything about you. Everything inside you. He probably knew what you were going to say before you said it.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I can do it," Prescott says. "And we've already got the bags you can use to carry the dirt. Wait till it's dark, then head over--"<br/>
<br/>
"I have to do it at night?" you cry.<br/>
<br/>
That earns you a sour look. "You want people seeing you doing it during the day? Just go get it and bring it back here."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want that shit over here, man," Maize objects.<br/>
<br/>
"Where else are we gonna put it?" Perry says. "We can't do it at my place or Roth's. The book says it has to be set on fire."<br/>
<br/>
"I ain't settin' no fires here!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," Prescott says. He tilts his head back thoughtfully. "There's that old elementary school over in Acheson. Right, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" He's referring to a building a few blocks from your house. It used to be an elementary school for the township, but it had closed many years ago, and part of it was converted to a community recreation center. You'd broken into it a few years ago, and found an old basement--accessible via an outside door--full of junk. You'd put a lock of your own on it, and noticed after a few weeks that no one had taken it off. You'd then started playing around down in it, making it a kind of secret clubhouse for you and Caleb and Keith. "But I haven't been out there in months, I don't know if--"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>know</i>," Prescott snaps. "But you still got the key, and if the lock is still there-- Look, just take the shit out there. We'll meet there at ten, you and me. I'll give you your homework and help you move the shit into the basement. If we can't get in, we'll take it someplace else."<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't seem like you have a choice.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay then. Come on. You'll want out of that thing." He gestures at your face and beckons you to the bedroom. It's with relief that you lay back on the bed. He puts his hand to your face, and the world goes dark again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The air is cold, but not bitterly so, and the breeze rattles the branches of a nearby clump of trees; their fingers claw the air. The crescent moon slides behind a bank of clouds and vanishes below the horizon while you work. It is soon pitch dark.<br/>
<br/>
Which, naturally, doesn't improve your nerves. You wouldn't want to be inside a cemetery after dark anyway, even if you didn't believe in magic. But this is infinitely worse, even just digging a hole directly by the wall, in a corner, as far as you can get from the actual graves. You're getting dirt for a magic spell--for a spell of black magic, you're sure--and if black magic is real, then what about all the other creatures of dark superstition? Won't they feel the attraction for what you're doing? You can't see anything except what's directly in front of you, in the small pool of light cast by the heavy-duty flashlight Justin lent you--not even the low graves. You'd initially turned your back to them; then shifted so you could watch them; then shifted again so that you could watch them out of the corner of your eye. None of the positions makes you feel safe. Something might creep up on you behind your back. You might see something rise up before you. You might see things out of the corner of your eye, innocent things that might look sinister when glimpsed sidelong. You're sweating hard and trembling hard, and only about twenty percent of it, maybe, is from the physical exertion.<br/>
<br/>
Why didn't you just agree to let your doppelganger fuck you?<br/>
<br/>
After a couple of hours--or what feels like a couple of hours--you've got all the bags filled and stowed in the trunk of Roth's car, which he'd also lent you. The drive back feels sluggish; the car feels unduly weighted by the earth in the back; and you keep glancing fearfully into the rearview mirror. A vision of something moldy and mossy--something with earthen flesh and bits of bone sticking out--rising in the back seat keeps playing in your head.<br/>
<br/>
You see your own truck parked next to the school when you arrive. Carefully you get out and walk over to the steps leading down to the sunken door. "Roth?" you call.<br/>
<br/>
A figure steps out of the dark basement. "Here."<br/>
<br/>
You jump. "Jesus! What are you-- I thought you took that thing off!"<br/>
<br/>
"I put it back on," Will Prescott says. "Someone had to go home for you."<br/>
<br/>
"You went to my place?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shit together. No one spotted the difference. I even cuffed Robert around for you. And you're not gonna get in any trouble-- Oh God, man, you smell like shit!"<br/>
<br/>
"You'd smell like shit too if you'd just--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I would, since I look and smell just like you. Come on, let's get that stuff down here. I don't think anyone comes down here, so it'll be perfect."<br/>
<br/>
He helps you move the stuff, stacking it up on the concrete floor near the door, and you're both silent until he makes some crack about you being out of shape. "If you don't like my shape, how come you keep putting it on?" you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"It's cool being other people," he says mildly. "Really. You get these, like, fascinating insights into them. Obviously. It's not all just fucking around."<br/>
<br/>
"So you got inside me and Victoria--"<br/>
<br/>
"And let you get inside me while I was being Victoria," he chuckles.<br/>
<br/>
The comment almost gets past you. Almost. "Wait, what are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Last night, duh. I let you fuck me."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought that was Perry."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah. We got masks of each other, sometimes go to school as each other. Perry was being me last night when you came over, I was being him. I went into the bedroom and changed out of his mask and into Victoria's."<br/>
<br/>
You mull this. "So you were the one afterward, told me to come find you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, that was Small. He changed back to himself while you were with me. I had to take a hit of a something after being with you. Clear my head."<br/>
<br/>
You cringe. "I was that bad?"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "Honestly, I don't remember. I remember being Dane, though, funnily enough."<br/>
<br/>
"When were you Dane?"<br/>
<br/>
"When you came looking for me at Walberg's." He laughs again. "Freaked me out, you asking where I was while I was sitting right in front of you. And then, well, <i>I</i> came in."<br/>
<br/>
"Who was--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Small. Tsosie ditched the day with the real Matthias while I stepped in for him, and Perry showed up as me."<br/>
<br/>
"Wouldn't Dane notice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not bloody likely. You wanna go to school tomorrow as him? We're almost done here, we could go back to Maize's and you could--"<br/>
<br/>
"This is way too confusing."<br/>
<br/>
"Not really, once you get used to it." He leads you back up to the car, and you come back down with the last of the bags. Then you lock up. But then he leans against his car. "Or, you know, we could do a switch right now. You go home as me. I brought my mask, and I've already got yours on."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would you want me to do that?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "Show you're part of the club. You paid your dues. And like I say, it's fascinating getting inside someone's head for a bit." He folds his arms. "Might do you some good."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you mean?" you growl.<br/>
<br/>
He sucks on his lip and glances around. "Look, I don't wanna make you paranoid or anything, but you gotta watch out for Small. He's a son of a bitch. I mean, I like him and all, he's a friend." He pauses. "You're part of the club, like I say, and you'll have a chance to get inside his mask. But you can start getting a feel for him and Tsosie if you play <i>me</i> for a little while. And, anyway--" He shrugs. "Turnabout is the name of the game. Anytime you do something with a mask, someone else gets a credit to do something to you. Last night was my turn to give someone a lay. We're even now, because you helped with this shit." He nods at the basement door. "But I've been walking around inside your mask, the one we made of you last night. So I figure you got a right to get inside mine."</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121
author_id: seuzz
title: Justin Time
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a weird suggestion, but it sounds like you're going to be in for weirdness anyway. And you also feel oddly touched by the generosity of the offer. "How long would I be playing you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tonight and tomorrow. We'll get together after school and surprise the other guys by taking our masks off. So, like, don't tell 'em we switched when you see 'em."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe they'll have switched with each other."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. But Maize isn't too big on what we're doing. You'll see. Uh, we <i>are</i> doing a switch now, aren't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I guess," you gulp.<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. Let's do it down in the basement." <br/>
<br/>
He leads you back inside, and in the darkness you hear rather than see him clamber up onto a table. "It knocks you out when you take these things off, so give me a good hard shake after I--" He sighs deeply, and goes quiet. A dim, bluish glow appears and then tumbles before vanishing. There's a clattering sound.<br/>
<br/>
You feel your way over to him, bumping against the edge of the desk. You run your hands over him until you find his shoulders, and shake them gently. He doesn't move. You shake him harder. Still no response. You get rough, and even slap him a few times. Finally, he groans. "Are you back?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Silence. Then he speaks, in his own voice. "Yeah. Shit, man. Gimme a--" He takes a deep breath. "Oh, fuck me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I will be. But I got so much shit in my head." He gasps and groans, and then sits up. "Alright. I gotta change my clothes. Go look in your truck. My bag is there, it's got my mask and some of my clothes in it. Bring it down."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't I just put your mask on up there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta put my mask on first. You can put your own mask on, and it won't do anything except knock you out for a bit. But it'll put all your most recent memories and stuff into it. I gotta put it on, so you'll be up to speed with what I was doing while you were out at the cemetery."<br/>
<br/>
<i>That'll be convenient,</i> you reflect as you feel your way back up to your truck. Back down in the basement you hand him his pack. "The pisser is changing in and out of these things," he says as he unzips it. "At least, it is for me."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because, like I say, I got all this shit in my head. You're gonna have to, like, really get into being me if you're gonna be able to handle it."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you mean?" you ask in some alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean you're gonna have to lay here a bit and relax, get yourself to thinking 'I'm Justin Roth.' It'll come, it'll be natural. Kind of like when you put on Victoria's mask, probably. But a little rougher. Because with me-- Aw, hell, you're just gonna be kind of confused until you can get a grip. You'll probably also see some things you're not, uh, used to. Just keep thinking of yourself as me, and you'll be able to handle them."<br/>
<br/>
You're not able to question him further, because he has fallen back onto the table, a glow at his face. After a few minutes it reappears, and you wake him again. "How are you doing now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty relaxed," he grunts. "You still dressed? Get outta your things." He slides off the table and you clamber on after disrobing. The darkness is so perfect that you don't notice the mask until you feel it settling onto you. And then it sinks into your face ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You stare. Weird patterns and trails form and shift and dissolve before your eyes. You reach for them, and they tremble and break. You call out to them, and they suddenly speed off to an infinite distance. It's dark again, after having been weirdly lit for a seeming eternity.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!" You clap your hands onto your face, and draw them slowly down. You're cold, and then you're dizzy. You blink and shake your head. You're sitting up, on a hard surface. <i>Prescott ...</i><br/>
<br/>
Oh, but you're Prescott. No, you're not. You're Roth. <i>Grab that thought,</i> something says in your head. You slap your hands to your face again and nearly topple over. <i>You're Justin Roth, you're Justin Roth.</i> You're Will Prescott.  <i>You're Justin Roth, you're Justin Roth.</i> You're Will Prescott. <br/>
<br/>
The world reels and then rights itself. You're Will Prescott pretending to be Justin Roth.<br/>
<br/>
Peace settles over you. You know who you are and what you're doing here. "Oh, fuckin' A," you groan, and stretch. It feels good.<br/>
<br/>
You hop off the table and peer around. You're alone. Prescott-- No, you grin to yourself. Justin Roth-pretending-to-be-Will-Prescott is gone, leaving you, Will-Prescott-pretending-to-be-Justin-Roth, alone in the dark.<br/>
<br/>
You flinch and wheel in the dark. You hate the dark. There are always things in the dark.<br/>
<br/>
You feel around, and your hand touches your backpack. You yank out the ragged jeans and underwear and socks and shoes and hoodie and quickly pull them on, panting in fear of the darkness. When you guys come out here, you have to make sure it's during the day. You grab up the bag and sprint over to the stairs, barking your shins and tripping over the bottom one. You race to the top and slam the door, shutting the <i>things</i> inside. Prescott left the key in the padlock, and you clap it closed. But not until you're in your car and have peeled back out into the street to do you let yourself relax.<br/>
<br/>
The car clock shows it's nearly 11:30, but your curfew isn't until one, and they'll be expecting you back at Tsosie's. With grim amusement, you wonder what Small will have to say.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So how'd he fuck up?" Perry asks. He's slouched on Maize's sofa, arms folded, head back. He peers up at you without moving.<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't fuck up. Did a good job." You sniff and look around. "You leave any of that shit for me, like I asked?"<br/>
<br/>
"On the counter."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Maize?" You step into the kitchenette and open up the box of Chinese take out, scooping up the slimy noodles with your bare hands.<br/>
<br/>
"Bedroom. Probably fingering himself."<br/>
<br/>
You slurp a noodle off your lip and give him an appraising look. "So why aren't you in there with him?"<br/>
<br/>
He flips you off. "I'm sicka Victoria. Never liked her a lot anyway. We need to get some fresh flesh." He turns to glare. "And we coulda got one if you hadn't wasted a mask on Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"You're the one that invited him in," you retort. "Why'd ya do that if you didn't wanna slip into his shorts?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want in that mask of him."<br/>
<br/>
"You sure?" You grin and pat your backpack, which you've laid on the counter. "Got it right here. Slip into him, slip into Maize, if he's slipped into Victoria--"<br/>
<br/>
"Pff."<br/>
<br/>
You chuckle to yourself. There was a slight risk in offering him a mask that you don't have, but Justin's a good poker player, and this wasn't even a real bluff. But it'll stop Perry from wondering if you're really Justin. "The point is, he's in the club now, so treat him straight."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Small turns and tilts his chin.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You tilt your own. <br/>
<br/>
You hold each other's eyes for only a moment, and then he turns away with a grimace. "Whatever. He's not even gonna do anything with our shit. He's a fucking pussy."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what's got your shorts all torqued up?" you demand. He says nothing. You feel a flash of anger and fling the container at his head. It hits and spatters with a satisfying "thwock!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker!" he yells and twists all the way around, eyes blazing.<br/>
<br/>
You step around the counter and flick your fingers, challenging him to charge you. But he just looks away with a glare. "I was in <i>your</i> head when I asked him!" he says. "Why did <i>you</i> wanna invite him in?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos I like guys I can push around. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with Prescott. An' I think he'll get into it. He just needs getting used to it."<br/>
<br/>
"Not like he's getting any anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. 'S what makes him useful." You grin, and deep inside Justin's mask you shiver a little.<br/>
<br/>
"Think he can get close to any girls, get copies of 'em?" Perry asks skeptically.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, if he's wearin' one of <i>our</i> masks."<br/>
<br/>
"I ain't lettin' him in mine!"<br/>
<br/>
"You won't have a choice, not if comes to you as--" You diddle your closed fist with an index finger, then lick it. "You'll owe 'im."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck that. If I wind up owin' him, he can fuck me from inside you or Maize."<br/>
<br/>
"Really!" You laugh, and he turns red. "Oh, fuck us, man, it's gonna be interestin' with four in the club." You pull your pack off the counter and return it to your shoulder. "And while he's bein' one of us, we'll be usin' him to score people he wouldn' even think he could get close to."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you high?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe." You rub your eye with the heel of your hand. "You let me play Prescott, and I think I could surprise a lot of people with what he could do." Perry's expression darkens, and you decide you've played with him enough. "I'll see you and Maize tomorrow, man."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
One o'clock in the morning, and you can't sleep. You're looking through the book you'd sold him. You don't distrust Justin--in the present circumstances, that would be like distrusting yourself. But it occurs to you that you could stand to have a little insurance, given that there's no guarantee he'll be able to keep Perry on a leash. Snakes have a way of being able to slip out of them.<br/>
<br/>
You waggle a pencil between your fingers. He'll remember what you've done, if you do it in his mask. He may even be able to "remember" thinking about it. But you're highly tempted to copy down the spells so you'll have your own copy of the book. You wouldn't even have to ask to borrow it, then.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211
author_id: seuzz
title: New Copies of Old Things
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's getting late, but it's not like you really need to pay attention in class tomorrow anyway. Justin's not going to graduate, and you can skip and sleep as much as you want. Nor will it be out of character to be in a daze. You lock Justin's door, turn off the overhead light, flip on the desk lamp, and take off his mask.<br/>
<br/>
After waking again, you pull out some paper and start taking notes. You already know--thank to Justin's own memories, before they fade--that there is no point in trying to copy the spells directly. The book apparently won't let you do more than write down a list of ingredients, and you'll have to trust your memory on how to put them together. The actual crafting of the spells doesn't look that complicated.<br/>
<br/>
You can access only four spells. It was something you'd noticed, of course: that the pages don't want to turn. Justin and his friends have discovered that the only way to get a page to "unlock" is to complete the spell on that page. (The graveyard dirt they'd had you fetch is for the fifth spell.) But those four spells are enough to make the masks that they've been playing with.<br/>
<br/>
The first makes a mask that can absorb someone's image. The second makes a kind of goop that seals up the mask so that it stops absorbing images and lets you put them on, turning you into a physical duplicate of someone else. The third crafts a special kind of metal band that, when placed on someone's forehead, copies their memories and other stuff inside them. The fourth attaches a band to a mask: When you put a mask containing this band onto someone, you get not only their body but also their mind. It's the kind of thing you're wearing now; which Justin is wearing (of you); and which you and your new partners have donned when putting on Victoria.<br/>
<br/>
Yours is the sixth mask that they've made, leaving them with only one extra: They have masks of Justin, of Perry, of Maize, of Victoria, of Dane, and of you. The first three came from them playing with the spells and and figuring them out. The got Victoria because they figured they could get a copy of a girl and have fun fucking her, even if one of them would have to play her part. It didn't actually take much convincing on anyone's part to get them to go along with it: Justin himself was fascinated by the concept; Perry was obviously turned on by it; Maize has a secret "thing" for Victoria. They used her as bait to bring him along; he is, otherwise, a very reluctant participant, and keeps calling the book "evil." His protests amuse Perry ("Of course it's evil; that's what makes it fun") and tire Justin ("You and your fucking bourgeois morality"), and they're not gentle about using Victoria to drag Tsosie along.<br/>
<br/>
Dane was another of Justin's ideas: Half the fun, as he sees it, is using the masks to get inside other people and go around as them. He figured Dane was a safe target: Someone could keep Dane distracted and out of school while one of their trio--Justin, in the most recent case--went to school as him, and no one (Dane least of all) would be surprised when he came back and couldn't remember what had happened when "he" had been at school.<br/>
<br/>
And you? Under the influence of his own mask you've basically explained to yourself the advantages he sees with you. Though you are not socially connected to any great degree, you can get them close to people they couldn't otherwise get close to. And you're easy to daunt.<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if Justin, being inside your mask, will also recognize that you're capable of some small measure of duplicity.<br/>
<br/>
Once you have all the ingredients copied, you turn to the sigils. These are extremely intricate--even hyper-complex--designs drawn onto each page, and each spell has to be completed by setting the assembled ingredients within them. You rather doubt you'll be able to copy them, and so are pleasantly surprised when they appear beneath your pen without any trouble. Each one takes between thirty minutes to an hour to finish, which puts it close to five o'clock before you're done. You seal your copies up in an envelope, tuck them into Justin's backpack, and put his mask back on. You don't wake again until his mother pounds at your door at around seven.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"When're ya gonna get us some more shit for makin' things?" you mutter to Perry as you slide into the desk next to his second period. You're in the back of Spakovsky's remedial algebra class, even though Justin knows perfectly well how to do algebra. And even though he knows how to do it, he's still flunking the class because he doesn't do any of the work.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, I told you I'm tapped out. That new one--" Perry looks around to make sure no one is paying attention. "We gonna try it out after school?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean what we got the dirt for? Prob'ly. I'll get the key to the place from Prescott if he can't turn loose."<br/>
<br/>
"Get the key anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"And you get some stuff for new--" You wave your hand in front of your face. "If you want fresh pussy."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I'm tapped out. Talk to your new butt boy if you want cash. He's gotta be useful for something."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's get 'im used to things first." Actually, you'd prefer to save your own money for putting together your own stock of masks. Justin's own memories tell you it won't take long to make some after you've got the supplies. The masks, after they are made, have to be "polished," but a car buffer can get one done lickety-split.<br/>
<br/>
Spakovsky calls class to order, and you put your head down to catch up on a little sleep. You only came in here to needle Perry anyway.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You suck on your teeth and let the crowds buffet you as you watch Prescott at his locker. He's with Caleb, or else you'd go up to talk to him. <br/>
<br/>
Of course, it's more than a little weird watching yourself, and not just because you feel like you're scoping yourself out. Justin has never paid the least bit of attention to you--he barely knew your name before you connected over the book--so you don't have his memories of what you looked like to guide you. So you can't help feeling a slight chill of disorientation as you watch the person you must helplessly accept at the moment as "yourself."<br/>
<br/>
He's not tall, but he's skinny in a way that makes him seem taller than he actually is, and his shoulders and elbows and knees and hips jut out at awkward angles, and he fidgets even when standing still. He's wearing a maroon t-shirt (one of your favorites) and jeans and that filthy white ball cap that you won't let your mom wash. Dirty blonde hair sticks out jaggedly in all directions from under it: over the forehead, over the ears, up over the top of the neck. His mouth twists up in a tight smile and his eyes crinkle as he laughs with and joshes with Caleb. You're trying to figure out who he reminds you of, and then it hits you.<br/>
<br/>
He looks like a younger version of your little brother.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, he's bigger than Robert, but he looks like a 10-year-old who's had an unusual growth spurt. He acts like it, too. He looks like he's going to take a frog out of his backpack and slide it down the back of a girl's dress at any moment.<br/>
<br/>
<i>What the hell did Lisa ever see in this dipshit?</i><br/>
<br/>
Only Justin's native imperturbability keeps you from flinching hard. It's your thought, not his, though you can sense he'd agree with the sentiment. You try to picture this scrawny, gangly, developmentally retarded apparition with his arm around the cool, serene, coiffed Lisa Yarborough. She must have several icebergs of "cool" in reserve to have let you nestle with her. Prescott doesn't look dirty or vermin-infested, but he is so scarecrow-like that you imagine her feeling itchy with him leaning against her. No wonder she finally went for Geoff Mansfield. Even Justin Roth would have a better chance with her.<br/>
<br/>
You hike the backpack up onto your shoulder. Again, maybe it's Justin's psyche speaking, but: <i>Yeah, Justin's been with more than a few girls. He doesn't have much trouble hooking and reeling them in. At the very least, you might give Mansfield a scare.</i><br/>
<br/>
While you're daydreaming in this way, someone jostles you, and you look over. "Hey Roth," the guy says. "You seen Maize around?"<br/>
<br/>
It's Jason Lynch, and a warm feeling spreads through you. <i>You can stand up to this cocksucker. You're not afraid of him, and he has no interest in giving you grief.</i> His normally psychotic eyes even gleam with a friendly air. "He's got Goretsky next period," you calmly reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I got some team business to talk over with him. Maybe I'll see you around later?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug noncommittally. Lynch looks a little disappointed, and moves off without speaking further.<br/>
<br/>
A minute later Prescott glimpses you over his shoulder, and comes up after getting away from your friend. His eyes twinkle, and he digs into his pocket. "Think you can take care of things for me today?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" you grunt. <i>Do you really have that nasally whine?</i><br/>
<br/>
"The basement," he mutters through unmoving lips. "Here's the key." He presses it into your nerveless hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't going out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got plans with friends," he says, and you think he stumbles a little over the last word. "Johansson and Tilley are fun. How are you liking Small and Tsosie? Yeah, I know," he says when you grumble noncommittally. "But start working on that thing for me? Give ya two bee-jays if you do," he whispers in your ear.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Fire in the Basement
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're tempted to tell him to do his own dirty work, but maybe it would be useful to get a jump on him with the new spell anyway. "We'll talk later about what you owe me," you say. <i>You'll wanna strike that bargain while inside Justin's mask; he's a much better negotiator than you are.</i><br/>
<br/>
In fact, speaking of negotiations: "Small says he hasn't got the scratch to buy any more supplies," you say. "That leaves us with only one mask."<br/>
<br/>
"You offering to contribute to the fund," he asks with a smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. But any stuff we make with it, I get to decide who we use them on."<br/>
<br/>
His smile fades. "It's a communal effort."<br/>
<br/>
"I won't be a dick about it. And I'm also doing this thing for you this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
His expression turns pinched. "It's a communal effort," he repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"Then you can wait for the community to cough up some more money."<br/>
<br/>
He glowers a moment, then acquiesces. "No fun being hard-balled by yourself," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So, we gotta pour all this shit over the book?" Perry asks incredulously. He's staring, hands on hips, at the stack of dirt-filled bags.<br/>
<br/>
"If it works the same way as the other spells, yeah," you reply. "Gotta use the sigil. We'll do it on this table. Help me move it." He grasps the other end of a big conference table and helps you shift it back toward a far wall. <br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we could just make a copy of the thing," Perry says, and rakes his hair out of his eyes. <br/>
<br/>
"We tried copying stuff before, remember," you retort. You do have that copy of the new sigil in the backpack, and you give momentary thought to using it instead of the book. But that would mean showing Perry the copies, and you'd like to keep them secret. So you open the book to the new page and lay it on the table. "Let's just hope this shit don't stain it."<br/>
<br/>
"Or burn it up," Perry says. "Starting a fire, that's a bad idea down here."<br/>
<br/>
"Better than doing it at our places, and with Maize being a pussy--" You grunt and pick up a couple of bags. "Besides, no one's burned up the book yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe they haven't tried this spell," Perry retorts. "I mean, it looks like no one's opened that book since-- Well, maybe never." He pours out a bag of dirt over the open book. "How old do you think it is?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me." You thoughtfully rub the healed cut in your thumb, where you--where <i>Justin</i>--had sliced himself to squeeze out some blood so he could "claim" the book. "Looks like it's a coupla hundred years old, at least." You grab some more bags and pass them on to Small.<br/>
<br/>
"So where did it come from? How come no one's ever heard of it before?"<br/>
<br/>
"We had this talk already," you sigh. "Probably <i>some</i> people have heard of it, and those ain't any people I wanna meet up with. Probably someone died and it wound up in an estate sale on accident. That's the only way I can figure it got to Arnholm's."<br/>
<br/>
"When was it at Arnholm's?" Perry asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you pay attention? Prescott told us."<br/>
<br/>
"I try not to pay attention to Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up."<br/>
<br/>
You keep working. "This is fucking weird," Perry says when you're nearly done. "Not like the others. What's it gonna make?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we'll find out. Go get the stuff outta your car." You regard the pile of dirt while he's gone. There's far too much to simply pile onto the book, so you've spread it out in a low berm on the table. It looks like the topping to a fresh grave, and you shudder at the thought. <i>It's gonna get dark soon.</i> You hope this is all over by then.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the ingredients are a lot of chemicals and liquid fuels--expensive stuff, as Perry had told you. You pour it over the dirt, and then look nervously at each other. Small finally takes out a matchbook. "Wanna do the honors?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I'll stand back here." You sidle away.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker." He takes a deep breath, strikes a light and flings it onto the pile.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You hear Perry's voice only dimly, and barely feel his hands on your shoulders. You can only stare, entranced with horror, at the forms that boil out of the dirt. Skeletal, wraith-like, bound in shrouds and chains. They dance and writhe and reach for you.<br/>
<br/>
"Get a grip!" Something seizes your chin and wrenches at your face. Perry, his eyes wide, is staring deeply into yours. "Calm! Down!"<br/>
<br/>
Your gaze goes back to the forms, and your eyes bulge. "But those things--!" Your guts feel like they're going to dissolve and slide out your asshole.<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing there, Justin! It's just a fire!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't see them?!"<br/>
<br/>
"Come on!" He grabs you about the torso and hauls you toward the stairs. The room spins. And then you're running up the stairs, and burst out into the fading afternoon light. You fall onto the dirt and grass and clutch your head. Even with your eyes shut you can see them. <i>Dead things.</i><br/>
<br/>
Perry holds you and strokes your hair gently. You tremble and gag. "They weren't real?"<br/>
<br/>
"There was nothing there," he says softly. "It was just flames. Like on a gas grill."<br/>
<br/>
You nod your head and swallow. You've seen things in gas flames before. It's gotta be your nerves. Damn flashback of some kind. If it were a normal kind of thing, not a magical thing, you'd have just watched with fascination and interest. But it's really hard to tell what's real and what isn't, not with this book and its shit. "You're not just telling me what I want to hear?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, Justin," he says, and gives you a manly but reassuring hug. "You don't have to go back in there. I'll go watch it." He gets to his feet. "You gonna be alright?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck me, but ... yeah."<br/>
<br/>
He peers at you gravely, and you give him a weak smile, and he returns to the basement. You turn so you can't even see the windows peeking up above the ground, and wait.<br/>
<br/>
He's gone a long time, which gives you plenty of time to steady yourself. You keep telling yourself it was just lights and your own imagination, and eventually the horror fades. But then you start to worry about Perry. He hasn't come back. "Perry!" you call. "Small!" No reply. You get to your knees--you're still feeling too weak to stand--and crawl back toward the door. "Hey! You okay in there?"<br/>
<br/>
He appears in the doorway. "Yeah. What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong in there? What's happening?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing." He looks back inside the basement. "It's still just burning. I think it's gonna just keep going."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck. What did the book say about this?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. It's under all that shit now. Didn't you say it'd have to be relighted if it went out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You try to remember what it said. "Keep relighting it until it won't light any more."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, how about we come back later tonight and check on it."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not comin' back here at night."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I will. Or let's get Prescott to check on it. His place is around here, right?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>You don't want Justin freaking out like you've just freaked out, not while he's pretending to be you.</i> "No, we don't want him fucking it up. We'll check it tomorrow after school. And then it'll be the weekend, we can keep a closer eye on it then."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be in charge of it then," Perry says. "If this thing freaks you out, no way we can trust Tsosie with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Tsosie," you mutter. "Maybe he's got the right idea about this. We could be letting some bad stuff out."<br/>
<br/>
And as soon as the words are out a creeping horror overwhelms you. Perry was down in the basement a very long time. Long enough for one of those wraiths to crawl out and crawl into him, possessing him. <i>Just because the dirt didn't come out of a grave doesn't mean there couldn't have been something in it.</i><br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You cover your face with your hands. "Just thinkin' about what I saw," you say hoarsely.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's lock it in and go home," he says. You hear him slam the door shut. "There's no heat comin' off the fire anyway. Nothin's gonna burn."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Except we are. In hell.</i><br/>
<br/>
You flinch away and fall back with a cry as he tries to lift you up. "Jesus, come <i>on!</i>" he says. "If someone finds us here--" But you can only stare back at him, feeling your eyes bulge, as he looks down at you. He bites his lip, and crouches down next to you. "Come on, man," he says quietly. "Let's get out of here. You need to get out of your head. You'll feel better if you get in mine. You'll see there was nothing wrong." He caresses the side of your head. "I'll put Victoria's mask on. Then it won't be <i>gay</i> and I can keep doing this." He smiles crookedly at you.<br/>
<br/>
You smile back, and let him help you to your feet. He's right. You need to get out of Justin's mask. Maybe then you can stop freaking out.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Except then he'll know it's you, Will Prescott.</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, maybe it's time to come clean. You're going to have to come clean sooner or later. Justin was even going to play it as the climax to a gag, with the two of you unmasking in front of Small and Tsosie.<br/>
<br/>
Except that now Perry is going to think you really <i>are</i> a pussy, that even Justin's strong nerves couldn't stop you from losing your shit.<br/>
<br/>
Your house is close by. Maybe you should just go find Justin and switch back privately with him.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112
author_id: seuzz
title: You and Perry
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, I need outta this thing," you say, and rub your eyes. You're glad he drove the two of you out here.<br/>
<br/>
You wait until you're buckled in and onto the street before speaking again. "Look, Small, I got a confession to make. Me and Prescott switched places last night."<br/>
<br/>
"I know you put his mask on." He gives you a sidelong look. "You let him put yours on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. And what I'm tellin' you is that we didn't take them off after. So, really, what I'm sayin' is that me and <i>Roth</i> switched places. And haven't switched back."<br/>
<br/>
He's quiet for a long minute. "So you're really Prescott," he says in a tone halfway between a question and a statement.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Uh, you're not really Tsosie, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." He sucks on his teeth. "So I've been talkin' to Prescott all day today? And last night? You the asshole who threw that Chinese garbage at me? You been havin' a good time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Small, I knew you didn't like me. I knew that before I put this thing on and talked--"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I ain't mad at <i>you,</i> Prescott," he says curtly. "Fuckin' nice joke for <i>Roth</i> to play on me, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe if it's the four of us, we shouldn't be swapping masks around without telling anyone."<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe you could let me get back at Roth."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you and me switch? I mean, you put on this mask and I--"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. I should calm down first."<br/>
<br/>
"You're really that pissed?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." He lapses into silence. "Prescott, it's nothing personal, really. But it was me and Roth and Tsosie before, you know? I don't know <i>why</i> Roth let you in."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You're</i> the one who roped me in."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but that was--" His mouth twists up sourly. "Well, I guess Justin seriously wants you as an equal member."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I get it. You had me marked out for being Victoria any time one of you--or just <i>you</i>--wanted--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up." He grips the wheel and glares at the traffic. "I figured that's what <i>Justin</i> wanted too."<br/>
<br/>
You look away. "Well, if you want me to just drop out, I guess I can. No one would believe me if I told anyone--"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's too late for that now," he says. "And, honestly," he says with a sigh after a moment's thought. "Maize is being a real pussy about it. Bigger pussy than you've been. And if Justin's been walking around as you, maybe he's seen something in you I haven't." He sucks on his cheek. "I'll be okay with it. Just gotta get used to it, is all."<br/>
<br/>
It may sound like a very small promise, but it may be a promise nonetheless. "I still need to get out of this thing," you say. "After what I saw back there--"<br/>
<br/>
"Hit you bad, huh?" he says. "Yeah, it ain't pretty in there. Inside Roth."<br/>
<br/>
"You've seen some stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll be okay once you get the mask off."<br/>
<br/>
"We could go get Justin," you say, "and we could--"<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just go back to my place. We can take it off you and see how it plays."<br/>
<br/>
You lapse into silence until you're back at his house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a nice place, a big house in one of the older, leafier, tonier neighborhoods. A big black lab bounds out to greet you as you get out of his car. "Folks are at a community board meeting," he says as you go in. "We'll have the place to ourselves. Well, except for Traci."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ah, yes, his thirteen-year-old sister, who comes out to gaze rapturously at Justin every time he goes over.</i> "Get me outta this thing before she shows up." He gives you a wry look and leads you upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
He goes for your face before you're ready, but you push him off; with Justin's memories you know the trick for taking off a mask. It involves placing your hands just <i>so</i> against your cheek and brow, and then saying a string of nonsense syllables three times fast ... The world goes dark.<br/>
<br/>
You twitch and blow and swing a fist as you come back out of it. There was something clawing at you ...<br/>
<br/>
And then you're awake. You sit up on the bed and look around wildly. Perry is leaning against the window sill, looking out into a world that is turning grey. He turns as you scramble back against the wall. "Is that better?"<br/>
<br/>
You rub your face and take a deep breath. You're not sure. It certainly seemed like something nasty--something with wet, claw-like fingers--was reaching out to grasp you. You remember that fear you'd had, of Perry being alone in the basement with <i>things,</i> things let loose from the cemetery, and released by the new spell ...<br/>
<br/>
You look at him. There's nothing sinister in his posture or his aspect. And now that you're out of Justin's mask, the feelings of horror are rapidly fading. You take another deep breath. Yeah, except for the clothes, you are feeling much more like Will Prescott now. "Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you <i>better</i> now?" he repeats for the third time.<br/>
<br/>
"I think so. Do you ever get used to going into or coming out of these things?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't done it that much," he shrugs. "We've only had 'em for a few days. And I think it depends on whose mask it is and what they've been doing. Victoria--" He blows a small raspberry.<br/>
<br/>
"You were talking about getting a new girl," you say. "Making a new copy."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but we only got one mask left. Me and Justin-- Well, I guess you know that we were fighting over who to get."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," you say slowly. "Thing is, I got some money. We were talkin' about <i>that</i> too, right, in Spakovsky's class? And I saw Justin later, talked to him about kicking in some cash for supplies."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Perry actually sounds pleased.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but I get to decide who we get."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." He turns back glumly to the window, then turns again with a more challenging look. "Oh?" He folds his arms.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you say firmly. "But that doesn't mean I won't take suggestions. Thanks for helping me out back at the basement. And for bringing me here."<br/>
<br/>
He holds your eye, and a gleam comes into it. He bends at the waist, trembling with light laughter. "Okay then," he says. "So how many new masks can we get?"<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me. I've got fifty bucks I can contribute."<br/>
<br/>
"That's good for at least three," he muses. "Maybe more, since we already got some of the supplies on hand. Who would you be interested in?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who would <i>you</i> be interested in?" You're savvy enough that you're not going to let him veto your own choices just so he can steer you toward his own. And he's probably got good ideas anyway.<br/>
<br/>
He seems to have a parallel thought, for after coolly gazing at you a moment he tears a sheet from a notebook before tossing it to you. "You write down names. I'll write down names. Any we agree on, we go for 'em, no debate or discussion."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't Justin get a vote?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought it wasn't a democratic decision."<br/>
<br/>
"It isn't, but-- Yeah, okay." This is the simplest way, and if it gives you a connection to Perry, it's worth it.<br/>
<br/>
He writes quickly. It takes you a longer time. You keep bumping into the fact that none of them seem "gettable." But finally you decide you might as well shoot the moon. Maybe Small and Roth can get close to them. So:<br/>
<br/>
First order of business has to be cheerleaders. Chelsea Cooper. Cindy Vredenburg. Maria Vasquez. Gloria Rea. Eva and Jessica Garner. You pause a long time before deciding not to put down Yumi Saito's name, as she's a quasi-friend. Others? The sad fact is that though there are lots of good-looking girls, you don't know their names, and the names you know are not highly desirable. You put down the name Almida Jones, the captain of the girls' basketball team. With a stab of spite you write Kelsey Blankenship's name down, and then cross it out. Hell, you'd be scared to be alone with even a fake version of <i>her.</i><br/>
<br/>
And that reminds you of Lisa. No, you can't put her name down. Yes, you are sexually ardent around her, but she means more to you than that. And the thought of Perry or Justin pretending to be her just so you could-- No, you can't. And being inside her, they'd know how she felt about you, and see the way she coolly crushed the relationship you'd had. That would be even worse.<br/>
<br/>
You look down at the page. There's her name. You cross it out.<br/>
<br/>
"We're supposed to be coming up with names, not crossing them out," Perry says.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," you say. "It's just that some of them-- Well, there's history there."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?" His eyebrows arch with amusement.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. Don't <i>you</i> have girls you-- I mean, that you like but you'd feel guilty if-- Oh, shut up!"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "Lemme see." He holds out his piece of paper. Reluctantly, you hand him the notebook. "Fuck!" he exclaims. "You and <i>Chelsea Cooper</i> have a <i>history</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself turn bright red. "No! She's one I just wanna fuck!"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs again, and rubs his chin. "So, Kelsey Blankenship and Lisa Yarborough. Which one do you have a <i>history</i> with?"<br/>
<br/>
You bite your tongue and look at his list. Your heart stops.<br/>
<br/>
"I see three matches," Perry says. "Chelsea, Jessica and Lisa. Those are our girls."<br/>
<br/>
"I crossed Lisa's name off," you snap.<br/>
<br/>
"How come? You want her, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You're about to retort that she is <i>definitely</i> not one for the taking, but pause a sudden--and terrible--thought. Perry can probably get Lisa anyway, as soon as he has enough money to "contribute" more masks to the club. Wouldn't it be better to get a copy of Lisa now, when you have some leverage, and use that leverage to keep her copy away from your new colleagues?</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122
author_id: seuzz
title: Inside Perry Small
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You want her, right?" Perry says with a wolfish grin.<br/>
<br/>
You twist on the bed. "Yeah, but I don't want it to be one of <i>you</i> guys <i>pretending</i> to be her!"<br/>
<br/>
"Pff. The plumbing's the same. And if it ain't one of us, you ain't gettin' into her."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure I could!" <i>No you couldn't.</i> "Well, if we had a mask of <i>Geoff Mansfield</i> I could."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>That's</i> a bad idea," he says, rolling his eyes. "You can't go to school as Mansfield, not with the real one running around."<br/>
<br/>
"So I'd hook up with her outside of school." You're arguing for the sheer need to argue. "And Justin said <i>he's</i> gone to school as Dane Matthias."<br/>
<br/>
"Because we got Matthias out of the way, and he'd never notice--"<br/>
<br/>
"So, get Mansfield out of the way for me!"<br/>
<br/>
Perry puts his hand on his hip and gives you a weary look. "That's a tall order--"<br/>
<br/>
"And why aren't you guys doing that anyway? Getting masks of guys so you can get close to their girlfriends?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>That</i> causes his eyes to widen. "Are you being <i>serious?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You don't know if you are or not; by this point you're just trying to keep him off the subject of Lisa. But: "Sure I am. I mean, how are we gonna get close to Chelsea, to get a mask of her? I can't. Can any of you guys? Only way is through one of her friends, by pretending to be one of them."<br/>
<br/>
"So we'd use one of the cheerleaders. Jessica. She's approachable, and we want her anyway, same as we want--"<br/>
<br/>
"Or use someone like Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> gonna try putting a mask onto <i>Gordon Black?</i>" Perry snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but if we got a mask of him, or of Steve Patterson, we could also have fun bein' them. Seth Javits and Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's gay, man, pretending to be other guys."<br/>
<br/>
"What have you and Justin been doing with each other's masks?" you retort.<br/>
<br/>
He turns a bright red. "That's just bein' friends. And Justin's got this idea about it being 'interesting'--" He makes air quotes "--to be other people."<br/>
<br/>
"So I bet it'd be 'interesting'--" You make air quotes back at him "--to be Gordon Black. Fucking useful, too."<br/>
<br/>
He pulls at his nose. "Well, that's something to talk about with Roth."<br/>
<br/>
You hold Justin's mask out to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Now?" Perry cries.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Be him tonight and tomorrow. I'm still a little freaked out from--"<br/>
<br/>
"We'd have to go get him from your place. He'd have to take over for me."<br/>
<br/>
"What am I, chopped liver?" You hold out your arms.<br/>
<br/>
He clenches his jaw. " I don't want--" He stops, and struggles with himself. "You really are trying to act like you're--"<br/>
<br/>
"C'mon, man, show me I'm an equal member of this club."<br/>
<br/>
"Justin's never spent the night as me. I've never spent it as him."<br/>
<br/>
"He let me spend last night as him."<br/>
<br/>
You can tell <i>that</i> leaves a mark. "Fine," he snarls. He pulls open a dresser drawer and from under a pile of whites takes out a mask. "I'll be in the bathroom."<br/>
<br/>
"Look at it this way," you call to him before he's gone. "Maybe being inside your mask will convince me to go along with <i>your</i> choices for new girls." He gives you a dirty look, and slams the door behind him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You hadn't talked long after he'd come back (fifteen minutes later) and taken Justin's mask and his clothes--you'd disrobed while he was gone--and returned to the bathroom for a second change. "Here's my things," the new Justin Roth had said once he was back, and dropped a pile of clothes (with a mask on top) onto the bed. "I'm takin' off. I'll call, well, <i>Prescott</i> and tell him what we did here." He trudges out.<br/>
<br/>
You'd been hiding your nakedness by slipping between the sheets of his bed--and the sight of you in it, maybe, was one reason he'd been muted--and you'd quickly put his mask on. There's that sister of his somewhere in the house, and the parents will be along soon, probably.<br/>
<br/>
You feel like you're at the bottom of a deep hole, with something heavy pressing on your head, when you wake. You flip over onto your stomach and push your face into the pillow. Angry bees buzz in your head. <i>Stupid Prescott,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
That's not one of <i>your</i> thoughts. You blink your eyes open, but can see nothing but the greyish bulge of the pillow. Damn it, Prescott's inside your head with you. No, Small is inside your head with <i>you.</i> And you've got his body now. The bees set up a vibrating racket and then dissipate, but they leave an echo behind. Fuck. You should get up and get dressed before Tom and your mother get back.<br/>
<br/>
You raise yourself shakily onto your arms, and then collapse again as the cellphone at the foot of the bed tweets. You scramble around with a sigh and clutch it before slipping back under disordered sheets. Laying there, you've given yourself a chubby.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" you snap impatiently after checking the ID. It's Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey man," he says in that nasally whine. "I got a call about something happening. Thought I'd check in on your end."<br/>
<br/>
"You talk to, well--" Damn names. "To Roth already? Yeah, I'm over here now." You flop onto your back and shift around, trying to stop the stimulation going on down there, but your dick just unfurls a little more fully. "Oh, fuck me."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm busy," he chortles. "And I got nothing to say, really. How'd things go out the school?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was a fucking mess. That's how come I wanted to switch. I was freaking out inside your mask."<br/>
<br/>
"What'd it do? No, wait I gotta go in a minute. But is it all finished? What'd it make?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. You'll have to go check it out in the morning, because we left it going. Don’t' fuck anything up when you're--"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't got a key. But I really gotta go. I'll talk to you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Since when does Will Prescott have fucking commitments?</i> you fume to yourself, and throw the phone onto the floor. Asshole.<br/>
<br/>
You throw your arm across your forehead and grit your teeth. When you can't stand it anymore, you peel off your underwear and close a loose fist around your cock. It's long and slim, and it aches. No wonder you-- No wonder Perry didn't want to switch with you. You, alone, tonight with his equipment and his fantasies. Well, fuck, he'll be alone with Justin's, same as Justin has been alone with yours. You cringe. You were too busy last night to even feel any urges while being Justin, though you <i>had</i> scoped out lots of girls at school, as is his wont. (And more openly, too.) But now you're inside Perry, and he had been anticipating getting inside Justin again when he recharged this mask, and that has left him--<br/>
<br/>
It's mortifying. Doubly so. Triply so. Being Perry Small and having these fantasies, and being Will Prescott and watching him have these fantasies, and being Perry Small and having Will Prescott watching him have these fantasies. Perry isn't gay, there's no doubt he's as straight as a dude can get. Why, when he thinks about Chelsea Cooper--<br/>
<br/>
The tip of your dick quivers, and a pulse races up the shaft to meet it.<br/>
<br/>
And he's definitely not into dudes. But Justin--<br/>
<br/>
You take long deep breaths, and exhale slowly, and force yourself to think about other things. Unsexy things. Things that don't have anything to do with girls and boobs and clits and being Justin Roth--<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if Justin knows. <i>Oh, hell, Justin has been inside this mask. He knows.</i> You're sure he knew before he even got ahold of the book. It's probably one of the reasons he's even interested in doing this stuff. Because it's a <i>treat</i> he can give Perry. Letting Perry <i>be</i> his own best friend.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually everything settles down, though it leaves you feeling ragged. You climb out of bed and get dressed.<br/>
<br/>
Perry is tall and very lean, with a summer time, swimming pool tan that has only started to fade with the fall, and the clothes are very loose (except for the tightie whities): ankle socks, wrinkled khaki slacks, a dark pullover. You shove your feet into the black canvas sneakers, and walk into the bathroom while slipping that thin gold chain into place around your left wrist. Truculent eyes stare back at you from under dark eyebrows and a messy haircut. You've got long blonde hair that swirls messily with the worst case of "bed head" in the school, though it's a look that requires lots of gel to keep looking sexily disordered. You snatch up a comb and with one hand begin carefully teasing individual locks into place while with the other you squeeze a little gel into a palm so you can stick the results down (or out, as is mostly the case with this look). When you're satisfied (after a solid fifteen minutes of work) you give yourself a quick, appraising sneer and return to the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
You can hear noises from downstairs by this point, and you're hungry, but you don't want to see Tom, your asshole stepdad. One of these days you're going to punch him, just tee offa his ass. You tear a loose cuticle away with your teeth and spit it out. Maybe you should go find Tsosie. Or maybe--<br/>
<br/>
Oh, dammit. Lisa Yarborough. You close your eyes and ball up your fists. Your cock stirs again. Perry Small has got it bad for her, and it is pure, unbridled lust. No history, no tenderness, no moony-spoony-Juney bullshit. <br/>
<br/>
You bet if you called up Kirk you could find out where she is. Hell, call him up, get together with him, you could wind up at her place, or someplace where she is.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221
author_id: seuzz
title: Not the Meet Up You Wanted
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Hey man," Anthony Kirk says when he answers.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, what's goin' on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what's goin' on with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just answer the question, Kirk. If there was something goin' on with me I wouldn' be callin' you."<br/>
<br/>
"We're trying to get into a club."<br/>
<br/>
"What club? Who's we?"<br/>
<br/>
"We haven't decided yet. Last place they were being dickheads."<br/>
<br/>
"And who's 'we'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me, Gardinhire, Golia, Amanda--" His words slur indistinctly, and you think you can hear him say "Perry Small," so he's probably talking to the others. "We can give you a call when we land someplace."<br/>
<br/>
"Mansfield with you? Lisa Yarborough?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, they ran off someplace else with someone." <br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck.</i> But you want out of the house. "Where are you headed now?"<br/>
<br/>
"We can call you when--"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me where you're going now, and I'll meet up with you."<br/>
<br/>
"I think we're trying for Nighthawks next." His voice has turned tight.<br/>
<br/>
"Better have your best IDs out, then. Look for me outside." You slap the phone off before he can argue.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You pound out a cigarette and light it after stepping from the car, and peer around the parking lot through the smoke. Skanks, whores and frat boys, laughing and chortling in independent knots, but no sign (yet) of the others. You pull out your wallet and slide the fake ID to the front. <i>Fuck, if we got masks of college assholes we wouldn't need fake IDs. Justin's thinking is bush league.</i><br/>
<br/>
You grimace tightly, juggling three different thoughts, none of which leave you feeling happy. First thought: You suspect Kirk and them have ditched you, and you feel a flash of resentment. <i>High-handed cocksuckers. That's one of the great things about Justin. Fucker is smart, smart as them, maybe smarter, but he's cool and ain't pretentious.</i> <br/>
<br/>
Second thought: You're not going to be able to find Lisa. Oh, you could call her directly, but you've no real connection to her, and she'd be with Mansfield anyway. Not that that would bother you, unless it were just the two of them. Half the fun would be getting up that asshole's nose in front of her. You feel a warm stab of sympathy with Perry: He doesn't like Geoff any more than you do.<br/>
<br/>
Third thought: You could really do stuff with these masks. Dangerous stuff. Highly unethical stuff. Copying influential people, using their knowledge and looks to get stuff. You--Perry--had mentioned it to Justin, but he'd brushed it off. And even Perry had shied away from one obvious use: Getting a copy of his stepdad and using it to fuck him up. You take a long drag on the cigarette and scowl into the night.<br/>
<br/>
There's some commotion near the door, and you crane your neck to see. The guy out front--big dude, bald, in a white polo shirt--has his hands on his hips and is glaring at someone. He puts out a hand and gently pushes a figure out of the line. Another one joins him, and the two trudge back into the parking lot. <i>Shit, it's--</i><br/>
<br/>
You drop the cigarette and grind it under your sole. "Maize! Dane! What're you doin' here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Small world!" Dane shouts back, and extends his arms in greetings as he saunters up to you. "Know someplace we can--"<br/>
<br/>
You look between him and Maize. For a moment you wonder if it's Tsosie under the Dane mask. But that wouldn't be, for then it would have to be Dane under the Tsosie mask, and that's outta the question.<br/>
<br/>
But Maize has caught your glance, though he may have misunderstood it. "Dude showed up at my place. I figured he needed a little watching." Dane just laughs in glassy-eyed way.<br/>
<br/>
"Mother hen," you mutter back and look around "Fuck. I was s'posed to meet some guys here, but it looks like they just told me to go fuck myself. They bein' assholes about IDs up there?" You jerk your head at the club. <br/>
<br/>
Maize shrugs. "It was Dane's idea."<br/>
<br/>
"I know those guys," Matthias says. "They're cool." He totters back on his heels. "Come on, let's try again."<br/>
<br/>
"No point in that." You grasp him by the elbow and pull him back. "You didn't drive here, did you, you moron?"<br/>
<br/>
"I drove us," Maize answers for him. "Wanna go find Roth?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, no. He's gettin' queer with Prescott." The words come out before you realize what you're saying. "So where to, gents?"<br/>
<br/>
Maize just shrugs. Dane looks about in a daze, and then his eyes go wide and he chortles in the back of his throat. "I know where we can hang out!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yo' momma's vagina?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Better than that! Come on!" He stumbles past you, then turns with an impish grin. "Come on!"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes and let him lead you through the parking lot. Then you let Maize take the lead after Dane complains that he can't find the car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"The fuck are we doing here?" you cry. You get out of the back and stare up dumbly at the high school gym. Dane had just kept saying "Turn here" and "turn here" until you'd arrived. And though Nighthawks is only a mile or so from the school, thanks to Dane it took nearly twenty minutes to get here.<br/>
<br/>
"Gotta secret to show you guys!" Dane says. He jogs over to the gym's side door, but because he's taking tiny steps and moving slow, you can keep up with him at an easy walk. "Watch this!" He pulls at the door. It doesn't budge.<br/>
<br/>
"It's locked," you sigh. "Let's just--"<br/>
<br/>
"Watch! Aha!" With a flourish he pulls a hairpin from his front pocket. He wobbles a bit as he pushes the pin into the lock and fiddles with it.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not seriously trying to--!" And then you have stop, for with a triumphant smile Dane has pulled the door open.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, whaddaya think you're doing?" Maize asks in a worried voice.<br/>
<br/>
"You know how Black and them have that fuck pad, right?" Dane says. He walks backward into darkened gym, and promptly trips and falls on his ass. It leaves him unfazed. "Let's check it out!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fssh!" you hiss through your teeth. "Let's go get some beers." But Dane has clambered off and trotted into the darkness. "Go get your friend," you order Maize. "I'll be out in the car."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>My</i> friend?" Maize retorts, but you're out the door and walking quickly away.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fucking night's turned into a disaster,</i> you fume to yourself as you crawl back into front-side passenger's seat. (Let Dane take the back; maybe he'll pass out.) You sit heavily onto Tsosie's backpack, and irritably pick it up to shove away. <i>It's not even eleven and--</i><br/>
<br/>
Something in the pack clinks. You recognize the sound, and with a spastic motion rip the zipper back. Two blue objects gleam inside.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck," you mumble to yourself as you pull them out. They're masks. Dane's name floats inside one of them. The other is still a blank.<br/>
<br/>
You frown into the darkness, blinking with thought. This doesn't make any sense. Tsosie hates these things. The only reason he's gone along with this shit is because you--<i>Perry,</i> you have to remind yourself again with gritted teeth--and Justin have him totally under your thumbs. That, and he likes doing it with Victoria's mask. That's how come you've got Victoria and not some other, better girl, because Maize squirts uncontrollably all over himself when he sees her. <br/>
<br/>
So it's fuckin' weird that he'd have these masks here. He keeps his own--and Victoria's--at his place, and won't let anyone into his mask except when he's wanting to feel things from Victoria's point of view, and when he gets inside her he insists on doing it only with himself. You grimace. The only real climaxes the fake Victoria has had have been when it's been Tsosie inside her and one of his friends playing him. He's a sick fuck.<br/>
<br/>
Your lip curls. You and Justin had been keeping the blanks at his place too, since there's no danger of anyone stumbling over them at his house. And that's where you'd been keeping Dane's mask as well. If Maize is carrying them around, it's got to be because he's thinking of getting rid of them, to keep you and Justin from doing anything else with them. He knows you put the rest of your money into that new spell. Well, he's in for a rude shock.<br/>
<br/>
You have a long time to stew, for it's nearly ten minutes before he and Dane reappear, the former steering the latter toward the car. You put the masks back and slouch in your seat. "Took your fucking time," you mutter to him as he gets behind the wheel.<br/>
<br/>
"We wound up in that loft of theirs," Maize mutters. "Close shave." He puts the key in the car.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Black was up there."<br/>
<br/>
"The <i>fuck?</i> Him and Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, just him. He was asleep or something. I got Dane outta there before he could fuck anything up." He starts the motor.<br/>
<br/>
You grab his wrist before he can put the car into gear. "What happened up there?" you demand. You glance into the back, where Dane is burbling happily to himself.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, we wound up upstairs. Dane wanted to show me how he could pick the lock on the door up there, but the padlock was off, so we went in. Black was all sprawled out on the floor, snoring away. I had to grab Dane and haul him out before he made any noise."<br/>
<br/>
"So Black is up there <i>by himself</i> and he's asleep?" You can hardly believe your ears.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I guess him and Chelsea--" He snorts. "And then she snuck away."<br/>
<br/>
You lick your lips and suppress a tremble. You'd been talking earlier about getting a copy of Gordon. Here's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Copying of Gordon Black
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You leap out the car, tossing Tsosie's backpack on your shoulder, and sprint for the gym door. Dane's antics have left it open, and you rush inside. The floor creaks softly under you tread. It's pitch black, and you bark your shins on the edges of the bleachers as you try to find your way to the bottom of the stairs that lead to an upper loft.<br/>
<br/>
But the darkness also proves an ally. You've just found the steps when you hear Tsosie hissing your name from afar. He must have noticed you had his backpack, and after a minute's thought deduced what you're trying to do. You're not going to let him stop you. But you're up the steps long before he can find his way to them as well. <br/>
<br/>
At the top, around the corner, is a wooden door, behind which is some kind of loft. Neither you nor anyone you know (nor anyone that Small knows) has ever been up into it. It's the school's fabled "VIP room" where the top athletes can hang out at any time of day, any day of the week, with whomever they deign to show favor toward. Usually that means their buddies, their girlfriends, and any girls they want to impress. <br/>
<br/>
There is no athlete--no alpha dog--higher up than Gordon Black. Captain of the basketball team; a tall, hulking presence who doesn't push others out of the way so much as he just plows through them; and boyfriend to the captain of the cheerleader squad, Chelsea Cooper. Score a copy of him inside a mask, and--<br/>
<br/>
Well, you couldn't go to school <i>as</i> him, obviously, since there'd be no getting rid of him. But you might be able to make trouble for him by showing up places where he isn't, and doing things to other people that they might begrudge. But the most important is that in his guise you can probably get close enough to Chelsea Cooper--the most desirable girl in the school--to get a copy of <i>her.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Small!" Tsosie's hiss interrupts your reverie as you stand in front of that door contemplating victories to be had. You smile tightly to yourself and push gently at the handle. It gives with only the faintest creak. You slip inside and shut it behind you.<br/>
<br/>
The loft is quite big, and through large windows you can see the glimmer from streetlights. In their glow you can make out piles of boxes and other junk. Officially, it's just a storage space. But the middle has been cleared out, and sprawling in the space is a human figure.<br/>
<br/>
You creep closer, cursing the creak of floorboards. But if Dane and Maize weren't making enough noise to wake him, probably you won't. The figure is snoring heavily.<br/>
<br/>
He's laying on his side, curled up in a loose fetal position, arms folded across his chest. He's in his workout clothes, and he's laying on a gym mat. His head is on a box. You cock your own head. This doesn't look post-coital. This looks like he's come up and crashed here for the night. Did he get drunk? You know nothing about Black, except that his mere presence in the hallway can inspire pants-shitting terror, and can't begin to guess what would bring him up here.<br/>
<br/>
As softly as you can, you drop down next to him and unzip the backpack. He continues to snore. The blank mask clinks softly against the other one as you draw it out. His snore catches a tiny bit, and your heart leaps. The thing to do now is to get it on him, quick. Once it's on him, <i>nothing</i> will wake him up until it's finished copying him. You turn the mask around, kneel next to him, and extend it.<br/>
<br/>
The door opens behind you. Gordon makes a sharp sound at the back of his throat.<br/>
<br/>
You ram the mask onto him, and he rolls onto his back.<br/>
<br/>
You spin around. "The fuck are you doing?" Tsosie hisses.<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddaya think I'm doing?" you hiss back, though there is no need for silence any more. "Usin' that mask you were hiding to get a copy of him."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you out of your--?" He runs forward. You dart to the side, tripping him as he swerves, and he crashes head first onto Gordon. You guffaw as he frantically scrambles away, cursing to himself.<br/>
<br/>
"Mask's already in him," you say in a louder, firmer voice. "Kick him in the balls, if you want."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll kick <i>you</i> in the balls!" he pants.<br/>
<br/>
"Stop it! What's got you so worked up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddaya think's got me--!"<br/>
<br/>
"So I'm makin' a copy of the asshole. Ain't you ever used a Xerox machine? Ripped a DVD?"<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't like copying a book!"<br/>
<br/>
"No shit, Tsosie. Ain't no FBI warnings on this stuff."<br/>
<br/>
He gasps, then charges. Again you sidestep him. Tsosie's strong, and he'll fuck you up good if he gets his hands on you. "Dude! Bro! Thinka what we can do! We can use this to get Chelsea Cooper!"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea? You're thinking of--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Damn straight I am! Now you are too. Whaddaya think she feels like? Tight, hot and wet, oh yeah. But I bet she's got muscles down there, muscles she's got from workin' out three times a day with ol' Black here--"<br/>
<br/>
"Gyah!" He charges again, and this time he catches you, clipping you and knocking you against a pillar. All the air explodes from your lungs. Your eyes are now well-adjusted to the gloom, and you see him draw his fist back. You manage to deflect it a little by striking at his arm with your own; and though your entire forearm explodes with pain, his burly fist only grazes your rib cage. He snarls, and you grab at him, holding tight, so he won't be able to throw another punch. He twists around the floor, tearing at your shirt, then trips and falls. You spring away at the last moment, and though you catch the floor hard, you're up again fast, and climb on top of some crates. Frantically you feel from some spot up in the rafters where you can clamber out of his reach. But he's after you again, grabbing at your legs.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, man," you yell at him. "We let you get Victoria. You gotta let us get girls of our own!"<br/>
<br/>
"We all share, right? And I'm only goin' along with this because--" He wavers momentarily. Obviously, he can't bring himself to say that he's just as bad as you and Justin because he's doing it right along with you. But that embarrassment doesn't stop him from going after you. In fact, it seems to multiply his fury.<br/>
<br/>
You have to get out of this somehow, before Gordon wakes up. "Awright, this is the last one, I promise!"<br/>
<br/>
"What good's a fucking promise from you?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's the last mask! You know that! I can't pay for any more, and Justin can't either, and you're not going to. So I don't gotta swear it's the last one! It is!"<br/>
<br/>
He stops, and then makes the last noise you'd expect from him. He laughs. "So you just used your last mask to get a copy of Gordon Black?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink into the darkness. "Oh, shit! Oh, goddamn it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" He swings at you again, and catches your shin, almost knocking you down. "But you're gonna get more, you asshole. You gotta, for your sick, twisted--"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I swear it's the last! Maize! That's why I'm-- Goddamn it, I wasn't thinking! I just <i>wasted</i> our last mask on Black!"<br/>
<br/>
He suspends his blows again. "You're not shitting me about not making any more?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not shitting you! Tom's cut me off! Fucker said something about 'the economy'. Fuck that, he's just-- And Roth can't get anything."<br/>
<br/>
"So it ends now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs again. "Hope you like the taste of Black's cock!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just-- You gonna stop hitting me? Lemme down?" He grunts, and you scramble back to the floor. "Because that thing's gonna come outta him any minute now."<br/>
<br/>
"What's it matter? Let's go."<br/>
<br/>
"We can't just leave it behind. Besides, it might be useful. Pair him and Victoria?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's for you guys. When you're tired of being fags for each other you can be fags for Black." <br/>
<br/>
You make a sour face but don't reply. And it's still another whole minute before it appears on his face. You very carefully pick it up, and then you and Tsosie scamper back down the stairs with your stuff and out into the parking lot. "Shit, where's Matthias got off to?" you ask when you find the back seat empty. Tsosie just grunts. "And what were you doing with his mask in your bag?"<br/>
<br/>
"Roth called, asked me to bring it to school." It takes you a minute to pair the correct face with the name: that will certainly have been Perry. "By the way, he's gonna be ticked about you and that blank mask."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"He told me to bring it to school too. Guess he had plans for it."<br/>
<br/>
It takes a moment for certain connections to be made. "Wait, you're okay with Justin using it to copy someone, but not with <i>me</i> using it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't argue with Justin," he mutters. "Perry neither."<br/>
<br/>
"Perry?" you hollowly echo.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right, <i>Prescott,</i>" he says acidly. "I told you Roth called me. It was from your house."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Christ!</i><br/>
<br/>
You finally find Dane--he's wandered around to the tennis courts--and Tsosie takes you back to Nighthawks to pick up your car. He also lets you follow him home so you can get the stuff you need to "seal" the mask up, readying it for use.<br/>
<br/>
So it's nearly midnight when you've got it done: a mask of Gordon Black, all primed for use.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111
author_id: seuzz
title: Adventures in Babysitting
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The alarm wakes you at six-thirty, and you struggle out of bed and into the shower, dozing on your feet until the water revives you. That done, you dress and get your hair ready. You could sleep an extra thirty minutes every morning, but the look is worth it.<br/>
<br/>
Worth it for lots of reasons. Tom glowers up at you from the dining room table as you pause long enough to pile some scrambled eggs onto a slice of toast. "When are you going to get that hair cut?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"When you get that sphincterectomy," you retort. <br/>
<br/>
He sets his coffee cup down with a hard clink. "Just keep talking that way, smart guy," he says softly. "I don't have to pay for your gas money. Or your bail when you finally get busted."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds good to me. Long as I'm in jail, you'll be sleeping on the downstairs sofa." <br/>
<br/>
His nostrils flare, but he doesn't reply, and you pass on into the kitchen, to gulp some OJ straight from the carton.<br/>
<br/>
Your phone rings as you're sliding into your car. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just keeping you posted on who's being who today," Prescott chirps. "Perry's going to class as Dane. Apparently it was pretty hardcore yesterday in the basement, and he figures bein' ol' Dane will relax him. Also, makes me I think I'll stick it out here for awhile, if you don't mind."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't make a fucking bit of difference to me."<br/>
<br/>
"You kinda like being Perry, don't you?" he chuckles.<br/>
<br/>
"It sucks, but I don't get slapped. Tsosie gonna babysit the real pothead again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Has to, and he doesn't mind."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll stop by his place later. I gotta drop something off."<br/>
<br/>
"That mask of Gordon Black?"<br/>
<br/>
You almost drop the phone. "How'd you--? I mean, I was gonna tell you, but I wanted it to be a surprise."<br/>
<br/>
"Maize called me last night. That was pretty ballsy of you. Great score, too."<br/>
<br/>
"Glad you're not pissed. Maize told me you wanted that blank mask today. What were you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay, we can do it later. I picked up supplies for some new masks. Oh, there's my ride. See you at school."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And you do see him, but you don't talk to him. You do see Chelsea Cooper, though. You turn around at your locker, and she's right behind you, pressed in by a thick knot of students who don't see her and so don't jump out of the way to let her pass. She fumes, and then she catches you leering openly at her. "What do you think <i>you're</i> looking at?"<br/>
<br/>
"Preview of coming attractions." You grin.<br/>
<br/>
Red spots show in her cheeks, and she smiles tightly. "Planning on <i>dreaming</i> about me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Planning on more than that." You suck noisily on your teeth.<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes freeze and glitter, and despite your bravado your heart quails. Perry Small is now a marked man.<br/>
<br/>
And so you decide retreat is the better part of valor, and you retreat all the way to Tsosie's, in the middle of the day. You were going to stop by anyway, after school, of course, to drop off that mask. You can do it now.<br/>
<br/>
"Hola!" Dane shouts when you step in without knocking. He's standing on the couch, arms spread wide. "Como esta usted? Muy bien! Y tu? Si! Gracias!" You're startled less by the greeting than by the fact that he can remember any Spanish at all.<br/>
<br/>
"Enchiladas con carne," you retort. "Where's Maize?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maize? Donde esta la cocina?"<br/>
<br/>
Now he's got your attention. "Uh ... What?"<br/>
<br/>
"El raton se comio el queso!" He points at the floor. "El gato se comio el raton!" He giggles. "Me comi el cono!" He collapses onto the sofa, panting with suppressed laughter.<br/>
<br/>
"Maize! You on the shitter?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gimme a minute," he hollers back from behind a closed door.<br/>
<br/>
"You do something to Matthias here? He's on the wrong language setting or something."<br/>
<br/>
"I got a Spanish test today," Dane gasps, and stands up. "I gotta get to class!"<br/>
<br/>
You put out your arm, and he bounces off it, falling back onto the couch. "You ain't goin' no place, Dane. And you ain't missin' anything at school."<br/>
<br/>
"But I actually studied for it, man! You know that's, like, mind blowing?" He grabs his hair.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, blow me. Maize! You actually left this doofus unattended?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's okay. I took his keys away."<br/>
<br/>
"Not far enough." You spy them on the kitchen counter. "If you wanna hit class for the rest of the day, I can take over here."<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay. But make yourself at home."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, if he insists.</i> You slap Dane on the shoulder and mime taking a hit. He falls onto his side as he reaches into for his jacket pocket. Except he's not wearing his jacket. Nor is he wearing pants or shoes. The Dane at school will have those. He looks around in a panic. "Where's your bag?" you ask him, and then realize that's as stupid as asking him where his clothes are.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno! Shit!" He suddenly seems to notice his state of near undress. "Looks like I been playin' poker with Roth again!"<br/>
<br/>
"He'da left you with nothin' on. Never mind. I'm sure Maize has some. By the way, where do you get all your shit from? It's like you're loaded all the time."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I got a cousin." He peers around, as though he'll spot that cousin in here, and that cousin will have a couple of joints <i>and</i> his pants. "Yeah. He comps me. We go way back." He pulls your bag into his lap. "Shit, man. What a buzz kill." He hugs your bag, and sniffs.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, go back to studying Spanish." <br/>
<br/>
You step into Tsosie's bedroom and shut the door. "Look, dude, I also came over 'cos I wanted to talk to you about last night," you tell him through the bathroom door. "And about me being in the club and all."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you wait till I'm done?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Sure." You tug open his dresser drawer and peer in, confirming that Victoria's mask is there, then hop onto his bed. It's much less disgusting now, not because he's cleaned it up any, but because Perry Small is much more used to it. You cross your arms and wait.<br/>
<br/>
It's several minutes before the toilet flushes, and then several more minutes before it flushes again. Tsosie finally appears, to find you crinkling your nose. "Fuck, you don't like my shit, stay outta it," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
You just shrug and get down to business. "Look, you gotta know, nine-tenths of what I said and did last night was Small here." You splay a hand across your chest. "His instincts just kinda kicked in and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit. That was you all the way up and down, Prescott. Small wouldn't care piss about Gordon Black."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, maybe, except we were talking before we switched places, like, about Chelsea Cooper and stuff." You pick at a scab on your elbow. "How we could score a copy of her. Use Black, maybe, to get close to her. So yeah, Black was on his mind in here--" You point to your temple. "And I just grabbed the chance when I--"<br/>
<br/>
Tsosie stares back at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, didn't you guys talk about it when he came over here this morning to swap out with Dane?"<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't talk much. I talked to Justin last night."<br/>
<br/>
"I heard." You cock your head at the sound of a car starting nearby, but are concentrating on Tsosie. "Look, I know you don't like this. I sympathize. I tried getting rid of the book 'cos it freaked me out too."<br/>
<br/>
"You shoulda burned it. It's a bad thing. It's letting bad things into the world."<br/>
<br/>
You remember the scene in the basement: the wraith-like figures. Except you can't see them anymore, and can only remember having seen them. <i>They've got to have been only phantasms in Justin's fake brain.</i> "Yeah, well, we're burning it now."<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddaya mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothin'. Just the next spell." You pat your pockets. <i>Who has the key to the basement?</i> Perry must have it with him. "And we don't have any more money to keep going, I told you, we're all tapped out." You pound your leg with your fist and think about the masks that Justin said he's all ready to make up. <i>It's so easy, lying to Tsosie. He's so fucking gullible.</i><br/>
<br/>
Except he isn't. "They'll find a way to make more. Why do you think they dragged <i>you</i> in? You really think they like you?" He points at your face. "Tell me, honestly, what does Perry Small think of your bony ass?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's got a bony ass too," you retort. "And a boner for Roth." You can't help the aggressive reply, for you're more certain that he's right than that he's wrong: They're using you.<br/>
<br/>
Maize's lip curls up in a half smile. "So you <i>know</i> I'm right," he says softly. "Then get it away from 'em. Get it away from 'em before they got you so twisted up you actually think you <i>are</i> them."<br/>
<br/>
"What good would that do?" Now your heart is feeling cold. <i>He's right, you've been thinking too much like Perry.</i> "You think I'd burn it? Why don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a shit what happens to you, Prescott. Just get that damn book away from me and my friends."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, you're already halfway toward double-crossing them anyway, since you copied those spells out--</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> You jerk back so hard you hit your head on the wall. You left those copies in Justin's backpack. Which Perry now has.<br/>
<br/>
Except he hasn't. He could have left them behind when he switched into Dane's place.<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta go." You jump up and run into the living room. You don't notice that Dane is gone until you rip open the door and see that his car is gone too. You whirl and spot your backpack on the sofa. It's open, all its contents spilled out.<br/>
<br/>
You stagger back a step. Gordon's mask is gone.<br/>
<br/>
Tsosie comes out of the bedroom, to find you gasping and clutching your temples. "Then we better go find him," he says when you tell him what you think Dane has done--and who he will now be looking like.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Doubling of Gordon Black
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Fuck fuck fuck fuck <i>fuck!</i>" you yell. "Where do you think he went?"<br/>
<br/>
"School? His house?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Whose</i> house?"<br/>
<br/>
Maize sighs heavily. "Come on, we'll take my car. Maybe he's just driving around at ten miles an hour."<br/>
<br/>
He may be calm, but you're vibrating like a plucked string as you buckle yourself in. You try to think. Dane is inside Gordon's mask, you're sure. So is he thinking like Dane? Or like Gordon? Getting inside a mask can be confusing enough when you're sober, which means there's a solid chance he's thinking like Gordon. But even so, he'll have Dane inside him, and if Dane is-- "How wasted was he?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dane? He didn't have any shit on him, and I just gave him enough to keep him quiet." Tsosie stops at a sign. "So which way do we go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck me if I know." You pound your knee. "I don't know how Dane thinks, don't wanna know how Black thinks, and God in heaven won't know how their combo--"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we hafta head one way or the other. Dane's is that way--" He points. "And school's the other."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit. If he's gone to the school-- I better call the other guys." You pull out your phone. But they'll be in class, so you just text them, telling them to call you ASAP when they can.<br/>
<br/>
"Might as well check out Dane's place, then," Maize says.<br/>
<br/>
"But if he's at the school--"<br/>
<br/>
"Let the other guys find him, then. And if he's at his place, we can catch him there." He taps the clock in the dashboard. "We got an hour before classes let out."<br/>
<br/>
"Be better if they were already out. Except--shit!--Black and them have practice. If Dane--!" You bang your head against the head rest. "If Dane gets into Black's workout clothes, we'll never be able to tell them apart!"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you always this spastic?" Tsosie asks with a trace of irritation. "Small can get excited, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"How can <i>you</i> be so fucking <i>calm?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Easy. Maybe this little disaster will convince you guys to stop fucking around with the dark arts."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The Dane you texted calls back while you're still on your way to the Matthias house. "Heeyyyy!" he croaks.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, we got a crisis here," you bark. "Dane got loose, and he might be on his way back to the school."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm already here," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"No, Dane, the <i>real</i> Dane, might be showing up there!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm really here."<br/>
<br/>
You curse long and loud. "Small, are you <i>baked?</i> Dane--the real Matthias, the guy you left at Tsosie's this morning! He's driving around. He's probably on his way back to the school." There's silence on the other end. "And we think he accidentally put on Gordon's mask, so there might be <i>another</i> Gordon Black showing up at school."<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't seen Gordon, man."<br/>
<br/>
You hang up and pray that Justin calls you back soon.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't until you've been to Matthias's house and found no cars out front, and so you are able give him the full bad news. "How soon can you be here?" he asks when you're done.<br/>
<br/>
"Maize ain't breakin' any speed limits." You glare at the driver. "Fifteen minutes. We went over to Dane's first, just in case--"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'll skip last period and head over to the parking lot, see if I can intercept him before he gets in the school. But Tsosie's gonna have to be the one to talk him down. Fellow jocks and all that. This isn't a job for Will Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
You relate Justin's end of the conversation to Tsosie."You get along with Black?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one gets along with Black."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you're too late. After parking at the far end of the lot, you and Maize sprint over to the gym, where you see Prescott's head bobbing up and down. He points grimly at Dane's car, which has overleapt the curb and onto the sidewalk. "I found it here right after you called," Prescott says. "He's been on campus for thirty minutes at least."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck. They've probably run into each other already. Or any number of people have seen the two of them."<br/>
<br/>
"If so, we should check out the office," Prescott says. "That's where they'll wind up before the fucking cops show up. Maize, check out the gym. You--" He jabs you in the chest. "Cruise up and down the halls, look in classrooms. You can stand getting in trouble better than I can."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just don't give a shit about getting in trouble," you retort. "But I don't know what his last class is."<br/>
<br/>
"Dane'll be in Messier's--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know <i>that.</i> I mean Black."<br/>
<br/>
You and Prescott look at Tsosie. "Beats me. Lemme call Lynch, ask him."<br/>
<br/>
"Call him after you check the gym, then call Small." The three of you break in different directions.<br/>
<br/>
You sprint into the main school building and jog along to Messier's biology classroom. You've just peeked in through the door window and spotted Dane but no Gordon when your phone tweets. "Gimme good news," you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"Your hair looks great today," Maize retorts. "Otherwise-- Gym is empty, just a class. Locker room's empty. I'm not checking the fuck room, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's his class?" <br/>
<br/>
"He has Fernandez, but he shares it with Lynch, and he says he's skipping."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck. Then they gotta be in the office." With a sinking heart, you take off toward the front of the school.<br/>
<br/>
But you run into Prescott on the way. "No excitement there," he reports. "Unless they're back in Sagansky's office." You tell him what Tsosie said. He chews a fingernail. "Go check out the portables," he says. "That's where Dane likes to skip. I'll circle around the outer wings, meet up with you there."<br/>
<br/>
<i>How can it be so hard to find a behemoth like Gordon Black?</i> you wonder to yourself as you run. <i>How can it be so hard to find him when there's </i>two<i> of him running around?</i><br/>
<br/>
You hear voices as you round the corner of the first portable, but they in no way prepare you for the sight that greets you.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon Black is entertaining Tim Gerard, Adrian Semple, and Keith Hennepin with basketball tricks. <br/>
<br/>
He's spinning the ball on his middle finger, and then flicks it lightly onto his index finger. Then his ring finger. Finally his pinkie. He tosses it onto the back of his hand, lets it ride down his arm, lofts it over his head with his elbow, catches it with his other hand, dribbles it hard against the side of a portable a few times, then swings around to fake a throw at Semple's head. The latter ducks, and they all break into guffaws, for Black still has hold of it in the palm of a meaty hand. And all the time he's been doing this, he's been grinning and peering at them narrowly through the stream of smoke that wafts out of the thick blunt clenched in his teeth.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh in relief even as you grimace at the ticklish task of extricating Dane from this group of admirers. You look him up and down: He's in workout clothes, so he must have gotten into Black's locker. <br/>
<br/>
Gerard catches sight of you and calls out. The guy with the basketball follows his gaze, and his grin widens. "Think fast, Small," he says, and his arm goes back. You flinch, but the ball just sails up in a lazy arc and bounces on the ground four feet in front of you. "Not fast enough." He clucks his tongue.<br/>
<br/>
"Kinda weird finding <i>you</i> back here, Black," you say. He shrugs. "Maize Tsosie is lookin' for you. Wants to invite you back to his place."<br/>
<br/>
Faintly, the final bell rings. "I got practice," Black says.<br/>
<br/>
"Skip it. Someone will cover for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Funny guy."<br/>
<br/>
You look to the side as Prescott materializes at your elbow. His face passes through a half dozen reactions in quick succession. "Found him," you murmur. "Better get Maize out here."<br/>
<br/>
"He's on his way. You go find Dane, keep him under wraps," he murmurs back. <br/>
<br/>
"You mean go find Black?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean go find Perry. We don't want Dane here catching sight of himself."<br/>
<br/>
You start to argue, but then jog off. Finding the fake Dane will be better than trying to find the real Gordon. Not after your run in with Chelsea earlier today.<br/>
<br/>
You're all the way to Messier's before you remember that Dane will be heading over to Walberg's for detention. Unless he's forgotten. Unless <i>Perry</i> has forgotten. You just have to make sure he gets there, and that will count as "keeping him under wraps."<br/>
<br/>
You're just approaching the library, craning your neck, peering around and over the heads of students, when the library door opens and a massive figure steps in your way. You look up and stop cold. Gordon Black. But the fear that washes over you doubles and triples and quadruples when you see he's got his arm around Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
You still might have been okay, except that you gasp. A slightly quizzical light appears in her eyes, and then they freeze. Her lips peel back. "Gordon," she coos in a small voice. "Remember what I was telling you in the library? About <i>Perry Small?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh yeah."<br/>
<br/>
You spring away, but he's too fast, and a thick arm closes around your neck. Your heels skitter uselessly on the ground as he drags you back, and down the hall, and out the door, and along the side of a wing, and around the corner, and across the grass until you're alone behind one of the outer wings. Your bones jar and rattle as he pushes you against the wall. "Chelsea's a beautiful girl," you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." His brow furrows. Then he punches you in the stomach. Probably it wasn't a hard blow for him, but it drops you to the ground. You wheeze.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, that's enough," he says. You look up, and through your tears you see him frown distractedly. "I got a Spanish test to make up." He trudges off.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Fifth Member
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You reel to the side, falling against the wall. <i>Spanish test. Dane was going on about a Spanish test.</i> Maybe that was really Gordon back at the portables, and <i>this</i> is Dane?<br/>
<br/>
No, that's absurd. Black wouldn't be hanging around with the likes of Gerard and Semple. They're bohemian types, but they're the artsy kind, not like Roth (who hunts and camps) or Tsosie (who does sports with Lynch) or Small (who's a refugee from the respectable AP crowd). <br/>
<br/>
If these reflections weren't enough to convince you it's the real Black walking away from you, his clothes would. Levis and letterman jacket, not the kind of shit Dane would have found in his locker. You close your eyes and try to knit your intestines back into a single unit. <i>Face it: The real Gordon Black just let you get off super insanely light for saying something disgusting to his girlfriend.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your phone rings while you're still pulling yourself back together. "I'm out behind A wing," you tell Prescott in answer to his question. "I just ran into Gordon. His fist, more precisely. Never mind. What's going on there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! Follow him! Get in a fight with him! Just keep him distracted. Dane's all got in his head that he has to go to basketball practice!"<br/>
<br/>
You pant and puff and stagger to your feet. "I ain't hasslin' with Gordon anymore, man. I'm lucky he didn't rip my lungs out. Ohhhh!" You heave, and force your stomach back down. "Anyway, he said something about making up a Spanish test.  Does Gordon have Spanish?"<br/>
<br/>
"How would I know? What are you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos as he was leaving me, he said he had to make up a Spanish test." You belch, and hope it's not really blood you taste in the back of your throat. "Dane was talking crazy back at Tsosie's about having a Spanish test, and if we've got these guys mixed up-- Well, you know how hard it is to tell people apart with these masks."<br/>
<br/>
"Did he punch you in the head or something? You're not making any sense! Just follow him!"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop whining, you little fuckface. I got him in my sights now." Bending slightly double, you trot along next to the wall and watch as the distant figure of Gordon Black turns back into the school. "Yeah, he's heading off toward B wing. Like, where the language classrooms are? I don't think he's going to the gym. Where's Maize?"<br/>
<br/>
"In the gym. Tell you what, since you don't wanna shadow Gordon, I'll head over to B wing. You meet Maize. I'll call you if Gordon starts moving."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend the next hour up in the weight loft that overlooks the gym, watching practice. It's a business both tedious and nerve-wracking. Lynch is up there with you and Tsosie, and he gives you guys shit about liking to watch the jocks working out, and only giggles pleasantly when you give him shit back. He does confirm that Gordon takes Spanish, though. There are some very fraught moments when Prescott calls to say that the real Gordon is heading toward the gym, but then he tells you that his quarry has bypassed the gym for the parking lot and driven away in his Bug. When practice breaks up, the three of you go down to the gym floor and meet Black and Patterson as they come out of the changing rooms. Lynch and Patterson make noises about going up to the fuck room, but Black surprises them when he accepts your and Tsosie's invitation instead. He grunts and mutters from the back seat of Maize's car on the drive out to his place.<br/>
<br/>
He peers around Tsosie's house after stepping in the doorway. "So, you live alone or something? Gotta be nice," he says to Maize's affirmative reply. He rudely pushes your pack and shit onto the floor, and flops onto the sofa. <i>That's really Dane Matthias,</i> you find yourself thinking with no little wonder as you stare at him. <i>Sitting where I found him only a few hours ago.</i> "So what are you guys up for?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You and Maize glance at each other, reading each other's thought: <i>He's too big to just tackle and rip the mask off him.</i> You decide to sidle into things, talk him down: "You know Dane Matthias?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know him. He hang out with you guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he was here a few hours ago. Sittin' where you are." You run a tongue behind your lower lip. "Does this scene feel familiar to you, Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why would it?" He looks around. "Seen one pig sty you seen 'em all. No offense, Tsosie. I like your place."<br/>
<br/>
"How well do you know Dane?" you ask. Gordon shrugs. "You know the way he thinks?" <i>Dane's got to be inside there. You've got to talk him into acknowledging who he is, stop pretending to be Gordon.</i><br/>
<br/>
"<i>Does</i> he think?" Gordon laughs. "Guy seems all kinds of-- Thpptt!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but he's a good guy. We like him a lot. Kind of wish he were here."<br/>
<br/>
"So call him. I'm feelin' relaxed." He shifts. "I need a change of scene."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, be like Dane. Try to think like him."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon sniggers. "Got another--?" He mimes takin' a hit. "I'm glad I ran into Semple and those guys earlier. Change of scene, like I was sayin'."<br/>
<br/>
You nudge Tsosie; he pulls you along into the bedroom. "We really want him getting high like that?" he murmurs after pulling the door to.<br/>
<br/>
"If it gets him to cut loose, sure. Bring ol' Dane out from under all that--" You make a face. "And if he gets relaxed, we can take him, get the mask off."<br/>
<br/>
He sucks in a sharp breath, and opens a dresser drawer.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
An hour passes. Gordon grows less and less talkative even while he chortles more and more. He sinks lower and lower in the sofa. "This is great," he says a few times. You keep talking about Dane and his life and about how you'd like to have him show up, but your guest never seems to take any hint.<br/>
<br/>
Around five-thirty Prescott arrives. You take him into the kitchenette and outline what you're trying to do. He looks over his shoulder at the slumping basketball player. "Best to take the bull by the horn," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Lotta bull to take," you mutter as you follow him back out into the main room.<br/>
<br/>
"So, how are you feeling, Gordon," Prescott asks after crouching on the couch next to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Not much like myself," Black concedes with a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"You feeling a little like Dane Matthias?"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs again. "I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"It feels good to be Dane. Dane's got a good life."<br/>
<br/>
"Better than mine," Gordon says, and a shadow crosses his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Would you like to have his life? You could." Prescott looks forward, staring intently at Gordon. The latter stares back, then looks away. "Let me help you, Gordon," Prescott says. "Think of yourself as Dane. Say to yourself, I'm Dane Matthias." Gordon just sighs and closes his eyes. "Say it. I'm Dane Matthias."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Dane Matthias," Gordon says in a weary, neutral tone.<br/>
<br/>
The moment hangs. You expect him to pop his eyes open with self-recognition, but he just sighs again and shrugs. "Except I'm not."<br/>
<br/>
Prescott gives you and Tsosie a meaningful look, and takes a deep breath. "The thing is, you actually are. You're Dane Matthias. You're not Gordon Black. You know that. Really. Just admit it."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon smiles benignly at him. "We all got a little Dane in us, don't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"You got more than that. Your face--" Prescott grits his teeth. "Look, it's not real. That's not really Gordon's brain you're thinking with. You're really Dane Matthias. And if you let us help you, you can be Dane again."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's expression turns querulous. "What are you talking about? I may be high, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I'm going to level with you. Totally. It'll be alright, guys," he says, turning at the mutual gasp you and Tsosie have given. He lays gentle hands on Gordon's shoulders. "It's magic. You're a victim of magic."<br/>
<br/>
And he gives Gordon the whole story, about a magic book, and masks, and how Dane accidentally put on a mask that turned him into Gordon Black. Gordon listens with increasing bemusement as the tale unfolds. "Really," he says at a couple of points. "That's wild."<br/>
<br/>
"It sure is," Prescott says. "Now, if you'll just let me put my hand on your face, I can get the mask off, and you can go back to being Dane."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon stares at him with twinkling eyes, then shrugs. "Sure, it's worth a shot."<br/>
<br/>
You and Maize exhale. You lean back against the wall, for your knees nearly give out with relaxing tension.<br/>
<br/>
Prescott puts his hand to Gordon's face; the latter closes his eyes and smiles. Prescott mutters, and his hand slides across Gordon's face.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing happens. Prescott grimaces and tries again. No result. He looks at you and Tsosie nervously. "Guys? One of you wanna try?"<br/>
<br/>
You lurch forward, your feet suddenly feeling very heavy. Gordon peers at you from under half-closed lids, and smiles again as you clutch his face. You mutter the words--words that Perry Small knows quite well--and pull. Your fingers slide away, but Gordon's face remains. You try again, and let Tsosie give a try when you don't succeed.<br/>
<br/>
You and the other step back, swallowing in unison. Gordon lets out a deep sigh, then stands up. "Well, fuck, it doesn't work? I guess that means I really am who I am." He sways slightly, and too late you catch the twitch in his lips.<br/>
<br/>
He shoots out an arm, grabbing Maize by the collar, and swings him around, throwing him onto the sofa. He then kneels into him, knee in his crotch, hands on his shoulders. Maize gasps and hisses. "Now, how about you fuckers tell me again all about this book and all about these masks and what you tried doing to me."</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112
author_id: seuzz
title: Gordon Offers a Bargain
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You and Prescott exchange terrified looks. Neither you nor he are especially muscular; Maize is the only one of your crew who might conceivable stand a chance against Gordon without instantly folding. Justin might also be strong enough to stand up to him, but he's in your mask.<br/>
<br/>
"I asked you fuckers a question," Gordon says, and Tsosie lets out a high-pitched wheeze. Black must really be putting the screws to him if <i>he</i> is making noise.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just calm down, Gordon," Prescott stutters. "It was a joke, okay. We were just--"<br/>
<br/>
"Then how come I ain't laughing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because it wasn't a funny joke?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ha ha. But you're telling me Dane Matthias is walking around looking like me? What'll I find if I go home?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your parents?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's bad enough. But maybe I <i>will</i> go home."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," says Prescott. "Like I said, it was just a joke."<br/>
<br/>
"And if there's someone already there who looks like me, I know just how to explain it. I'm sure there's lots of people who'd be interested in that 'book' you were telling me about."<br/>
<br/>
Justin's good at bluffing, but these stakes are too high. "Okay. Shit," he says. "It's like we told you. We've got this magic book, and we can make these masks of people, use them to imitate other people. Dane accidentally got into a mask we made of you."<br/>
<br/>
"Show me this book, these masks." <br/>
<br/>
He doesn't wait to grind the threat home, seizing Tsosie by the top of the head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, show him!" Maize screams.<br/>
<br/>
"We can't!" Prescott shouts. "The book isn't here! It's at Justin Roth's place!"<br/>
<br/>
"So call Roth, tell him to bring it out."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm already here!" <br/>
<br/>
Maize stops screaming as Gordon relaxes a little and looks over his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm already here, Gordon. I'm wearing a mask. We all are. Except Tsosie. And you," he adds in an undertone.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's eyes shift between you and Prescott. "Masks? So who are you guys, really?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Roth," Prescott says. He hooks a thumb at you. "This is Will Prescott." Gordon looks back blankly, and Prescott points to his own face. "This guy."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know who that is." You feel a deflationary prick somewhere inside. "Where's Small?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's off pretending to be Dane Matthias."<br/>
<br/>
"And Matthias is--"<br/>
<br/>
"He's off being you. We think."<br/>
<br/>
"And who's on first," you mutter to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
You see the bouncing ball in Gordon's eye as he tries to follow it. He licks his lips. "And who's being Justin Roth?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one. But someone's gonna have to play my part. Unless I call home and--"<br/>
<br/>
"You say these masks copy memories and shit too?"<br/>
<br/>
Under the fading tan of Will Prescott's cheek, a white spot shows. "Yeah." He swallows.<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll do it. Get it." He twists at Tsosie again.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright. Shit." Prescott shuffles into the bedroom. Tsosie coughs. You look away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Justin Roth stands in the doorway of Tsosie's bedroom, arms folded, eyes wide, looking between the three of you. You could rush him in this form, but for what purpose? If you got the mask off him, he'd just revert to being Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe he's made the same calculation, for he smiles tightly. "Well, fuck a duck, fellow masketeers," he says. "It's almost like old times."<br/>
<br/>
Prescott pulls off his cap and rakes his thick hair. "So what now? You gonna go home as me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eventually. Maybe. We got stuff to talk about first. Like how come you were trying to copy Gordon Black." No one says anything. "Come on, it was <i>someone's</i> bright idea." He jerks his chin at you. "You're the one who <i>did</i> it, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Last night. We found you up in the-- up in the gym loft. Why were you there?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos I didn't feel like goin' home. And it looks like I don't have to if I don't want to. Not ever again. But what were you thinking?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help noticing the others sidling away from you. "Look, you know what we do with these things. You know we have a copy of Victoria Rodriguez."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He laughs softly, and his eyes drift toward the ceiling. "Yeah. Nice." He returns his gaze to you. "Maybe I'll spend the night here. With you."<br/>
<br/>
You shudder. "Okay, well, we want some new girls. If we got a copy of the right guy or guys-- You know, guys who hang out with the right girls--" You gulp. "Well, you hang out with a lot of cheerleaders. Kendra and Gloria and Cindy and Jessica and Eva and--" You stop before finishing the list, which would either have Chelsea's name in it, or be conspicuous for her name's absence. "And then we could get copies of--" You trail off.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I get it now." He laughs again. "Yeah, that's clever. Yeah, I could get close to some of them. You don't even need a mask of me now."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think I fucking mean? I could get 'em for you. I'm in. Right? I like your set up. It's convenient for me in a lot of ways."<br/>
<br/>
Again, no one replies for what feels like an eternity. You shift on your feet. <i>He wants in.</i> Do you and your fellow conspirators really have a choice but to let him join?<br/>
<br/>
"Well, here's the thing," Prescott finally says. "This, uh, this project that, uh, Perry here told you about, it's not something we really discussed. It's something he and, uh, him and the real Perry cooked it up without consulting with me and Tsosie."<br/>
<br/>
"Then it's three votes in favor. Me, Perry and, <i>uh</i>--" He mimics Prescott. "And, <i>uh</i>, Perry."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe you don't want to join if we don't want to do it."<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna tell me I can't join?" The air grows thick. "Be interesting to see what you fuckers think you could do to <i>stop</i> me." Electricity seems to crackle. And then he dismisses it with a wave of his hand. "But let's talk about the advantages. I could get you Cindy and Kendra and Gloria and Maria and Jessica and Eva and Yumi and Lin and Michelle." You notice Chelsea's name didn't pass his lips. "I could get you a bunch of other girls, too, right there on campus, up in the fuck room. Were you gonna try sneaking around as me at school? Look what that got you. It got you me, and now you <i>don't</i> gotta sneak around. I just get 'em for you myself. And I don't see why you don't wanna share it all with me. Don't you like me?" He asks the last question with a wry tone.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know where to look. Neither do your friends. He's right. Now that he knows all about what's going on, there's no reason to keep him out, and lots of reasons to keep him in, starting with the fact that it would be really hard to get rid of him. You give Prescott and Tsosie a querying glance, but their faces remain tight. Perry's own latent dispositions tell you how they're feeling: They don't like seeing their club crashed in this way.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, you're making me feel unwelcome," Roth says. "And I'm in. I'm most definitely in. If you guys don't wanna go for cheerleaders, well--" He shrugs. "We can just keep fucking Victoria. And if you're looking for fresh cunny, why not go for the best? Put it to a vote."<br/>
<br/>
"Do we also vote on who we copy?" you blurt out. "Chelsea wasn't on that list of girls."<br/>
<br/>
The other two suck in their breaths, and your heart hammers. But Justin shrugs. "Sure. Just remember, one of you has to play her when I'm feeling horny. That's at least twelve times a day, but there's four of you cocksuckers to suck my cock, so it'll work out evenly. I'm in favor."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd also have to--" <br/>
<br/>
"I'm still in favor." He raises his chin.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Could you really force Gordon Black into a mask of a girl if he changed his mind?</i><br/>
<br/>
You three huddle near the door. "If it's really a vote, I say 'no,'" Maize mutters skeptically.<br/>
<br/>
"Perry would vote yes," you say glumly.<br/>
<br/>
"He's not here," Prescott retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Trust me, and you know him too. He'd vote yes."<br/>
<br/>
Prescott looks back at Justin. "What happens if we vote you down?"<br/>
<br/>
He trudges over to the sofa and collapses onto it. "Then we're stuck with Victoria, and you're stuck with me." He sighs. "I won't lie. Bein' Gordon Black ain't the greatest thing in the world. If it was, you wouldna found me where you found me. It was a <i>shitty</i> week for me." He clasps his hands behind his head. "Long as Dane's bein' me, let him. An' you can put me under any other face you want."<br/>
<br/>
You huddle closer. "I still say no," says Maize, with a little more confidence.<br/>
<br/>
"Perry would still say yes," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"But you get a vote too," Prescott says. He chews on his lip, then shakes his head. "This is getting out of control. The more people we add--"<br/>
<br/>
You catch him shooting you a glance, and you can't help bridling a little. It's not just that he blames you for this mess, you can tell. It's that each new member has added new, and exponentially greater, problems.<br/>
<br/>
"I say no, too," he says at last.<br/>
<br/>
The others look at you. It's now two to two. Your vote is the tie-breaker.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121
author_id: seuzz
title: Two Against the World
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Maybe you're just giving in to temptation, but you tell yourself it's the smart play. "We need to stay on the same page," you tell the others. "We don't want one of us going off script, secretly--" You have to break off here, for you have to remember your own "off script" moment: making copies of those spells. "So I think we should go along with him."<br/>
<br/>
Tsosie looks away, and mutters darkly to himself. Prescott sucks on his cheeks, then shrugs. "Okay, we'll do it your way," he says, turning back to Roth. "How are we gonna do this?"<br/>
<br/>
"First, we buy stuff for more masks," the Justin on the sofa says. "Who can finance that?"<br/>
<br/>
Silence. Then Prescott speaks: "I've already got supplies for more." Tsosie snorts softly, and you catch him looking at you. "We can make them this weekend. But we need to get Dane back, before he does something that, well, <i>some of us</i> might regret."<br/>
<br/>
"Eh, let it wait till tomorrow," Justin says. "I'm goin' home like this, if you don't mind." He says it in a way that suggests he's not asking for permission, and gets up with a groan. The three of you part so he can pass you at the doorway. "We should get together at that elementary school tomorrow, talk then." <br/>
<br/>
He leaves. You don't linger either. The other two aren't being talkative, and you've nothing to add. And since voting against them, you definitely feel like the odd man out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Saturday's meeting at the school basement is uneventful. The fire has gone out at some point, and Prescott relights it. You flinch back as he does so, but nothing happens except that small, bluish flames envelope it. You glance over at Roth, who's staring at it with his hands on his hips. He blinks, and just turns away from it, so it appears not to have set off anything inside his head.<br/>
<br/>
It's just the three of you: Yourself (as Perry), Gordon (as Justin) and Justin (as Will Prescott). Tsosie refused to come, and the fake Dane couldn't be roused before noon, apparently. Prescott sets up the material for the masks; and once that's done he looks around with a vaguely distracted air. "Who's got the book?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Aw, shit.</i> "It's under that pile of crap," you say. "Remember, we have to use the sigil."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck. Then we can't do anything until it's done making whatever it's making."<br/>
<br/>
"You guys know what it is?" Roth asks. You shake your head. "Then I guess we get to hang out inside Victoria until it's done."<br/>
<br/>
You chew on a fingernail and peer at the fake Justin out of the corner of your eye. You've got those copies you'd made and put in his backpack. You wonder if he's found them. You briefly consider volunteering what you'd done, but decide not to--or, at least, to pretend having forgotten that you'd made them if the subject ever comes up. "So do we keep on like this?" you ask, pointing at your faces. "Perry's probably ready to get out of Dane, and then I'd--" You point at Prescott, and then point at Roth, and then point at ... nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"We have to get Dane out of the fake Gordon," Prescott says. "Any idea where we can find him?"<br/>
<br/>
"If he's acting in character, he'll be with Steve Patterson, probably up in the gym loft," Roth says. "But he might have chores. Or, if he's fucked things up, he'll be grounded. Or worse." He makes a face.<br/>
<br/>
You can't imagine anyone could ground Gordon Black.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, obviously <i>I</i> can't go up to the school and look," Prescott says. "Gonna have to be you two. You should get Tsosie. It'll look more natural that way, him and Lynch being--"<br/>
<br/>
"You lose your balls when you put that mask on?" Roth chortles. "Me and Perry'll take care of it, without Tsosie. Guy's more'n halfway to quitting the club anyway."<br/>
<br/>
Prescott shoves his hands in his pockets, but doesn't argue as you and the fake Roth leave.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you don't go up to the school. To your surprise you wind up at Justin Roth's house. "Scoping out your new place?" you ask Justin's replacement, who had taken the wheel. <br/>
<br/>
"I was here last night, remember?" he retorts. "But I gotta take care of something before we go find Dane," he says as he gets out.<br/>
<br/>
In his room, he locks the door and with a strong hand presses you back onto the bed. He reaches for your face, and you block him. But he gives you a meaningful look, and you drop your block. His grip is rough; darkness rushes in from the sides of your vision; the world shrinks to a point of light, and winks out.<br/>
<br/>
You gasp and swallow and sit up. Your head briefly throbs, and you squeeze it between your hands. You feel empty and naked and exposed, and look around sharply, wishing Perry were there with you.<br/>
<br/>
But it's only you and Gordon Black. The exposed Gordon Black. And he's literally naked, having peeled off Justin's clothes before pulling his mask off. He is immense, a giant at nearly six and a half feet, but perfectly proportioned, and bulging with muscles all over. You look away, and scoot over on the bed, so he won't come to with you ogling him.<br/>
<br/>
It's several minutes before he wakes, during which you strain to listen for approaching footsteps. This is dangerous, you and him in Justin's house, like this, without Justin or Perry after having entered as them. You wonder what has possessed Gordon to make this change.<br/>
<br/>
He sits up suddenly with a deep breath. "Oh, fuck," he says, and shakes his head. "That's kind of a relief," he mutters. "How are you--" He stops short as he looks at you. His eyes widen slightly.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, nothin'. Just a little weird talkin' to you lookin' like that. It's like I'm still talkin' to the other one."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, this is me," you say, and let your eyes fall. You can't help feeling like a disappointment to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and here I am too." He runs his fingers through his hair. "We gotta talk."<br/>
<br/>
"And you had to take your clothes off for that?"<br/>
<br/>
"You like what you see?" He smirks; you wince. "Yeah, well, you can have it, anytime you want."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gay."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a sad little douche. I don't need a partner who's gonna wilt like toilet paper left out in the rain. Look, Prescott, or whatever your name is--" He stretches and sits in Justin's chair, his legs spread wide so he can show off his cock. "It's just you and me. You know that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Here, yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Everywhere else, too. Those other guys, they're just usin' us. Using me for sure. Using you for something too."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?" Your limbs chill.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Money? You know any girls those guys might have a hard-on for?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Lisa Yarborough,</i> you think miserably.<br/>
<br/>
"Point is," he continues. "They got their little club, and they had it before we came along. I'm only in 'cos they fucked up, and that's lucky for you because they coulda pushed <i>you</i> into doing anything."<br/>
<br/>
"You think so?" You tilt your chin; his gibe has raised your hackles.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't bullshit me. You got two sets of training wheels on your tricycle. I can smell it off you and they can too. Roth especially. We gotta stick together."<br/>
<br/>
"Against what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Against whatever." He looks over your shoulder, as if watching something big and dangerous coming over the horizon. His lip curls up, showing his teeth. Then he looks back at you, and leans forward, to gaze intently into your eyes. <br/>
<br/>
"Listen," he says in a low voice. "I'm used to having a partner, someone super-simpatico. Don't think I can't handle anything, because I can. But it's better to have someone you can trust--and someone you can trust not to fuck up--watching your back." He holds your eye, and then leans back again. "Normally, that'd be Steve Patterson. It's been him and me since middle school. But he's not available, and you're the only possible substitute."<br/>
<br/>
"So why don't you go find Steve," you say, and flinch at the whine you hear in your voice. "Tell him about all this."<br/>
<br/>
"Steve-o and <i>this</i>?" he gasps. He sags back in the chair, and to your amazement you see something like fear in his eye. "Steve-o and these things," he mutters. "Fuck me if you're not trying to give me nightmares." He stares off glassily at unseen horrors. You say nothing, and neither does he, until his stare turns thoughtful. "Lynch would be a possibility, but him and Tsosie ..." He scratches his cheek. "And those guys are right about one thing, we need to keep this thing <i>close</i> to our chests. We can have fun, but it's more important that we-- That we don't accidentally fuck ourselves up." He looks at you again. "And that means it's you. It's gotta be you. And you don't got anybody except me. And if you expect me to look out for you, you gotta do the same for me. Right?" His eyebrows arch. "It's you and me, together, with no daylight between us."<br/>
<br/>
It takes a moment for you to realize what he's saying. And when it finally sinks in, your mouth falls open. "Gordon, I don't know what to--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not asking you to fucking marry me. I'm asking you to be my back up. I'm asking you--" He glances away, and then holds out his hand. It is huge and strong.<br/>
<br/>
It would be stupid to reject this overture, so you put your hand in his. He crushes your fingers. You try crushing his. He just keeps pressing tighter and tighter. Tears spring into your eyes, but you won't let go, and you won't stop trying to return his grip, foot-pound for foot-pound. Your hand feels broken when he finally releases it.<br/>
<br/>
"So, are you serious about this?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
If you are--and God knows it's astonishing, having Gordon Black asking you to partner with him--you should tell him about those copies you made of the spells.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211
author_id: seuzz
title: Finding Dane
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"If we're actually partners now--" You feel a little dizzy; you half expect Gordon to punch you out for saying something so insolent. "Then I should tell you something I did. Something I didn't tell the other guys." He listens without reacting as you tell about copying out the list of ingredients and the sigils from the book. "So what that means is, we can make masks anytime we want, even without the book. We could make some now."<br/>
<br/>
"That's good," he says. "But what were you thinking of doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I hadn't decided. I just thought I wanted some insurance."<br/>
<br/>
"Smart. Where's these copies?"<br/>
<br/>
"Justin's backpack." You spot the pack over in the corner. "But Perry's been inside Justin since--"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon retrieves the pack, looking through it until he extracts the envelope. "This it? Still sealed. Good, then they won't--" He suddenly gives you a hard glare. "You didn't make these copies while you were wearing Roth's mask, did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not. I didn't want to leave any memories inside it. <i>You</i> didn't remember making those copies, did you, while you were--"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I didn't. And that's why I wanted to take the masks off before we had this talk." His brow furrows. "Something about being in Justin's mask made me think that way. It's like <i>he</i> was thinking what we should do if we wanted to hide something." Gordon trails off, and then looks at you. "You know," he says slowly. "It could be that Roth is taking off that mask he's got on when no one else is around, and doing stuff that he doesn't want other people to know about."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
He picks up Justin's mask and weighs it thoughtfully. "I dunno. But when we get these things on again, we're only gonna talk about Dane."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Talking about Dane is one thing. Finding him is another. You drive out to the Black residence--a poky little house in a nondescript neighborhood--but you don't stop. "No car," Justin says. "He's probably up the school. Hope he's not out at Chelsea's."<br/>
<br/>
"There's a pretty good chance of that, isn't there?" you ask cautiously.<br/>
<br/>
He only gives you a look, but it's wry and amused.<br/>
<br/>
There are a few cars in the school parking lot, including Gordon's Bug. As you approach the gym's side door, you hear voices and laughter from the tennis courts, and when you see who is there, you tell Roth you'll catch up to him inside, and trot over to the others.<br/>
<br/>
Geoff Mansfield pauses in mid-serve to give you a tight smile. Lisa Yarborough smiles a little more warmly. On the other side of the net, Anthony Kirk and Brooke Galloway turn to see what's caught the others' attention. Kirk keeps his face neutrally composed. "Yo," you call, and grasp the tall chain link fence with long, slim fingers. "I missed you guys Thursday night."<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't get in anyplace," Kirk replies. "We wound up back at Kelsey's."<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay. I wound up back here." You jerk your head at the gym. "Any of you guys ever been up in the loft? Brooke? Lisa?" You hate yourself for the unsubtle insinuation you put in the question.<br/>
<br/>
"No one but assholes go up there," Mansfield retorts. He serves the ball, and he and the others slap it back and forth a few times, until Brooke sends it into the net. "But I guess that explains how <i>you</i> found your way up there, Small."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't explain how come <i>you're</i> not always there, Mansfield. But maybe you don't know how to have fun." You smirk lightly at Lisa, and she flushes a little bit. "Speaking of how to have fun," you continue. "How come you guys aren't up at the country club? They kick you out?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's a function up there--"<br/>
<br/>
"And they asked you to stay away?"<br/>
<br/>
"Since you've never been up there and aren't <i>likely</i> ever to be invited, I wouldn't expect you to understand how it works up there."<br/>
<br/>
"How much you wanna bet I couldn't get in, Mansfield?"<br/>
<br/>
"Thinking of applying for a job as bus boy?"<br/>
<br/>
"My step-dad--"<br/>
<br/>
"Can we just play?" Brooke cuts in. "It's your serve again, Geoff."<br/>
<br/>
"There's all kinds of clubs in the world, Mansfield," you say, and step back from the fence. "There's ones here at school and there's ones out there. I know you like being on the insides of things, Mansfield, and it's got to cut you all up to think that you can't get inside the ones that count here on campus."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a fuck about getting inside that kind of club," Geoff says, and jerks his chin at the gym.<br/>
<br/>
"Question is, can you <i>get</i> a fuck <i>outside</i> it?"<br/>
<br/>
His lips peel back, but he can't stammer out a retort before Lisa has murmured something at him. Little flickers of flame shoot out his eyes at you, and then he stiffly shrugs and serves the ball. It smacks straight into the center of the net.<br/>
<br/>
"Hope you can service a girl better than you can service a ball," you snicker. "Something tells me you're not getting enough practice at either."<br/>
<br/>
There's no better possible exit line, you're sure, and saunter back to the gym. If there hadn't been that fence between you, you're sure he would have flown at you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Justin chews his lip and peers past you at the house. His eyes gleam in a way that means the mental gears are whirling fast. "What are we doing here?" Gordon asks from the back seat.<br/>
<br/>
You look back; he's slouched with his arms folded, and the expression on his face combines fear and puzzlement. Dane is under that face, and he's certainly sober, and he's probably freaked out. That's the only reason you were able to get him away from Steve Patterson at the school: If he wasn't nervous about finding himself inside Gordon Black's body and life, he wouldn't have let his afternoon get wagered away in a game of "Horse" that Justin had won.<br/>
<br/>
"You know this place, Black?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a hard look. Then he looks away. "No." <i>Liar,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
"Dane Matthias lives here," Justin says. "Let's go talk to the Danester."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll stay here," Gordon says. It is only with vast reluctance that he finally relents to Roth's goading, and trudges up the walk to his own doorstep.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey fellas," Dane says cheerfully at the door to his house, and motions you in. "Offer you a little something to take the edge off?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, you do it in front of your mom?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"She shares her shit with me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's do it in the bedroom," Justin says. <br/>
<br/>
"If we can squeeze in," he laughs. "You takin' up more room than usual, Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"What does that mean?" Black's tone is belligerent.<br/>
<br/>
"It means you're fuckin' huge!" He hugs Gordon, and the other stiffens. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I think Gordon here needs a hug," Justin says after you're in Dane's room. He hops onto Dane's bed and clasps Black from behind. "Come on everyone, group hug!"<br/>
<br/>
"This is fuckin' gay," Gordon grumbles. But that's the last thing he says before you leap at him and rip the mask off. Dane Matthias vanishes into Gordon's voluminous clothes and falls back against Justin, who lays him on the bed.<br/>
<br/>
"Holy shit!" Dane gasps. "What the fuck--!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just help get his clothes off," Justin snaps as he pulls at the shirt. You're already peeling shoes and socks off. "And then let's get outta here before his mom finds us."<br/>
<br/>
"She's out in the vegetable--"<br/>
<br/>
"Get that jacket off! I s'pose he won't miss his shorts or shirt."<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, it's the work of less than a minute to get the restored Dane divested of his things, and then the three of you rush back out to the car, and Justin peels away. "Oh, fuck me, but that was intense," he laughs, and throws his head back in a howl. He punches you in the shoulder. "Wouldn't you pay, like a million bucks to be inside Dane's head when he wakes up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm inside it now," says the Dane in the back, "and I don't know what's going on."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's hope it's the same with him. Go ahead and get outta that mask!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure. But doesn't someone hafta--" He points at you.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll talk about that on the other side. Just get it off."<br/>
<br/>
"He's right, you know," you say when Perry is unconscious. "I'm gonna have to take this off, and what happens then?" You gasp as he puts Gordon's mask in your lap. "Are you serious?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not putting Small in it," Roth says. "I want to take the weekend off, at least. And you're the only one I trust with my head. You're volunteered." He gives you a wink. "There's compensations."<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you tremble, and maybe you vibrate, when you think of what those "compensations" include.<br/>
<br/>
"And you'll find a coupla hundred bucks in my dresser," Roth continues. "Use it, and you know what to buy." From the backpack at your feet he pulls out the envelope with the copied spells.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He drops you off in front of your house: the fourth house you've claimed as "yours" in the past week. You watch as he drives away, and a very pale and confused-looking Perry gazes back at you through the rear window.<br/>
<br/>
You go inside, and are relieved to find that it's empty. You <i>don't</i> want to run into his dad. In the bedroom you find the money and Gordon's cell phone. The latter rings almost as soon as you pick it up. It's Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
"Pookie?" she says in a cooing voice. "Where have you <i>been?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," you gulp. "I went off and forgot my phone." <br/>
<br/>
You expect an outburst, but she continues to moan. "Can we get together? Please? It was so <i>nice</i> with you yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
You almost swallow your tongue. You're supposed to get to work on those masks. But one of those "compensations" is sounding very insistent.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111
author_id: seuzz
title: How to Screw Four People in One Smooth Move
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can make masks any time. "Yeah, let's get together. Where? Your place? Or maybe--"<br/>
<br/>
"My place," she says. You grimace: You'd much rather it be the fuck room. "You were so <i>sweet</i> yesterday," she moans. You hear her giggle and breathe softly into the receiver. Then she hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
More plausible lies to tell yourself: The real Justin needs to know where you are, so you call him up. "Can you guess who this is?" you snicker.<br/>
<br/>
"Umm ... There's a couple of possibilities," Prescott says.<br/>
<br/>
"Is dad still bugging you about getting that job at his work?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dude!" he exclaims after a pause. "Are you fucking with me? Gordon let you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"He insisted." You stretch an arm and scrape at the ceiling with your fingertips. Your whole body is tingling with anticipation. "Yeah, he left me in charge of his life and everyone in it for the next little while."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa!" His gasp then turns into a snigger. "So, are you going to--?"<br/>
<br/>
"On my way over there now," you grin. This is <i>really</i> why you wanted to talk to him. "Yeah, she called, and she was <i>begging</i> to get myself inside her."<br/>
<br/>
Prescott pants. "Oh God, that is so--! Wait, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, what's Black gonna think if, you know ..."<br/>
<br/>
"The way I figure it, he'll want me to keep her happy. He'd be pissed if he got back here and found out she was mad at him. And she'll be mad if I don't--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just be careful. The guy's psycho over her."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if I'm gonna get fucked, I might as well get fucked for fucking her as for <i>not</i> fucking her."<br/>
<br/>
He repeats his warning, and you wrap up the call. You change clothes, putting on fresh underwear and Levis and socks, and pulling on a tight t-shirt and a short-sleeve button-up shirt that binds tightly to your massive chest and bulging biceps. You brush your teeth and slosh around some mouth wash. Then you top your ensemble with his dirty, backward turned ball cap, tug out the fringe of your bangs, and grin wolfishly at yourself. Your cock strains at the front of your pants.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chelsea greets you at her door, and you play it cool, letting her just slip an arm around your waist, and you wrap an arm around her. She barely comes up to your shoulder as she leads you through the living room, where you nod vacantly at her older brother, who's slouched on the couch watching a ball game. Then she takes you upstairs and closes the door.<br/>
<br/>
She faces you, face turned upward with brightly shining eyes. You twinkle back at her, and impulsively lift her up, balancing her easily on your forearms. She puts her arms around your neck and grins maniacally back. You kiss, and you let her take the lead. Her mouth is warm and tastes faintly of fruit and spice. Tongues slide over each other. Then she breaks away and buries her face in the side of your neck. You breathe in the fragrance of her hair.<br/>
<br/>
You hold her in this way for a minute, then lower yourself onto the foot her bed, with her in your lap. She leans back, and gazes at you with a rapturous sigh. "It's so nice, just being with you," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
You just grunt back. You yourself wouldn't have any idea what to say to this lovely creature, and Gordon himself has no way with words.<br/>
<br/>
She lowers her eyes and smiles wistfully. "Are you any better? Yesterday--"<br/>
<br/>
Ah yes, yesterday. When it was Dane inside this mask, freaking out hard, you can tell. <br/>
<br/>
She had called him after school, and he'd come out. Chelsea had read his distracted mood, and delicately drawn him out. Gordon has enough problems that Dane could hide himself behind them, and he'd fallen to his side on the bed and complained bitterly about home life. His dad was being an utter dick again, and it had gotten so bad that his mom had left for another one of her periodic "visits" to her sister, leaving Gordon alone to bear the brunt of a paternal anger itself doubled and tripled by her abandonment. He'd groaned and cursed and even wept a few hard-pressed tears of maudlin self-pity. Chelsea had caressed him and held him; he'd responded by curling up even more tightly. (Probably Dane was freaked out further by trying to figure out what to do about her gestures of affection.) She had kissed him all over, leaving him wrung out with feelings of arousal and terror and confusion. He'd howled and broken down and pounded the bed with a fist, and when it was all over he'd curled up in a ball, around which Chelsea had tried to wrap herself. Then he'd sniffed and snorted himself back into a semblance of self-control, and let her try to entertain him. Things had gradually turned daffy. Dane, for all his cotton-headed idiocy, is a sweet-tempered puppy dog underneath, and had responded well. He'd laughed and giggled and relaxed as she played with his fingers, trying out different shades of her own nail polish on him. He'd wriggled out of his shoes and let her paint his toenails. He'd even gone so far as to let her do him up in make up, and she had laughed and prattled and teased him, and made out lightly with him. He had dozed upstairs while she went down to dinner, and when that was done they'd washed all the stuff off him, and she had sent him home, shyly running her fingers up and down him all the way down the stairs and into the hallway and at the door. They had parted with a chaste and tender kiss.<br/>
<br/>
"You were great yesterday," you murmur. "My head--" You grasp her tightly. "It was like there was someone else inside it."<br/>
<br/>
"I kind of liked him," she says. "I mean, I'm real sorry you were hurting and everything, but ..." She trails off.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon Black is not the kind of person to feel--let alone <i>show</i>--vulnerability. And, in truth, in his experience Chelsea responds passionately to his aggression and bullying machismo at least as often as she is enraged by them. "You helped put me back together again," you reply. You squeeze her. "Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're welcome." She seems disappointed that the "gruff" Gordon is back, and sighs. "So what do you want to do?"<br/>
<br/>
You fall onto your back, pulling her down with a gasp onto your chest. You peer up at her a moment, then wriggle out from under her and turn onto your side. "Well, anytime that <i>you're</i> hurting--" You lightly pinch her ass. "Just tell me."<br/>
<br/>
She giggles, and then her mouth turns prim. "Have you thought anymore about I said about Seth and Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
You wince, and then wipe the expression from your face as she frowns. "It really chaps you, doesn't it?" you say. "Him and her gettin' all sloppy with each other."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care about that. Cindy can do it with anyone, and Seth too. I'm thinking of <i>you,</i> pookie. Seth--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>fuck</i> Javits. Me and Steve run the team. He can't--"<br/>
<br/>
"But he can make <i>trouble</i> for you." Her golden-peach complexion curdles. "Him and Cindy, walking around like--"<br/>
<br/>
"So you want me to bust them up. You want me to get in his face and tell him if he doesn't dump Cindy's ass--"<br/>
<br/>
Her lip curls in a grin. You see the opening, and move swiftly to exploit it.<br/>
<br/>
"You want me to shove him into a locker and step on his feet and put my arm on his throat and tell him that if he doesn't dump the tramp and dump her hard, dump her in front of the team and in front of her friends, that I'll bust him from the squad and bust his ass every day until he runs squealing to a new school."<br/>
<br/>
"You could do it," she says, and her breath comes in hungry gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck yeah. Nothin' easier. You want me to make him hurt." Her nostrils flare. You prize her legs apart with your knee. "You want me to fuck him until he cries."<br/>
<br/>
With a whimper she rolls onto her back, and you roll on top of her, holding yourself up with one elbow. With your free hand you undo your belt and top button and zipper, and pull your cock free through the slit at the front of your boxers. "No one fucks with me, Chels," you growl in her ear. "I don't even let 'em get close enough to try."<br/>
<br/>
"If you do this for me, Gordon--"<br/>
<br/>
"And Cindy?" You run a hand up her skirt and twitch down her panties. "Steve'd like to get with her. A couple of times. And then drop her from the top of a very high place."<br/>
<br/>
"Ohh!" She gasps--maybe at the thought of the humiliation of her rival, and maybe the touch of your iron cock as you slide it into her. <br/>
<br/>
"And then there's just you and me, lookin' down at her." You swallow as she throws her legs around you and squeezes hard. "Watching us. Watching <i>you,</i> seein' what <i>you</i> got with me, what <i>she</i> can't have. This is all for you, Chels." You pump up and down inside her, slow and regular. It's like molten gold down there, running up and down your cock. "Everything I got is <i>yours.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You take it slowly and methodically, drawing it out, tamping yourself back when it threatens to explode prematurely. She squeezes her eyes shut and turns a bright red. But when she sucks in a sharp breath and bites down on her lower lip, you draw back and then ram it home hard, hammering your seed into her. Her face swells with suppressed ecstasy.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Three hours later you're alone in the fuck room with a porn magazine, a beer in one hand and your rigid cock in the other, when your phone rings. It's the fake Justin--the guy whose place you're taking. "So what am I missing?" he asks.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Gordon Yells at Gordon
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You massage your forehead. "I'm at the school, if you wanna come up," you say. "And you might want to."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beat the shit outta me?"<br/>
<br/>
A pause. "What'd you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I saw Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" he asks warily.<br/>
<br/>
"She was ... affectionate."<br/>
<br/>
A longer pause. "Huh. Well, I told you there'd be compensations."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. So, the two of us--"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't gotta paint me a picture. I can live with it. I knew something like that was bound to happen."<br/>
<br/>
"I figured you'd want me keeping her happy."<br/>
<br/>
"Naturally." He falls silent a moment. "I guess when we swap back I can pretend it was <i>me.</i>" He snickers. "Just make 'em happy memories, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do my best. What about you? Roth can be pretty good with--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gettin' together with a girl tonight. Dude knows some tricks I'll have to remember later. If Chelsea will let me try them," he adds glumly.<br/>
<br/>
But you're not done with the confessions. "There's something else you need to know." You take a deep breath. "I promised Chelsea I'd break Seth and Cindy up."<br/>
<br/>
That provokes an even longer silence. "Fucking pussy," he finally says. "I know you wanted to get it on with my girlfriend, but that's a fucking price too far."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the deal? So they break up. Chelsea gets to bust Cindy back into place, and I--<i>we</i>--get happy inside her."<br/>
<br/>
"It's the fucking principle," he snarls. "Chelsea's always trying to run my fucking business, and now you've--"<br/>
<br/>
"So maybe I double cross her, don't follow through."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>will</i> fuck you up if you try that. Chelsea'll-- You're in my fucking head, you goddamned little-- <i>You</i> just think about what she'll do if--"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright. Fuck."<br/>
<br/>
"Right." His voice turns cold. "You're gonna have to stay there till it's done, you understand? Done and blown over. Which means <i>you're</i> gonna have to talk Steve-o into going along with it. Think you can handle him? Oh, what am I saying, you can't even handle Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, don't <i>you</i> get on my ass," you snarl. Since you're in Gordon's mask, you might as well use his own belligerence against him. "You want me cleaning up after these messes, just get out of the way. Until you tell me otherwise--" <br/>
<br/>
Suddenly a rippling pain spreads over the crown of your head, and you feel your hair standing on end. Your vision dissolves in a red mist. <br/>
<br/>
"Until you tell me otherwise, <i>I'm</i> Gordon Black, not <i>you!</i>" you bellow. "And as long as <i>I'm</i> Gordon Black, <i>I</i> fucking own this goddamned school! You got that? Not you, not Patterson, not nobody but <i>me!</i>" You fall forward in a hunch, your free hand balling up into a fist. "So first of all, <i>fuck you!</i> Fuck you until you have to shit out your ears because your sphincter's dribbling down the side of your leg! Second of all, if you think I'm going to fucking let fucking Patterson put my fucking nuts in a fucking purse you can go <i>fuck</i> yourself! Fuck yourself so hard they'll need the jaws of life to pry your cock out of your colon! And if you don't think you're talking to <i>me,</i> you pussy-faggot little cum-sniffer, I'll introduce that pussy you keep up your asshole to a ten-inch rod of pain! Do you <i>hear</i> me?" There's a frozen silence on the other end. "I said, <i>DO YOU HEAR ME?!</i>" A hard spike seems to drive itself into the middle of your forehead, and you fall over, clenching your eyes shut.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, just keep acting like me," he says quietly, "and I won't have cause to complain, will I?"<br/>
<br/>
"You fuck! You <i>fuck!</i>" You roll onto your back, forearm draped across your forehead. "You stuck me in this place, so you're gonna let me have the fucking run of it, you hear? And you're shitting yourself backwards and through your teeth if you try telling me otherwise! <br/>
<br/>
"And don't tell me what I can fucking do with Chelsea, either!" you scream. "You get that? If I wanna take her out front and screw her on top of the flagpole with her panties over my head-- If I wanna blow my cum all over her face while she's sitting and shitting all over herself in a tub of pudding in the middle of the cafeteria in front of everyone at lunch-- If I wanna fucking glue you to the gym wall and fuck her doggie-style in front of you while bouncing a ball off your fucking face, I <i>goddamned will!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," he says in a very mild voice.<br/>
<br/>
"You just come over here and try taking that tone with me," you growl in a voice so low and raw you can taste the blood on the back of your throat. "You're on your way to cocking up your life so good, they'll find you hanging in a gas station restroom and bury you in the--"<br/>
<br/>
"You sound just like Dad, you know that?"<br/>
<br/>
You choke hard, and your mouth stretches back in a wide, voiceless scream.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," he says in a very quiet tone. "Have as much fun as you can. Fuck up as much as you want. I won't kick. Just try to make it through the next week--"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Week?!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"However long it is. On Monday you can start taking it out on all the assholes at school. Take it out on Steve-o when you tell him about Seth and Cindy. He needs a pop in the jaw anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"You're sounding very calm about things," you snarl.<br/>
<br/>
"Consider where I am," he says. "It's interesting, you know, being someone else. You get this kind of perspective on people and things, yourself included. Like looking back at the Earth from the Moon. Or like a parallax effect, with everything shifted by--"<br/>
<br/>
"What the <i>fuck</i> is a <i>parallax?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "Never mind. Just keep patrollin' the halls, layin' down the law."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you better fucking stay out of my way, Roth!"<br/>
<br/>
"Talk to you later." He hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
You force yourself to relax your grip on the phone before you break it like you've broken phones before. Dad's already in a fucked up place, and if you-- You snort and blow, and--trembling all over--get up and tuck yourself back together and button up your pants. You need to focus on something until you've got all that rage bottled back up where it won't hurt anyone except-- Something in your gut slips and slides around. You take a deep breath, put your cap back on, and go downstairs to get a ball. You drill it into the gym floor, hitting the same precise spot, for a few minutes, and then methodically start swishing it through the basket. For ten minutes you don't miss a single shot.<br/>
<br/>
So you're much calmer--though it's a calmness borne of grim exhaustion rather than serenity--when the side door opens and Steve Patterson saunters in. He's got Kendra Saunders nestled in his arm. He stops and puckers his cheeks at the sight of you. She pales a little bit under her dark skin.<br/>
<br/>
You turn away and sink another shot, doing your best to ignore them. They pass on around behind you toward the stairs. There they pause, and with a sharp pat to her ass Steve sends Kendra up. He turns back to you. "Anything up there you need to fetch?"<br/>
<br/>
"How long you gonna be?"<br/>
<br/>
"As long as it takes."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll be up in five minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"Hardy har. Anyway, I thought you were hanging out with the Breakfast Club."<br/>
<br/>
"Pshh! Sometimes you need a break, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know." He looks over his shoulder. "I don't intend to be long, if--" He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"Take as long as you want."<br/>
<br/>
"See you Monday, then."<br/>
<br/>
"I want the place tomorrow," you call after him. "All day. And I don't want anyone scratching at the door, so call Lynch and tell <i>him</i> to keep scarce too."<br/>
<br/>
"You and Chelsea reach a détente?"<br/>
<br/>
"A fucking what?" <i>All these smart guys with their fancy words.</i> "It's my business, not yours."<br/>
<br/>
"No witnesses, huh? Well, if you need to hide the body when you're done with her, you can call me."<br/>
<br/>
You just grunt, and he goes up. A minute or two later, though, Kendra comes down and hands you your phone. Her face is pinched. "Chelsea call you?" you ask with a malicious smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"Any time you want, babe. But take your titties out of that wringer before you get busy with Steve. He doesn't like a girl who can't smile while sucking cock."<br/>
<br/>
"I said fuck you!" She turns.<br/>
<br/>
"It's for your own good. She tell you what you're paying for?" That causes her to pause on the stairs. "Oh, I see. She <i>didn't</i> tell you. Or she didn't tell you were paying for something? Oh yeah." You set the ball twirling on your finger tip. "It's Chelsea's world, Kendra. And all of us? We're just hanging on for dear life as it spins."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Actually, you <i>do</i> feel grateful to Chelsea for bullying Kendra into giving Steve a blow job. It'll make it easier to bring him along when you tell him what you need to do to Seth. You don't mention it, though, when you call Chelsea up thirty minutes later, to coo and murmur soft things at her, reassuring her that you're thinking of her every minute of every day. Actually, you're sitting in your Bug in front of the crafts store studying the list of materials you need to buy. That's why you want the fuck room tomorrow: as a lab where you mix can everything together.<br/>
<br/>
And then another thought occurs to you: Instead of buying stuff here, you could go back over to the elementary school and collect the material Justin had bought. That would get you the stuff that you and Gordon want while also taking it out of the other guys' control.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Thing in the Basement
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're practically at your destination when the flaw in your plan hits you: You don't have the key. You drive around the neighborhood for a bit, considering various options. Maybe you could use a bolt-cutter; then you could blame the disappearance of the material on the maintenance guys finally checking the basement. Oh, but then there's that <i>thing</i> burning away down there. If the rec center staff had gotten into the basement, they'd have done something about <i>it</i> as well.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, you just decide to go get the key from your doppelganger. A slight tremble runs through you when your real dad opens the door. He looks up at you squarely and directly: <i>He</i> isn't intimidated by Gordon Black. "Will!" he calls back into the house. "Visitor!" You stammer out an introduction under your fake identity when he asks your name. It feels weird having your dad looking at you as a stranger.<br/>
<br/>
Prescott suppresses a small smile as he appears, and follows you out into the front yard. "Come to brag? How was she?"<br/>
<br/>
"She was awesome, and her boyfriend was totally fine with it. Told me to screw her twice a day and five times on Sundays."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you lying--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not lying. But I need the key to the school basement. I'm gonna move that stuff up to the gym. It'll be safer up there. Closer, too."<br/>
<br/>
He mulls this. "Don't people go up there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but we don't get in each others' shit, and I can hide it."<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna have to start lettin' me and the other guys up there."<br/>
<br/>
"I can do that." You grasp him by the belt and hoist him up onto his toes. "You wanna be my new special friend at school?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay. But in that case I'd rather the stuff stay where it is."<br/>
<br/>
You let him go. "It's only until we make the stuff." You stare at him until he relents and hands the key over. You twirl it on your finger. "Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"When do I get a turn in that mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"When Gordon says you can. Which means probably never. Nothing personal, you understand? It's just that Prescott's someone he thinks he can push around, so, you know, he's not a threat, even when he's looking like this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is <i>that</i> what Gordon thinks?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's what everyone thinks. Fuckin' interesting, finding out what people think of you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You'd forgotten, until you get there, that your erstwhile colleague had not only deposited the supplies in the basement, but that he'd also got most of them sorted and set up to begin executing spells. So after pulling at your nose for a few minutes, you decide to get the stuff made up while you're here. You can then tell him, at school on Monday, that Patterson got into the stash while on a loft-cleaning spree and threw it all out; that way you'll not only have their supplies, you'll have covered up the fact that you actually stole them. You can cover your tracks even more completely if you come back over to the basement and cut the lock off the door; that way it will look to Justin like it's just a run of extraordinarily bad luck.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but you'll need to wait until that new project is done. You glance back at it: the fire has gone out. It has also settled into a solid mass. No longer is it a pile of earth, but a slag-colored cylindrical thing. You examine it more closely as you advance on it with the matches Justin had left behind. There are three rents in it. One slices up almost halfway through the cylinder from one narrow end, and two rents on either side give it--<br/>
<br/>
Hang on. They almost look like arms. And the rent at end almost gives it legs. A blob-like ball at the other end completes the impression that you're looking a very crude-looking mannequin.<br/>
<br/>
You light a match and flick it at the mass. It doesn't catch. Nor does the next match. Even when you set the third match directly against it and hold, it doesn't catch fire.<br/>
<br/>
That means it's done, right?<br/>
<br/>
You pull the book out from underneath--and notice that it isn't the least bit marked or singed--and study the spell. It's in Latin, of course, but Gordon's phone let's you get online for a translation. Sure enough, it's not reigniting means it's all done. You turn the page.<br/>
<br/>
The reverse side contains an explanation, and it takes you a good while to get it figured out. But when you do, you give a low whistle: It's a magical slave.<br/>
<br/>
By itself, apparently, it can't do anything. But if you put a mask onto it, it will come to life in the form of the person whose image is contained in the mask. It will move and speak and act just like that person, but will be under the control of-- Now, what exactly is <i>essentia</i> and where does it come from? The word doesn't appear in the spell itself. But you have to assume that when Perry put the goods together, he put everything in that got called for, because the damn thing is finished. To test it out, though, you'll need a mask.<br/>
<br/>
You've only got Gordon's mask, though.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Gordon Black sits up and swings his legs off the table. You can't help taking a step back. He's totally naked, which only emphasizes his size and strength. He locks eyes on you, and a faint smirk appears on his face. "You're wearing my stuff, you little douchebag."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I--" You take another step back as he slides off the table and advances to gaze contemptuously down at you. A little bit of spirit rallies inside you. "Look, you're a slave, right, so you don't need clothes." He says nothing. "You <i>are</i> a slave, aren't you?" you say, and instantly regret phrasing it as a question.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes gleam, but he doesn't say anything. His smile widens in a way you don't like. He cocks his head and regards you. He sucks his teeth. He looks at the ceiling, in a way which suggests he is pretending to ponder your question, and doesn't mind that it is obviously only a pretense. And when he looks back down, his grin is far from reassuring. "Sure. Let's go with that. I'm a slave. What do you want me to do? You little douchebag."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, first, stop calling me a douchebag."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you say, you sad little prick." He chuckles noiselessly. "You got any brighter ideas, you stupid little excuse for a--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just be quiet."<br/>
<br/>
He rolls his eyes, and murmurs something in the back of his throat.<br/>
<br/>
Well, this is interesting, and not in Justin's "psychological" sense. You've got a double of Gordon Black, albeit an enslaved version. (Albeit an enslaved version that sure isn't acting much like a slave; it's acting like Gordon Black pretending to be a slave.) This could be useful. You could send it back to his house in your place so that <i>you</i> don't have to-- Oh, but where would you go? Back to your own home? Then Justin would have to go back to his, and Gordon would have to-- No, there's not enough masks to go around to put this thing to immediate use.<br/>
<br/>
While you're pondering this, the slave-Gordon has wandered over to where the stuff is set up. You eye it nervously but silently until it picks up the spell copies you'd set out. "Hey, put those down."<br/>
<br/>
"What are they?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're-- You know what they are. They're copies of--" You close your mouth. It looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow, then advances in two huge strides to wrench the book from your grasp. "Give that back!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on." He pushes. You can only pant as he opens the book and compares your copies to spells in the book. "Huh. Oh, I see."<br/>
<br/>
"I need those for--" You grab at the papers, but he holds them up out of your reach. He laughs again. <br/>
<br/>
And then he hands them to you while keeping the book. "Get on with it, then. Don't mind me. I'll be over here catching up on things." He lopes back over to the table and sits on it, opening the book.<br/>
<br/>
You glare and swallow, but as long as he's quiet--<br/>
<br/>
You return to the work. It's slow going, because you keep glancing back at the Gordon-thing, but it seems totally absorbed in the book, checking its contents against something it's looking up on the phone. <i>Translating?</i> It must be, since he looks up a few times to issue directions on how to put the mask materials together.<br/>
<br/>
After an hour's work, you have five basic masks ready, along with some fresh mind bands a container of sealant for attaching the latter to the former. You gather up the rest of the materials and--with pants drooping--put them up in Gordon's car. You take a deep breath before returning to the basement.<br/>
<br/>
The thing looks up at you from under its lids as you approach. "I need to take that mask off you," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Really. You and what--" He bites his lip and grins over the bitten-off word.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on. You're a slave. You have to do what I say."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm." He ponders your request. But this time it looks like he's giving it very careful consideration. "Okay," he says at last. "That'll probably work for me."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm so glad we see eye to eye," you say, tilting your head back so you can look him in the face.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he drawls. "See you on the other side, you little douchebag." He lays back on the table.<br/>
<br/>
It still takes all your courage to reach for his face. His lips twitch into a smirk just before you rip it from his face. He instantly reverts to a stone-like thingamabob. <br/>
<br/>
Well, this has been a nasty surprise. Do you tell the guy back at your house about the thing, or wait for him to discover it for himself?</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122
author_id: seuzz
title: Gordon's Dad
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Telling Justin would mean explaining what you were doing here all this time, and letting him have the product of your labors, so you decide to keep your mouth shut. And maybe its bad attitude was a product of the Gordon mask. When Justin finds it, he'll probably use your own mask to bring it to life; you hope the slave-Prescott will be more mannerly.<br/>
<br/>
You slip the book back under the thing and put Gordon's mask back onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You'd hoped that getting back to being Gordon would shed some light on what that <i>thing</i> was thinking, but you find nothing there but memories of daunting a very skinny and silly-looking fellow in laughably over-large clothes, and of studying the book. The only thing you can find that's new--and it's a rather scary discovery--is knowledge of what is in the next spell, the one that comes after the spell that created that hulking and extremely uncooperative slave. Of course, it doesn't tell you what the new spell makes, but you're not keen to find out either, because of one key ingredient:<br/>
<br/>
It requires a human body.<br/>
<br/>
Well, let Justin worry about it when he finds it. Tsosie will <i>definitely</i> not let him and Small try it out even if Justin himself becomes overcome with curiosity, and you're pretty sure that even Gordon would blanch at it. Let whatever that spell does remain a mystery.<br/>
<br/>
Every nerve of your body vibrates when you pull up in front of the house, and your stomach turns a series of Olympic-style somersaults. Your dad's car is out front. You take a few minutes to steady yourself before going in, but you have all your feelers out.<br/>
<br/>
He's sitting at the kitchen table, back to you, hunching over something. You close the door firmly, but he doesn't turn around. You step into the kitchen, which you have to go through in order to get to your bedroom. There are no dinner fixings out. "Hi," you say, keeping any tremble out of your voice. "Want me to go pick us up some burgers for supper?" <br/>
<br/>
He says nothing. He doesn't even move. You linger a moment, to give him every opportunity to respond, but he doesn't. Your fingers twitch, and the strap of your backpack slides down a little. But if he isn't going to respond, there's no sense standing here like an idiot until he calls you an idiot for just standing there. You go into your bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
You don't close the door, though you'd give anything to be able to shut it and lock it and not come out. But you could sense the waves of anger coming off Russell Black, and if you hide here he'll just come to find you, and it will be worse than if you go back out and take it in the kitchen. You take several deep breaths, and after dropping your pack on the bed, go back out.<br/>
<br/>
Now you're facing him, and you can see what he's studying. It's your homework. A math book and a quiz. The last quiz, on which you got a D-minus. You're seized by nausea.<br/>
<br/>
And then he speaks: "Where were you today?" he asks in a very quiet voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Around and about. Hanging out." You can't tell him you were studying; he'd never believe it.<br/>
<br/>
"You see Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea's a good-looking girl. If I was twenty years younger and she were <i>my</i> girl, you couldn't keep me away from her."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you do when you're with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you know. Hang out. Talk. Sometimes--" your voice catches. "Sometimes we do homework together."<br/>
<br/>
"You help her with her homework?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." Your voice rises in pitch from the strain.<br/>
<br/>
Now he raises his head a fraction, and the icy blue eyes fasten on you. "You ever work on your <i>own</i> homework when you're with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. All the time."<br/>
<br/>
His jaw muscles twitch. He stabs the quiz with a short, strong forefinger and slides it toward you. "So you're just stupid, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Dad, that quiz-- It was a pop quiz, and my head was-- We've been practicing, you know, for the season--"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think you're actually going to be able to hang onto a girl like Chelsea when you're working in a gas station?" You hear the vibrating rage under the very quiet tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Dad! Chelsea and me, we--!" You stammer to a halt. <i>Were you actually going to say that the two of you "really love" each other?</i><br/>
<br/>
He stands up. He's a few inches shorter than you, but he's as powerful as a bull. For most of your life he's been immensely bigger than you, and you have seventeen years experience of him as the paternal figure. And he's a cop. <br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, you are no longer inside Gordon Black, captain of the Westside basketball team and triple-alpha jock. You're inside Gordon Black, a terrified five-year-old who tiptoes around the house he shares with an F5 twister: a thing of immense power and arbitrary caprice. <br/>
<br/>
Your dad doesn't step around the table. He pushes it out of his way, its feet screaming over the linoleum. He advances three steps until he's right in your face, lightning playing in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me explain <i>women</i> to you, son." You quail at the word "son," which only ever comes out in the worst of times. "They only marry <i>up.</i> The only reason you have Chelsea now is because you're in high school, and grades don't matter. All that matters is being the <i>big man.</i> The captain of the basketball team."<br/>
<br/>
"You're the one who told me I had to--"<br/>
<br/>
You feel his fist on your jaw almost before you see his arm move; and you saw the flash in his eyes well before he put his arm in motion. Still, you didn't flinch or back away from it. Agonizing pain shoots through your face. But the blow is only half the reason you stumble to your knees and stay there, face down. It's what he expects, and if you don't humble yourself this way he'll hit you repeatedly until you do drop.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right, you always do what I tell you. Except you don't. You little cock up. You mother shat you out, and you've always been and always will be a little piece of shit because shit knows nothing. Just have your fun with Chelsea and fuck around with her. You'll have her until the end of the year, and maybe not even that long. Because you know what happens then? The instant you graduate, the world changes. I know her type, the little cunt. Always chasing bigger and bigger men. And out in the real world, it's the men on their way up who count. The smart ones, the ones who study and have their eye on the bottom line. All the ones you look down on now, because you're too fucking stupid to realize that in less than a year you'll be looking <i>up</i> at them."<br/>
<br/>
He seizes your hair by its roots and pulls your face up. "Your friend Steve, for instance. What I wouldn't give to have had <i>him</i> as my boy instead of you, you little filth. I knew him the moment you brought him over, but you were too stupid to see it. He knows the game. He doesn't get bad grades on <i>his</i> quizzes, does he? <i>Does he?!</i>" Froth and spittle fly from his lips.<br/>
<br/>
"No sir," you gasp, and you fight back the tears of pain and humiliation welling up in the bottom of your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"No he doesn't. He's got his eye on the long ball. He plays it cool and he watches. Watches and waits. You know what I think?" His grip on your hair tightens. "He watches you and he watches your little cunt and he <i>knows</i> she's a nice little apple that'll be ripe for the plucking and for the fucking when the year is over. Enjoy her for the next year, you sad little sack of cum and shit, because in a year she'll be turning tricks for your best friend. And neither one will look back at you, except when they need to stop at the gas station for a fill up."<br/>
<br/>
He shoves you away, and you sink back on your haunches. "And you just <i>try</i> to study now," he growls. "It's too late. You've already pissed your life away."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at the floor, blinking through wet eyes, and the click of his shoes as he leaves the kitchen for the living room sound like muffled gunshots. When he's gone you get slowly to your feet. You gather up the book and papers from the table and retreat to your bedroom. You are no longer hungry.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You only get through the evening by clinging to one thought: You are not really Gordon Black. You're only impersonating him for a little while. For a week, maybe. Get through the week, and you can go back to being yourself, or someone else.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe there's another way. There's that thing back in the elementary school basement. It's Gordon's home life that sucks so bad. Maybe the thing to do is to send that magical slave home as Gordon at night while you hide somewhere else, and then take over again as Gordon when it's time for classes.<br/>
<br/>
But the root of the problem is Russell Black. If you could get rid of him--<br/>
<br/>
You lean back in your chair, examining the thought delicately. Dane had no idea what happened to him when he found himself in Gordon's mask, and wound up trying to play the part. If you got a mask onto Gordon's dad and put him somewhere else, where he couldn't do any harm, and let someone else take over for him-- You chew a thumbnail. Put Gordon's dad under Dane's mask and keep him well baked? But then you'd have to put Dane somewhere else. You have the sinking feeling there'd be only one solution: Dane would have to replace <i>you,</i> and you'd have to replace Russell Black. It's not an appealing thought.<br/>
<br/>
And, anyway, it's something you'd have to talk about with Gordon himself.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222
author_id: seuzz
title: A Talk with Steve
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You decide not to call Gordon, but if he calls you, you will mention some of these ideas floating around your head. As it turns out, that's where they stay, because you never hear from him. Well, he said he had a date tonight.<br/>
<br/>
Sunday comes, and you get up and shower, and otherwise time your preparations for the day so that you're out of Gordon's dad's sight with plausible reasons, and you manage to make it out to your car without running into him. You've got the masks and other whatnot in your bag, but you've also packed it up with all the books and papers you can squeeze in, so that if he snoops in your room again he won't find any other school work that might set of a rage. He might even think you're off studying. <br/>
<br/>
You head off for the school, where after some long stretches you take a quick but hard jog around the track. Then you go inside and work out on the weight set. It's the kind of activity that dulls the mind so that you can't concentrate on your woes, even as it gives you an outlet for your resentments and energies. It's no wonder that Gordon is so buff.<br/>
<br/>
That done, you go up to the loft, where you deposit the mask stuff in an unlocked crate, hiding it beneath some mats. You still have to finish making the mind bands--the spell requires that you to carve some runes into them--but you told Steve you'd be taking the loft all afternoon, so there's no real hurry. You take a shower and change into fresh shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, then go back up to the loft, where you call Chelsea. It's about time for the first of nearly a dozen calls she'll expect you to place before you go to bed. "Hey, is this the sexiest girl in Saratoga Falls," you murmur in a low voice when she picks up. She giggles. "Must be, 'cos I'm getting a boner just listening to her laugh."<br/>
<br/>
"You're so disgusting," she says, but there's a snicker in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
"We getting together later?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. I'm supposed to meet up with Maria. She needs some help with-- Well, with <i>everything,</i> but we can't conquer the world in an afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
You twinge at the faint echo of last night's rant. "Well, I'm loose. I'll call you before I do anything, okay?" That twinge deepens. "You know I love you, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I love you too," she coos.<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw clenches. "I-- I just couldn't bear it, you know, if I woke up one day and knew that--" You swallow. "Knew that you weren't going to be there, waiting for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Gordon," she sighs. "Me too. You're my ickle-widdle pookie, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
Down deep, Will Prescott snerks and titters over Chelsea Cooper calling Gordon Black her "ickle-widdle pookie."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing," you say aloud. "Can you just talk to me while doing whatever you're doing? I don't feel like talking, but I want to hear your voice."<br/>
<br/>
You can picture her blushing at that. "Nothing's going on here. Well, there is--"<br/>
<br/>
And that sets her off on what she really likes talking about: Who is doing what to whom, and how they're doing it, and what Chelsea and each of her friends thinks of it, and what they've said about it, and what they're going to do about it, and why they're going to do that thing, and what they'll do if the stupid so-and-so doesn't get their act together and fall in line with what Chelsea and her friends have decided needs to be done. The latest bit has to do with Kelsey Blankenship, who has been playing tongue-hockey with Keith Hennepin and thinking it's all just a marvelous secret between her and him. Chelsea hasn't decided yet what to do about it, and you firmly resist the urge to tell her that it's none of her business, and just let her prattle off different contingencies, contenting yourself with the occasional "Mm-hmm" and "I can see that" and "Oh, definitely." And at no point can you convince yourself that Russell Black is wrong, that Chelsea Cooper will stick with a lunkhead like her boyfriend even after she's in college and he's doing menial labor. The tone of your replies grows colder and colder as she goes on, though you speak so little that she doesn't catch it. Not until she mentions something about Kendra. "Oh yeah, thanks for setting her up with Steve yesterday," you say.<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. "What do you mean, pookie?"<br/>
<br/>
"I ran into them at the school yesterday. They were on their way up to the loft."<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think I had anything to do with that?" Her tone is cool, but evinces no surprise at what you've just said.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I have to bring Steve-o along when I talk to Seth, and I assumed--"<br/>
<br/>
"You assumed <i>what?</i>" she asks sharply. "What kind of business do you think I'm running, Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea, I--" There follows nearly ten minutes of equivocations, retreats and stammering apologies on your part, as she pursues with hard jabs and angry words. You've just got it wrapped up when the door creaks open and Patterson peeks around it. You close the phone and frown at him. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey man, just thought I'd try to get up here before you. Stock is running low." He holds up a few cases of beer and crosses over to the dorm-size fridge. "I'll make it quick."<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't started yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, don't start while I'm here."<br/>
<br/>
You can't  help thinking of what your dad said last night, about him and Chelsea. "How was Kendra yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Good as always." He kneels in front of the fridge and slides the cases in.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea set it up for you, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll have to wrap a thank you note around my cock and slip it up her ass." <br/>
<br/>
You leap to your feet and charge over to him. He rears up but doesn't step back. He's a little taller than you, but rangier. You know you could take him in a fight, though it would be a hard-fought thing. But you don't intend to start anything. Instead, you just get real close, right in his face. "Seth and Cindy are breaking up," you say.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes cloud over. "Really."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Tomorrow, right after practice. When Cindy and the other cheerleaders are there, so they can watch."<br/>
<br/>
He stares back. "I thought we talked about this already."<br/>
<br/>
"We did. Which is why we don't gotta talk about it now. It's happening."<br/>
<br/>
"And what's it got to do with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"How was <i>Kendra</i> yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
You and Steve stare at each other, unblinking, until your eyes are burning. But he looks away first, and flushes as he does so. "You're a fucking yo-yo, Gordon. You're a fucking yo-yo on her finger."<br/>
<br/>
"Think you could handle her better?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck yeah. Maybe I can't live without the bitch, but I'd sure as fuck make her think I can."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you live without <i>me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
His brow darkens. "Fuck, Gordon. I keep trying to save you, but you keep playing on the railroad tracks."<br/>
<br/>
It's the kind of statement that would normally disarm you, but you're still thinking of him with his cock up Chelsea's ass. You step up just enough that your toes overlap his. His lips whiten.<br/>
<br/>
"We call Seth out here tonight, and we give him the Reggie," you say softly.<br/>
<br/>
You can see him trembling with suppressed fury. He closes his eyes, and he speaks in a shaking voice. "Is this really Chelsea's idea, or did Seth do something to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's nothing personal between him and me, but he could stand to have the struts knocked out from under him. And after he folds, which he will, because he's a pussy, we'll bring him up here and suck each other off. All friendly like."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean give him a key?" Patterson asks skeptically. "Lynch doesn't even have a key."<br/>
<br/>
"Lynch won't be coming up here any more. You've been riding my ass to bust him back to the minors. If I can make you <i>and</i> my girlfriend happy, I will."<br/>
<br/>
Steve glances away. "Javits up here. It'll only last until Chelsea jerks your leash again," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea will learn to live with him. She'll even set him up with Kendra and Gloria or anyone else he wants, until he gets the taste of Cindy's pussy out of his mouth." You shrug. "And if we get sick of him, we kick him out again. Point is, he learns that it's <i>you and me</i> running things."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, one of us is," Steve grumbles, but it's clear he's given in.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Steve agrees to bring Javits over to the gym at five o'clock and then leaves. You then close the door and push a crate in front of it and get to work on the masks.<br/>
<br/>
It's tedious going, and you only manage to get two bands finished and attached to their masks when, at four-thirty, your phone rings. You frown at it; you'd taken a break at three o'clock to call Chelsea again, and you're not in the mood for another hand-holding session. But it's the signal for a text message, so you check it. It's from Will Prescott: "Come over to the school. Now."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hmm.</i> He must have found that slave thing. You're supposed to meet Patterson and Javits in half an hour, which is not nearly enough time to get over to the basement and back. And is there any point in going out? You know what you'll find, and you'll have to pretend that it's a new thing. In fact, you wonder if the "slave" will remember and recognize you and say something about your being out there yesterday. On the other hand, this mask business is certainly more important than what's going on with Seth; and you can reschedule the latter.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221
author_id: seuzz
title: 101 Tricks to Turn with a Golem
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You call Prescott back; Roth answers in his own voice. "What's going on," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"The new spell is finished. You gotta come see this thing." He sounds very excited.<br/>
<br/>
"You call everyone else?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Everyone.</i> This is big. It changes everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, alright, be over as soon as I can turn loose." You then call Patterson. "Something's come up. We'll have to reschedule the thing with Javits."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he explodes. "I had to bust my ass--"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Something's come up!</i>" you scream at him. "I don't give a fuck what you had to do! Meet him up here and play catch, suck each other off, go see a fucking movie, I don't care what! We'll do it tomorrow after practice!"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, alright! Is it an emergency?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's none of your fucking business!" You slap the phone off and sweep all your stuff together into a sack and shove it inside a cabinet. <i>Asshole!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's only one car at the elementary school when you arrive, but you find you're the last to arrive. Tsosie, Small, and two Justin Roths are down there, standing in a rude semicircle. You can distinguish between the latter two only because one of them is wearing your own clothes.<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of Will Prescott and what he might be wearing--<br/>
<br/>
Someone who looks just like him is standing by the far wall. He's buck naked, and seems to be grinning proudly over the fact. You wince over how stick-like he appears, and at the rude tufts of hair that stick in patches at embarrassing places. It might be your imagination, but you think his eyes widen and gleam as they fall on you.<br/>
<br/>
"So where's the fire," you demand. "One, two, three-- Is that Matthias over there? There's an extra."<br/>
<br/>
Small mutters something to Tsosie, who stifles a laugh. Otherwise, Maize is looking extremely perturbed. The others just have a wondering look on their faces.<br/>
<br/>
Justin--the Justin in your clothes--bites on his smile. "The fire's out, and that's what came out."<br/>
<br/>
"It made a new Will Prescott?" you ask dubiously. "What's the point in that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It only looks like Prescott 'cos we put that mask on it. Underneath, it's a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"A what?"<br/>
<br/>
"A golem." The Justin who's dressed like Justin takes over. "A stone automaton in Jewish legend. Like a living statue, or an organic robot. An artificial slave."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes narrow as you regard the Roth-disguised Black. Fucker is clearly getting off on having a brain.<br/>
<br/>
"Except this one isn't alive except when you put a mask on it," the original Justin adds. "Then it comes to life as the person it's disguised as."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh," you grunt. "So if we want two of us walking around for some reason, making trouble, like when Matthias got inside Gordon's mask, we can have another fuck up. Yeah," you say sarcastically, "this is <i>really</i> impressive."<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddaya get when you put two half-wits together," Perry sneers. "A quarter wit. Cross Prescott with Black, and you get something stupider than--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm smart enough not to say shit in front of someone who could break me in half, Small," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Point is," says the real Roth, "what if we put Victoria's mask on it? Huh?" He waggles his eyebrows. "We get Victoria, and none of <i>us</i> has to get inside the mask to pleasure the other guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, that's half the fun," says the fake Roth with a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"Or, if one of us doesn't wanna go to school, or wants to hang out past curfew, he can pop his mask onto this thing and send it out in his place," the real Roth says. "We make up a bunch of these guys, and we can take a road trip and not miss a day of school."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not puttin' <i>my</i> mask on that thing," Tsosie says. "And I ain't puttin' my cock in it. Fucking <i>demons</i> is what it's got inside it." He wheels around and charges out of the basement.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a slave, Tsosie, it can't--" Justin calls after him, but he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that right?" you ask the fake Prescott with a jerk of your chin. "You a slave?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right, big guy," he grins back. "I gotta do what you guys say."<br/>
<br/>
"Just us?" Perry says. "All of us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoever is in your group," Prescott says with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I take it back," you say. "This <i>is</i> a pretty big deal."<br/>
<br/>
"You got that right," Prescott says. "You guys should get some more fixings, make up some more like me."<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't get a vote, does he?" Perry asks with some alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not," the real Roth says. "In fact--" He pushes the golem back onto the table, and a few seconds later it's reverted to a stone thing. <br/>
<br/>
"What kind of brain has it got," you ask. "Like, if we put a different mask on it, is it going to remember what it said and did while it was being Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"Something to test out," Roth says after a moment's hesitation. After a fractional hesitation, the other Roth lays out on another table and lets Justin take the mask off him.<br/>
<br/>
Another Roth sprouts to life, but it appears to remember only what Roth himself said and heard. Still, you can't shake the feeling that it's veiling an underlying sense of amusement at your presence. They get the mask off it and back onto Gordon before he revives.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your quartet leaves the basement, locking the unmasked golem inside. You and Gordon get in the Bug, but you don't start the car up right away.<br/>
<br/>
"That's a pretty neat thing in there," you say as you peer out through the windshield, watching him carefully out of the corner of your eye. "I like the idea that you could send it back <i>home</i> in your place."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," he says. "Dad still out of his mind?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You give him a digest of last night's events, though you leave out the details of what he said about Chelsea and Steve. "You know, with a thing like that, you could go to school as yourself, and just send it home when it was time to go."<br/>
<br/>
"Where would I stay?"<br/>
<br/>
"My place. Or you could just crash at Tsosie's every night."<br/>
<br/>
"You take care of Seth already?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll do it tomorrow. I got Steve on board. We're gonna give him the Reggie."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't gotta go <i>that</i> far on him."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker's pissed me off. He's got me in a bad place with Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I told you, you stick it out where you are until it's all blown over."<br/>
<br/>
"So what if <i>I</i> use the dingus? Lemme stay at your place while a golem of Gordon Black goes home?"<br/>
<br/>
His face tightens. "I'd rather someone else tried it out first, and under some pretty rigorous test conditions." <br/>
<br/>
"God, you talk just like Roth," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"And who were <i>you</i> talking like yesterday?" he retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," you grumble. "By the way, I didn't pick up any supplies." He turns his head fractionally. "But I got a couple of masks made anyway. I came out here and took the stuff the other guys had picked up for themselves. I moved it up to the loft."<br/>
<br/>
"We wanted stuff of our <i>own,</i>" he says in a stern voice.<br/>
<br/>
"And it <i>is</i> ours," you reply. "Tomorrow I'm gonna tell them that Steve went on a housecleaning binge and tossed it all out." You grin at him. "So, they think the shit all got lost, and meanwhile <i>we</i> got what <i>they</i> had, <i>plus</i> whatever we pick up with <i>your</i> cash."<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you long and hard, until the smile gradually melts from your face. "You fucking idiot," he says. "You couldn't tell me <i>after</i> I took this fucking mask off?" Your face falls as he glowers at you. "Well, so much for <i>that</i> idea," he growls. "As soon as Justin goes back to being himself, he'll know all about--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Christ!" Fury blooms up inside you, but it's fury at yourself. You pound the steering wheel. "I am such a <i>fucking</i> cock up!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'da told you not to do it anyway," he sighs. "We're not trying to <i>screw</i> anyone. We just want insurance."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm so stupid," you stammer. "And I'm so sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"How much did you get out of it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Enough for five masks. I guess that's one for each of us to play with. Except Tsosie sounds like he doesn't want to play anymore. Fuck it, he's got Victoria to warm his cock inside."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll still need his place if we're gonna use these golems for parties. We can't have 'em up in the school."<br/>
<br/>
"What about here at the basement?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't like this place." He glowers at the door. "There's something <i>wrong</i> in there."<br/>
<br/>
"That's Roth's mask talking."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess. Did you move all the shit? Including the stuff you used to make that golem? <br/>
We'll have to move it back if we're gonna make more of those things."<br/>
<br/>
"And who's the lucky asshole that gets to move--" You do some calculations that are within Will Prescott's power but not Gordon Black's. "Shit, that's almost a ton of dirt!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who looks like he's built for it?" Your partner grins.<br/>
<br/>
Now it's your turn to glower back. "Can't we use the golem?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably." He shrugs. "And if you wanna send it home tonight, that's your call too."</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Sleepover
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You talk in a distracted way about other things on the drive back to Justin's house, but as he's getting out, you tell him your decision: "I'm gonna send that golem thing back home in my place. Can the real Will Prescott crash with a fake Justin Roth tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. We can paint each other's toenails."<br/>
<br/>
You grin: When you get back together, you can tell him what Chelsea and fake-Gordon got up to while Dane was inside the mask.<br/>
<br/>
You then drive back over to your old house; you should tell Justin what you're doing, and you'll also need to pick up some clothes, since the golem will be going home in Gordon's things. You give your kid brother a heavy-lidded glare as you pass through the living room, and chuckle to yourself at the way he gapes back palely at the giant walking behind his brother.<br/>
<br/>
"Just have the thing back at the elementary school by tomorrow morning," Prescott says as he pulls clothes from the dresser. You glance around, marveling at how the room feels smaller. "Like, <i>early.</i> I'm going to put your mask on it and send it to school."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I'm gonna hang out with Tsosie tomorrow. He's super freaked out."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we should just let him drop out."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I can't stop him if he wants to," Prescott sighs. "But I don't like seeing him in this state."<br/>
<br/>
It's not your business, though in truth you'd rather Tsosie did drop out; it would even the odds between you and Gordon on one side and Justin and Perry on the other. But you don't say anything, and just leave with the clothes tucked under your arm.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"No offense, man, but I really don't like that guy," you say from Justin's doorway as you watch Gordon's Bug drive off.<br/>
<br/>
Justin chuckles and puts his arm around your neck; he squeezes hard, in a way that suggests a mostly playful chokehold. "Yeah, he's an asshole, isn't he? All kinds of fucked up." He draws you inside.<br/>
<br/>
You eat with him and Roth's parents. His mother is cheery and bustles in and out of the dining room to bring more and more food. His dad laughs and asks jovially about you and your life. After dinner he takes the two of you down into the basement, and you spend a relaxing hour playing pool. You don't join in the talk much--it's mostly Justin and his dad talking about hunting and backpacking and fly fishing. Justin is planning on taking a weekend off in a few weeks to get together with his older brother on a brief expedition. Maybe he'll go; or maybe it'll really be Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
Then you go upstairs to the bedroom, where you relax on the bed while Justin leans back in his chair. "So how long are you planning on hanging out here?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "I guess until Roth wants his life back." He shoots you a piercing glance. "The question is, how long is Roth planning on hanging out at <i>your</i> house?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know why he wants to," you say. "His folks are a lot cooler than mine."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he's finding compensations elsewhere, you know? Like how <i>you</i> were finding some?"<br/>
<br/>
You redden. "I don't got anything like that in my life," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you a long minute. "Maybe not when you left. But it's been-- How long?"<br/>
<br/>
"A few days. You don't suppose--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you look panicked all of a sudden?" he laughs. "Don't you think you could handle anything he's set you up with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God!"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs again. "You know, it would be funny if we wound up taking over each other's lives, like, semi-permanently. It's easier taking chances when you're being someone else. You feel like you might not have to stick around for the consequences. And if they work out--" He shrugs. "Then you get a reward the other guy might not have gotten."<br/>
<br/>
"Have you picked up any rewards?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks puckish. "I think Roth would've made that play for Andrea anyway. Maybe not as fast as I made it for him--"<br/>
<br/>
"Andrea?" you ask. The penny drops. "The <i>mermaid?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" His laugh is a gasp of delight. "He's gonna have a happy memory when he gets back inside this thing. It'll suck for him, though, 'cos I don't think she's interested in a follow up."<br/>
<br/>
You have to put your hand out to keep from swooning. <i>Andrea Varnsworth.</i> Probably the only girl in school who could really fight Chelsea for the title of "sexiest girl around." "You know, if <i>Chelsea</i> knew that you'd--" you start nervously.<br/>
<br/>
He laughs so hard he throws himself back in his chair. "Chelsea? Fuck me, if <i>Steve-o</i> knew! He's been after her for-- God, he can work himself into a frenzy when he thinks of her! He gets all red in the face and looks like he wants to punch someone!"<br/>
<br/>
"You miss hanging out with Steve?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>That</i> sobers him up suddenly, and his expression gradually turns shifty. He shrugs an eyebrow. "You miss hanging out with <i>your</i> friends?"<br/>
<br/>
That's an interesting question. "I guess I actually haven't thought of them that much. You get so wrapped up where you are and who you're being."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, and clasps his hands. Various emotions struggle for control of his face. He seems to hesitate a good long time over what to say, or even whether to say anything. Blood boils up under his tanned and weathered face, and he blinks hard and frowns when he finally speaks again. "You know," he says quietly. "If I could spend my life as someone else, permanently, I think it would be as him."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson." He presses his lips grimly together, and his eyes lock onto yours briefly before wavering. He nods curtly. "Guy's got it made. He's only eighteen, and he's already set."<br/>
<br/>
"How so?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs tensely. "'Cos of what he's got upstairs. Patterson's fucking smart. I don't mean like geek smart. I mean, he studies and gets decent grades, but that's not what counts. Guy sees angles, plays, where everyone else is standing and what they're gonna do. 'S why he's so good on the court. He'll pass the ball to where someone isn't but is going to be, dodge the traps. Dope-slaps idiots who aren't where they should be." He draws a deep breath. "Steve's gonna go to college, and he's gonna get a degree in some shit that'll set him for life. Nothin' fancy. Just something that'll get him a good corporate job." His gaze grows distant. "He'll scamper up the ladder, pushing off anyone who gets in the way, kicking 'em in the teeth. He'll get someplace rich and cozy and grab it by the short hairs. And he'll have women. Oh, God, all kinds of pussy, streaming in and out of some nice apartment in some big city. And when he's forty or forty-five, he'll snatch up some twenty-something bimbo and make her Mrs. Steven Patterson. Fuck her twice a night while giving her money and prestige and connections." He sighs raggedly. "He sees it, right now, all in front of him. And he's in no hurry to take it, because it's just waiting for him. He's gonna fuck the world limp, and he's gonna have fun doing it."<br/>
<br/>
"He's told you all this?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can see it in his eyes."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you get the same thing? I mean, you're--"<br/>
<br/>
He looks up at you sharply. "What do <i>you</i> think?" It's a dangerous question, and you say nothing. He looks away, a haggard expression on his face. "This is the best year I will ever have," he says quietly. "And I'm missing it." He rubs at his eye with the heel of his hand. "I'm running away from it."<br/>
<br/>
"You can be yourself at school, you know. At school you're--"<br/>
<br/>
"At school I am a god," he says, and leans back. "I am one of the titans." His lips peel back. "And I'm a <i>prick.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not too late to change."<br/>
<br/>
A light comes into his eyes. "But I don't want to. This is the last year for me, and I want everything I can't have and never will have. I want it <i>now,</i> in a big ball. Concentrated form." <br/>
<br/>
He bares his teeth. "You're going in as me tomorrow, Prescott," he says in a very quiet voice. "I want to see blood on the walls. I want to see Chelsea impaled on your cock like she's on a fucking spear." Now his eyes flash. "Show me what I'm missing, so that I <i>want</i> it back."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow. "I'll do my best," you say in a squeak.<br/>
<br/>
He grins. "Just channel that guy who told me to go fuck myself."<br/>
<br/>
You change the subject. After all, you'll have his mask tomorrow, so you don't need guidance from the real guy tonight. Besides, he's left you feeling more than a little frightened of what you might do.<br/>
<br/>
About thirty minutes later his phone tweets, and he frowns as he checks it. "Fuckin' A," he says. "Speak of the devil we were talking about earlier. Yo!"<br/>
<br/>
You watch as he speaks. He frowns. "What kind of shit is this?" He listens, and his frown deepens. "Don't take that tone with me, you-- Listen, who's supposed to be charge, you or me? Well, if it's that bad, maybe I don't-- Oh, fine!" He closes the phone with a snarl.<br/>
<br/>
"What's up?"<br/>
<br/>
He glares at you. "That dumb golem. Says it needs to do a 'mind meld' or something with me. I'm supposed to go meet it." He stands up with a sigh, and then pauses. "You wanna go with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you need me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm getting a really bad vibe off this thing. Frankly, I'd feel a lot better if you stepped back in for me."<br/>
<br/>
You pale a little. "It's supposed to go to school as <i>me</i> tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't think I don't give a shit for you, but I think a malfunctioning Gordon Black could do a lot more damage than a malfunctioning Will Prescott."</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112
author_id: seuzz
title: Two New Players
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>He gives you a dirty look when you demur. "If it leaves a mess, you'll have to clean it up."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll wash the shit off with blood." He just grunts as he goes out the door.<br/>
<br/>
You hang out in the bedroom for a bit longer, checking your social sites, in case the real Justin has left some kind of evidence of "compensations" for when you get back, but find nothing. After awhile you wander back out into the house and chat with Roth's parents while they watch TV. It's nearly forty-five minutes before Justin returns, and he looks like he's in a temper, and just jerks his head at you to follow him back.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," he spits out when you ask what happened. "I got out there and even took the mask off, and the fucking moron then said it 'changed its mind'. Just said Dad was being a prick--<i>like that's news</i>--and scurried off."<br/>
<br/>
That strikes you as weird, but you don't want to dwell on it, since it's put your friend in a bad mood, and change the subject by suggesting you "paint each other's toenails." He gives you a queer look, until you tell him what Chelsea and "Gordon" got up to when Dane was being him. He grumbles sourly over it, but it does lighten the mood somewhat.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually he pulls down a sleeping bag from the closet, and you go to bed, having set the alarm for an hour earlier than usual.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The air is bright and cold when you and Justin arrive at the elementary school, and there's even a faint mist. Gordon's Bug is out front, and a Will Prescott and another Justin Roth are waiting down in the basement, but they don't linger after they thrust a mask at you: Gordon's. You ask your partner if he wants to check out the interior of the mask before you put it on. He just says it's your business, and trudges back up the stairs so he can drop the real Justin off at Tsosie's.<br/>
<br/>
You study the mask fretfully before putting it on.<br/>
<br/>
After waking again, you spend a few minutes staring at the ceiling. It actually feels good to be back here, and you take time to slap some feeling into your massive pecs and biceps and thighs, and you fondle your cock until it stiffens in the cold. <i>Gordon wants blood. What have you got to work with?</i><br/>
<br/>
Nothing.<br/>
<br/>
You blink. Oh, you've got his brain in there with you, and you remember being with Chelsea and confronting Steve and even that horrible evening with his dad. But they feel faint, almost as faint as your own memories from when you were in Perry's mask, and Justin's mask before that, and in your own skin before that. And what was last night's crisis? There's only a blank. The last thing you remember is yesterday: laying back to take the mask off so you could put it on the golem and send it to Gordon's house in your place. After that, you've only memories of talking to the golem-Gordon. It had smirked at you, and treated you with elaborate, insincere deference. You don't even have the memory of standing there and mocking yourself, or of driving yourself over to Justin Roth's place. And you certainly don't remember a crisis, or meeting the Justin-disguised Gordon any place, though you do, oddly, remember going to bed in Gordon's house last night, and driving out to the basement this morning.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe the thing <i>is</i> defective. Christ, and it's going to be walking around as Will Prescott today. Your only comfort--a comfort as cold as the brisk morning air--is that a "sad little douchebag" like him won't be able to get into much trouble. You hope.<br/>
<br/>
But you're still thoughtful as you dress.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Monday. Fucking Mondays.</i> You trudge across the parking lot toward the gym. The lot is mostly empty, because you're here for pre-class practice. <i>Where the fuck are-- Well, anybody?</i> You try to get yourself into a surly mood, so you can slap at Bennett or Martin or Richards or any of the other fuckers who can't get their asses in gear and get to--<br/>
<br/>
You round the corner and barrel into a guy. For the first time in years, <i>you're</i> the one who bounces off someone else. It's like running into a lamp post.<br/>
<br/>
He turns around with an unruffled expression. He's not as tall as you, and certainly not as big, but he radiates strength. He's got dark hair, and his dark eyes have a steely glint in them. Still, you growl at him. "Watch where you're fucking standing, you--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're Gordon Black," the guy says. "We've been waiting for you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>We?</i> You then notice the other guy. He's shorter, and blonde, and his muscles bulge more roundly against his t-shirt and shorts, and his grin is radiant. "And who the <i>fuck</i> are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Frank Durras," says the dark-haired one, extending a hand, which you only glare down at it. He withdraws it after a fractional hesitation, and jerks his head at the other one. "This is my brother, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"Howdy!" says Joe brightly.<br/>
<br/>
"Can I do something for you assholes?"<br/>
<br/>
They exchange a glance, and Joe hisses a laugh through his teeth. "Coach Porter said to talk to you about trying out for the team," says Frank.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly you place them. "You're the new assholes Eastman picked up, aren't you? The fuck are you doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Trying to become the new assholes at Westside?" Joe says. "We heard there's a desperate shortage, but maybe we were misinformed."<br/>
<br/>
"Joe," Frank murmurs. To you: "Yeah, we were at Eastman. But it turns out we enrolled at the wrong school, and we have to move out here. We were on <i>their</i> team for awhile, and now we'd like to try out for Westside's."<br/>
<br/>
You look between them, then hike your backpack higher on your shoulder with a shrug. "Come on in, then." You open the gym door. "Ladies first."<br/>
<br/>
Again they exchange a glance, and again Joe suppresses a laugh as they step in before you.<br/>
<br/>
They turn as you drop your backpack, but you don't give them time to react. As soon as it touches the floor you shove Joe hard in the shoulder, sending him tripping back several steps. "First, you wipe that fucking smirk off your goddamned face. You're not here to have fun, and you're not here to win. You're here to fucking humiliate anyone who gets on the same court with you. I will personally slam you headfirst through a hoop if I catch you jacking off." You step up to Frank, putting your toes over his and glaring into his eyes. "You understand me?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks faintly puzzled--not a reaction you're used to seeing in your victims' faces. Then his eyes clear. "Of course," he says, as though you've just told him the goal is to get the ball through the basket.<br/>
<br/>
You inch closer. "Does the little prick you trailed in like dog shit on your shoe understand too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe," says Frank calmly without blinking. "Do you understand?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh I get it. It's not like long division."<br/>
<br/>
You try daunting Frank some more with a stare, but it quickly becomes apparent that you might as well try to outstare a brick wall, and break off before it will become humiliating. "Alright then. Get a ball, stand at the free throw line, and try to get it through the basket without looking like an old lady."<br/>
<br/>
Again, another exchange of glances, but Joe at least seems to have sobered up. They each get a ball from the nearby rack and expertly dribble them as they take their positions. Frank's ball bounces off the rim before dropping in. Joe's is a clean swish. "Does that mean we make it?" Frank asks after you've put them through a dozen more tries, each with approximately the same results (and no misses).<br/>
<br/>
"No, it just means I don't put you in a dress and send you back to the pansies at Eastman. Now I wanna see you two against each other, and one of you had better be fucking <i>humiliated</i> when you're done, or there's some freshman girls who's gonna find you folded up inside their lockers next to their Justin Bieber posters."<br/>
<br/>
They start off slow, but you scream at them, and then they get serious. Soon you can see the flicker of daggers in their eyes, and they begin to redden from strain. You grin to yourself. Sure enough, they're brothers, and you can see the sibling rivalry quickly unfurl. There's no dirty play that you can detect, but they're sharp and merciless within the boundaries. Joe's the better player, with the fastest reflexes you've ever seen, and he snaps his teeth at Frank every time he makes a shot.<br/>
<br/>
The other guys have begun trailing in by this point, but you send them into the locker room instead of letting them gawk. You explain things to Patterson and leave him to watch while you change, and then you take over while he gets dressed out. Then you set the rest of the team to running laps while you and Patterson pair off against the newcomers. <br/>
<br/>
You don't play nice, and within a minute Joe is on the floor. "Foul!" he cries.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't foul people, you little pussy!" you scream at him. "You don't like my elbow in your fucking teeth, keep your goddamned mouth shut!" His eyes smolder. <br/>
<br/>
Two minutes later, it's your turn to stagger back when out of nowhere you catch Frank's shoulder with your face. "Like that, Black?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nice," you spit. "Steve-o, fit these guys out with uniforms. Richards!" you yell at a hapless laggard. "You don't at least lap Martin, you'll do tomorrow's laps in crutches! Martin, if he passes you, I'll put you in the rafters and use a shotgun to get you down again!" You fall in next to the line of players, yelling at them like a drill sergeant.<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later, you break when Patterson rejoins you. "Getting warmed up for Javits?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck.</i> You'd forgotten about that. All your belligerence notwithstanding, you're not really in the mood. But the appearance of the new guys will give you a convenient excuse to nail Javits hard.</span></div></div>


