# chapters

path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111111213112
author_id: seuzz
title: Monday Bombshells
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You hadn't actually settled on Anne Starkey by the time Eva and Jessica and Cindy—looking very hot and blown—arrived. (They'd been out jogging, and <i>someone</i>—Jessica explained with a slit-eyed glare at her sister—had set her phone alarm for the wrong time so they were late getting back and <i>God!</i> she felt so hot and sticky and dirty because they'd come right out to the studio without getting cleaned up first.) But the possibilities thrummed in the back of your mind all during the meeting, and by the time it all broke up you felt pretty certain that you'd be picking Anne as your second beta.<br/>
<br/>
As for the meeting itself:<br/>
<br/>
It was pointless. Fairfax only wanted everyone to "report" on how the projects were going. You didn't even get to hear from Josiah because (Philip reported) he had texted to say that he'd got caught up with stuff that Deanna had to do.<br/>
<br/>
So the only news was news from you, the news that you were <i>this close</i> to getting Chelsea (as Yumi) to start going out with your beta. That titillated the others but didn't excite them, and the meeting broke up after less than thirty minutes. Any real news about Yumi and Chelsea, it seemed, would have to wait until after the first cheerleader practice.<br/>
<br/>
After that, you drove out to Acheson, where you texted your beta to meet you at the old elementary school. It's been a community recreation center for as long as you can remember, but it still has a swing set and some climbing bars in the back fields. You rocked back and forth in one of the swings while waiting for your beta to arrive, while speculatively eyeing the door to the school basement. You busted into it last year, and explored all the dank and dusty old equipment—book cases and school desks and discarded cabinets—then replaced the busted lock with one of your own, and for a couple of weeks you and Keith and Caleb treated it as a kind of clubhouse. But it's been nearly a year since you've back inside. Surely the center's maintenance staff has found and replaced your lock in the meantime.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, so I got to see Cindy's boobs this afternoon," you tell your beta when he arrives. He's back in something like your old clothes—shorts and a hoodie—as he drops into the swing next to yours; you give him a critical look up and down, but decide it's okay for him to dress down for a Sunday afternoon. "Cindy's and Eva's and Jessica's boobs."<br/>
<br/>
"Bitch," he sighs. "Girls are so fucking lucky."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want to know how I managed it?<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. Why wouldn't you all strip in front of each other?"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you being a grump for? Have you talked to Yumi today?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. And I'm being a grump because you bragged about getting to see those girls' boobs. Do you want me to call her tonight?" He gives you an anxious look.<br/>
<br/>
"No, you don't want to look too eager. Talk to her tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"That's good." With calculated indifference he adds, "'Cos I'm supposed to hang out with Reagan Hackett and her friend Sydney tonight."<br/>
<br/>
The swing creaks and groans as you whirl on him. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I don't know if it's a double date or anything, but I'm supposed to meet up with them at the university."<br/>
<br/>
"So if it's a double date, which one is for you?"<br/>
<br/>
He rolls his eyes. "Reagan, I assume. Sydney's bringing  her own guy along." He leans back in the swing and stretches his legs out.<br/>
<br/>
"You and Reagan? <i>Really?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Is there a problem with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not into Reagan. I <i>know</i> you're not into Reagan." <br/>
<br/>
And it's true. Reagan Hackett is a loud, bluff girl with a prow-like nose and a pushy personal manner. Maybe <i>Reagan</i> is into your beta, and she's just the kind to shove herself onto him, but you wouldn't be into her. And your beta doesn't argue.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, be polite," you tell him. "But remember that you're interested in Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "So is that still happening?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm working on it. You are too. In fact, you're gonna get some more help on that, from Anne Starkey."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? How come's that?"<br/>
<br/>
You give him a look. Understanding is very slow to dawn on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"No!" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. It was Fairfax's idea. She's not part of Jenny's gang. So if she leans in on Yumi and tells her that you're a real hottie and she'd be lucky to be going out with you, it'll be like, you know, an independent opinion. Except," you add with a sharkish grin, "not really.<br/>
<br/>
"Psh. Wow. Okay, so if that's what you want to do. Way to take one for the team." His mouth curls up into a wry smile. "Way to take one from the <i>football team.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
This reply puzzles you for a moment, until you sort out what he means.<br/>
<br/>
He's referring to the fact that Anne Starkey is going out with Cameron Huber, the school's beefy, barrel-bodied quarterback.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, that is a complication, but Keith has showed how to handle a randy boyfriend, and you figure that as Anne you'll be able to hold Cameron at bay.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe it was bothering you a little, because it's not until later that evening that you text Anne to see if you can meet up with her after school tomorrow. She's agreeable, though you have to tap-dance a little when she asks why you want to meet at Top Shelf Storage, and have to give her a story about showing her some old furniture that she might be interested in. But with that set up, you text Maria to tell her that you'll need a new mask by four o'clock tomorrow. She texts back to say that she's already got a beta working on it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Eva is late to study hall the next morning, and she is flushed and wide-eyed when she bursts into the library. "Oh. My. God," she gasps as she falls into a chair between you and Rachel. She chops at the air with her hand. "Total. Amazing. <i>Really weird stuff</i> at practice this morning."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" You lean in, for you've been dying to hear how the first cheerleader practice with the body-swapped girls was going to go.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea must've dropped acid or something this weekend," she says, glancing at Rachel and Audrey before turning to you. "Or she got born again, or she got kidnapped by space aliens and they scrambled her— Anyway." She brushes the last image away. "She comes in, and she has the rest of us warm up and do routines while her and <i>Cindy—</i>" She repeats the name, and repeats it again. "So she and <i>Cindy</i> go off and talk to Coach Tesla in her office. And when they come back, she says that she and Cindy are now—" She takes a breath. "They are now <i>co-captains</i> of the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"No!" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"I shit you not."<br/>
<br/>
"What did Cindy say?" You glance at Rachel and Audrey, but they're not as into the cheerleader drama as you, and only listen with bemused expression.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, she said 'Thanks'? She hardly said anything! She was so shocked!"<br/>
<br/>
"What about the rest of the squad?" You edge up close. "What about Yumi, what did she say?"<br/>
<br/>
Eva rolls her eyes heaven-ward and chops the air with both hands. "Wow. And that was the <i>other</i> thing. Chelsea put <i>Yumi</i> in charge of coming up with some new routines, and Yumi just <i>bubbled over</i> at it. She squealed and she <i>actually hugged Chelsea!</i><br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!"<br/>
<br/>
"And then we practiced, and Chelsea—My God!—was <i>supportive</i> of everyone, just totally encouraging and everything. You should have seen the looks that Kendra and Gloria were giving her!"<br/>
<br/>
Well, that certainly is bombshell news, but you can't talk openly to Eva about it in front of Rachel and Audrey, so you have to pretend to be just as mystified as Eva pretends, and to cynically suggest that it must be some kind of scheme. <br/>
<br/>
Naturally, you want to find Yumi to talk to her directly, but you can't find her at lunch or at her locker, and she ignores the texts you send. But the other girls tell you that she is very excited and supportive of the changes to the squad. "So she's decided to be in character," you ask Jessica.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," she mutters back. "It seems to me more like she thinks she's <i>supposed</i> to be happy about it all."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But since you can't find Yumi, you put her out of mind for the moment to concentrate on Anne—in seventh period English you confirm with her that you'll meet up with her at the complex.<br/>
<br/>
But too late Maria texts you that she'll be delayed getting out there to give you the mask, and you're waiting outside the gate for her when Anne drives up. She waves and rolls down her window when you approach. "I'm supposed to meet Maria Vasquez out here too," you tell her. "She's got the code to get us in."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's awesome," Anne says. "I'd like to talk to Maria anyway, find out what's up with Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh? You heard?"<br/>
<br/>
"Heard what?" Anne's expression turns puzzled. "Never mind, get in," she says, and gestures you to join her.<br/>
<br/>
"So, I got a weird text from Chelsea at school today," she says after you've crawled into the passenger seat beside her, "and I'm supposed to meet up with her when I'm done here. Are we going to be here long?"<br/>
<br/>
"Depends on Maria," you temporize. "But what's Chelsea want to talk to you about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Our boyfriends. You know that Cameron and Gordon don't get along."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I had that impression. But then, who <i>does</i> Gordon get along with?"<br/>
<br/>
Anne gives you a quick, tight smile. "Well, Chelsea says she wants to talk about them and the stuff between them." Her eyebrows go up. "She says she wants to figure out a way to get them to bury the hatchet."</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111112131121
author_id: seuzz
title: Anne and the Air Head
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Wow. Reorganizing the cheerleader squad, trying to end a jock feud ... It sounds like Yumi hit the ground running today. And Anne is interested when you tell her about the changes to the cheerleader squad, and how freaked out all the girls were.<br/>
<br/>
You're still talking when a third car pulls up and Maria Vasquez gets out. She returns your greetings with a vacant look. "So what are we up here for?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"The furniture, Maria," you tell her. "The stuff we wanted to look at."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Right." But she makes no move toward the door.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know the door code," you tell her. "And you've got the key."<br/>
<br/>
She frowns as her gaze goes distant. "No, the only key I've got is for a room out at Top Self Storage."<br/>
<br/>
"This <i>is</i> Top Self Storage, Maria."<br/>
<br/>
She looks around, and her frown deepens as she studies the sign over the office: <i>Top S{h)elf Storage.</i> "No, this is Top <i>Shelf</i> Storage."<br/>
<br/>
"Just try the code, Maria. I'm sure you'll find it works."<br/>
<br/>
She gives you hurt look, but taps at the pad. The lock clicks, and you dive to open it when Maria draws back from it in surprise. You and Anne exchange a quick look as you bundle inside. After another frowny moment inside the entryway, Maria leads you down the central corridor. Halfway down, she mutters, "How would you pronounce a parentheses?" to herself.<br/>
<br/>
She stops in front of a door and bends to unlock it; your heart wobbles in your throat as her ass thrusts itself at you. On raising it, she gestures Anne inside. You start to follow, but Maria blocks you with an elbow. She then steps up behind Anne and grasps her from behind. The two girls softly sink to the concrete floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, man!" The air explodes from your lungs. "You really had me going with the airhead act."<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't hard," Maria mutters as she extricates herself from Anne's tangled limbs. "Carlos never has given me a straight answer on what the name of this place really is."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As you undress Anne, you tell Fairfax what Anne had been telling you. "So what's the story from Chelsea's side?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," she says. "I've barely talked to her since we made the switch. She spent the weekend avoiding me, and she barely talked or even looked at me all day today."<br/>
<br/>
"But Maria's, like, Chelsea's best friend!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know. At first, I was putting it down to Yumi not wanting to make any mistakes. But she wouldn't be worried about that after today. And she wasn't shy with any of the girls at lunch." Her frown deepens. "I might have to talk to Kendra or Gloria to find out what she's been saying to them."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you corner her, talk to her? I mean, if you're her best friend—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not Maria's style. She hardly even talks to Chelsea. Mostly she just listens." She combs out a long strand of hair with her fingertips. "I suspect that's why Chelsea likes her so much."<br/>
<br/>
You've got Anne disrobed by now, and Maria leaves you to contemplate the naked form of your new beta. She's a girl of average height, whose dark reddish hair falls in long streams past her shoulder blades. Her summertime tan is fading but she still has a ruddy glow on her face, forearms, and calves; the rest of her is a healthy pink. Her body is covered over in a soft layer of baby fat, but her stomach curves inward between breasts and hips of a healthy size. Her hazel-green eyes are open but unfocused, and you shift around so that she's not seeming to stare at you.<br/>
<br/>
When Maria returns she's got a mask with her; you ask her if it's for yet another beta.<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's for Anne," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You look down at the girl. "I thought you already used one on her."<br/>
<br/>
"Part of one," she replies. "A mask comes in two parts, Will. The mask itself copies the body, but there's a separate metal strip that copies the mind. Normally we glue these together, so that we can copy a person, body and mind, all in one swoop, and then wear them together. I wanted to try something new with Anne, though. You know, it takes time for the memories to come. I want you to put on the memory unit first, after it's copied her, so that you get the memories and personality right away. Then we'll put the mask on you. If it works the way I suspect it will, this will give you access to her mentality almost immediately instead of having to wait until morning."<br/>
<br/>
You digest this, and almost object: You got all of Jenny's memories instantly. But you dismiss it with a shake of your head. What does it matter if you do it a piece at a time or all at once?<br/>
<br/>
"But first I guess I should ask if you're just going to treat her as a beta." Maria says. "Or are you going to switch places with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she's supposed to meet with Chelsea when she leaves here. So should I switch places with her so I can talk to Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
"That makes sense," she tells you after a long moment's thought. "I was thinking maybe I could borrow Anne's mask. But maybe it should be you. I might accidentally slip up and say something that Anne wouldn't know but Maria would."<br/>
<br/>
"Is there anything special you want me to find out?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," she replies after another hesitation. "Just ask her whatever Anne would ask her. But if you're going to switch masks, maybe you should go ahead and get out Jenny's things."<br/>
<br/>
You're in the studio, so you lay out on top of the desk where they record their videos and strip down to your nothings. You shiver in the chilly air as Maria bends over you. You close your eyes as she wraps her fingers around your brow, and you wince as she pulls.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A deep chill has penetrated your skin when you awake, and you have a headache. You flinch hard and deep against it, and blink at the ceiling, where a harsh fluorescent light glares down at you. <i>Where am I?</i> you wonder. <i>What happened?</i><br/>
<br/>
With a deeper wince you sit up on one elbow. Something light and soft slides off your breasts and onto the floor. You're laying on a hard table top. <i>A desk?</i><br/>
<br/>
Someone sighs softly behind you, and look over with a gasp. Maria Vasquez, sitting behind the desk, is putting her phone away. She says nothing, but lifts a querying eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
Memories flood in; the pressure inside your skull threatens to explode your head like a melon. You grind at your eyeball with the heel of your hand.<br/>
<br/>
Then, with a shake of your head, the pain is gone. You know who and where you are, and how you got here. With a grunt you lever yourself upright—<br/>
<br/>
—and freeze at the sight of the girl on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
It's you. It's Anne Starkey.<br/>
<br/>
She is pale and flabby, and her eyes and her mouth open vacantly up at the ceiling. Her hair is snarled about her head, and her breasts are trying to slide off her chest. Instinctively you grab for a tress of your own hair and pull it in front of you to stare at it. It's yours, alright: reddish-brown, and very fine. You look down and cup one of your breasts. It's small and pointed and it tilts slightly up, like a fat banana. The tip prickles in the cold.<br/>
<br/>
"I was waiting to put Jenny's mask on her when you woke up," Maria says from behind you. You turn to stare; she rises and crosses around the desk. "I thought maybe you'd have some instructions for her, and I wouldn't have any way to control her. How are the memories coming?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pardon?" you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
Maria stops and turns to give you a hard stare. Her lips part, but they barely move as she breathes a single word: "Will?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Will?<br/>
<br/>
Oh. Right.</i> Relief floods over you.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm here," you assure her. You rub your face. "I'm feeling a little fucked up, but—" You swallow. "And ... And Anne's in here with me."<br/>
<br/>
"You sure?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure I'm sure," you retort with no little irritation. "Want me to give you my Social Security number?"<br/>
<br/>
"Please."<br/>
<br/>
You give her a look. "Do you know Anne's Social Security number? If you don't, how you would know if I got it right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that's right," she says. She turns back to the real Anne Starkey, and kneels beside her. Briefly, she covers her face with a mask. Then Jenny Ashton wrinkles her nose and sits up where Anne had been. "Maria?" she says in a puzzled tone. Then she sees you. "Anne?" Her eyes widen. "Oh!"<br/>
<br/>
After spending the better part of a week as Jenny, it's more than a little disorienting to see her from the outside again, but you rally. "You know what's going on?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so," she says warily. "You, uh, switched places with Anne." A little green shows in her face. "That makes <i>me</i> really Anne?"<br/>
<br/>
Maria inserts herself: "It's best not to think too hard about it. Will, how about you give Jenny any instructions you have for her."<br/>
<br/>
Except you haven't any, not really. Be like Jenny, don't tell anyone about the body-swapping, keep close to Yumi if possible, try to prod her into going out with beta-Will, but don't push her too hard. She quickly turns irritated with you as she dresses. "Yeah, I think I know what you want," she says. "Just keep doing like I was doing the past couple of days." She practically scampers from the room when you release her.<br/>
<br/>
You pick up Anne's clothes, and only then do you pause. "Weren't you going to put that metal band on me, and then put the mask on me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I decided to add the mask after I put the unit onto you. If it didn't work, I was going to suggest we try it again the other way. But you say you've got her memories? Then I suppose you should go find Chelsea now."</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111112132
author_id: seuzz
title: The Misplaced Girlfriend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>help us w deanna today,</i> reads the text from Jessica. Is that a request or a command?<br/>
<br/>
<i>u rly need me?</i> you text back as you kick the sheets off, letting the morning air drape cool your bare legs. <i>think i shld chek on yumi,</i> you add before hopping out of bed and scrambling into the shower.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny never takes long in the shower, and your instinct this Saturday morning as on school mornings is to be brusque and business-like with the ablutions. But it <i>is</i> a weekend, and now you've got this body, so you slow up to enjoy it some. You drench a washcloth in scented suds and rub it all over your body with special attention to the valley between your legs and the folds beneath your breasts. Jenny hasn't got the biggest bosom in school—you give it a slight grimace when you examine it in the mirror on exiting the shower—with breasts that look more like oddly shaped pectoral muscles than milk-giving mammaries, but they are more than you had as a teenage guy had. After toweling yourself dry all over you bundle your hair up in one towel, wrap yourself in another, and return to your bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
You contemplate the reply from Jessica while pulling some clothes: <i>ok u mk ur plans n we mk ours keep s update<br/>
<br/>
will do,</i> you text back, then finish dressing in track pants, a t-shirt, and ratty sneakers. You rub dry your hair and pull it back into a business-like ponytail before texting Yumi to see what her plans for the day are.<br/>
<br/>
And your own plans are nearly derailed when Mr. and Mrs. Ashton surprise you at the breakfast table with a stack of pancakes with a candle in the middle of them. "Happy birthday!" they exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
In all the chaos and excitement of the body swap, you had completely forgotten that today was Jenny's birthday. What a complication! For you've not only got her family to juggle, you've also got that "party" that James wanted to throw for you tonight.<br/>
<br/>
Funny that he didn't mention it yesterday at Panera. In fact, you haven't heard anything about it since he dropped the idea on you in the school library a couple of days ago. Maybe he's forgotten about it?<br/>
<br/>
But you neatly turn it to your advantage. When Mr. Ashton asks where you want to go for dinner, you rush to tell him that your friends have already made plans for the night, and talk him into taking you out for a nice lunch instead. His smile is a little tight, but suggests Ristorante Locarno—the most expensive place in town. "That'll be great," you chirp. "And it being lunch, it'll be cheaper too, won't it?" He tells you that really doesn't matter.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you're dressed up in nicer clothes—slacks and a blouse—when you finally meet up with Yumi at around two o'clock. You'd texted her to keep her afternoon clear for you because you wanted to see her. <i>just stuff,</i> you replied when she asked what you wanted to see her about. <i>not abt Will,</i> you'd added lest she think you were going to badger her more about that.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi replied that she wanted to meet you up at Westside, which left you wondering.<br/>
<br/>
"So it's my birthday," you announce as you clamber out of your car to join her in the student parking lot. "Have you been waiting long?" you add. She is lounging against her car with folded arms and a slight frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Waiting long for your birthday?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, for me to show up. What did you want to meet up here for?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Jenny," she says. "You're the one who wanted to meet."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, why did you want to meet up here instead of—?"<br/>
<br/>
You break off at her frown. Her eyes are veiled by her sunglasses, but you get the impression she's glaring. "What's wrong?" When she doesn't answer, you look back over your shoulder to see what else she might be staring at. But all you see is the school—the gym—with some cars parked next to it.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing," she sighs. "I just woke up in a weird mood this morning. I just feel all out of sorts or something."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. So what's this about your birthday?" She asks as though it will be a burden to listen to the answer.<br/>
<br/>
"It just surprised me, that's all. Kind of snuck up on me. I'm eighteen today. Kinda scary, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"How could it surprise you?" She sounds disgusted. "Didn't you know it was coming?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah. I'm just embarrassed, I guess. James wants to do something for me tonight. A party. Did I tell you about that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's what's got me embarrassed. You'll come along, right? Like I came along with you and Will yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
She sighs again, and her expression tightens.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Jenny," she says, "speaking of Will, can you do me a favor with him? Can you tell him I'm not <i>that</i> interested in him?"<br/>
<br/>
You swallow the tickle of disappointment you feel in your throat. "Are you also telling <i>me</i> you're not interested in him?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look over the top of her sunglasses, then sighs again.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I told you I'm all out of sorts. I'm sorry. And I think I'm going to skip tonight, whatever is going on."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Yumi!" you cry. "You have to come along! It's my birthday!"<br/>
<br/>
"I won't be good company. And if you need someone along to get between you and James, why can't you get—?"<br/>
<br/>
"It'll be a bunch of us there. That's why you have to come, it'll look— You're one of my <i>best friends!</i>" you plead. "It's a party!"<br/>
<br/>
Yumi's expression turns pinched, but she asks what the plan is. "I don't know," you confess. "James hasn't got back to me about it." She sighs at that.<br/>
<br/>
Then she turns at the sound of a loud car motor. An orange VW Bug goes crawling by, sounding like a lawn mower. Through the window you can just make out the hulking silhouette of the driver: Gordon Black, the captain of the basketball team, and Chelsea Cooper's boyfriend. "Oh God," you groan. "What's he coming up here for? Hasn't he got a basketball hoop at home?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's coming up here to meet Chelsea," Yumi says. Her voice coils with anger.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? You think?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course. She's parked up there by the gym. Waiting for him."<br/>
<br/>
A cold wash runs down your back. Chelsea and Yumi will have to meet each other eventually, but you were counting on it being Monday at least, at school, before that happened. It hadn't occurred to you that they might bump into each other before. Or that one might go in search of the other.<br/>
<br/>
"So what are we hanging around here for?" you exclaim. "God, those are the <i>last two</i> people I want to run into."<br/>
<br/>
Yumi grunts, and doesn't immediately detach herself from her car. But when she does, she pauses and turns sharply on you. "Did you say <i>everyone</i> was going to be out at your party tonight? Who's 'everyone'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, James and Carson and Paul. But, um, Lin probably. Jessica and Eva. Cindy, maybe."<br/>
<br/>
Yumi sucks in one of her cheeks. Then her lips twitch into a small smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, in that case," she says, "I definitely <i>will</i> come out. Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's the good news. The bad news is that she then takes off on her own, saying that she needs to find you a birthday present. You tell her you don't want one, but she insists.<br/>
<br/>
But that does leave you free to meet up with your conspirators, to help with Josiah and Deanna. Except that when you text them you learn that they have already pulled off the switch.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we got her out here by saying we had some stuff in storage that we were going to put in a garage sale," Eva tells you when you meet her and Jessica up at the complex. She and her sister are both in skin-tight bicycle shorts, sports bras, and gleaming white tennis shoes, and they look impossibly fit and healthy as they stretches out atop the desk where the boys record their videos. "Wham, bam, and the trick, she was done. You should'a come out to help, Josiah let us suck on his new tits for a bit after he got them onto his chest."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God." You make a face.<br/>
<br/>
"Wha'ssa matter?" Jessica asks, glancing up from her cell phone. "Wouldn't you like that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll let you suck on one of my tits if you let me suck on one of yours," Eva offers with a snigger. She fondles one of her puppies.<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny's not into that," you inform her. "Like, <i>really</i> not into that. Which makes it kind of, um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's the boss, Will?" Eva snorts. "You or Jenny?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, it makes sense," Jessica interrupts before you can muster a reply. "Kind of. Like, I love Hawaiian pizza, but Jessica totally gags on pineapple. So I can't even <i>think</i> of Hawaiian pizza without—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's pineapple, sis," Eva snorts. "I'm talking tits!"<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you hear about Chelsea?" you jump in. "From Philip? The new Chelsea. Everything okay with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"As far as I heard, yes," Jessica says.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Because I know for a fact—" You can't help breaking out in a grin. "That she was up at the school this afternoon with Gordon. Up in the gym. <i>Upstairs</i> in the gym, presumably." You give twin girls a knowing glance. "And Yumi, the new one, was down in the parking lot with me when we saw Gordon get there."<br/>
<br/>
They stare, then break out in titters and snorts. "I bet Chelsea, the real one," Eva gasps, "I bet it was all she could do to not barge up there and start clawing the other girl's eyeballs out."<br/>
<br/>
"Lucky you got there, Will," Jessica agrees. "But why aren't you off with her now, keeping an eye on her?"<br/>
<br/>
So you have to explain about the birthday party, which puzzles them. "We haven't heard anything from anyone about that," Jessica tells you. "Are you sure it's still on?"</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211111121322
author_id: seuzz
title: Is This a Gag?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You told James that you didn't want a party, but it vexes you to think that he took you at your word and gave up on doing something for you. Besides, you already told "Yumi" that there was going to be some kind of party, and it would be a perfect excuse for getting her together with your friends so that you can all see how Chelsea is dealing having been transformed into one of her enemies.<br/>
<br/>
So you text James to ask what's going on tonight. He texts back: <i>what make syou think thres plans?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus," you mutter aloud.<br/>
<br/>
"What?" asks Eva. But you ignore her and with flying thumbs text James back: <i>wasnt threr a party planned? my b-day?<br/>
<br/>
i though u didnt want one<br/>
<br/>
i dont but we can do somethng right? eva n jess w me want do sthing. yumi too.<br/>
<br/>
i'll get paul to cme then,</i> James replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck," you gasp, and tell the others what James texted. <br/>
<br/>
Eva snickers. "How awesome is that gonna be, watching Paul moon over Yumi and not knowing it's Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
Jessica laughs. "How awesome's it gonna be," she retorts, "watching Paul moon over Yumi, and Chelsea having to put up with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Bet you ten bucks she smacks him."<br/>
<br/>
"Not taking that bet. Of course she's going to."<br/>
<br/>
You keep texting James, until it's settled that you'll all meet at Balducci's for pizza.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Happy unbirthday, Ashton," Carson says as he weaves around the table to drop the package in front of you. You twist around in your seat to smack him as he passes, but he's out of reach before you can swing. "Thanks," you yell at him as he settles in at the head of the table. He flashes you a quick, sour smile, then settles back to watch  one of the TVs mounted in the corner of the dining room.<br/>
<br/>
Balducci's is the premier pizza place in town, and despite its prices it's popular enough to have colonized a couple of the cramped storefronts near the college campus. But then, they are small storefronts, so it's a cramped dining room your party is squeezed into. The ceiling is low and the lights are dim, and all three free-standing tables are pushed together to make enough seats for those who have arrived and those who will be arriving. A couple of frat brothers have one of the booths against the wall, where they are loudly enjoying a pitcher of beer and cheering along to the ball game that Carson is watching; out of the corner of your eye, you can't help watching to see if they're ogling your cheerleader friends. But if they are, they're well-practiced at hiding it.<br/>
<br/>
With his arrival, Carson has made it an even half-dozen at the table: you and the Garners were the first to arrive; James joined you a few minutes later with Caleb (which surprises you) for company. Your old best friend is keeping very quietly by himself, but maybe he'll perk up when the betas of his two best friends (Keith Tilley and Will Prescott) get here. You shiver a little as it occurs to you what that scene is going to look like: Caleb flanked by two magical robots pretending to be his friends.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, open it," Carson honks at you without taking his eyes from the TV. "I paid good money for it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>It</i> is a small cylinder, a little smaller than a cola can, wrapped in old newspaper that is twisted up at both ends and sealed up with rubber bands. You eye it dubious.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not Jenny's unbirthday," Jessica says before you can find an excuse to avoid opening what looks like a booby trap, and she snatches the present from in front of you. "So you can't go giving her an unbirthday present. But it is <i>my</i> unbirthday, so—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's mine too!" Eva grabs at the package, and the two sisters wrestle over it.<br/>
<br/>
"Stop it before you make a mess," Caleb says tonelessly, still entranced by the ballgame.<br/>
<br/>
Too late. Something in the package has broken, and with an "Eww!" Jessica drops it on the table. A dark, wet patch is spreading through the newspaper, and a viscous liquid drips onto the table. "What is it?" Jessica cries. "Am I going to have to—?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's soap bubbles," Caleb says. "Half a bottle of soap bubbles I had lying around from trying to entertain a visiting cousin."<br/>
<br/>
"Gross!" Jessica rubs her fingers together and makes a face.<br/>
<br/>
"It's soap and water. It's the cleanest stuff you can get on you."<br/>
<br/>
"It's all sticky! I have to go wash up."<br/>
<br/>
"It's soap and water," Carson repeats. "You're just going to go put more of it on you."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll order you Hawaiian if the waiter comes while you're gone," Eva says as her sister rises from the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Fleck you. Barf."<br/>
<br/>
"Here!" You snatch up the busted birthday present and hand it to Jessica as she passes. "Dump this in the trash while you're in there."<br/>
<br/>
"See if I get you a present next year," Carson snorts.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And that more or less defines the atmosphere of your birthday party as it progresses: pranks, snark and good-natured ribbing. Carson is the only one to bring you a gag gift, but Paul gets a lot of teasing when he presents you (unironically, you suppose) with a stuffed Tigger, and Carson and James mock-flirt with Cindy when she shows up without her boyfriend. Beta-Keith and Beta-Will settle in to flank Caleb, and it's just as creepy as you imagined it would be: you can't shake the impression that any moment the front of their faces are going to fall off, revealing the metal face-plates and transistors of androids beneath their staring, inhuman eyes. So you try not to pay attention to that end of the table.<br/>
<br/>
At last, though, the real guest of honor (as far as you're concerned) arrives: Yumi Saito, trotting in with Lin Pol. There's a pink glow in her well-scrubbed face, and her black eyes glint with an ill-veiled mischief as she glances around the table. "Happy birthday, Jenny," she says, and gives you an awkward hug from behind. She drops a stiff, brand-new leather softball glove on the table in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh boy," you say with as much enthusiasm as you fake. "Um, did Carson tell you I wanted one of these?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Did you want one specially?" She passes the empty chair next to Paul to take the empty one between Carson and Eva. "Guess I'm a mind-reader. I thought you liked to play softball."<br/>
<br/>
"I do. But since I'm not on the school team—"<br/>
<br/>
"I always wondered why you weren't." She signals the waiter who has just brought a fresh pitcher of beer for the frat brothers. "I mean, if you like softball—"<br/>
<br/>
"I like softball. I just hate team sports."<br/>
<br/>
"Right." She breaks off just long enough to order a sparkling water. "I'm really starting to know what you mean. Nothing like a freaking dysfunctional team to make you have a sport that you love."<br/>
<br/>
"Yumi thinks we should stage a mass walkout from the squad," Lin says. She's taken the seat next to Paul. "That's what she was telling me on the ride over."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Like go on strike?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No," Yumi says. "Quit the squad. Like, how much would it screw with Chelsea if half the squad just up and quit on her?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It all goes back, she explains, to the blow-up that Chelsea staged in front of the other girls last week, when she accused them all of trying to get back at her by "sabotaging" their chances to make it to a championship. "If she thinks we're sabotaging her," Yumi says, "I say we really do it to her."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't get a lot of argument, but that doesn't mean she gets much support, at least not from her fellow cheerleaders. Carson, being the asshole he is, tries egging them all on to do it, but the girls mostly just give her perplexed looks. "The fuck is she up to?" Jessica mutters in your ear. You can't say, but you're sure that Philip will find Chelsea's ploy—whatever her intent—to be "fascinating."<br/>
<br/>
You are able to glean a little more from Yumi after the party breaks up, when you follow her half a block over to House of Wax, a used-record store. After telling her (untruthfully) that you've told Will to forget about seeing any more of her, you delicately raise the subject of the cheerleader team, and ask her why she wants to give up on it.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just sick of the drama, Jenny," she sighs as she walks her fingers through some jazz albums. The bell over the door rings, and she jumps a little as she glances over at it. "And it's not good for us. I mean, never mind Chelsea and her gang. It's poisoning <i>us.</i> Jessica and Lin and Cindy and us."<br/>
<br/>
You allow that it can't be psychologically healthy to always be battling Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
"That's not what I mean," she says. "You know, Eva and Jessica don't even like Cindy that much. They don't <i>want</i> her to be squad captain."<br/>
<br/>
"They want her more than they want Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"That's the only reason they even give Cindy the time of day. They're only on the squad because Kelsey needed their votes to become captain, and then Kelsey— Pfft!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like that, Yumi," you protest.<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. "You're not on the inside. And Lin—" She glances around before leaning in toward you. "Lin's not a fan of Cindy's, either. Think about it, Jenny. You think half the squad couldn't get Chelsea out and Cindy in, if they <i>really</i> wanted her for the position?"<br/>
<br/>
A chill runs through you. Is what she's saying true? Is this what Yumi really thinks and knows?<br/>
<br/>
But you're interrupted from an unexpected direction. The bell over the door rings again, and when you look over you can't help shivering when you see Gary Chen—Westside's resident drug dealer and gang-banger—come stalking in. He looks around, then swings over toward you. There's a bright glint in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
But he ignores you to greet Yumi with a soft, "Hey."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks for coming out," she replies with a dimpled smile, and runs her fingertips down the front of his shirt.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111111213221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Wrong Guy for the Wrong Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can only stare as Yumi and Gary murmur to each other. "So how was the party?" Gary asks her.<br/>
<br/>
"It was good." Yumi glances back at you. "Or ask Jenny, it was her party."<br/>
<br/>
Gary looks up at you. His expression is hooded but not unfriendly. "So how was it?" he asks. "You like the glove?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gary helped me pick it out," Yumi says.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... Yeah!" Your voice feels like it's coming from somewhere down near your colon, and losing strength as it takes the long journey up and out. "Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
Yumi looks back up into Gary's face. "So, you still up for hanging out?" she asks. The muscles in his cheek tighten as he grins down at her.<br/>
<br/>
You have to lean against one of the record racks to keep from falling over.<br/>
<br/>
Gary Chen is a thug, one of the worst at Westside. He's not a big guy, but he is strong and wiry. And he's mean, one of the meanest assholes at the school. He doesn't go around looking for, but he is quick to take offense, and quicker still to pop someone with a hard, fast blow to the face when he thinks he's been disrespected. Once, when you accidentally stepped on the back of his foot at the drinking fountain in the tenth grade, he wheeled and put you on the floor with a haymaker to the cheek. Then he yelled at you to get up, and when you tried he put you on the floor again.<br/>
<br/>
He also deals weed, and maybe other things. You wonder how good his sales could possibly be, since everyone you know is too terrified of him to even look in his direction.<br/>
<br/>
And now Yumi Saito—supposedly—is fiddling with the zipper of his heavy coat and running her tongue over her lower lip while staring up at him from under lowered brows. "So, you figured out a place we can hang out?" she asks him.<br/>
<br/>
"I got some ideas." He catches her hands in his, and squeezes them.<br/>
<br/>
And still you say nothing, even as they turn and glide off toward the front door. Yumi bumps up against Chen as they walk, and he bumps up against her. "Great party," she tosses off over her shoulder at you, and those are the last words from her before she's gone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"No!" Jessica exclaims when you call her later that evening with the news. "Gangbang Gary?"<br/>
<br/>
"I swear to God!" You pace your bedroom with your cell to your ear, bumping against the walls as you wheel about. "Have you ever heard Yumi say anything about, like, uh—" You grasp for any possible word that wouldn't make you gag. "Being into him?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not Yumi," Jessica reminds you. "Eva!" she shouts. "You gotta hear this!" To you: "You did say it was <i>Gary Chen</i> she was flirting with, didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes! He—"<br/>
<br/>
You break off at the sounds of a struggle on the other end of the line. "Okay, what were you saying?" Jessica gasps. "I'm back."<br/>
<br/>
"We're both back!" That's Eva, and it sounds like both of them are breathing heavily into the phone. "Details!"<br/>
<br/>
So you describe as well as you can remember what happened exactly as it happened: How you followed Yumi into House of Wax to talk some more about the cheerleader scene, and of what she said about the Garners and Lin not really liking Cindy and so not really wanting to get behind her to unseat Chelsea. <br/>
<br/>
But that, even before you can get to Chen's arrival, provokes outraged cries from the other girls.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, she's so full of shit!" Jessica says, and Eva says, "I never— We never— These girls never said anything against Cindy! She's one of our— One of <i>their friends!"</i><br/>
<br/>
"They voted for Chelsea when it came time to vote for squad captain," you remind them.<br/>
<br/>
"They were going to vote for Kelsey, but she stomped off in a snit first. And besides, <i>everyone</i>, even Cindy, voted for Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"It was only unanimous," Jessica puts in, "because Chelsea was going to win anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"She was only going to win," you put in, "because Eva and Jessica's votes were going to put her over the top. At least, that's what Yumi—the real Yumi—told, uh, Jenny, back when it happened."<br/>
<br/>
"It's still bullshit," Eva insists, but Jessica shushes her. "Gangbang Gary," she says. "Go on with that?"<br/>
<br/>
So you tell the story a second time, emphasizing the flirtiness that Yumi showed with him. "They must have set it up to meet when the party was over," you conclude, "because he knew all about it. He even wished me a happy birthday. I think. Honestly, my head was reeling so hard—"<br/>
<br/>
"When would they have set it up?" Jessica asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, the question is <i>why!</i>" Eva says.<br/>
<br/>
"That's why I was calling you! Well, to tell you all about it, and to ask, have you ever heard Yumi say anything about liking Gary that way?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," Eva says after a brief pause. "It's totally not like her. It must be Chelsea. Oh, <i>God!</i>" she cries. "You don't think <i>Chelsea</i> has a thing for—"<br/>
<br/>
When you all finish squealing with horror, Jessica says, "Maybe she does have a thing for him. I mean, she's all into <i>Gordon.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon's captain of the basketball team," Eva retorts. "She has to be into him, it's a professional obligation. But Gary's just ... <i>g'yuuhhh!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"But some of it's gotta be Yumi herself," you say. "Like you and Hawaiian pizza, right, Carlos? Even if she had a thing for Gary, if Yumi was all repulsed by him—"<br/>
<br/>
"Which she is," Jessica puts in. "She's got to be."<br/>
<br/>
"Then Chelsea wouldn't want to—"<br/>
<br/>
"She can't want to anyway!" <br/>
<br/>
"Well, she's into him <i>some</i> way!"<br/>
<br/>
"But how much is <i>he</i> into <i>her</i>?" Jessica sniggers. "Some way, part way, or all the way up and inside?"<br/>
<br/>
You and Eva both scream.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, the thing to do," Jessica says when you've all calmed down again, "is to talk to Josiah. He was playing Chelsea, he'll know if—" She breaks off; it sounds like she's trying to stifle the giggles.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you object. "He's not going to want to tell us if <i>Chelsea</i> was, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude! He was telling us what she <i>smelled</i> like! Fingers up her pussy and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Eww! I don't want to hear about it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we'll call him. He was gonna spend the day with Philip. You know, with Maria, we can talk to both of them about it, see what they have to say."<br/>
<br/>
"Call me back," you tell her. "I'll call Cindy and tell her, then tell you what <i>she—</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What does it matter to her? To Tilley, I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"What does it mean to any of us?" you retort. "But it's fun!"<br/>
<br/>
With laughter on both sides, you hang up.<br/>
<br/>
Before dialing Cindy's number, though, you pause to peer down at the front of your slacks. <i>Fingers inside and then—?</i><br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. It's tempting, but you've got a whole night ahead of you to fill.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Cindy, like the Garners, is flabbergasted by the news about Yumi and Gary, but she hasn't anything to say. Nor does Eva when she texts you later on: <i>meet at studio tmrrow to talk,</i> she says. She remains cryptic in the texts that follow, except to say that Philip wants to talk over that and some other stuff. Your guts feel like twisted-up rubber bands as you anticipate the morrow and what you might learn, and it takes a hot bath—and some slow and discreet underwater probing—to relax you enough for bed.<br/>
<br/>
The next morning you have church to get through, and then lunch with your parents—Jenny's dad is a lot more relaxed than yours, but otherwise the Ashtons' Sundays are a lot like the Prescotts', and it's nearly two o'clock before you've shrugged off family duties and can meet your friends inside Carlos's makeshift gym.<br/>
<br/>
"The guys are watching a movie," Jessica says when you ask about the sounds coming from the studio next door. "For their next video. Cocksucker." She jabs Cindy, who is texting on her phone. "You should be in there watching it with them, if you're going to make a video with them."<br/>
<br/>
"What do I need to watch it for?" she retorts without looking up. "I'm just being cast for my tits."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Deanna?" you ask, for she's the only one of the company not present.<br/>
<br/>
"Not coming," Maria says. "He's got other commitments. But I talked to Josiah. He didn't have anything to say about Chelsea or her, um, crushes. He said he doesn't really remember anything, not anything that Chelsea knew."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Eva snorts. "You saying he didn't <i>get deep enough into her?</i> Bullshit."<br/>
<br/>
"No, he got in deep enough I'm sure," Maria says. "Only the memories seem to have faded. It's an interesting phenomenon, one we'll have to study closer when another one of us moves from their primary beta into their secondary." She gives Cindy a very long look, but Cindy is still preoccupied with her phone.<br/>
<br/>
"How's Yumi dealing with being Chelsea?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I guess," Maria says. "She was very quiet all Friday afternoon and evening, but she had all her confidence back by yesterday. The memories, you know. Tomorrow should be interesting at practice."<br/>
<br/>
Eva snorts. "It'll be more interesting when she finds out that, um, <i>she</i> is dating Gary Chen."<br/>
<br/>
"And that's what I want us to talk about," Maria says. Her lips whiten as she presses them together. "I think it's a really bad idea for Gary to get involved with her."<br/>
<br/>
"Dur. So what do we do about it?"<br/>
<br/>
Maria hesitates. "We could wait to see if it will end on its own. It doesn't seem like something that should last. It would be interesting to observe as it evolves over its natural lifespan."<br/>
<br/>
"'Its natural lifespan'," Jessica retorts in a mocking simper. "She's gonna get hurt, and it'll be <i>Yumi</i> who—"<br/>
<br/>
"The alternative is to make another switch," Maria says. She looks around. "One of us could take Gary as a second beta."</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111112132213
author_id: seuzz
title: Bagging a Thug
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Gary?" Jessica exclaims after a stunned silence has hung in the air for a good few seconds. "You want one of us to turn himself into <i>Gary?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Maria says. "To protect Yumi. As you just said, she's going to get hurt if we don't—"<br/>
<br/>
"One of <i>us</i> is going to get hurt if we <i>do!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pah!" Jessica throws her hands in the air. "He's a freaking thug, that's what I mean! He's a criminal! He's gonna wind up in jail one of these days, probably for killing someone!"<br/>
<br/>
"He hasn't yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Emphasis on 'yet', man! And look who he hangs out with! Those guys are scary! <i>He's</i> scary!"<br/>
<br/>
Maria smiles as though addressing a child.<br/>
<br/>
"In the first place," she says, "if you switched with him you'd have all his memories and personality traits, so you could handle the people he hangs out with. And if you switched with him, then <i>you'd</i> be scary. In the second place, you wouldn't even have to switch with him. Keith hasn't switched with his other beta yet." She gives Cindy another long look, which she returns with a blank look of her own. "So—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, in <i>my</i> second place," Jessica retorts, "we'd get hurt if we even tried doing anything to him. Even the football players don't hassle him. If we tried jumping him—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, come on, sis," Eva interrupts. "You think Gary would hit a girl? You really think he'd hit one of us?"<br/>
<br/>
She pouts as she says it, and shifts so as to thrust her boobs out. She crosses one leg over the other and arches her foot. She shakes her hair back, and runs a tongue over her lower lip.<br/>
<br/>
"Mike's right," Maria says after a long, pregnant pause. "We wouldn't have a problem getting him out here—or anyplace else—with his guard down. But even if no one actually switches places with him, we need someone to volunteer their hair for the enslavement spell."<br/>
<br/>
"So why don't you switch with him?" Jessica grumbles. She crosses her arms. "You're so hot to—"<br/>
<br/>
"I have to stay where I am. No one else is positioned so as to keep the real Yumi under observation."<br/>
<br/>
"Then use your hair!"<br/>
<br/>
Before Fairfax can give in, you interrupt: "I'll do it."<br/>
<br/>
Four heads swivel. "Will?" Maria says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I said I'd do it. Fuck." You rub your arm, for you suddenly feel cold. "I should be the one anyway. I'm the one who got her— Chelsea— Yumi— Both of them— Into this mess. It was my idea to switch them."<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you're hoping that the others will argue with you. But after exchanging glances, they shrug and fall silent. Maria takes out her phone.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll try to set it up for late this afternoon or this evening," she says. "The longer he's with her, the greater the chance something bad could happen."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Something bad's already set to happen,</i> you think glumly to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Did you notice back there, how bad Fairfax wants you to switch into Seth's mask?" you ask Cindy when you're getting coffee with her later that afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
"No I didn't," Cindy replies with vacant insouciance. "Oops, guess I won't, then." She sips her latte and stares out the plate glass window onto Twentieth Street.<br/>
<br/>
"So you're not ever going to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not unless you come up with some scheme or other to get me out of this get-up, the way you did with Shank."<br/>
<br/>
Your lip curls. "That wasn't why I suggested doing the thing with Yumi and Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"And yet look at how things worked out. Oh well," she sighs. "Something like that was bound to happen sooner or later. Fairfax is just itching to have some kind of 'project'. It's what lets him keep pretending that this whole thing isn't just about the tits."<br/>
<br/>
She's wearing a very tight sweater today, so that her own tits are straining to burst forth. With her freshly scrubbed skin and glowing hair, she's practically bursting out of her clothes with health.<br/>
<br/>
"So you're planning on staying like that forever?" You sip your own coffee.<br/>
<br/>
That gets her to glance at you. Briefly she looks puzzled, as though she doesn't understand what you're talking about. Then she flushes a little, which only makes her look even healthier.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want me to do, Will? Go back to being my old self? God." She winces. "I've had to change the route I take between classes so I don't run into my beta." <br/>
<br/>
Then her eyes narrow. "But <i>you've</i> got something to go back to," she says peevishly, "when you want. <i>We</i> made sure of that."<br/>
<br/>
"So do the same for <i>your</i> beta," you retort. "Clean yourself up the way I did."<br/>
<br/>
Her expression curdles further. <br/>
<br/>
"And then it was also smart of you to pick <i>Jenny,</i> of all people, for your disguise," she sneers. "So you won't be losing anything like <i>we're</i> losing when—" She breaks off to pick something off the tip of her tongue. Maybe it was the unuttered conclusion of her sentence, for she doesn't resume after she's flicked it away.<br/>
<br/>
"So you're going to stay like that forever."<br/>
<br/>
She winces.<br/>
<br/>
Then she sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Will. I mean, I guess not. It wouldn't be right, would it? But maybe—" <br/>
<br/>
She visibly struggles, then wilts. "I just don't want to think about it," she resumes. "So can we not talk about it?"<br/>
<br/>
You've got your own topic that you don't want to talk or think about, so you find a neutral subject.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You'd gone off with Keith because Fairfax thought it would be awhile before they could lure Chen out to an ambush, but while you're still drinking your coffee you get a text from Maria: <i>Gary on way come back.</i> Another text with the same news arrives from Jessica as you scoop up your stuff and start for the door.<br/>
<br/>
Your target must have been close to the storage complex already when he said he would be coming out, for there's a strange car—a Jeep with a canvas body—parked in front of the climate-controlled unit when you get back. Cautiously you enter the building and softly jog down the corridor. Voices sound from Carlos's units.<br/>
<br/>
The exercise room is empty, but there's a crowd in the studio, including Carlos's and Mike's betas, who are looking freaked out. They and Eva and Jessica are huddled in front of the desk,. "Hey," you say," and the two girls whirl at the sound of your voice. "I got a message to come out and—"<br/>
<br/>
Your voice dies. Between the two girls you can make out a figure lying on the desk. Eva follows your gaze, then with a sharp smile pushes the two betas back so you can get a better view.<br/>
<br/>
It's Gary Chen. He's sprawling on the desk, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart flips in your chest.<br/>
<br/>
He's dressed as you usually see him at school, in olive-colored canvas trousers and a dark, heavy coat. A gray ski cap is pulled down tight over his forehead, the hem almost even with his eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
"Fast work," you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"And easy, too," Eva says. She stretches languidly. "I just pushed him up against the desk and breathed in his face, then Jessica got him from behind with the dingus."<br/>
<br/>
"It was fast 'cos there's something new we want to try," her sister says. Before explaining, she glances at the two betas. "You guys want to go off and talk about the movie or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that an order?" beta-Mike says, but beta-Carlos says, "You bet I sure do," and pulls his fellow fake into the hall. One of them mutters to the other, and then you hear pounding footfalls as they run off.<br/>
<br/>
"We want to try to get you into Gary's memories early," Eva says. "You know how it took you, like, all night to get Jenny's?" She points at your face.<br/>
<br/>
Actually, you feel like you got her memories pretty much instantly. But you shrug rather than argue.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we figure you don't want to be hanging around someplace with Gary's face but no idea how to act like him. You know, in case trouble comes calling."<br/>
<br/>
"No!" Jessica snorts. "Sweet, lovable Gary get in trouble? Impossible."<br/>
<br/>
"So we're gonna try doing it as a two-step process," Eva resumes after sticking her tongue out at her sister. "We're gonna give you the thing that gives you his memories. After that we're going to put the actual mask on you."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean it isn't the mask that gives you the memories and the other stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's complicated, Will," Jessica says. "It's actually two pieces. The mask copies the body and this other thing—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's like a metal strip," interrupts Eva.<br/>
<br/>
"It gives you the memories. We glue them together so you get them both at the same time."<br/>
<br/>
"So what difference does it make if we do it this other way?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what we want to find out," Jessica says. "Philip will be here soon, he wants to see what happens, see if it works. We know from testing it out that if you just put the memory strip on, you'll get the memories right away. So we want to see if we can give you the memories that way, then add the mask after that."<br/>
<br/>
But there's an easier way, maybe for everyone. You can just stay as Jenny, and turn Gary into a beta you can order around.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211111121322131
author_id: seuzz
title: A Man of Two Minds and Half Out of Both of Them
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't have to turn yourself into Gary Chen. But it's probably best to try controlling him from the inside rather than the outside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Which is how, nearly half an hour later, you find yourself scowling at Will Prescott's face in a mirror and fighting the urge to punch it. <i>So this is what it's like to be a </i>gweilo, you growl to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Hair, blonde. Skin, pale, even under the fading summertime tan. Hazel-colored eyes. No stubble, but give it a couple of days and there'll be some stiff, yellow whiskers on your chin and cheekbones.<br/>
<br/>
You cuss softly as your glare hardens into a wince. With a face and a body like this you could walk through school without getting any of those sidelong looks, those little smirks, those darting, needling little glances people give you because you're not one of <i>them.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fuck yeah, you could pass yourself off as a <i>white person.</i><br/>
<br/>
If only it wasn't this body. Skinny, no muscles, no poise, a face that instinctively curls up into a cringing squint.<br/>
<br/>
And it's not like anyone respects this little fuck. You're pretty sure that also goes for the cocksuckers in the next unit over, the ones that tricked you out here and are trying to turn you into someone else. No, check that. Those cocksuckers who are trying to turn <i>someone else,</i> this Prescott fuck, into <i>you.</i><br/>
<br/>
Yeah. Those motherfuckers.<br/>
<br/>
You wheel at the sound of squelching footsteps just outside the unit. Jessica Garner steps, gives you one quick look, then whirls to put her back to you. "Jesus, man," she snarls. "We gave you some <i>pants</i> to put on!"<br/>
<br/>
Yeah, Chen's canvas trousers are puddled on the floor by the weight bench. <br/>
<br/>
You woke to find them draped over your naked crotch—your <i>male</i> crotch, Jenny's mask having come off so they could implant you with Gary Chen's mind and personality. His pants had slid off when you—shocked at finding your real legs replaced with some pale, hairy, skinny imitations—rose and lurched over to the mirror to star aghast at your transformation, taking it at first as the transformation of Gary Chen into someone else, and then (with a feeling of horrified relief) remembering that it's a waypoint in the transformation of yourself into Gary Chen. Neither of you paid much attention to the pants as you lacerated your eyeballs with a body possessed by (or half-possessed; maybe "steeped in the hot water of" would be the best way of putting it) the wrong kind of mind.<br/>
<br/>
And now here's Jessica, to bitch at you as though any of this is your fault. "You got anything else for me?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No." She keeps her back to you. "Are you putting the pants on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where's the rest of it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your clothes? I'll bring 'em in when the mask's ready."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm talking about the fucking mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't cuss at me, Will." She turns her head fractionally. "Or is that Gary who's acting like a douche?"<br/>
<br/>
You catch yourself before you can loose a string of bad words at her. <i>Down, boy,</i> you tell Chen, but his personality only snarls and snaps back at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I've got him in here with me," you reply. Your chest feels tight, as though closed up with metal bands. "He really wants to punch something."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? Hey Maria! Guys!" she yells. To you, over her shoulder: "Put the fucking pants on, man."<br/>
<br/>
"Like there ain't nothing down here you ain't sucked long and hard on, bitch," you mutter, but cross over to snatch up Gary's trousers. They hang loose on your skinny hips after you get them on.<br/>
<br/>
When you turn around, the two Garner girls and Maria Vasquez are studying you from the doorway. "Does the memory unit work?" Maria asks.<br/>
<br/>
Memory unit? <i>Fuck.</i> "If you're asking, can I think and act and talk like Chen, I think the answer's yes, God damn it." You squeeze your head between the heels of your hands. "Fuck. It's like a wrestling contest up here."<br/>
<br/>
The girls exchange quick, shifty glances. "But, um, you know who you really are. Right?" Jessica asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. Yes. And I know who <i>you</i> are too, asswipe." You drop your  hands. "And I remember last year, man," you continue. "Montoya. When you came sucking up to me looking to score a little weed. Remember what I told you?" <br/>
<br/>
Jessica's cheeks crimson, so you drag Gary back down again. "Fuck. Sorry." You dig at an eye with a knuckle. "It's just that my temper's about <i>this short</i>"—you press your thumb and index finger together—"on account of I'm having one fuck of a time holding this asshole back. He is <i>really</i> not happy."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we should take the unit off of you, then," Maria says.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't touch me, man," you snap as she takes a step toward you. "Just get me the rest of the shit, the mask, whatever. I think I'll be better when I'm all one way or all the other. This being in between, not being one fucker and not being the other—" A hard shudder racks your body.<br/>
<br/>
"You're just going to have to be patient, Will," Maria says. She pulls at the others' elbows. "Go back and take care of the mask when it comes out of Gary," she tells them. "Then get Jenny's mask onto him. If this is what he's like when Will's got control of him—" But she doesn't have to finish the warning, for the others have already scampered away.<br/>
<br/>
She studies you, then steps into the unit. "Will," she says in a low, quiet voice. "If it's really that hard for you, maybe you should let me—" She raises her hand, then freezes as you jerk your head back. "It would only be until we get the body mask prepared," she says. "Then we would put both the unit and the mask onto you so that—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I can wait," you tell her. You draw a ragged breath, then drop onto the bench. "Like I said, I just feel like I'm half out of one skin and only half into the other."<br/>
<br/>
"And when you've got <i>all</i> the way into Gary's skin?" she asks. Doubt sounds in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I think I'll be fine. I was fine as Jenny, wasn't I? I mean, I could do her personality, and I think I could do it without really trying. But it was <i>me,</i> right?" But worry—fear, even—wells up in your heart when you see the grave frown settling onto Maria's face.<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose," she says. "We didn't see that much of each other. And, to be perfectly honest, Will, I don't know you well enough to know what your real character is like. I don't know Jenny that well either. And Carlos and Mike told me—"<br/>
<br/>
She bites her lip. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, they told me," she says, "that you were so ... <i>convincing</i> as Jenny at school that sometimes they worried it really was Jenny who had come back. That you'd, well, disappeared inside her so completely that you weren't there anymore. But then you would," she adds as you feel your eyes widen. "How did it feel on your side of things?"<br/>
<br/>
You rub your forehead, which is alarmingly slick with sweat. <br/>
<br/>
"No, I never felt like I disappeared," you tell her. "I always felt like I was there, like it was me. It was just, you know, really easy for me to act like Jenny would act. People would talk to me, and it would be just like instinct to talk and act back with them. You know?" You furrow your brow. "Isn't it the same with you?" <br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Well." She looks away. "I don't think I'd say it ever feels like <i>instinct.</i> I have to remind myself of who I'm supposed to be." She blinks. "I sort of have to hypnotize myself to go on auto-pilot when I'm around Maria's family. It's easier at school. Maria doesn't talk a lot, so I mostly just have to keep quiet when I'm in class." Her brow relaxes into a soft frown. "It's almost impossible for me to play her character," she says, "when I'm talking to someone who knows who I really am."<br/>
<br/>
There's a silence between you for a moment. Then she says, "You seem to have calmed down, now."<br/>
<br/>
And, instantly, Chen's fury boils up in your chest, and you have to jam it down hard. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was okay until you said <i>that.</i> Maybe if you'd just keep treating me like Will Prescott and not like— Fuck!" You grab your head. You are almost overthrown by a ravening urge to scream at her. <i>Cunt! Whore! Succubus!</i> The words claw at the inside of your chest.<br/>
<br/>
You look up at the sound of feet shuffling at the doorway. Jessica runs in, and stops short as you glare at her. She's holding a bluish object: a mask. "Are we okay in here?" she asks Maria.<br/>
<br/>
"We're fine," Fairfax tells her. She takes the mask and turns to you. "Are you ready, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
You fall back on the bench. "Oh, God, please," you mutter, and stare up haggardly as she looms over you. For a moment she hesitates, then turns the mask toward you. You shut your eyes and wince hard.<br/>
<br/>
Something cold and hard touches your face. It holds there for a second. Then, with the weight of anvil, it sinks into your face and through the back of your skull, dragging your body in after it as it sinks toward the center of the earth, turning you inside out as it pulls you down in its wake...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You snap your eyes open with the feeling of having been slapped, and sit up sharply. Cold sweat pops out all over. You wipe your chest with an open palm—<br/>
<br/>
You freeze. Your hand. It's a creamy brown, with tapering fingers.<br/>
<br/>
And you've got a chest. Actual pectorals.<br/>
<br/>
You spring up and in two strides are at the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
Your face tapers from a broad forehead past high cheekbones to a narrow jaw. Your eyes are like scimitars. Dark hair is plastered to your eyebrows and the back of your neck.<br/>
<br/>
Gary Chen stares back at you.<br/>
<br/>
A grin, hard enough to shatter the mirror, breaks out across your face.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111111213221311
author_id: seuzz
title: When Yumi Met Gary, Part 1
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You run light fingertips over your body, and flex in different directions. Your muscles are lean, smooth, and hard. Your olive-colored skin—no baby fat on this frame—stretches tightly over them. You snap white teeth at your reflection, and your eyes glint like mica.<br/>
<br/>
Your pants fell off again when you sprang for the mirror, and the rest of your clothes are piled up on the foot locker nearby. You quickly snap on tight boxers, haul the trousers up around your hips, and drop onto the weight bench to pull on the heavy woolen socks. You're sweeping up your t-shirt when Jessica looks in from the hall. "Hey, babe," you greet her; your upper lip peels up in a leer.<br/>
<br/>
Her expression turns black and pinched. "Are we feeling better?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck yeah!" You flex one arm. Your biceps aren't huge, but they bulge appreciably. When she only glowers in reply, your stretch back in a way that throws out your smooth chest. "How's <i>your</i> bod treatin' you?"<br/>
<br/>
She rolls her eyes. "When you're done jerking off," she says, "come next door. Jenny needs instructions."<br/>
<br/>
So you grab up your boots, hooking them and your shirt both into the crook of your arm. Jessica shrinks back as you swagger up; you lean into her face as you pass, and snap your teeth at her. She gasps. You chuckle.<br/>
<br/>
Maria and Eva are in the studio, studying a third girl—Jenny Ashton—from behind their crossed arms. Jenny is dressed and looking very alert, but also a little put out, as though the others haven't been telling her anything she wants to hear. She does a double-take at you as you saunter in, and pulls in a sharp breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, so I'm wanted in here?" you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," says Maria. "Jenny here—"<br/>
<br/>
"Will?" Jenny squeaks. "Wow." She peers at you. "You look just like him!"<br/>
<br/>
"I fuckin' should," you retort. "These girls are pros at what they do. Aren't you?" You pinch Maria on the butt, and she squaws. "Chillax," you tell her. "I'm feeling a lot better now. I guess we got business needs doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right," she says, and rubs her skirt. "Jenny—"<br/>
<br/>
"What's the deal with Yumi?" Jenny interrupts. "How'd she get mixed up with you? With Gary, I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is that all that's got her excited?</i>. "She texted me yesterday afternoon, wanted to know if I'd meet up with her at the mall. I was all like—"<br/>
<br/>
The memory of yesterday afternoon rolls back over you, as vivid as burning sheet lightning.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey." You jerk your chin at Yumi, who's standing at the mall entrance. She looks up from her phone, and puts it away. "So, you got an emergency or something?" You dart your eyes about the parking lot. <i>Trouble,</i> you tell yourself in an under-the-breath hiss. <i>Yumi Saito wouldn't be calling you unless there was trouble. Either she's deep in it, or she's setting you up for some.</i><br/>
<br/>
"No, no emergency," she says. Shallow dimples show in her cheeks. "I was just lonely, bored, wanted company. So I texted you." She smiles up into your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Wyncha call your girlfriends?"<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes narrow even as her smile broadens. "You want me to? Send you away, call some of my girlfriends?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug and glance away. This is not anything you expected, and not anything you're prepared for.<br/>
<br/>
Girls do not flirt with you. Girls cringe and turn away when they don't just ignore you. Or they try to out-bluster you, they get in your face and challenge you to take them and do something with them. And that's almost worse, because it's only the tramps—the fat ones who live in trailer parks, the ones with no hope of anyone better than you and who are sure that you've no hope of anyone better than them—who open themselves to you, who with reeking desperation dare you to sink yourself into them, like a plunging wreck seeking the bottom of a swamp.<br/>
<br/>
And, sure as fuck, it's never one of the cheerleaders who texts to you to come out and see them.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi grasps at the zipper of your coat. "Look at <i>me,</i> Gary," she pouts. "Did you really drive all the way up here so you could <i>not</i> look at me and <i>not</i> talk to me?"<br/>
<br/>
Your cock tingles but doesn't stir, and you've the terrifying impression that it's looking up at you and asking what it should do. <i>Hey boss, you want I should stand up or anything? Or would that be a waste of time?</i><br/>
<br/>
The moment hangs.<br/>
<br/>
Then in a flash of clarity you realize you can do one of three things.<br/>
<br/>
You run away crying, like a little girl who's been teased by a bully.<br/>
<br/>
You can vomit right in her face.<br/>
<br/>
Or you can grin, tell Yumi you'd love to spend the afternoon with her, and ask where she's planning to do her shopping.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"And then, like, I hung out with her at about eighty or ninety different department stores and helped her pick out a bunch of clothes she didn't buy." You shrug like it was no biggie, and refrain from talking about the way you spent the afternoon nearly choking on your heart. "Then she went to this birthday party that she said I wasn't invited to, but she told me to meet her at this record store afterward. I saw you there," you tell Jenny. Then you wink at her. "Or, I guess, I saw Gary there. 'Dj'you know the motherfucker was almost as freaked out as Jenny was?"<br/>
<br/>
"It still doesn't make any sense," Eva complains. She and the other girls, of course, were listening as well.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell you what doesn't make any sense," you retort. "A bunch of dickweeds using this shit to turn themselves into high school cheerleaders when—"<br/>
<br/>
You catch yourself before you can finish the thought: <i>When they could be running out to Hollywood and turning themselves into pop singers or movie stars. Basking in the glare of stadium lights as millionaire athletes. Making betas out of billionaires.</i><br/>
<br/>
"When what?" Maria prompts.<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. Point is, crazy shit's bound to happen when you do something crazy like swapping cheerleaders around. You wanna know what Chelsea wants and why she wants it? Send me in to find out. Fuck." You grab for your phone. "Which reminds me—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Whew! Only a little after five.</i> You've plenty of time before six-thirty, when you're supposed to pick Yumi up and take her out for that dinner date she promised to go on with you. Your heart beats hard, for you still can't shake the feeling that she's not serious about you. <br/>
<br/>
"What were you saying?" you ask Maria. She was making mouth noises.<br/>
<br/>
"I was saying, your job is to break up with her. If you're really going out with her. Do it in a way that she won't go back to Gary after you're out of the mask. If you can do it hard enough and nasty enough, we can probably get you back inside Jenny's mask before you go home tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I can probably do that," you allow. You cock an eye at Jenny. "What're <i>you</i> gonna do until then?"<br/>
<br/>
"She can hang out with us," Jessica answers. Her glance darkens. "Unless you've got plans for her."<br/>
<br/>
"Nope." You look around. "Was that the only emergency? Wha'd you need me in here for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind," Maria says. "Just tell Jenny to hang out with us tonight." She prods you again with the request, and you pass it along directly to your first beta. "I'll close up here," Maria then tells the others with a knowing look. Eva and Jessica pull Jenny out of the unit. Maria follows them out into the hall to watch them depart, then returns.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess things are going to be okay with Jenny's beta," she says. "But I wanted you to be sure to give her some kind of orders. Keith has had some problems with Seth, getting griefed by him."<br/>
<br/>
"Getting griefed by him how?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing really important. And it's Keith's fault anyway for not keeping him on a leash. But Jenny's beta is different. She— <i>It.</i> Knows things. And if it went out and said the wrong thing to the wrong people, or did something—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I get." You hop onto the desk so you can pull on your boots—combat-style, naturally, with heavy soles, good for kicking and stomping. "But we got her tied down for tonight, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," says Maria. "We'll keep an eye on her." She pauses. "You know, she said some ... interesting things while we were waiting for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like things I'm sure you'll remember after you're back in her mask. Can you meet up with Chelsea tonight? With Yumi, I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got a date with her, in fact."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. First and last date, right?" <br/>
<br/>
She looks you up and down. "Are you ever going to put that shirt on?" she asks your still-bare chest.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You finish dressing out in the Jeep. The thin ski cap is the last touch, and you take a  good minute getting it on with the help of the rearview mirror, pulling and adjusting it, tucking hair in here and tugging it out there, getting the hem to sit exactly in a line with your eyebrows. Then you slide on a pair of wraparound rayban sunglasses and grin at yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The fuck's it matter,</i> you tell yourself as you turn the motor over with a roar, <i>that my life's a festering shit pile, when for tonight at least I'm this sexy and got a date with a cheerleader?</i></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111112132213111
author_id: seuzz
title: When Yumi Met Gary, Part 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You got nothing to do until it's time to meet up with Yumi, and an hour and a half to do it in. That's both the glory and the bane of Gary Chen's weekends. No shit to deal with but the epic stretches of empty time.<br/>
<br/>
So you jam down Twentieth until you run out of city, then wheel around and work your way back over to Farm Road, the residential boulevard that hugs the western side of town. You follow it all the way up to the interstate—gunning the engine at stoplights and grimacing at the assholes in front of you—then hit the highway east. It takes you past car dealerships and box stores, past the mall and warehouses, all the way out in the country again, sailing off toward ...<br/>
<br/>
Well, where?<br/>
<br/>
Anyplace that Gary Chen's troubles can't follow.<br/>
<br/>
Memories tickle the back of your brain, but you ignore them to glare out at the rolling countryside with its stands and belts of trees. The hills are touched with yellow, and the trees wracked with crimsons and browns, for October has more than half passed, and the air is cool under a dry but cloudy sky, and the moody thought that you are halfway to the halfway point of your final year in high school hangs heavily off your shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
And after graduation?<br/>
<br/>
Because there's no fear of that, as you explained to Yumi last night.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You're so funny," she said. You were sitting in your Jeep, in the parking lot behind the record store. It was raining again, and the roof rattled as though pelted by pebbles. It was dark, and you were huddled up close to each other, playing with each other's fingers and murmuring into each other's faces. Did you dare lean in to kiss her? <i>No, not yet.</i> Maybe now? <i>No, not yet. Now?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Fuck are you talking about? What makes me funny?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I don't mean like that. I mean, you're in my math class. And in Orchestra."<br/>
<br/>
"Someone's gotta be. Fucking instruments won't play themselves."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't reply, and with a twinge you think she's probably wincing at all your cussing. "What other classes are you taking?" she finally asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I gotta English class and a science class—"<br/>
<br/>
"What English? What science?"<br/>
<br/>
"English IV and Physics II."<br/>
<br/>
"AP?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck you.</i> "No, just regular."<br/>
<br/>
She sits up. "But you're taking AP Stat with me."<br/>
<br/>
<i>A fact you never fucking noticed before.</i> "Yeah. That and Orchestra, like you said. Oh, and a bullshit business class. Marketing."<br/>
<br/>
"Still," she said, settling back close to you. "Physics II and AP Stat. I'm taking Chemistry II. And I'm not even in the regular English IV class, I'm in the Classical Literature class."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. So what's that got to do with making me funny?"<br/>
<br/>
"How are your grades?"<br/>
<br/>
You stifle a sigh. "Getting A's, mostly. I'm a little borderline in Physics."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, see, that's what makes you funny." She twined her fingers inside yours. "Everyone thinks you're a thug, Gary. 'Gangbanger Gary,' y'know? Ow," she says as you clench her fingers between yours.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry." <i>Not sorry.</i> "Why are you telling me this? 'Cos I fucking know—"<br/>
<br/>
"But you're taking those classes. Those are real classes. And you're not blowing them off out at the portables or behind the music wing, like the rest of those— Assholes. 'Cos you're passing them. You're getting A's, you said, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I said." Your chest tightened. It's not fun balancing two jobs—one of them extremely illegal—with school and a home life dominated by a sick old man, and it's not easy, and it's not something you wanted to brag about or even to explain. "So?"<br/>
<br/>
"So that doesn't fit with what people think of you."<br/>
<br/>
Scorn dripped from your voice. "You want me to <i>show</i> them that side of me?"<br/>
<br/>
She didn't answer right away. Then she said, "No!" and inched up closer to you. "I wouldn't pay any attention to you if you did."<br/>
<br/>
She never paid attention to you before, but your forgave her that now as she put her face into the crook of your neck and rubbed her nose there.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have a tiger mom too?" she murmured.<br/>
<br/>
"G'ym. Yeah, I guess you could call her that." You felt like you were choking on your own erection.<br/>
<br/>
"Does she drive you <i>crazy?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sometimes."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that how come you're ... coiled up so tight? So ... <i>hard?"</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Jesus Fucking His Father Up the Ass Christ.</i> She has no idea how ... hard<i> ... you are right now.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Is that why you like to ... <i>hurt</i> people?"<br/>
<br/>
You sucked so hard on your lower lip that you almost swallowed it. <br/>
<br/>
"Mmm. I got a lotta stress in my life," you allowed. "Sometimes I don't got the patience, like, to deal with the morons and the assholes." <i>And the motherfucking racists.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Me neither," she breathed. "I'm taking hard classes too. I've got a lot of stress. Oh my God." Her voice trailed away into a whisper. "It's like we're made for each other."<br/>
<br/>
You almost impaled yourself on your own cock. And it fizzed and it bit and it banged its head against your zipper when she raised her face to yours, wrapped one of your lips between hers, and tugged ever so gently.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Fuck! God <i>damn</i> it!" The Jeep wobbles as you frantically search for a place to turn around. In your reverie you stopped watching what you were doing, and it's now ten minutes after six and you're at least twenty-five miles out of town. The next exit is—<br/>
<br/>
You search for landmarks, but every tree and bush and hillock looks like every other goddamned one. If you have to drive all the way out to Roryvale or Waxtend, which are the next podunk burgs on the interstate—<br/>
<br/>
"Motherfucker!" you scream when you glimpse the black-and-white in your rearview mirror. With gritted teeth you tap the brake to bring your speed down to a hair under the limit.<br/>
<br/>
For five miles you sail along with the cruiser slowly creeping up behind you. You cuss long and softly to yourself as you wonder if your tags are up to date. If he pulls you over, he won't be able to search you with probable cause. But if he's got a dog with him and the dog finds the steel box welded to the underside of the Jeep, it won't matter if he's got probable cause or not. You'll be shit out of luck anyway.<br/>
<br/>
You're in the left-hand lane, and when the black-and-white is about thirty yards behind, and still closing, you signal and move into the right-hand lane. For a long moment the cop hangs back. Then he speeds up and crawls past you on the let. You prop your forearm in the window and rest your head against your hand, as though relaxing, when in fact you're hiding the twitch in your cheek.<br/>
<br/>
The black-and-white cruises past. When it disappears around a corner, you jam hard on your brakes, dropping to only forty, and when you emerge onto the straightaway on the other side, he's nearly a hundred yards ahead. You speed up again, but keep well below the limit. When the cop vanishes into a series of S-curves, you drop back to thirty-five and start searching for a turnaround.<br/>
<br/>
There are no barriers in the median between the eastbound and westbound lanes, only a wide strip of thick, tall grass. After darting hard glances up and down the highway to assure yourself of its emptiness, you brake hard, jam the Jeep into first, and roar and bump and grind your way through hidden holes and shallow gullies over to the westbound lane. A single SUV rockets past as you pause, then you punch the accelerator and launch yourself back onto the interstate. The engine screams as with quick strokes you shift and accelerate back up into fourth gear. You do eighty all the way back to Saratoga Falls, as you gulp down deep draughts of air and try to pull your heart back down into your chest.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey, sorry I'm late," you call out to Yumi as she comes out her front door. Her smile looks a little tight as you run around the front of the Jeep to tear open the passenger-side door for her.<br/>
<br/>
"So where are you taking me?" she asks when you're back inside the Jeep.<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>said</i> I'm sorry I'm late," you repeat as you twist the key in the ignition.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say I was mad!" she protests. "Anyway, you texted me. What were you doing outside of town?"<br/>
<br/>
"Killing time. Getting lost. Fuck." You dig at your scalp, which has broken out in a violent itch. "I didn't know I was also supposed to be planning where we were gonna go."<br/>
<br/>
"You're stressing out, Gary," Yumi says.<br/>
<br/>
You feel the glare on your face as you wheel on her. She's smiling gravely at you, and you force yourself to relax. "What do you think you've got to be stressed out about?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," you admit with a deep sigh. "Or, you tell me. Do I got something to be stressed out about? I didn't wanna be late."<br/>
<br/>
"Stress yourself out all you want, Gary," she says. She tugs at your coat. "I'll help you work it out. Your stress and all the kinks." She blinks up at you, and bites down on a smile.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow a groan. You're supposed to break up this creature, by tonight if possible. It would be easy enough to work yourself into a surly, ugly rage, the kind that would piss her off for good, and maybe subconsciously that's what you were doing as you cursed and punched the steering wheel on the long, stupid drive back into town.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't want to break off with her, any more than the helplessly whirling, eternally tumbling Moon can break away from the Earth. And as you plunge into her glittering eyes and remember last night, you realize that maybe that's something else you were subconsciously worrying over on that maybe-not-so-pointless drive out of town.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe Chelsea Cooper isn't going to <i>let</i> Yumi Saito break up with the guy that Chelsea has picked out for her.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211111121322131112
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Things That Yumi Can Do With Her Mouth
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>She's kissed Gary Chen once already, so you lean in to kiss Yumi now. She pulls back a little in surprise—you can feel it—then pushes in to take your mouth in hers.<br/>
<br/>
You don't linger—you just wanted to close down that awful conversation. "Where do <i>you</i> want to go? Do?" you ask when you break it off.<br/>
<br/>
She smiles. "I'm glad you're asking. I did have an idea."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It doesn't seem like such a great idea at first. She wants to go to Panera and get a couple of sandwiches, a salad, and some cookies and coffee to go; but your blood quickens when she says she wants to take it all out to the river. That's where people go to make out.<br/>
<br/>
It's a Sunday, and dusk is settling in, so there's not many people to see you and not much light to see you by as you prowl along the flat bank until you find a narrow spot closed in on either side by some willows. There, in the deepening shadows, you spread out a makeshift picnic by the right-front tire of the Jeep. It's chilly, so you eat quickly while slurping down the hot coffee.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you like to talk?" Yumi asks between heaping forkfuls of her salad. "My old—" She stumbles and stops. "My old friends," she resumes with a hard stammer. "Like, long-time-ago friends, they said I talked too much."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mind talking," you mumble through a mouthful of sandwich. "When I got something to say."<br/>
<br/>
She rubs your thigh. "You feel better? Not so stressed out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry I was—"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos I'm kind of stressed out too. And I don't want to pile my stress on top of yours."<br/>
<br/>
"What've <i>you</i> got to be stressed out about?" you ask. <i>Other than the fact that you got violently body-swapped with a girl you can't stand.</i><br/>
<br/>
She groans. "Stupid cheerleader stuff. You know I'm on the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah!"<br/>
<br/>
It's so dark now that when she gives you a quick glance you can't make out her expression. "Well," she says, "there's just so much stupid stuff on the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" Anything she says, you figure, will interest the other guys, particularly Fairfax.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't mind listening?"<br/>
<br/>
You drop an arm around her shoulders and pull her close. "You tell me who you got problems with, and I'll kick their asses."<br/>
<br/>
You expect a squeal or a giggle, but Yumi says nothing. Instead, she says, "It's my friends, if you can believe it. My so-called friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're not interested."<br/>
<br/>
"No, go on," you tell her, even though as Jenny Ashton you have probably heard it before.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," she says, "but only 'cos you asked. And only 'cos I've got to get it off my chest. I promise I won't bother you with it ever again. But it's like I've got to get clear on it myself, you know, before I explain it to, well, <i>other</i> people."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Like what other people?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
She starts by telling you that she's had this problem with the head cheerleader <i>forever,</i> but she doesn't spend a lot of time complaining about Chelsea Cooper, or in detailing her crimes. No, it turns out that the <i>real</i> criminals are those "so-called friends" she mentioned. Cindy Vredenburg. Eva and Jessica Garner. Lin Pol.<br/>
<br/>
She's a little vague on what those crimes are, other than a lack of enthusiasm for actually doing anything about Chelsea. Cindy, she explains, is just using the others as pawns in a vicious game of persecution against Chelsea, and isn't at all interested in fielding a better squad or even in getting rid of Chelsea (because then she wouldn't have Chelsea to persecute anymore). Eva and Jessica are only on the squad because Kelsey Blankenship bullied them into trying out and then abandoned them when she quit at the start of the year. And she criticizes Lin for constantly bitching about the squad, but she never supports Yumi when Yumi tries getting the others to actually do anything about Chelsea. Instead, she's just interested in "slutting it up" (Yumi's own words) with guys on the Eastman basketball squad, which is <i>totally disloyal to Westside.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Huh," you say when she's done, and drain the last of your coffee.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, like I said, I promise I won't bug you with it all again."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's alright. I just don't know anything about these things. Doesn't surprise me about your friend Lin, though."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh ... Nothing." Gary, prodded by his mom, once asked Lin out. She more or less told him she'd rather dig maggots out of a corpse and eat them by the mouthful than go on a date with him.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi studies you for a long minute. Then she starts putting things away, still without speaking. You watch her a moment, then say, "You wanna go someplace else? It's getting kind of cold."<br/>
<br/>
"We're fine where we are," she says. "I wanted to come out here, remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't you cold?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine." She finishes packing the empty boxes and papers into the carryout sack, then turns back to you. "Did you bring any condoms?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're trying very hard not to make any noise, trying very hard not to gulp and lap at the air as you gobble it down in great draughts, like a guppy. You grab at the darkness overhead, your fingers closing on and twisting at nothingness. The sinews of your thighs and calves and lower back strain and twitch.<br/>
<br/>
Because Yumi Saito has your cock inside her mouth.<br/>
<br/>
No, you didn't bring any condoms, you told her in a cracked voice. You didn't know you were supposed to. She explained that this was your third date—counting yesterday afternoon and yesterday evening as two distinct dates—and what was traditional on third dates? Well, it wasn't to be helped if you didn't have condoms. She put her palm on your crotch and said, <i>We'll just take turns.</i><br/>
<br/>
She unzipped you and took out little Gary and nosed at him encouragingly until he'd shown enough of himself that she could start running a tongue up the underside of his shaft. She started with only the tip of her tongue, then worked up to using the full surface; she coiled and twisted it about your member, and when it was straining like a tethered rocket she slid her full mouth down around it.<br/>
<br/>
Unsure of the etiquette—because it turns out that Gary has only a little more experience with these things than Will Prescott does—you held back as best you could. But when she touches the side of your cock with one of her tonsils (it feels like) you almost rocket off the ground. "Uh, Yumi," you croak. She doesn't answer, but grabs hold of the back of your calves and grips hard. A silent scream, like an ultrasonic train whistle, bursts from your throat as something else bursts out lower down.<br/>
<br/>
You sag when it's over, but she keep sucking at it, like it's a straw and she's slurping out the dregs of a thick milkshake. Then she sits up, audibly swallows, and hops up to straddle your lap and put her face close to yours. "I'd kiss you," she says, "but it might gross you out."<br/>
<br/>
But you kiss her anyway, and you cuddle and pull each other tight to murmur and coo in each other's ears and mouths. When you've recovered a little of your depleted strength, she sits up against the Jeep, pulls her jeans down from off her hips, and lets you root around her bush with nose and tongue.<br/>
<br/>
Your phone dings a couple of times while you're so occupied, but of course you ignore it until after you're cuddled up close with her afterward, your arms around each other. You sniff and smooch at her hair while she presses her face into your neck. When you catch the glow of her cell phone from down near your crotch, though, you take advantage of her distraction to pull out your own phone to check texts. Two are from David Kirkham, Chen's best bud (and another lowlife thug) and a third is from Austin Dougherty, an email blast to everyone on the soccer team with a YouTube link.<br/>
<br/>
But a fourth is from Maria Vasquez. "Shit," you mutter, and shut off your phone before Yumi can look up to glimpse the screen. "Fuck."<br/>
<br/>
She raises her head. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Text from my mom," you improvise.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have to go?" she asks in a small voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty soon. My granddad's doing bad." You've already told her enough about the old cripple that she doesn't ask for details.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, she whispers a four-digit number in your ear. "What's that?" you ask. She repeats it, then gives you a little-girl smile. <br/>
<br/>
"It's my locker number," she squeaks. "So you can come find me between classes. I'll have a copy of my schedule for you tomorrow," she adds as she gets to her feet. "So you can walk me between classes."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, fuck,</i> you cuss to yourself as your heart sinks. <i>She really does want me for a boyfriend!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You walk her to the door when you drop her off, and give her a long, lingering look before going in for a chaste kiss, so she'll know that you want to give her more and harder. (And longer and deeper.) Afterward, in your Jeep, you toss off a quick reply to Maria, who wants to know what time you'll be by the storage complex to switch back: <i>not tnite,</i> you tell her. <i>talk tmrow lots t say.</i> To her follow-up <i>?????</i> you give a stony silence.<br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile, Kirkham is asking if you want to spend the night at his place. It's a friendly gesture that he sometimes extends, as he too knows about the crippled, senile grandfather that dominates the Chen household. Beyond having a friendlier place to crash, a night at Kirkham's would give you a chance to gloat about Yumi.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111111213221311121
author_id: seuzz
title: It's Like Marking Your Territory
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You text Chen's mom to tell her you'll be spending the night with David Kirkham. And because that's something Chen often does, you send the Jeep spinning off to his place without waiting for permission.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Fuck you, man, you didn't."<br/>
<br/>
Those are the first words out of Kirkham's mouth when you shove in through his door. You give him a long, slow wink as you strut past, and a sharkish smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Wasn't even my idea," you brag as you head for his kitchen. "I mean, sure, it was. But I didn't even have time to suggest it. Almost the first thing out of her mouth was, 'D'ju bring the condoms'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Psh!"<br/>
<br/>
You yank the refrigerator open and study its guts. They're between leftovers, it looks like, so you grab an apple from the crisper. Well, fuck it, it's better for you anyway than the casserole-like dishes his (single) mother typically leaves for him and his little brother.<br/>
<br/>
"We went out to Panera—" you start.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!" Kirkham sniggers.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, I let her pick, it put her in a good mood. She had rabbit food and I had a sandwich and then we went out to the river. Had it to ourselves. So when she pulled down my pants and blew me, there wasn't no—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, psh!" Kirkham flings his hands at you. "If you're gonna fuckin' lie, man, either make it good or make it believable!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, it was good, motherfucker, it—"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin' penetration." He jams a stiff index finger into a closed fist. "Penetration or it don't count."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, it counts—"<br/>
<br/>
"An' I don't believe it either. Shit. Yumi Saito? You've sucked at least twice as much cock as she has."<br/>
<br/>
You freeze, the apple almost to your mouth, and coldly calculate the likely ramifications of hurling it into his face. He might take it and just curse you back. But he might also throw himself onto you.<br/>
<br/>
You settle for taking a hard bite while daunting him with your gaze. "Well, then, I guess I'm the first stud she ever blew," you tell Kirkham in your quietest voice. "'Cos I ain't never sucked cock."<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces at the floor, and kicks at it. "Still, if that's all you did," he sneers.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I gave her some back with interest. We spent—"<br/>
<br/>
"Queer!"<br/>
<br/>
You cock your head. "The fuck is queer about putting my tongue up her cunny?" He shrugs. "Look, if you don't want me braggin' about it, wha'd you ask me out here to spend the night for? You knew I was gonna—"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you was gonna come crying to me," he says. "About how she kept her coat on, her knees together, and her lips glued shut."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, thanks for trying to be a pal. No, fuck you! Or fuckin' try the other play, motherfucker, the fuckin' play where you're fuckin' happy your fuckin' friend fuckin' nailed a fuckin' cheerleader!"<br/>
<br/>
He rolls his eyes. "'Cept if it was a blow job, then you didn't <i>nail</i> her. Technically."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, eat a dick. Here, eat <i>my</i> dick." You yank down your zipper. "You don't believe me?" you continue as you root around in your underwear. "Suck me off, you can probably still taste her lip gloss on my cock."<br/>
<br/>
He looks away and kicks at the floor some more. "Put it away, man," he says as you flap Gary Chen's dick at him. "I believe you. And fuck it, yeah, I'm happy for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks." You tuck yourself back in. "I'll see if—"<br/>
<br/>
You break off as he treads up up to you, and throws his arms around you in a manly hug. You stiffen—Gary Chen is no more of a hugger than you are—then clap him on the back a couple of times.<br/>
<br/>
But Kirkham tightens his hold on you. He forces you back a couple of steps. Alarm bells start to go off in your head as he pushes you up against the counter.<br/>
<br/>
Then he hikes himself up, hanging off your shoulder, and looks into your face. His lips part.<br/>
<br/>
And slowly, he searches for your mouth with his.<br/>
<br/>
He's able, leech-like, to suck one slimy kiss off your cheekbone before you succeed in hurling him off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chen's homework is all done, so it doesn't matter that it's back at his house. You camp out in Kirkham's bedroom, talking dirty and looking at porn on his computer and spinning up elaborate fantasies about which other cheerleaders you and he would like to take and how you would take them.<br/>
<br/>
In other words, not much different from the stuff you and Caleb would do together, only with a heavier threat of violence behind it.<br/>
<br/>
David Kirkham, like Gary Chen, is on the small side, and like Chen he makes up in compact muscle and quick, hard reflexes what he lacks in height and mass. The two have been friends since middle-school, when each of them (being small for their ages even back then) found themselves on the end of some bullying. Both bonded over it, and over their joint determination to stop the bullying on their own terms; and both of them now prowl Westside High with a reputation for hair-trigger tempers and a near-lethal capacity to inflict pain. <br/>
<br/>
Several times during the night you catch yourself eyeing him sidelong, and wondering what his reaction would be if he knew that his best friend, under a disguise, is the kind of rabbitty cuck they both despise.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Kirkham's in the shower when you wake the next morning. You quickly heave yourself out of the sleeping bag and shove yourself inside your old clothes, texting him that you'll see him at school. You stop off at home first—only long enough to get your books—then grab a donut and some coffee as you race to Westside.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi isn't at her locker when you arrive, and after loitering nervously there you text to see where she is. But she doesn't reply before the first bell, and your nerves are jangling with alarm as you head to English. When that class is over, you practically fly out to the gym to look for her.<br/>
<br/>
She comes out alone, trailing Kendra Saunders and Gloria Rea. There's a puffiness about her eyes, and when she sees you she does a double take. You think for a moment that she's about to pass you by. Instead, after a tiny hesitation, she flings herself at you, embracing you in a tight hug. You hug her back.<br/>
<br/>
As you hold her, you get to look Jessica and Eva Garner and Maria Vasquez squarely in the face as they stride out. They give you brief, flickering glances before turning with grimly set mouths toward the main building.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi lifts her head to gaze at you. "What lunch did you say you have?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fourth."<br/>
<br/>
She bites her lip. "Can you skip fifth? I don't feel like eating with my friends today."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't have much to say, though, when you hook up with her then. She just curls up very close and holds you. But she does insist on eating out on the front quad where everyone can see you together, including Jessica Garner, who is eating with Jenny Ashton and her gang. They ignore you, though, and you ignore them. You and Yumi walk together to math class; part for seventh; then reconnect in Orchestra, where it's Eva Garner's turn to ignore you, even though she and you and Yumi are all in the viola section.<br/>
<br/>
Never do you let Yumi see your phone, and the text from Maria Vasquez, requesting that you meet her and the others up at the storage complex after school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"How the fuck can you eat so much without getting fat?" Jessica Garner sneers.<br/>
<br/>
You shove another forkful of fried rice into your mouth. "How the fuck can you suck down so much cum without spewing up?" you retort. "I'm askin' you, Montoya, not Jessica." <br/>
<br/>
She shows you her teeth.<br/>
<br/>
You were late to the meeting because you stopped by Chen's aunt's restaurant for takeout, which you're wolfing down now. But Maria is late too, so it's you and the Garner girls hissing at each other until she arrives. Jessica and Eva don't question the evolution of your plans, but Maria does, as soon as she steps in the door. "When will you be ready to switch out of Gary's mask?" she asks without preamble.<br/>
<br/>
"Not," you reply. "I'm'a stay here. Best for everyone."<br/>
<br/>
Startled looks from Eva and Jessica. Maria says, "Not for Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes for Yumi." You look up at her from under your brows.<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
You set the box of rice down on the desk. "Because I been talkin' to her, you know, between blow jobs," you explain, "and this is our best play. Dunno if it's Chelsea's personality or if she's got a plan, but it's pretty clear she <i>wants</i> to go out with a dangerous guy. She came on to Chen <i>because</i> he's dangerous. And if he breaks up with her, she'll just latch onto some'n else. Latch onto Kirkham, onto Mendoza, maybe onto Josh Call if she really wants a psycho for a boyfriend. <br/>
<br/>
"And what then?" You give each girl a long look in turn. "Do we turn ourselves into the new fuckers, break <i>them</i> up with her? Go down the line like a bunch of assholes? Uh-uh." You pick the box of rice back up and fluff it with your fork. "Simplest that I stick to her ass as Chen. Don't worry, I'll treat her right. Her <i>and</i> her ass," you add as you jam another forkful of rice into your mouth.<br/>
<br/>
You munch and gulp into the ensuing silence. Then Maria says, softly, "I bet she'd rather date Gordon instead."<br/>
<br/>
"Whazzat s'posed to mean?" you shoot back.<br/>
<br/>
She smiles in a way that gives you a chill.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, if she's going to date a 'dangerous guy'—and Gordon's plenty dangerous—she'd probably rather it be her old boyfriend. She'd drop you in a nanosecond for Gordon, Gary. And Will, wouldn't you rather be the captain of the basketball team? The team that's going to State this year?"</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111112132213111212
author_id: seuzz
title: Protecting Your Interests
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You feel yourself bristling all over.<br/>
<br/>
"No, we leave it like this," you tell Maria. "It's all set up. We start changing players— Besides," you interrupt yourself. "I'nt this whole 'sociology' bullshit about seein' what Chelsea and Yumi do? You seen what Chelsea done, where she's landed, what she's doin'. I switch into Gordon, try pickin' her up off'a Gary, that's us interferin'. <i>P-kchow!</i> There goes your sociology experiment."<br/>
<br/>
"We're already interfering," Jessica says, "by putting you in for Gary."<br/>
<br/>
"You put me in to watch her from up close," you retort. "Okay, you also put me in to make sure Chelsea don't get hurt. But that's not interferin', 'cos Gary wouldn't hurt her. Not on purpose."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah," Jessica sneers. "He's a real teddy bear."<br/>
<br/>
You swagger up close to her. <br/>
<br/>
"Send these other cunts and cucks away," you murmur at her, "an' I'll show you just how gentle he can be." <br/>
<br/>
She shoves you with a stifled cry, and you step back with a chuckle.<br/>
<br/>
"Much as I don't like admitting it," Maria says, "Will is right. The plan is to watch what Yumi and Chelsea do, and only try to anticipate the fallout."<br/>
<br/>
"Great," you interrupt. "So we're all on the same page. Can I go now? I got work."<br/>
<br/>
Maria blinks in surprise. "Work?" she says, and blinks again. You feel your lip curl.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I won't keep you," she says. "Before you go, can you at least tell us how Chelsea reacted to today's developments?"<br/>
<br/>
"What developments?"<br/>
<br/>
"Weren't you glued to her all day?" Eva jeers.<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't talk, not about 'developments'. Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm." Maria presses her lips together. "Yumi— Chelsea— Whatever you want to call her, the captain of the cheerleader squad did some reorganizing today," she says. "She called us in early, before school started, for a squad meeting in the changing rooms, then we had an all-hands meeting during practice."<br/>
<br/>
"And?" You spin an index finger at her, to speed her up.<br/>
<br/>
"She named Cindy co-captain of the squad. Jessica and Eva have been tasked with developing new routines, and Lin is to head up a 'spirit' initiative to give the squad more visibility in the school. And Kendra tells me—" A shadow clouds Maria's face. "Kendra tells me that 'Chelsea' is going to get Michelle fired from the squad before the end of the week."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Indeed. So you see why we want to know how, uh, 'Yumi' is taking the developments."<br/>
<br/>
"We put you in there to observe, Will," Jessica says.<br/>
<br/>
"She didn't say nothing to me about any of this," you tell the girls. "That's what I observed. So did, uh, Chelsea give Yumi any new stuff to do, like she did for the rest of you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. She hardly even looked at Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Well, I can only tell you that, uh, Yumi was in the dumps all day. She clung to me all through lunch like—" <i>Like I was a life preserver floating in the ocean after a wreck.</i> "Well, I don't think she was happy. I can tell you that Sunday night, on our date, she was bad-mouthing the lot of you. Eva and Jessica, Lin, Cindy. You're all cunts and whore in her book. But you already know she's talking about you that way behind your backs, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Maria purses her lips and nods. But she doesn't comment. "I'll let you go if you've got work," she says. "But keep us posted on Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing." You scoop up the unfinished box of rice but leave the rest of the garbage on the studio desk. "I'll give you the blow by blow on every blow job."<br/>
<br/>
"Only what's relevant!" Maria shouts as you swagger out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're not actually due for work for a couple of hours, so you drive out to a Mickey Dee's, where you buy a small cola and camp out in the back to do homework. It winds up being a tight fit, time-wise, and if you'll have to check the math homework in the morning, but you get it polished off fast enough that you're not late for your job.<br/>
<br/>
It's at the country club.<br/>
<br/>
Where Chen is a bus boy.<br/>
<br/>
So all night you're scuttling through the dining room, cleaning up after the assholes who come out to dine and to be seen to dine, and to be seen to be the kind of people who can afford to dine at the country club. There's no prices on the menu—it's all covered in the membership fees—but you'd wager the invisible prices are twice or maybe even ten times what the best restaurants in town would charge.<br/>
<br/>
You're dead on your feet by the time you get done, for in addition to bussing duties you have to stay after ten to help clean up and close out the dining room. You drag yourself home, where you change into p-jays, brush and floss and waterpick your teeth, then tumble into bed. It's a fold-out bed in the living room, because it's a two-bedroom house in a lower-middle-class neighborhood, and the crippled old man gets the other bedroom. But you're out like a shot as soon as your head hits the pillow.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The old man is screaming as you finish making your breakfast—scrambled eggs and Canadian bacon piled up between two pieces of toast—but your mom and dad will take care of him. Instead you concentrate on your phone. There's a text from Dwayne Macaulay, saying that he'll be sending your Halloween costume over a day early, and one from George Mendoza asking if you've got any extra pencils he can borrow. Both are coded references to the weed that Chen deals at Westside.<br/>
<br/>
But the fun text is from Yumi. She wants to know if you can pick her up.<br/>
<br/>
She wasn't happy when you parted with her yesterday. <i>I got work,</i> you told her, but she pointed out that you didn't have to be there until after supper. You said you had to run some errands first and she pouted hard—and not in a cute way—when you told her that she couldn't come along. <i>I got business to take care of, babe,</i> you told her. <i>You don't wanna be there.<br/>
<br/>
You think I'll be in the way.<br/>
<br/>
No. But what if some cops stopped by? You don't wanna be there, and I ain't gonna let you be there.</i><br/>
<br/>
She pulled you close and rubbed her hands all up and down your back. <i>I wouldn't let them arrest my Pooh Bear.<br/>
<br/>
Don't you ever fucking call me that again.</i><br/>
<br/>
And that's where you left her. Gasping.<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't look real happy as she comes trotting out her door when you pull up. Maybe it's on account of the weather, which is cloudy and blustery with occasional bursts of grumbling thunder; the wind jerks at the umbrella she's raised against the sky. But she does smile at you as she gets in the car. "Hey," she says, and tosses her head. It's an odd gesture, as her hair is cut into a short bob and hasn't the body to bounce. Maybe it's a holdover from the days when she had great heaping curls of blonde stuff tumbling about her shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you reply, and cup her chin to pull her close for a smooch. "I'm sorry I had to run out on you yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"You had business," she says primly.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have business today. 'Cept'a do stuff with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" Her smile turns beguiling.<br/>
<br/>
You gun the engine and shoot back into the street. <br/>
<br/>
"Whatever. Go shopping again? Go out to the river again? Do ... something we not done yet?" You take your eyes off the road long enough to rake them up her legs. She's wearing black tights under a short skirt, showing firm, shapely thighs and calves. <i>God, what you'd give to have those gripped tightly around your waist as you press and punch the orgasmic screams from her back-thrown head and gaping mouth ...</i> "We could stop by the drugstore after school. Or before."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm hmm." Her smile is tight, but her eyes glint. She wraps a hand around your bicep. "Let's see how I'm feeling at the end of the day."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The morning is a repeat of yesterday. You meet her at the gym after first period for a hard grope and a kiss as she leaves cheerleader practice and you go in for soccer. Before lunch, you walk her from her Chemistry to AP German. Then you meet George Mendoza in the library, where you pass him half your remaining baggies of weed for a sale he's set up. He joins you afterward behind the music wing, where you eat lunch, smoke cigarettes, and bitch about school with a couple of other guys.<br/>
<br/>
You meet up with Yumi again at the end of fourth, and she tries talking you into skipping fifth to eat with her again; she groans when you tell her that you can't, and pulls you to herself. Her kiss almost destroys your willpower, but you rally, though you have to insist that she go off to the cafeteria without you; if you go with her, you know you'll wind up staying. After parting, you duck into a boys' restroom, where you stand with your cock in a urinal until the erection passes.<br/>
<br/>
You're washing up at a sink and touching up your appearance—Chen likes to have his ski cap arranged <i>just so</i> with <i>exactly these</i> little blade-like spikes of hair jutting out <i>just this far</i> and <i> no further</i>—when the door bangs back and a couple of bruisers breeze in.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck.</i><br/>
<br/>
You do your best to ignore them—what've you got to fear from them?—but you stiffen all over as Ryan Shuler, Matt Nichols, Dylan Lloyd, and Scott Frazier of the basketball squad crowd in. The laugh and jeer hoarsely at the urinals, and chase a couple of sophomores off with loud curses. You watch them over your shoulder in the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
You could take off before they're finished. You got time, and you're basically done fixing up your don't-fuck-with-me look for the rest of the day. You don't have to wait for them to jostle up to you at the sinks.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211111121322131112122
author_id: seuzz
title: Bullying the Bullies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Yeah, you could run. That would be simplest.<br/>
<br/>
You could also promise to give them all blows job if they leave you alone. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, fuck that.</i> You keep your place at the sink.<br/>
<br/>
They're chortling about something—probably sex—and their voices bounce harshly off the tiled walls. <i>If she tried that—Mofo!—Yeah, but dude, when I was out at Catherine's this one time—Get Shawn to tell you 'bout—Shee-it, I bet if you patted her down you'd—</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hey hey hey, guys!" Dylan Lloyd's shout rises over the others'. He's standing close enough to brush your arm with his as he works at his sink. "Guys! Shh! Listen! Hey, shut the fuck up! Listen!" The others fall silent, one by one. <br/>
<br/>
"You hear that?" Lloyd says. Out of the corner of your eye you see him raise a finger, and you glimpse his grin in the mirror. The blood rushes into your ears in anticipation of trouble. "It's water dripping in the sink next to me," he says.<br/>
<br/>
No, your faucet is shut tight. You feel yourself stiffen all over.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Dylan says. His grin widens. "It's dripping. It's going—" He pauses for effect. "It's going, 'gook' ... 'gook' ... 'gook' ..."<br/>
<br/>
At least the others are smart enough not to laugh. Fuck, they're smart enough to freeze solid. You can almost hear their bowels loosening.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it's on account of they can hear something else—the sound of your hair bristling and the blood boiling up your neck.<br/>
<br/>
Iron enters your arm and your hand. You grip Lloyd by the shoulder, pulling him around to face you. His jaw tightens. Then he smirks down into your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Portables," you tell him. "Now."<br/>
<br/>
You see just the tiniest flicker in his eye, a crack through which shines a splinter of fear. Then his smirk widens.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, you hear this, guys?" he chortles over his shoulder. "He wants to suck me off behind the school." He crosses his arms and tilts his chin at you.<br/>
<br/>
You hold his eye, then push your way past and through the knot of his friends. A snicker rolls through them.<br/>
<br/>
But at the door you look back.<br/>
<br/>
"Now, cocksucker, portables, or I come find you at practice. We do it at the portables or we do it in the gym, middle of the court, with all your friends watching."<br/>
<br/>
You can sense the ripple that runs through the quartet, but you don't wait for an answer. You tear open the restroom door and pass into the hall.<br/>
<br/>
You wait there, like a spike in the middle of the stream, and you don't have to wait long before the door opens again. You glare back at Lloyd, who stops to blink once at you. Then his lip curls, and he throws his hands up in a shrug.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Good,</i> you think as you swagger off toward the nearest door outside. You would go find him at practice, if the chicken-shit tried weaseling out. But you know how that would end, with Black and Patterson yanking you off him before you could do him any hurt. It would be humiliating.<br/>
<br/>
But it would be more humiliating for Lloyd to duck your challenge. You were counting on him figuring that.<br/>
<br/>
At the exit, you blow one of the double-doors open with a kick.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you're in good shape for a fight like this. His three friends are following too, and if you know these assholes, they're going to try to take you four-to-one.<br/>
<br/>
Which means you've got to get in the first blow. <i>Four</i> first blows. Blows so hard that maybe you won't need to follow any of them up.<br/>
<br/>
The ratty old portables—abandoned long before you were even a freshman—sag in a U-shaped formation out by the Agricultural Annex. You lead Lloyd and the others into the bowl of the formation, past the knots of sophomores and juniors eating there. You make like you're aiming to go out past the portables to the other side, where you'll be screened from view, but you slow up just after you pass the last of the underclassmen, and when one of them guffaws at something, you glance back long enough to judge the distance between you and Lloyd.<br/>
<br/>
He's just close enough, you judge.<br/>
<br/>
You hop, whirl, and crack his knee with a hard kick. He cries out and stumbles. You grab him as he falls, hurling him away and propelling yourself at Frazier, plunging a hard fist into his gut. Nichols comes at you, arms wide, but you kick him balls like you're trying to make a field goal. <br/>
<br/>
That leaves Shuler, the meanest and meatiest of the bunch, but he's frozen on his feet, and Lloyd comes back up at you first. You knock him in the side of the head with your elbow, then bend double and throw yourself into Shuler. Down you go in a heap, but you twist off him like a scalded cat while he's still scrambling in the grass. Frazier, bent double, stumbles up at you you. You knee him the face, then twist around to kick Shuler savagely in the gut as he tries getting up.<br/>
<br/>
Dylan Lloyd, crouching double and nursing the side of his head, is the last one still on his feet. He gapes at you. Your lips peel back as you grab his face with one hand and dent the wall of a portable with the back of his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Whadda you hear now, motherfucker?" you hiss at him, and batter him into the wall again. "You still hear something making a funny noise? A dripping noise? You sure it ain't the sound of you shitting your own shor—?"<br/>
<br/>
He grabs at you, but he's sloppy, and you only have to knee him once in the groin for him to go slack.<br/>
<br/>
And as he sags, you bunch a fist and punch him in the side of the head. The jar of the blow instantly numbs your arm from knuckle to shoulder, but Lloyd flops to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
You wheel around, fists at the ready.<br/>
<br/>
But you've put them all down, all four, Lloyd and Frazier and Nichols and Shuler, and the undergraduates, who have scrambled to their feet, only hunch in a semicircle, staring at you with their mouths hanging open. But you got no beef with them, so you straighten up, shake your shoulders loose and—trying to ignore the burning agony in your right arm—swagger out through the crowd with a hard, tight scowl.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You pass the rest of the day feeling like you're hopped up on speed, your nerves vibrating like plucked strings. It's not fear. You're not worried about those assholes you thrashed, and you're not worried that any of their friends will come looking for you. If anything, Black and Patterson and the other guys will tell them that if one asshole was able to thrash all four of them, then they deserved to get their asses thrashed. Nor are you worried about getting called in by the administration. Lloyd and them won't run to complain—they'd have to confess to how they provoked you, and in your experience the school is a lot more sensitive to "bias incidents" than they are to actual punching and eye-gouging. <br/>
<br/>
It's adrenaline, you finally realize, that's got you hopped up so hard. This was your—Chen's—first big fight of the year, and you're exhilarated at coming through it so well. Your arm hurts bad enough that you worry that you damaged it with that haymaker, but that was the only price you paid for laying out four big guys on the ground.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi hasn't got anything to say to you during math class—she only makes shy little cooing noise when you meet up for her—but she's pink with excitement when she sees you in Orchestra, and she runs up to grab you by the jacket. "Are you alright?" she gasps, and flushes hard.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"I heard you got in a fight!"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Who with?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Coupla guys."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Who?"</i><br/>
<br/>
You shrug again and roll your tongue in your cheek. It tickles you that you get to brag to her, but it's way more awesome to play it cool. "Some assholes on the basketball squad. Lloyd, Nichols, Shuler. Frazier."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!" She grips you hard. "Gordon used to tell me—!" She catches herself. "Those are like the worst guys on the squad!"<br/>
<br/>
Again you shrug. "Yeah, maybe. So you heard about that?" Your lips twitch into a smirk. "You worry about me?"<br/>
<br/>
She crushes you in her arms and buries her face in your neck.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She is very quiet—shy, even—when class is over, and clings close as you walk together from the Orchestra room to her locker, and from your locker out to the parking lot. She only hugs you tighter when you ask what she wants to do next. With no other guidance, you steer for her house.<br/>
<br/>
You're passing a strip center when she pokes you in the thigh and says, "Stop here, okay?" She points to the Walgreens.<br/>
<br/>
"What, you need something?"<br/>
<br/>
Dimples pop into her cheeks. "Prophylactics, silly."<br/>
<br/>
From your toes to your hairline, every part of your body feels like it's caught an express elevator to a very high penthouse.<br/>
<br/>
After you've gone in and come back out again, you ask where she wants to go.<br/>
<br/>
She tugs her nose and says, "Do you know a good place?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I've never been to the Donna."<br/>
<br/>
The name gives you a quick, hard jolt. It's a sleazy motel on the south side of town, where people go to ... use prophylactics. <br/>
<br/>
And rumor has it that it's owned by the family of the class president, who is one of Yumi's—the real Yumi's—good friends.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111111213221311121221
author_id: seuzz
title: Doing It at the Donna
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You know where the Donna is?" Yumi asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" You're feeling distracted. "Oh, yeah, sure."<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos you didn't answer me." She walks her fingers up your leg.<br/>
<br/>
"I, uh, was trying to remember where it is."<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm." She drags a fingernail lightly across your thigh. "South Twentieth," she says. "There's a sign out front so you can't miss it."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and don't argue any further.<br/>
<br/>
Because Gary Chen wouldn't argue with Yumi Saito about checking in for the afternoon at the Donna, even at the risk of running into Kim Walsh.<br/>
<br/>
Hell, Gary Chen would probably dig it if Kim saw him and Yumi checking into her family's sleazy motel for the afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
And you're Gary Chen.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The Donna Motor Court is a dump, almost a dive. The low-slung motel half-encloses a barren asphalt parking lot with a closed-up swimming pool, and its cinder-block units have all the charm and character of the storage units at Top S(h)elf. It was probably a cheap place even back when it was built, before the interstate went through on the other side of town. Now, gray and weather-spotted, it only survives by catering to a different kind of traffic and clientele.<br/>
<br/>
There's a cop behind the front desk when you go in. At least, you have to assume he's an ex-cop: burly and barrel-chested, with a dome skull that's shaved and scared, and a gristly moustache that's passing through gray on its way to white. His gray eyes glint like steel.<br/>
<br/>
"Afternoon, sport," he says—almost shouts. "What can you do me for?"<br/>
<br/>
Almost you turn on your heel; you hate cops that much. "You got a room you can rent me?" you grind out at him.<br/>
<br/>
"We got rooms, we got ice, we got a soda machine even. We got a diner down the street if you're feeling peckish," he barks. "And it can all be yours for four-eighty a night," he adds.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jesus!</i> You suck in a cheek. "I'll be right back." The fucker follows you with his eyes and a grin as you slink out.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker wants five hundred dollars," you tell Yumi out in the Jeep.<br/>
<br/>
"It's prorated by the hour, Gary," she sighs. "Twenty dollars an hour. We check out early and they refund the balance."<br/>
<br/>
How does she know all this? Not even Chen knows that. "You have a credit card?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>What?</i> No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I don't—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you have that kind of cash?"<br/>
<br/>
You give her a look. "Not here, not on me. I'd have to go get some." She stares at you. You hesitate, then give it to her bluntly. "Go wait in the office while I go get it. I'll be back in thirty minutes."<br/>
<br/>
Still she stares at you. Then—stiffly, frigidly—she gets out of the Jeep. You follow her back into the office. "My, uh, friend's going to wait here while I go find an ATM," you tell the cop.<br/>
<br/>
"We take debit cards," he says. His face is a mask, except for the satirical twinkle in his eye. You return him a brief glower, and stalk back out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You expect Yumi to be frosty when you return an hour later with twenty-four twenty-dollar bills, but she's actually quite relaxed and merry. Still, you feel the need to give her an excuse as you lead her to the room. "I had to go see my banker," you explain. "He wouldn't like it if someone else came along."<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay." She nuzzles the side of your face. "I talked to Kim while I was waiting."<br/>
<br/>
"Kim?" You stiffen. "Is she here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm-hmm. She was in a back office or something, studying. Turns out her family owns this place." She titters. "Can you imagine?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really," you admit. "Was that her dad?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, just a guy who works for them. She introduced us, but I don't remember his name."<br/>
<br/>
The room is at the far corner of the lot, and when you open the door, a musty odor washes out. But it's a clean kind of must, as of a room that was vacuumed and scrubbed and then shut up for a very long time.<br/>
<br/>
There's a double-size bed with a lime-green coverlet, and a small table flanked by two chairs. A cheap flat-screen TV hangs on a wall, maybe as an enticement to linger and run up the bill.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi hops onto the bed and splays herself out on it, grinning at you from between her knees. "You know what I want to pretend?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"That we're up at the school. That there's a secret room up at the school like this one, that's hidden away, and that we found it, and that you took me up into it to—" She sucks in her lower lip and lifts her hips from the coverlet. "We could get in a lot of trouble if they heard us, Gary," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, they're gonna hear us," you promise as you push yourself between her knees and balance yourself over her. "They're gonna hear <i>you.</i>" She sucks harder on her lower lip and lifts her hips again to touch your crotch with hers.<br/>
<br/>
You throw off your jacket and peel off your shirt while she works at your belt buckle. You rub and stroke the side of her hip before searching out the zipper to her skirt, but she grabs your hand and forces it up under to touch the front of her stockings and panties.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God," she moans. "Is it soaked through? I am so hot, Gary, so wet." You peel back the top of her stockings and push your fingers in. Her bush is damp. She arches her back as you plunge your fingers inside her.<br/>
<br/>
There's a tangle of limb—almost a wrestling match—as the two of you fight to peel the stockings off her and the pants off you. You pull open her blouse, and lift and hold her with one arm as with your free hand you frantically search out the stays of her bra; she titters and giggles into your neck as you wrench and pry without success. Eventually you get it loose and hurl it away. Her breasts, fat and firm like grapefruit, pop out. You goggle at them, then lower face between them, to rub and kiss and caress with your tongue. Down below, your cock—self-sculpted into a bone-hard shaft—slides up her taut tummy.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
For ten minutes—or is it ten hours?—you kiss and gnaw and bite and thrust at each other. You roll onto your back while Yumi grapples with the box of condoms, and you tamp back the gathering explosion while she rolls one onto you. But you lose it—and loose it—when she goes down to caress your sheathed member with her cheek.<br/>
<br/>
But not even that can slow you down. You throw her onto her back so you can stroke and pinch and bite at her calves and legs before putting your face down into her bush. She groans and pants as you eat her out, and hangs off your torso with her hands and legs when you clamber up to grind your face into the side of hers. By an unspoken agreement you break off awhile to husband your strengths, but you're restless, and pull her to you as you lay on your side, to rub at her gently (as she does you) while you stare past her head at the wall behind and wonder at the implausibility of it all.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm here and this is me, but I'm wearing the skin of Gary Chen, I'm sheathed inside his legs and hips and crotch and face, and I'm doing it as him, I'm Gary Chen who is </i>fucking Yumi Saito<i>, only it isn't Yumi, it's Chelsea Cooper sheathed inside Yumi's face and hips and legs and skin. God, I want to prick her hard and deep, I want to prick her and blow myself into her so hard her skin rips open and Chelsea herself pops out, and then I'll fuck Chelsea so hard it'll rip a tear in Chen's skin and </i>I'll<i> pop out. And then—!</i><br/>
<br/>
Fantasy and desire both waver a little. You and Chelsea in bed together? Things would quickly peter out. You stroke the back of her head and kiss her on the forehead. You wonder what she's thinking about.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually you feel yourself stiffening again, and Yumi slides another condom onto you. This time you roll her over immediately and seek out her nest. She's tight but wet, and she throws her head back as you push in. Up and in you push; down and on you pull her. She throws her legs around your hips and grips. You push and grind, push and grind; she squeaks and squeals. Harder you thrust, ramming yourself home. <i>Fuck, fuck, God, Jesus, fuck, </i>fuck<i> FUCK!</i> There's an overtoppling moment of suspense, and then you are falling into her like a shaft of hard granite into soft and loamy ground. Someone is screaming nearby, and you can't rule out that one of the screamers might be you.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111112132213111212211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Businessman
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're a limp and ragged thing, and you don't want to open your eyes, even after someone starts kissing you on the nose. "You're snoring," the someone says.<br/>
<br/>
"Hnh?"<br/>
<br/>
A giggle. "You were snoring. It was very cute."<br/>
<br/>
<i>'M not cute,</i> you think. Still more muzzily: <i>'M not an airplane, either.</i><br/>
<br/>
The someone grips your thigh and shakes it. "Come on, I'm hungry."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm. I'll feed you. I can feed you." Your mouth feels sticky. "Just let me get it up again."<br/>
<br/>
"Not like that. Please, Gary?" A nose rubs at your throat. "Food? Don't you want to get some of your money back from the motel?"<br/>
<br/>
With a groan you pry open your eyes. Yumi smiles into your face.<br/>
<br/>
You feel like you've run a marathon. You groan and roll over and sit up on the bed. You are completely naked. But Yumi, you find when you glance back at her, is in her bra and panties, with her unbuttoned blouse around her shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
You grunt at her, then turn around, presenting her with your cock. She glances at it and looks away. "You can put that away now," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You slide a knee onto the bed. "Oh, I know where I can put it away."<br/>
<br/>
"No, Gary, come on," she says. "We did that already. I have to get home in a little while, and I want something to eat first so I can tell my mom that's what I was doing. Besides," she adds as you lean forward to loom over her. "I think I need to recuperate."<br/>
<br/>
"Rrmm," you growl. "If you'd help—"<br/>
<br/>
But though there is yet life below, it might need a block and tackle to get it up. Yumi gives you a quick peck on the lips, then scrambles off the bed. "I'll be in the bathroom freshening up," she says. "If you want to nap a little more, you can do that 'til I'm done. Because you might want to, uh—" She gives you another quick glance up and down. "Clean up a little before you get dressed."<br/>
<br/>
She strides into the bathroom and shuts the door behind.<br/>
<br/>
You fall onto the bed and curl up while the water runs. <i>So this is what it's like,</i> you think. <i>Hot juices and hot blood and really hot action, then cold and stiff like old clay. I want a bath.</i><br/>
<br/>
You zone out, staring at the wall, for a little while, then zone out some more while trying to read your phone. When Yumi comes out you stumble into the bathroom where you revive yourself in the shower with a cold blast of water to your crotch, a quick scrub with a washcloth, and another wake-me-up spray to your face. Feeling no cleaner, only a little less crusty, you pad out to find Yumi fully dressed and waiting by the door. You jam yourself inside your clothes, scoop up the box of condoms, and lead her back out to your Jeep.<br/>
<br/>
You should have been quicker in the bathroom, because though you were only there for a little over two hours, the ex-cop charges you for three.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You drive half a block down the street, to the Sunshine Diner, where a dumpy black hostess with braids down her back puts you in a back booth. After she goes, Yumi moves around to your side of the table and pushes in next to you. When the hostess returns with coffee, you order eggs and pancakes; Yumi orders a fruit bowl and a slice of ham.<br/>
<br/>
She's got her forehead in your neck and is looking down at the cell phone she's propped in your lap when a short blonde kid saunters by. He does a double-take at you, nods his head, and passes into the kitchen. You suck on a tooth and wait. A few minutes later, the kid comes back out again and throws himself into the booth across from you. "Jesus, I'm beat," Sean Wilcox says as he turns sideways to put an elbow on the table.<br/>
<br/>
You nod as Yumi raises her head. "You work here, man?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>own</i> it," he retorts. "Well, my family does. I help manage. Jesus." He stretches an arm. "It's my long day, been here since school let out, not supposed to get off until nine." He grunts again. "Got my homework in the back office, you know. But I can't seem to get to it."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you know that Kim Walsh's family owns the Donna down the street?" Yumi says. You can hear the acidic grin in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
Sean nods. "Sure, her dad, John does. Her dad and my dad are old friends." He gives you and Yumi a quick, dead-eyed look as Yumi pulls herself closer to you, but if he makes any inferences, he doesn't show it.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, he says, "I hear you're in the food service business too."<br/>
<br/>
<i>The fuck?</i> "I'm a busboy out at the country club," you correct him.<br/>
<br/>
Sean blinks. "I thought someone told me you waited tables someplace. Huh. Guess I heard wrong. But the country club? Whew, that must be pretty nice. Good tips?"<br/>
<br/>
"No tips, and it sucks." The waitress appears with your food, and you lean back to take your arm from around Yumi. "Buncha mean, rich, uh—" You eyeball the waitress. "Bastards out there."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that sucks." Sean points at your food and tells the waitress, "Bring me the ticket."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to do that," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, give him the ticket," Sean tells the waitress, and flashes you a quick, mirthless smile. "How much they pay you out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Minimum wage."<br/>
<br/>
"Psh! You serious? And at the fucking country club, too. I guess what they say is true, you don't get rich by paying the help." He cranes his neck to look toward the front door. "I gotta go do a few math problems," he says as he slides back onto his feet again. "But come find me in the office before you go, I might have a job offer for you." He saunters back toward the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
"Who was that?" Yumi says. Her tone is coldly neutral.<br/>
<br/>
"Sean Wilcox. Don't you know him from school?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. How do <i>you</i> know him?"<br/>
<br/>
"From school. I know him from around. We were in middle school together."<br/>
<br/>
"He said he had a job offer for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he wants to give me a job out here."<br/>
<br/>
Yumi twists around to give you a skeptical scowl.<br/>
<br/>
"You already <i>have</i> a job," she says. "You told him."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he wants me to quit that one and come out here."<br/>
<br/>
She goes back to eating from her fruit cup. You pour syrup all over you pancakes and start wolfing down bites.<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't quit out at the country club, would you?" Yumi says.<br/>
<br/>
"Why not? It's a sucky job."<br/>
<br/>
"But it's the <i>country club!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's a sucky job at the country club."<br/>
<br/>
"But it's the country club," she insists. "The people out there— I mean, look at the kind of people who come <i>here!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
She glances around. All you can see are old people in VFW hats and a six-top where a fat man and two fat women are fighting with three chubby little kids.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you drawl. "They get the kind of people out here who check into the <i>Donna.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Yumi whirls to glare at you. Then she goes back to eating. She says nothing further, and neither do you, until you're done.<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't want to let you out of the booth when you say you need to go up to pay, and you more or less have to shove her out by reminding her that, no, Sean took back his offer to comp you. When you can't find your waitress, you look in the kitchen, where you ask the cooks where Sean is. They tell you he stepped out back for a smoke. <br/>
<br/>
He's leaning against the wall when you emerge, blinking into the setting sun, with a cigarette between his fingers. A few feet down from him, a Mexican in a white apron is also smoking. They both look over at you, but only Sean nods. He puts the cigarette in his mouth and digs the pack out of his pocket, extending it to you.<br/>
<br/>
"I came to settle the ticket," you tell him as you pluck out a cigarette.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll deduct it from what I owe you," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you owe me?"<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't answer, but turns to look at the Mexican, who takes one last hit off his cigarette before dropping and crushing it under his toe. He blows out a thick stream of white smoke as he goes back inside.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to a party this weekend," Sean says as he hands you a lighter. "I'm bringing refreshments."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh-huh? How much?"<br/>
<br/>
He thinks a moment, then holds up four fingers. Then he adds his thumb. "Ounces?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No!" His eyes pop. "Tokes."<br/>
<br/>
"Hnh. Yeah, I was thinkin' that must be one hell of a party you're supplying. Okay, so, forty less what I owe you for supper."<br/>
<br/>
"Supper's on me."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, forty. You want 'em now or later?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whenever."<br/>
<br/>
You nod. Then you tell him, "I can let you have eight for sixty, if you pay me now."<br/>
<br/>
Sean starts. "You got 'em here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not on me, but I can get 'em for you in an hour."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. That's cool. Okay, deal."<br/>
<br/>
You settle back to finish your cigarette, as does he. Neither of you speaks, until Sean casually says, "I heard you trashed a couple of bozos out at the portables today."<br/>
<br/>
You flick away some ash. "Yeah, I had to teach a couple of motherfuckers to watch their language."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool." He nods.<br/>
<br/>
But you can't help noticing that he doesn't invite you out to that party he's supplying.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Yumi is buttoned up against your advances when you return, and she only grunts when you tell her that Sean just paid for your afternoon at the Donna. Pleading a headache, she asks you to take her home. You feel a headache of your own, and a bad mood to go with it.<br/>
<br/>
So you almost toss the phone away without looking when a text comes in from Maria Vasquez. When you do read it, you wish you hadn't.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Chelsea Cooper broke up with Gordon Black this afternoon,</i> she informs you.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211111121322131112122111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Kiss-Off
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Maria adds nothing more, but she doesn't have to. The implication is clear.<br/>
<br/>
With Gordon free, there's nothing to stop "Yumi" from dropping you and going after him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After stopping by the Sunshine Diner long enough to sell Sean his weed, you drive out to Kirkham's. He gives you a dark look as you barge in. But you had a dark look of your own. "Someone shit in your cereal?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You don't answer, but stride into the dinky living room to have a look around. It's empty, but you push your way out onto the back patio anyway, where the back yard is plunged in the shadows of early evening. Kirkham follows a minute later, and doesn't speak until he's shut the sliding glass door behind him. "So?" he says. "What the fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
You kick a dirty plastic chair away from the dirty plastic outdoor table and slump into it. "I just got back from a date with Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," he hisses.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I should be all bragging about it to you. We went out to the Donna. Two hours. It was awesome." You hunch your shoulders and slide further down into the chair.<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"She's gonna break up with me," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Pfffff." His sigh is barely audible.<br/>
<br/>
"I can just tell," you continue. "She had an itch and I scratched it and that's all it was to her."<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham says, "Good."<br/>
<br/>
You start. "Fuck you. Whadda'yu mean, 'good'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not like you wanted a steady thing, right?" he says. "Did you? Fuck, you're not that big of a—"<br/>
<br/>
"Why the fuck not, man? Cocksucker." Your lips peel back. "If I wanna fucking girlfriend—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you wanted a fucking lay, that's what you wanted," he interrupts you. "If you was smart. She was a fucking lay, and you don't any more than that."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a fucking moron." He steps up to loom over you. "You and Yumi Fukushima, or whatever her last name is? You wanna fucking baby registry with her? Fucking Jesus!" He grabs your shoulders, and starts massaging them. <br/>
<br/>
"You don't need no fucking baby mama," he says, "not one like her. You want your freedom, man. Why'dju wanna stick yourself with her? Whaddaya got then? A job, that's what. A job carrying her shopping bags and curling up with chick flicks and taking her fluffy little rat dog for walks and picking its shit up in a plastic bag. That's what I see when I see you with her. Jesus Christ, man." He bends to put his cheek to yours. "I'll give you all the blow jobs you want, if it saves you from that!" He smooches you by the ear.<br/>
<br/>
You snort. "You better be serious. It's not like I gotta lotta other places I can get blow jobs from."<br/>
<br/>
"Pshhh. You just don't look for them."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, where are they?"<br/>
<br/>
"Anywhere, man. You just get up close and let 'em know you're serious." He gives your shoulders one last squeeze. "Anyway, so what if Yumi dumps ya? You dunked your wick. Count yourself lucky if that's all she wanted."<br/>
<br/>
"What else would she want?"<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham stares down at you from behind crossed arms. His expression is inscrutable in the dark, but his voice drips with contempt. <br/>
<br/>
"A guy she can pussywhip," he tells you. "A guy she can put on a leash. A guy she can show off to her girlfriends and say, 'Look at my new poodle, I made him myself'. Shee-it!"<br/>
<br/>
You're unconvinced, but you see his point, maybe even better than he does. Yumi Saito is probably too smart to try that kind of crap on Gary Chen, but Chelsea Cooper might. You felt a bossy edge when she asked you to walk her to her classes. There was also the snobbery she revealed at Sean's diner.<br/>
<br/>
But all you say is, "Maybe I am worried about nothing."<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham snorts. "Yeah, well, that's what I'm telling you. But do whatever the fuck you want, man. You always do," he adds as he yanks open the door and goes back inside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Yumi texts you the next morning to say that she'll be driving herself to school. At the gym between first and second she only gives you a quick, almost distracted squeeze and smile before following her "friends" into the main building. In class she hardly talks to you, and she doesn't ask you to share lunch. <br/>
<br/>
So you're out by the Music wing, squatting and eating and smoking cigarettes, when you look up to see the Garner girls approaching.<br/>
<br/>
"God damn," Justin Roth murmurs at your elbow. "I know what I'm gonna be jacking off to tonight. Twins."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you snigger. But your heart is beating hard, because you know who it really is and what they probably want.<br/>
<br/>
"Hi Gary," Eva Garner says. "Is this where you hang out for lunch?" She gives Justin and Cody Wooten—the third in your lunch group—a distracted smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, regular-like. Come hang out with us anytime you want."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you had fifth lunch. I thought you were eating with Yumi these days."<br/>
<br/>
You tense. "She's got fifth lunch, I'd have to skip."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to do that from now on? What's that going to do to your grades?"<br/>
<br/>
All the small hairs on your back start to rise. "It's just a bullshit Marketing class, I can pass it without even taking the final."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to do that," Jessica says, speaking for the first time. "You're not serious about her."<br/>
<br/>
She holds your eye, and you hold hers. You put the cigarette to your lips and draw down deep lungful, which you let drift out your nose in a slow exhale. "Who fucking says I'm not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you shouldn't be. It's not gonna last."<br/>
<br/>
Now you feel the blood rushing into your forehead. "Who fucking says it won't?"<br/>
<br/>
"We do," Jessica says. "That's not a threat—"<br/>
<br/>
"It'd be fucking hilarious if it was."<br/>
<br/>
"It's just that we're her friends and we know her, and we know it's not going to last."<br/>
<br/>
<i>This is some fucking middle-school levels of bullshit,</i> you think. Or is it Chen thinking it and you're just reverberating to the echo? It's a thought—no, it's more like a spasm—that comes from the very back of your skull. <i>Nyah, nyah, you're not our friend, we won't let you be her friend,</i> is what you hear. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you know her," you retort, "you know that she digs me, and you know how come."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, we know exactly how come she digs you," Eva says. There's a snigger in her voice. "And it's how come we know you're not going to be seeing her anymore. Anyway," she adds, "we thought we'd better come tell you, so it won't be a total shock when it happens. Come on." She plucks at her sister's elbow, and the two of them walk away. They lean in toward each other, murmuring, as they go.<br/>
<br/>
There's silence from Justin and Cody. The cigarette singes your knuckles, and you drop it and crush it out in the grass with your knee.<br/>
<br/>
"Tsh," Justin says. "Fucking cunts."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you grunt. "But I'd still jack off to 'em."<br/>
<br/>
"Psh, well, sure. Prob'ly more fun to now." He stretches and shakes out his shaggy mane of hair. "God damn it, though."<br/>
<br/>
You stuff the last of your lunch into your bag, but you leave it with Justin as you stalk off to take a walk around the portables and the Ag Annex. Cody has moved on when you return, but Justin is sitting back against the wall of the Music building, his face turned up at the sun, with his hand on your bag. "Was watching your shit for you," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I'd do," he says, "if that happened to me?"<br/>
<br/>
"If what happened to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"If whatever happened to me," he retorts. "If, let's say, I found myself without a girlfriend after these two other girls came up and talked to me like those two talked to you, let's say. So, what I'd do, first thing I'd do, is I'd go find 'em at a party or something. Then I'd lean in close at 'em, and ask if they wanted to go off someplace for a really good fuck."<br/>
<br/>
"Pah. Why'd you wanna do that?"<br/>
<br/>
He takes a hit off his cigarette. <br/>
<br/>
"'Cos it wouldn't hurt when they said no," he replies. "But—fuck me—wouldn't it be awesome if they said yes?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The predicted moment, when it comes, comes in the parking lot after school. Yumi lets you walk her out to her car, but she pulls away when you try putting your arm around her, and brushes you back with a glib, "We had fun yesterday, didn't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Glad you had fun, I did too. 'Course, you know," you continue with a shrug, "we don't have to have fun like that every day." She smiles at that. "If you just wanna hang out now, go somewhere, talk." You shrug again. "Hold hands."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, we should hang out sometime," she says as she opens her car door.<br/>
<br/>
You grab it after she gets in so that she can't pull it shut. "What do you mean, 'sometime'?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," she says, "sometime. Like, I dunno." She dimples at you. "Next weekend, maybe?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean go out to the Donna again?" Your chest is tightening, so you don't mind being blunt with her.<br/>
<br/>
"Gary!" she simpers. "No, I just meant 'hang out'. At someone's house. I'm sure we'll  run into each other."<br/>
<br/>
You feel your hair start to bristle. "We've been 'running into each other' every day at school."<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. "We have classes together."<br/>
<br/>
"So you mean we're not going to be 'running into each other' outside of class anymore? Like we did yesterday or this weekend or—"<br/>
<br/>
"Gary!" Amused pity shows in her eye. "I told you I had fun! It was great! But, you know—"<br/>
<br/>
And then she says them. Words that Gary Chen has never heard before, but Will Prescott has.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"It's not like we ever said we were going out together."</i></span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111111213221311121221112
author_id: seuzz
title: Reality Bites
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a wonder you don't haul her out of the car by her hair and grind her face into the parking lot. Because that's exactly what you want to do.<br/>
<br/>
But you keep your self control, even as you step inside the car door, and kneel to put your face close to Yumi's.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen," you hiss at her. "I don't know what you think you're doing. Do you think you're dumping me before I can dump you? Is that it, is that—? Do you think that's all it was about, what we did, yesterday and this weekend, it was just about me looking to score, looking to score offa you? Is that what you think of me?" <br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself start to tremble all over. "Are you trying to get in the last word first? Is that what you're trying to do, trying to tell me it was fun but I can fuck off now, before I can—? You trying to scrape me off before I can scrape you off? Are you tryin' to preserve your <i>fucking pride?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Yumi's eyes widen, and her mouth forms a perfect "o".<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos if it's not that, then what was all that shit yesterday, out at the motel and out at the river? What was that shit about me walkin' and talkin' with you between classes, walkin' you out to your locker and out to your classes, and getting me to skip so's I can have lunch with you? The fuck did you <i>think</i> all that meant?"<br/>
<br/>
You have to pause to draw a deep, ragged breath. Yumi says, "I just— I just—"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos I'll tell you what the fuck it meant to <i>me,</i> you— Yumi," you correct yourself before you can call her a <i>cunt.</i> "It meant I was fucking serious about you. Yeah!" Your voice cracks. "Fucking <i>serious!</i> Serious enough that I'd do that shit with you!"<br/>
<br/>
You half-choke on the bile that's welling up in your throat.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanted to hang out, so I hung out. Yeah, maybe I was also thinking, yeah, I got a chance to score here. But you wanted to hang out, and I hung out, and that was great. And we had fun, we rocked the Donna hard yesterday." <br/>
<br/>
You punch yourself in the chest with a hard forefinger. <br/>
<br/>
"But you fucked up, Yumi, you fucked up because you <i>talked</i> to me. You talked to me, and you told me about your shit and you made me fucking like you. Yeah! I got to thinking, I fucking like this girl, not just, I'd like to fuck her. I. Fucking. <i>Like her!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You straighten up with a glare. She's gone as white as a sheet.<br/>
<br/>
"But now you wanna break it all off, like it never happened. You wanna go back to how it was last week, the week before. Okay, sure, we can do that, we can do whatever the fuck you want. 'Cos I'm not a psycho, I'm not like some obsessed stalker. Fuck, if we go back to the way it was, it just means I'm free to go off and score with some other girl, some other <i>bint</i> someplace. Which'll be fucking awesome."<br/>
<br/>
You catch your breath, blink, and think, <i>Yeah, right, as fucking if.</i><br/>
<br/>
"But at least pay me the <i>fucking common courtesy,</i> you— Yumi. Of <i>breaking up</i> with me! Because you can <i>say</i> we weren't going together. But we <i>were!</i> And fuck you if you say otherwise!"<br/>
<br/>
You grasp the top of the car door. "You all inside there? Fingers, skirt, feet all in? Good. 'Cos I don't wanna hurt you." You slam the car door on her.<br/>
<br/>
And the blow of its closing almost jars tears from your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>The fuck are you doing? The fuck do you think you're doing?</i><br/>
<br/>
That was your challenge to Yumi. But it's also your challenge to yourself. You bruise your eyes with the heel of your hand, and brood as you rocket across town, to where you've got a couple of appointments to keep.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi is going to break up with Chen. Of course she is. Chelsea would be crazy not to, now that her real boyfriend is on the market again. She probably told Eva and Jessica as much, which is why Mike and Carlos came out to jeer at you at lunch.<br/>
<br/>
And it will be for the best. If she breaks up with Chen, then you won't have to play his part any more. You can take off the mask and go back to being Jenny, or you can find yourself another beta to replace Chen—maybe turn yourself into Gordon—and go on for there. And it would be good (as the others keep pointing out) for Yumi not to be mixed up with Chen.<br/>
<br/>
So what the fuck were you doing by blowing up at her that way? What the fuck did you think you were accomplishing by more or less declaring Gary Chen's undying devotion to Yumi Saito?<br/>
<br/>
Part of it (you will tell the others if they ask) is you just being in character. That explosion of rage and desire came straight from Chen himself. You know, because you can still feeling his boiling desire, and his fury at being rejected, roiling your guts. It's been very easy for you to act his part—maybe too easy, the others would say—and that scene in the parking lot, just as much as the scene at lunch—<br/>
<br/>
And in the Donna and at the diner and at the river and at Kirkham's and at all the points in between—<br/>
<br/>
All that was you letting Gary Chen take control and express himself. Like, would <i>Will Prescott</i> ever goad four basketball players into following him out to the portables so he could whip their asses?<br/>
<br/>
But part of it, you brood, has to be yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<i>We never said we were going out together.</i><br/>
<br/>
Maybe Chen would be pissed at Yumi for saying that to him. But would he have been stung quite so hard as you were? Didn't you enjoy that scene just a little more than he would have, because it gave you a chance to yell certain things at one girl—Yumi Saito—that you wish you could have yelled at another?<br/>
<br/>
Except—<br/>
<br/>
And here you can almost hear Gary sniggering at you.<br/>
<br/>
Except that Gary had a lot more reason to think that Yumi was into him, than Will Prescott ever had to think that Lisa Yarborough was.<br/>
<br/>
Fuck.<br/>
<br/>
So you can only get laid as Gary Chen, and you can only have a satisfying break-up as him too. And you can only fight off the bullies by being him and you can only have good talks with friends (like Kirkham and Roth) as him. It's like the motherfucker's twice as real as you, and you had to steal everything from him so you could find out what it's like to actually be real.<br/>
<br/>
So maybe that's how come you blew up at Yumi. Because giving up Yumi means giving up on being someone who makes you feel more alive and real than you've ever felt before.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"She told me it was because she was sick of Gordon's shit," Maria Vasquez tells you a little later, when you're meeting at the storage complex. "But," she adds, "she hasn't been talking to me as much as, uh, Chelsea usually does."<br/>
<br/>
It's just the two of you, and you're talking about "Chelsea" because you don't want to talk about "Yumi." In fact, you don't want to talk at all, and concentrate on the takeout you picked up at your aunt's restaurant. You shovel it in, listening keenly to what Maria has to say, and prompting her between mouthfuls with questions of only three or four words.<br/>
<br/>
"Frankly," Maria continues, "I think this is just Yumi's way of getting even with Chelsea because of what Chelsea is doing with, uh—" She bites her lip. "With you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Makes sense.</i> "When'd she do it?" you ask. "Break up wit'im, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Yesterday afternoon, I guess. She didn't tell me until afterwards. I heard it from Kendra first, actually. She texted me with the news, asked what I knew about it, so I texted Chelsea. She just texted me back— Well, here." She takes out her cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Ungh, I don't need'a see. Wha'd Gordon do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what he said to her. It broke the lunch table up, though. It was interesting." She frowns thoughtfully. "Everyone got together today at lunch at first, as usual, except Gordon and Chelsea didn't sit together. She took the middle, her usual spot. He went down to the end. Everyone kind of spread out, guys down by him, girls up by Chelsea. It was pretty tense. You know."<br/>
<br/>
"Can imagine."<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon finally lost his temper, stormed off over to another table. Steve and the other guys followed him. Chelsea got called a couple of names. Interesting that he broke first."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because she got custody of the table. It's the alpha table, Will," she explains in a tired tone. "The one in the middle, you know. I guess it shows that the status game—at least for the cafeteria table—is more important to Chelsea than it is to Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow a piece of pork, sniff, and fluff the rice. "Yeah, well, Gordon knows that if anyone gets lippy he can just pile drive them into the quad. Chelsea needs the table to prove she's the queen bee."<br/>
<br/>
Maria studies you. Then she says, "Which reminds me, that fight you had yesterday? That was pretty impressive."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"No, seriously, it was—"<br/>
<br/>
You're spared further embarrassment by footsteps in the hallway. Jenny leaps in through the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
"Guys!" she gasps. "Will!" she exclaims when she sees you. "You'll never guess! Chelsea asked you out on a date!"<br/>
<br/>
You frown. Jenny jumps into the room and clutches at you. "Did you hear what I said?'<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but what are you talking about? Chelsea didn't ask me nothing. Unless you're talking about Yumi, and then it was—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm talking about <i>you!</i> Will Prescott! The guy at school who everyone thinks is you!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>The dipshit?</i> You've hardly spared a thought for him since—<br/>
<br/>
"The head cheerleader," Jenny says. "She asked him out on a date!"</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111112132213111212211121
author_id: seuzz
title: Unexpected Objects of Desire
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can hardly hear Beta-Jenny's words through the buzz of blood rushing into your ears. <i>Chelsea Cooper asked Will Prescott out? On a date?</i><br/>
<br/>
Cindy and the Garner girls come scuttling in right behind, so the chirp and chatter is almost deafening. You feel your face twisting into a grimace as you try to sort it all out. "Hey!" you finally shout, and loose a teeth-cracking whistle. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking wenches! One at a goddamn, fucking time! Jenny!" You snap at a finger at the startled girl. "You talk. The rest of you, shut it up and shut it hard!"<br/>
<br/>
All of them—except Cindy, who looks a little amused—glower pinkly at you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Beta-Jenny's story came from Beta-Will himself, so it sounds like bullshit. But as Jenny relates it, Maria taps away at her phone, and by the time Beta-Jenny finishes she is able to confirm the outlines of it with Chelsea herself.<br/>
<br/>
It went down late in the day, in seventh period, when Will has a study hall. Chelsea Cooper—captain of the cheerleader squad—sauntered into the library and marched up right up to him. After complimenting him on his appearance, she asked him what he was doing that Friday night, and when he said he hadn't made plans she said that she would be going out with friends, probably, and that he should come along. <br/>
<br/>
At least your beta had the wit to reply, "Sure."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is Yumi doing?" Eva wonders aloud. <br/>
<br/>
"Isn't it obvious?" Jessica snorts. "She's doing it to get back at Chelsea. The real one. Who's fucking up her old life with this—" She glares at you. "So she's trying to get back at Chelsea by fucking up her life. Dumping Gordon and picking up Will instead."<br/>
<br/>
"Jessica!" Cindy exclaims. "How can you be so mean? You're talking like Will isn't a catch!" She sidles up and slides her arm into yours, and you can't help getting a rise out of it. "Remember all that stuff we did for him, raising his profile? Well, my God, we should all be celebrating, 'cos look how awesome it all worked out! Will's now so sexy that <i>Chelsea Cooper</i> wants to <i>pphgghkkkk!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
She explodes in the giggles, and snot flies out her nose as she tries to stifle them.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, fuck you too, bitch." You pull away from her.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, don't be mad, Will! I'm serious. Well, kind of. I'm sure it's a mix of things," she tells the group. "Right, so part of it's gotta be Yumi getting back at Chelsea, 'cos, you know, let's face it, Will's not exactly Chelsea's style. But I don't think she'd have even looked at Will if we hadn't put all that work into— Will!"<br/>
<br/>
But you ignore her cry as you stalk out the storage bay and trudge toward the exit.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You pace the footprint of the storage complex—all twenty acres or so of it—with your head down and your hands shoved in your pockets.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fucking bitches.</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, it's not their fault that things are now in a mess. It's your fault, mostly, you have to admit.<br/>
<br/>
You're the one who joined their body-jacking club, and signed up to help Fairfax with his twisted "sociology experiment." You're the one who let them change you and your image, and you're the one who sent your beta out to find a girlfriend. You're the one who suggested swapping Chelsea and Yumi, and you're the one who tried pairing the fake Yumi with a fake Gary Chen. So it's mostly your fault now that—<br/>
<br/>
You wheel and kick at a wall, and kick at it again when the first kick doesn't solve anything.<br/>
<br/>
Because it's not exactly a <i>mess</i>, is it? <br/>
<br/>
So fucking what that "Chelsea" broke up with her boyfriend. From all that you've seen and heard, Gordon Black was a brute and a thug on track to be voted in the yearbook as "Most Likely to Kill Someone in a Bar Fight Before He's Twenty-Five."<br/>
<br/>
And what kind of disaster would it be if "Chelsea" started going out with "Will Prescott"? Aside from it being a grotesque cats-and-dogs-fucking-each-other absurdity, it's the kind of fantastical twist of which more than one of your wet dreams has been crafted.<br/>
<br/>
No, what hurts is Carlos's jeer, which Keith more or less repeated. Yumi has chosen <i>you</i> as the person to debase her "Chelsea Cooper" persona with, so as to get back at the real girl, and she chose you <i>because</i> you're all wrong for "Chelsea Cooper."<br/>
<br/>
But, strangely, now that you've faced up to it, you feel a little better.<br/>
<br/>
Probably because you've found someone else to blame. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes, it's Yumi's fault for flirting with your beta!</i><br/>
<br/>
You've circled back around to the climate-controlled unit by now, and so are near at hand when the door flies open and Beta-Jenny comes out. She hurries up to you with a quick, excited step. "So I guess you're getting used to the idea, huh?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"What idea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, the idea of you— I mean, your beta, going out with Chelsea. Not that I approve of Chelsea, exactly, but you know it's a real— What?" She breaks off at your snort. "What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you so happy for?" you demand. "You heard them back in there. She's just using ... <i>me!</i> ... as a way to get back at the real Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Beta-Jenny exclaims. She looks hurt, even insulted. "Why would you say that? It's not true!"<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not!" <br/>
<br/>
She grabs you by the arm, and again you rise and stiffen, though not as much as when it was Cindy. <br/>
<br/>
"It's just Yumi being, well ... Yumi!" she says. "That's what it is. You know she's not into meat-headed jocks like Gordon or Steve Patterson, or any of those guys on the squads. Oh, by the way," she says, breaking in on herself, "I heard about what you did to some of those guys yesterday. That was pretty freaking awesome. But Yumi's always liked you," she resumes, "as a friend at least, and after what, um, Keith and them back there did for you, she's got a new look at you. And you know—"<br/>
<br/>
She grabs you now with both hands, and puts her face close to yours.<br/>
<br/>
"You <i>were</i> trying to set yourself up with her," she murmurs. "Remember? Before, you know—" She points at her face, then at yours. "So now she's got a chance to follow through on what you started setting up with her. I bet she really is interested in, uh, getting to know that guy you left behind."<br/>
<br/>
You suck in a cheek but say nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"And even if that's not it," she continues, "she probably wants to help you out, lift your profile. You deserve it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>No I don't,</i> you mouth to yourself. But your spirit does lift a little.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on." She squeezes your arm. "Cheer up. The thing I hate most about seeing you like this—you being Gary, I mean—is that it makes you look at the world like the way he does. Like everyone and everything's against you.<br/>
<br/>
"But now?" she crows, and lifts her face toward the sky. "How could it be any better for you?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There is one way it could be better. Chelsea Cooper could be going out with <i>you</i> and not your beta.<br/>
<br/>
You don't say anything to Fairfax or them about switching back to your old identity, not yet, when you go back inside. They'd probably want to do it tonight, and you've got Chen's workday at the country club still ahead of you.<br/>
<br/>
So you're still wearing his mask when Yumi texts you that night to ask you to pick her for school the next morning, and of course you're still wearing his mask when you pull up at her house at a little before eight.<br/>
<br/>
"I spent all night thinking about what you said yesterday," she says in a small voice when she's inside your Jeep. "And I've decided you're right. I really wasn't being fair to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Yumi—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, let me finish. I wasn't being fair to you," she repeats. "I just assumed—" She swallows, noisily. "I just assumed you were in it for, you know, just a thing, like we did." You notice she can't bring herself to describe the "thing" that you did. "It wasn't fair for me to assume that you wouldn't want to, um, be serious about us."<br/>
<br/>
"Yumi," you say, "you don't want to be with a guy like me."<br/>
<br/>
You don't know how to follow that up, so you leave it hanging. She doesn't answer right away either. <br/>
<br/>
Then she says, "But what if you aren't a guy like that, Gary? I don't think a ... a guy like that would have talked to me like you did yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Except I did."<br/>
<br/>
"So maybe that means you're not a guy like that. Almost everything you did with me, I don't think it's what a ... a guy like that ... would do. Is it?"<br/>
<br/>
She asks the question in a very small voice.<br/>
<br/>
If you tell her "No, it isn't," you'll have to stay where you are.<br/>
<br/>
Because if she's right, and you're not "a guy like that," it's because she's seeing someone else—maybe she's seeing <i>you</i>—behind Chen's mask.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211115
author_id: seuzz
title: The World Smashers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>An awkward silence settles over the room. Pinched glances are exchanged, but everyone hesitates to say anything.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, Maria sighs and says, "Well, if no one really likes any of these ideas, then let's think about some other project we could—"<br/>
<br/>
Jessica puts up her hand. "You just said you wanted to swap Cody and Charles."<br/>
<br/>
"Well—"<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
Maria flushes slightly beneath her tan. "Well, why not?"<br/>
<br/>
Jessica rolls her eyes. "Come on, man, you must've had a reason for picking those two."<br/>
<br/>
Maria makes a face. <br/>
<br/>
"Well," she says, "what I was thinking was, it might be interesting to see what would happen if you moved someone who was comfortable in one world into another. And vice versa. And Cody and Charles, well, they seem like they come from very different worlds." She compresses her lips.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh," says Jessica. Then her sister, very brightly, says "Kind of like 'The Prince and the Pauper'?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," Maria allow.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, hell, in that case," Eva continues, "I know exactly who we should switch. Kelsey Blankenship and—" She stumbles a little, as though she's not quite sure which name she's reaching for. "Sienna Goldman."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>fuck!</i>" Jessica shoves her. "You just wanna get back at Kelsey for Saturday night!"<br/>
<br/>
"Dur!"<br/>
<br/>
"What happened Saturday night?" Chelsea asks.<br/>
<br/>
"We went out to Kelsey's for her regular Saturday-night party," Jessica says, "and Kelsey—"<br/>
<br/>
"Sienna Goldman?" Cindy interrupts. "Isn't she, like, that death-metal girl who plays in a band?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't call it 'death metal'," Eva says. "More like—"<br/>
<br/>
"Lady Steel," Maria interrupts. "That's her band. You like Dead Kennedys?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Cindy blinks. "Oh. Well, my dad likes 'em dead."<br/>
<br/>
Eva leans forward. "They're hardcore punk," she says. "But you've seen Sienna around." Cindy nods. "So you know what it would do to Kelsey to wake up in Sienna's body and clothes and life. And hell—" She shrugs. "Sienna would probably like to vacation in Kelsey's."<br/>
<br/>
You've seen Sienna around too, dressed in torn clothes and piercings. You haven't had her in any classes since ... your sophomore year? You're not sure. But she doesn't look like an AP student. At best, she looks like a truck driver.<br/>
<br/>
But Jessica is talking: "If you wanna cross worlds and make someone walk a mile in someone else's shoes, how about Marcos and Molly Shaw?"<br/>
<br/>
"Rivera?" Eva's eyes nearly pop.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. And we can get to 'em easy. At least, we can always get to Marcos. Asshole is always coming over to brag to Marc about—"<br/>
<br/>
"How would switching Marcos and Molly constitute 'crossing worlds'?" Maria asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Gender swap, dur," Cindy says.<br/>
<br/>
Jessica gives her a look. "It's crossing worlds because Marcos is a womanizing asshole who lubricates his dick and slips on a condom every morning, in case he meets up with some chica who wants it from him. G'yeugh!" She makes a face.<br/>
<br/>
"He's got three girlfriends," Eva adds with a knowing look.<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone knows about Marcos," Maria sighs. "But—"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know!" Cindy exclaims. "What's the story? How does that work, having three girlfriends?" She sits up and scuttles forward with alert interest.<br/>
<br/>
"He's got a wife, a mistress, and another mistress," Eva says. "Plus a bunch of other—"<br/>
<br/>
"He's <i>married?</i>" Cindy gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not legally. But Cristina Ramon— Is it Cristina who's the wife?" Eva asks Jessica.<br/>
<br/>
"Like it matters."<br/>
<br/>
A lot of cross-talk follows, as the Garner girls try to explain to Cindy the complicated romantic relationships of Marcos Rivera. You're interested despite yourself—or maybe you're interested because of Jenny—but even you are confused by the distinctions that get made between the "official girlfriend" and the "official girl who sleeps with him because the girlfriend won't" and the "official fuck biddy" who he goes to when the girlfriend-who-sleeps-with-him isn't available.<br/>
<br/>
And why switch him with Molly Shaw? Because she's the kind of girl who sleeps with any guy who will look at her, and has suffered multiple pregnancy scares on account of it. She's "the eternal victim," as Jessica puts it before adding, "I wanna see how Marcos likes it."<br/>
<br/>
"You just don't like Marcos," Eva tells her.<br/>
<br/>
"You got that fucking right! Son of a bitch needs a hard smack."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy nudges you. "Forget Molly, I know who you should swap Marcos with," she tells the other before smirking up at you. "Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"Johansson?" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"You know another one?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pft," Jessica snorts. "That's not punishment, turning someone into Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure it is," Cindy retorts. "Anyway, I thought we weren't talking about punishing anyone, I thought we were talking about 'crossing worlds'." She snickers at you. "Any world where Johansson gets pussy is one that's crossed over into something else, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Jessica goes back to ranting about Marcos, and Eva with a giggle suggests swapping Marcos and Kelsey, but you're distracted by the idea of swapping Caleb with someone else. It seems at first like it would be a really mean thing to do to your best friend. But aren't you doing something kind of mean to him now, by not bringing him in on all this fun? If you swapped him with someone, and let him suffer and sweat for a bit, then you could reveal what it was all about and make it a reward to him by bringing him into the club. At least, the others would have a hard time keeping him out if you suggested it after making him a victim.<br/>
<br/>
You're brought out of these reflections by Chelsea, who despite her earlier disinterest has now brought forth a suggestion of her own: Gordon Black and Charles Hartlein. That draws gasps from everyone. "Why them?" Maria asks.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's reply is insolent. "As someone said a little while ago, Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Josiah," Maria starts to say, but Chelsea overrides her.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you wanna cross worlds, that's crossing worlds! Besides, he's all up in my— Trying to get up in my— Well, you know!" She turns very red. We all of us— Well, some of us," she says after catching sight of you, and giving you the stink eye, "are getting hit on, but I'm the only one with a boyfriend I have to fight off!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not a good reason—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's as good a reason as any! And like I say, if you want to cross world, that crosses worlds!" She giggles—a nasty sound. "Don't tell me you wouldn't love to see Gordon trying to run the drama department and acting like a—" She flaps a very limp wrist. "Or, I dunno," she adds with a shrug. "Swap him with anyone. Doofus hardly knows what to do with himself, so you could swap him with anyone and—<br/>
<br/>
"How swapping him with Steve?" Maria offers.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Ewwww! Noooo!"</i> Chelsea makes to stick her finger down the back of her tongue. "Swap him with someone gay. Swap him with a girl. Swap him with someone in the chess club. Someone who plays D&amp;D. You know!"<br/>
<br/>
"But someone who won't try sticking Gordon's dick in you after the swap," Eva offers with dripping scorn.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly!" Chelsea exclaims. "Like someone said. <i>World crossing!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You mull the bruited possibilities in the silence that follows. The only good reason to swap people, Fairfax seemingly wants to say, is to see how radically different people fare in each other's lives. But that kind of swap is going to cause the people who are swapped a lot of pain, so why not use the trick to get back at people who have pissed you and your friends off?<br/>
<br/>
And as soon as you have that insight, you get another idea for a swap: Geoff Mansfield and—<br/>
<br/>
Well, it hardly matters who, right? Blast Mansfield out of his body and away from Lisa and all his friends.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111151
author_id: seuzz
title: The Girls From Different Worlds
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You doubt you could talk the others into going along with your idea of swapping Geoff Mansfield with anyone. You're not interested in their private vendettas, so why would they be interested in yours? <br/>
<br/>
And tempers seem short. Chelsea is flushed, Maria's mouth is a grim line, and Jessica has her hands clenched around her temples.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's go the first idea," you blurt out. "The one with Kelsey and Sienna."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we should sleep on it, Will," Maria says.<br/>
<br/>
Jessica lurches to her feet. "No, let's just doing something," she snaps. Before anyone can react, she strides out of the studio. Eva watches her go, gives the room a quick glance-round, and runs after.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we better sleep on it," Cindy says. Like a lean housecat, she leverages herself to her feet. "See you tomorrow at practice?" she purrs at her arch-enemy, Chelsea Cooper, and slides an arm through hers. Chelsea looks startled, then grins back. "Make it a memorable one, like this morning's" she says, and kisses Chelsea on the temple.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, what was that about?" you ask Keith when you and he are outside by your cars. The others are still inside.<br/>
<br/>
"Carlos? He sometimes gets wound up, especially when he's got an idea he's hot for but—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you and Josiah." You lean in to peck Cindy on the temple.<br/>
<br/>
Keith affects a surprised gasp. "Why Jenny! I should've guessed!" You punch her in the arm, and she laughs. "Just keeping things friendly like between me and Shank. He's off in his own little world. Or haven't you noticed?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've noticed he doesn't seem to be around much."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that was just to remind him that he's loved and respected. And thank God you didn't push your idea for swapping Chelsea and Kim. You do <i>not</i> want Shank pissed at you."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever." From what you remember of Josiah Shank in his natural form—a rat-faced little nobody with a boob fetish—you can't really believe you'd ever have anything to fear from him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Meanwhile, you've got your own love life to worry about. Will Prescott's love life, that is.<br/>
<br/>
You text your beta at supper time to invite him out for a study session. Naturally,  he agrees to meet you. You rendezvous in the parking lot of the municipal library; inside, you wind your way through the stacks until you find a secret little alcove in a very back corner where you can curl up in a couple of plush chairs with your books in your lap.<br/>
<br/>
You open by asking who he's seeing these days. He tenses up. "No one officially," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"But you are hanging out with girls, aren't you?" you prod him. "Caleb and those guys assume you are."<br/>
<br/>
"Well—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you having lunches with?"<br/>
<br/>
He pales. "Uh ... Couple of girls on the volleyball team. I feel like they want me to be their team mascot," he adds.<br/>
<br/>
"You could do a lot worse." Mention of the volleyball team causes your thoughts to bounce (like a volleyball) from one possibility to another. "Have you been out to Catherine Muskov's place yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, no."<br/>
<br/>
"You need to start hanging out there. You can't just sit around and wait for the girls to pick you up and carry you over the finish line, Will." He hunches under your hectoring. "You need to be out there. Available, yes. But following up. Talking to. Going up to. But without being a pest." You sigh and rein yourself in as his shoulders bunch up around his ears. "That's why you should to out to Catherine's," you conclude. "Just <i>being</i> there will get you doing all the right moves. You know?"<br/>
<br/>
"No I don't."<br/>
<br/>
That's right, he doesn't. You wouldn't know it either, but for Jenny's brain.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you know Catherine, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Track-team Catherine?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, her." You pause as a furtively lascivious light comes into his eyes. "Yeah, Catherine's a babe," you assure him. "But she's got a boyfriend. Point is, she's always got people over at her house after school, just hanging out. You can just show up if you want, no one'll flip out."<br/>
<br/>
He gets that rabbity look, and you wince a little to realize that Jenny has classified one of your usual facial expressions as "that rabbity look." "Uh," he stammers, "I'm not real good at just 'showing up'."<br/>
<br/>
"I know that too. But it's not hard. You just show up."<br/>
<br/>
Then you to break off. Jenny is a great one for "just showing up," and with her personality you can barely conceive that anyone ever would object to her "just showing up." But now you have to wonder if people have been bitching behind her back about her habit of "just showing up."<br/>
<br/>
But that's Jenny's long-term problem, not yours, so you shake it off.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, the cool people just show up at Catherine's," you explain to Will. "So if you just show up, people will take it that you're one of the cool people. You're looking like it these days." You bat at the brim of his new leather fedora. "But if it makes you feel better, tell them you were looking for me over there. I won't be, I got things to do tomorrow, but you can—"<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow?" His eyes widen. "I have to do this tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't I say that? And don't shit yourself. Will!" You can't help it, you have to lean over to grip him by the knee. "I can't believe I'm telling you this, but it's the God's own truth from someone looking at you from the outside. You're actually attractive. You look good anyway, and Jessica and Cindy and them have made you look even better. Just stand up straight, keep your shoulders back, look people in the eye, and smile. The guys will respect it and the girls'll get a flutter. Trust me!" You pinch his thigh as he blushes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning brings good news from Eva when you hook up with her at study hall.<br/>
<br/>
"We're all set for the Kelsey-Sienna thing," she hurriedly informs you. "My darling sister and I had a heart-to-heart yesterday, and we got everything fixed up. But do me a favor, okay?" She squeezes your forearm. "The next time Carlos suggests something," she says in a low voice, "back him up on it."<br/>
<br/>
It worries you a little, the idea of giving Carlos a blank check like that, but you nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Good," Eva says. "I already talked to—" She looks over your shoulder, then hurriedly adds, "Philip and everyone else. They're all good with it and are setting it up. Hey girls!" She beams at Rachel and Audrey as they slide into the seats opposite you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You catch up to Jessica at her locker at the start of lunch. "So I hear we're all on the same page?" you ask her anxiously.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, sure, Jenny." Her smile is bright, and you can detect no trace of bitterness behind it as you study her. "How's your day been?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," you answer, a little warily. "Is there anything I can do to help?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't think so. Unless," she adds as though it's just occurred to her, "do you know Sienna Goldman? I mean, like, to talk to or hang out with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, not really, not like—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, in that case—" <br/>
<br/>
She closes her locker and leans up against it, pulling her books tight to her chest. <br/>
<br/>
"Me and Eva," she continues in a voice loud enough to be heard over the growl and mutter of the surging crowd, "I think, we're gonna try getting together with Jelena, you know, Petrovic. It's an idea we had for the squad, getting her band to record some music we could use in our routines. Or maybe, who knows, putting on a live show with us? That'd be cool, don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that sounds awesome." But you tense. <i>Where is she going with this? If anywhere?</i><br/>
<br/>
"So we'll gonna try to get together with her," Jessica continues. "I bet we can talk her into it, talk someone into talking her into it. But if she doesn't like it, maybe we'll go talk to Sienna and her band instead. Who are you having lunch with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um ... You?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. "I've got other lunch plans, Jenny," she says. She touches your forearm. "But we'll get together later."<br/>
<br/>
With that, she pushes her way into the crowd, leaving you with a chill.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you could and usually would go off to eat with Carson and James. But instead, after changing out your books at your locker, you go off to the cafeteria. Chances are that Jessica's "lunch plans" are going to take her elsewhere. But you are feeling incorrigibly nosy, and are hoping a quick glance around the cafeteria might tell you what Carlos is up to, if anything.<br/>
<br/>
No, scratch that. You've got enough hints that he's <i>definitely</i> up to something.<br/>
<br/>
But if Jessica's in the cafeteria, she's hiding under a table, because after two circuits you still haven't spotted her. You're making a third when you stop short.<br/>
<br/>
Sienna Goldman is sitting at a table of in a corner. Sitting with her are Jelena Petrovic—the girl that Jessica mentioned—and Fatima Zahedi. As you watch, Jelena gets up and takes her tray—still full—to the trash can, where she dumps it out. Back at the table, she lays hands briefly on Sienna's shoulders, then strides out.<br/>
<br/>
You could chase after Jelena and try setting up that meeting that Jessica was talking about. Instead, you stay and regard Fatima speculatively. Jenny has had a couple of classes with her, and has worked on school projects with her. It occurs to you that, unless appearances here are deceiving, someone could use Fatima instead of Jelena to get to Sienna to make that body swap. And it might get you in better with the guys—with Carlos in particular—if you offered to be that someone.</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111511
author_id: seuzz
title: Fatima's Fate
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You eat your lunch at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, watching Fatiman and Sienna the whole time out of the corner of your eye. When they rise to leave, you follow at a discreet distance. When they part, you follow Fatima until she stops at and opens a locker.<br/>
<br/>
That's when you make your move.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"We appreciate your being so, mm, <i>proactive</i> about this, uh, Will," Philip Fairfax says as he leads you down the cool, concrete corridor toward the studio where he and his friends make their YouTube videos. "We just wish you had given us a little more notice."<br/>
<br/>
He looks like Fairfax and, God help you, he talks like Fairfax too: precise, logical, and stiff as plywood. <br/>
<br/>
But it's not Fairfax. It's the beta that he left in his place. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, I saw my chance and grabbed it," you reply. "Are the other guys here yet? Because I didn't see any cars out front."<br/>
<br/>
"It's just you and me for now. Uh, Carlos and Mike'll be out after supper." He kneels to unlock the door to one of the storage bays. It rattles as he lifts it. "That's when Fatima's coming out, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Yes, that's the plan.<br/>
<br/>
It was a slightly strained conversation you had with Fatima at her locker. You started by reminding her of who you were and that you'd worked with her before on a school project, then asked her if she was good friends with Sienna. After she gave you a puzzled nod, you told her that some of the cheerleaders were talking about asking Sienna to help them make a music video for the squad. <i>Would Sienna and her band be interested?</i> When Fatima asked, <i>Why don't you ask Sienna?</i> and you said that you wanted to spare everyone concerned any possible embarrassment by first sounding out someone who knew Sienna. She made a face, and you then hurriedly introduced the idea of taking her out to Carlos's studio to see some of the videos he and has his friends had made, so that she (Fatima) could see if it was something professional enough that maybe Sienna could be tempted. You had impressed upon her that she should show up without Sienna or any of her other friends—again, to help spare everyone embarrassment. Fatima had looked unhappy, but had agreed to come out at around seven o'clock.<br/>
<br/>
Because of the story you told Fatima, the fake cheerleaders are going to have to absent themselves. It will be up to you to prepare for and make the switch, with the help of the fakes they left behind.<br/>
<br/>
At least you only have beta-Philip to deal with for now. Being semi-robotic anyway, he's probably the creepiest of them, but you feel safer with there only being one of them on hand. If beta-Mike and beta-Carlos were here too (never mind beta-Josiah and beta-Keith), you'd probably freak yourself out by wondering if they were about to go all <i>Westworld</i> on your ass.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The work goes smoothly enough, though it's tedious and you get a crick in your neck as you bend over Carlos's desk and chisel some runes into a small metal band with some tiny tools. On the opposite side of the space, beta-Philip uses a car buffer to shine up a mask that you helped him cast; the room still reeks of the fumes.<br/>
<br/>
At least you are able to confirm—as if it matters—that the book they are using to make the masks is the same crazy one you found at Arnholm's and lost in a scrum with some bullies. It's propped at your elbow, open a few pages in, and it's from that spell that you are copying the runes.<br/>
<br/>
The other two betas show up at around six-thirty, bringing some food with them. While you eat they examine your work and point to a few corrections. When it is finished, they supervise as you glue the band into the inner surface of the mask. "So, Jenny, are you a good witch or a bad witch?" Mike asks with a leer after congratulating you on completing your first spell. You answer him with a look.<br/>
<br/>
Fatima is late showing up, and you have to suppress the urge to text her to find out if she's actually coming, but eventually you do get a text telling you she's at the complex gate, needing the code to get in. You shoot it to her, then go outside to meet her.<br/>
<br/>
Dark of hair, dark of skin, dressed in dark colors: Fatima Zahedi is only a shadow in the rapidly failing dusk as she gets out of her car. Her expression is unreadable in the dark, but her tone is friendly as she calls out a "Hey Jenny" to you. "Why are we meeting at a storage complex again?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"It's where these guys have their studio." You pull open the door for her. "Carlos Montoya? His family owns the place, and they let him turn one of the units into kind of a studio."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Sounds interesting," she says. She makes "interesting" sound like a synonym for "creepy and weird."<br/>
<br/>
Like she's one to talk.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, Fatima is not "creepy and weird," but she hangs out with an artsy crowd, and she's second- or third-generation Iranian-American, so she cuts an idiosyncratic figure almost without trying. Right now, for instance, as you stride down the central corridor, you can't help sneaking an admiring glance at her ensemble. She's dressed in tight, black pants that taper off just above her ankle, and a tight, forest-green jacket that might be velvet; a dark-purple scarf (of silk, maybe?) is tie loosely about her throat and fastened with a silver pin as big as your thumb. She clomps along in black, high-heeled boots with silver buckles.<br/>
<br/>
She catches you giving her the sidelong eye, and does a double-take. "Yes?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Just admiring your wardrobe. Wow. Are you going to a party later?"<br/>
<br/>
She laughs, a little stiffly. "No, I just felt like dressing nice tonight."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Really?</i> Because now that you look at her, you recall some of the stories Jenny has heard about what she gets up to at the Warehouse.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I really appreciate your coming out like this," you tell her. "It's really sweet of you. I know I really should've just talked to Sienna direct, but—"<br/>
<br/>
Fatima laughs again: a very soft and throaty sound. "She can be kind of intimidating, can't she?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I wouldn't say <i>that.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't?" Fatima's almond-shaped eyes are hooded with amusement. "So why did you ask me instead of her?"<br/>
<br/>
You try not to blush. "Well, maybe I just didn't know how to spring the idea on her. I don't want to jinx anything for Eva and Jessica and them. So, you know." You shrug. "I thought it'd be better to ask one of her friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I am probably her best friend," she says, and she sounds a little smug as she makes the confession. "We're practically sisters." <br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Well then it's lucky I decided to ask you out. Oh, here we are," you say, for you've reached the open door to the studio.<br/>
<br/>
But Fatima stands back to let you go first. "Hey guys," you announce to the betas of Philip, Carlos, and Mike, who are standing just inside the door. "Look who—"<br/>
<br/>
That's all you have time to say before beta-Mike lunges at you. There's a mask in his hand.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, that was almost a disaster. Beta-Mike thought it was Fatima coming through the door, and with a squawk you had to jump aside even as he tried catching himself. Beta-Carlos shouted, and you squealed and ducked, and then there was a general rush on the doorway, and someone cudgeled you aside. As you pitch forward, trying to catch your balance, you hear a squawk and a shout from outside, and a lot of clomping, and finally one great <i>BOOM</i> like thunder as someone falls hard against the door of one of the units, hitting it like a sledgehammer hitting a tympani drum.<br/>
<br/>
When you look out into the hall again, you see that the betas have managed to catch Fatima. Beta-Mike is holding her in his arms while Beta-Carlos and Beta-Philip look on grimly. The former gives you a slit-eyed glare. "Jesus, don't you know how this is supposed to work?" he growls.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I did!"<br/>
<br/>
"She was supposed to come in first, and you were supposed to grab her from behind."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, someone could'a told me!"<br/>
<br/>
"We thought—"<br/>
<br/>
Philip waves his fellow beta to be silent. "It all worked out," he says as he pulls a slim iPhone from his back pocket. "I'll text the boss and tell him we're getting started. Open up the workout room, please."<br/>
<br/>
Beta-Carlos gives him a glare like the kind he gave you, but complies. Then he helps beta-Mike—who is slowly sagging under Fatima's dead weight—drag your soon-to-be alias inside and lays her on the bench.<br/>
<br/>
"You better get changed out," beta-Philip tells you. "We have to get the inside of your mask treated and onto Fatima before she wakes up."<br/>
<br/>
So you disrobe, which is <i>definitely</i> a creepy thing to do in front of the three beta, and you shiver hard as you lay back atop Carlos's foot locker. Beta-Philip bends over you and fumbles and fumbles at your face while muttering under his breath; you fight the urge to slap his hand away.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever he's doing, it's not working, though. Eventually he says, "Maybe you need to do it yourself," and gives you some mumbo-jumbo type words, then shows you how to place your hand over your brow and pull.<br/>
<br/>
You have to try it a couple of times yourself before you feel something ripping away from the front of your skull.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So you'll be able to get to Sienna for us?" Maria asks.<br/>
<br/>
"In theory," you reply as you fiddle with a long strand of hair and study yourself in the mirror. Fatima Zahedi startes back at you with an amused expression. "I'm her best friend," you continue, and don't even try to squeeze the smug tone out of your voice. "We're practically sisters."<br/>
<br/>
"How soon?"<br/>
<br/>
"A week, I'm afraid." You tug the jacket down so that it settles more comfortably. "I'm going out of town tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
Maria frowns. "What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"A funeral. Fatima's grandfather died. Her father got the phone call this afternoon."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211115111
author_id: seuzz
title: An Evening with Your New Best Friend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Andrea Varnsworth slumps deeper into the futon—the only real furniture in her very bare living room—and stretches out a long, slim, strong, and tapered leg. "So did you have fun at your granddad's funeral?" she asks with barely veiled insolence. <br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
It ruined your weekend, that funeral did. Fatima's family, with you in tow, flew out of Saratoga Falls on a Friday evening and flew back in today (the following Monday), giving you no real time off from school. "It was a funeral," you tell Andrea. "It wasn't a wake."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't they have wakes in Iran?"<br/>
<br/>
"We went to Montana. Why are you being so pouty?"<br/>
<br/>
Andrea lifts her face to give you a pouty look.<br/>
<br/>
The captain of the swim team just might be the sexiest girl at Westside. She's certainly the smokiest and the most mysterious. Where Chelsea Cooper and her type dress up and bounce around and flaunt and flounce their hair and their boobs and their smiles and their flirty personalities—all the better to be "popular"—Andrea slips through the crowded halls with her face averted and her eye turned inward. But she shows lots of bare leg and bare shoulders, which have been sculpted by years of laps in the school's pool, and torpedo-like breasts whose contours could hardly be more visible if she wetted down the thin t-shirts that she usually wears. But though there are rumors that guys have asked her out, there are no confirmed stories that she has ever said yes to them.<br/>
<br/>
"Am I being pouty, Fatima?" she asks you now in a small, soft (and pouty) voice. "I don't mean to be." She rolls her head around on her neck, and stretches her arms.<br/>
<br/>
My God, you could cut the sexual tension in here with a knife.<br/>
<br/>
You're really unsure what to do. It sure feels like this is a come-on, that Andrea is practically <i>begging</i> you to slide onto her lap and seek out her lips with yours.<br/>
<br/>
Because that might be one reason Andrea has never been on a confirmed date with any of the guys at school.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, she has never come out as gay or bisexual. (Andrea isn't likely to "come out" as anything. She is so private that sometimes she doesn't even answer to her own name.) And none of the girls who are out—including her friend Jelena—can confess to having done anything with her.<br/>
<br/>
So maybe Andrea isn't bisexual. <br/>
<br/>
Maybe she's just a ... Fatima-sexual?<br/>
<br/>
Although, God, really, what were the chances that in picking Fatima for a second beta you were picking maybe the one person at Westside who knows what it's like to feel the tips of Andrea Varnsworth's breasts inside her mouth, and who knows what Andreas lips and teeth feel like against the tips of her own breasts?<br/>
<br/>
"Is anyone else coming over?" you ask, playing for time. You have to stop yourself from twisting around on your feet.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Could be. You know Charles. He likes to show up."<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "What about Jelena?"<br/>
<br/>
Andrea lifts her face to again regard you with slightly raised eyebrows and slightly puckered lips. "Do you <i>want</i> me to get Jelena out here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus!" You pinch the bridge of your nose, then march over to glance into the bedroom hallway, the bathroom, and the kitchen, to confirm that it's just the two of you in the house.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you <i>fucking done,</i> Montoya?" you demand when you wheel back onto her. "Because now it's like you're just doing a goddamn <i>parody</i> of her!"<br/>
<br/>
Andrea—Carlos Montoya in a new disguise—gasps and her eyes pop. She stares at you.<br/>
<br/>
Then she covers her face and giggles through her fingers.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You got the news only an hour ago, just after getting home from the airport. You texted Maria Vasquez to say that you were back and could get together with her and the others to discuss plans. She called you back with two messages. The first was to erase every text from Fatima's phone that—like a text to Maria—could compromise your identity.<br/>
<br/>
The second was to tell you that all the swaps had already been taken care of in your absence.<br/>
<br/>
"We got it done Saturday afternoon," she told you. "Friday and Saturday. You weren't around to help, but we got a mask of Jelena Petrovic mounted onto Mike, and then he and Carlos maneuvered Kelsey and Sienna to where we could get masks onto them and then onto each other. If you want to hear all about it, go see your friend Andrea. Carlos took her as a secondary beta. Apparently Jelena and Sienna and, uh, Fatima like to hang out at Andrea's, so we judged it advisable that she be, um, repurposed as an observation post."<br/>
<br/>
Yeah, like that's the real reason Montoya wanted to turn himself in Andrea. So he could be a fucking "observation post."<br/>
<br/>
You drove out to Andrea's. She was alone, and it was obvious from the way she greeted you that Carlos was trying to pretend that Andrea was still herself. <br/>
<br/>
But now that you've got things out in the open—<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck me," Andrea groans, and stretches again. "Was I laying it on too thick?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just a little." You're tempted to ask if she wants to have your debriefing session in bed, under the covers, with the lights low and your clothes off. But you decide to keep things professional. "But I talked to Maria, <i>she</i> told me it was you."<br/>
<br/>
"Bitch never lets us have any real fun." Andrea levers herself to her feet. "You want something to eat? I have a raisin-and-carrot salad and some goat cheese." She casts another hooded glance over her shoulder as she turns to the kitchen. "I seem to recall it's a recipe that <i>you</i> gave me, Fatima."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Jesus.</i> Maybe you should put your hands onto her and get it over with. It sounds like Carlos isn't going to stop until you do. But you just follow her into the kitchen, with your eyes glued to her behind.<br/>
<br/>
Andrea's kitchen is a tiny thing, with hardly room for two people to turn around in between the sink, the refrigerator, and a short countertop. Andrea puts her butt out as she leans into the refrigerator, forcing you to jump back. She pulls out a large porcelain bowl and a plate with crusty blocks of ... something or other. <i>Oh, yeah. Toasted goat cheese.</i> Andrea gives you another veiled look before setting the dishes on the counter.<br/>
<br/>
"So how are the girls handling their new identities?" you ask as she fetches down some serving bowls.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know about Sienna," Andrea replies. "I mean the real girl, the one we put Kelsey's mask on. Saturday night was probably fun for her, though." She titters as she scoops some salad into the bowls. "Saturday nights are when Kelsey has her clambakes, and she would have had to run it without knowing what she was doing."<br/>
<br/>
She hands you a bowl. A scent at once strange and familiar drifts from it: warm, earthy, and spicy. <i>Cinnamon,</i> you remember. You take a small bite. <i>Just like mom makes.</i><br/>
<br/>
"And I didn't see anyone until school today," Andrea continues. "I hid out all day Sunday. That's when I made my own switch, you know. But Mike babysat the new Sienna all weekend. Philip told you that Mike's being Jelena?" You nod. "We could get him out here, him and Sienna, if you're so interested. Or—" She draws a deep breath, so that her chest swells. <br/>
<br/>
That's all you can take. If Carlos isn't trying to get you into bed, then he can't blame you for misreading the signals. You set your bowl on the counter, grab, her by the hips and pinch the side of her neck with your teeth.<br/>
<br/>
She gasps and flinches. For a horrible moment, you're sure you've miscalculated.<br/>
<br/>
Then she lets out a shuddering breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Why, Fatima," she says. "I think that funeral left you horny."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div> <br/>
In bed, she takes the bottom and you take the top, your legs entwined, rubbing each other's pussies with your thighs and hips. You take a few minutes to nibble on the tips of her breasts, then stretch out over her so she can return the favor onto your own dangling breasts. After you're tingling and flushed all over, you embrace tightly, kissing each other's necks and the tops of your shoulders. You scrape bare skins until the sweat springs out. But it seems to take hours before you feel an overtopping rush deep within, and then you seize Andrea's hands and guide her questing fingers down between your legs. You sit up and arch your back as she pushes them inside you. The orgasm, when it comes, is like the breaching of a dike, and all the pent-up nervous energies come gushing out and down and out and out. You're almost afraid to open your eyes and look when you're done, for fear of finding that you've flooded Andrea with gallons of bodily fluids.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever you have done to her, you do feel the need to retreat to the bathroom to wash and clean up when you're done.<br/>
<br/>
When you emerge, Andrea is dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and sitting on the futon again. You pull your own clothes on again and curl up inside the crook of her arm. She kisses your forehead. She says nothing, and for your part you're too freaked out by what you just did to say anything either.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, though, you ask again about Fairfax and the others, and whether they'll be taking secondary betas.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think Josiah or Keith will," he says. "They're not really into this project. And Keith already has a secondary beta."<br/>
<br/>
That's right. Seth, though it doesn't sound like Keith is doing anything with him.<br/>
<br/>
"But Philip's already talking about experimenting with us taking a third beta. We still need someone to watch Sienna."</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111151112
author_id: seuzz
title: School Days with Sienna Goldman
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll worry about the other girls tomorrow," you tell Andrea, and snuggle up closer to her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"God, I don't want to go to school today!" Sienna Goldman exclaims as she clambers into the passenger-side seat of your car. "Fuck!" She shudders all over.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it would be better to say that she "bristles" all over. There's something kittenish about Sienna. The pert nose, the alert eyes, the slightly pointed ears, all of them set off by her bobbed hair. But if she's a kitten, she's one with a Goth sensibilities.<br/>
<br/>
Though is she wearing fewer piercings than usual? You only have time for a quick glance before you pull smoothly back into the street, but you have the impression that there's less metal on her face than usual.<br/>
<br/>
Perhaps it was a compromise she made with herself. You can no more imagine Kelsey Blankenship with piercings than you can imagine Sienna Goldman without them.<br/>
<br/>
"I hate Tuesdays too," you reply as you steer north toward the interstate. It's the wrong way to get to school, but it's the fastest way out of Sienna's crack-house infested neighborhood. "I hate them worse than Mondays. It's like—"<br/>
<br/>
Sienna interrupts you with a snort. She slumps in her seat, then suddenly rounds on you. "Oh, hey, sorry to hear about your granddad," she says, sounding not the least bit sorry. "Did he go fast, at least?"<br/>
<br/>
You mull the question, puzzled less by the answer than the challenge of figuring out whether this is Kelsey letting herself shine out from beneath Sienna's mask, or it's Kelsey trying to act like Sienna. Kelsey, in your experience, only fakes an interest in other people's problems; Sienna, in Fatima's experience, usually is interested in other people's problems but can't be bothered to fake it when she isn't. "Fast enough," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I'm being a bitch this morning. Gonna be one all day, probably. God!" She rounds on you again. "Can you keep Jelena off me at school? Please?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep her off you?" you echo. "What do you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep her distracted, I mean. I don't want to talk to her, don't want to deal with her. She was all over me this weekend." She shudders again.<br/>
<br/>
Fatima's equivalent of Spider-sense tingles. "All over you like how?" <br/>
<br/>
"Like a rash." Sienna brushes her arm.<br/>
<br/>
"Did she do something to you?"<br/>
<br/>
Your scalp prickles harder as Sienna hesitates, and as you give her sidelong glances you have the impression she's struggling to overcome a reluctance to say something.<br/>
<br/>
But she only slumps deeper in her seat. "She was just being extra creepy," she says. "And for <i>me</i> to say <i>that</i> about someone? Well, think how bad she must've been."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She refuses to amplify on or explain that last remark, although you as a good friend gently press her to share. At school, she insists on lounging by the tennis courts before class instead of hanging out near the theater wing, which is where you and she (and Jelena!) typically hang out. She has to stop by her locker first—dragging you with her—and you can't help but notice that on the way in she takes a quick peek inside Mr. Walberg's class.<br/>
<br/>
That little detour—into the classroom where Kelsey Blankenship has her first period class—is enough to put you on alert for second period, where you and Sienna reunite for an English class. The two of you sit in the far back corner, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as Sienna elaborately busies herself with taking out and arranging her books and pens and paper. She is so concentrated on them that she doesn't even pause or look up as Kelsey Blankenship sweeps in.<br/>
<br/>
You try not to stare.<br/>
<br/>
You've seen Kelsey dressed up before, but today she seems to glow. She's in a black leather skirt and a royal purple blouse that—if Fatima's eye is to be trusted—is made of silk. Silver studs peek out from behind the long, carefully combed strands of her shoulder-length brunette hair, and a matching silver bracelet, like an armband, flashes on her left wrist. With a sweep of her hand she directs two of her flunkies—Brooke Galloway and Ricky Golia—into their seats. She doesn't take her own, though, but stretches over it to brush Dean Stratton (one of the scruffier members of the class) along the side of his face with a tapering finger. She gives him an open-mouthed smile and says something you can't catch; sweeps her hair back behind one shoulder to show your side of the class her profile; then, like a gymnast nailing a perfect landing, drops into her seat with her bag in her lap. She pulls out her own supplies, drops the bag beneath the desk, and settles back to twirl a silver pen between her fingers.<br/>
<br/>
Sienna, you notice, keeps her own face ducked as she busily searches through her backpack for ... something that she fails to find before Mrs. Goretsky calls the class to order.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Where you guys been?" Jelena Petrovic asks when she finds you and Sienna at a table in the cafeteria at lunch time. She drapes her hands on Sienna's shoulders. "I missed you third period."<br/>
<br/>
You bite your tongue. Third period is the study hall that you and Sienna have together, and usually you take it in the back of the school theater, where you can quietly talk while watching the drama teacher, Mr. Wilkes, put Jelena and Charles Hartlein and the rest of the Advanced Acting class through their paces. <br/>
<br/>
But today Sienna dragged you to the other side of campus, to the orchestra room, to sit very quietly in a corner with your cell phones while Mrs. Heinz conducted a music theory class with a dozen students. It was an odd choice, and you could only assume she picked it for its maximum distance from Jelena.<br/>
<br/>
She's very snippy with her friend now: "We were trying out some new hangouts," snaps. Jelena freezes, then withdraws her hands, and moves around to sit on the other side of you. She nudges you, and gives you a knowing glance.<br/>
<br/>
Sienna is kittenish, and there is something very cat-like about Jelena, too. Only she has the taut and coiled maturity of an older cat—a hunter and a stalker. She is dark and lean, but she's got a bright smile, and when it and her eyes light up it's like a spotlight has settled on her shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
"Are we hanging out at Andrea's after school?" she asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you say. You look between her and Sienna. "Maybe we should ask Andrea if—"<br/>
<br/>
"Or we could all go out to the Warehouse," Jelena interrupts. "I could get K.C. and the others to go out there with us. We have that gig Friday night, and we should—"<br/>
<br/>
"You can do whatever you want, Jelena," Sienna says, leaning heavily on the name. She puts her face into her tray and shovels up some more food. <br/>
<br/>
Jelena nudges you again, then gets up and saunters over to the food line.<br/>
<br/>
You glance again between her and Sienna, then drop your utensils to hurry after her.<br/>
<br/>
"She's been pissy ever since Saturday," Jelena says as she pushes her tray along, picking up food.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you blame her?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But I think we were all hoping for something more interesting from her than, 'My new life sucks and I'm gonna take it out on you guys'."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she hasn't been pissy with me."<br/>
<br/>
"No?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not so much. She does say she's sick of hanging out with <i>you</i>, though. Apparently, you've been hovering," you add as Jelena looks at you in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just trying to keep her from panicking." She glances back over her shoulder at Sienna. "But if you want to take over the baby-sitting duties—"<br/>
<br/>
"I think maybe I should."<br/>
<br/>
"Aw!" Jelena's exclamation, and the quick hug she gives you, catch you by surprise. "You're such a good friend, Fatima!"<br/>
<br/>
"Bite me," you mutter back.<br/>
<br/>
She snickers. "Uh huh," she says. Then she leans in close to murmur in your ear. "Andrea's told me <i>all about</i> how much you like the biting and the getting bit, Fatima," she says, leaning on your name as hard as Sienna had leaned on hers. "So when you get tired of Sienna, maybe you and I could go up to the Warehouse and—"<br/>
<br/>
Her arm is still around your waist, and delicately she pinches the side of your hip.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"She did <i>what?</i>" Maria Vasquez asks you. Her eyes pop with astonishment.<br/>
<br/>
School is over, but she has asked you to linger. You're in the corner of the eighth period classroom that you share with her. (Bizarrely, it's an AP science class. Fairfax would fit in there. But Maria? Really?) She asked you about your day, and listened with absorbed interest as you told her about the tensions between Sienna and Jelena, and looked impressed when you describe Sienna's studied indifference toward Kelsey in second period.<br/>
<br/>
But now she's acting like you just threw a firecracker in her face, when all you did was mention the way that Sienna snagged Karl Hennepin at the end of third-period study hall, and talked to him with bright interest for a couple of minutes as he was leaving his music theory class.<br/>
<br/>
"I said we hung out in the orchestra room third period," you repeat. "And she talked to Karl Hennepin afterward.<br/>
<br/>
"That." Maria jabs you in the chest with a sharp fingernail. "What did they talk about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Nothing. Just, 'Hey, interesting class. Didn't know you were into music. Think I should take it, you know I play in a band.' Why?"<br/>
<br/>
Maria compresses her lips until they vanish. "Because Karl is Kelsey's boyfriend," she says. "Her <i>secret</i> boyfriend," she emphasizes.<br/>
<br/>
Then she gives you a speculative look. "Which might make him a good point from which to surveil both girls," she says.</span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111511122
author_id: seuzz
title: Secret Boyfriend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Kelsey Blankenship has a secret boyfriend?</i> You grip Maria's arm so hard that she winces and tries to pull away. "What's the story?" you squeal. "About Kelsey and Karl, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
She grimaces. "So I guess Fatima and her friends aren't plugged into the same grapevine as everyone else," she sighs. <br/>
<br/>
You squeeze her harder. She finally gives.<br/>
<br/>
For at least a month now, she tells you, Kelsey and Karl have been hooking up secretly outside of school, and by "hooking up" (when you challenge the phrase) she means <i>hooking up,</i> as in, <i>checking into sleazy motel rooms and denting the walls with the headboards.</i> <br/>
<br/>
"At least, that's the talk," she says. "Well, it's not just <i>talk</i> about the motel rooms. As for how, mm, <i>raucous</i> they get—"<br/>
<br/>
"How is this a secret," you demand, "if people are talking about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kelsey thinks it's a secret. Karl's been telling everyone who'd listen." She gives you a look. "Really, Will, you hadn't heard? Either you or, uh, Fatima? Even Carlos and Mike and the rest of us knew about it."<br/>
<br/>
You ignore the jibe. "So how does Kelsey think it's a secret?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, because everyone's too scared to tell her to her face? That everyone knows what she and Karl are up to? You know, they don't even <i>talk</i> to each other inside the school." She pauses, and a shadow clouds her eyes as her gaze turns inward. "Chelsea says it's because Kelsey feels like she's slumming."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.</i> Chelsea Cooper chooses that exact moment to stride into the classroom with a vexed frown. "Maria," she says. "The hell are you doing in here?" She gives you a quick, sniffy look. "Hi, uh, Fatima. Maria! The guys are already dressing out for practice, I've been waiting for you at my locker only for, like—" She pulls out her cell phone to check the time.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, Chelsea," Maria singsongs. "Talk to you later, Fatima?"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you even doing in the science wing?" Chelsea asks with a shudder as she pulls her friend toward the door. "All the nerd gas can't be good for the skin."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes,</i> you wonder, and it's not the first time Fatima has wondered about it. <i>What is the famously airheaded Maria Vasquez doing in an AP Forensic Science class?</i> Charles Hartlein says it's because her dad is on the school board, and it would look bad if his daughter was only taking Home Ec and Parenting classes. Fatima is sure that can't be it, but she can't figure out another story, either.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chelsea wasn't the only one waiting impatiently for you and Maria. Sienna is leaning against your car in the parking lot, and she glares at you through the smoke of her cigarette.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you gave those up," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
She tosses the butt away. "Don't start with me, Fatima."<br/>
<br/>
So she's got her quills out. You keep your thoughts to yourself until you're out on Borman, then suggest that the two of you hang out at your house. "Just the two of us," you add.<br/>
<br/>
Instead of relaxing, Sienna seems to tense. But she says, "That'd be fine."<br/>
<br/>
All the way back to your house you wrack your brain for a way of broaching the subject of Karl Hennepin. Not until you and she are back in your bedroom, sprawled out with some homework, do you lunge at the topic directly. <br/>
<br/>
"So," you say, with your heart in your throat. "Were you flirting with Karl in the music room this morning?"<br/>
<br/>
Sienna's face falls as she raises her head. "What?" she demands with staring eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just making girl talk, Sienna."<br/>
<br/>
"What the—? I don't— Why would—?" she sputters. "Why would you even ask that?" she finally stammers out.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe just the way you went up to him and started talking?" You try smiling through the fog of fear that you feel enveloping your face.<br/>
<br/>
"I can talk to guys!" Sienna protests with a deepening blush. "I don't have to—! It wasn't flirting!"<br/>
<br/>
"Chill out, Sienna." You force a laugh. "I'm just asking if— Well, did you hang out with any guys this weekend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fah! What does that—? I had Jelena all on my neck all weekend!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's gotta be a first for you. No wonder you're pissed off at her."<br/>
<br/>
Her blush is now deepening from a cherry red to a plum purple. "Are you fucking calling me a slut or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you're one to talk! You know, every time you go out to the Warehouse, you wind up upstairs with two or three—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not calling you a slut, Sienna! Jeez!" You strangle the urge to jump out the window to safety. "I'm sorry I said you were 'flirting' with Karl. I was just, you know, wondering if you were interested in him. You know, you're allowed to!" you add when Sienna just stares back at you, breathing raggedly. "He's cute. He's smart. He looks good in those torn jeans and that sweater he was wearing."<br/>
<br/>
"Do <i>you</i> want him?"<br/>
<br/>
You give her a look, then change your mind about denying the accusation.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sure," you say. "If he's <i>yours</i> to give away. But you saw him first."<br/>
<br/>
You hold her eye for a long time with a forced smile, until she finally looks away. She digs at her notebook with the tip of her pencil, until the paper tears.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well," she says. "I do need a date for the Warehouse this weekend."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, there you go," you say. "That's all I was wondering. LIke, if you were trying to set something up with him this weekend."<br/>
<br/>
Sienna gives you a mulish look, and goes back to digging the pencil into the notebook. Abruptly, she lunges to her feet and stalks from the room. She's gone for maybe fifteen minutes—long enough for you to start worrying—then returns with a face that shines from being scrubbed.<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if she went into the bathroom to have a good cry.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't talk any more about Karl. In fact, you don't talk much more about anything. She stays for dinner, and she's a lot more talkative at the table where your mother and father—who treat her as a kind of prodigal daughter—dote on her. But she lapses again into a moody silence when supper is over, and asks you to take her home. "Are you sure?" you ask, for there's no one at home that she would want to see or deal with, and after a moment's thought she asks you to take her out to Nadine Martin's house.<br/>
<br/>
You hope you haven't spent all your credit with her, the way Jelena seems to have.<br/>
<br/>
And, thinking of Jelena, as you are, after dropping off Sienna you text her to see about getting together for a talk.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sure, I can fucking sympathize with her," Jelena says of Sienna after you've driven out to meet her on the university campus. "I mean, look at my situation."<br/>
<br/>
Her situation is roughly Sienna's: an abusive family that doesn't live in a rat-hole so much as it <i>infests</i> it. The difference is that Jelena's was so bad that she moved out and moved in with her sister, who's a college student. That's why, for privacy's sake, you're pacing the darkened quad in front of the college administration building, moving from one pool of streetlight to the next while huddling close to each other. "But," Jelena continues, "that's no reason for her to be a bitch to me."<br/>
<br/>
"How much experience have you had with Kelsey?" you ask. She shrugs. "Because Kelsey is a bitch to everyone. You roll one bitch up inside another bitch and— Oh my God!" You stop short and blink. "Kelsey and Sienna!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Jelena says. When you don't reply, she says, "You know, I wouldn't call Sienna a <i>bitch,</i> not when she's got reason to—"<br/>
<br/>
"No one's keeping an eye on Sienna. I mean, the real one."<br/>
<br/>
Jelena's expression is unreadable in the dark, but you can tell she's not smiling as she says, "Yeah, and Philip wants us to do something about that."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what I mean is—"<br/>
<br/>
Except you're not sure what you mean. Only you've suddenly got a feeling like you get when you leave home and then start worrying that maybe you left the curling iron plugged in. (Which itself is a thought that give you momentary pause. Will Prescott never worried about leaving no curling iron plugged in; Fatima Zahedi has.) It's the horrible feeling that you've let something important slip.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey and Karl are secretly going out together. But now it will be Sienna (as Kelsey) secretly going out with Karl. Yet another thing that Kelsey will have lost when you and your friends traded her life for another's.<br/>
<br/>
Then you remember something else: Kelsey and Dean Stratton, She was flirting with him in second period today!<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so?" Jelena asks when you tell her about it. "Doesn't Kelsey flirt with guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's supposed to be going out with Karl Hennepin! That's what Fairfax told me this afternoon. He told me that <i>all</i> you guys know about it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe she'll break it off with him," Jelena says, still sounding unimpressed. "It would totally be for the best for both of them, you know. Well, for Karl. Dude's all fucked up in the head, from what I hear, because Kelsey won't be seen in public with him."<br/>
<br/>
"But we're gonna switch Kelsey and Sienna back at some point, right? What'll it be like for Kelsey if she goes back to being herself, but she's not with Karl anymore?"<br/>
<br/>
Jelena shrugs. "Maybe she'll have learned not to fuck around with guys like that."<br/>
<br/>
Even after you tell her about "Sienna" flirting with Karl in school, Mike doesn't seem much worried. He only says (sounding like Fairfax) that the drama sounds "interesting."<br/>
<br/>
Is it the influence of Fatima's personality that leaves you feeling like it's less "interesting" and more "dangerous"?</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211115111223
author_id: seuzz
title: A Triangle with Two Identical Corners
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't say anything more to Mike about your worries, but when you wake up the next morning you realize that you have every intention of busting up Kelsey Blankenship (both the real one the fake one) with Karl Hennepin.<br/>
<br/>
How you're going to manage it, of course, is another matter entirely.<br/>
<br/>
But even before you get to school, you discover that the universe has decided to make it as tough as possible for you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey," Sienna says as she leaps into your car. "I've been thinking about what we were talking about yesterday, about Karl."<br/>
<br/>
"Good morning to you too," you retort as you pull out into the street, narrowly dodging the homeless meth addict loitering in front of Sienna's apartment building.<br/>
<br/>
"How well do you know Karl?" she continues.<br/>
<br/>
"Karl?" You grip the steering wheel more tightly. "I know him to talk to."<br/>
<br/>
"But don't you know him better than that?" she pleads. "You're both into art. Sculptures and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know he's into art?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Oh." Sienna flinches. "Well, I've seen his stuff," she stammers. "He brought a piece in to school last year? I think? I know I saw him with something or other. Don't you have a class with him or something? You're taking, like, fifty art classes this year."<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you going with this, Sienna?" you ask, as if you didn't know.<br/>
<br/>
She grabs you by the upper arm.<br/>
<br/>
"I want to go out with him," she tells you. "Friday night," she hurriedly adds. "I want to go out with him someplace. I was hoping you could talk me up to him?" Her fingers tighten about your arm like she's trying to pinch it off.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, first of all, Sienna," you reply through your grimace, "I don't know him that well. Not, like, well enough that I can 'talk you up', like my opinion would mean anything to him. And second of all—" You try twisting out of her grip, but she's got her fingernails in you. "You should be doing the asking yourself. You know? And since when do you have trouble talking to guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Karl's not just any guy," she protests. "He's, like, I dunno." Finally she releases you, and hunches up in her side of the car. "Okay, he's better than anyone else I've tried going out with," she blurts out.<br/>
<br/>
Maria's words from yesterday come back to you: <i>Chelsea says that Kelsey thinks she's slumming with Karl.</i> So what does it say about Kelsey's opinion of Sienna, that she's fallen from a world where going with Karl is "slumming," to one where he's too good for her?<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you are insulted on Sienna's behalf. But then you decide that this is something you can use.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I've been thinking about Karl too," you tell her, "and I'm not sure it's a good idea to try going out with him."<br/>
<br/>
Sienna bristles. "Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because—"<br/>
<br/>
But the phrase <i>Like you said, you're too low-class for him,</i> now that you've come to it, refuse to form in your mouth. As a desperate expedient, you make a detour. "He's not available," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"I started asking around about him," you improvise. "After you went home. I started calling around, asking people about him." You take your eyes off the traffic long enough to give her a direct look. "He's got a girlfriend, Sienna."<br/>
<br/>
Sienna makes a noise in the back of her throat. Then she says, through frozen lips, "No he doesn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes he does. I mean, it's not—"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't heard anyone talk about him having a girlfriend," she exclaims in a shrill tone. "I haven't seen him around with anyone. And this isn't like some sudden thing I just suddenly decided," she adds in a rush. "I've, well—" She swallows. "I've had kind of a crush on him for awhile now," she stammers, "and—"<br/>
<br/>
"He's going out with Kelsey Blankenship," you blurt. "They're going out together," you add into the numb silence that Sienna returns.<br/>
<br/>
After a long moment, Sienna says, "Who told you that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maria Vasquez," you reply after running through about five hundred other possible names in your head before settling on the truth. "I was talking to her after class yesterday, and she said something that made me wonder, so after you and I talked, I called her back and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Maria Vasquez?" Sienna exclaims. "That <i>fucking airhead?</i> How the <i>fuck</i> could she know what she's talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"She said she heard it from Chelsea Cooper."<br/>
<br/>
The click in Sienna's throat as she swallows is loud enough to sound like a gun cocking. <br/>
<br/>
"She said that Kelsey and Karl are going out, but that Kelsey is trying to keep it a secret. She said—" You hesitate, then pound in the nail: "She said they're doing it in cheap motel rooms."<br/>
<br/>
Sienna gapes, then wheels with her arms crossed to stare out the passenger-side window. You let  her steam against it for a moment before continuing, softly: "If it's that serious between them, Sienna, I don't think—"<br/>
<br/>
"If it's serious between them," she snarls, "why is Kelsey keeping it a secret? I mean, if they're going to motel rooms, and that's all, then it just sounds like they're, you know—" She chokes on the phrase before forcing it out. "Fuck buddies." A hard shudder runs through her, and she hunches up even tighter in her seat.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if that's true," you start to say without knowing how to finish the sentence.<br/>
<br/>
But Sienna finishes it for you. "If that's true," she says in a rush, "then I can ask him out, can't I? There's nothing stopping me. Maybe he's ready for a change." She sniffs hard, and it staggers you to realize that she's on the verge of bursting into tears. "Anyway, if I don't know that he's going out with— with anyone—" Again, she sniffs. "Then he shouldn't be surprised if I ask him. And, like, what's the worst that can happen? He'll just tell me he's seeing— someone already—" She breaks off before she can totally lose it.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but what if Kelsey finds out you asked him? I get the impression she's pretty goddamn possessive, Sienna. If she caught you trying to take her boyfriend away, even if he's just her fuck buddy, well, it might be like trying to take a chew toy away from a Doberman."<br/>
<br/>
You have to fight to keep from smiling. It feels so good to tell Kelsey to her (false) face that she's a grasping bitch.<br/>
<br/>
She freezes you out for the rest of the drive, and doesn't even look at you after you park and get out to go into the school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But that's not the only curveball the universe throws at you. At the beginning of fourth period, as you're shoving your way through the crowded hallway toward your home ec class, you look up to see Kelsey Blankenship herself (well, the facsimile) loitering at the classroom door. She looks directly at you, and smiles.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Fatima," she says with lazy insouciance. "I was waiting for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Hi, Kelsey," you return. You're not even sure that Kelsey is supposed to know who Fatima is. "What's up?"<br/>
<br/>
She leans against the door jamb, and tosses her long, brunette hair so that it cascades down her back. She's dressed in white today: a short, snowy, pleated skirt whose hem bounces off the middle of her thighs, and a sleeveless top that's closer to the color of parchment. You can't help but notice how dark her limbs are, darker than they should for mid-October. She must be putting herself under a sun lamp or something.<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to hang out with you this period," she says. "I've got study hall."<br/>
<br/>
"I've got class." You glance into the home ec room in order to emphasize the point.<br/>
<br/>
"Tch. It's just a food class, right? You can skip." She reaches out to tweak a lock of your hair. "I want us to start hanging out, you know." She gives you an admiring glance up and down. "You're so <i>stylish,</i> Fatima."<br/>
<br/>
Would Fatima skip Ms. Duggan's Food Preparation class to hang out with Kelsey? You're not sure what the real girl would do, but you've got your own reasons for saying "Yes."<br/>
<br/>
So you follow her into the library, curious to see what Sienna Goldman, in the guise of Kelsey Blankenship, has to say to her best friend.<br/>
<br/>
The answer, it turns out, is "Not much." It's an awkward hour that passes, monopolized by Kelsey as she asks you lots of questions about yourself and squeals over the answers, and prattles about how cool you are and why is that you haven't hung out very much before? "You have to come out to my place next Saturday," she tells you. "I have a party every Saturday, you know, just a little thing where me and all my friends can hang out." She grasps you by the arm. "You need to come, you'd fit in so perfect."<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't help that you have to endure all this in the company of your ex-girlfriend, Lisa Yarborough, who is sharing her study hall with Kelsey.<br/>
<br/>
But the capper comes when the hour is finally over, and you all get up to go to lunch. "I'd ask you to come with," Kelsey says. "Oh, but Lisa, you can take Fatima in with you to the cafeteria, right?" Lisa nods. Kelsey puts her hand on your arm. "Only, I'm going off today to be with my S. O."<br/>
<br/>
"Your S. O.?" you echo as your heart plunges.<br/>
<br/>
"Karl Hennepin," she says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And that just about tears it. When Maria asks you after school if you'd be up for taking a third beta, you're sorely tempted to give him the name of a girl you can use to seduce Karl away from Kelsey and Sienna.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111151112232
author_id: seuzz
title: The Trouble with Karl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"How many betas are we supposed to finally get?" <br/>
<br/>
You must have barked the question, because Maria blanches. "I was just asking if you're interested in getting a third one, Will," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I've got enough to deal with just having two of them! In fact—!" You make a face as you realize you've totally lost touch with Jenny and with your own beta since last Friday. "No way I need a third one!"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright." Maria raises her hands. "You can chill out now."<br/>
<br/>
"My life's complicated enough," you grumble as you hike your bag onto your shoulders. "I'll talk to you later." You're just passing through the door when your phone chimes with a text.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"This is nice," Andrea says. She throws a leg over your naked hip, and brushes a strand of hair from your face.<br/>
<br/>
You snuggle up closer to her, and throw the sheet off your shoulder. "You're sure Charles isn't going to show up?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm not. But the door's locked."<br/>
<br/>
You groan, and bury your face in the pillow between you.<br/>
<br/>
You knew what the invitation was for when you read the text, even though it said nothing but <i>hang out w me this afternoon just too of us?</i> You barely got in the door before Andrea was pulling you into a close embrace to rub her nose and mouth into your temple. Holding each other, you stumbled back into her bedroom, to disrobe and climb into bed.<br/>
<br/>
But that's where things ground to a halt. So far you've just caressed and kissed each other in a slow, lingering way, with lots of pauses and rests in between.<br/>
<br/>
So when Andrea says, "You seem tense," you prop up on one elbow to give her a direct look.<br/>
<br/>
"Is Andrea's life complicated?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She blinks once, slowly, and says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"The thing with Sienna and Kelsey," you continue. "Have they been over here? Either one of them?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," she replies. "I don't ever talk to Kelsey."<br/>
<br/>
"She hasn't started talking to you? I mean, since the switch?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. And I feel kind of like Sienna's been avoiding me."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "She's been avoiding Jelena too. Did Mike tell you? Well, she is, and I've been taking up the slack. Which is okay," you groan, "I guess, if we're supposed to be, you know, watching to see what she does. Have you heard about it all?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretend I haven't."<br/>
<br/>
So you tell it, all of it, about the new Sienna chasing Kelsey's boyfriend, and the new Kelsey wanting to be your best friend.<br/>
<br/>
She snickers at the last bit. "I guess it makes sense," she says. "Like she wants to share her new life with her old friend. And she's right, you know." She lightly brushes your bare shoulder. "You are very stylish."<br/>
<br/>
"What<i>ever,</i> man. But it's them and Karl I'm worried about."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because they're both fighting over the same guy."<br/>
<br/>
"So? It's what girls do."<br/>
<br/>
"But not like this! Now that Kelsey's Sienna, she actually <i>wants</i> to go out with Karl? And Sienna also wants to go out with him, now that she's Kelsey?"<br/>
<br/>
Andrea smiles. "That's what makes it all so interesting."<br/>
<br/>
"People keep using that word! <i>Interesting!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Because it is." She flips onto her stomach. "I wish I was in on these scenes, but I told you, it's like Sienna's been avoiding me. But you've got a ring-side seat. You need to start keeping notes, Philip's gonna want a full report."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus!" You fling yourself onto your back to stare at the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
Andrea lets you stew, then clambers atop you. <br/>
<br/>
"What are you so worked up about?" She brushes your face with her fingertips. "It was your idea to do the 'Freaky Friday' thing to people. What did you think was going to happen when we did?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you admit. "I guess I figured that people would just try to be their new selves."<br/>
<br/>
"And where would be the fun in that?" she asks in a pouty voice. She kisses you, but you don't kiss her back. "Maybe you're just stressed out because you don't feel like you're getting enough help from the rest of us?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think that's it. I think—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you do need our help," she declares as she sits up. "Besides, I want to see first hand what's going on. I'll get Karl to come out here, him and a couple of his friends. You can talk to him, get his side of things."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" You sit up sharply as she gets out of bed.<br/>
<br/>
But she's already out the bedroom door, without even bothering to put on a robe or a shirt or even her panties.<br/>
<br/>
She's gone for a very long time, and hasn't returned when her phone, which sitting on the end table by the bed, chimes with a text. Bored, and wanting to see what it's about, you pick it up.<br/>
<br/>
It's from Charles Hartlein: <i>Just hanging around outside your door, Drea.</i> You groan.<br/>
<br/>
And you groan again when the follow-up text appears: <i>I know you're there cos your phone just went off the once.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To make it worse, Andrea uses Charles's arrival as an excuse to follow through on her threat to bring out Hennepin, for Karl and Andrea, through Charles, have mutual friends. You wind up texting your parents to tell them you'll be eating out.<br/>
<br/>
By six o'clock there's nearly a dozen people crowded into Andrea's house, which is way more than usually shows up there on a weekday. Charles is in his element, picking the music out of Andrea's mom's tower of old CDs, and bullying some of the guys into going out and bringing back Greek takeout. As for who has shown up:<br/>
<br/>
There's Adrian Semple, the mop-headed pot-smoker who is Charles's sometime bed-mate. Connor Davison, the guy that the fake Kelsey was flirting with in your English class. (You wonder if Karl knows about that, and what he would say about it.) Emily Sparks, a hobbit-sized girl in a beret and black-framed hipster glasses. Ceres Kesey, an elfin blonde who dresses like a Sixties-era flower child.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's Karl and his crew. (And to call them "his crew" seems right, for he seems to be the dominant personality among them.) Kevin Winkler, a weedy-looking nerd whose head seems too big for his undernourished body. Andy Tackett, who with his trim physique, close-shorn hair, and worn-out hoodie looks like he ought to be on the basketball squad. Tim Gerard, a shaggy-headed poet with puppy-dog eyes. And Mia DeWitt, a girl in a rainbow-hued woolen hat and scarf that was obviously hand-knit by a relative.<br/>
<br/>
You drift from one to another, doing your best to avoid Karl. But when Andrea sends him into the back yard to cut a few herbs to go with the takeout, she also pushes you outside with him.<br/>
<br/>
"So I don't see you out here at Andrea's that much," you say as he snips off some parsley. It's a lame opening, and you're glad that he's not looking up at you as you hover over his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Nope," he agrees. <i>Snip, snip.</i> "Are you out here a lot?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I hang out. Me and Sienna are here a lot. You know Sienna, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He twists around to give you a quick, even look. "You and her hung out in the music room yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"I hope we didn't bother you."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't bother <i>me.</i>" <i>Snip, snip.</i> "Weird place to hang out for your study hall, though."<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't my idea, it was Sienna's."<br/>
<br/>
He twists around to give you another look. "She told me it was your idea."<br/>
<br/>
"Um—"<br/>
<br/>
Before you can come up with some reply, he straightens up and turns, bumping into you. Standing only inches apart this way, you can't help realizing just how tall he is.<br/>
<br/>
Well, he's not a giant or anything. He's only six-foot-one, maybe, but that's tall enough. He also has a great poof of curly hair, like the head of a dandelion, which makes him look even taller. And on top of that he's perched a felt fedora.<br/>
<br/>
There's also the way he's holding himself, with his chin in the air so that he has to look down his nose at you. But there's nothing arrogant or supercilious in his stare, and his mouth hangs open in a half-smile.<br/>
<br/>
"You're taking art classes," he informs you when you don't follow up that "um." "I hear you're pretty good."<br/>
<br/>
"Um."<br/>
<br/>
"I couldn't fit any art classes into my schedule this semester. I have to do it on my own. I have a studio out in back of my house."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. We should hang out some weekend, work on our projects together."<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be fun," you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you serious?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Sure. I guess."<br/>
<br/>
His smile twitches just a little wider.<br/>
<br/>
"I was hoping you'd say that," he says.<br/>
<br/>
Then, before you can ask why he was hoping that, he tosses the herbs to the ground, grasps you by the shoulders, and bends to kiss you full on the mouth.<br/>
<br/>
Your astonishment at his action is nothing beside your astonishment at your own reaction.<br/>
<br/>
You don't pull away.</span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111154
author_id: seuzz
title: To Strike at the King
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There's no way you can talk the others into going along with swapping Geoff Mansfield with someone. You're not interested in their private vendettas, so why would they be interested in yours?<br/>
<br/>
And tempers seem short. Chelsea is flushed, Maria's mouth is a grim line, and Jessica has her hands clenched at her temples.<br/>
<br/>
Someone needs an ally. You decide to side with Josiah.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's go with, uh, Chelsea's idea," you blurt out. "Swap Gordon with someone."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we should sleep on it, Will," Maria says.<br/>
<br/>
But Jessica lurches to her feet. "No, let's just do something," she snaps, and before anyone can react, she strides from the studio. Eva gives the room a quick glance-round, and runs after her.<br/>
<br/>
"I second Will's motion," Cindy says. "That's three votes. Practically a landslide." She smirks faintly at Maria, who looks very pinched and mutters, "I'll have to talk to the others."<br/>
<br/>
"You do that. The rest of us should go home. See you at practice tomorrow?" she purrs at Chelsea, and slides in close to kiss her on the temple. "Make it a fun one," she says, "like this morning's." Chelsea looks startled, then grins at her.<br/>
<br/>
A few minutes later, when you and Cindy are outside by your cars: "Jesus, what was that all about?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What was what all about?"<br/>
<br/>
"You and Chelsea. Josiah." You blow her a quick kiss.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. That." Cindy sniggers. "Just keeping things friendly. Shank's off in his own little world. Haven't you noticed?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just noticed he kept giving me the stink eye, and thought I should try making nice with him."<br/>
<br/>
"Good instinct," Cindy says. "You do <i>not</i> want Josiah pissed off at you. He's really torqued at Philip's whole 'second betas' thing anyway, doesn't want to move out of Chelsea's body. Nngh!" She stretches and arches her back. "I can sympathize."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's still going to have to," you point out, "if Fairfax wants us testing out second betas."<br/>
<br/>
"No, we just need <i>one</i> of us to test out a second beta. The rest of us can watch. We can watch what happens with Gordon. And you know, where Josiah is now, inside Chelsea—" Cindy snickers. "That's the perfect place to watch what happens with Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, to watch whoever gets swapped with Gordon. Who's that going to be?" <br/>
<br/>
Cindy shrugs in a very lazy way. "Beats me. Philip'll ask us for ideas, I'm sure. So have some. Just make sure it's someone who won't want to fuck Chelsea. And someone who'll fuck up Marcos Rivera somehow."<br/>
<br/>
She leaves you with that directive, and with the memory of a quick smooch on the ear and the tweak of a nipple.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Yesterday morning you felt weird as you showered and dressed. <i>This is Jenny's body, but I'm not Jenny, I'm just wearing her form,</i> is what you kept thinking, and you kept flinching as you touched yourself. Not until you got to school and got into character and "forgot" yourself did you stop feeling self-conscious about your borrowed body.<br/>
<br/>
This morning, though, you feel ripe and relaxed, and spend a couple of minutes stretching deliciously in bed before getting up and padding into the bathroom. You rub your tight skin under the hot water, and squeeze out your long hair before wrapping it in a towel when you get out. You wipe the steam off the mirror and give your breasts—though they are on the small side—a long and appreciative smirk. <i>This is my body now,</i> you tell yourself as you dress in distressed jeans and a XXL sports jersey snagged at a vintage clothing shop, <i>and I'll be fucked if I'm not going to enjoy wearing and showing it off.</i><br/>
<br/>
"You going out for football this year?" Nicholas Gray snarks when you stride into the choir room for first-period concert practice. You only wrinkle your nose at him, for Nicholas is cute and well-built and polite, and you—well, Jenny—would give him a lot more and much harder attention if he didn't seem more interested in Lynette Kolaya.<br/>
<br/>
Besides, you've got Alexander Peloquin to deal with. He's loitering behind Nicholas, and leans over to murmur something in a very audible voice to his friend Parker. "What'd you say?" you snap at him as Parker smirks.<br/>
<br/>
"Who, me?" Alexander says with faux-innocence.<br/>
<br/>
"Say it a little louder," you challenge.<br/>
<br/>
"I was just saying it looks like you've got Erik Carstairs' number." Alexander traces a number on his chest with a fingertip. "Sixty-nine, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's your number!" you retort, and retreat with a reddening face to the other side of the room, where you join Julia Paez on one of the risers.<br/>
Julia is a basketball player, another tomboy like Jenny, with rusty-brown hair, and a wide-open, ingenuous face that is always easy to read. Jenny signed up for Concert Choir—a more exclusive offshoot of the general school choir—because she thought it would be an ace class to take, but except for Julia, Nicholas, and Lynette, it's full of neurotic underclassmen like Alexis Lachance, petty gossips like Deanna Showalter, smarmy gays like Alexander Peloquin, handsy dorks like Daniel Parrish, and—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yych.</i> You have to look away as Leah Simmons comes swaggering in.<br/>
<br/>
There shouldn't be any issue between you and Leah. Actually, like Julia, she ought to be one of Jenny's friends. She's confident and extroverted, and like Jenny and Julia she's more than a little tomboyish. More tomboyish, in fact. She never wears skirts and hardly ever wears shorts, preferring to dress in rugged jeans, flannel shirts draped or buttoned over heavy t-shirts, and suspenders. She trudges around in brown hiking boots, and her hair is cut boyishly short.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, she is so tomboyish that it is impossible to escape the conclusion that she is—<br/>
<br/>
Well—<br/>
<br/>
It's not something that Jenny likes to admit to herself, and she'd hotly deny it if you accused her of it, because it's a gross thing to be and Jenny tries really hard to be just and fair and not in any way be a 'phobe. But the simple fact is that homosexuals of any kind make her skin crawl.<br/>
<br/>
And because you're now Jenny, Leah with her almost stereotypically butch-dyke look makes <i>your</i> skin crawl.<br/>
<br/>
And—<i>Oh God!</i>—she's making a beeline toward you now. Her friend Jack Li—a gay Chinese-American you often see her with—is trailing in her wake.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Jenny!" she calls when she's still halfway across the room, as if you and her are friends. "Where's your friend Will hang out this hour?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" you ask, so badly does the question startle you. "Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your friend Will. Prescott, I think."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Um, I think he's got—"<br/>
<br/>
"What's his number?" Leah takes her cell phone out.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want, his number or his schedule?"<br/>
<br/>
"Both, if you got 'em." Leah grins.<br/>
<br/>
Grumpily, for you feel both rattled and exasperated, you give her your old number and your beta's current location. You can't help noticing that Jack seems to be entering the number into his cell phone too. "Why do you wanna know?" you demand, and make no attempt to keep the suspicion out of your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Just wanna see about hanging out with him sometime."<br/>
<br/>
"We bumped into him up at Besandwiched last night," Jack says. His grin is bright, white, and cocky. "Hung out talking but forgot to put him in our call list."<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure you approve of Will "hanging out" with this crowd in public, even if it's exactly the kind of get-yourself-into-circulation advice you've been meaning to give your beta. "He's not gay," you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
The smile on Jack's face cools without completely fading. "I'll make a note of that,"  he says, dryly, before turning away. Leah hustles after him, and shoots you a quick, hard look over her shoulder. You don't want to apologize, but you do want to kick yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So I guess we're set to do that 'Freaky Friday' thing," Eva says after you're settled with her in second-period study hall. She glances past you at the door, and keeps her voice low. "Gordon and, well, someone."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Josiah says he doesn't care, so long as it's—"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone who's gay or is a girl," you finish for her. <i>Maybe Julia,</i> you think. <i>One basketball player for another.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So probably Charles. Although I think it'd be fun if it was Yumi." She giggles. "Wouldn't that be funny? Turning Gordon into Yumi and Yumi into—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah yeah." <i>Or someone gay,</i> you're thinking. <i>Jack Li is gay. That'd fuck Leah and her friends up, if Gordon got turned into—</i><br/>
<br/>
"Or how about James?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lamont?" That suggestion brings you quickly back down to earth. "You fucking serious?"<br/>
<br/>
"Switch a dork and a jock. And James and Carson <i>love</i> to give Gordon and his friends the business. So if we switched them—"<br/>
<br/>
You zone out again as you try to imagine a cynical, science-minded geek like James Lamont switching places with one of the dull-witted jock-thugs that he likes to torment.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think?" Eva asks.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know why your opinion should carry any special weight. But even when you don't care about something, you have a hard time keeping your opinion to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
No, wait, that's Jenny who can't keep an opinion to herself.<br/>
<br/>
But you're Jenny now, so you do share. And your vote goes to—<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111542
author_id: seuzz
title: Beware of Booby Traps
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Jack Li," you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
And you flinch. Your voice seemed to carry very loudly inside the library, though none of the students at the other tables seem to have noticed.<br/>
<br/>
Eva looks startled. "Jack?" she says, and her gaze goes distant. "Okay," she says. "Um, he's, uh, gay, so—"<br/>
<br/>
"So let's make it him. Do it tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
Eva blinks. "What's the rush? I mean, you're not even—"<br/>
<br/>
But the door opens at that point, and the rest of your study-hall friends come trooping in. Eva hushes you with a twiddle of her fingers—a gesture that clearly also means, <i>We'll talk about this later.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The study hall that follows brings a sort of dividend, for in addition to the usual gossip you're able to learn how your beta landed on Jack's and Leah's radar.<br/>
<br/>
The long and the short of it is that Audrey Briscoe and her sex-pest boyfriend, Mitchell Belz, were hanging out at Besandwiched (a cafe/restaurant by the college) with Mitchell's sex-pest friends Randal Moore and Daniel Parrish when Jack and Leah and Melanie Saxon came in. They pushed some tables together to make room for the whole party, but there was still room when Will came stumping in by himself, so they called him over. (<i>Who called him over?</i> you asked, and learned it was Randal and Mitchell. They remembered him from the Warehouse last Friday.) So apparently he made an impression on more than just Jack, because Audrey wants to know more about him too.<br/>
<br/>
"He's just a guy I know," you tell her, and squirm in your seat.<br/>
<br/>
"He says he hangs out with you," Audrey presses.<br/>
<br/>
"We just hang out. I don't even know him <i>that</i> well!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure you do," Eva says, and there's a malicious laugh behind her eyes. "You have lunch with him, like, every day!"<br/>
<br/>
"I do not!"<br/>
<br/>
"Every time I go out to eat with you and Carson and James, he's out there with you."<br/>
<br/>
"That's because he hears when <i>you're</i> going to be there," you snap. "Honestly, he's so fucking transparent, him and his friends, they only— <i>What are you laughing at?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," Eva says as she continues to gurgle with ill-suppressed hilarity. "You know."<br/>
<br/>
Audrey, a narrow smile on her face, flicks her gaze between you and Eva. "Is there something going on between you and Will?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No! Ask Eva what's going on between him and her!" you bluster. "Him and her and Jessica! Him and her and Jessica and Cindy!"<br/>
<br/>
Audrey turns to Eva, who smiles back serenely.<br/>
<br/>
"We gave him a makeover," she says. "You like his look? You like his new hat?"<br/>
<br/>
"Randal was all trying to grab it off him," Audrey says.<br/>
<br/>
"That was us." Eva turns back to dimple at you. "We gave him a makeover like you wouldn't never believe!"<br/>
<br/>
Even Rachel, who is never a gossip, looks intrigued, and with Audrey she leans forward with a rapt expression.<br/>
<br/>
"We were just doing him a good turn," Eva tells them while you sink, red-faced, back in your seat. "I always liked Will, but he needed something. Me and Jessica and Cindy decided we could, you know, help him out."<br/>
<br/>
"Is he going with anyone?" Audrey asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so." Eva looks at you. "Is he?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." <i>Not yet,</i> you silently add.<br/>
<br/>
"How good friends are you with him?" Audrey asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Good enough." You flash Eva a quick, sour look.<br/>
<br/>
"Well." Audrey surprises you with a grimace. "Could you give him a little advice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like to stay away from Melanie Saxon?" <br/>
<br/>
"How come?" You remember Melanie from Jenny's experiences with her, though they don't extend much further than the impression that she's a skank.<br/>
<br/>
"Because she was all over him last night. It was like watching a couple of snakes trying to slither their way around him."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God, really?" The image can't but excite you.<br/>
<br/>
"How much do you know about Melanie?" Audrey asks.<br/>
<br/>
And that's more or less the end of the talk about your beta, as the conversation shifts to Melanie and the weird soap opera involving her and Eric Murphy over the summer. It sounds very gross, though in a sexually exciting way, and you and Eva both gasp with shock and excitement as Audrey drops very broad hints about Eric getting sunburned on his ass while sharing a hammock with Melanie over the course of several hot August days. Still, you have to agree that Melanie sounds <i>way</i> too slutty for your friend Will and that he needs to shoot for someone better.<br/>
<br/>
But as you are parting for third-period, Eva has a chance to slip in a little snark with a double meaning. "Maybe <i>you</i> should get together and talk to Jack Li," she tells you as she hikes her pack onto her shoulders. "Talk to him about whether Will could be <i>his</i> type." She dances back before you can kick her in the shin.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Contrary to Eva's teasing, Will and his friends aren't out front with Carson when lunchtime comes around, so you go looking for him at his locker just before sixth period. "Who'd you eat lunch with?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Just some guys. Parker Stott, Jack Li, some girls, Wendy and Kristina something," he adds when you press him.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jack Li?</i> Your eyebrows go up. "Are you doing anything with them later?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. They were talking about going to play frisbee-golf, but I don't—"<br/>
<br/>
"Go with them. Whatever they do, go with them," you order. "Text them— You got them in your contacts yet? Good. Text 'em after school if you don't hear from them, tell them you got the afternoon free."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what am I supposed to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang out with them! Jesus! Be a regular person!" You punch him in the arm, and he makes a face. "They're trying to be your friends. You like them, don't you?" He shrugs. "Well, they only hang out with dozens of girls, and you want to meet girls, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do I?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're waiting for me to tell you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes."<br/>
<br/>
You make a face at him. "Well, yes you do. But make sure Jack is there with you."<br/>
<br/>
A furtive look skitters across his face. "I think he's gay."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>know</i> he's gay! But we've got plans for him, and <i>you</i>—" You poke him in the chest. "Are going to help us out."<br/>
<br/>
Will turns a little green. But you just repeat your instructions, then hustle off to your sixth-period science class.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
In fact, you don't know for sure that your conspiracy has plans for Jack, but when Maria calls you after school to ask if you can get close to him, you're able to report that you've already nudged your beta into position. "Where are we going to try to do the thing?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Wherever your beta can get at Jack," Maria says. "Chelsea can maneuver Gordon into any location where we have to do the switch."<br/>
<br/>
So you talk about it, and after a lot of back-and-forthing, you ultimately settle on trying to make the switch at the school after dark, and concoct a cover story for your beta to give Jack.<br/>
<br/>
You'd think that takes care of everything, but Fairfax wants to talk about the follow-through as well.<br/>
<br/>
"We need to position ourselves so we can watch Gordon and Jack," Maria says, "to study their reactions to the identity change as well as to ensure they don't self-harm in a panic." (You roll your eyes.) "Josiah, of course, is perfectly positioned to observe Gordon, as am I. Are you positioned to observe Jack?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I'm not friends with him. And Jenny isn't either."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we need to test out second betas anyway." Maria pauses. "You were very quick to acquire Jenny's memory patterns, weren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just thinking aloud. Yes, I'd definitely like to see you pick out a second beta."<br/>
<br/>
You wish Fairfax hadn't said that. You feel yourself bridling, and wanting to tell him that you're going to stick it out as Jenny same as him and Shank are going to stick it out as Maria and Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, you ask about Keith and Carlos and Mike, and what they're going to do.<br/>
<br/>
Maria sighs. "Mike has chosen Kendra as his beta, so he'll be helping Josiah and I with our observations. And Carlos—" He seems to struggle for the words. "He has chosen Marcos Rivera as his beta, so if you and Keith are going to observe Jack, you will have to find a way of positioning Marcos to observe as well."<br/>
<br/>
"Or we could just let Carlos do his own thing."<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose," Maria admits. "But you're the only one who really knows anything about Jack, so you and Keith should consult with each other about who you will take as betas."<br/>
<br/>
"I think Keith wants to stay as Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
"We need at least two pairs of eyes on each subject," Maria says. "I've already told Keith he will have to inhabit the shell of a second beta, at least for a few days."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, as long as </i>you're<i> the one making himself unpopular,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The real beauty of the plan, as far as you're concerned, is that you hardly have to do anything. You only have to meet Cindy and your beta up at the school at eight o'clock, where Cindy gives him a mask and some instructions. After that, you and she park in the farthest, darkest corner of the student parking lot to wait and watch and talk about who you will take as second betas. You quickly settle on one beta—Leah Simmons—though you don't settle on whose beta it will be. But you know that, after one of you has slipped inside her skin, he will advise the other on who to take as a second.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211115421
author_id: seuzz
title: The Hand-Off
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Cindy—Keith—doesn't have much to say on the subject of betas, and as you sit in the darkened cab of your car, waiting for the others to arrive, she just files and buffs her nails as you go over possible plans. <i>Sure</i> and <i>Okay</i> and <i>Whatever</i> are her only contributions to the conversation.<br/>
<br/>
"Well if you're not going to help out with any ideas of your own," you finally explode at her, "then maybe I'll just make all the decisions myself!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds fine to me," she replies in a voice faint with boredom.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the matter with you, man?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. I just don't really care, you know?" She blows on her fingertips, and goes back to filing her pinkie.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I know you don't want to give up on being Cindy," you say, "but if you're going to do this with me I think <i>you</i> should be the one to decide who—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I'm not giving up on being Cindy," she airily replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Beg pardon?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, this second beta thing," she says, "I'm just going to do that for a day or two, just to give Philip something scientific to jerk off over, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Excuse me?" you bark.<br/>
<br/>
"Tch. Think about it, dude. He just wants a second person along to help watch the new— What's his name? The guy who we're going to turn Gordon into?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jack Li."<br/>
<br/>
"Him. Philip just wants a second pair of eyes on him, in case you turn out to be a fuck up."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck <i>you!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't even need me switching, if this is about testing out a 'second beta'." She stops filing her nails long enough to hook a couple of finger quotes in the air. "We just need one of us to do that, and we've got you and Mike and Carlos doing it already."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's that got to do with you running back to Cindy after only a day or two?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I probably won't even need to do that."<br/>
<br/>
Now you feel like punching her. "How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I'll just get <i>you</i> to introduce me—Cindy, you know—to this Jack guy and his friends, and <i>Cindy'll</i> start hanging out with them. Tch. It's just pointless busywork any other way."<br/>
<br/>
Now you really do want to throttle her, but you can't, because what she's said actually make sense.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," you spit. "Then <i>I'll</i> be Leah, and I'll—! Well, we'll figure out something, I guess!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure you will. Is she really a dyke?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. She dresses like one."<br/>
<br/>
"That could be fun." Cindy puts her nail file away and takes out her phone, which is buzzing. "I've actually had this deep, burning itch way up inside my pussy, but every time I think of Seth's bratwurst, I get bulimic." She reads the screen of her phone, then glances across the parking lot toward the street. "The guys say they'll be here in a few minutes."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's three betas—beta-Carlos, beta-Mike, and beta-Philip—sent by their originals to help out. They pull up next to you and pile out, and Beta-Carlos and Beta-Mike leer and flirt until in disgust you roll up the car window and lock the door. You don't have to ignore them long, though, before a cherry-red minivan pulls into the lot and parks near the tennis courts, close to your old truck, where beta-Will is waiting. The other three betas sprint off to meet it.<br/>
<br/>
A minute later Cindy gets another text: "They're ready for the next part," she tells you. You ask if you really need to help out. "Yes," she sighs. "I s'pose we better go supervise."<br/>
<br/>
You move your car down next to the others and join your own beta who, hands on his hips, is watching as the other three crowd around the side door into the gym. "I didn't know <i>they</i> were coming," he tells you. "I thought it was just supposed to be—"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know about them either." You walk over to the minivan. The driver's side door is open and an alarm is softly chiming. Jack Li, his head lolling and his limbs hanging, is splayed in the driver's seat with unseeing eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"I told him it was Carson and James who were going to meet us up here," beta-Will continues. He sounds anxious. "But it was those other guys who—"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter." You study Jack. His head is tilted at a sharp angle, and you push it so it rests more directly on his neck. "When we're done here," you murmur, "Jack's gonna have a lot worse to worry about than who he thought he was meeting up here."<br/>
<br/>
A sound from the gym draws your attention, and you look over in time to see the other betas disappearing inside. You glance over at Cindy, and you and beta-Will hurry over to see what's going on.<br/>
<br/>
You're stopped in the doorway by beta-Philip. "You need to remove the other subject's clothes from off him," he tells you. "Bring them in here when you're done."<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on?" you ask. "Are you in charge?"<br/>
<br/>
A faint crease shows in his forehead. "I thought you'd be fully briefed," he says. "We're performing an identity switch on the two subjects."<br/>
<br/>
"I know <i>that!</i> But what do we need to take Jack's clothes off for? And what do we need all you guys here for?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've been given a full set of instructions by my original," beta-Philip replies, "and authorized to improvise if necessary. Would you please bring me the other subject's clothes."<br/>
<br/>
You make a face, but retreat. "I guess they think a couple of silly girls can't handle it," you grump at Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, shut up, Will. They've got a plan, they know what they're doing. And stop trying to be so much like Jenny, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
Now you give <i>her</i> a dirty look, but you say nothing.<br/>
<br/>
Jack is dressed in dark brown khakis and a black polo shirt. You have to push him onto his side and half pull him from the car to get his shoes and socks and pants off. Cindy crawls in through the passenger side to yank his shirt off. They body you uncover is smooth and hairless and well proportioned, with strong legs, and a flat, taut stomach with some faint ridges. It gives you a warm flush to look at it, and you're glad of the excuse to hustle the bundled up clothes into the gym.<br/>
<br/>
There you find the three betas straining to haul a naked Gordon Black across the gym floor toward the door. Beta-Mike and beta-Carlos each have Gordon by one arm, while beta-Philip, puffing hard, shuffles backward while carrying the basketball player by the knees. Chelsea Cooper waddles along after, holding up Gordon's head. All are grunting and straining, which isn't a surprise as Gordon is nearly six and a half feet of solid muscle.<br/>
<br/>
They get him out through the door before they are obliged to drop him. Then they pull the naked Jack out of his car and carry him (more easily) into the gym. "Get him into Gordon's clothes," beta-Philip orders you after they've laid him out on the basketball court, and points toward a wadded up pile of dirty-grey workout clothes nearby.<br/>
<br/>
"What's with all the moving and clothes swapping?" you ask. "Why can't we just leave them naked and where they were?"<br/>
<br/>
"We want to make it look like a body swap," beta-Philip says. "So they have to be where the other one was when they wake up, and dressed like them."<br/>
<br/>
"We mean we have to carry Jack upstairs to the loft?"<br/>
<br/>
"We were down here when I hit him with the mask," Chelsea tells you with a waspish look. "Don't be a dingbat."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, excuse me for—"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut <i>up,</i> Will," Cindy says. "God. I hope Leah doesn't turn out to be a pushy cunt too."<br/>
<br/>
"Leah?" beta-Philip says, and looks between you and Cindy. "Is that one of your second betas?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's mine. At least, that's the plan. Keith will pick one after that." You frown at Cindy, who returns you a dirty look of her own. Beta-Philip nods, and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
Together, you and Chelsea and Cindy succeed in getting Jack into Gordon's sweat pants and sleeveless shirt. The shoes and socks stay off, though—Chelsea tells you he was right in the middle of getting undressed when she hit Gordon with a blank mask. You bite your tongue rather than ask why Gordon was getting undressed in the middle of the gym floor.<br/>
<br/>
Outside, you find that the others have only sortof-kindof squeezed Gordon into Jack's much smaller wardrobe, and he's so heavy that they've left him on the ground next to the minivan. "We could probably get him into the car after we got the other guy's mask onto him," beta-Philip says, "but he'd wake up pretty quick. We could do this much only because the masks keep them unconscious while copying them."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy punches you in the shoulder. "You should've picked someone smaller for us to switch."<br/>
<br/>
"Me?" You rub where she hit you. "It was Josiah's idea!"<br/>
<br/>
"You seconded it."<br/>
<br/>
Beta-Philip bends over to scoop something up off the ground. It's Jack's cell phone, and the glow of the screen reflects dimly off his glasses as he swipes the screen. His eyebrows go up, and he looks at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Phone's unlocked," he says. "You could send a text, pretend to be Jack, and get Leah out here."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dur," Cindy says. "You said Leah's your second."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean make the switch tonight? Now?"<br/>
<br/>
"My alpha sent me with four masks," beta-Philip says, "and everything else we need. We just need your second to meet us here. If you don't mind me advising you," he adds, "I think it would be a good idea. Josiah can keep, uh, 'Gordon' from panicking. But 'Jack' should have someone on hand as well."<br/>
<br/>
You glance around the circle of faces, feeling cornered.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111154212
author_id: seuzz
title: A Fairy Tale for Jack
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Can we get Leah out here, get the switch done," you ask, "before, uh, Gordon wakes up?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," beta-Philip replies. "But—"<br/>
<br/>
"Then what's the point?" You're too stressed to want to add more stress on top by making a switch of your own tonight. "We'll just do it tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
Beta-Philip glances over to where Gordon, in Jack's clothes, is sprawled on the ground next to the minivan. "We can't leave Gordon here alone," he says. "When he wakes up, he's going to—"<br/>
<br/>
"I can handle him," you snap. "I don't have to be <i>Leah</i> for that. I can do it like this." You gesture at yourself.<br/>
<br/>
The others exchange a glance, and beta-Philip frowns.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy leaps in to help. "I'll stay here with Jenny," she says in a cooing voice, and puts her arm through yours. "I want to get acquainted with Jack anyway."<br/>
<br/>
A snicker runs between beta-Carlos and beta-Mike.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, we'll finish up here," beta-Philip says. "You two consult out how you're going to handle Jack." He cocks his head. "Maybe you should drive off and pretend to come back—"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll figure something out," you retort, and wheel to pull Cindy after you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You take beta-Philip's advice this far: You drive off the school grounds and back to town, where you park at the McDonald's. But you and Cindy have come up with no better idea than to "wing it" by the time beta-Philip texts to say that he and the others have completed the switch and are taking off. <i>Don't be slow getting back to the school,</i> he warns you.<br/>
<br/>
So with a deep breath and an anxious glance between you, you and Cindy turn back toward Westside.<br/>
<br/>
There are only two cars next to the gym when you pull back into the lot: Gordon's vintage VW Bug, and Jack's cherry-red minivan. Both appear to be deserted when your headlamps pick them out.<br/>
<br/>
You park next to Jack's, but leave the motor running as you crane your necks, glancing about. No one. You shut off the car, and with another uneasy glance at each other, you and Cindy get out. Shadows lay deep against the side of the gym. You sidle over to the door and try it. It's locked. "Okay, looks like we have to send out a search party," you say.<br/>
<br/>
Then Cindy squawks at something behind you. You wheel in time to see a shadowy figure take off down the side of the gym toward the school.<br/>
<br/>
You and Cindy glance at each other—it's like neither of you want to do anything without the other's agreement—then run off after it.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" you shout after the fleeing figure. "Hey!" It's very dark on the other side of the gym, and you can just make out a darker smudge in the dark as it gallops off ahead. "Don't run, we just want to talk!"<br/>
<br/>
Whoever he is, he must be in a panic, for he turns into a dead-end between the arms of two of the school wings. Breathlessly, you tumble up join him.<br/>
<br/>
Of course (as you should have known it would be) it's Jack. He's pressed up against the school with his back to the wall.<br/>
<br/>
"Jack!" you gasp at him. "What were you running for? Jack?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, what's wrong, buddy?" Cindy says.<br/>
<br/>
You reach out to grasp his arm. For a moment you are able to hold him, and he shudders.<br/>
<br/>
Then he breaks past you, nearly bowling you over, and races back off the way he came. "Jack!" you holler.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus, he's really gonna hurt himself," Cindy cries. Together you run after him.<br/>
<br/>
He takes off in the direction of the athletic fields, and you and Cindy both slow down, for fear of twisting your ankles in the dark. "Oh, fuck," you groan.<br/>
<br/>
"You should have gotten into Leah's mask."<br/>
<br/>
"That's Gordon! He doesn't know Leah from—! He's freaked out, that's all!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, where's he going?"<br/>
<br/>
"You think I know?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance down, realizing you've got your phone in your hand. Almost you swipe it so you can send a text. But then you have a better idea.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on." You nudge Cindy. "Let's go back."<br/>
<br/>
"But—"<br/>
<br/>
"He's gotta come back for his car," you point out. "We'll wait for him there."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So that's what you do. You move your car around to the front of the school, where it won't be seen, then sneak back around to where the other two cars are still parked. The minivan is unlocked, and you and Cindy creep into it to wait in the back.<br/>
<br/>
It's a long time, and you have to put beta-Philip off with a <i>tell-you-later-now-shut-up</i> text when he pokes you to see what's doing. While you're waiting, two figures slip out of the gym. One is small and demure, the other tall and hulking. They are shadows swimming inside the deeper shadows against the side of the gym as they pass in front of you, but you think you catch "Gordon" glancing over at the minivan before he and Chelsea get into the VW Bug and drive away. "I can't wait to hear how that went," Cindy says.<br/>
<br/>
And it's another ten minutes or so—long enough for you get <i>extremely</i> worried—before you feel Cindy grip your arm. She points. Another figure is sidling up to the minivan from the direction of the athletic fields.<br/>
<br/>
You are holding your breath as it edges around the back.<br/>
<br/>
You are sitting behind the driver's seat, and you wait until the driver's side door opens before you jump out. Jack Li, halfway in and halfway out of the cab, lurches around to gape at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Jack!" you exclaim. "Will you please not run away? We came up here to find you!"<br/>
<br/>
His jaw works, but he doesn't say anything. But neither does he scamper off again.<br/>
<br/>
"Have any of the guys been up here yet?" you ask him. "Jack?" you repeat when he doesn't answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Um?" he says in a quavering voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you the first one up here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" he croaks.<br/>
<br/>
You pretend to let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, then let's get out of here," you tell him, "before Gordon or Steve or someone like that shows up." <br/>
<br/>
Jack makes a yipping noise, and out of the corner of your eye you see Cindy giving you a puzzled look.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, come on." You touch Jack on the arm. "Let's go back to town. Meet up at Panera so we can talk about it. You know where that is, right?" you add when Jack only stares back at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm-hmm," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well then— Cindy, can you take my car and meet us up there?" You hold your keys out to her. "I'll ride with Jack."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy glances between you and the transformed Gordon Black, then nods.  After she's gone, you gently press Jack into the driver's seat. "I'll fill you in on what you missed," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
What that is, you're not sure, but the promise of something that sounds like answers is enough to get the new Jack Li to (slowly) crawl behind the wheel of his new ride. You hurry around to get into the other side.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a flimsy and badly explained story you buffalo him with, when you're at the bakery with him and Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
First, you explain that he was summoned up to the school to meet with Carson Ioeger, James Lamont, and Will Prescott as part of some Carson-and-James plot against Gordon Black and Chelsea Cooper. That is to give him a preview of what he should "remember" tomorrow when he's settled into Jack's memories, for that is exactly the story you had your beta give him.<br/>
<br/>
Second, to explain your own presence at the school, you tell him that you (Jenny) found out about this plot; that you hurried up to the school to head it all off; and that you brought Cindy along in case Gordon needed some sweet-talking to stop him from punching someone's head off his shoulders. Cindy, bless her, plays along, and rattles off a couple of stories about how brutal and thuggish Gordon is, and how likely he is to badly hurt anyone he gets his hands on. Jack only stares as he listens to this, so you have no idea what it's doing to Gordon to hear himself described as a brute and a thug and very nearly a killer.<br/>
<br/>
Last, to cover what happened next, you tell him that it turned out to be a "snipe hunt" that Carson and James perpetrated against him and Will, and that they had no intention of showing up. You say nothing about Carlos and Mike and Philip showing up, though, because it seems best to pretend you know nothing about them being there.<br/>
<br/>
And how does Jack take it?<br/>
<br/>
Numbly. Silently. With a shifty expression and a light of fear behind his eyes. You affect not to notice, and prod and squeeze him reassuringly as you explain how narrowly he escaped one of Carson and James's dangerous pranks.<br/>
<br/>
His phone goes off a couple of times during the talk, but he only glances at the screen before putting it away without answering.<br/>
<br/>
You top off the evening by suggesting that he "go home" and stay inside, lest he get lured out for any other "ambushes."<br/>
<br/>
He nods, and finally speaks a couple of words of his own when he says he has to visit the restroom.<br/>
<br/>
"You think he's going to be okay?" Cindy asks while he's gone. You can only shrug.<br/>
<br/>
He is away for a very long time, but his brow is clearer and he looks a little more relaxed when he returns. His voice is still tight, though. "Thanks for coming to find me," he tells you. "I'm gonna take off now."<br/>
<br/>
And with that abrupt farewell, he lurches stiffly from the restaurant.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not even nine o'clock yet," Cindy says after he's gone. "You could still try for your second beta."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111542121
author_id: seuzz
title: A Second Chance at Leah Simmons
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You hesitate at Cindy's question. You feel less stressed now than you did earlier, but you are also less worried about Gordon. You're pretty sure that he'll be able to make it to the morning okay, when he should get the memories he's now lacking. Besides, it's not like you <i>need</i> to switch with Leah tonight for any reason.<br/>
<br/>
But it still seems like a good idea to get it done.<br/>
<br/>
So you tell Cindy to call the betas back, to get them to bring you the stuff you need, while you yourself DM Leah through the x2z social media app.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake to darkness. The air is stuffy, and your skin is scratchy, like you're wrapped in an itchy body stocking. You gape at the blackness above you and struggle to place yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jenny Ashton. I got a text from Jenny Ashton.</i> You remember that much, at least, though you struggle with the uneasy sense that even that's not quite right. <i>And I had to come up to the school even though it was getting on toward ten o'clock in order to meet some guys because Jack was in trouble.<br/>
<br/>
Jack.</i><br/>
<br/>
You bolt up with a stifled cry, and nearly brain yourself on the roof of the car. You nurse the bruise while cussing softly to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Faces and memories come crowding in, suffocating you. Most prominent are the faces of Will Prescott and Jenny Ashton and Leah Simmons—<i>me, myself and I</i>, you mutter to yourself—and they dance in your mind's eye as you you squeeze your head between your palms. <i>Make it stop,</i> you hiss to yourself. <i>Make it stop spinning so I can remember who I am and who I'm ... supposed to ... be!</i><br/>
<br/>
You draw a shuddering breath as the world slows and rights itself, but your brain still feels very tender, and you dance away from memories that almost painfully vivid. Memories of pulling up in front of the school and getting out to be met by Philip Fairfax and Jenny Ashton—Philip looking sober but Jenny with a queer, almost gloating smile on her face—and of being grabbed and smothered in the face with a ... thing. Memories too of waiting in the dark for Leah to show up, and smiling warmly at her as she hopped out of the cab with a chirpy "Hey, so what's going on?" only to be grabbed and held by beta-Philip as you smashed a mask into her face. And memories of crawling into the backseat of a car and stripping your clothes off, and gripping your temple in the way that beta-Philip showed you, and muttering the strange words that he made you repeat and practice while waiting for Leah to show up.<br/>
<br/>
You roll your head on your neck until the bones crack.<br/>
<br/>
You still feel grimy, as though you've peeled yourself out of clothes that you've worn for several days straight on a backpacking trip, though you are in bare skin. Tentatively you run light fingertips over your arms and the top of your breasts. Leah's body doesn't feel much different from Jenny's. Skinny, even a little bony, with tight skin and little in the way of muscle.<br/>
<br/>
You feel a little better after you've dressed, in jeans, a t-shirt, a long-sleeve shirt over that, and boots and socks. You palm the sides of your head, missing Jenny's long hair, then scramble feet first out of the back seat and into the night air.<br/>
<br/>
Two figures look over from Fairfax's car: beta-Philip and ... beta-Jenny. The latter audibly sucks her breath in with a hiss.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" you call out, even though they're only a few feet from you. "Here I am. One of the team, now." You put out your fist. Beta-Jenny ignores you, but beta-Philip awkwardly returns the fist bump. "So, what'd I miss?"<br/>
<br/>
"Cindy took off," beta-Philip says.<br/>
<br/>
"Bitch," you mutter. "Sorry," you add when he frowns. "Anything else? What now?"<br/>
<br/>
Beta-Philip pitches an uneasy glance at beta-Jenny. "You should probably give your, um, other beta some instructions."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. So." You chuck your chin at beta-Jenny.<br/>
<br/>
And you stop dead. Even in the dark, the loathing on the other's face is unmissable.<br/>
<br/>
It startles you, this palpable hostility, and from a couple of different directions. First, there's the shock that you as Leah feel. Yeah, Jenny was never more than borderline polite any time she talked to you, and you knew she didn't much care for you. But this level of hatred? That's unreal! And second, there's the surprise that a teammate—and beta-Jenny is a teammate, isn't she?—should give you that look.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay," you stammer at her. "I, uh, I guess I'll take over watching out for Jack. And you can go back to—" To what? <i>Hating me from a distance?</i> "To just acting like Jenny," you lamely conclude. "But come find me when I ask you to."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, whatever you say, boss" beta-Jenny mutters.<br/>
<br/>
Beta-Philip murmurs something in your ear, and you pass the message along to the other beta. "And don't tell anyone about what happened here. Just be normal. Not like anything weird has been going on."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing, boss. Can I go now?" the beta grinds out between her teeth.<br/>
<br/>
You regard her, and hesitate.<br/>
<br/>
It's a silly thing to say, because it's almost certainly not going to make any difference. But she's pissed you off, so you give in to the temptation.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gay," you tell beta-Jenny. "Not even a little bit."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's not something you dwell on during the drive back to Leah's house—she lives not far from where beta-Keith is sleeping these days, in a weathered but comfortable ranch house in a part of the city where the lots are small and the trees old—but that look of disgust on beta-Jenny's face (and its reason for being there) was a sore spot, given how unfair Jenny's judgement is. So faces and forms—faces and thighs, mostly, for Leah likes a strong leg on a guy—keep boiling up before your mind's eye as you navigate the darkened streets. Faces and forms like Austin Dougherty. Chris Love. Marc Garner. Alec Brown. Blake O'Brien. Brian Kelly. Cody Schaefer.<br/>
<br/>
Jack Li.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hmm.</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, the interest there is tempered by the knowledge that Jack is gay—seriously, unapologetically, one-hundred-percent gay—so it would be ... <i>disrespectful</i> ... to dwell on how scrumptious he looks in shorts. But, yes, when off the leash Leah's libido will sit up and snap when Jack wanders into view.<br/>
<br/>
Because Leah likes the boys, and has always liked them, and has especially hankered after them ever since—<br/>
<br/>
You can't stop yourself flinching at the memory, for you haven't disappeared up Leah's 'gina <i>that</i> far yet.<br/>
<br/>
—ever since a year ago, when Adam Dortch pushed and prodded Leah into the bathroom at a friend's house during a party, and she let him do her while standing between the toilet and linen closet. She went along with him so as to seem cool and unafraid—Adam is a <i>very</i> cool and knowing customer—and because she was actually curious about what it would be like.<br/>
<br/>
And she found that she liked it. A <i>lot!</i><br/>
<br/>
And from that point on she dropped her tweenage "cute boy" crushes and got interested in <i>men,</i> and particularly in their length and their girth, their firmness and and their stamina.<br/>
<br/>
She exercised some self-control, though. The last thing she wanted was a reputation, like Molly Shaw.<br/>
<br/>
So distracted are you by these reminiscences that you hardly notice when you pull into the driveway of your new house, and you're brought up short only by the sight of Leah's parents curled up in the dark living room watching TV. The panicked thought <i>I'm in the wrong house!</i> blazes across your brain, followed by the somehow-even-more-alarming thought <i>But I </i>am<i> in the right house!</i> But they only react to ask if you're finally home for the night. Tongue-tied, you nod.<br/>
<br/>
And after that you're too addled to do more than flee to the bedroom. Not until you're nestled under the sheets and reviewing the too-busy day do you remember that you ought to send Jack a text, to check up that he got home okay. And by then it seems too late to do any good. <i>First thing in the morning,</i> you tell yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But it's not until you're in the shower that you remember your intention to reach out to Jack, and the water is pouring off you as, with no more than a skimpy towel wrapped around your torso, you scamper back to the bedroom to grab your phone. <i>hey meet fr bfast?</i> you text him. Ten minutes later, with no reply, you follow with <i>wanna talk bt wkend lets have fun.</i> And after you're dressed and wolfing down some oatmeal and there's still no answer from him, so you text him a third time: <i>hey look fr me n park lot.</i><br/>
<br/>
Still no reply comes, and you're packing up for class when the phone chimes. You're hoping it's Jack, but it's the last person you'd expect to hear from.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott," Chelsea Cooper says in a very clipped tone. "Is that you?"<br/>
<br/>
You almost drop the phone. "Uh ... yes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, is it or isn't it? Because I heard from someone who <i>looks</i> like my friend Maria, and she says she heard from—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, it's me, Chelsea. I mean, <i>Josiah.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
There's a frosty silence. Then: "Well, where are you? We need you up at the school right away."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing's wrong. We just need you to run interference. Jack and Gordon are both up here, and while I can handle 'Gordon'"—you can hear the air quotes around the name—"you're supposed to be the one handling 'Jack'."<br/>
<br/>
"Handling them how?"<br/>
<br/>
Another frosty silence. "To keep them from talking and comparing notes."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yikes,</i> you think. <i>Yes I should get up there!</i><br/>
<br/>
But then you think: <i>Shouldn't we just be observing, not interfering?</i><span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211115421211
author_id: seuzz
title: Practicing Deceptions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>We're just supposed to watch what happens,</i> you tell yourself as you hover over your backpack. <i>If Gordon and Jack want to meet and talk about what happened to them ... well, that's what I would do if this kind of thing happened to me.</i><br/>
<br/>
On the other hand—<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott." Chelsea's voice comes snapping through your phone. "Are you there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm here."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's 'here'? Because if it's not 'half a mile from Westside and burning rubber to get there'—"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright! Jesus! I'm on my way!"<br/>
<br/>
You swipe the phone off, shove the last few books into your pack, and run for the door without even brushing your teeth.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chelsea texts again while you're still on the road, to inform you that Jack is up in the bleachers of the gym, watching pre-class basketball practice. <i>I kept him off Gordon when we got here but u need to keep him off after.</i> You're not sure the good it'll do—if they want to meet and talk, they'll find a way—but the ill-temper you sense behind the text is enough to get you to run two yellow lights as you hurl yourself toward the school.<br/>
<br/>
From long habit (Leah's long habit) you keep an alert eye out for any friends as you hurry across the parking lot toward the gym, but you don't see anyone. You flinch as you wrench open the door to the gym, as the stench of sweaty boys and unwashed clothes hits you in the nose.<br/>
<br/>
Half your flinch is a Pavlovian reaction against the memory of P. E. class. But the other half is Leah's excitement at getting to see guys in action.<br/>
<br/>
The east court is busy with basketball players. There's some kind of game in progress on the court proper—the walls ring and echo with the slap of the hard ball on the hard floor, and the squeak and squeal of rubber soles—but a handful of players are jogging around the perimeter. You can't stop yourself from pausing to ogle the guys in their shorts and tank tops, their limbs shiny with sweat. Steve Patterson. Jonas Martin. Seth Javits. Brendan Tummler. Scott Frazier.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon Black.<br/>
<br/>
He's in the middle of the scrimmage, dancing backward and blocking Shawn Sax from advancing toward the far basket. His expression, glimpsed even at a distance, is hard and menacing.<br/>
<br/>
Shawn pauses and crouches, looking for an opening. Gordon crouches too, spreading strong arms. The other players scatter behind them, shooting hands into the air, as Gordon and Shawn lean in toward each other.<br/>
<br/>
Then Shawn makes a feint, but Gordon anticipates and blocks him when he wheels in the opposite direction. There's a flurry, and then Gordon has the ball. Players come galloping toward you. But Gordon stops halfway down the court, goes up into the air—gently, almost, as though lifted from above by invisible hands—and sends the ball in a graceful arc for the basket. It bounces off the rim, then falls through, and is snagged by Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
You think for a moment that Gordon has seen you, and is looking at you. But then his attention returns to the play, and he falls back toward his side's basket.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well,</i> you think, and even your inner voice is shaky. <i>Either Gordon's back to being himself, or Jack picked up everything he needs during the night. I wonder what the real Gordon would think.</i><br/>
<br/>
And that reminds you why you're here. You tear your attention away from the floor and look up into the bleachers.<br/>
<br/>
On one side at mid-court, among a score of students lounging on the benches, Chelsea and Maria are sitting in lonely splendor.  And on the opposite side, where there are fewer spectators—<br/>
<br/>
Ah, there's Jack. Sitting by himself, also at mid-court, almost at eye level with the two cheerleaders. But he seems to be concentrating on the game below.<br/>
<br/>
You edge along the side of the court, then pick your way up the bleachers to where he's sitting. He seems not to notice until you are nearly atop him, and then he flinches a little in a double-take at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God," you gabble as you plop down next to him. "Looks like we both had the same idea." You feel short of breath, and have to swallow your heart, which is bobbing up the back of your throat. "Awesome start for a Friday, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Jack's grunt is barely audible over the noise from the floor below.<br/>
<br/>
"You get my texts? Guess you wanted to do this instead of going to breakfast."<br/>
<br/>
"I was already up here."<br/>
<br/>
"What? No! You've been up here since <i>seven?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to—" His expression tightens. "I wanted to watch a practice."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, who?" You walk your fingers up his thigh, and he flinches again. "Come on, I'll tell you my fantasies if you tell me—"<br/>
<br/>
But you break off, for you've just noticed he's dressed the same as he was last night, in brown khaki trousers and a black polo. It's not like Jack to dress in yesterday's clothes: he's been known to change ensembles two or even three times in one day, depending on his social plans.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Maybe,</i> you think, <i>he </i>didn't<i> go home last night.</i><br/>
<br/>
Does that mean he didn't get Jack's memories? You decide to test him. "You talk to Parker and them about what you wanted to do tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
The sound of the game below fills the silence. Then Jack says, "I think Parker and Kristina were going to do something together, just the two of them."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Whew!</i> That's what Kristina told you—well, what she told <i>Leah</i>—yesterday. "Okay, so what are you and <i>me</i> going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you and me." You run your fingertip up his thigh again. "We're the ones always making plans. What are <i>we</i> going to do?" A movement on the floor catches your eye. Patterson is gesturing one of the joggers—Darren Green—to come onto the floor, and is sending one of the players—Jonas Martin—out to jog the perimeter. "We could pick up two of the guys down there," you slyly remark, "make 'em our boy-toys for the night."<br/>
<br/>
Jack stiffens noticeably, and almost you regret the jibe. How upsetting is it for Gordon suddenly to be inhabiting the body of a guy who is gay down to the tips of his toenails? Maybe you shouldn't push him.<br/>
<br/>
Then you think, <i>Fuck that, putting Gordon Black into a ragingly gay body is something we </i>wanted<i> to make happen!</i><br/>
<br/>
So you lean over to mouth a name in his ear: "Scott Frazier!"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Jack jerks back, and gives you a look of alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"Scott Frazier," you repeat with a grin. "That's who I'd tie up and take out to the river in my trunk."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" Jack pales a little under his tawny complexion.<br/>
<br/>
"Now it's your turn. Come on, who?"<br/>
<br/>
Jack makes a face and turns away.<br/>
<br/>
"Seriously, come on, Jack. We never— I told <i>you!"</i> Jack ignores you. "Okay, then, dare!"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dare. You wouldn't tell me Truth, so now I—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not playing this game with you, Leah."<br/>
<br/>
"What's got you down, Jack? It's Friday! This is, like, <i>your</i> day!"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna talk about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not? Is it—? You're not mad at <i>me</i>, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." But he does a double-take. "Should I be?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Not that I know of." You rub his knee, and hesitate: your desire to needle and probe him is losing out to Leah's own instincts. "Do you need me to fuck off?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
Then he turns and seems to see you for the first time. His eyes actually focus on you, and hold your gaze in his. His lips part, and his brow creases, and he looks like he's going to say something.<br/>
<br/>
But he doesn't. Instead, he leans back, and continues to regard you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit,</i> you think. <i>I've fucked something up.</i><br/>
<br/>
But then with a soft grunt, he goes back to watching the practice below. "So do <i>you</i> got plans for tonight?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you want to do, lover." At the last word, your heart flips over in your chest. <i>Oh, God, worse and worse!</i><br/>
<br/>
"Legends?" he says. That's Jack's favorite dance club, and the implication that he's <i>getting into character</i> relieves you.<br/>
<br/>
"What about the Warehouse?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nghn. Too busy."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, Legends it is. Who do we hogtie and get to go with us?"<br/>
<br/>
He sucks in a cheek, then says, "I'll scare up a crowd."<br/>
<br/>
Your phone chirps with a text from Chelsea: <i>Get him out of here!</i><br/>
<br/>
"Come on, walk me to my locker," you tell Jack, and tug at him, but he sits rooted to the bleacher. Down on the floor, it looks like Patterson is calling a halt to practice.<br/>
<br/>
But when the team gathers around Gordon, and he begins addressing them, Jack levers himself up. There's a scowl on his face, and it is still there even after you're out of the gym.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Jack breaks away for class before you reach your locker, so it's just you changing out books when Brianna Kirschke pokes you in the shoulder to ask about the plans for tonight.<br/>
<br/>
It would be in character for you to invite her along to Legends. But Jack said he'd be in charge of setting things up. He'll probably invite her along anyway.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111154212112
author_id: seuzz
title: Bets and Bluffs
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Leah has lots of friends, so many that it wouldn't be quite right to say that any of them count as her "best" friends. But Brianna Kirschke, a band-girl with a chipmunk-cute face that she hides behind black-frame glasses, would probably be a top name on any such list.<br/>
<br/>
So it feels funny to lie to her, and tell her that you don't know yet. "Keep your ear to the ground," you advise her. "You'll hear something when it's happening."<br/>
<br/>
Brianna scrunches up her nose in an excited grin, and you can't help grinning back at her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fridays are just the best days ever!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, they would be the best days ever if so many of your classes didn't suck.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, it's not so much that the classes <i>suck</i>—which would be hard, given that two of them are choir classes and one is Interior Design. But you share too few of them with all those friends you've now got. Only in Ms. Gladstone's fourth-period English class does Leah have a "best" friend, and Susie Lekuawehe is such a scatterbrain that it's almost like not having a friend in there at all.<br/>
<br/>
(That period you also share with Caleb Johansson and a bunch of betas: beta-Mike, beta-Carlos, beta-Josiah, and not least beta-Will. You can't shake the feeling that three of those betas are giving you sly, sidelong looks all through class, and you <i>definitely</i> notice beta-Will giving what looks like a start of recognition when you saunter into the classroom.<br/>
<br/>
Which is weird, because you didn't tell him what you were going to do, and don't really recall ever noticing Leah in English before.)<br/>
<br/>
And that leaves the period after English as the only period of the day when you get to hang out with friends.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You grab your brown-bag lunch from your locker after English lets out and wolf it down—sandwich, banana, chips—on the walk from your locker to the library. You shove the last of the banana into your mouth as you plop into a chair next to the quartet of friends who are waiting there.<br/>
<br/>
Jack, his best friend Parker Stott, Parker's girlfriend Kristina Townes, and friend-to-all Wendy Terrill have fourth-period lunch, but they also have a fifth-period study hall, so they are already relaxing and waiting for you.<br/>
<br/>
And they do all look relaxed. Even Jack (you are interested to see) is leaning back with a crinkly smile on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"So!" you exclaim after sucking down the rest of your lunch with a gulp. You pump the air with two fists. "Fri-Day!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fri-Day!" Wendy and Kristina chant more mutedly. Parker says, "How're you gonna celebrate?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's gonna try losing her virginity again."<br/>
<br/>
You almost come out of your chair, because it was Jack who said it. With a warm, teasing smile, yes. But still, it was <i>Jack</i> who said it! "She came to school early today," he continues, "to eye-fuck the basketball squad."<br/>
<br/>
"You did too!" you exclaim as a bunch of grins swivel in your direction. "I mean," you correct yourself with a hot blush, "that's what <i>you</i> were up there doing! You were up there when I got there! He was!" you insist to the others, "and he was—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I was scoping out the squad," Jack drawls. "There's some betting action I'm interested in."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, betting if you can—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Quiet." Jack pushes an admonitory finger into your face. "Before you say something really gross that's gonna piss me off."<br/>
<br/>
You slap his hand away. "Oh? You get to say gross things about me, but—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ever since school started," Jack interrupts, "it seems like all I get to hear from you is about Austin Dougherty's thighs."<br/>
<br/>
"What's this betting action?" Parker asks before you can explode.<br/>
<br/>
"I ran into some guys at the college last weekend," Jack tells him as you silently fume. "They were talking about the spread on the Eastman-Westside game." He shrugs. "I got here early today, so I went in to watch practice, see what it looked like."<br/>
<br/>
"So how did the squad look?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a fractional pause, and almost you can see Gordon—from behind Jack's eyes—remembering what it was like to watch ... himself ... practicing on the floor below. <br/>
<br/>
Then he stretches his arms and sinks down into his chair, an action just a shade too studied to be completely casual.<br/>
<br/>
"They look like they know what they're doing."<br/>
<br/>
<i>I bet they do,</i> you think. <i>"Gordon" looked like he totally knew what he's doing, and I bet it freaked you the fuck out!</i><br/>
<br/>
The conversation shifts to sports, which leaves you with not a lot to say, so while Parker and Jack yammer on about basketball—a topic you're pretty sure Jack wasn't on top of before last night's switch—you and the girls talk about recent parties and upcoming plans for Halloween. You're so absorbed you almost forget to pay any attention to Jack.<br/>
<br/>
Almost.<br/>
<br/>
At the end of the period he saunters out with the other three because they all have a P. E. class together, but you pluck at the back of his shirt until he stops and turns to you.<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't come out this morning to watch practice because you have a <i>bet</i> going," you accuse him.<br/>
<br/>
"No," he admits. "I just had some thinking to do."<br/>
<br/>
"While eye fucking the guys on the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"No, that was you." He bends over to hiss in your ear. "Scott Frazier!"<br/>
<br/>
You slap him in the chest. "So who were <i>you</i> eye fucking?"<br/>
<br/>
A slow grins slides up the side of his face. "Dare," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. But then— "Okay!" you exclaim. "Ask your secret crush out to Legends tonight!"<br/>
<br/>
For a moment his expression seems to freeze, and again, behind his eyes, you think you can see a gay-panicked Gordon Black glaring out at you.<br/>
<br/>
This his face relaxes. Almost. There's just the barest hint of anger in his manner when he says, "Okay."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck you. I'm serious!"<br/>
<br/>
"So am I. It's about time I did." He smiles, but there's a shadow inside it.<br/>
<br/>
"No you won't. Jack, as long as I've known you, you—"<br/>
<br/>
"I will." He settles his hands on your shoulders. "Absolutely."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart skips, but you still can't believe him. "Really. Say it. Tell me what you're going to do."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. "I am going to invite my secret crush out to Legends tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not telling you."<br/>
<br/>
"Then how will I know if you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not telling you," he repeats.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes narrow. "And you'll tell him how you feel?"<br/>
<br/>
He slides a finger down your cheek. "That wasn't part of the 'dare', sweetheart."<br/>
<br/>
He dances back out of reach before you can hit him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get a text from Maria asking if you've picked out a second beta for Keith. Instead of replying, you text Cindy to ask if she can come out to Legends tonight, and when she says she can, you text Maria to say that you don't need to fix up a second beta for Keith because Cindy can help you keep an eye on Jack.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Will, we have to talk,</i> Maria replies, but you counter with <i>Tomorrow got plans all day n tonite.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your immediate post-school plans have nothing to do with Jack but evolved from your lunchtime talk with Kristina and Wendy, and after stopping at home long enough to drop your book bag and to tell your mom you'll see her sometime tomorrow (for Leah has an <i>awesomely late</i> curfew) you head downtown to meet the girls at HolidayTown, a store specializing in holiday-themed decorations and items, to look for Halloween costumes. That proves a bust, though, as they carry nothing except some cheap masks and plastic props. Not that it really matters, because you want to talk with them about Jack. You can hardly keep from bursting when you share the news that Jack will be inviting his "secret crush" to Legends tonight.<br/>
<br/>
Naturally, they want to know who it is. But you have to confess you don't know.<br/>
<br/>
"You said he was watching the basketball squad at practice this morning," Kristina says.<br/>
<br/>
"I said he was <i>eye-fucking</i> them."<br/>
<br/>
"So it's probably one of them?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't see it," Wendy says. "Not for Jack."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not Marc Garner," Kristina retorts.<br/>
<br/>
Wendy pouts. "Who says?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up! You've been shipping them forever. It's not going to happen."<br/>
<br/>
Wendy's pout deepens. "Not with Hannah in the way."<br/>
<br/>
"Marc's not gay."<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't have to be gay," you put in, so fast that the expressed thought almost surprises you. "Jack's secret crush, I mean," you stammer. "It could be any guy, straight or—"<br/>
<br/>
You break off as Kristina tenses. There's been <i>way</i> too much loose talk recently about Jack having a "thing" for his long-time best friend, Parker, who has just started going out with her.<br/>
<br/>
"But anyway," you continue before the pause can become awkward, "I bet that's it."<br/>
<br/>
"He has a crush on a guy who's straight?" Wendy's brow furrows.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not like he's got a lot of choices, and he <i>hates—</i> But what I mean is— Well, he's always been really secret about his secret crush."<br/>
<br/>
Wendy turns prim. "So I bet it's a guy with a girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not <i>Marc.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"How much you wanna bet?" Wendy taunts.<br/>
<br/>
"Everything," you retort, rising to the challenge.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that mean?"<br/>
<br/>
You plunge, recklessly. "It means <i>everything.</i> Bragging rights, all my cash, and anything at my house that's mine to give away! See it and call!" You lift your chin and daunt her with your brightest stare.<br/>
<br/>
Wendy pales. It's a wager too reckless for her, and she crumples.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But she tries resurrecting the wager later that night, at the dance club, when Marc Garner indeed shows up.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111542121121
author_id: seuzz
title: Dancing Around the Issues
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's nearly ten-thirty when Marc does show up at the dance club, which gave you plenty of time to feel smug at Wendy's expense. You had a blast in the meantime, shuffling between the dance floor and the booth where you and your guys were hanging out.<br/>
<br/>
Not that Wendy was paying much attention to you. And she probably couldn't have read your expression, what with all the pastel lighting—purples and pinks and greens—that flash and float around the room.<br/>
<br/>
Legends is one of the two main nightclubs where high school students like to hang out. Of the two, Legends is definitely the "safe" one: a well-lit space with plenty of burly bouncers, a huge dance floor, lots of places to sit, and a bar where you get carded every time you go up to order a drink. Mostly—judging by the kind of people you see there—it caters to young adults out on casual, non-threatening first dates, but it's also a good place for seniors and juniors like you and your friends.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you—and Brianna and Genesis and Susie; and Jack and Parker and Wendy and Kristina; and others who have shown up—are shy about going out to the Warehouse, where you're not unlikely to get caught in a fistfight. But sometimes you just want to take it easy and relax without running the risk of going home with someone else's vomit dripping down the front of your blouse.<br/>
<br/>
Not that Legends is itself completely safe.<br/>
<br/>
"Gawd, creepy guy in the back table," Philippa Hosford moans as she drops into the booth with a couple of wine coolers for her and Genesis. "He keeps staring over here."<br/>
<br/>
You poke Jack. "Is he the guy you asked out?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!" Philippa answers for him with a shudder. "It's some pervy guy, just out of college, it looks like."<br/>
<br/>
You glance past Philippa's ear, but can't really make out who she's talking about. "You keep saying he's not here yet," you needle Jack as you take one of the coolers. "Are you sure you asked him out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure I did." He hasn't been in a talkative mood, but has been chilling in the corner all evening, grooving to the music behind half-closed eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Dance with me," you challenge him, for in the hour since you've arrived he still hasn't been out on the floor. But he just grunts, though he does stir himself enough to reach out and take one of the coolers for himself.<br/>
<br/>
"God, you are so gay!" Cindy exclaims. Your colleague, who arrived only fifteen minutes ago, is sitting on the other side of him. "If Seth was here, he wouldn't be able to stand it."<br/>
<br/>
There's an icy silence, ended when Parker says, "Then it's a good thing you said he's not showing up."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy grabs the cooler from Jack's lips. "I wanna dance," she tells him. "Leah tells me you're the best dancer in the school. Show me."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't gotta show you anything," Jack grunts.<br/>
<br/>
"Show me you're a better dancer than Seth. Which isn't hard." She pulls at him, but he's immovable. "Come <i>on.</i> I wanna dance, and I want it to be with someone who isn't going to grab my ass or fondle my boobs!"<br/>
<br/>
The tension at the table is thick and slimy, and it makes you skin crawl. It's Parker again who breaks it.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on," he says, getting creakily to his feet. He plucks at Cindy. "I won't fondle you, I promise."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy clucks her tongue, but humps and scoots out of the booth to follow him onto the floor. Your company—except for Genesis and Susie, who have been engrossed with their cell phones for the past hour—watch as they start to dance. Parker has some good moves, and Cindy has a cheerleader's gracefulness, but they are very stiff.<br/>
<br/>
"Thank you <i>so much,</i>" Brianna hisses at you, "for inviting her out here!"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't think she'd come! Anyway, I didn't <i>invite</i> her! I just bumped into her and mentioned a bunch of us were coming out here tonight!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why would you even do <i>that?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm <i>sorry!</i> I told you, I didn't think she'd—"<br/>
<br/>
A thought seizes you, and you whirl on Jack. "You said you invited your guy out here, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I told you, about a hundred times now, every time you ask me."<br/>
<br/>
"Did he say 'yes' or did he say 'no'?"<br/>
<br/>
With the lights playing over his face, it's hard to read the subtleties of his expression, but you think his eyes shift ever so slightly. "He didn't say anything."<br/>
<br/>
You groan.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that how come you're sulking? You've been sulking ever since we got here. You think you blew it with him by asking?"<br/>
<br/>
Jack picks up the cooler and drains it in one long chug, then sets the empty bottle back onto the table with a hard tap.<br/>
<br/>
"It's just embarrassing," he says, "watching Parker flail around out there." He starts pushing his way out of the booth. "He's trying <i>way</i> too hard to not get close to Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
Your chest tightens as he trudges out onto the floor, where Parker and Cindy are dancing with what might as well be a hundred yards of empty air between them, and dark spots start to dance in front of your eyes. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Gordon Black, in the body of a gay Chinese guy, is going out to dance with the girlfriend of one of his basketball teammates.</i><br/>
<br/>
Jack lays a gentle hand on Parker's shoulder, and pushes him away. Cindy stops cold and stares with her mouth hanging open. You chortle inwardly. <i>Tilley just had his bluff called!</i><br/>
<br/>
You've Leah's memories of all the times she's been out at a club or at a party with Jack, so it shouldn't be a surprise when he busts out his moves on Cindy. But somehow it is.<br/>
<br/>
He starts with a basic, fast shuffle, feet cutting in and out and around each other, bouncing from ball to heel inside a small square of floor space while keeping his torso rigid and holding his arms out for balance. But as he works, he slowly layers in more complexity, kicking in extra jumps and shuffles, his feet whirling and whorling like living things that have nothing to do with the rest of his body. And when the rest of him comes alive—his back bending and arching from side to side, his arms lathing the air like boneless serpents—it's like two people doing two different dances in one body, one working the hips up and the other from the hips down.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy only stands and gapes, and turns slowly in a circle as he starts to orbit her. Otherwise she is rooted, even as Jack mimes hurling a lasso over her, then mimes pulling himself to her, hand over hand, on an invisible rope, his feet kicking furiously at the empty air beside her ankles. He works his way up to her, chops at the air around her head with blade-like hands, then rests them on her hips while pumping in place. How he manages to keep from knocking her feet out from under her as he kicks and grinds while holding her so close, you have no idea.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa!"<br/>
<br/>
The voice in your ear startles you, and you nearly come out of your seat when you look over to find that Marc Garner has dropped down next to you. He is staring, rapt, at Jack and Cindy, his eyes shining with admiration. "How do you learn to dance like that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like Jack?" you shout at him over thumping music that has suddenly surged in volume. Now that you've taken your eyes off Jack, you notice that the rest of the dance floor has stopped, and everyone is watching him. "You practice since you were, like, five years old!"<br/>
<br/>
"He could be the world's greatest hacky-sack player!"<br/>
<br/>
You glance past Marc to see that his girlfriend, Hannah Westrick, has plopped into the booth on the other side of him. She's watching Jack too, though she doesn't look like she's into it as much as her boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
Then you have to look over at Wendy. She is leaning back in her seat, arms folded, openly smirking at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Toldja it was Marc," she gloats when she follows you into the girls' room a little later. You had to splash some water on your face because you felt hot and exhausted just watching Jack out there on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you wouldn't have lost the bet anyway, because the next day, when you talk to Jack, he tells you that it wasn't Marc he invited out. <i>My guy didnt show,</i> he texts back when you message him.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That's convenient!</i> you think, but you reply, <i>Poor jack!</i> and ask if you can meet up. He says he'll be happy to see you, if you make the fourth in a game of doubles he's trying to set up for five o'clock. <i>I'm rotten at tennis,</i> you remind him, to which he replies, <i>Thats y I put u with Parker.</i><br/>
<br/>
That lodges you in the cleft of a decision, for you also woke to a second text, this one from Cindy, saying that Fairfax wants to meet with you and her. You put off replying until you'd texted Jack, and you're glad you did, because now you've got an excuse to blow off that business meeting.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211115421211211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Double Game of Doubles
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>I'm sposed to do a thing w jack,</i> you text to Maria Vasquez. (That's who Fairfax currently is.) <i>Want me watching him and reporting or meeting w u?</i><br/>
<br/>
It gives you a thrill when you hit "send," and you do a double-take when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the dresser mirror out of the corner of your eye. The face reflected there—Leah Simmons's—has an elfin grin, and it deepens as you contemplate it. <i>I'm a popular girl! Everyone wants to be my friend!</i><br/>
<br/>
Maria's reply comes twenty minutes later after you've gotten out of the shower. <i>So when can you meet?</i> she wants to know. You tell her you'll set up a time when you know more.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Jack Li whistles sharply and grins as you come hurrying up to the tennis court. "Don't your parents feed you enough?" he calls. "You're nothing but toothpicks and fishing line!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, shut up!" you shout back. "Would you like me better if I was fat?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd like you better if you was on time." Jack shades his eyes and looks past you, up the road. "I'd like it better if Olivia was on time," he adds.<br/>
<br/>
It's a little before five, so you're not actually late, but the tennis courts are only a few blocks from Jack's house, so of course he was waiting for you. There are only two courts, but they are never used, having been put in by the developer as a neighborhood amenity. It's a very nice neighborhood, being on the west side of the river and directly across Carver Road from the country club. And because the courts are a block inside the development, no one except the people who live around here know that they even exist.<br/>
<br/>
"Olivia who?" you ask. "Not Olivia Byrne!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
"She doesn't play tennis!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't either. And how do you know she doesn't? Besides, that's my business,ou're partnered with Parker."<br/>
<br/>
You glance over at the other guy, who's been silently grinning all this time.<br/>
<br/>
"What's up?" you ask. You don't like the prickle that's going up your spine.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing's up," says Jack, who goes back to gazing up the street toward town. "Except a game of tennis."<br/>
<br/>
No, something's up alright, and as far as you're concerned, it's that you're going to be joined by Olivia Byrne, one of the girls on the swim team. If you were in your own skin that would be great, for Olivia has a pretty face, fluffy brunette hair that trails down the back of her slim neck, and curves like you get when a body has been polished long and closely in a stream of water. <br/>
<br/>
But you're not in your own skin. You're in Leah Simmons's skin, and you're thinking with her brain and feeling with her glands, and so the news that Olivia will be joining you is like a trickle of cold water dribbling down your back. Because Jack is right about your physique. Leah dresses in long sleeve shirts and jeans at school because she is extremely skinny, with hardly any muscle on her arms and legs, and her boobs— Well, far from being the kind of breastworks that can stop and hold a guy's gaze, they barely act as speed bumps to slow a glance before it's off and away and onto another girl.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, sure, there are lots of other skinny girls at school, like Ella Swope and Lily Hallet, but they're on the track team so they have an excuse. Leah is <i>not</i> athletic. So if Olivia shows up, looking great in shorts and a sleeveless top, and turns out to be actually good at tennis ... The way that Jack, who looks <i>totally scrumptious</i> in his shorts, and who is also good at tennis ... Well, the headache you feel coming on is going to get a lot worse.<br/>
<br/>
You know that you look unhappy, and before anyone can say anything you wheel on Parker. "What are <i>you</i> smiling at?" you snarl.<br/>
<br/>
His grin widens. "Whoa, who says I'm smiling?"<br/>
<br/>
"You <i>are</i> smiling! Where's Kristina?"<br/>
<br/>
"She has to help her mom. Come on, let's you and me warm up."<br/>
<br/>
You glance at Jack, who with a faint smile is still watching up the road for Olivia, then stomp off with Parker to the far side of the court. You drop to the ground, legs outstretched, and bend forward to grab your toes.<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the deal with Olivia showing up?" you murmur at Parker.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with Olivia?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just answer my question, Parker." You gasp. "<i>You</i> didn't ask her along, did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Because if Kristina found out—"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't ask her. It was Jack's idea."<br/>
<br/>
"Why her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because he wants to win at doubles, I guess. He told me you can't even hit the ball."<br/>
<br/>
"I can hit the ball! Just don't ask me to hit it over the net."<br/>
<br/>
Parker grunts and shifts position. "Well, all I know is I got out here and Jack told me that you and Olivia were coming, and you and me were going to play him and her."<br/>
<br/>
"But why Olivia? He doesn't even know her."<br/>
<br/>
"Jack knows everyone."<br/>
<br/>
"But not like that. And why'd she say yes?" That, it occurs to you, is the even deeper mystery.<br/>
<br/>
"Ask her yourself," Parker says. He bends forward to put his face into his knees. "There she is," he says in a muffled voice.<br/>
<br/>
You glance around. A lemon-yellow Suzuki Ignis, looking like an SUV that shrank in the wash, has pulled up.<br/>
<br/>
And Jack is advancing to meet it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The game that follows was supposed to be "fun," but it wound up being embarrassing and frustrating, on account of you <i>cannot</i> get your racket to connect to the ball. You yourself aren't bad at tennis—it was the one sport you played in PE your sophomore year that you didn't hate, and you keep up a little bit in practice with friends—but Leah has no coordination for it, and you feel yourself tripped up at every turn by her body. It doesn't help that Olivia <i>does</i> look great in a short white skirt and sleeveless top, and she isn't so very bad. Jack and Parker are quite good at it, but you drag your partner down. It's not long before you're hot and flushed, and it's not from running after the ball, but from the humiliation.<br/>
<br/>
Even worse is that everyone is so <i>goddamned nice</i> about it.<br/>
<br/>
Parker ought to yell at you for the way you keep lousing things up, but he just keeps chirping <i>Good try!</i> or <i>Now you're getting it!</i> even when you put the ball straight into the net. The really hideous part is that you're so bad that he can't even figure out how to give you any constructive advice.<br/>
<br/>
Jack, on the other side of the net, doesn't say anything, but only smiles benignly when you screw up a serve. <br/>
<br/>
And Olivia— Well, at least she has the grace to look embarrassed. And after awhile, when she's stopped staring at you with a slightly aghast expression, and has started shooting Jack little covert glances, it dawns on you that the game is probably even worse for her than it is for you, because she feels bad for you but doesn't feel like she knows you well enough to say anything.<br/>
<br/>
Pretty soon it's all just a grim exercise to get through—like a final exam.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're relieved when play gets cut short after only forty-five minutes or so, and you're glad it's Jack and not Parker or Olivia who calls an end to things. But you're still not real happy, because it looks like he's cutting it short for Olivia's sake rather than yours. At least, that's the impression you get when he suggests "changing partners" and "doing something else," but then follows Olivia out to her car, and spends almost five minutes leaning in and talking to her through the driver's side window. Not until you catch Parker giving you a pained look do you realize you've been staring them and ignoring him while putting your things away.<br/>
<br/>
And then Jack tries to sneak off without talking to you, even without telling you where he's going. You race over to catch up to him at his minivan.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, you owe me!" you snarl, and poke him in the chest. "That was fifty different kinds of awful out there, and you need to tell me what was going on!"<br/>
<br/>
"We were playing tennis. Well, that's what the rest of us were doing, I don't know what <i>you</i> were doing, sweetheart." He tries tweaking your nose, but you brush him off.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean with you and Olivia!" The retort grinds out between your clenched teeth. You jab him in the chest again.<br/>
<br/>
He tenses and tenses a little. "Nothing's going on with us," he says. "At least, not yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Not yet? What does that mean?"<br/>
<br/>
Jack gives you a long, flinty, searching look.<br/>
<br/>
Then he floors you with his reply.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm thinking of asking her to go out with me."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111154212112112
author_id: seuzz
title: Piled Higher, So Digging Deeper
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>OMG!</i> Jack is thinking of asking Olivia Byrne—sexy, shapely swimmer Olivia Byrne?—to go out with him? Like, going-steady-going-out?<br/>
<br/>
You feel your eyes straining from their sockets.<br/>
<br/>
"But Jack," you blurt out. "You're gay!"<br/>
<br/>
His gaze hardens just the tiniest bit. "Yeah, I think I know that."<br/>
<br/>
"So why—? I mean—" It's like the words are getting caught in your teeth. "So if you're asking her out— You mean to hang out? Like you and me do?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a very long and level look, but you return it with a defiant stare.<br/>
<br/>
Then he squints off into the distance. "If you're going to be stupid about this, Leah, then I don't wanna talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
Your own anger flares. <i>Fine!</i> you want to yell at him. <i>If you just want to push me away—!</i><br/>
<br/>
But you can't say that.<br/>
<br/>
You could apologize instead. <i>I'm sorry, Jack, I didn't mean anything, you just surprised me is all. But if you want to go out with her or whatever, you go do it.</i><br/>
<br/>
That wouldn't be enough either. Because what you want to do is <i>dig.</i> Dig into what this all means.<br/>
<br/>
Dig into what it means that Jack Li wants to date ... a girl!<br/>
<br/>
"Jack." You grip him gently on the forearm. "Can we go hang out someplace? Go someplace and talk, just the two of us? Because—" You bite your lip. "I feel like this is my fault."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Of course, you don't really need to dig to figure out what is going on with Jack. It's as obvious to you as it is to him.<br/>
<br/>
What's going on is that this is <i>not</i> Jack Li.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, he looks like Jack Li and he can even talk and move like Jack Li. But this is really Gordon Black, the (apparently!) very straight captain of the school basketball team, who you and your friends have trapped inside a facsimile of Jack Li's body. You wanted to find out what would happen if you turned Gordon into a gay guy, and now it looks like you've got your answer.<br/>
<br/>
So you could, and maybe you should, report to Philip Fairfax. There is probably nothing more to be learned by talking to Jack. If he has anything more to say, it'll just be a lot of bullshit that he feels like he has to tell you in order to get you to believe that the very gay Jack Li suddenly wants to go out with a girl.<br/>
<br/>
But that bullshit is probably something that Fairfax would want to know. More data for the data geek, amirite?<br/>
<br/>
And, anyway, since you're inhabiting the skin of Leah Simmons, one of Jack's best friends, you feel yourself lashed by her instincts, so you're dying with curiosity to find out what "Jack" would have to say about this crazy twist he's pitched you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He had already made plans to meet up with Olivia at Panera for salad and sandwiches, and he refuses to cancel to cancel on her, but he does agree to meet up with you later. "We can go dancing again," he tries suggesting. "Out at the Warehouse. You can have fun trying to figure out which of the guys out there is my secret crush." <br/>
<br/>
But <i>that isn't funny,</i> you tell him. <i>I want to talk, and you </i>need<i> to talk about this!</i> <br/>
<br/>
By the time he's able to get away from you, Jack looks like a cat whose fur has been scraped the wrong way, but he has agreed to meet up with you after he leaves Panera. "Let's make it the municipal library," he says. "I know you hate that place, so we won't be there long."<br/>
<br/>
So you have to play coy with people like Brianna and Laura MacGregor when they start pestering you about Saturday night plans, and you pretend that your parents are making your life difficult. In fact, you have to start fielding those texts almost as soon as Jack leaves (they were backing up on your phone during the tennis game) so that you miss your chance to talk to Parker about what Jack said, to get his perspective on whether anything has been "off" about Jack lately. (And you make a mental note to most definitely have that conversation with him.)<br/>
<br/>
With nothing else to do, you drive out to the library early, and a very antsy time you have of it while waiting for Jack, even after you remember that they have a pretty good fantasy and science fiction section. Alas, Leah doesn't much like those genres, and you have to fight her distaste for them along with your impatience as you try to kill an hour.<br/>
<br/>
And when that hour is up, you have to kill another thirty minutes.<br/>
<br/>
And then you have to kill another ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
By the time Jack finally texts to say he's on his way, he's an hour late. You're waiting for him just inside the front doors when he comes strolling in, hands in his pockets, dressed in nice khaki slacks and a soft, billowy button-up shirt. He looks strong, confident, and sexy.<br/>
<br/>
And you have to fight down a secret grin at Gordon Black's expense, because there's just enough sway in his stride to make him look gay.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," he says, "So I'm only here to pick you up. We're going to the Warehouse."<br/>
<br/>
"Who's 'we'?" you demand. "Just you and me? Or is Olivia out in the car with you?"<br/>
<br/>
His jaw tightens. "She's meeting us out there."<br/>
<br/>
"When? Because it isn't even eight o'clock, and nothing's gonna get started out there until ten or eleven at the earliest. So we got two hours to talk."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs—a strangled sound. "We can't talk in the library."<br/>
<br/>
"We can talk outside. Come on."<br/>
<br/>
"Where are we going?" he asks, for instead of tugging him back out the front door, you're pulling him inside.<br/>
<br/>
"Where I go when I <i>absolutely have</i> to come up here, and can't scream my way out of it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's an outside seating area up on the second floor, on the other side of a pair of glass doors: like a wide, long, concrete balcony that stretches halfway around the library perimeter, overlooking the parking lot. There's wrought-iron chairs and wrought-iron tables out there, so you can read and eat one of the sandwiches or drink one of the smoothies that the library sells in its cafe. But it's dark now, and you and Jack have it to yourself. With no one to eavesdrop, and wrapped in the blanket of night, it seems like the perfect place to share confessions and confidences.<br/>
<br/>
You have to get him to relax first, though. After he's fallen into a chair, you drop into his lap and drape your arms loosely around his neck. He gives a start of surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not letting you get up," you inform him, "until it's all better."<br/>
<br/>
"What's all better?" he grunts. "Nothing's wrong."<br/>
<br/>
"There's plenty wrong. For a start, you're mad at me for making you come out here to talk."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not mad. I just want to go dancing."<br/>
<br/>
"And you're trying to get back at me, or something."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?" His tone is grumpy, but he sounds genuinely puzzled.<br/>
<br/>
"For all the shit I've been giving you. About eye-fucking the basketball team."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. That."<br/>
<br/>
"And for making you invite your secret crush out to Legends last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I didn't invite him. And he didn't show up."<br/>
<br/>
"Pah! I knew it! But you're still mad at me."<br/>
<br/>
"No I'm not, Leah." He wriggles beneath you. <i>If he stood up,</i> you think, <i>I couldn't hold him down. If he stood up and I hung onto him, he'd just scoop me up and hold me in his arms.</i> The thought, somehow, thrills you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes you are, but you won't admit it."<br/>
<br/>
"You've given me worse shit before—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm the straw that broke your camel's back."<br/>
<br/>
That catches him short. "What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"You and Olivia. I've been giving you shit, and now you want to start pretending you're not gay anymore. I <i>broke</i> something in you, Jack!"<br/>
<br/>
The words are coming out in a rush, from where you do not know. From Leah's instincts, probably. Your heart is beating very hard, and you don't know why. Again, you can only guess that it's Leah's own reaction to sitting here, in Jack's lap, with her arms around him, and being hurtfully truthful with him. "You're mad at me," you continue, "but you're taking it out on yourself. You're hurting <i>yourself</i>, Jack, if you—" You find yourself gulping. "If you're trying to <i>not be gay on account of the teasing I've been giving you!"</i><br/>
<br/>
There's a long silence. Jack's eyes are dark as black coffee with only the thinnest rim of white around the pupils, and beneath the fold of his lids, in the darkness, his expression is even more inscrutable than it usually is. But you can tell that he's studying you very hard.<br/>
<br/>
But when he speaks, it's in a very light tone. "Are you jealous, Leah?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You pull back. "What? Of who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of Olivia."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, dur!</i> Leah screams inside your skull. <i>Of course I'm jealous!</i><br/>
<br/>
But aloud you say, "Why would I be jealous of Olivia?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I told her all my woes. The one's I've never even told you."<br/>
<br/>
You are nearly overcome by a wave of dizziness. <i>Jack confided in </i>Olivia Byrne<i> of all people? And not in me?</i><span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121111542121121121
author_id: seuzz
title: Hijacked from the Inside
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>For an instant you are overwhelmed by a dizzying vertigo. <i>My name is Will Prescott,</i> you think as you grab for something firm. <i>And what the hell am I doing here, sitting in his guy's lap?</i><br/>
<br/>
You are wearing a mask—the face and form of a girl—and you're clasping your arms around the neck of another mask-wearer. You are pretending to be a girl, and you're pretending you don't know that the guy you're with is also pretending.<br/>
<br/>
It suddenly seems all very silly, like an elementary school-yard game that has gotten out of hand. <i>I'm tired of all this,</i> you feel yourself wanting to say. <i>Let's play something else.</i><br/>
<br/>
But you're stuck now.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not jealous," you tell the guy who looks like Jack Li. "Except—"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
You shut your eyes and bury your nose in his lush, clean hair. You say nothing, playing for time as you try to center yourself and recover your "sense" of being Leah.<br/>
<br/>
After a moment, Jack, who has been holding aloof, puts his arms loosely around you.<br/>
<br/>
"You told all your woes to Olivia?" you mumble into his hair.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
You lift your face. "You told all your woes to Olivia?"<br/>
<br/>
"Most of them. Well—"<br/>
<br/>
"Stuff you haven't told me?"<br/>
<br/>
He sighs, deeply. "You want me to tell you?"<br/>
<br/>
You put your face back in his hair, and nod. <i>Keep him talking,</i> you think. <i>It's safer than me talking.</i><br/>
<br/>
"We just talked, her and me," he says. "About school and stuff. We talked about guys. I asked her if she was going out with anyone. She said no. She's just seeing guys casually, she said."<br/>
<br/>
Again he sighs. "She asked if I was seeing anyone." He hesitates. "I said no, and I wasn't even seeing anyone casually."<br/>
<br/>
<i>If this was really Jack,</i> you think, <i>and I was really Leah, this is the point where I'd kiss him on the top of the head.</i><br/>
<br/>
So you do.<br/>
<br/>
"And then we just started talking about guys dating guys, and the assholes in the drama department."<br/>
<br/>
So far, nothing that Leah doesn't know or heard from Jack himself. But oh! to have been at Panera with them as he shared it all with Olivia! To have listened as the hulking, brutish Gordon Black, trapped in the role of Jack Li, recapitulated all Jack's frustrations at <i>not having a boyfriend</i>; at having to be careful not to seem to "come on" to guys he likes as friends; voicing the resentment and anger at Charles Hartlein and his squad of prissy gay assholes.<br/>
<br/>
But that's the puzzle, and that's what you really want to know: Why would <i>Gordon</i> go through this pretending, which must have been awful for him? He has to do it with his friends, if he wants to stay in character and not make his life even weirder. But why go out of his way to do the act with a girl he doesn't have to do it with?<br/>
<br/>
"So," you ask, "how does this lead up to you thinking about going out with Olivia?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it doesn't have to be Olivia. It can be any girl."<br/>
<br/>
You bolt upright. "Any girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
The objection—<i>But you're gay!</i>—freezes in your throat.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, you say, "What?"<br/>
<br/>
He sighs again. This time it's short and sharp.<br/>
<br/>
"I've gotten really tired of all the 'But you're gay' bullshit, Leah," he says, as though he's read your mind. "Maybe you're right, maybe something you said did 'break' something in me. I <i>want</i> somebody, I want to be close to somebody, I want somebody I can hold and talk to." He <i>is</i> holding and talking to someone—you—but he's acting like he doesn't even realize it.<br/>
<br/>
His tone turns bitter. "I want to have a little secret club, like other people have, where it's just the two of us." He squirms beneath you. "And I'm thinking, if I really want that, maybe I need to stop being so picky about whether they have a dick or not."<br/>
<br/>
You lean back to scrutinize his face. His expression is as impassive as ever, and the rumble of the nearby traffic is like the voice of inarticulate, unspoken thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
"But you've <i>got</i> friends already, Jack," you protest. "You've got me, and Brianna and Genesis, and— Why Olivia?"<br/>
<br/>
He digs his tongue around inside his cheek before answering. "I'd be trying something new," he says. "So maybe it makes sense to do it with someone new."<br/>
<br/>
"What would you be doing that's new? I mean, talking, hanging out with, sitting around, like, with her in your lap even. What would you be doing with her that you don't do with—"<br/>
<br/>
You trail off as the answer heaves itself over the horizon of your consciousness, like an eldritch thing.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God, Jack!" you exclaim. "Are you going to—? Were you thinking about—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"You <i>are?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I didn't say anything. I'm asking you to finish that sentence, is all. Say it," he challenges you. "Am I thinking about doing what?"<br/>
<br/>
It's such a Jack-like thing for this not-Jack person to say that you have to spring from his lap in horror. "Oh my God," you murmur to cover up your confusion. "Did you tell Olivia that—? What <i>did</i> you tell her?"<br/>
<br/>
He stretches his long, strong legs in front of him and slides deeper into his chair.<br/>
<br/>
"I told her I'm gay and I know I'm gay. You know, what I've been telling people since forever. But I also told her I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't be— I don't know. That maybe I shouldn't be <i>insisting</i> on it so hard."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him. After a long minute you realize your mouth is hanging open, and shut it with a snap. "You told her," you stammer, "that you want to try ... <i>ulp!</i> S-sleeping with a girl?"<br/>
<br/>
It's too dark out here, on the balcony-patio, to read Jack's expression. But you can well imagine the characteristic tightening of the skin around his eyes as he replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he drawls, "I asked her to get up on the table and pull down her panties so I could fuck her doggie-style, right there, in the middle of the restaurant."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So it looks like he's going to try to change Jack's sexuality!"<br/>
<br/>
You grip the steering wheel so tight that your knuckles whiten. Even now, Sunday afternoon, you can hardly register the shock you feel at Gordon's plans for Jack Li.<br/>
<br/>
But Cindy Vredenburg, who's riding shotgun, sounds unimpressed.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, dur," she says. "That's what I'd do if I was in his place. Hell, I was thinking seriously about coming out as lesbian"—she titters—"till Fairfax told me I couldn't. What a shock that would'a been to Seth!"<br/>
<br/>
You shoot her an exasperated glance. Keith just can't stop talking about himself and Cindy's body, he's totally uninterested in anything or anyone else. It pisses you off.<br/>
<br/>
Then you do a double take at him. Cindy's body is like cream. You could kiss and suck on her long, bare legs all day, or nuzzle her firm, snowy boobs, and bury your face in her ivory-like neck. In fact, you now wonder why you haven't asked Keith to let you put your mouth and fingers onto him, to let you get a taste of a girl you've often fantasized about from afar.  Friends should share with friends, right?<br/>
<br/>
But before you can gather the extra ten percent of the courage you need in order to ask, Cindy says, "But Fairfax had a better idea, to just dick around with him," and that jerks you out of your reverie.<br/>
<br/>
You're on your way up to the school now, to have that long-delayed conference with the leader of your confederacy of imposters. You definitely have something to report, and Leah's psyche is champing and slobbering to gossip about Jack's confession, only you're pretty sure you shouldn't be sharing it with his and Leah's friends. So this morning you were up pretty early (only a little after ten!) after a short Saturday night, to text Maria to say you wanted to get together to talk. Fairfax put you off until the afternoon, though, and asked if you could give Cindy a ride up to the same meeting.<br/>
<br/>
So there's something up with Keith, too. Only he's being very coy about it. <i>Should've been at the meeting yesterday,</i> he loftily said when you pressed him about what was up.<br/>
<br/>
Well, fine. It just gave you a chance to practice your report on him. Only the fucker sounds totally uninterested.<br/>
<br/>
There's no cars parked by the gym when you arrive, but Cindy tells you to park in the corner of the lot by the tennis courts, because even on weekends the slots right up against the gym are reserved for the patrons of the fuck room. And she makes a point of <i>leading</i> you inside instead of walking by your side. She hasn't got a key to the fuck room itself, though, so you have to wait downstairs on the bleachers for Maria to arrive. You ask if there's any chance of Gordon—the new Gordon—showing up, then follow up by asking how Jack is doing in his new situation. But she remains tight-lipped. <i>That's part of the plan for today,</i> she says.<br/>
<br/>
Maria's not long in arriving, and she gives Cindy a key and sends her upstairs while she remains below to listen to your report. She takes it all in impassively and with what looks like a complete lack of surprise. "Well, keep us posted," she says when you're done.<br/>
<br/>
"Is there anything you want me to <i>do?</i>" you ask. It bothers you. Fairfax was so impatient to get together with you before, but now he sounds like he can barely be bothered with you.<br/>
<br/>
"Just continue to observe the situation," Maria says. Then she cocks her head. "Can you do that from your current position? Or do you think Olivia would now provide a better vantage?"<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211115421211211211
author_id: seuzz
title: On the Outside, Peering In
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Shift to Olivia?</i> You wonder at Fairfax's suggestion. It sounds like he's asking you to take on a third identity. A fourth, if you include your own original name and body.<br/>
<br/>
That just sounds too complicated, so you shake your head. "I can stick it out here. I don't think there's anything I could find out as Olivia that I can't find out as Leah."<br/>
<br/>
Maria nods. "You're the best judge of the situation, of course." Then she glances back over her shoulder, toward the exit. "You probably better go now. It would be weird trying to explain why you're here."<br/>
<br/>
You tense. "Why? What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't Keith tell you? Steve's on his way over."<br/>
<br/>
"Steve? Patterson?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to use him as Keith's second. We decided on it yesterday," she adds, as though to emphasize that you'd be up to speed—and might even be involved—if you hadn't blown off the meeting yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the story? I thought— Well, I got the impression Keith wanted to stick it out as Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon needs close observation. The new Gordon, I mean. He's not talking to the girls in his life, not even to Chelsea. Steve is his best friend, so Keith is going to do the job." She pauses. "You'd better go."<br/>
<br/>
So you gather yourself up, though your mind is in a whirl. It's not until you're back in your car that you put the three pieces together—Maria, Cindy, and Steve—and see in a glance exactly <i>how</i> Fairfax and Tilley are planning to catch and replace Patterson. It gives you a shiver.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you've now got the rest of the day free—the last day of the weekend—and you text Jack to see about getting together. Maybe he feels like he's seen enough of you the past few days, because he puts you off with the excuse that he'll get back to you after he's made plans. You're tempted to call an emergency meeting of all your girlfriends so you can tell them about Jack and his plan to turn himself straight, but both Leah's instincts and your own sense that that would be a bad idea. So you're stuck scrolling through your contact list for someone to hang out with.<br/>
<br/>
It's not until you've run a couple of times past Parker's name that you remember your determination to talk privately with him about Jack.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"T'sup?" Parker calls as he comes sauntering out to the curb to meet you. He was out on his porch, waiting for you when you pulled up, already dressed out in shorts and knee pads, but his roller blades and helmet are still in his hands. <br/>
<br/>
You've got your own with you, of course. Roller blading through his neighborhood was the idea you came up with when you talked to him earlier. It sounds casual and fun, and you figured it was a good way of getting him off alone someplace for the talk you want to have without it seeming like "a talk" was the whole point of meeting up with him.<br/>
<br/>
"Just killing time until, you know, something else is going to happen." You lean against the car to pull your own blades on, and he settles in next to you. "You heard from anyone else?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just a couple of people," he grunts. "Kristina's doing something with Wendy."<br/>
<br/>
"You heard from Jack?"<br/>
<br/>
"I texted him. He said he'd get back to me."<br/>
<br/>
You give Parker a sidelong look as you pull your blades on. He reminds you of your archenemy, Geoff Mansfield. (Not that you've thought much about Mansfield these past few weeks, it seems like. But after the shenanigans he pulled with Lisa, getting her away from you, you still can't help thinking of the smug bastard as your "archenemy.") Like Mansfield, Parker Stott is tall and dark-haired and handsome in a preppy kind of way, and always neatly groomed and well-spoken. He takes AP classes. But he's not a snotty son of a bitch, even if he is kind of reserved.<br/>
<br/>
Briefly flashes the thought <i>Maybe I should switch with him to get close to Jack, the way Keith is switching with Patterson to get close to Gordon.</i> But you push it away, like you pushed away the thought of switching with Olivia, as a complication too far. But you don't discard it, exactly.<br/>
<br/>
"Ready?" Parker says after you and he have got your blades and helmets on. You nod, and the two of glide out slowly into the street. He's very confident, but he waits up for you, for you're a lot more wobbly.<br/>
<br/>
Parker lives in the same subdivision as Jack—one reason they've been close friends for, like, ten years now—close to the country club, so the streets are wide and empty, the houses big, and the yards lush. It's a slow, lazy afternoon, but the weather, now that you're out in it, is all wrong for roller blading. All last week was rainy, which finally seems to have broken summer's hold and let autumn in, for the temperature is only in the mid-fifties, and broken clouds hide the sun. But you're dressed in a track suit—long pants and long sleeves—so at least you're warm enough.<br/>
<br/>
You let Parker take the lead, but he seems to have no plan, and silently, side by side, you glide up one street and down another, passing the neighborhood tennis courts—empty as usual—a couple of times from all different directions.<br/>
<br/>
It's the fourth time you're passing them that you tell Parker you want to stop to catch your breath. He smoothly turns and slides up to the tall chain-link fence that surrounds the court, and you follow. He stays on his feet, holding the fence for support, while you drop onto your butt.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh," you sigh as you gulp in a couple of deep breaths. "It's been too long since I've done this."<br/>
<br/>
"Been a long time for me too."<br/>
<br/>
"But you're in shape for it. All those gym classes." He only smiles. "Do you guys still go out to the gym on weekends?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never miss it. You thinking of joining us?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "Don't think I could." You bite and hold your tongue for a moment before plunging into what you really want to talk about. "How's Jack doing?"<br/>
<br/>
Parker blinks. "Fine, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't seem like he's been in a mood?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh." You glance around, wishing you'd brought a water bottle with you.<br/>
<br/>
"Does it seem like to you that he's been in a mood?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of." You wince inwardly. You don't want to talk about Jack, you want <i>Parker</i> to talk about Jack.<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, just little vibes I get off him. Like he's got something on his mind. You getting any vibes off him? Anything a little ... off?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe it's just me." You feel yourself starting to vibrate all over. "He seems kind of quiet, you know? Preoccupied." You squint up at Parker. "Does he seem that way to you?"<br/>
<br/>
Parker only shrugs. "I don't know. Hadn't really noticed."<br/>
<br/>
"Like on Friday night, at Legends? I mean, he danced and all. But he seemed kind of moody, didn't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
Parker shrugs again. "Not that I really noticed." But  he's starting to look a little anxious.<br/>
<br/>
Now you feel like you're out on a ledge, and maybe over the lip of it, hanging in mid air. Parker's going to wonder why you're pushing him this way. "Did he tell you what he did that night?"<br/>
<br/>
"What he did?" Parker now at last gives you a direct look.<br/>
<br/>
"He asked his secret crush to meet him out there."<br/>
<br/>
Parker says nothing, but only stares. After a moment, his eyebrows go up. "Jack has a secret crush?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh sure. Everyone does. And he—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's <i>your</i> secret crush?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're not talking about me. Anyway, Jack asked his secret crush out to Legends Friday night. I think that's how come he was in a mood, because the guy didn't show up."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know anything about that."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't he talk to you about this stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"We just talk about guy stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought guys were always talking sex."<br/>
<br/>
Now he squirms, visibly, and stammers. "Well, he and I don't, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess I'm just worried about him, is all. Like, he took a really big step the other night, and it didn't work out, so he might be, um, you know." You shrug. "In a mood about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I say, I hadn't noticed." Parker licks his lips. "He seemed fine yesterday when we played tennis."<br/>
<br/>
"Did he talk to you about Olivia?"<br/>
<br/>
Now he's looking harassed. "No. What about Olivia?"<br/>
<br/>
"He followed her out to her car to talk. And <i>then</i> he went out and ate supper with her at Panera."<br/>
<br/>
"So?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess if you don't know nothing—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't get any of this stuff you're talking about, Leah. Me and Jack are friends, but I'm not, like, constantly taking his temperature or anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, then you'd know, wouldn't you?" You smile up brightly at him. "I mean, with you and him being friends. If there was anything, you know, moody about him, or if he seemed like he was acting weird, you'd notice. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I ... guess?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Well, come on." You grab the fence and hoist yourself to your feet. "I got my breath back."<br/>
<br/>
But now it's Parker who looks exhausted and gray in the face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
No plans develop that evening, or if they do, they develop without you, and you wind up calling up a few girlfriends and arrange to hang out at a coffeeshop for a spell, so you can all (supposedly) finish your weekend homework. The group includes Brianna Kirschke and Genesis Lee and Hermione Gilbert. But you also make a point of badgering Wendy Terrill until she also joins you, late. That's all so you can get her alone, in the restroom, to oh-so-casually put to her the same questions you put to Parker: Has Jack seemed a little moody lately?<br/>
<br/>
<i>No,</i> she tells you.<br/>
<br/>
So it looks like Gordon has everyone fooled. But how long will that last after he tries to make Jack Li straight?<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11331211121121111111321213232231111121321221112111154212112112112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Tracker, Trapped
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Sunday night. Ten o'clock.</i> You're just pulling into the driveway at home when you get a text from Steve Patterson. <i>Hey lil girl, u doing any thing? Cum up to school let me introduce myself.</i><br/>
<br/>
You spend two minutes hunting for the vomit emoji before giving up and replying with <i>Yuk no.</i> You quickly follow with, <i>How u get my number?<br/>
<br/>
Ur friend cindy I think u n me n her can all be good friends wat u say?</i><br/>
<br/>
Fucker. Why did Tilley have to wait until he got himself Steve Patterson's body before volunteering to get "friendly" with you? Even the thought of having Cindy around doesn't make Patterson's sausage any more enticing.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Talk u later,</i> you reply, <i>but not at school too weird there.<br/>
<br/>
Cool wanna get alone time w u anyway.</i> Steve closes with a grin-emoji. You bang your head against the steering wheel a couple of times.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Monday morning brings thunderstorms. They augment your mood—the air feels charged with thunder. You go looking for Jack early, in his first-period classroom.<br/>
<br/>
It's an AP Physics class, and you do a little double-take when you spot some of your old friends—Caleb, Carson Ioeger, and James Lamont—in there, huddled up in a corner and talking quietly to each other. They don't notice you, though, as you stalk over to hover over Jack at his desk.<br/>
<br/>
"What did you do last night?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He looks up from his phone. "Oh, hey. I stayed in and watched a movie."<br/>
<br/>
"Alone?"<br/>
<br/>
He shifts a little to glance past you. You're just turning to see what he's looking at when you're pressed from behind and almost pushed into Jack's lap. You catch yourself and look around to see Steve Patterson brushing past. He glances back at you with a heavy smirk, and chucks his chin at you. You flush and—<br/>
<br/>
And you catch the look on Jack's face. It's the very definition of "poker face." A gleeful bit of malice suggests itself to you, and you poke him in the shoulder. "Come on," you tell him, "I wanna talk to you out in the hall."<br/>
<br/>
"What about?"<br/>
<br/>
"About Olivia. And something else, you'll wanna hear. Come <i>on</i>," you insist when he doesn't move. "You'll kill yourself afterward if you don't let me tell you about it now."<br/>
<br/>
Jack sighs and levers himself to his feet.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't have anyone over," he says when you've got him in the hall, which is packed with crowds of students meandering along like a muddy river. "It was just me and the movie I was streaming. I haven't even texted Olivia if—"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck that. I wanted to tell you about Steve Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
"Steve?" His brow furrows.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I didn't know you had a class with him. The big, stupid dick. What's he even doing in an AP class? Does he even know how to count to twenty-one without unzipping his pants?"<br/>
<br/>
Jack's lips disappear into a prim frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God," you cry, "he's not your secret crush is he? Is he?"<br/>
<br/>
He flushes—an angry color—and his eyes glitter. "That is so not funny, Simmons, in so many ways."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright! But I wanted to tell you he texted me last night. Oh, God, it was that bitch Cindy's fault. She gave him my number and he texted me and—" You glance past Jack, into the classroom. Steve, who is six-feet-five at least, is sprawled in a desk that looks like it was built for a ten-year-old, reading his cell phone. "And basically," you finish, "he asked me up to the school for a ride on his—" You catch yourself. "Well, he invited me up here to have some fun!"<br/>
<br/>
Jack is giving you a very level look. You recognize it as the kind of look he gets when he is searching for something very withering to say. <i>Gordon's probably about to burn out a ball bearing,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
"So. Did you hook up with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Don't be gross!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's gross? I hear he's pretty impressive. I thought you liked that kind of thing."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you did too! Shit, I'm sorry," you add as Jack flushes even more deeply. "I didn't mean that. Don't be mad at me."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not mad at you," he says, but the ropes of saliva now forming between his teeth suggest that he is, "but only because I don't believe you."<br/>
<br/>
"You think I'm lying?"<br/>
<br/>
He puts out his hand. "Show me the texts, or it didn't happen."<br/>
<br/>
Before you can stop yourself, you haul out your phone, scroll to the offending messages, and slap it into his hand. He studies them with an expression that's like a mask.<br/>
<br/>
But a trickle of sweat is beading on the back of your head even before he asks, "What's this about meeting up with him outside school?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? I didn't—" You grab at the phone, but Jack yanks it away. "Where does it say—?"<br/>
<br/>
"'I'll talk to you later but not at school too weird there'," he reads off your phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I don't want to see him at school!"<br/>
<br/>
"But you'll see him outside of school."<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"But you said—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay!" you holler. "Maybe I do want to see him outside of school! Because I hear he's really impressive"—you grapple with Jack, and manage to pry your phone from him—"and I'm really into that kind of thing!"<br/>
<br/>
Your face feels like it's going to burn off the front of your skull as you storm away.<br/>
<br/>
Jack never once smiled or grinned or leered at you, like he was enjoying a joke. And that, somehow, is even worse than the way your prank at Gordon's expense—making him feel awkward by pushing his oblivious best friend in his face—went sideways.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are so embarrassed by it all, in fact, that you skip having lunch with him and Parker and the girls. But he texts you just before the start of last period, to ask you to meet him in the student parking lot when classes are out.<br/>
<br/>
"So, I'm sorry I got you mad this morning," he says when you catch up to him. He is looking very tall, cool, and poised, and not at all abashed or apologetic. "Friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Of course."<br/>
<br/>
He lowers his face, and touches his forehead to yours. "Mean it?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help feeling a thrill. "Always, Jack!" you assure him.<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. So, can we hang out tonight, get some studying done together?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure! You want me to get Wendy and—?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, just the two of us."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Really?</i> you wonder. Jack usually likes to do his studying in big groups. Jack likes to do <i>everything</i> in big groups.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay. Um, where do you want to—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll call you, come pick you up. Round about eight or so. We'll go off and—" He brushes a loose lock of hair from your eyebrow. "And we'll figure some hard problems out together."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." That last line sounded like code. But Jack doesn't elaborate, and gives you a quick, quizzical smile before sauntering off. You stare after him as he goes.<br/>
<br/>
He looks good from any angle, but his ass is one of his best features.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Jack's invite has left you completely flustered, so flustered that you can only smother it by actually concentrating on your schoolwork when you get home. Of course you're distracted a dozen or so times by texts from your girlfriends, and by some pestering from Steve, who won't be put off until you promise to meet up with him on Wednesday night at the gym, but you manage to finish all your school work by suppertime, which leaves you anxious and twitching until Jack finally pulls up in your driveway at a little before eight.<br/>
<br/>
You try making small talk on the drive into town, but Jack hardly replies, and only nods when you confess that you actually got all your school work done already. You don't ask where he's taking you, but you're not surprised to find yourself up at the municipal library again. Nor are you surprised when he leads you out onto that dark and deserted balcony-patio—the scene of that earlier confession.<br/>
<br/>
He drops his backpack onto a table and drops his lovely butt into one of the wrought-iron chairs. You sit opposite him, expectantly. He smiles at you, then pats his lap. "Come here," he says. "I want to talk to you." So you move over and sit on his lap, straddling him and looking him in the face. He rests his hands on your hips.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't like the idea of me and Olivia, do you?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I mean—!" You were already flustered with anxiety, but his blunt manner has you completely baffled. "It's your business, Jack, I—"<br/>
<br/>
"But I could tell. And I think you're right. You told me I had all kinds of girl friends already, I didn't need to make a new one if I wanted to, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"To what?" you prompt him.<br/>
<br/>
He seems to wrestle with himself, looking for the right words.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you what I wanted," he finally says. "A soul mate. Or a special someone, if 'soul mate' is too much. But, the thing is, I don't think I can be that with someone if I can't— Um— Express it," he stammers. "Physically."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," you say. "I think you said something about that too."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. And I'm serious. I want to be able to— But the thing is, I really don't know if I can. I mean, I don't know that you know this, Leah, but I'm <i>gay.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Then why is your dick nosing at me?</i> you want to ask.<br/>
<br/>
Jack sighs. "I was going to tell all this to Olivia, but I've been thinking about what you said. And you know, Leah, you and me are friends. About as best friends as we can be. We're already ninety percent of the way to being, you know, special someones with each other. But the other ten percent—"<br/>
<br/>
Finally he blurts it out. "I have to know that I can satisfy you. I'd have to <i>try it</i> with you."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113312111211211111113212132322311111213212211121112
author_id: seuzz
title: What Goes Up Should Come Down
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I like the idea of doing something to someone," you say when no one offers any other suggestions. "You know, pulling them down, opposite of what you were doing with, er, me."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart is beating hard as you speak. <i>Wow,</i> you find yourself thinking. <i>There's no way I could suggest my own idea, not if I'm this nervous just seconding someone else's.</i><br/>
<br/>
Maria frowns. "That seems kind of mean, don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"Seth deserves anything we'd do to him," Cindy declares.<br/>
<br/>
"Does it have to be Seth?" Eva asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Who else would it be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, there's really no point in doing it to Seth," Jessica says, jumping in. "I mean, it wouldn't really be Seth, right? It'd be beta-Seth. What's the point of—?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna be switching into his mask at some point, aren't you?" Eva asks Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
"Pff. Fuck, no." Cindy tosses her hair. "Why would I wanna stuff myself up inside an asshole's asshole?"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't have to be Seth," someone says, and it takes you a moment to realize that it's you speaking. "It could be someone else we do it to."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Maybe— I don't know." You sag.<br/>
<br/>
All the energy seems to dribble from the room, and the meeting breaks up soon after. Even Keith—who walks with you out to the car—doesn't seem enthusiastic over the idea of ruining Javits's social cred. "Meh," he says when you're outside. "I don't know why we can't just keep doing what we're doing."<br/>
<br/>
"Giving me a social life?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're on your own with that, Will. I mean, why do we even need a project? Why can't we just keep on being these girls? Don't you think that's enough?"<br/>
<br/>
Before you can answer, she leans backwards, and suddenly her long, slim legs are where her head should be; her skirt flips and flashes whitely in the night. Then she's on her feet again, tossing back sheets of platinum hair. You almost swallow your tongue.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't gimme that kind of look, Prescott," she snorts. "You had a chance at having a body like this." She squeezes her breasts. "Though I guess with all of us getting another beta, you still got a chance at scoring one."<br/>
<br/>
You still haven't recovered your voice before she's gotten in her car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Where's Will eating these days?" you ask the group the next day at lunch. Caleb, who is just settling onto the grass near you, pauses with his ass hanging in the air, and gives you a black look.<br/>
<br/>
Carson answers with a question of his own: "Where's Jessica eating these days?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm asking about Will," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm asking about Jessica. I don't give a fuck about Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"She eats in the cafeteria with her friends," Paul Davis. He gives you a worried look—what for, you don't know.<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't we her friends?" Carson honks. "Ashton, aren't you asking her out to your birthday party next weekend? Her and Eva?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but what's that got to do with—?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos if they weren't our friends you wouldn't ask them out, would you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you asking <i>me</i> to this party?" Caleb demands of you. "'Cos this is the first I've heard about it."<br/>
<br/>
"And it'll be the last you hear about it, too," Carson snarls at him, "unless you straighten out that piece of shit Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb reddens. "What's Will got to do with—?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're either with him or with us, Johansson!" Carson barks.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" You slap Carson in the shoulder. "What's got into you?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to hear about it, Ashton," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"I do so!"<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny," James says, and with a lowered brow gives you a warning shake of the head.<br/>
<br/>
"God!" You gape at the boys. "What's gotten into you guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nuffing," Carson mutters around the sandwich he's shoved in his mouth. Paul gives you a wet, anxious look. Caleb and James lean back and stare up into the sky while eating.<br/>
<br/>
And you? You've lost your appetite.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"The guys were asking about you at lunch," you tell Jessica when you see her in seventh-period English. "You know, Carson and them."<br/>
<br/>
"What about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just where you are. Why you're not eating with them and me instead of with ... whoever."<br/>
<br/>
She makes a face, then surprises you with what she says next. "Maybe I will start eating with you guys."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's better than—"<br/>
<br/>
Then she sits up sharply, looks around, then ducks down to murmur at you in a nearly inaudible whisper. "Maybe we should do that thing to Kelsey," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"What thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"What we were talking about last night. Instead of Seth. Do it to Kelsey."<br/>
<br/>
That would be Kelsey Blankenship, the stuck-up queen bee of the AP kids. She's off to Harvard next year, unless Oxford takes her, and her daddy owns the biggest car dealership in the city, so she's always acted like hot shit. It makes sense then that someone would want to take her down a peg. Still, you ask, "Why Kelsey? She do something to you today?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was at lunch with her, and that's enough. I'm always at lunch with her, and I'm just about ready to shove a tray of mashed potatoes into her—"<br/>
<br/>
"What's this about Kelsey?" That's Marc, the third Garner sibling—the one that's still himself and not someone else in disguise—interrupting from the next row over. He regards you with twinkling interest.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, Marc," Jessica snaps. "Just girl talk, go back to sleep." Marc only laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, okay," you tell her. "I guess it's something to talk about. But the guys would really like it if you started eating out on the quad with us. But don't bring up Will Prescott if you start eating with us."<br/>
<br/>
The muscles around Jessica's eyes twitch ever so slightly. "What about Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that more girl talk?" Marc guffaws, and you and Jessica both give him a dirty look.<br/>
<br/>
"It's nothing," you tell him. "Just—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, hey," Marc interrupts. "Party at Kelsey's Saturday night. Tell Will he should drop in."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not—" you start to say, but Jessica runs over you. "No way Kelsey's gonna want Will out at her place," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"He's got a thing going these days." A wide grin—a white, almost blinding thing—spreads across Marc's tanned, handsome face. "That's why you're talking about him, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a dumbass," Jessica says on your behalf. Again, he just laughs at her, but at least  he turns around in his desk.<br/>
<br/>
But Jessica only has time to put a long finger in your face and say, "Kelsey," before Ms. Gladstone calls the class to order.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You walk with her to eight-period Calculus, which you also share, which gives her more time to lobby you on the idea of using some betas to pull Kelsey down off her pedestal. But you get an idea of your own not long after you're settled into your desks in math class.<br/>
<br/>
There's no seating chart in Calculus, but this day your usual seats are occupied by Mark Szymanski and Pedro Delao, who for some reason have moved over to sit next to a couple of wrestlers, and they don't move—they hardly even acknowledge you—even after you spend a few moments glowering at them. So that's how you and Jessica come to be sitting only a few seats back of Lisa Yarborough.<br/>
<br/>
Your ex-girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
This is the only class that Jenny has with her, and you've tried not to pay attention to her or even to think about her. You shy away from even thinking of her name, as one tries not to touch a canker sore with one's tongue, for Jenny and Lisa had some conversations about "Will Prescott" at the end of summer and the start of school, and even without directly dredging up Jenny's memories, you can sense that some unflattering things got said about you. Nothing really mean (you have the impression), and comments were more regretful than condemnatory. But Jenny Ashton, in her original incarnation, doesn't seem to have exactly encouraged Lisa to persist with you.<br/>
<br/>
So you're trying not to look at her as she studies her cell phone. But you can hardly miss it when Geoff Mansfield saunters into the room and looms over her. You can't tear your eyes away even after he has leaned in to nuzzle her.<br/>
<br/>
Right there, in front of the entire class!<br/>
<br/>
He murmurs something at her—it sounds like "tickets"—and he smiles—<br/>
<br/>
Only to you it looks more like a leer.<br/>
<br/>
—as she strokes his arm. He straightens up and looks down at her with a smug smirk, then turns and swaggers out of the classroom.<br/>
<br/>
"Easy there, man" Jessica says as you feel yourself flush.<br/>
<br/>
But now you've got a candidate of your own to propose for ruination at the next club meeting.</span></div></div>


path: 1133121112112111111132121323223111112132122111211123
author_id: seuzz
title: The Dish Best Served Cold
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"If we're going to take down anyone, I want it to be Geoff Mansfield."<br/>
<br/>
Your declaration is met with stares from the other girls.<br/>
<br/>
You're all meeting again up at the storage complex—the only place in the city where this collection of long-legged cheerleaders—most of whom are supposed to hate each other—can meet without it looking weird. But after everyone but Chelsea (who is chronically late) was spread out on the floor or draped over the furniture, you didn't waste any time announcing that you wanted to talk some more about "taking someone down" as a new group project. Jessica had looked like she was about to speak, so you blurted your idea out first. "Mansfield," you repeat in a growl.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy—your friend Keith—is the first to react. She groans and covers her face. Jessica looks miffed, maybe because you darted in ahead of her, while Eva looks confused. "What have you got against Mansfield?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
Jessica nudges her. "Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Lisa who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be an airhead, man. That's Philip's job."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck." Cindy glares at you. "Don't be petty, man"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not being petty! Don't tell me he doesn't deserve to be taken down a couple of notches," you continue, turning to the Garners. "You guys hang out with him. At least, that's what I've heard. What <i>someone's</i> heard about the Garners," you correct yourself, for in the heat of the moment you can't tell if the memory is one of yours or one of Jenny's. "Fucking insufferable <i>twat.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Maria frowns at you. "Will," she says, "is there some personal motive in selecting Geoff Mansfield as a subject for this, ah, experiment?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Cindy says. "Geoff stole Will's girlfriend," she tells Maria. "At least, that's the way Will tells it. Everyone else says Lisa wasn't even dating him, she just spent most of the summer standing in the neighborhood of where he happened to be."<br/>
<br/>
You bridle so hard you nearly split your skin open.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm," Maria says. "I don't much like this whole idea of trying to downgrade someone's reputation, and if we're doing it because one of us feels personal spite—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell you why we should do it," Jessica announces, to your surprise. "Because we should be trying to get Will into Kelsey's group, and we can't do that while Geoff is in with them."<br/>
<br/>
Eva squints at her fake sister. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mike, I told you, stop being such a fucking blonde."<br/>
<br/>
"We're all being blonde in that case," Maria says. "You're going to have to explain yourself, Carlos."<br/>
<br/>
But instead, Jessica bends over to whisper urgently in Eva's ear behind a cupped hand. Whatever she has to say, she says so much of it that Cindy turns to you and says, "I can't believe you want to do this, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I can't believe you wanted to do that thing to Javits," you retort. "Don't be a fucking hypocrite, man—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not being a hypo—"<br/>
<br/>
"You wanted to tear Seth down. And that's after you did worse than that to him, you turned him into a fucking beta of himself. I just want to teach Mansfield a lesson, and that's a lot less—."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't turn Javits into a—! That was just something we had to do!" Cindy yells back. "On account of—"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is going on in here?" someone says from the doorway. You look up to find Chelsea Cooper making a face at the assembled company.<br/>
<br/>
"We're having a discussion about—" Maria starts to say, but—<br/>
<br/>
"No, look, here's the plan," Jessica interrupts. Eva grins and claps her hands to silence everyone else.<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to get Will in with Kelsey and her friends," Jessica says. "They're, like, a really exclusive bunch, right? Country club and all that. So if we can get Will in with them—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's the project for our old betas," Maria patiently reminds her. "These betas." She rests a slim brown hand atop her bosom. "For our second betas—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm getting to that! Thing is, there's no way we're getting Will in with Kelsey's group as long as Mansfield hangs out with them, on account of the bad blood between them over Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not getting Will in with them, period," Cindy snorts. "Buncha stuck-up—"<br/>
<br/>
"We can if Kelsey and her friends are our betas," Jessica says with a note of triumph. "And that's how we take Geoff down too. We use them to boost Will and also take Geoff down!"<br/>
<br/>
An awestruck silence settles over the room. At least, you feel yourself awestruck into silence, and it feels like the others are too. Into that silence, Jessica pours out the rest of her plan.<br/>
<br/>
"So Kelsey and Amanda and— I dunno. Some of the others. They become our new betas. Will starts attending Kelsey's Saturday-night parties, going out with their study groups, sitting in with them at lunch and before classes, all that. And at the same time Geoff starts getting cold-shouldered, pushed aside. Snotty remarks and social posts. Two plans, coming together." She twines her fingers together to illustrate. "One goes up, one comes down."<br/>
<br/>
Doubt still shows on Maria's face, but it's a thoughtful doubt. Cindy also looks skeptical as she casts you a glance, but to Jessica she says, "Could Kelsey and them start inviting me and Seth out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, that would be—"<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'm in," Cindy declares. <br/>
<br/>
Maria looks around, and seems to realize that everyone, except maybe Chelsea, has bought into the idea. When she looks at Chelsea, the head cheerleader says, "Whatever, my dudes. Just don't ask me to trade in these boobs."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want another beta?" Eva asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't need one."<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Maria says, and she folds her hands. "I guess that's settled. But whatever we do to Geoff, I want it to be subtle."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sure,</i> you think. <i>Subtle like a mule kick to his nuts.</i> <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The rest of the session is taken up with brainstorming candidates for betas. Carlos practically lunges for Kelsey—"She's the bossy-boots who throws the parties"—and it dawns on you that he likely endorsed your idea because it will give him a chance to move in behind her face—another way of getting back at her for whatever she's been doing to him. Mike is almost as quick to claim Amanda Ferguson, Kelsey's best friend, for himself.<br/>
<br/>
But after that, things bog down.<br/>
<br/>
Keith, of course, already has his second beta in the form of Seth Javits, and Josiah has already declared that he will be Chelsea and no one else. <br/>
<br/>
That leaves you and Philip needing assignments. But though he has acquiesced in the plan, Fairfax is only lukewarm to the names that Carlos and Mike rattle off: Olivia Byrne, Brooke Galloway, Rachel Burton, Deanna Showalter, and Hannah Westrick. And they veto Philip's own suggestion that, as Kendra Saunders, he could help Chelsea spread malicious online gossip about Geoff: "Josiah's already got that covered," Carlos says. "If we want to do that."<br/>
<br/>
But you're not enthusiastic about their suggestions either, and the session breaks up with a decision to make those decisions later, maybe after Mike and Carlos have adopted their new identities and gotten a better lay of the landscape. <br/>
<br/>
As before, you leave the studio with Keith wrapping Cindy's arm in yours. "Deanna's the best of the bunch they suggested," he tells you.<br/>
<br/>
"She's not my idea of sexy."<br/>
<br/>
"I think she's sexy."<br/>
<br/>
"You think every girl is sexy."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I really dig having no standards, makes it easy finding girls to jerk off to. But seriously, you should totally do this next bit as Deanna. Think of all the bitchy stuff you could spread about Mansfield."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you hated the idea of me doing that."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't hate it," he protests. "I just you're lame for still being hung up on Lisa. But if you're going to fucking do it, dude, do it right. Do it as Deanna."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Deanna <i>is</i> a notorious gossip—a fact that Jenny knows even better than you—and you could do Geoff a lot of damage by being her. As Jenny, you've got her first period for Concert Choir, and you spend some time the next morning eyeballing her. She's a pale redhead with snowy shoulders and bosoms, long hair that she likes to fiddle with, and a breathy voice. But you have to fight your way past Jenny's native dislike of her to recognize that Deanna is actually rather pretty, and to acknowledge that's she's also pretty popular. Besides taking down Geoff, she could also be help in boosting yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Eva has a quick, alert look on her face when you catch up to her third period in the library. "What did you think of those names?" she asks as you pull out the chair next to her, but she looks past you as she speaks.<br/>
<br/>
"What names? The ones Jessica texted me this morning?" You woke to a mysterious text from the other Garner: <i>how about kim or martin?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Of course them! For your other beta." Still she is gazing past you with an anxious expression.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." <i>Dur.</i> You glance back to see what so interests her, then realize she's probably on the watch for Audrey and Rachel. "I don't know," you say. "Martin Gardinhire? Is that one you mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. He's Geoff's best friend, you know. You could do him a lot of damage from behind Martin's face."<br/>
<br/>
"And Kim ... Walsh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny," Eva says waspishly. "My sister would tell you that <i>I'm</i> supposed to be the blonde. Yes, Kim Walsh."<br/>
<br/>
Kim is the school council president: a serious, studious, conscientious sort, not the kind to go around sabotaging friends. Again, like Martin, she would be an unexpected blind to strike from.<br/>
<br/>
Rachel and Audrey breeze in just then, and the rest of the period is taken up with math problems and more innocent forms of gossip. By the time bell has rung, though, you've made a decision.</span></div></div>


