# chapters

path: 1111344141111221312215112
author_id: seuzz
title: How to Scare a Girl for Fun and Profit
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>All day Friday you twist with anticipation and second-guess yourself. Should you text Katy to confirm Saturday's movie date? Look for her in her classes? Track her down and have lunch with her again? You shrink from each of these. Partly it's because you're mindful of Yumi's caution not to chase after her too hard. But you're also fearful of being sick all over her shoes.<br/>
<br/>
And you've got something else to be anxious about. You've decided to show her that book you've been working out of, and the stuff that it makes.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart hops in your chest every time you think about it. Should you, really? What would she think? Would she think that it's cool, and think that you're cool for sharing it with her? Or will she think it's evil, and that you're evil?<br/>
<br/>
One thing you're sure of. You can't show her the things you used on Coach Schell. So, after using the paste you made with the last spell to glue the two items to each other, you hide it deep in the elementary school basement, where (when you check it after school) you have to relight that fire. You take that as a good sign, however. The periods when it is burning seem to be getting shorter.<br/>
<br/>
As for how you are going to introduce Katy to the stuff (assuming you don't shit your pants and chicken out at the last minute), you spend a very restless Friday night thinking of how to do it ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Jumbo popcorn, jumbo Cokes," the concession agent says as he drops the items onto the counter in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. "We only ordered the large."<br/>
<br/>
"You get a free refill with the jumbos," he says. You're about to protest when you notice that he has charged you only the price for the large combo. As you stare with your mouth hanging open, hesitating before pointing it out to him, he winks heavily at you, and repeats the price. You mumble your thanks and pay him.<br/>
<br/>
"That was nice of Brownie," Katy says as you accompany her toward the auditoriums.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you think it was on purpose?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, what do you think, Will?" Katy says. She snags a few popcorn kernels. "It was Brownie."<br/>
<br/>
Meaning that it was Alec Brown who upsized you at the lower price. He's one of the wrestlers at school—a burly guy with a buzz cut, a direct stare, and a toothy, confident grin. You've never had any trouble with him, but your luck with school jocks is such that you can never think the best of them.<br/>
<br/>
It's early Saturday afternoon, and you're up at the Silver Cineplex with Katy to see <i>Cravenmoor,</i> the just-opened horror picture you asked her to see. The theater is filling up nicely as you enter, which fills you with a fluttering kaleidoscope of emotions. <i>What if someone sees us together? Well, so what if they do, it's okay if I'm on a date! What if it's some of Katy's friends? Shit, what if it's some of </i>my<i> friends? Do I want them joining us? They'll get in the way and fuck things up! No, they'll act as a buffer and keep </i>me<i> from fucking up! What if Katy wants someone else along and I don't? Or I don't and she does?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Oo, don't push!" Katy squeaks as you tread on her heels. You squawk an apology, and thank your stars that you haven't dumped the popcorn on her yet.<br/>
<br/>
You settle in and mumble some small talk during the ads and trailers. When the movie itself starts, with the foreboding shot of a crumbling brick manor under a cloud-wracked sky, Katy's shoulder touches yours. Almost you catapult from the seat. But you've the presence of mind, fortunately, to lean back against her, and soon you are propping each other up as you share popcorn.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Half the popcorn ends up in the floor, thanks to the thirty or so jump scares in the movie. You're grateful for them, though, because after the first one, Katy grabbed your hand and didn't let go until the end credits.<br/>
<br/>
"That was intense," she giggles on the way out of the theater. "It got <i>you</i> a couple of times."<br/>
<br/>
"Did not," you lie.<br/>
<br/>
"Did too. I <i>felt</i> you jump!"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos you were grabbing onto me!" You lean over to bump against her. She bumps you back. You grin like a son of a bitch and do your best to keep your feet under you. "So you liked it? Even though it was scary?"<br/>
<br/>
"I liked it <i>'cos</i> it was scary!"<br/>
<br/>
"It didn't freak you out? All the Satanic, black-magic stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! I mean, I don't <i>like</i> that stuff—"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't?" Your heart stops in your chest. "But the voodoo stuff you're doing with Stephanie and them, you're okay with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not <i>real,</i> Will!"<br/>
<br/>
"But what if it was?"<br/>
<br/>
"It isn't, Will!"<br/>
<br/>
It was probably that tone of vexed, impatient skepticism in her reply that finally decided you. <i>I have to show her,</i> you think. <i>She's so smug, I have to show her. It'll blow her mind, if nothing else.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So what do you want to do now?" Katy asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Got some place I want to take you."<br/>
<br/>
It's only a little later, on the drive back to Acheson, that it occurs to you to be pleased that she was <i>looking for something to do</i> after the movie. Surely a good sign.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What are we doing here?" Katy asks as you twist open the padlock on the school basement door. "We shouldn't be here, should we?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, I come here all the time," you assure her as you push the door open. "They don't care, they totally forgot about this place." You put out a hand to take hers, but she hangs back. You advance down the steps, and look back at her from the shadows inside the basement. After a moment's hesitation, she follows you in as far as the top of the steps.<br/>
<br/>
"It's kind of a clubhouse," you tell her as you descend all the way to the floor. "Me and my friends hung out here all last year. I've, uh, kind of turned it into a workshop."<br/>
<br/>
"A workshop?" Katy sounds dubious.<br/>
<br/>
"Doing experiments and stuff. I got one going now that— Hang on."<br/>
<br/>
You've only now noticed that the fire is out again. <i>Well, this'll show her what kind of stuff I get up to,</i> you think to yourself as you snatch up the lighter. You can't help feeling a little smug. <i>She'll squeak and ask what it is, and I'll explain, and she'll come over and see that it's a magic fire because it's not hot or anything, and then I'll—</i><br/>
<br/>
But the dirt won't relight. You flick and flick the lighter at it, but it doesn't catch. "Will," Katy says, and now she sounds alarmed, "you're not trying to burn this place down, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's my experiment! It's supposed to be burning, but— <i>Ohhhhh!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
What's wrong is that the thing is finally done. It must be! The book says it's finished when the fire goes out and doesn't relight, and it's gone out and you can't get it to relight, so—<br/>
<br/>
"Come over here and look at it," you say. It's too gloomy in the basement to make anything out, so you fumble out one of the electric lanterns you brought out. Katy blinks under the white, acrid glow, and comes no closer.<br/>
<br/>
But you're preoccupied with the thing you've made. You've not given it a close look before. It's changed in the fire.<br/>
<br/>
What was once a heap of dirt has now tightened up into something that looks like a large, fat log. The color is grayish, and it gives the impression of being made of baked clay. Fissures have opened up in it, up the middle at one end, and on opposite sides farther up. You twist your head around for a better look, and decide that, with those rents and the onion-shaped lump at the other end, the thing looks like a rude, just-started statue of a human being.<br/>
<br/>
"I should get home," Katy says.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I want to—" you start to argue, but catch yourself in time. "Well, okay, if you want to," you tell her. "But this stuff I'm working on, it's like the voodoo stuff that you guys are working on."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh?" Katy sounds distracted, worried.<br/>
<br/>
"It's like, something you could use in your prank against Hannah."<br/>
<br/>
That gets her attention, and she even comes the rest of the way down the steps, though she hangs back on the bottom-most one.<br/>
<br/>
"I found this book at Arnholm's," you explain. "The used book store next to the Crystal Cave? I've been using it to make stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" Katy sounds either skeptical or disgusted.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, like this thing." You indicate the ... thing.<br/>
<br/>
"What is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Here, let me show you the book." You lunge for the grimoire which is sitting on a nearby table. "I'll show you how it works and what it does."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind up outside, sitting with your backs to the wall of the school, as you flip through the book, showing her how the pages won't open, and explaining how performing each spell in turn has allowed you to unlock them. Katy is incredulous at first, then indulgent, and finally just confused and even a little angry. "But you're not serious," she argues. "You didn't actually make any of these <i>masks,</i> did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I did, and I can show you. I've got one downstairs."<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a skeptical look, so you scramble to your feet and run down into the basement.<br/>
<br/>
"See here," you say when you return to drop down next to her. "If you move it around and look, you'll see a face down inside it. And it works. It's a copy of them. And if you don't recognize them—"<br/>
<br/>
You turn the mask over. The name floats over the inner surface in blue letters: WILLIAM MARTIN PRESCOTT.</span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122151121
author_id: seuzz
title: Sharing Your Secrets
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>WILLIAM MARTIN PRESCOTT. That's the name that floats above the inner surface of the mask that you show Katy. It seemed the best choice. There was no way you were going to freak her out by showing her the mask of Coach Schell, and the mask of almost any other person would freak her out almost as much.<br/>
<br/>
But if you showed her that you were experimenting on yourself ... Well, you might look like a reckless dumbass, but that's better than looking like a creep and a perv.<br/>
<br/>
So you show her the mask, and compare each part of it to the corresponding spell while explaining how you crafted it. How the first spell made the mask itself. The second spell made the stuff that sealed it after you copied yourself into it. How the third spell let you make the metal band now affixed to the interior of the mask. How the fourth spell made the glue that holds them together. "So, this like a complete back up copy of me," you conclude.<br/>
<br/>
Her attitude grows noticeably cooler as you go. "Whatever you say, Will." She sounds aggravated. "It's a pretty impressive piece of work, I'll give you that—"<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna see me make another one?" <br/>
<br/>
"Another copy of yourself?" She looks around with a tired expression.<br/>
<br/>
"Another mask. Another thing like this, but blank." You brandish the mask at her. "I can get started on it at least, show you I'm not bullshitting you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>You're bullshitting me,</i> her expression says, but at least she follows you back down into the basement.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm going to show you,</i> you swear to yourself as you start rummaging for supplies. <i>No way am I going to let you go back to Stephanie and let you tell her I'm some kind of spastic weirdo!</i> Angrily you yank open drawers and slam them shut as you pull out the ingredients to make a mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, I have to go," Katy says as you start mixing ingredients.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you just—?"<br/>
<br/>
You catch yourself in time, and take a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Katy, can you give me just five minutes?" you plead. "Please. That's all I want. Five minutes, so you can see I'm telling you the truth."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think you're lying to me," she says. "I mean, I'm sure you made that thing like you said—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just have to show you that it <i>is</i> magic. There's one little part of it that will <i>show</i> you. Please?"<br/>
<br/>
Katy visibly cringes. But then she wilts and settles back with a grimace against one of the tables. You give her a reproachful look, then return to your work.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it makes a horrible stink," you admit after you've finished mixing the ingredients. You forgot to open any windows or turn on any fans, and Katy withdraws to the stairs with her hands over her nose. "Now watch this," you say as you pour the bubbling liquid over the convex mirror, where it hardens. "See how it made this shell?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Katy says. "That's very clever."<br/>
<br/>
"Come pick it up. Come pick it up!" You can't help snapping as Katy hangs back. She gives you a dirty look, but creeps up to stare down at the mirror. "It's cool, it won't burn you. Just pick it up, hold it, and look at it."<br/>
<br/>
She gives you another look, then gingerly plucks the shell off the mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Now, you saw what I did, right?" you tell her. You take a step back and hold your hands in the air. "No tricks. It was just this stuff I mixed all together, and all I did was pour it over that mirror. I didn't—"<br/>
<br/>
With a sharp gasp Katy flings the shell from her hand. She grabs at the edge of the table.<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, Katy!" you assure her. "It's alright! It's just the magic! That's what I wanted you to see!"<br/>
<br/>
"See what?" she asks. She seems to be having a hard time catching her breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Just pick it up. You'll see."<br/>
<br/>
She creeps over to where she flung the thing. She bends to stare at it for a long moment. It is with evidently vast reluctance that she picks it up.<br/>
<br/>
It's a mask—an oval with brow, nose, chin, lips, and eyes. Slowly she turns it over and around in her hands, holding it like it's a dead rat she's trying not to touch.<br/>
<br/>
"See?" you tell her. "It's a mask. It was just this plain thing when you picked it up. But then it changed into a mask. Like the one I showed you."<br/>
<br/>
"It's the wrong color," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, you have to polish it. Takes me about an hour to do, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"How did you do that?" she demands. "How did you make it change shape?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's magic! I don't know how it works. The book just says how to make it, and that's how you make it!"<br/>
<br/>
"And you made the other one like this?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "It scared me too when it did that, the way it kind of jumps in your hand."<br/>
<br/>
Katy is breathing heavily, and she sinks onto a table. She's got a firmer grip on the mask now.<br/>
<br/>
"And if you polished it," she says, "and if you ... put it on someone ...?"<br/>
<br/>
"It would copy them," you finish for her.<br/>
<br/>
Still she looks skeptical. "And what then?"<br/>
<br/>
That was the part you didn't get to, that you hung back from explaining. <i>It's like a back up copy of me,</i> is what you told her. You draw a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
"It's like a disguise, I guess." You can't prove that to her without breaking out Coach Schell's mask. "The book says that if you copy someone and seal the mask and put it on, it will make you look like them."<br/>
<br/>
Katy's eyes get very wide. But still she looks disbelieving.<br/>
<br/>
"And you tried it?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not with my mask." A thought occurs to you. "I can't disguise myself <i>as</i> myself. I don't think."<br/>
<br/>
"So what happened when you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I made the thing and I copied myself. And I haven't done anything else with it. I don't have anyone else I could try it with."<br/>
<br/>
Only after you've uttered the words do you realize what you've inadvertently said. Katy looks up at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I want to share this with someone, Katy," you tell her. "I mean, I've got friends I could share it with. But they're more into science and stuff. But you and your friends, you at least looked a little bit interested in magic. You have that voodoo stuff. So I thought— And I <i>liked</i> being with you, Katy," you hurriedly add, lest she think you were just looking for a kind of magical-science lab partner. "I <i>really</i> liked being with you. I thought maybe with this, by sharing this ... stuff ... with you—"<br/>
<br/>
She drops the mask and runs for the stairs. Your heart sinks as she gallops up them.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Stupid stupid stupid,</i> you yell at yourself. What were you thinking, showing this stuff to her? Now she thinks you're a weirdo <i>and</i> she'll probably blow things up for you by telling people what you're doing. What if the cops get involved? Or the government?<br/>
<br/>
Oh, hell, what if your <i>dad</i> gets involved?<br/>
<br/>
You make yourself miserable with these reflections for a good long time, and it's some minutes before you realize that you haven't heard Katy's car start up and drive away. You're on the point of going up to look when the door opens and she comes back in.<br/>
<br/>
She is very white in the face. She stops in the middle of the stairs, and neither of you speaks for a good long time.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me see that mask again," she finally asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Which one? The new one or—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Both.<br/>
<br/>
Your feet are very heavy as you carry them over to her. She takes them and weighs them in her hands.<br/>
<br/>
"So you haven't figured out if they work," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone would have to try one on. Um," you add after a moment's silence. "That's not why I wanted to— I'm not looking for a guinea pig or anything!" your blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
A wince flashes across Katy's face. "Well, can I take this one with me?" she asks, and hefts the one you just made.<br/>
<br/>
"What for? It's not done yet, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you still have to do to finish it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Polish it."<br/>
<br/>
"And that'll take you how long?"<br/>
<br/>
"About an hour."<br/>
<br/>
"And then you can use it to make—" She swallows. "Disguises?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, there's more stuff you have to do. That'd take me the rest of the night."<br/>
<br/>
She thinks, then nods. "I could find you a guinea pig," she says in a voice that shakes.</span></div></div>


path: 111134414111122131221511211
author_id: seuzz
title: How Trust Is Repaid
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Who?" you ask Katy. You're shocked by her offer to find you a "guinea pig".<br/>
<br/>
"Someone," she says. "But it'd take you the rest of the night to finish a thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, rest of the afternoon, at least. But—"<br/>
<br/>
"I need to get home," she says. "Really. But, um, if you get it done tonight, could you bring it by my place?" Her eyebrows peak.<br/>
<br/>
You really don't like the idea of her loose with a mask, looking for a guinea pig, without supervision. "I don't want you trying anything with it!"<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes widen. "You don't want my help?"<br/>
<br/>
"I do, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, could I— Can I just take it home with me, at least?" she begs. "After you finish it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
You're in agony as you hesitate, but you finally relent. "Well, if you just want to take it and look at it," you say. "But promise me you won't—"<br/>
<br/>
"I promise," she says, sounding relieved. "I'll see you later."<br/>
<br/>
She turns and rushes up the stairs and outside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've got a lot of time as you polish the mask to wonder whether you've made a serious mistake by showing this stuff to Katy. Is she really serious about helping you find a guinea pig? (Which you don't need to do, since you already know how this stuff works.) And why does she still want the mask even after promising she won't do anything with it?<br/>
<br/>
You have to stop, halfway through the job of buffing the mask, when a thought hits you: <i>Is she going to use the mask on herself? Is </i>she<i> volunteering to be the guinea pig?<br/>
<br/>
Holy shit!</i> you think. <i>Maybe she's going to come back tomorrow ... and invite you to turn yourself into her? To confirm that way that the masks work?</i><br/>
<br/>
Your brain is a disordered mess when you get a text from your mom, telling you it's time for supper if you're coming home, and you take it and the mask and everything else you need with you when you return home, so that up in your bedroom you finish by affixing the completed brain band to the polished mask. You're not sure this is something you should do—maybe the mask and band shouldn't be attached to each other until after each one has been used to copy someone?—but Katy talked like she wanted the full package of stuff.<br/>
<br/>
It's close to eight-thirty when you pull up to her house. She is expecting you, for you texted ahead of time, and she almost rips the front door off its hinges when she opens it. You think she's going to faint when she takes the mask from you. She thanks you for it, and with breathless anxiety asks if she can see you tomorrow. You tell her you can meet up tomorrow afternoon, for you have church in the morning and probably a family luncheon after that. The whole exchange is very awkward, and it receives an awkward—but welcome!—punctuation mark at the end when Katy darts forward to peck you on the chin with a tiny kiss before slamming the door shut in your fact. You rub the spot on the long, slow walk back to your truck.<br/>
<br/>
It's too close to your stupidly early curfew to return to the school to examine the thing you made, so you go back home.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Church feels even longer and more annoying than usual, and the lunch at your aunt and uncle's house stretches out interminably. Only after you catch Robert grinning smugly at you do you realize that, in your distracted state, you've left Umeko free for his attentions without competition from you. But you don't care. You're too distracted by your developing relationship with Katy.<br/>
<br/>
As soon as you're back home you text her that you're free to see her, and after changing into a more relaxed set of clothes you ride your bike over to the old school. It's a cool day with temperatures in the fifties, for it is now the first week of October.<br/>
<br/>
You're glaring at the big, stony lump the fire made when Katy's texted reply comes in, saying that she'll meet you in half an hour. That will give you a chance to get started on the thing, for on reviewing the book you've found that, as with a mask, you have to polish it before you do anything with it. You'll need to bring in an extension cord in order to get the buffer up on top of it, but for now you decide to wipe it down of the whitish dust that covers it. You use an old rag for that, and you're struck at the dim shine the thing acquires after you've got the grit off. On a hunch, you test out the book to see if you can get the page to turn. It remains stuck fast to the page behind. On a further hunch you touch the open book to the thing. And now when you flip the book over, the page flops free.<br/>
<br/>
So was getting the dust off of it enough? You check the continuation of the spell.<br/>
<br/>
It's a big block of text, and you've translated it just far enough to determine that you have made a "lackey" that will obey you, but have not determined exactly what that means, when you hear a car outside. You glance out through one of the basement windows, and through the weeds you see Katy's car. She's very long in emerging from it, though. She's got a backpack with her when she does.<br/>
<br/>
You meet her halfway up the stairs. Your heart is thumping hard, and she looks very nervous as well. Bright-eyed, but nervous. She asks you how your church was, and how your lunch was. You tell her they were fine, and ask what she's been doing. "Oh, just hanging around doing nothing," she says with darting eyes that won't meet yours. She looks over your shoulder. "Are you up to something new?"<br/>
<br/>
You tell her that you're tackling the next spell in the book, and she eagerly asks if you've got it figured out yet. You tell her you're right in the middle of it, and with something like relief she asks if she can help. You shrug (but secretly you're pleased) and lead her back down onto the basement floor. She stares at the thing when you show it to her, and says nothing as you describe how you made it. (Leaving out, however, where you got the dirt.)<br/>
<br/>
"It looks like a statue," she says, and points. "That's the head, and those are the arms and legs—"<br/>
<br/>
"I noticed that."<br/>
<br/>
"What does the book say about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It calls it a 'pedisequos'," you tell her, and stumble over word. "The online translator says that it means 'lackey'. Servant, footman. Guy who has to do what you tell him to."<br/>
<br/>
"Is it alive?" Katy asks, sounding alarmed.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so. It doesn't move."<br/>
<br/>
Katy tentatively prods it with a fingertip. Nothing happens. "But I haven't finished translating," you add.<br/>
<br/>
She hops up onto the table next to you. "Stephanie's brother is taking Latin," she says as you open up the book again and take out your phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" you say as you tap a short phrase into the online translator. The damn browser goes glitchy, you have found, if you type in too much text from the book.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Craig. He's a junior. He's really smart. Her older brother's really smart too."<br/>
<br/>
"How many brothers does she have?" You ask because Katy seems to want to talk, but you're distracted by the translation work.<br/>
<br/>
"Just two. But Kevin's in college. Duke! You know, she doesn't live far from here. Just over that way toward the river." She waves her hand.<br/>
<br/>
"How long have you known Stephanie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Only since we started high school. We had a bunch of freshman classes together, became friends. We went out for basketball together. She's so <i>good.</i> Like—"<br/>
<br/>
You let her gush on without interrupting while you concentrate on the translation, though you do look up every now and then to make it look like you're listening. (And because you do like looking at her.) But you're not much interested in hearing about all the amazing things that Stephanie Wyatt has done, on the basketball court, on the soccer field, or inside the school. You're particularly not that interested—except in a kind of morbid way—when Katy tells you about a couple of guys whose asses Stephanie kicked when they were hassling her and some friends back in their sophomore year.<br/>
<br/>
But she's paying attention to you too, and asks what the verdict is on the translation.<br/>
<br/>
"You have to put a mask onto it," you tell her, and slide off the desk and onto your feet. You pad over to the ... lackey ... or whatever you want to call it ... and frown down at it. "The books says that if you put a mask onto it, it will become the, uh, persona of the mask and will have to obey you.<br/>
<br/>
Katy joins you. "You put a mask on it?" she asks. "I thought those things were disguises."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess you can disguise this thing"—you point to the lackey—"as a person too."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God," Katy says. She draws a shuddering breath. "Like a— Like a duplitron?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Duplitron?</i> you wonder, but only grunt an affirmative. "I guess the only thing to do is to try it." But there's only one way to do that. "I'll get my mask."<br/>
<br/>
But something in Katy's attitude—she's gotten very stiff—catches your attention. "Something wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She says nothing for a long moment. <br/>
<br/>
Then she plunges her hand into her backpack and pulls out the mask you gave her last night. Wordlessly she thrusts it at you.<br/>
<br/>
You take it. When you flip it over, you see it has acquired a name: STEPHANIE MICHAEL WYATT.</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312215112111
author_id: seuzz
title: Two Girls, One Mask
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"How did you make this?" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"I made it like you said to," Katy says in a small voice. "Did I do it wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>You did it too damn well!</i> you want to shout back. "I told you not to do anything with it," you reply in a half-strangled voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I wanted to try it out. I'm sorry!" Katy says, and she reaches out to take the mask from you. "I just wanted to—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's okay," you say, and jerk the mask back from her. "I'm just surprised is all. You really—" You swallow. "You really tried it out on, er—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, I guess I shouldn't have." Katy shrinks up. "Only I was thinking ... Well ..."<br/>
<br/>
She looks up at you like a dog that's afraid of getting whipped.<br/>
<br/>
"You said you couldn't try the one you made, because, like, you can't wear one if it's of yourself. So I thought, well, I could get one of someone else? And you could try— Or I could try—"<br/>
<br/>
You feel the blood drain from your face. Katy must think you're pissed at her, because she starts sniffling.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry," she says. "Oh God, you're right, this is so fucked up, I—"<br/>
<br/>
"No no no!" you assure her. "It's— I told you, I'm just surprised is all! Actually I was, uh, I was thinking of trying it with, um, someone." It's like your tongue and mouth don't want to work. "On one of my friends. Because, you know, right, we can't know if they, uh, work if— Look, I'm not mad at you or anything!" you assure Katy as starts to sniffle hard. "Really! Hey!" You hesitate, then touch her chin, pushing it up so she'll look you in the face. "It's okay, Katy! I'm— I'm really glad you, uh— I just can't believe it is all!"<br/>
<br/>
Still she sniffles and snuffles.<br/>
<br/>
"Stephanie's the only person I could, uh, get to today," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
You only want to know how Stephanie reacted, but Katy thinks you're asking about the whole process. "Well, it was kind of scary," she says. "So—"<br/>
<br/>
Katy relates that she went over to Stephanie's house right after lunch and hung out with her in her bedroom. She had the mask along and showed it to Stephanie, and slyly talked her friend into putting it to her face, because (Katy says) she figured that where it would have to go if it was going to copy someone. Stephanie passed out for about ten minutes, which put Katy in a total panic because she wouldn't wake up and it was like the mask had gone into her. It eventually reappeared, though, and Katy woke Stephanie up and pretended that she has fainted. Stephanie wasn't too happy, but she didn't seem to suspect anything.<br/>
<br/>
So now you have a mask of Stephanie Wyatt. You'll have to seal it up before it can be tested, though.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you know that it will work.<br/>
<br/>
You let Katy suggest the dispositions. She didn't want to volunteer to put on your mask, because that might be weird, and she also thinks it would be weird for you to put on Stephanie's mask. So she shyly suggests that she be the one to try on the mask to see if it will work. You decide not to argue. Katy is very nervous, naturally, but she gets onto the table and kicks off her shoes and socks. She's a little smaller than Stephanie all the way around—<br/>
<br/>
Or is she? Maybe she just seems smaller because she talks smaller, and because Stephanie's personality can really fill a room.<br/>
<br/>
—so at your suggestion she also unbuttons the top of her jeans and digs underneath her shirt to loosen her bra. While she does that, you seal up the mask. At first you worry that covering over the metal band with sealant will ruin the band, but Stephanie's name continues to blaze out even after you've coated the inner surface.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'm going to put this on you," you tell her as she lays out on the table. "And I assume it's going to disguise you. I don't know how long it will take to work or anything." (That's mostly a lie, of course.) "But the book says how to get masks off of people, so if anything goes wrong, I'll get you right out."<br/>
<br/>
Katy looks very alarmed at that, and a hard shiver runs through her, but she nods. Her expression is very worried as you lower the mask onto her.<br/>
<br/>
The mask seems to slip through the front of her skull, like dropping a plate into a pool of water, and there might be the faintest ripple in her image. Whatever happens, it happens almost instantly, as Katy's form and features are replaced with those of Stephanie Wyatt.<br/>
<br/>
You almost swallow your tongue. It's one thing to have done it yourself and to wake to the results. It's another to see them happen to someone else.<br/>
<br/>
The Stephanie who materializes on the table in front of you doesn't look quite right to your eye, which worries you somewhat. But maybe that's only because the Stephanie that inhabits your imagination is a taut-faced Amazon with hard, emerald-colored eyes and lips that are only a twitch away from turning into a sneer or a snarl. The face of this one sags, but that might only be because she is asleep.<br/>
<br/>
Otherwise, the features seem to be the same. Regular features with a strong, well-shaped nose and a small but firm chin. Chestnut-brown hair that is bobbed short and which twists into in short, spitfire curls just over her eyebrows, ears, and the nape of her neck. A summertime tan. Glancing down, you see well-shaped arms, and breasts that are quite a big larger than Katy's. Of her ass and legs—two of Stephanie's best features, when you dare to look at them—you can tell nothing, for Katy is wearing long jeans.<br/>
<br/>
You wait a few minutes, then gently try shaking her awake. "Katy," you murmur. Then: "Stephanie?"<br/>
<br/>
You get no answer, and it's only after you start kneading her shoulders that she begins to stir. Her brow furrows and she grimaces. With a groan and a wince she blinks her eyes open. She blinks at you stupidly.<br/>
<br/>
"Katy?" you say. Your heart patters rapidly against your ribs.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"How do you feel?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like crap. Like— Ooh, was I asleep?"<br/>
<br/>
"For a few minutes. I woke you up."<br/>
<br/>
"Jeez, I feel like crap. My head." She sits up with a grunt, and paws at the side of her head.<br/>
<br/>
Then she freezes, and her eyes widen. Her expression goes slack. She fingers the tips of her hair. "Oh my God," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"The mask worked," you tell her. "You, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
The color drains from her face, and her jaw hangs slack as she stares at you. Slowly she leverages herself upright. She looks down, pressing her chin to her breastbone. She stares down at her boobs. "Oh my God," she says again.<br/>
<br/>
"There's a mirror over against that wall," you tell her, and point.<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't move, but slowly raises her arms and curls her fingers. Her eyes widen even more as she studies and flexes them. She lays a palm against a forearm, and gingerly squeezes it.<br/>
<br/>
You put out a hand and help her to her feet. She totters uncertainly over to where the mirror is. "Oh my God," she says a third time as she stares at her reflection. Her eyes and mouth are perfect O's.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie Wyatt stares at herself in the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
"You look just like her," you say, as though the girl can't see that for herself. You touch her shoulder. "How does it feel?" you ask as she lays a light fingertip against her face.<br/>
<br/>
"It feels real," Stephanie murmurs. "Just like ... skin." She presses her finger into her cheek, then pinches it. "Oh my God!"<br/>
<br/>
"What about memories and stuff?" You remember what it was like to awake inside Coach Schell's head and body, and you're a little surprised that you don't have a freaked out Stephanie Wyatt to deal with.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," she mutters. "I'm still too— How does my voice sound?" she asks in sudden alarm. "Do I sound like Stephanie?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't talk to Stephanie enough to have a clear idea of what her voice is like. But just as Katy looks too frightened to be the real Stephanie, she doesn't sound a tenth as confident. Her voice sounds thin, her tone hesitant. "You need to get more of her personality into it," you tell her. "See if you can dig into her mind."<br/>
<br/>
Katy flinches. "That seems like a real invasion of privacy," she squeaks.<br/>
<br/>
"You've got to try it," you urge her, "if you're going to try the whole thing out."<br/>
<br/>
Katy looks very unhappy, and stares hard at herself in the mirror for a few seconds. Her frown deepens. She looks down at the floor and clenches her eyes shut.<br/>
<br/>
After a minute or so, though, she shakes her head. "I ... don't know," she says. "I mean, I can picture her house and her family. But I know them already, and I don't think—"<br/>
<br/>
"When's her birthday?"<br/>
<br/>
"July fourteenth. But I knew that already too."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, when's her brother's birthday? Or her mom's or her dad's? What's the password for her email? Uh, what was the name of her first-grade teacher?"<br/>
<br/>
But Katy shakes her head disconsolately at each of these. "I don't know," she says. "I guess I did it wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe you did mess up by putting that sealant on after affixing the brain band. You tell her you don't know what the problem is.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Nor do you have a chance to explore the problem with her. She gets a text from her dad, asking her to run an errand and then come home. With your help, you remove the mask from her, and she leaves. "I'll come out tonight to see you again," she says. "If that's okay." You tell her it will be.</span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122151121111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Experiments
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You've no idea what's wrong with the mask that Katy was trying out. But you lay it aside for the moment, as you've another project to work on. <br/>
<br/>
Somehow it's not a surprise—it's creepy, but not a surprise—when the shapeless stone lump you made turns into a duplicate of yourself when you drop your mask onto its turnip-shaped head. His eyes instantly pop open, and he sits up with a start. His flaccid penis flops about, for he is naked as well. "Holy shit," he exclaims as he goggles at you.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your name?" you ask, for no better question occurs to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott," he instantly replies. His eyes bulge. "And what's yours?"<br/>
<br/>
"Same thing. Do you know where you are?"<br/>
<br/>
He glances around. "I think we're in the old school basement." His tone is uneasy.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the last thing you remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... making a metal doohickey and putting it onto my forehead?" The color in his cheeks is flashing and flushing between crimson and chalk, and he crosses his legs and hands to cover his bare crotch. "I think I was— Look, what the fuck is going on?" he whines, and his eyes screw up.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jesus, he's about to cry,</i> you think. <i>He's me and he's about to cry. Fuck me.</i><br/>
<br/>
"We finished that thing we were making," you tell him. "That I was making," you correct your pronouns. "That burning pile of shit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" His voice is very faint.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, um, it turned into you." <br/>
<br/>
The other you stares, then leaps up like he was sitting on a pincushion. From under his bony ass pulls out the sheet of paper that you used to make the thing.<br/>
<br/>
"It, uh, made a 'lackey'," you tell him. "Well, the word was in Latin, but it means 'lackey'. Like, slave."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh?" Now he looks really alarmed.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, it wasn't <i>you</i> exactly, it was a rock statue," you stammer. <i>Jesus, I can't believe I'm standing here trying to explain to this thing what he is.</i> "Um, but I guess it just lays there until you put a mask on it. So I put a mask onto it. My mask. Your mask. The mask that I— We—" <i>Dammit, the pronouns just aren't getting any easier.</i> "That you remember making. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so." He sounds unconvinced.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I glued them together, and put them on that thing, and you popped out."<br/>
<br/>
He blanches, and looks around with a furtive, worried expression. It's probably the mirror of the expression you feel on your own face.<br/>
<br/>
"The spell says you have to do what I tell you," you inform him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" The fear in his voice deepens.<br/>
<br/>
You ponder what you might order him to do, as a test. Then you decide that that would be mean. Besides, it might not be a fair test. He might do whatever you ask anyway, just because he is you.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll have to figure out later what to do about this," you tell him with sudden decision. "Lay back down."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna if I can take your mask off," you say as you reach for his face. "Put your hands down," you order when he tries brushing you away. He complies. You grab him by the temple, mutter the magic phrase that removes a mask, and pull. Something comes away in your hand, and you find yourself bending over that lumpy stone thing while trying not to drop the mask. You wipe away the flop sweat from your forehead.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you proved the thing's obedience when you told it to drop its hands. But you decide to test another mask on it, just to be sure.<br/>
<br/>
The mask of someone you're pretty sure won't want to do what you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And boy, didn't she. When Stephanie Wyatt materialized in front of you, her initial shock at finding herself in a cold and greasy school basement with you was quickly replaced by horror at her nakedness and fury at your presumption at questioning and ordering her around.<br/>
<br/>
So you didn't keep her around long, for even though she did everything you asked, she never stopped cussing you out. So after asking her a couple of questions, you bent over and removed her mask from the <i>pedisequos,</i> restoring the basement to silence and only the faintest whiff of sulfur from Stephanie's blistering curses.<br/>
<br/>
She also left some puzzles behind. Unlike Katy, the Stephanie who materialized on the table could answer every question you put to her, about her birthday, her mother's birthday, her passwords, and so on, and she could also remember being woken up earlier by you, and could remember going to the mirror to stare and touch at herself in it. So why couldn't the girl who looked in the mirror remember things like her first-grade teacher's name? <i>I don't know,</i> she said through gritted teeth while boring hot holes in your chest with her glare. <i>I don't know what I was thinking. All I remember is telling you that I didn't remember!<br/>
<br/>
But you remember her name now?<br/>
<br/>
Sure. Mrs. Delisle.</i><br/>
<br/>
You would have loved to talk more with her, so as to get a better eyeful of her naked form. (Though, like your own doppelganger, she twisted herself around to cover her nakedness as much as possible.) She had large, firm breasts shaped like artillery shells; an hourglass figure that curved in to a hard tummy, and strong, supple thighs and calves. Even now, as you think back to the interrogation, your brow pops out in a light sweat.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I could put on the mask and test it myself,</i> you think, and you have to wipe your face as you think it. <i>In fact, I have to,</i> you tell yourself. <i>It's the only way.</i><br/>
<br/>
And if Katy finds out what you did with the copy of her friend's body?<br/>
<br/>
Well, she'd know you had to test it. And as long as you don't do anything really sick inside it—<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but how would she find out?<br/>
<br/>
<i>She might find out,</i> you tell yourself as you loosen your jeans and kick off your shoes and hop up onto the table. <i>So ... into it just long enough to see if the memories will kick in for me. And after that ...</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You know what would be perfect for doing with those masks, right?" you say. "Pranking that girl Hannah. Hard."<br/>
<br/>
Katy's eyes widen and her mouth falls open.<br/>
<br/>
You're back up at the Dairy Queen, which is a place that Stephanie's friends like to meet up, so naturally Katy suggested it. Is she hoping to run into some of them? Maybe. You wouldn't mind, to get them used to the idea of you hanging out with Katy. But for now it's just the two of you, with two small shakes.<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" Katy asks. "Like what could we do?"<br/>
<br/>
You rub your nose with the palm of your hand and shrug. Then you drop your hand into your lap before Katy can recognize the characteristic gesture. You're having a hard time getting Stephanie out of your head.<br/>
<br/>
How long did you lay on that table, in the dark, inside her mask, staring up at the ceiling? You're not sure. Maybe it was only for five or ten minutes. Maybe it was for forty. It was cold, but that was okay. You liked the feel of her flesh prickling all over, and it gave you an excuse to cross your legs and cross your arms across your chest, and to pinch here and there at the firm flesh when an itch or two skittered across.<br/>
<br/>
It was a shock to wake up inside her mask, the same way it was a shock to wake inside Coach Schell's, and there had been the same momentary confusion as to your identity—and a flash of searing anger when you found yourself "again" in that dank basement. <i>Where the fuck did Prescott get off to?</i> you wondered. Then: <i>Oh. Right. Oh, God </i>damn<i> it!</i><br/>
<br/>
That all by itself should have told you that the mask was working. But you lay back and let your second set of memories unfurl. Again, you had more than the memories, you had the personality and dispositions to go with them.<br/>
<br/>
So you didn't just "remember" Stephanie talking to her friend Meghan about Caleb and about how serious she might be about him. You also remember the pleasure she felt at seeing them hang out, and her worry that Meghan might hurt Caleb by becoming too quickly bored with him.<br/>
<br/>
You also remember looking at Will Prescott and Katy Conlee, and thinking, <i>That could work. Assuming Prescott doesn't fuck things up with her.</i><br/>
<br/>
But you don't want to talk to Katy about that. Instead, you talk to her about someone else, someone who consumes nearly every waking moment of Stephanie's life.<br/>
<br/>
<i>A hatred that burns like a thousand suns</i> would well describe Stephanie's feelings about Hannah Westrick. It's not a complicated hatred either. The plain fact is that Stephanie crushes hard on Marc Garner, and was going to try going with him this year, before Hannah blithely swept in and carried him off.<br/>
<br/>
"We should show this stuff to Stephanie and them," Katy says.<br/>
<br/>
You meditatively suck on your straw—another Stephanie mannerism—and marvel at how much awe Katy feels for Stephanie. That's something else you sensed from inside Stephanie as you wore her mask: her knowledge that Katy admires her so much, and Stephanie's own embarrassment at it.</span></div></div>


path: 111134414111122131221511211111
author_id: seuzz
title: It's a Boyfriend-Girlfriend Thing
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I haven't told any of my friends about this stuff," you tell Katy. "But if you want to tell your friends ..."<br/>
<br/>
You let the thought hang. Katy's eyes widen. Then they fall.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want to tell your friends?" she asks. "Because—"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really. It was something I wanted to share it with you. And that was hard enough. It'd be a lot harder telling my friend Caleb or Keith." Again, you let the thought hang before extending it. "I wonder how hard it would be to tell Stephanie."<br/>
<br/>
And just like that (you can tell), you've convinced Katy not to tell any of her friends about the masks.<br/>
<br/>
You feel a little guilty about manipulating Katy this way. But you really doubt Stephanie would like this stuff. And if Katy thought about it, she'd probably realize that too. Better that she realize it now that later, which she might have accidentally let something slip.<br/>
<br/>
"So, what do you want to do about this girl Hannah?" you ask Katy.<br/>
<br/>
She hangs her head for a long time without answering. Eventually, she shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"Would it really be worth doing anything?" she asks. "I mean, without Stephanie and the rest of them—"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't mean that <i>you</i> can't do something. That <i>we</i> can't."<br/>
<br/>
"Using the things, you mean?" Her expression is anxious.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. And itt would be real magic, too, not the fake voodoo that you guys were—"<br/>
<br/>
"But then we couldn't tell Stephanie and them what we did!"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Do they have to know? Or they could do their own thing to her, and you and me could do our own?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just don't know," Katy says after another long pause.<br/>
<br/>
It's not really your business, so you wouldn't kick if Katy decided against using the masks to prank this Hannah girl.<br/>
<br/>
"Here," you tell her as you pull your backpack onto the table. "I brought the, uh, one of Stephanie." You pull the mask out, and Katy rears back. "I tested it out while you were gone. Just long enough," you assure her as she stares, "to see if it worked on me."<br/>
<br/>
"Did it?" Katy asks in a faint voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I mean, like I said, I wasn't in it real long, but, um—" You feel yourself reddening under the very pale expression that is washing over Katy's face. "I thought we should test it out every which way. And I got Stephanie's memories. I don't know why it didn't work with you."<br/>
<br/>
Katy stares at the mask, which you are still proffering, without taking it. "So what am I supposed to do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
You suggest that she take it home and try it out again, but she protests: "I don't wanna get caught wearing it!" she exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"So wear it to bed," you suggest. "You don't share a room with anyone, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, no. But—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just saying, maybe should give it another chance, give it a longer time. Sleep in it overnight. If that doesn't work then—"<br/>
<br/>
"Why would it work then?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know! I'm just saying!" You stare at each other.<br/>
<br/>
Then you start to put the mask away. "It's just an idea I had for—"<br/>
<br/>
But Katy's hand shoots out and she grabs you by the wrist. She is breathing heavily, and her gaze is haggard. "I could get caught," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," you have to agree.<br/>
<br/>
Katy groans, but drags your hand with the mask to her. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she moans as she takes the mask from you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get a text from Katy the next morning, asking to meet you in the parking lot before school. She sounds frantic. You shower, dress, and eat in a rush, then fly out to Westside.<br/>
<br/>
You don't remember what Katy drives, but that's okay, for she spots you. "Will!" she shouts, and runs up to you with a shining face. She doesn't look upset, only excited. Super-excited. Splitting-the-seams-of-her-clothes excited.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God, Will!" she gasps as she tumbles up against you. "It worked!"<br/>
<br/>
"What worked?"<br/>
<br/>
"The mask! The—!" She gulps. "You gave it to me to wear, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" <br/>
<br/>
"Well it worked! I woke up this morning—! Early! And I was all thinking, 'Shoot, I gotta get up and go for a run'. And I was, like, where's my stuff, and, this isn't my room. And then it just hit me." She has to gulp down a couple of lungfuls of air. "It was like <i>I was Stephanie, </i>and I was thinking like her! 'Cos, you know," she races on in a voice that just gets faster and higher in pitch, "Stephanie goes running every morning, and I think I knew that, but this was like I was thinking that <i>I</i> had to go running because <i>I</i>—"<br/>
<br/>
You grab her by the shoulders to keep her from running away with herself.<br/>
<br/>
"It was so freaky," she says, and repeats it a couple of times. "And then it got really freaky 'cos I forgot those words you told me last night for how to get it off. I was about to text you and ask you to give them to me again— Actually, I was about to go for a run for real 'cos I was so scared of getting caught by my mom, but then, pop! Bang! They came back to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's good," you agree.<br/>
<br/>
Her breath comes in deep gulps as she tries to catch it. "So I wonder why it worked for you so quick. You said it did, right?" She shoots you a suspicious glance.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Maybe it's 'cos I'm the one who made the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"But I'm the one who put it on Stephanie!"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "So let's make a new mask. You can make it from scratch—I'll supervise—and you can put it on someone. See if it works for you then."<br/>
<br/>
Katy's eyes get very wide. Then she flushes. Her teeth show, and a tiger-ish expression distends her face.<br/>
<br/>
"And I know exactly who to use it on!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're not able to talk to her about it then and there. Nor can you talk about it at lunch, for you take it in a quartet with her, Caleb, and Meghan. Neither you nor Katy talk much. For your part, you're too distracted by what she said in the parking lot before classes, and you're also distracted by Caleb and Meghan, who seem to be getting along great. She laughs at all his dry jokes, and with calm diffidence he accepts her invitation to hang out at Catherine Muskov's house after school.<br/>
<br/>
"You're handling Meghan pretty calmly," you observe to him as you trudge back into the school afterward.<br/>
<br/>
"There's no reason to lose your shit just because a girl's interested in you," he replies with cool understatement.<br/>
<br/>
You glance back over your shoulder. "That's good. 'Cos here comes Meghan again," you lie.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb spins so hard that his backpack flies off and bursts open when it hits the ground. You leave him, chuckling to yourself, as with a burning face he crouches to pack his shit up again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've got your own after-school plans, and they take you back out to the elementary school basement. Katy joins you, and you guide her through the crafting of a mask and a brain band. You insist that she do all the work herself, including making up new batches of sealant and glue (though you still have plenty on hand), and you send her home with a copy of the runes so she can finish carving them into the metal strip that she made. You return home as well, carrying the book with you.<br/>
<br/>
Up in your room you race through your homework carelessly and with no heed for accuracy or even basic technique. You take frequent breaks, both to answer texts from Katy, talking about your plans for tomorrow, and to glance over the next spell in the book. It doesn't take long go figure out that it uses the same ingredients as the last spell—the one that made the lackey—but with some slight changes.<br/>
<br/>
One of the changes pleases you: It calls for only a tenth as much dirt as the last spell.<br/>
<br/>
But one of them alarms you: It also calls for a "human body."<br/>
<br/>
At least, that's how the translator renders it, and "humana corpus" on its face doesn't seem to admit of much ambiguity. You try translating some similar English terms, and decide (tentatively, for the book's Latin can be so bizarre) that it means a live person and not a corpse.<br/>
<br/>
Which in one way is a blessing, but in another way is quite a curse.<br/>
<br/>
You're pretty sure that Katy is not going to want to go along with human experimentation. You're not even sure that you can stomach it. Even with the ethical quandaries, who would you use?<br/>
<br/>
Unfortunately, there is an easy and plausible answer to that.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"We use it on Hannah!" Katy hissed at you that morning in the parking lot. "We use it on Hannah and we—!"<br/>
<br/>
Yes, Katy had definitely gotten into Stephanie's mask if she recognizes the depths of rage that her friend has for her romantic rival. And it's like some of Stephanie got stuck inside Katy's head. For where before Katy had just acted like she was going along with the crowd in attacking Hannah, now it sounds like it's personal.<br/>
<br/>
So that's who the new mask is for. She wants to get it onto Hannah, and then she is going to use it to impersonate Hannah and trick her boyfriend, Marc Garner, into breaking up with her. She wants your help.<br/>
<br/>
You're going to give it to her. But are you going to use it also to help yourself?</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312215112111111
author_id: seuzz
title: What Happened to Hannah
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You got your homework?" you ask Katy the next morning in the parking lot. She pulls the metal strip from her backpack and with a bright but panicked expression waggles it at you. "Lemme see."<br/>
<br/>
"Did I do good, teach?" Katy asks as you take it from her.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll double-check it at lunch. Meet me out here? We can hang out in my truck, glue the stuff together and finish making it."<br/>
<br/>
Katy wrinkles her nose at you and grins.<br/>
<br/>
You catch your breath, and before you know what you're doing, you've caught her by the elbows and stepped up to lean in and put your face into hers. You wrinkle your nose too, and touch its tip to hers.<br/>
<br/>
Then you jump back and give her a panicked grin of your own.<br/>
<br/>
Katy gasps and her mouth falls open. Then she squeals and feels for your arm. You don't hold hands, but you do bump against each other as, on tottering legs, you walk into the school together.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The plan that Katy has come up with is very simple, and for that reason very likely to backfire spectacularly. She has texted Hannah and asked to meet her in order to "talk about" some of the problems that some of the girls are having with her. (Hannah knows she's not popular in some quarters of the school.) The idea, Katy tells you, is to corner Hannah in her car, get a mask onto her, and scamper off before she wakes up.<br/>
<br/>
Well, it has the virtue of the direct approach, but you can imagine it going pear-shaped in all sorts of ways. Not that it matters. You've got your own scheme that you're not telling Katy about, and if Hannah doesn't show up where Katy is expecting her, that'll be fine.<br/>
<br/>
You're only a few minutes from the first bell, and the girls' soccer team is already warming up on the fields, so you pull Katy over so she can point Hannah out to you. She's a husky girl but she's probably in better shape than you, with strong thighs, wide hips, and a massive head of wiry brown hair that she keeps pulled back in a head band.<br/>
<br/>
In your classes, you ask around for Hannah's schedule so you can find her later without Katy knowing, and it's Amanda Ferguson of all people who tells you that she has Hannah for fourth-period German. So you risk being late to English so that you can look for Hannah in her German class.<br/>
<br/>
She comes sweeping along just minutes before a tardy bell: a tall girl who thanks to her height and muscles would probably have a weight advantage on you in a wrestling match. Almost at once you can tell why she would be popular with some of the guys and unpopular with a lot of the girls, for she has a bold stare and a lazy, mischievous smile that mark her out as a girl who probably likes to have fun and doesn't give two fucks who knows it.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Hannah," you say, jumping in front of her as she swings toward the classroom doorway. She stops to give you a direct but not unfriendly look. <i>She's a lot less scary than Stephanie,</i> you find yourself thinking. "You don't know me, but my name's Will Prescott and I'm, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Katy Conlee's boyfriend?</i> You hang a hard left at the last moment and introduce yourself merely as Katy's "friend."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you're supposed to meet up with her after school, right?" you confirm. "Four-thirty at Panera? Can I get you to come meet up with me first? Down at the Acheson Community Center?"<br/>
<br/>
Naturally, Hannah wants to know what for, and she wants to know where this community center is. But after giving her the bullshit excuse you cooked up, she agrees with a skeptically amused nod of the head to meet you at a little before four.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend lunchtime in your truck with Katy, eating and guiding her through the final process of gluing the metal band to the interior of the mask. When you are done, you have a mask that she has made one-hundred-percent herself.<br/>
<br/>
And she can't wait to use it on Hannah. Last night, like the night before, she slept inside Stephanie's mask, and she is full of fiery schemes for teasing, humiliating, and breaking Hannah before delivering the coup-de-grace by destroying her relationship with Marc. <br/>
<br/>
"I should show up at Panera in Stephanie's mask, do you think?" she breathlessly asks. "That way it doesn't look like I'm— Oh, but then Stephanie might be the one who got in trouble," she corrects herself with a hard, sharp frown. "Shoot! Oh, but even if Hannah <i>did</i> think it was her, she can handle anything that Hannah can throw back at her." You're struck again by how much Katy seems to worship the ground that Stephanie walks on.<br/>
<br/>
"You will be out there in time, won't you, Will?" she anxiously asks as you hop out to go to class. You assure her that you will.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you're feeling pretty anxious yourself as four o'clock turns to four-fifteen, and Hannah still hasn't shown up at the elementary school. You don't have contact info for her, and it would suck mightily if she went out to Panera to meet Katy while you were waiting for her here. But finally, as you're about to wrap things up and race out to meet Katy, Hannah comes driving up in a big SUV.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey there," she says after she's opened the door. "So what's the deal with Katy that you wanted to warn me about?"<br/>
<br/>
That was your bullshit excuse for this meeting: as a concerned friend of Katy (you told her) you were worried that she was going to say or do something stupid at this meeting with Hannah, and you wanted to warn Hannah ahead of time so she wouldn't take it personally.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't want to talk more than you have to, and slam the mask into her face. She falls backward into the SUV, then slides out. You catch her, but it's like catching an avalanche, and she flops out of your arms to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
It's hard work—the hardest you've ever done, harder even than digging up all that dirt the other night—but you manage to drag her by the arms to the basement door. She thumps and bumps all the way down the stairs, and during the whole trip you can only visualize what would happen if someone came upon you doing this. After getting her to the bottom, you run up to close the door.<br/>
<br/>
There's no question of getting Hannah up onto a table, so with an overstraining heart you drag her over and flop her onto the open book. The other materials you had already prepared, and you quickly dump them over her. What will happen? You don't know. But you will have a mask of her, and a lackey to set it on, if things go really wrong.<br/>
<br/>
But you try not to think about things going "really wrong." At the same time it's also hard to think of a way in which they will go "really right" that won't end with this beefy girl, after she's recovered from your experiment, punching your face through a cinderblock wall.<br/>
<br/>
So, in truth, it's inertia that is carrying you forward. <i>Got to get through this spell,</i> you tell yourself. <i>See what's on the other side.</i><br/>
<br/>
All the powders, liquid, and dirt are piled up on Hannah when the mask reappears on her face. Not until you struck the match do you think, <i>Am I going to wind up burning up all her clothes?</i> and <i>What happens if I set this up wrong?</i> Terrible as that would be, you know how terrible the consequences will be if Hannah wakes up find her self covered in flammable filth.<br/>
<br/>
So you drop the match onto her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Do u stil want to get tgther?</i> you text Katy an hour later. You really really hope the answer will be "No," but you feel like you have to ask. It would look suspicious of you didn't. It's some time before she answers.<br/>
<br/>
In the meantime, you feverishly study the next spell. If it doesn't solve the problem you've made for yourself, maybe the one after it will.<br/>
<br/>
Hannah has gone home, after you used her cell phone to text Katy, telling her that she can't make it out to Panera to see her. Katy in turn has texted your phone to tell you of the cancellation.<br/>
<br/>
At least, you hope it was Katy who texted you. Lotta people suddenly pretending to be people that they aren't.<br/>
<br/>
Take the Hannah who went home. It wasn't Hannah, but a lackey who answered to her name, and which listened with a contemptuous incredulity as you told her to get dressed and drive home and pretend like she had never seen or even met you before.<br/>
<br/>
But there's another Hannah in the basement with you. This one won't talk to you, though. You suspect she won't talk to anyone ever again, unless you can find a fix.<br/>
<br/>
When you dropped the match onto her, a purple flame bloomed off, but it didn't burn long, and when it winked out you found that Hannah had been transformed into a statue. Well, technically it's called a <i>vinctus,</i> and the book (when you pried it from under her) smugly informed you that the real Hannah is now imprisoned within it—a thing with the color, texture, and solidity of the <i>pedisequos</i> you made earlier, but in the shape of Hannah Westrick, as though she had been flash-petrified. Is there a way to get her out? The book doesn't even so much as hint that there is. You had to peel the clothes off it and give it to the other Hannah that you materialized in the opposite corner of the basement.<br/>
<br/>
So when Katy texts back, <i>Come hang out w me?</i> you would really like to find an excuse to turn her down.</span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122151121111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Two-Faced Girlfriend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a neat balancing trick you're going to have to pull off—hiding stuff from Katy without tipping off that that's what you're doing. You could hide the mask you made of Coach Schell simply by stuffing it inside a desk. But the thing you made with Hannah Westrick is way too big and heavy for you to move and hide. You're terrified that Katy is going to come looking for you, and find you down here with it.<br/>
<br/>
That's why you text her back an <i>OK!</i>, lock up the basement, and drop off the book at your house before heading over to Panera. You will study up on that next spell tonight in your bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't see Katy when you stride into Panera a little later, and you're just taking out your cell phone to text her when you hear your name shouted. "Will!" You look over.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit!</i> you think when you see Stephanie Wyatt, seated in a back corner, waving at you. <i>At least she's smiling at me. I wonder if Katy's been softening her up.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So I guess we're going to have to set up the thing with Hannah for later," Stephanie says as you approach. "It figures she'd flake out on us."<br/>
<br/>
"Set up what thing?" you ask Stephanie in alarm. <i>Has Katy told her something without telling you that she told her?</i><br/>
<br/>
"The thing with Hannah," Stephanie says. She gives you a very direct stare. "The thing we were talking about today and yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
Even then, it takes an embarrassingly long time for the penny to drop. "Katy?" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"Dur! I mean—" She looks a little abashed. "You didn't know it was me?"<br/>
<br/>
"How could I? You look just like, uh—!"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you I was going to come out like this! That way—"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were only <i>thinking</i> about doing that! You didn't tell me you were actually going to!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry! But jeez, calm down, Will! Are you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help flinching under that hard, jewel-like stare of hers, even if it is a lot less scary than the real girl's. "I'm fine," you assure her as you flop into the seat across from her. "Just surprised. And nervous. On account of we're somewhere someone might see us!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, thbpt! So what if they do?" Her lips twitch into a sharp smile. "Can't Stephanie hang out with you? I mean, if you're hanging out with her friend Katy." <br/>
<br/>
She holds your eye. Then, suddenly, she walks her fingers across the tabletop to snatch at your hand. You jerk away and she laughs. "Does Stephanie scare you, Will?" she snickers.<br/>
<br/>
"No! She just freaks me out, 'cos she's a freak!"<br/>
<br/>
"She is not a freak!" The smile falls off her face.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mean it like that! I just mean—" <br/>
<br/>
You struggle for words as Katy glares at you. Now she looks a lot more like Stephanie. A pissed-off Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, yes, she scares me," you gasp. "She's the only girl at school that does."<br/>
<br/>
Katy relaxes. "Yeah, I can tell. She does that to a lot of people." She titters—a very un- Stephanie-like sound. "She did that to <i>me</i> the first time we met."<br/>
<br/>
You give her a squinty look. "You really like Stephanie, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well sure."<br/>
<br/>
"You really look up to her, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
A faint blush rises up her cheeks, and she looks away with a shrug. Her brow hardens and her jaw sets, and again you catch a sudden, close resemblance to the real girl.<br/>
<br/>
"It's nice, sitting here with you," you say.<br/>
<br/>
That earns you a sharp look. "You mean with Stephanie?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, with you. But there's an extra buzz with you being like this," you confess. Now it's your turn to walk your fingers across the tabletop to snatch at her hand. But she doesn't jerk away, but just gives you a very Stephanie-like direct stare. <br/>
<br/>
At first you're worried that you might have offended her, making it sound like you think Stephanie is sexier than her or something. But then you feel something traveling up your calf. <br/>
<br/>
It's her foot. When you start, Katy lifts her eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?" you squeak.<br/>
<br/>
"You have to ask, Prescott?" she says in a very even tone. <i>Oh God,</i> you think, <i>she's actually trying to channel Stephanie! But while flirting with me!</i><br/>
<br/>
And it's actually pretty hot.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you really want to stick around here?" she asks. It's like she's trying to purr, but it comes out like a growl.<br/>
<br/>
"Where do <i>you</i> want to go?" you squeak.<br/>
<br/>
"Anywhere people can't see what we're gonna get up to."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>The next day.</i> Katy wanted to set up another ambush for Hannah, but you put her off by pleading that you wanted to get deeper into the book because there might be some "pretty sweet" things farther in that could make for even better pranks. It's after school, and you're at the elementary school basement again, trying hard to concentrate on the next spell.<br/>
<br/>
Because you had no luck working on it last night.<br/>
<br/>
For something like two hours you and Katy entertained each other on the university campus, where Stephanie knew of a quiet, shadowy corner where you could nestle and murmur at each other. And then, after she declared that she had to go home, you spent the rest of the evening on your bed, reliving the evening and thinking about ways of going further with her.<br/>
<br/>
"I've never kissed a boy," Katy confessed when she had you in that dark corner, with her arms draped around your neck. She smooched you lightly on the lips. "Neither has Katy," she added, and that made it even hotter because it was like she was roleplaying Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
You kissed back. Tiny little sucking smooches on the lips and under the nose. You sniffed at her hair and ear, and she nibbled at your neck.You stroked and held and squeezed each other, and after awhile you and she slid down the side of the wall to the ground, to hold and pinch and bite at each other. No clothes came off, but she let you caress her strong, bare thighs all over, and she did put her hands up the front of your shirt to stroke and rub your chest and belly. <br/>
<br/>
You took frequent breaks, to walk around the grassy quads between the buildings and to talk. She asked you about your family and history, and she told you about hers. About her older brother, who is so smart and athletic, and about her little brother, who's really smart but is kind of a dweeb, and about her dad who is a real tightwad even though he owns a really successful furniture store downtown. It took you awhile to realize that she was still roleplaying, talking about Stephanie's family, not her own. <i>So this is what it'd be like to go out with Stephanie,</i> you kept thinking to yourself with buzzing excitement. It was also, strangely, a turn-on to realize that Katy was also getting off on the impersonation.<br/>
<br/>
Which made it very weird in eighth-period Astronomy, when you strode into the classroom and almost tripped over a desk when Stephanie—the real Stephanie, you'd presume—lifted her face from her phone long enough to give you a nod of acknowledgement. You popped out in flop sweat all over. <i>Jesus, if she knew what I got up to last night!</i> you thought.<br/>
<br/>
But you've got a crisis to deal with, and you came out to the elementary school both because that's where your supplies are, and because that's where Hannah's remains are, to remind you that you need to buckle down to work.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I already used it on Hannah," you tell Katy later that night when you meet her at the Dairy Queen. She gasps, and her eyes widen.<br/>
<br/>
They are her own eyes because you are meeting her under her own face. When she called to invite you out—she's rather forward that way; no waiting on the boy to call her—she had giggled and asked if you wanted to meet up with Stephanie again. You thought you'd flatter her by telling her that you wanted tonight's date to be with Katy Conlee.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe that's why she said she wanted to meet at the Dairy Queen instead of the university. And maybe it's why, when you went in for a kiss, she turned her cheek to you and blushed furiously. <i>Maybe it's easier for Katy to make out while under a mask,</i> you wondered. <i>Or maybe Stephanie's more of a tigress than I give her credit for.</i><br/>
<br/>
Anyway, she's too shocked now by what you just said to be affectionate.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you continue. "I texted Hannah, got her to meet up with me because I said I was a friend of yours, and, well— Pop!" You mime pushing a mask into someone's face.<br/>
<br/>
Which is what you did, sort of. Only it's more complicated than that.<br/>
<br/>
The new spell called for the same stuff as in the last two spells, only with even less graveyard dirt and no human body. This you had to mix together over the sigil and burn into a black, oily paste, like tar, and apply to the inside of a mask. (You used the mask you made of yourself.) Into the mask you then dropped a hank of your own hair and set it on fire. It evaporated in a puff of smoke, leaving the interior of the mask a grayish white, like the skin of a lackey.<br/>
<br/>
And that's what it was, in a sense. A lackey inside of a mask.<br/>
<br/>
"So, now she has to do what we tell her," you inform Katy. "Well, what <i>I</i> tell her, because it looks like I'm its master."<br/>
<br/>
"So it's like she's mind-controlled?" Katy asks in an awed voice.<br/>
<br/>
"More or less."<br/>
<br/>
"But we can't impersonate her?"<br/>
<br/>
But before you can reply, Stephanie Wyatt and Kristy Suffolk come striding into the DQ.</span></div></div>


path: 111134414111122131221511211111111
author_id: seuzz
title: That Voodoo That You Do Too Well
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Hey Will," Stephanie says as she strides over. "You here on a date?" There's a hard twinkle in her eye, and the corners of her mouth are like the curved tips of a scimitar.<br/>
<br/>
You give Katy a wide-eyed glance and say, "Uh."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Katy tells Stephanie in a very prim voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Cool," Stephanie says. She rubs her nose with her palm. "Where's your friend Johansson?" she asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a double date."<br/>
<br/>
You expect her to give you a look, but she only laughs and punches you in the shoulder. "We won't bust in on you then, we just stopped in for coffee. Come on." She grasps Kristy by the arm and whirls her away.<br/>
<br/>
"She comes to Dairy Queen for coffee?" you ask Katy.<br/>
<br/>
"It's cheaper than Starbucks," Katy murmurs. "Why didn't you tell her we were on a date?"<br/>
<br/>
Your guts freeze. "I didn't know if we were! I thought we were just talking, and— <br/>
<br/>
"We're on a date, Katy!" you exclaim as her frown deepens. You lunge across the table to cover her hands with yours. You pull her fists to your face—she resists at first, then relents—to nibble on her knuckles. "That's why I asked <i>you</i> out and not—" You glance back at the counter, where Stephanie and Kristy are ordering. "Not <i>Stephanie.</i>" you hiss.<br/>
<br/>
"You can let her join us if you want," Katy says, a little petulantly.<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't talking about the <i>real</i> Stephanie! I'm talking about the one I was with last night." You rub your cheek over her fists. "Do you wanna bail on here, go up to the university again?"<br/>
<br/>
A small smile twitches onto Katy's face. "Actually, I wanna see this thing you did with Hannah."<br/>
<br/>
You stifle a sigh, then pull Katy to her feet.<br/>
<br/>
"You leaving, guys?" Stephanie calls out as you head for the door. "Hey, party at Meghan's house on Friday! You'll be there, it's gonna be fun!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"That's where they're going to do the voodoo thing on her, on Hannah," Katy tells you the next day at lunch, which again you take with her in your truck, in the student parking lot. "Meghan Farris's party."<br/>
<br/>
You don't know Meghan Farris real well, except by name and sight, and have the impression that there's nothing very special about her. Maybe a voodoo prank at her place against Hannah Westrick is just the thing to give her some notoriety. But you can't help worrying a little about what might happen. The book you found at Arnholm's has turned out to be full of real magic. What if the voodoo that Stephanie and her friends try also turns out to be real, and it does something to the lackey you made?<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," Katy confesses when you ask exactly what her friends have planned. "I've been hanging out more with you, I haven't been keeping up."<br/>
<br/>
You suppress a half-smile, but when she edges closer to you, you edge over to meet her. You lean in for a tiny smooch. Katy titters and sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"I just can't help thinking it might be a bad idea," you sigh, and describe your fear about what might happen if voodoo and mask-magic collided. "Can't you talk them out of it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one's ever talked Stephanie out of anything," Katy says. "Besides—" She groans. "Oh God, I need to stop wearing that mask of her to bed."<br/>
<br/>
"You're still doing that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, and I need to stop! It's, like, addictive!" She rubs her face. "I keep imagining myself coming to school while wearing it." She turns a wet-eyed frown on you. "Does that make me sound, like, sick?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so," you tell her, though you know what she means. You lean in to nuzzle at the side of her head. "It just means, well, that you want to be more like Stephanie."<br/>
<br/>
Katy twists around to put her arms around you. "Anyway," she says, "that's how come I know it's no use trying to talk Stephanie into not doing the trick. She <i>hates</i> Hannah so much. Now <i>I</i> hate her so much." She sniffs. "It's how come I'm kind of glad you did the mind-control thing on her."<br/>
<br/>
You cringe a little. What if Katy ever asks you to reverse it?<br/>
<br/>
"Well, then, we'll let Stephanie and them do it," you sigh. "I'm sure everything will work out."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Dude, I didn't <i>ask</i> you to turn this into a double date." Caleb gives you an exasperated look. "I was gonna go pick up Meghan—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a double date," you retort. "I just got a text from Stephanie, asking me to carpool with someone so we wouldn't cover up the street out front with cars."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, there's your problem," Caleb says, "getting texts from Stephanie. Bossy bitch-lady can't stand the idea of—"<br/>
<br/>
"She didn't text you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." Caleb's expression turns smug. "I guess Stephanie figures I got my shit cinched up tight enough she doesn't need to micromanage me."<br/>
<br/>
You flip him the bird.<br/>
<br/>
It's Friday evening, and you've swung by Caleb's to pick him up before heading over to pick up Katy and then Meghan. (Velasquez, that is.) Like you, Caleb is in nice jeans and a long-sleeve, button-up shirt. But you figure that, with your cap and shock of hair, you look a lot less like a dweeb than he does.<br/>
<br/>
You thought he'd be happy to come along with you, so as to act as a buffer between him and Meghan. But maybe you were underestimating him. Because when he returns from Meghan's front porch with her, he makes a point of stopping in the middle of the walk to give her an open-mouthed kiss right in front of you. <i>Jesus!</i> you exclaim to yourself, but say nothing.<br/>
<br/>
Meghan Farris lives in a modest house in a modest neighborhood, and you can see why she would want people to carpool in, for by the time you arrive the street is already filled up along both sides, and you have to creep between the parked cars and onto a side street before you can find a place to pull in. All the houses are squeezed close enough in that you wonder how many families are gritting their teeth at the beat that is softly thumping from the party house.<br/>
<br/>
If you thought this was going to be a date, you and Caleb are both quickly disabused, for your girl and his both quickly drop you to scurry off with Stephanie and some other girls. "This is going to be a disaster!" Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"They'll be back!" You have to shout it over the music, which jumped in volume shortly after you walked in.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean the thing they've got planned! You hear about that?" He squints at you.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean their prank on Hannah? Yeah, but I didn't know <i>you</i> knew about it!"<br/>
<br/>
"I helped them set it up!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" He sounds glum. "Meghan showed me the book they're working out of, and I helped 'em get the stuff together for it! Added something a little extra, too! Shit! I need a drink!" He wanders off, looking for refreshments.<br/>
<br/>
Katy and Meghan pop up a few times to keep you company, but mostly they are out of sight, presumably helping their friends prep the prank. You come close a couple of time to texting Hannah, to tell her not to show up, but that would just be putting off the inevitable, you sense. When she does show up, about an hour after you arrived, she is with her boyfriend, Marc Garner. It's only then, when you look around, that you realize that there's not nearly as many jocks as you would have assumed would show up. Marc is just about the only guy there who can boast a set of muscles, and you suspect Hannah and Stephanie between them could take down most of the guys as well.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Caleb drawls when you mention the lack of sports guys. "I noticed the party was a lot less stupid than I was expecting it to be."<br/>
<br/>
Maybe your nerves have rubbed off on Katy, for she is twitching when she finds you an hour later.<br/>
<br/>
"It's almost set to happen," she tells you. "Dominique's putting the contacts in." She looks at Caleb. "Your girlfriend wants you there, watching, make sure nothing too bad happens." Caleb shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"What the <i>fuck</i> are they planning on doing?" you ask him in alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't your girlfriend tell you?" he replies. "Come on, let's watch." He pulls you through the house until you find Hannah, and settle back in a corner to wait for the excitement.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Meghan's never going to speak to you again," you inform Stephanie. "Farris, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, it was brilliant!" she exclaims "<i>You</i> were brilliant!" she tells Caleb. "Boo-yah!" She high-fives him.<br/>
<br/>
You're all out on the street—you and Caleb, your girlfriends and their friends—having been thrown out by the hostess. You don't particularly mind. The girls don't seem to mind either, for they are laughing, and Stephanie is jubilant. "Fuck, I wanna go do it again," she chortles. "Only we wouldn't have the element of surprise. Come on!" She nudges Kristy Suffolk. "Let's go celebrate!"<br/>
<br/>
But you take Caleb home, and you drop off Katy as well. Unlike her friends, she was muted after the prank, and you ask her what's wrong. "Now <i>I'm</i> worried," she says. "I didn't know they were going to set her on fire!"<br/>
<br/>
You assure her it was just some flash powder that Caleb cooked up for the gang, but she reminds you of the fear that you had expressed, about your magic and the voodoo interacting with unexpected results.<br/>
<br/>
So you're not too surprised when the next morning you get a frantic text from her, but you're a little more worried to see she wants you to meet her at the clubhouse. Her car is there when you arrive, but there's also an SUV. Horror sits on Katy's face.<br/>
<br/>
"Look what they did to her, Will!" she cries, and points at the SUV.<br/>
<br/>
A stone statue of Hannah Westrick is sitting behind the wheel.</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312215112111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Coming Clean with Katy Conlee
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It takes you a long moment to realize what Katy is suggesting. "Will!" she finally shouts when you only stare at her, and points at the finely executed statue of Hannah Westrick that is sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. "That's what Stephanie and them did to Hannah last night! When they—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait wait wait wait wait!" you yelp. "What are you—? How did Hannah get out here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I called her," Katy says. She eyes swell up and her lips puff into a quivering frown. "I wanted to see if she was okay after what happened last night! So I asked her to meet me out here, and she asked if <i>you</i> were going to be here, and I said yes because I thought maybe you would be, that I'd call you anyway to come help check up on her. Well, she got here, and—"<br/>
<br/>
Katy swallows hard and holds something up. Only now do you realize that she's been holding a mask all this time.<br/>
<br/>
"She seemed like she was okay," Katy continues, "only she was mad about the thing last night. But I thought I should check on her anyway. I remember you told me that you put a mask on her that was mind-controlling her. So I decided to try taking it off her to see if that made a difference, and— And—!"<br/>
<br/>
She bursts out crying and points at Hannah.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh Jesus,</i> you think. <i>She really does think the voodoo spell did that Hannah.</i><br/>
<br/>
You've no idea what exactly her reasoning is, but you can sort of guess. Dominique Hughes (another of Stephanie's friends) came out of a bedroom dressed in an old-fashioned silk gown, wearing contact lenses that turned her eyes a milky white, like a blind woman's. While chanting some kind of Creole curse, she hurled a fistfuls of dark earth at Hannah, while from another angle Meghan surreptitiously lit and tossed some paper cartridges of flash powder that Caleb had made up.<br/>
<br/>
Dirt plus fire. It's not so different from the stuff you used in the spell that really did turn Hannah into this ... thing. The spell might even have used some of the same chemicals that Caleb's flash powder used. And for sure Katy has no better idea for how Hannah could have been turned into a grayish-white stone statue.<br/>
<br/>
But even though her mistake gives you perfect cover for hiding your own responsibility for Hannah's current condition, you can't let Katy think that she and her friends are even accidentally responsible.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not your fault, Katy," you tell her. "It's not Stephanie's fault or Dominique's fault or anyone's fault that—"<br/>
<br/>
"But the thing we to her did last night!" she wails. "With the dirt and the spell and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hannah was already like this," you blurt out. "Last night, even before she got out to the party!"<br/>
<br/>
Your words seem to catch Katy by surprise, and she abruptly stops crying, although the snot and tears continue to stream onto her cheeks and lip.<br/>
<br/>
"It's my fault," you tell her. "I'm the one who did this to her. I didn't want to tell you."<br/>
<br/>
Katy's forehead creases in puzzlement, and she blinks at you.<br/>
<br/>
What you tell her next is the hardest thing you've ever had to confess, and you feel like you're going to throw up as you relate it.<br/>
<br/>
"It's one of the spells in the book. Before the, uh, mind-control spell. You were going to talk to Hannah, remember, to make a mask of her? Only she texted you and cancelled? Well, that was me texting you, on her phone. Because I asked her to come out here early and meet me."<br/>
<br/>
Katy's brow furrows even more deeply, and she wipes the snot off her lip.<br/>
<br/>
"I did make a mask of her, like we were going to, but I did more than that. The, uh, next spell in the book, the one before the mind-control spell, it called for a special ingredient." <br/>
<br/>
You swallow hard, and your heart beats so rapidly that it feels like a bird flapping against your rib cage.<br/>
<br/>
"It said you had to use a person. A human body. I didn't know what it would do, but I had Hannah, and she was unconscious, so—"<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and grind the heels of your hands into them.<br/>
<br/>
"So I dragged Hannah downstairs and I used her. It turned her into this." You drop your hands from your face and point to Hannah.<br/>
<br/>
Katy turns with a puzzled frown between you and Hannah. Her expressions shows no sign of comprehension.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a— Well, it's like the last thing I made. The, uh, lackey. Only it uses a person, and it turns the person into a lackey. It works the same way, though. If you put a mask on it, it has to obey you. Well, I had Hannah's mask, so— Well, I put it on the first lackey, the lackey one. Hannah popped up, and I sent her home after texting you to cancel the meeting. God, I was in such a panic! I sent her home, but I was stuck with this thing. I had to hide it. So last night, before the party, I texted, uh, Hannah to come out, and I moved the mask onto this one." Again, you indicate the statue sitting in the SUV. You smile wanly to yourself. "It was the perfect place to hide her."<br/>
<br/>
All the expression has fallen from Katy's face. She stares at you. "So she's not real?" she asks. "Hannah isn't real?"<br/>
<br/>
You can only shrug. "Depends what you mean by 'real'. I guess, though, it's just a ... a <i>thing</i> that's disguised like Hannah."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said she was Hannah, but she was mind-controlled."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug again. "I didn't know what to tell you, Katy. I thought you'd be mad. Mad at me for—" You have to swallow hard to push back the tears that you feel forming. "For doing that thing to Hannah. I know you don't like her, but—"<br/>
<br/>
With sudden violence Katy shoves you and storms past. Before you can react she runs to her car and rips the door open. She starts it and drives off. You can only stand and watch.<br/>
<br/>
And because she has taken Hannah's mask with her, she has left you at the school with a petrified Hannah Westrick sitting in the driver's seat of her SUV.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend the next few hours taking your phone out and putting it away. <i>I should talk to Katy</i> vies with <i>I need to give her some time and distance.</i> But you are also getting texts from friends, more than you are used to. Caleb wants to get together with you—he implies without saying so that Meghan and some more of her friends would be along, so it sounds like he wants you as male company—and you even field some texts from a couple of Katy's friends, asking what you're up to. But it's not until you get a text from Stephanie that you begin to think that you might be in even worse trouble than you suspect.<br/>
<br/>
Until that text comes in, though, you try to keep your mind off the disaster by digging deeper into the book. You have the wild but vague hope that there might be way to reverse the spell. At the very least, you could show Katy (assuming she ever speaks to you again, and doesn't just turn you over to the cops or something) that you're serious about fixing your ugly mistake.<br/>
<br/>
Alas, you find you've reached a dead end. The book is damaged. Half of the next spell—the bottom half where the sigil would be—is torn away and missing. So, not only are you unable to complete the next spell, you are unable to turn the page to get at the spells that follow.<br/>
<br/>
You are still trying to grapple with the magnitude of this disaster—and trying to figure out how one can <i>tear away a page that doesn't want to turn loose from the pages behind</i>—when the text comes from Stephanie: <i>Wht thehell u say do to katy?</i><br/>
<br/>
You have no idea what she means, so you ask. Stephanie replies, <i>Nvr seen hrer thismesseed up bfor.</i> Painfully over the course of a half dozen of the most atrociously misspelled texts you've ever tried deciphering, Stephanie explains that Katy was out at her house briefly and was nearly incoherent with anger, both at Stephanie (and her other friends) and at you. Because Stephanie doesn't think she did anything wrong, she is sure that it must be your fault. You tell you have no idea what Katy is mad about, which earns you a frosty-feeling silence from Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
It's not long after that—and you're still down in the basement, numbly trying to figure out what to do—when you hear a car and look out the window. It's Katy. <i>Maybe she remembered to bring Hannah's mask back,</i> you think. <i>At least that's something.</i><br/>
<br/>
Katy's expression is stony when you go up to meet her, and she looks like she's been crying. "Katy," you start to say. <br/>
<br/>
"Just shut up, Will," she says. "I need your help, but after that—" She sniffs hard, and shudders.<br/>
<br/>
"I need to get Hannah's clothes," she says when she recovers. "And I need you to make sure I don't mess anything up."<br/>
<br/>
"Mess up what?" you ask with wary fear.<br/>
<br/>
Katy draws a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to put on Hannah's mask. If it'll work for me," she adds. "I'm going to turn myself into Hannah." Again, she shudders a little.<br/>
<br/>
"What? What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"For <i>ever,</i>" Katy declares in a gloomy voice.<br/>
<br/>
You stare. <i>"What?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to ... to turn myself into her. Take her place." Katy sniffs hard. "What we— What we did to her is <i>awful.</i>  She— We can't just leave her this way. She <i>deserves</i> to have a real person live her life for her. Not just a ... a magical dummy!" Katy pats her eyes with the back of her hand. "And doing that for her is the least I can do!"</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312215112111111112
author_id: seuzz
title: Katy Takes Charge
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It takes you a long moment to realize what Katy is suggesting. "Will!" she finally shouts when you only stare at her, and points at the finely executed statue of Hannah Westrick that is sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. "That's what Stephanie and them did to Hannah last night! When they—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait wait wait wait wait!" you yelp. "What are you—? How did Hannah get out here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I called her," Katy says. She eyes swell up and her lips puff into a quivering frown. "I wanted to see if she was okay after what happened last night! So I asked her to meet me out here, and she asked if <i>you</i> were going to be here, and I said yes because I thought maybe you would be, that I'd call you anyway to come help check up on her. Well, she got here, and—"<br/>
<br/>
Katy swallows hard and holds something up. Only now do you realize that she's been holding a mask all this time.<br/>
<br/>
"She seemed like she was okay," Katy continues, "only she was mad about the thing last night. But I thought I should check on her anyway. I remember you told me that you put a mask on her that was mind-controlling her. So I decided to try taking it off her to see if that made a difference, and— And—!"<br/>
<br/>
She bursts out crying and points at Hannah.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh Jesus,</i> you think. <i>She really does think the voodoo spell did that Hannah.</i><br/>
<br/>
You've no idea what exactly her reasoning is, but you can sort of guess. Dominique Hughes (another of Stephanie's friends) came out of a bedroom dressed in an old-fashioned silk gown, wearing contact lenses that turned her eyes a milky white, like a blind woman's. While chanting some kind of Creole curse, she hurled a fistfuls of dark earth at Hannah, while from another angle Meghan surreptitiously lit and tossed some paper cartridges of flash powder that Caleb had made up.<br/>
<br/>
Dirt plus fire. It's not so different from the stuff you used in the spell that really did turn Hannah into this ... thing. The spell might even have used some of the same chemicals that Caleb's flash powder used. And for sure Katy has no better idea for how Hannah could have been turned into a grayish-white stone statue.<br/>
<br/>
And this, you realize, gives you perfect cover for hiding your own responsibility for Hannah's current condition.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God," you murmur, and put your arms around her. She snuffles and cries into the front of your shirt as you hold her to your chest.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"It's not your fault," you tell Katy after she has recovered herself. "It's not Stephanie's fault or any of their fault either," you assure her. "They were just— They just thought they were throwing dirt and firecrackers at her. They didn't know that she was— I mean," you hastily correct yourself. "They didn't know it was magic, or that there was some other kind of magic around." Flop sweat stands out on your forehead. "It was just a really unlucky accident."<br/>
<br/>
"But then it's still our fault," Katy insists. "For doing the mind-control thing to her."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't have anything to do with that," you tell her. "I'm the one who did that. You didn't even know I did it!"<br/>
<br/>
"But I put you up to it. Sort of." Katy hangs her head. "I wanted to make a mask of her so that we could— Oh!"<br/>
<br/>
You've been leaning against the side of the old school all this time, and Katy jumps up now and kicks the ground.<br/>
<br/>
"This stupid fight! This stupid feud!" she fumes. "Stephanie and Hannah fighting over—! God!"<br/>
<br/>
"Marc Garner?" you say. "They both want to be his, uh, girlfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes! Stephanie does, but Hannah— And I don't even know that she <i>did</i> anything! I think Marc just asked her out before Stephanie could— Oh!" Her eyes go very wide, and the blood drains from her face.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
Katy doesn't answer, but rushes back over to her car. You follow.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you take care of Hannah?" Katy asks you as she starts her car. "I know I shouldn't just run off like this, but Marc and Stephanie—" She bites her lip. "I think I should go talk to her!"<br/>
<br/>
"About what?"<br/>
<br/>
"About Marc! Because he's going to be pissed at her!" Katy rolls the window up and puts the car in reverse. You watch as she drives off.<br/>
<br/>
Which is a relief, actually. The whole time you were comforting her, you were terrified that she'd try putting Hannah's mask on and would get the memories of what you did to her.<br/>
<br/>
But now you've got time to prevent that from happening.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After the spell that turned Hannah into a statue came the spell that you described to Katy as a "mind control" spell. It's not quite that, if you understand it correctly. It creates a paste that gets applied to the inside of a mask, and then inside the mask you have to burn some of your own hair. The result is a portable lackey. If you put the mask onto yourself (so the book seems to imply; but the Latin is so weird and the translator so unhelpful) then you can wear it the way you do a regular mask, as a disguise. But if someone else puts on the mask, it turns them into the person under the mask but it also turns them into a lackey that will have to obey you.<br/>
<br/>
The last thing you want to do is to turn Katy—your girlfriend—into a lackey, but after the lies you've been telling her, it might be a good idea to give yourself some insurance. The paste that you made yesterday you put into your own mask, and burned your own hair inside it. Now you make up some more paste and put it inside Hannah's mask, and again burn some of your hair inside it. Now, if Katy puts it on, she will turn into a lackey. But you'll be able to take it off her, and it will prevent her learning what you did to Hannah.<br/>
<br/>
Yesterday, before the party, you summoned Hannah out to the old school, and you shifted her mask onto the petrified Hannah. This was, in part a test, to see if putting Hannah's mask onto Hannah would fix the girl. It didn't, but you found that wherever you put the mask, the resulting lackey would obey you, and it seemed safer to hide the petrified Hannah under the mask than inside the basement, so you left it on the petrified girl. Now you put the treated mask back onto the thing inside her car. The mask vanishes, and color washes over the grayish-white thing behind the wheel. Hannah Westrick blinks and starts when she sees you. "What the—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's your boss?" you ask her, cautiously.<br/>
<br/>
"You are," she grinds out from between pursed lips. "Where'd that girl go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. Um, you should just go home or something."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, should I?" Hannah asks with barely veiled sarcasm. "What's the 'something' that I should do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just go back to what you were doing before. Just be Hannah."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever." She starts the car with a snort and turns it around toward the street. You have misgivings about sending the thing out without supervision. But it's not like you had anything to do with the real girl, so maybe it's more realistic if you send her away and try to forget about her.<br/>
<br/>
Besides, you're pretty sure Katy will turn out to be a handful.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're downstairs in the basement, puzzling at the next spell in the book—there seems to be something wrong with the page—when you get a text from Katy asking you to meet her up at the mall. <i>How come?</i> She just says, <i>Please?</i> so you lock up and make the thirty-minute drive to the other side of the city.<br/>
<br/>
She's in Larsen's Department Store, in the women's athletic section, when you arrive, but she has to text you directions to find her, for you'd never have found her if she hadn't. That's because (like the other day), Katy Conlee is nowhere in evidence, but Stephanie Wyatt is there, larger than life. "Hey, I need you give me a ride," she says as you approach.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God, what is this?"<br/>
<br/>
"I need a ride out to Marc's. The Garners."<br/>
<br/>
"What for?" Suddenly you are wary. Is this Katy in disguise, or the real Stephanie?<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately for your peace of mind, she answers your unspoken question in her next reply. "To talk to him. To fix things between him and Stephanie." She puts her hands on her hips and gives you a look.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Christ,</i> you think as you beckon her to follow her, <i>the more time you spend in that thing the more like her you get.</i><br/>
<br/>
And it's not just the attitude, you realize with a start. She's in a cherry-red polo shirt, white shorts, and brand-new sneakers. <i>She was up here buying herself a "Stephanie Wyatt wardrobe",</i> you realize with some little shock.<br/>
<br/>
"I have to go straighten things out between Stephanie and Marc," she says as she strides out the store. (You have to hustle to keep up.) "He's boiling mad at her, and she doesn't know it and I think she thinks she doesn't care. But she will when she comes down off her high."<br/>
<br/>
"Her high?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, she's still on a high after the thing with Hannah, and she doesn't know that Marc's probably never going to talk to her again. She's going to have to apologize to him. Like, she's going to have to grovel."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. So I'm—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I know what you're doing, Katy. That's what I'm saying 'Oh shit' about. You're going to apologize <i>for her,</i> aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah." She gives you a puzzled look.<br/>
<br/>
"What if we accidentally run into Stephanie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Risk I'm willing to take."<br/>
<br/>
You know how to mitigate the risk, though.</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312215112111112
author_id: seuzz
title: Hacking Hannah Westrick
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Human experimentation? That could go wrong in all kinds of ways you don't want to consider.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, maybe if you were still working on your own, you might—<i>might!</i>—give some serious thought toward doing something with that new spell. But you've got Katy involved now. It was tricky enough getting her to give you a chance when you started showing her this stuff. You really don't think she'd go along if you said you wanted to knock someone out, douse them with rocket fuel, and set them on fire.<br/>
<br/>
Besides, Katy's got a project of her own she wants to work on, so it's not like you still won't be having fun with things!<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You got your homework?" you ask Katy the next morning in the parking lot. She pulls the metal strip from her backpack and with a bright but panicked expression waggles it at you. "Lemme see."<br/>
<br/>
"Did I do good, teach?" Katy breathlessly asks as you take it from her.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll double-check it at lunch. Meet me out here? We can hang out in my truck, glue the stuff together and finish making it."<br/>
<br/>
Katy returns you a panicked grin.<br/>
<br/>
You catch your breath, and before you know what you're doing, you've caught her by the elbows and stepped in close to lean in and put your face into hers. You touch the tip of your nose to hers.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Wow!</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
Then you jump back and give her a panicked grin of your own.<br/>
<br/>
Katy gasps. Then she squeals and touches you lightly on the arm. A thrill runs up it to your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
It's the longest time (it feels like) before you can tear your gaze from hers.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're only a few minutes from the first bell, and the girls' soccer team is already warming up on the fields, so on the way in to school you pull Katy over so she can point Hannah out to you. She's a husky girl but she's probably in better shape than you, with strong thighs, wide hips, and a massive head of wiry brown hair that she keeps pulled back in a head band. <br/>
<br/>
"She's big," you observe.<br/>
<br/>
Katy titters. "Don't you think you can handle a girl?"<br/>
<br/>
You give her a dirty look. "You think I couldn't?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks pettish. "I've been thinking." She goes up on tiptoes to put her mouth to your ear. "What if <i>Stephanie</i> put the mask onto her?"<br/>
<br/>
You rear back. "I thought we weren't telling your friends!"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mean that!" Katy squeals. "No, I mean— I just mean, maybe it's someone who <i>looks</i> like Stephanie when we meet up with Hannah. That way—" <br/>
<br/>
She turns very pink as she breaks off before she can resume explaining.<br/>
<br/>
The plan she has come up with is very simple, and for that reason very likely to backfire spectacularly. She has already texted Hannah and asked to meet at the Panera Bakery and Cafe in order to "talk about" some of the problems that some of the girls are having with her. (Hannah knows she's not popular in some quarters of the school.) The idea, Katy tells you, is to corner Hannah in her car, get a mask onto her, and scamper off before she wakes up.<br/>
<br/>
Well, it has the virtue of the direct approach, but you can imagine it going pear-shaped in all sorts of ways. On the other hand, you don't have any better ideas. And Katy's idea for using Stephanie's face during the ambush would be a way of keeping the ambush from blowing back at you if you messed up.<br/>
<br/>
So you tell her you're fine with it.<br/>
<br/>
"You will be out there in time, won't you, Will?" Katy anxiously asks. You assure her that you will.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
In fact, you make sure to get out to Panera very early. You circle the parking lot, then go inside to look for Katy.<br/>
<br/>
No sign. You're thinking of going back out to wait for her when the doors fly open and Stephanie walks in. Instinctively, you flinch.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Calm down,</i> you tell yourself. <i>It's just Katy. She's already changed into the mask.</i><br/>
<br/>
But a hard lump forms in your chest as you watch the girl. She's standing very erect, with her shoulders back and her chest out, hands on her hips, in the don't-fuck-with-me attitude that Stephanie so casually carries around. She's dressed in Stephanie's typical wardrobe too: a polo shirt (turquoise) and hip-hugging shorts that show off her strong, tanned legs. She is slowly raking her gaze across the restaurant from behind a pair of shades.<br/>
<br/>
You're still giving her the wary once-over when she catches sight of you. Her mouth breaks into a white grin and she chucks her chin at you. "Hey Will!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is it Katy?</i> you ask yourself as you shuffle over in answer. Stephanie ignored you in Mr. Cash's class today. So why would she be so friendly now? "Is Hannah here yet?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I haven't seen her," you slowly answer. "Um ... Have you seen Katy around?"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie's eyebrows shoot up over the top of her shades. "Yes," she says through frozen lips. "She's here."<br/>
<br/>
Relief floods over you. But also anger and fear. "Jesus! You had me going!" you hiss.<br/>
<br/>
Her grin widens. "Did I? That's cool."<br/>
<br/>
"You're even dressed like—" You glance around. The middle-aged women and college students who are sitting nearby don't seem to be paying much attention. But you can't be too careful. "Let's take it outside."<br/>
<br/>
"You talking about my clothes, Will?" Stephanie asks as she follows you. "Yeah, I skipped out on school early, made a shopping run. I'm going to be in so much trouble for missing basketball!" She titters—the first break in her characterization.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that why I didn't see you at lunch?" You glance around the parking lot and into the street for some sign of Hannah Westrick, then remember you don't what she drives. "Do you know what kind of a car Hannah's going to be showing up in?" You turn to look at Stephanie when she doesn't answer.<br/>
<br/>
Her face has frozen into a familiar expression: a taut and watchful contempt. "Keep your shit together, Prescott," she says in a low growl. "You go flying off unhinged, you're going to fuck it up." Then, when you gape back at her, she grins. "Oh God," she gushes. "I'm freaking you out so hard, aren't I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's real funny. Do you know what she drives?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, a minivan." The smile slowly fades from her face, and she looks past you. "I'll go get the thing and keep watch here," she says, in a voice that has hardened again. "You can hang loose. I don't think I'm going to need you."<br/>
<br/>
"You asked me be here," you remind her.<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a long and steady look.<br/>
<br/>
"I want you here, Prescott, because I like you and I want you around. But I don't want you getting in the way. Besides, you don't want Hannah thinking you're mixed up in this, do you? She could kick <i>your</i> ass no trouble, and then she might get Marc and his friends to kick it if she really felt like holding a grudge."<br/>
<br/>
"And you?" you retort. Shamefacedly, you have to admit she's probably right. "You're going to get Stephanie in trouble!"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie holds your eye, then gives the tiniest shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"Stephanie can take care of herself. Her friends can kick Hannah's friends' asses. And that includes Marc and his friends."<br/>
<br/>
You shiver at the expertness of her impersonation. It is uncanny, even if it's because the mask has Stephanie's personality inside it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She follows you over to your truck, and you give her the mask that you assembled during lunch. She then goes back to guard the front of the restaurant. A quarter of an hour later, a minivan comes smoothly cruising into the parking lot, and Stephanie jogs out to meet it. The encounter is hidden from you by some obstructing vehicles, but a few moments later Stephanie steps back out into view and beckons you over.<br/>
<br/>
"Got it on her no trouble," she says, and gestures you toward the driver's side door of the minivan, which is loosely latched. You open it and peek inside. Hannah Westrick—a big girl with massive hair and a bold face—is slumped behind the wheel. "Yeah, she opened the door to get out," Stephanie says, "and I said, 'Hey, glad you could make it,' and pasted her right in the face. It felt good," she adds.<br/>
<br/>
"You're really getting into it, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" When you answer with half a smile, she says, "You mean acting like Stephanie? Yeah, sure. It makes it easier." But she looks uncomfortable.<br/>
<br/>
You don't say anything further, but watch Hannah's face for the reemergence of the mask. Stephanie busies herself with her cell phone. When something chimes inside Hannah's purse, she stops you from reaching for it. "That's just a text from me," she says, "telling her I can't make it out to meet. I, me, Katy," she clarifies.<br/>
<br/>
The mask falls into Hannah's lap before you can react. You snatch it up and close the door softly on the girl. Then you and Stephanie hustle off. "What's the next bit?" Stephanie asks.<br/>
<br/>
"We go back to the old school and seal it up."<br/>
<br/>
"And then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Then it's up to you."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie breaks into a tigerish smile.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Wow, this is so great, Will," Stephanie says. She is standing beside you, and she pushes her open hand up and down your back as, side by side, you stare down at the mask you have just finished sealing. The name HANNAH ELIZABETH WESTRICK floats over its inner surface. "I really can't thank you enough."<br/>
<br/>
You turn to study her profile. She is staring hungrily down at the mask as she continues to stroke your back.<br/>
<br/>
It's exciting. It's getting you excited all over to have her rub and stroke you that way.<br/>
<br/>
It makes you want to put an arm around her and kiss her.<br/>
<br/>
But she looks like Stephanie. You have to hesitate: Would it hurt Katy's feelings if you made a move on her while she was done up like her friend?</span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122151121111121
author_id: seuzz
title: Katydid, Then Katydidn't
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't know where it comes from, but you are swept over by a hard, thrusting desire to be bold with this girl.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it's the incitement of having her near you, touching you, stroking you. Maybe it's the excitement at sharing this secret and arcane magic with her. Or maybe you're overwhelmed by the temptation to mack on the double of a girl who's always dismissed and belittled you.<br/>
<br/>
Probably it's a mix-up of all three.<br/>
<br/>
You twist around and put your arms around Stephanie, squeezing her artillery-shell breasts between you as you push your face into hers. She just has time to suck in a quick, surprised breath before your lips find hers.<br/>
<br/>
You have no idea what to do next, so you just sort of nibble and bite and suck at them.<br/>
<br/>
For a few seconds she is frozen in your arms, and doesn't respond. Your spirit falters and wobbles. <i>Maybe this was a really bad idea,</i> you think with a tremble.<br/>
<br/>
Then Stephanie grabs hold and nearly crushes the air from you. Her mouth opens wide, to swallow yours.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Let's slow down. Okay, Prescott?" Stephanie mutters after the initial rush has subsided. But still she holds you close, and her breath is hot on your cheek. "Let's—" She swallows noisily. "Let's just go slow. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
You're okay with that. You don't want to force anything. You sure as fuck don't want to embarrass yourself with her.<br/>
<br/>
You relax your hold, but she hangs onto you until you drop your arms. Her eyes—those hard, green gems—dance over your face as she studies you. Then she steps back and, without taking her eyes off you, hops backward onto a big conference table. Her lips part as she holds your eye.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ohmygod,</i> your brain gabbles, <i>this is Stephanie Wyatt except it isn't it's another girl but she likes me but she looks and is acting just like Stephanie this is exactly what it would be like if it was me and Stephanie alone down here and she liked me and she wanted me to come onto her this is exactly like me and Stephanie getting it on!</i><br/>
<br/>
You shuffle forward, and Stephanie spreads her legs to accept you between them. She wraps her arms loosely about your waist and tugs you toward her. Her expression is taut but expectant.<br/>
<br/>
Your chest heaves, and you can't catch your breath as you lean in to nuzzle at the side of her neck. She puts her nose into your hair. You slide a hand up inside the back of her shirt and stroke the smooth, firm skin over her spine. She pants and swallows.<br/>
<br/>
Working in this very slow way you touch and kiss and suck each other all over, feeling inside of each other's clothes without taking them off. Stephanie lets you stroke her breasts through her shirt—they are firm and full—and groans as you gently squeeze them. She wraps her strong legs around your waist and pulls you toward her, and she writhes and squirms, as though seeking to kiss you with her pussy. You wind up in a hard, tight embrace, squeezing all the air from each other until you are dizzy, and spots swarm in front of your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Then she pushes you back. Sweat glistens on her brow and upper lip.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I can go all the way, Will," she pants.<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay," you croak, though your cock is pinched and throbbing. "I don't want to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Stephanie— Stephanie's never done it with a guy before."<br/>
<br/>
<i>What about a girl?</i> you can't help wondering. Aloud you say, "Me neither. I mean, I've never, um—"<br/>
<br/>
Your traitorous brain, though, reminds you of church camp a year or two back, when you got half of a blow job. <i>Well, that was close enough to not count,</i> you sweatily assure yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"It wouldn't be right," Stephanie says.<br/>
<br/>
"I understand."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you like Stephanie?"<br/>
<br/>
Thank God she asked that question! It kills your boner right as you are starting to seriously worry you're going to cream yourself. You draw back so you can look her in the face.<br/>
<br/>
"I like <i>you,</i> Katy," you have the presence of mind to reply.<br/>
<br/>
"But Stephanie—"<br/>
<br/>
"Stephanie's okay," you mumble. "I don't think she likes <i>me,</i> though." You shrug. "So—"<br/>
<br/>
She grabs you by the shoulders, and her eyes glitter as she studies you. You can't help cringing, just a little, for they are the eyes of Stephanie Wyatt.<br/>
<br/>
She grips you tightly as her eyes rove over your face, then she raises her hands to clasp your face between her palms. She flips your ball cap off and brushes her fingers through your hair. Her scrutiny never softens.<br/>
<br/>
Then with a sigh, she sags. Her eyes drop to her lap.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, Will," she says. "Stephanie—" She trails off.<br/>
<br/>
"I know. All the way back to elementary school she—"<br/>
<br/>
She hooks a foot around your hip, and pulls you close. She's got that look on her face again: that hungry, questing, curious look. "<i>I</i> could eat you all up, though," she says, and pushes herself inside your mouth again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That night, as you lie on your bed: <i>What the fuck?</i> you think. <i>Like, what the fuck?</i><br/>
<br/>
She was like that all afternoon, until she finally scampered off in something like a panic. <br/>
<br/>
She was Stephanie, and she was hot for you, she groaned for you, she finally tore off her shirt and unclasped her bra and—panting and swallowing thirstily—she let you suck at the enormous teat of her enormous breast.<br/>
<br/>
She was Stephanie, and she snapped impatiently at you when she'd had enough of the nipple action, pushing you back and showing her teeth as she got dressed again. She paced the basement and snorted and told you it wasn't your fault but it was wrong and it would be wrong even if you were right for Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
She was Katy but with Stephanie's face, and she turned limp and embarrassed and told you not to look at her because she didn't know what she was doing and it wasn't fair to you but it wasn't fair to anybody and she started to sniffle and sob.<br/>
<br/>
And finally she was Stephanie again, and she was mad and she wouldn't look at you and she told you that she had to go because she had a lot of thinking to do. And she stalked off, leaving you feeling like you'd been hauled up at the end of a rope and battered until you were bruised and dizzy.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Those masks are a pretty powerful thing,</i> you reflect. <i>Especially when you put a really overpowering personality inside one.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's getting late and you're thinking of going to bed when you get a text from Katy. You wince when you see it. <i>Shit, why didn't I text her before? Now she probably thinks I'm stupid and selfish.</i><br/>
<br/>
She says: <i>I'm sorry abt this afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
Its ok,</i> you reply, <i>i'm sorry too.</i> Then you add, <i>Do u want to call n talk?<br/>
<br/>
No,</i> she says, <i>getting late.<br/>
<br/>
It was all ok with me,</i> you assure her. <i>It was lot of stress but great w u.<br/>
<br/>
I should of handed it better.</i> After a long pause, during which you agonize over how to reply, she says, <i>I had fun but got stress too lol.<br/>
<br/>
Cu tmrw lunch?</i> <br/>
<br/>
You try not to read too much into what sounds like the very tepid <i>Ok</i> that she sends back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm having lunch with Meghan," Caleb tells you in first period the next day. His tone is very casual, but he is squinting at the front of the classroom instead of looking at you.<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine, I'm having lunch with Katy." You don't elaborate further.<br/>
<br/>
Neither does Caleb. Not until he says, "I wonder who Keith is having lunch with."<br/>
<br/>
He probably means it as a joke. But you don't laugh and neither does he.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe he was obliquely trying to warn you to tell Keith that you and he were going to be busy with girls at lunch, so that he should make plans of his own. But you don't say anything to Keith when you see him next period, so there's an awkward scene outside your English classroom after fourth, when Keith saunters up, looking to hang out with you guys, and you each have to tell him you're taking off with someone else. He turns very red and stomps off. Caleb gives you a reproachful look, but you ignore him to go in search of Katy.<br/>
<br/>
She's hanging out alone by the Agricultural Annex, and her smile is small and pale when she sees you. <br/>
<br/>
"God, it was weird being with Stephanie in class," she says in a very small whisper. "She was mad because I skipped practice yesterday, and then all through class I couldn't  help thinking about—" She shivers.<br/>
<br/>
"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," you reply. Inwardly you wince. It doesn't seem like a very diplomatic thing to have said. And your words leave Katy making a face. So you add, "Anyway, what happened yesterday was because you want to help her out."<br/>
<br/>
But that doesn't explain what you and she did in the basement afterward, and maybe that's what she's thinking of, for she remains grave.<br/>
<br/>
After you've found a quiet, distant place to eat together, Katy says, "I was going to go shopping again today after school. If you want to go along."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. If you want me to."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was going to look for stuff to go with— Hannah." She mouths the name.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh,</i> you think. <i>For the disguise.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Then maybe we could go hang out in the basement again?" Katy suggests. "Only it would be you and ... Hannah?" Again she mouths the name.<br/>
<br/>
When you don't answer immediately, she adds, "She's a slut, you know."<br/>
<br/>
That gets a rise out of you.</span></div></div>


path: 111134414111122131221511211111211
author_id: seuzz
title: Shopping for a New Face
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, I guess you need to pick out clothes if you're going to do something with, um, that mask," you say. You find you can't quite look Katy in the face. "And yeah, sure, we could hang out after."<br/>
<br/>
When you do glance at her, she's got a wet, reproachful expression on her face. "No, really, I want to hang out," you assure her. "And go shopping. Um, there's some stuff I should pick up too."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't look quite convinced of your sincerity. But with a little forced jollity you get her to relax and smile.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have to fetch Hannah's mask from the basement first, because Katy will have to wear it in order to try on clothes. So you arrange to meet her up at Nirdlinger's at around four-thirty. You also text your mom to say that you probably won't be home for dinner, on account of you've got plans with a classmate.<br/>
<br/>
Katy has an armful of items already when you catch up to her at the department store. "I'm going off some of the selfies she's posted," she grumbles. "I hope this one works faster and better than the last one," she adds as you slip her the mask, "so I can figure out some of the things she likes to wear." With it, she disappears into the changing rooms in back, leaving you to restlessly pace the store's women's section.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hannah is a slut.</i> That's what Katy said at lunch, when she suggested hanging out with you this afternoon. <i>I can't do this,</i> she complained yesterday while she was wearing Stephanie's mask. So it sure sounds like she's suggesting that she'd be able to "do" something while wearing Hannah's mask that she couldn't do while wearing Stephanie's. And that thing would be ...<br/>
<br/>
You have to wipe your palms on your trousers, and rub your forearm across your brow. You're not sure that <i>you're</i> ready to do it yet, with Katy or Stephanie or Hannah or any other girl.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, that's not true,</i> you correct yourself. <i>I'd do it with Chelsea Cooper. Or Andrea Varnsworth. Or—</i><br/>
<br/>
You stop up short in mid-stride. <i>Wait, would I really do it with them?</i> you ask yourself. <i>Of course I would,</i> you answer. <i>Only—</i><br/>
<br/>
Only it's impossible to imagine yourself doing it with them. Neither Chelsea—the arrogant, bitchy captain of the cheerleader squad—nor Andrea—the aloof captain of the swim team—have ever so much as looked at you. Nor can you imagine them looking at you, not with interest or lust in their eye.<br/>
<br/>
Unless it wasn't <i>really</i> them. Unless it was really ... Katy?<br/>
<br/>
You sink into a chair, lest the sudden onrush of vertigo capsizes you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>So if </i>Katy<i> came onto me—which it sounds like she's willing to do!—as Chelsea or Andrea ... or Hannah ... what would I say?</i><br/>
<br/>
Would it be chivalrous to say "No"? Or would it be more chivalrous to ... <i>not</i> say "No"?<br/>
<br/>
Well, you were worried about being bored while waiting for Katy to come back, but you've managed to kill most of the wait with these preoccupations, for you jerk and almost jump out of your chair when a big girl with a massive mane of kinky brown hair comes walking out of the back, looking you in the face. She's barefoot, but wearing tight shorts and a white blouse. "What do you think?" she asks. "Be honest."<br/>
<br/>
"Um ..." Your eyes bulge and she turns around to show you her backside.<br/>
<br/>
Hannah is a big girl, but it's size, not fat. Her thighs are very large and her hips very wide, and she has an extremely ample bust. But if her stomach doesn't curve inward—and it's hard to tell inside the floppy blouse whether it does or not—it definitely doesn't bulge. Mostly she just looks like any other girl, only with a lot more "girl" there.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't like it," she flatly declares.<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's not that. Only—"<br/>
<br/>
"I wish I knew if Hannah liked it." After turning all the way back around, she leans in close with a look of disgust on her face. "It's like what happened with the first mask," she murmurs. "I'm not <i>getting</i> anything!"<br/>
<br/>
You swallow. It's a huge turn-on but also really weird having this strange girl, who you've never met, leaning in to talk so intimately to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Just relax," you advise her. "Don't, like, strain yourself." You lick your lips. "Maybe if you try on lots of things, it'll jog some memories."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I can try," she grumbles. She straightens up, and turns around and around for you. "Well, what do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
There's so much there. So much skin, so much body, so much ... <i>girl</i> ... there that you have to fight the urge to grab hold and sink your fingers and teeth into her. "It's nice," you say, and wish you could moisten your eyeballs with your tongue, like a chameleon. It feels like they're bulging.<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm," the girls says. She pulls down on the hem of the shorts. "You <i>look</i> like you're telling the truth."<br/>
<br/>
"I am!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll go try on a few more things. Hey, my face is up here."<br/>
<br/>
You tear your gaze from off her bust. The girl is giving you an amused smirk. "Be right back," she says. And she saunters off, her hips waggling hard.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She shows you three or four different ensembles, combining shorts, jeans, and a skirt with blouses, t-shirts, and sports jerseys. "This is like she wears when she's at parties," she says. Or, "I've seen her at school a couple of times in something like this." Or, "I dunno, I think this would look good on her." You're not paying close attention, though.<br/>
<br/>
It never occurred to you before that it could be so fun watching a girl parade clothes in front of you. <i>Clothes are just clothes,</i> had been your attitude before. And though you love watching girls at school—mostly out of the corner of your eye—the weren't <i>parading</i> in front of you, showing themselves off to you.<br/>
<br/>
But to have a girl put on a show <i>for</i> you and just for you? That's awesome.<br/>
<br/>
And it looks like Katy is having fun too. Maybe with the first outfit she was legit trying on clothes as part of a "disguise." But for the rest of them, it's like she's playing it all up for you. She puts a lot of swing in her hips, and she blinks and winks coquettishly at you over her shoulder. Before long, she's practically <i>prancing</i> around in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
But all too soon it ends. In mid-twirl, while showing off some sports duds, she does a double-take over your shoulder, turns very pale, and quickly dashes back into the changing rooms. You sit up sharply and stare dumbly after her.<br/>
<br/>
A trio of girls then come thundering up out of nowhere. One of them, a girl with long brunette hair, turns on you with a puzzled glare. "Hey, was that Hannah just here?" she asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... Who?" Your heart thumps in your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Hannah. She just ran out of here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um ... Don't think so," you stammer. You sit up and tense.<br/>
<br/>
The girls mutter and murmur at each other and go back to scanning the store. Another one glances at you, but the one who spoke says something under her breath that sounds like, "Some dumbass." Eventually they drift off.<br/>
<br/>
You slip out your phone and text Katy to warn her some girls are looking for "Hannah." You get no reply until nearly a quarter of an hour later, when Katy herself comes staggering out of the back. She is very pale and looks around nervously, though those girls have long since gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's get out of here," she says, and snuggles up close with her arm in yours. "Those were some friends of Hannah's," she says, like you couldn't have guessed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Katy confesses she doesn't know who the girls were exactly, but she recognized them as being on the Eastman High School girls' soccer squad. Hannah was at Eastman until this year, when she transferred.<br/>
<br/>
"God, I didn't realize what a risk we were taking!" she moans. "And I didn't get any clothes and I didn't even figure anything out about her!" The near-catastrophe at the department store has killed her enthusiasm, at least temporarily, for the plan, and she demurs when you suggest hanging out at the elementary school, where no one is likely to see her or "Hannah." "I'll try putting on the mask tonight," she says, "see if that works out like it did the first time." Then you part for the evening.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure what to make of the day. It all seems so unreal when you're back home, eating dinner and doing homework. Even Katy herself seems unreal. Like, how much time have you spent with <i>her</i> rather than with ... "Stephanie"? Or with ... "Hannah"? And your time with those ... impersonations ... also feels unreal, like something that happened in a dream.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Maybe I shouldn't have shown this stuff to her,</i> you find yourself thinking, <i>not if I really wanted to, like, get to know her and hang out with her.</i> If she's going to keep being "other girls," it's going to be harder to get to know the real her.<br/>
<br/>
Which sparks the ugly thought: <i>Is Katy someone I really want to know?</i><br/>
<br/>
You shake your head to clear it. <i>You don't want Katy thinking you're only into these other girls, like Stephanie and Hannah,</i> you chide yourself. <i>Right?</i><br/>
<br/>
Considering that you've never really liked Stephanie, and you don't know Hannah at all, it seems like a question with an easy answer. <i>Try to keep her out of the masks so you can get to know her!</i><br/>
<br/>
But then another thought occurs to you, as you're getting ready for bed.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe if you got a mask of one of Katy's friends, that would be a short-cut to getting to know her.</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312215112111112113
author_id: seuzz
title: Big Man, Big Mouth
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wrestle hard with the question of what to say to Katy, and finally end up deciding (more or less) not to say anything at all. <i>Whatever she wants to do,</i> you tell yourself, <i>is fine with me.</i><br/>
<br/>
And if that involves her putting on a couple of different masks of a couple of different girls and making out with you?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, that's just a cross I'm going to have to bear,</i> you tell yourself with gritted teeth as you fight down a raging hard-on.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Katy is waiting for you the next morning in the student parking lot. She's not alone: Her friend Meghan is with her. She smiles brightly at you, her white smile splitting her dark face. "Hey Will," she calls as you approach. "You got plans this weekend?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance at Katy. "Er—"<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow night, I mean. Party at Megan's house. Caleb's picking me up at eight. You and Katy—" She nudges her friend. "We could pick you guys up too."<br/>
<br/>
"Um ... Sure?" You twitch your eyebrows at Katy.<br/>
<br/>
"Gonna be fun," Meghan says. She looks past your shoulder. "Lots of fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." You try beaming a telepathic message to Katy through the wrinkles that furrow your brow: <i>Can we go off just us?</i><br/>
<br/>
But Katy only fumbles for your hand. "We're waiting for Caleb now," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, he's usually late," you inform the girls. But Meghan only replies with a careless shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone's been waiting, like, so long for this party to finally happen," Katy says. There's a nervous flutter inside her gushing tone. "Meghan's, like, going all out for it."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? What's the plan?" you ask her friend.<br/>
<br/>
Meghan gives you a puzzled glance. Katy shifts on her feet. Then she says, in a very soft voice. "Megan Farris. The party's at Megan Farris's house."<br/>
<br/>
The penny finally drops. "Oh! I guess I was kind of confused."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I could tell," Meghan drawls. Then she laughs. "You and Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"Me and Caleb what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing." She twinkles at you. "You're both so funny is all."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is she laughing at me?</i> you can't help wondering.<br/>
<br/>
Katy lunges in with some desperate small-talk about the party. It helps you to place who she's talking about. Megan Farris is some brown-haired girl you've seen around. Nothing very pretty but nothing very exciting either, that you can recall. But this party is a pretty big thing, apparently. Katy tells you it'll be something to rival some of the parties thrown by Chelsea Cooper or Reagan Hackett (whoever that is). <br/>
<br/>
The conversation, thankfully, leaves you behind as Katy and Meghan start talking about other parties they've been too, and comparing their merits. But then a big blonde guy comes swaggering up. He's in shorts and a tight gray t-shirt, and his whitish-blonde buzz cut and five-day beard bristle with aggression.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, great of you to wait out here for me," he chortles as he pushes in close to Meghan. He puts a brawny arm out to embrace her.<br/>
<br/>
"Get off, Dylan," Meghan snarls, giving you a name you were trying not to remember. She tries shoving him back. "Aren't you late for practice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm already in trouble." Dylan Lloyd, basketball player, snickers. "But if you go in with me," he says, and tries cozying up to Meghan again, "and tell coach I'm late because—"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck! Off!" Meghan snarls at him again.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, why don't you fuck off, man," someone else says, and you almost shit yourself when you realize it was you. Your heart pounds in your chest. "She already told you—" you start to mumble, and then your voice dies away entirely in your throat as Dylan Lloyd turns a bright stare in your direction.<br/>
<br/>
He's not enormous, like some of the guys on the basketball squad. He's not much taller than you, not like Gordon Black or Steve Patterson, the terrifying alpha jocks who run the squad. He's not bulging with muscles, either, like Ryan Shuler or Jonas Martin. But he's big enough and strong enough and hairy enough on his own. And when he grins at you, it's the grin of a carnivore that's just caught the scent of fresh prey.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you wanna show me how to fuck off?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
You feel Katy squeeze your hand hard, and out of the corner of your eye you are sure you see Meghan giving you a warning glance.<br/>
<br/>
But you're already over the precipice, hanging in mid-air. It won't go any worse for you if you push ahead.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, maybe I should," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Right now?" The grin on his face widens.<br/>
<br/>
"You're late for practice, Dylan," Meghan hisses.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and I need someone to walk me there. You volunteering?" he asks you. The gleam in his eye is hard and bright. "Sweetheart?"<br/>
<br/>
Your sphincter loosens even as your backpack slides off your shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
Before you unlock your feet from the ground, though, a hard voice tears across the parking lot. "Ay! Lloyd!" It's followed by a piercing whistle.<br/>
<br/>
Dylan Lloyd glances past you toward the gym. Then he gives you another chilling smile. "I got practice after school too," he says. "But meet me here after it's done."<br/>
<br/>
Then he pinches you on the chin. For a horrifying moment, you think he's going to lean in follow it up with a peck to your lips. Instead, with a chuckle, he saunters off.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes are watering after he's gone, and the air is swarming with blurry dots. So you can hardly make out Meghan's expression when you finally glance in her direction. Even her voice is blurry, as it has to fight its way past the roaring in your ears.<br/>
<br/>
"You just keep Caleb out of your thing with Dylan, okay?" she says. And it sounds like she'll join Dylan in kicking your ass if you don't.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You promise Meghan you won't say anything to Caleb, and in fact you don't say anything to anyone at all about it.<br/>
<br/>
But word gets out anyway.<br/>
<br/>
The first clue comes in fourth-period English, when you can't help noticing the way Brendan Tummler and Scott Frazier—two teammates of Dylan—keep glancing in your direction. But confirmation comes after lunch as you're on your way to math. "Will!" a hearty voice shouts. You glance through the crowd, to find Marc Garner—brother of Jessica and Eva—grinning at you from the doorway to Mr. Muniz's room. He's the captain of the soccer team, and he's got some of his friends from the squad clustered around him.<br/>
<br/>
"Heard you and Dylan Lloyd are having a rumble after class!" Marc calls. He gives you a bright thumbs-up. "Kick his ass!" His friends look a little puzzled, and give you querying looks. You just duck into your own math class.<br/>
<br/>
But a sharp finger pokes you in the shoulder blade before you can find your seat, and Carson Ioeger peers down at you when you turn around. He's a science nerd—tall and gangly—and one of few people at Westside that you'd call a friend, though you don't hang out all that much except sometimes at lunch. Even in Calculus, which you share, he sits a few rows over, serenely uninterested in you as a person.<br/>
<br/>
But today—<br/>
<br/>
"What was Garner bellowing at you about?" he honks. "He catch you molesting one of his sisters?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Molesting both of them, simultaneously?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you!" With a snort you fall into your seat.<br/>
<br/>
"No," he insists. "I'm interested. It sounded like he was saying something about you kicking someone's ass." Like a stork settling into a nest, Carson levers himself into the desk in front of yours. "You don't kick people's asses, Prescott. You're not built for it."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes and hold your tongue.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you in some kind of trouble?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't believe you, but go ahead and play it close. If you'll give me a hint, though—"<br/>
<br/>
"Go away."<br/>
<br/>
"—maybe I could give you some pointers."<br/>
<br/>
You snort. "Pointers from you about a fight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, so it is a fight. Who with? You and—" He pales. "Don't tell me it's Tilley!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not Tilley!"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you could take Tilley. But there wouldn't be no glory in that."<br/>
<br/>
You can't help flushing a little with pleasure at Carson's estimation that you could take your friend Keith in a fight. "Nothing's going to happen," you tell him. "It was just some smack talk. You know."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." Carson looks over your head at the wall behind. "Yeah, okay, that makes sense. That's a relief, actually." He fixes you with a look. "You're dumb, Prescott," he says, "but I never had you pegged for stupid."<br/>
<br/>
You give him a dirty look as he gets up again.<br/>
<br/>
But then, as he passes, he pats you on the shoulder. "Still, if I was you," he says, "I'd get away from school before Lloyd gets out of practice this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>You're </i>not<i> staying after school to have a fight with Dylan,</i> Katy had told you in no uncertain words when you ate lunch with her. <i>I don't want to have to use one of those mask things to fix your face!</i><br/>
<br/>
But then last period comes—Astronomy—and not only do you notice Scott Frazier coolly eyeing you, you also have to face Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
Not that she has anything to say about the promised fight. She only asks, in a very friendly tone, if you're going to "Megan's party" tomorrow. You jerk your head in a nod, and turn around in your seat.<br/>
<br/>
Does she know about Lloyd's challenge to you? She's bound to find out after the fact, if she hasn't heard about it yet. And what will she think of you if she finds out you ducked out on it?<br/>
<br/>
<i>I shouldn't care what Stephanie thinks,</i> you tell yourself. <i>Only what Katy thinks. And she doesn't want to have to 'fix my face'.</i><br/>
<br/>
But, thinking about masks ... Of course one thought will lead to another. Maybe you can't punch Dylan out, but you do have one more blank mask back at the school. If you could somehow contrive to get it close to his face ... Well, that would at least be a way of knocking him out.</span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122151121111121132
author_id: seuzz
title: Lonely Are the Brave
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Katy told you that she wanted to hang out with you at the basement after school, and you dutifully trudge out to meet her in the parking lot after classes let out. You do your best to ignore the crowd that mills about you, though you are convinced that they are all buzzing about you, and snickering at the way you're scurrying off like a scared rabbit from your appointment with Dylan Lloyd.<br/>
<br/>
<i>But I'm not running away,</i> you tell yourself through gritted teeth.<br/>
<br/>
Katy gives you a very close, very worried look when you find her at her car. "Are we still meeting up at the old school?" she asks. You nod. She gives you a long, grave look.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be out there!" you shout at her. "I promise. I gotta stop off at my house first, but I'll still probably beat you out there!"<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't say anything, though, and continues to look anxious and a little frightened as she gets into her car. You shut the door on her, and watch as she buckles herself in. Then you stumble off toward your own truck. But Katy doesn't pull out of her space until you've pulled out of yours, and she tails you all the way back to Acheson, and gets off your rear bumper only after you've parked in the driveway at your house.<br/>
<br/>
You do go inside, to drop off your book bag and to nod at your mom—"Meatloaf for supper," she tells you—and to ask if she has any errands she needs you to run. She looks at you like you're a psycho killer who's broken into her house, then tells you that she doesn't. "Well, I have to go do a little stuff in town anyway," you tell her, "so I thought I'd ask." You promise you'll be back by five.<br/>
<br/>
Lloyd will probably only knock you onto your ass, so you don't warn her that she might need to break out the gauze and bandages for when you come back home.<br/>
<br/>
In the driveway you then text Katy: <i>Got cught by my mom have to run errand dont wait for me.</i> You then peel out into the street and shoot your way back to the school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The parking lot is still emptying when you get back, but you're able to park close to the gym  at least. <i>Like I </i>want<i> to not be late for this thing,</i> you chide yourself as, with a sick feeling in your stomach you trudge through the breezeway to the front doors of the gym.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't go inside. Instead, you loiter out front, on the grassy quad framed by the gym, the drama wing, and the school proper.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It's just like going to the dentist,</i> you try telling yourself as you slowly pace the ground. <i>You don't want to go, and it won't be fun, but then it'll be over and that will be all.<br/>
<br/>
And just like going to the dentist, you're going to lose some teeth,</i> you can't help replying to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shut up,</i> you tell yourself. <i>He's not going to knock out any teeth. So </i>that's<i> one way it's not like going to dentist.<br/>
<br/>
Right. And the dentist doesn't follow you around school afterward, jeering about how he could have taken out more of your teeth but he decided to go easy on you,</i> the traitorous voice inside your head retort.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That's not going to happen either,</i> you try telling yourself, but you are far from certain. In fact, the longer you pace, the more certain you become that you are setting yourself up for some real trouble. By putting yourself in Dylan Lloyd's sights, you've put yourself in the line of fire of the entire basketball squad. And the other assholes—like Lester "The Molester" Pozniak—are bound to gleefully follow Lloyd's lead by mercilessly hazing you. Hell, even the ones like Roy Nelson, who bothered you all during your freshman and sophomore years but then seemed to forget about you, are likely to try renewing their bullying "friendship" with you after it gets around that you—<i>snerk!</i>—challenged Dylan Lloyd to a fistfight.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Okay, but was it a "fistfight"?</i> you tell yourself. <i>I just told him that I'd— You know—<br/>
<br/>
What?</i> the other you sneers. <i>Have a polite conversation about how it's not nice to hit on girls after they've told you to "fuck off"?</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, it's bad enough having the conversation with yourself. But even worse is that it actually manages to kill the time while you wait, so that you leap like a startled fawn when the doors to the gym bang open and a knot of basketball players—freshly showered and glowing with health—comes swaggering out in their jerseys and workout pants. They laugh and ignore you as they wheel their way toward the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
Dylan Lloyd isn't one of them.<br/>
<br/>
You plant yourself, with feet wide apart, on the grass directly in front of the gym doors, where Lloyd will be sure to spot you when he comes out. <i>What the hell am I doing?</i> you ask yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Half the team have come out and gone, without paying the slightest attention to you, you've noticed, before he finally swaggers out. He's got two friends with him.<br/>
<br/>
One of them—the guy in the center—is Shawn Saxe, one of the small number of black guys at school. He's dressed like a gangbanger in bright, newly laundered track pants and a jacket, with a bandana tied tightly over the dome of his head and a pair of black Ray-Bans. He veers toward the parking lot without even glancing in your direction. The other guy is Scott Frazier, who shares several classes with you. Like Dylan, he is pale and blonde with a heavy beard that looks several days old. He gives you a quick glance that turns into a double-take.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's Dylan Lloyd himself. A grinning, loudmouthed asshole, swaggering and chortling about some joke or other left over from practice. Like Shawn Saxe, he doesn't notice you, and swings off toward the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
But he's only gone a few strides before he stops and turns to squint at you. Frazier said something to him, and he and Shawn stop and turn to study you also.<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing. You just stand and stare at them. <i>Let him go first,</i> you tell yourself, and try to pretend that that will make you seem cool instead of what you really are: nearly shitting yourself with fear.<br/>
<br/>
Lloyd stares back at you, in seeming disbelief. Then he shoots a puckish look at his two friends, and nudges Shawn. There are some muttered words, and Shawn and Scott, with a couple of backward glances, shuffle off toward the parking lot. Lloyd stares at you with an amused smirk, then stalks over.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, man, look at you," he chortles. He pulls up to a stop and grins at you with gleaming malice. You return his stare with a hard glare of your own, until the smile slowly fades from Lloyd's face. He finally sighs and drops his workout bag from his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, let's get this over with," he says. His expression turns pinched. "Just roll with it, man," he says as he grabs you by the shoulder, "and it won't hurt so much." He pulls a fist back.<br/>
<br/>
What comes next is very fast. You try shrugging his hand off your shoulder, and draw back a fist of your own. But he hurls his own fist past yours and plows it into your solar plexus. All the air explodes out of you, and your abdominal muscles try hiding themselves behind your bladder. You bend double and grab yourself by the middle, hugging yourself. Dylan pushes your head toward your knees and pounds you twice in the kidneys. You collapse to the grass.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll be fine," someone says, and you're slapped hard on the back by a meaty palm. "Next time try tucking yourself around it instead of leaning into it with your bellybutton." You're given another meaty pat on the back as you vomit up a huge wad of sticky spit. "Catch you around, man."<br/>
<br/>
You curl into a ball and press your forehead into the grass. <i>Don't look at me,</i> you pray when you hear the gym door open again. Laughing voices pass you by. <i>Go away and don't see me,</i> you silently beg every time you hear footfalls.<br/>
<br/>
And none of them stop and no one asks if you're alright.<br/>
<br/>
Until you hear Stephanie Wyatt's voice. "Okay, I think you can get up now, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She'd been watching all this time from the corner of the school, she tells you as she helps you out to the parking lot. She watched you as you paced and waited for Lloyd, and she watched as he came out, and she watched after he folded you up with three quick blows, and she watched until she sensed that everyone else had gone. That's when she came out to check on you.<br/>
<br/>
As for why she was watching you—<br/>
<br/>
Yes, she had heard what was up, and she wanted to make sure you didn't come to any harm. She wasn't going to get in the way, though. "You're a dumbass, Prescott," she says, "but I guess you had to go through with it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, fuck you too,</i> you think. <i>I guess you'd be happier if I got my ass kicked even harder.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Don't tell Katy about it, though, okay?" you murmur after Stephanie has helped you to your truck.<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"She'll be mad."<br/>
<br/>
"She'll be mad because you lied to her about going to run errands for your mom."<br/>
<br/>
It takes a moment for her words to register. When they do, you give her a sharp look Her stare is hard but not angry.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll make you a deal, Prescott," she says. "I won't tell Katy you were dumbass after school if you do a favor for me." She swings her pack off her shoulder and rummages inside it until she pulls a mask out.<br/>
<br/>
It's the mask that Katy went back to the school to get.<br/>
<br/>
"I want to use this thing on Marc Garner," she says. "That way we can get Hannah in trouble with him, and get him in trouble with her."</span></div></div>


path: 111134414111122131221511211111211322
author_id: seuzz
title: Two Girls, One Plan
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Katy—because of course it's Katy, wearing that stupid mask of Stephanie—insists on helping you up into your truck, even though you try brushing her off. She climbs into the passenger side and gives you the kind of long, steady, appraising stare like the real Stephanie would give you. You glare back.<br/>
<br/>
Not that it makes a difference.<br/>
<br/>
"Marc Garner," she says, and taps the blank mask she's laid on the seat between you. "I want us to try getting a copy of Marc in here. So we can fuck Hannah up from both ends."<br/>
<br/>
You suck in your upper lip and say nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"You know Marc?" she asks. "I see you sometimes hanging out with his sisters."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
She rubs her nose with her open palm, just the way Stephanie would. "I guess I could do it myself," she says. "Only I don't want to get Stephanie involved."<br/>
<br/>
"You could use the Hannah mask," you mumble. "Or, I dunno, maybe your own face?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. Faintly contemptuous and impatient. But then she wavers and breaks eye contact.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I guess. Only I don't want— Well—" She starts to stammer. "I don't want to get in the middle of it myself."<br/>
<br/>
"So use Stephanie's face. That's what you did with Hannah."<br/>
<br/>
"Stephanie and Hannah already don't like each other. There's nothing between Stephanie and Marc. I mean, there's no bad blood or anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Pshh. There's no bad blood between me and Marc, either. Oh, fine," you groan. You're too miserable to feel like turning it into a fight. "You'll have to set it up some way. I can't just call up Marc. I don't know him <i>that</i> well." At all well, really.<br/>
<br/>
You look over to find Katy—with Stephanie's face—giving you an exasperated glare. Then she snorts and shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, thanks," she says, and claps your knee. "And don't worry, it'll work out. I can smooth things out for you after. If, you know—" She runs a tongue over her lower lip. "You kind of fuck things up."<br/>
<br/>
Almost you come unglued at that.<br/>
<br/>
But she's already in motion, shoving the truck door open and hopping out.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, um," she says, leaning in through the open door. "I'd love to get together with you at the school again now. But it's getting kind of late, and there are some things I have to do. Including setting up the thing with Marc. So, see you tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, sure. It's a school day, of course I'll see you.</i> You nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome. And, uh, thanks for— Well, for everything." She shrugs, and slams the door shut.<br/>
<br/>
You slump behind the wheel with your arms folded. But before you can sink too deep into a mud hole of anger and resentment, you're startled by a knock at your window. It's "Stephanie" again. When you just stare at her, she motions you to roll down the window.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," she says once the window is down, "it was sweet what you did with Dylan. But it wasn't <i>me</i>, you know, he was hassling, it was Meghan, and she can take care of herself. You don't need to show off for me, Will. And, like, don't go showing off with other girls, okay? Oh, and," she adds as she backs up a step, "don't worry about anything like what might come next. It was just a thing that happened. It's all forgotten about already, I promise you."<br/>
<br/>
She chucks her chin at you, then strides off.<br/>
<br/>
You wind up nursing a bad headache.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div> <br/>
You're a lot more sore for a lot longer that you would have expected, and even the next morning there's a pit of pain deep inside your stomach. But maybe it's just stress—or a sickness borne of shame—and not a bruise, because you wince and cringe every time you think of the "fight" with Dylan. <i>I didn't even get a blow in. And I just let him fold me up. It's like he was even trying to be </i>nice<i> about it.</i> It takes you ten minutes to brush your teeth, because you keep dropping the brush and glaring at yourself shamefacedly in the bathroom mirror.<br/>
<br/>
You get to school before Katy does, and wait for her at the entrance of the breezeway that connects the student parking lot to the school. She's late showing up, so that you get to nod absentmindedly at some of her friends as they pass you. Katy, when she shows up, is a little less bumptious than she has been, and you can't help noticing that she won't look you in the face.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, so, um, there's Megan's party tonight," she says. "I told, um, our Meghan that we'd would double with her and Caleb going out to it. Is that okay?" You reply that you already thought that was happening. "Yeah, well, um, I guess Caleb is going to pick us all up and gives us all a ride. But that won't be until, like, eight. Um." She bites her lip and gives you a small look from under her brows. "I set up a meeting with Marc before that. So we could, um—" Her eyebrows go up in a query.<br/>
<br/>
"Great," you say, forcing yourself to sound pleased. You're still mad at Katy on account of yesterday, but you don't want to have a fight with her. "So what's the plan?"<br/>
<br/>
She sags with visible relief. "Four o'clock," she says. "Over at Potsdam Park. Um, the thing we did with Hannah? At Panera? Yeah, there's been some, uh, like— Well, I said I wanted to talk to him about it, so I'm supposed to meet him there. You know the gazebo there? You can just, like, be waiting for us there? You should be early. I'll be early too. We can talk then about how we're going to, um—"<br/>
<br/>
You have the feeling that you should hug her, to calm her down before she comes apart on you. But you're still too ticked off. So you just nod and say it's cool and that you'll drive right out there after school. She reminds you that you'll have to stop off at the school to get the stuff. You say you'll do that.<br/>
<br/>
And then at lunch she says she's changed her mind, and she'll go out to the school herself to collect the things. She asks you for the key to the basement and you give it to her. Though you'd have to admit to a feeling of foreboding when you do. Katy is giving you the impression that she has some things going on that she's not telling you about.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She was right about one thing, at least. You don't hear from anybody—from <i>anybody</i>—about the "fight" you had yesterday with Dylan Lloyd. The basketball players in your classes? Totally ignore you. Caleb and Carson and other of your friends? Not a word. The Molester or any of the other assholes who sometimes pull you aside? Nothing. On the one hand, it's mostly a relief. But you can't help feeling a little miffed as well. <i>Am I really that much of a pissant?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
Keith seems to be mad at you, though. In second period he makes a big deal of the fact that he'll be going to a party that Maggie Crenshaw will be throwing. "I thought it was Megan Farris," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Pshh," he sneers. "Megan Farris, who's she? You wanna know who Maggie Crenshaw is?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's the captain of the girls' softball team, isn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith blinks at you. "Yeah. That's how come, you know." He twirls his finger in the air—he's always making meaningless gestures like that. "You'll wanna be hitting Maggie's party, not Megan's."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to Megan's anyway. I got a date and that's whose party she wants to go to."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." Keith's jaw stiffens, and he stares past you. "Gonna be lame," he assures you. "Already know for a fact the <i>cheerleaders</i> are going to Maggie's. The <i>cheerleaders,</i>," he hoarsely repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome. Maybe you'll score with one of them."<br/>
<br/>
He visibly starts. Then he plays it cool, rolling his shoulders. "Sure. Anything could happen."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Then like maybe you'll get hit by a meteor,</i> you think as you turn back around in your desk. <i>It's just as likely.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
School lets out, and there's a general rush for the parking lot, for it's Friday. You loiter with Caleb awhile at his locker, coordinating plans for the evening. Both of you are playing it cool about the fact that you're going to a party with a couple of dates. There's a little escalation at the end, though, when you start speculating about how each of you is to get home if, you know, things go really well at the party with Meghan and/or Katy. <i>Like, if I can't get away, you think you can get a ride home with someone else?</i><br/>
<br/>
Then you walk out to the parking lot together to drive off separately.<br/>
<br/>
You stop at home long enough to drop your stuff off, then go over to the school to see if you can catch Katy there. After a ten minute wait, you text her, and find out that she's already been by and gone ... and why (she wants to know) aren't you on your way to Potsdam Park already?<br/>
<br/>
<i>She's just nervous,</i> you tell yourself.<br/>
<br/>
She's already there when you arrive. She's not hard to miss either. The park is a narrow strip of grass, not much wider than the length of a football field, running along the side of the river. Katy is pacing the floor of the decorative gazebo that crowns its center.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to talk to Marc when he comes," she tells you with a fluttering nervousness. "You be off, I dunno, that way." She flaps her hand in the direction of the river. "But come right on over when you see us. I'll excuse myself, go back to my car. Here." She thrusts a blank mask at you. "Just get it onto him and off him. Then skedaddle."</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312215112111112113222
author_id: seuzz
title: Grifting the Marc
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You've got a bad feeling about this (to coin a phrase). It feels like Katy is improvising a plan right in front of you, and you have no idea whether to trust that she's going to do it right—even if it turns out to be a good plan.<br/>
<br/>
"Katy," you start to say.<br/>
<br/>
She squeezes you by the arm.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, please," she begs. "Marc's gonna be here any minute, and I don't want him seeing us together, like we set this thing up between the two of us. You know?"<br/>
<br/>
You give in with a gulp. Katy follows you to the edge of the gazebo, then watches as you trudge off down toward the river, mask in hand. You walk a good ways off, so that it will definitely look like you're not "with" her at the gazebo when Marc arrives. When you look back, Katy has her back to you and is staring off toward the street.<br/>
<br/>
There's a "river walk" at Potsdam Park: a wide sidewalk that runs parallel to the river bank with a railing to keep anyone from accidentally tumbling into the hissing water below. You lean against this railing and fidget with the mask. This whole situation—using masks to copy people you barely know so as to fuck up their lives—wasn't what you had in mind when you decided to show the stuff to Katy. But then, it's not like you had any firm ideas yourself about what to do with them. The surprise is that Katy <i>does</i> have ideas.<br/>
<br/>
Except you also get the feeling they're not Katy's own ideas. Whatever animus she feels toward Hannah Westrick, it seems like she feels it on behalf of someone else.<br/>
<br/>
On behalf of Stephanie Wyatt. You have to wonder what is going on there.<br/>
<br/>
One thought will lead to another. You could find out the deal with Stephane (you reflect) by getting into her mask, and that thought ricochets off another: the mask you make of Marc won't have his memories or anything, because you didn't make one of those metal strips to go with it.<br/>
<br/>
That leads to a further surprise: You casually turn the mask over to find that there <i>is</i> a metal strip glued inside it. With runes and everything carved into it. When did you make it?<br/>
<br/>
Or didn't you make it? Did <i>Katy</i> make it? Like, last night? Outside of your supervision?<br/>
<br/>
You gulp, and now you are pretty sure you don't want to go through with this plan of hers.<br/>
<br/>
But even as you turn to walk back to the gazebo, you glimpse Marc Garner—looking very fit in a floppy pair of workout shorts and a long-sleeve pullover—as he comes bounding out of the parking lot and toward the gazebo.<br/>
<br/>
You glance around, thinking that maybe you can sneak off and text Katy that you've changed your mind about helping with the plan.<br/>
<br/>
Then you think: <i>What's the worst that can happen?</i> The mask will copy him. The rest, even if it doesn't work, will only ... not work.<br/>
<br/>
You run a dry tongue over a dry lip, and resume your slow, heavy trudge toward the gazebo.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Marc is lounging on one of the low benches that circle the interior of the gazebo, with his arms folded across his chest and his long, strong legs (crossed at the ankles) stretched out in front of him. Katy is perched like a bird on the bench beside him, and he is listening to her with a puzzled but friendly look. He doesn't even seem to notice you until you step onto the gazebo proper. Then he does a slight double-take and lifts his eyebrows at you in a very casual greeting. "Ay. Will," he says with an open-mouthed smile.<br/>
<br/>
Katy looks sharply between you and him, the squawks.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God, Will!" she stiffly exclaims. "I didn't know you were coming out here!" She glances around, her head twisting about mechanically like it's on a motor. "Oh, I forgot, there's something I need to get out of my car!" She scampers past you without a word.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Christ,</i> you think as you watch her go. <i>This is going to be a disaster.</i><br/>
<br/>
But Marc doesn't seem to have noticed anything odd about her behavior. He remains lounging, propping his shoulder blades against the wooden railing of the gazebo as he stretches almost parallel to the ground. "So what's up?" he asks you. "Goin' to Megan's party tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's the plan," you stammer. "Going with—"<br/>
<br/>
You are suddenly aware of the mask that you're gripping in front of you. It seems to burn your fingers and palms.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Jesus,</i> you think. Then: <i>Oh, fuck it. Here goes.</i><br/>
<br/>
Marc doesn't react as you step forward and lean into his personal space. His eyes drop to the mask as you lift it, but not until you're practically atop him does he start to stiffen and sit up with a look of alarm. But he doesn't even manage to unfold his arms before you've pushed the mask into his face. And then his arms tumble limply to his side, and his head lolls. His jaw falls open and his eyes stare blankly into a distant corner of the park.<br/>
<br/>
You glance around. You have the park to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you nervously tidy things up. You fold Marc's nerveless arms across his chest, and reposition his head so that he is staring blankly up at the roof above. Then you push his eyelids closed. You step back to study your work. You decide he presents a reasonable facsimile of a guy who has fallen asleep on a park bench.<br/>
<br/>
Which in a sense is exactly what he has done. Only with your help.<br/>
<br/>
In the silence that follows, you have time to study him. You might as well, for you have a strong hunch that someone is going to be impersonating him as part of Katy's plan, and that it will be <i>you</i> doing the impersonating. Marc Garner is a solidly built guy, with a soccer player's strongly muscled legs and an open and friendly countenance of handsome features. He is still brown from the summer, though the tan is fading to mottled pinks and reds. His dark blonde hair is chopped short into spikes, which he has gelled to stand up. If you look closely you can see the resemblance between him and his sisters Eva and Jessica. But it's not a close one—not with the masculine cast of his face—and if didn't know he was one of a set of triplets, you never would guess.<br/>
<br/>
He's going to be out for awhile, so you look around for Katy, and when you don't see her you trudge back to her car. When you go to tap on the window— Well, that's when you first confirm that her plan is going to be a <i>lot</i> more complicated than she let on with you originally.<br/>
<br/>
But it's not Katy behind the wheel. It's an unconscious Stephanie Wyatt.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Marc's not going anywhere," you tell "Stephanie" through gritted teeth. "It'll be another ten minutes at least before he wakes up."<br/>
<br/>
"Just go make sure, okay?" she snaps. She is hustling herself into a new set of clothes—a "Stephanie Wyatt" set of clothes—and in her hurry wasn't the least bit shy about letting you see her enormous bare tits as she switched brassieres. "Get the mask and get out of here. You don't want to be around when he wakes up."<br/>
<br/>
"I want to <i>talk</i> to you, Katy!"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll talk afterwards. Move it, Prescott!"<br/>
<br/>
But you know it's Katy, not the real Stephanie. So even though you do "move it," you give her a very sour look as you back off.<br/>
<br/>
It's a look that's about as effective as flicking a booger at a brick wall.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!"<br/>
<br/>
You turn at the shout, and return when she gestures you back. "Here, I forgot," she says, thrusting an armful of bright clothes at you. "Some of Marc's clothes to go with the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! How did you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I stopped by his place before I came over here. Okay, get going. After you get the mask off him, go back to the school or someplace. I'll text you later."<br/>
<br/>
She starts peeling off the too-tiny shorts that she wore as Katy Conlee, then gives you a very hard look as Stephanie Wyatt when you linger to watch.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You leave Marc asleep in the gazebo, taking the newly made mask with you back to the old elementary school. Downstairs in the basement, you examine it. MARC DAVID GARNER, reads the name that floats just over the inner surface. So it looks like Katy must have made the thing properly. You seal it up.<br/>
<br/>
You don't put it on, though. Instead you turn to the clothes that Katy hustled at you. A pair of fresh, pressed Levis. A gold-and-crimson soccer jersey. White ankle socks. Heavy rubber sandals. Plaid boxers. A short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt.<br/>
<br/>
You glance between them and the mask. <i>I put on that, I put on these ... and I'm Marc Garner.</i> You tug your ear. <i>Gotta be some advantages in that.</i> <br/>
<br/>
But it's Katy looking to collect most of the advantages, you're pretty sure. <i>I'm going to have a good, long talk with her when she gets out here,</i> you tell yourself. <i>I'm not putting anything on until she explains everything to me. And I mean everything!</i><br/>
<br/>
Except ... Your eye reverts to the pile of clothes and the mask.<br/>
<br/>
She'll probably be showing up as Stephanie when she arrives. That gives her the advantage. Maybe you could even up the odds in the conversation that follows if you went ahead and put on the mask, and met her as Marc.</span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122151121111121132222
author_id: seuzz
title: Of Stephanie and Sabotage
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>A couple of times, as you wait for Katy, your hand will snake over to the mask of Marc Garner, which rests atop the pile of clothes near at hand. And each time you draw it back as though stung.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I would have a better chance of standing up to Katy,</i> you tell yourself, <i>if I was dressed up in those things.</i> But it's a thought that puts your back up. <i>How come I have to turn myself into another guy just to have a heart-to-heart with my girlfriend about whatever she's up to?</i><br/>
<br/>
Pride finally wins out, and it's with a defiant look on your own face that you turn when the basement door opens and Katy comes in.<br/>
<br/>
But it's not Katy. She's still dressed up like Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you still dressed up like that for?" she peevishly demands when she's advanced far enough through the gloom to make out that you're still yourself and not Marc. "I thought I told you—"<br/>
<br/>
"You haven't told me anything, Katy," you rebuke her. "And I'm not doing anything until you do."<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you, then rolls her eyes. "Fine," she sighs. "It'll be eight before we can head over to Megan's anyways. Well, before <i>you</i> head over to—"<br/>
<br/>
"You've got some scheme going. What is it?"<br/>
<br/>
She hesitates, and looks very pinched.<br/>
<br/>
Then she collapses.<br/>
<br/>
"Just go along with me, Will," she quietly pleads. "It's for everyone's good."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The story she relates dismays and bewilders you. But you have admit, when she's done, that you also feel sympathy.<br/>
<br/>
Not for Katy, though, for it's not her own story she's shared. It's Stephanie's story. It turns out the girl really does have feelings and not just muscles.<br/>
<br/>
It starts with the fact that Stephanie has had a crush on Marc Garner for at least three years now. She grew up knowing him—she was constantly at Eva and Jessica's house, and so their bratty brother was always underfoot and making their playtime miserable—but somewhere about the time she was fourteen Stephanie suddenly got very hot for him. Trouble was, his feelings hadn't changed toward <i>her:</i> She was still just the tomboy who used to come over to his house to play with his sisters, and who once chased him down the street and beat her fists into his stomach when he messed up one too many of their play dates. Oh, they had gotten to be "friends" in the meantime, but only in the way that kids who used to pull each other's hair get to be friends after they're too old to pull each other's hair anymore.<br/>
<br/>
Marc had a girlfriend for a couple of years, but then she moved away, and that's when Stephanie saw her chance. All summer between their junior and senior years she had been maneuvering to get herself into Marc's sights, and to get him to start thinking of her as the kind of girl that maybe he'd like to date. Little things, like dropping in to see Eva and Jessica when she knew for a fact that the girls weren't home. Accidentally running into Marc while he was out jogging. Butt-dialing him just before bedtime.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, Stephanie was very subtle about it.<br/>
<br/>
She was so subtle that, a few days after she entered Westside, Marc was going around with Hannah Westrick instead.<br/>
<br/>
And <i>that</i> is how come Stephanie has it in for Hannah. Because there is <i>literally no one else at Westside</i> that Stephanie would even look twice at—it's Marc Garner or no one. Meanwhile, Hannah is known for getting shit-faced drunk off a single beer and making out with the entire Eastman High School boys' tennis club. <i>How is it fair that a girl like that should hook up with the </i>only guy<i> that Stephanie cares about? Is there no justice in the universe?</i><br/>
<br/>
Katy didn't know any of this. No one at school does, for Stephanie has told no one. Her crush on Marc Garner is her deepest and most personal secret, and one she is paranoid about letting slip. She would <i>die</i> of humiliation if it ever got out.<br/>
<br/>
But Katy found out after getting into Stephanie's mask. And her reverence for Stephanie is such that now she is determined to help Stephanie gain her deepest wish.<br/>
<br/>
Katy doesn't want to hurt or humiliate Hannah. She just wants to break Hannah and Marc up, and to break them up in a way that will cause Marc to fall into Stephanie's waiting arms.<br/>
<br/>
Because, she explains to you, isn't that what one friend would want for another?<br/>
<br/>
And, she adds, wouldn't you like to help out? Because you're <i>Katy's</i> friend, and wouldn't you like to help Katy?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
This is all very mortifying, of course, even if it's interesting to learn that Stephanie has actual feelings. But you put off Katy/Stephanie's question—You will help us out, won't you, Will?—with one of your own. <i>What the fuck is Katy's actual plan?</i><br/>
<br/>
Stephanie and her friends—who have their own reasons for detesting Hannah Westrick—have a cruel trick planned for her tonight, at Megan's party. Katy was going to help, but now she thinks that's a bad idea. It'll get Marc pissed off at them, and then there goes any chance that he and Stephanie will ever get together. No, her plan is to get Marc away from the party, so that he won't be there when it happens. Instead, it will be a fake Marc Garner there with Hannah, and the fake won't show any sympathy to Hannah. Instead, he'll be interested in Stephanie, which will piss Hannah off and maybe she'll break up with him right then and there.<br/>
<br/>
And why won't Marc be at Megan's party, even though Hannah will be?<br/>
<br/>
"I got it all set up with him at the park after you left," she explains. "That's how come I had to show up there like—" She points at her—Stephanie's—face. "I told him, uh—" She grimaces with embarrassment. "I told him I chased you off, Will. That I came out to meet Katy, and I saw you perched over him like a ghoul or something, and I chased you off."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"It'll be okay," she says. "I'll make it okay with him. But I said I chased you off, and then I stayed and talked to him. Made him see, like, that I'm— That Stephanie is really into him. Talked about old times. Hanging out with Eva and Jessica, and him, when they were kids." She turns a little pink.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but when he comes looking for me, to punch me out for—"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, that's not going to happen. Marc's not like that. He's not like ... Lloyd!" She visibly shudders. "Anyway, it's not like you're really friends with him. You and him are—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>that</i> makes me feel better!"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you'll get it, man," she retorts, "after you've—"<br/>
<br/>
Then her face falls. "Oh, wait," she says, and all the color leaves her cheeks. "Shit."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?" You feel a spark of hope that her plan may yet fall apart without your having to actively sabotage it.<br/>
<br/>
"I was going to say, you'll understand after you've got Marc's mask on. That he's not the kind of guy who—" She swallows. "But you're not gonna have time to learn any of that."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. "Because you're not going to have his memories! Look how much time it took me to get Stephanie's!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Damn," you say. "That's right. Then I guess we won't be able to—" But you break off as Katy starts pacing the basement with her hands on her hips. She's got one of Stephanie's patented "don't fuck with me" expressions, but her eye is turned inward.<br/>
<br/>
She stops in mid-pace to glare at you. "You couldn't fake it through the party as Marc, could you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so," you lie. Based on your experience with Cathy Schell's mask—which you still have hidden somewhere in the basement—you're pretty sure you could get Marc's memories and personality right away. "Besides, you still haven't told me how you were going to get Marc away from the party."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I set that up with him already, out at the park." Katy dismisses your objection with a wave of her hand. "I said I'd meet up with him early, before the party. Shit!" She pulls out her cell phone to check the time. "And I'm going to be late for that if I don't get a hustle on. And if I don't make that—"<br/>
<br/>
She tenses all over, staring off into space, and the moment seems to hang and freeze. You hold your breath, waiting for her to conceded that the game is up.<br/>
<br/>
Then it's like a nerve has snapped inside her head. She relaxes all over, and her gaze is very clear when she turns to you.<br/>
<br/>
"You have to try, Will," she says. "For me."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I can."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll just have to take Marc off by myself," she says. "He can't be there when they play that gag on Hannah. It'll ruin it forever for him and Stephanie if he's there."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll hear about it anyway," you remind her. "And he'll wonder how Stephanie managed to be in two places at the same time."<br/>
<br/>
"And that's how come you have to go to the party as him," she insists. "So you can get Stephanie out of there. You go to the party and then you pull Stephanie out and take her off where, you know, it's just—"<br/>
<br/>
It startles you when you see it in her eyes: the flash of jealousy. She's asking you—her boyfriend?—to take Stephanie away from the party and ... flirt hard with her?<br/>
<br/>
And now you feel pinned. For as much as you don't want to get involved in this really spastic plan of hers ... and as much as you don't want to hurt her feelings by going off to make out with another girl ... you do want to help her out.<br/>
<br/>
And helping her out by getting into a sweaty clinch with Stephanie Wyatt—the real girl—would be a bonus.</span></div></div>


path: 111134414111122131222
author_id: seuzz
title: Gossip at the DQ
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Well, he's kind of a light-weight, don't you think?</i><br/>
<br/>
Your skull rings like a bell with Stephanie's words. You only just restrain yourself form swinging around and snarling something at her.<br/>
<br/>
You tense all over and listen harder into the silence that follows.<br/>
<br/>
Then Yumi says, "What do you mean by that? Just because he's not a basketball player or a—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mean like that," Stephanie says. "Look, never mind, he's your friend, if he—"<br/>
<br/>
Their voices overlap in a babble before clarifying with Yumi saying, "—not good enough."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say <i>that,</i>" Stephanie snaps. "If he asks her out, that's great, if he makes something of it—"<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie sighs, deeply. "Has Will ever had a girlfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
A pause. Your fingers curls into claws. "He and Lisa Yarborough were going out together over the summer," Yumi says.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought they were just hanging out."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what Will thought and what Lisa thought turned out to be two different things."<br/>
<br/>
Your ears redden. Stephanie says, "Uh huh. Well, if he and Katy are going to go out, they need to be on the same page."<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't that what 'going out' is supposed to, you know, tell them?" Yumi asks. "Tell them if they're—"<br/>
<br/>
"Not if it's— Pfft. Look." You can almost picture the look of exasperation on Stephanie's face. "If Will's never had a serious girlfriend— Like, what happens if he gets scared, just dumps her and runs away?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is she that fragile?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what are you worried about?"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie sighs again.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," she says when she resumes, "when I call him a light-weight, what I mean is, he hasn't got any heft. You know? He just kind of bobs along. I mean, he's a nice guy. One of the nicest. But he's so— I dunno. <i>Rabbity."</i><br/>
<br/>
There's a silence, which gives you plenty of time to notice that your heart is starting to sink toward your knees. Then Yumi says, "And you think that's a problem. You think Katy—"<br/>
<br/>
"I just don't think Katy's interested in puppy love. That's all. Can Prescott be more serious than that? What was the problem between him and Lisa, why'd they break up?"<br/>
<br/>
There's another pause before Yumi says, "It was her idea, not his. <i>He</i> didn't want to break up."<br/>
<br/>
"Is he on the rebound?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so. I think he—"<br/>
<br/>
More confused babble of voices. You fight the urge to turn around to see their expressions. You hope they don't see yours. You feel like you're about to throw up.<br/>
<br/>
Then Yumi says, "He didn't know what to do with her, that's what happened. Lisa got tired of waiting for him to make it serious."<br/>
<br/>
Again, Stephanie says "Uh huh" as though Yumi has confessed something so obvious that it didn't need to be said. "Just tell Will not to waste Katy's time."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to—!" But the rest of Yumi's words are lost in more cross-talk, until Stephanie raises her voice to say, "I just mean, tell him that if he's going to ask her out, he needs to be serious. He can't jerk her around the way he jerked Lisa around."<br/>
<br/>
Yumi's voice falls to a mutter, but you think hear her say, "condoms." "Right, that's what I mean about him being a lightweight," Stephanie says. "Does he know how to act with a girl without being a gink?" Yumi mutters something else, to which Stephanie replies, "He should have been learning it two years ago."<br/>
<br/>
You've had enough—you've had more than enough—and you're about to get up and leave, but you're arrested by Yumi's next question. "So who do you think is in Katy's league?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" Stephanie exclaims. "It's not a matter of being in someone's 'league'. I <i>hate</i> that word. I hate that whole idea. Prescott's totally in her league, if he can figure out how to stand up on his own two feet without falling over. Anybody could be in anybody's league if they just—"<br/>
<br/>
"Could he be in your league?" The mischief in Yumi's voice is unmistakable.<br/>
<br/>
"If wishes were horses," Stephanie retorts. "But it's like he needs a babysitter more than he needs a girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"That's a really rude thing to say, Stephanie."<br/>
<br/>
"It's Katy's senior year, and she—"<br/>
<br/>
"Has <i>she</i> ever had a boyfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's been careful. That's why I'm— Really, I don't have a problem with Prescott asking her out. It's a free country, and boo-yah for him if he does. But there are freshmen guys at school who are more mature than him." Her voice rises, so that it echoes off the hard Formica tables. "I just don't like to see him wasting her time with a lot of fumbling around. Hell, I don't want to see <i>him</i> hurt or disappointed or whatever because he—! He should have been asking her out when they were sophomores. They'd have been perfect for each other, or something, back then."<br/>
<br/>
"What, are you saying it's too late for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Stop putting words in my mouth. I—"<br/>
<br/>
Another babble of cross-talk. Again, you come real close to leaving—this time in tears. Fucking stupid female hormones.<br/>
<br/>
"So who's your idea of someone for Katy?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean who isn't a lightweight?" A silence ensues; you bite your lip. "Cameron Huber," Stephanie finally says, naming the school's quarterback. You can barely keep back a snort of contempt.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon Black?" Yumi asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>fuck</i> no! I mean, he's no lightweight, but there's guys <i>in between</i> Prescott and Black. That's where most of them are."<br/>
<br/>
"So give me some names."<br/>
<br/>
"What is this, a slumber party all of a sudden?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just mean, it would help me figure out what you mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, fine. Austin Dougherty. Jeremiah James. Tyler Rawls."<br/>
<br/>
"Anyone <i>not</i> on the soccer team? What about Marc?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just trying to think through names, you know, in some kind of order. But Marc, definitely."<br/>
<br/>
"Marcos?"<br/>
<br/>
"Rivera? Ych. Too much of a player."<br/>
<br/>
"Cole Parker?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lightweight."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? Everyone I know thinks he's cute."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, he is cute. But he's like Prescott, he doesn't know what to do with it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
From there the talk just turns gossipy as Yumi and Stephanie compile a strange kind of "who's hot, who's not" list. You're relieved—somewhat—that Stephanie emphatically rejects the swaggering bully-boys of the school: Gordon Black, Steve Patterson, Jason Lynch, Seth Javits, Erik Carstairs, Brian Kelly, etc., etc. And you're thunderstruck when it includes two names you'd never have guessed would win Stephanie's approval: Carson Ioeger and James Lamont.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh sure, they're smart, they're going places," she says when Yumi also evinces surprise. "You can't push them around. They got confidence. They've earned it, too."<br/>
<br/>
From there the conversation wanders, from mutual guy friends to mutual girl friends, to gossip about the cheerleader squad and the girls' varsity basketball and soccer teams. There's some drama going on with the latter, and they have a pretty intense conversation about Marc Garner and Hannah Westrick, and how long their hot, orgiastic relationship can last before burning out. After about an hour, though, Yumi declares she has to go. There's a note of exhaustion in her voice, and Stephanie also sounds tired, but she remains behind after Yumi's gone.<br/>
<br/>
You let a few minutes pass, during which you duck into the women's restroom to freshen up. Stephanie is still at the table, her head bent over the phone, when you come back out. She does a double-take at you when you speak to her.<br/>
<br/>
"So I hope you don't think I was eavesdropping," you tell her, and you force a smile onto your face, "but that was a pretty intense conversation you were having with your friend."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh." Stephanie's expression is very tight, but she scrambles to move her book bag off the table, as though to invite you to sit down. "Yeah, I guess our voices carried. Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the decision? About whether that guy should ask that girl out?"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie's expression freezes, then falls. "Oh," she says, and looks away.<br/>
<br/>
"You were going to ask me something, when I was sitting with you earlier," you say. "Advice about a guy?"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie stares back up at you. Her expression has turned haggard, and she bites her lip.<br/>
<br/>
Then she shrugs. "It was nothing. Nothing important."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd like to help."<br/>
<br/>
"It's nothing," she repeats, and lunges for her pack. "I should get home. I'll, uh, see you around, Coach."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's almost ten o'clock before you get home, unencumbered of mask and clothes, which you've left in the school basement, where the fire continues to burn. You've brought a new brain band with you, though, and because you're done with your homework you have nothing better to do than to carve runes into it while thinking about what you learned at the Dairy Queen.<br/>
<br/>
You're chastened and upset, naturally, by what you overheard, but you've got no one to blame for that except yourself. And what really hurts is that much of what Stephanie said makes a certain amount of sense. You cringe when you recall the word she used—<i>rabbity.</i> But doesn't it fit? You do tend to duck and hide when trouble comes along. You've always been jumpy around girls. Ms. Goretsky once remarked on your "nervous energy." Was she just being polite instead of telling you that you've got a bad case of "nerves"?<br/>
<br/>
There's no reason you have to pay attention to anything Stephanie says, though. It's not like you <i>have</i> to ask Katy Conlee out. You don't even know her.<br/>
<br/>
So why are you making this new band? Unless it's so you can borrow someone else's confidence and skill with girls?</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312222
author_id: seuzz
title: Surprise Invites
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Rabbity.</i> That's what Stephanie called you.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it's pride talking, but if you're going to ask a girl out, you'd rather do it as your rabbity self than with a borrowed personality. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You finish the brain band in the wee hours of the morning, then tuck it into your book bag before going to bed. The next morning, on the way to school, you stop by the basement to drop it off with your other supplies. The fire is <i>still</i> burning, and you grimly wonder if you fucked up the spell and created an unquenchable magic flame.<br/>
<br/>
You're fidgety all morning. Should you talk to Yumi? Wait for Yumi to talk to you? Should you go looking for her—and Katy—in the gym at lunch? You chicken out, though, which leads to a surprise eighth period.<br/>
<br/>
That's your Astronomy class. Stephanie is in there too—the only class you share with her—and she calls your name and beckons you over just after you sit down.<br/>
<br/>
"We're getting a study group together tomorrow night," she tells you. She doesn't smile at you, but her eyes are bright and friendly. "I need to bone up in here, wondered if you wanted to join us."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure," you stammer. "What time? Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Municipal library around eight. Dunno if we'll stay there. You got a curfew?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eleven."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. We might move over to The Flying Saucer instead, see where we go from there." She rubs her nose with the back of her fist. "How are you doing on the quizzes in here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Good enough, I think. Got a B on my last one."<br/>
<br/>
"Doing better'n me, we could help each other out." Her gaze cools as you stare back at her. "See you then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Sure." Too late you realize you've been dismissed. "Yeah and, uh, thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. For thinking of me?"<br/>
<br/>
She grunts, and with your face crimsoning you return to your desk. You slump there and chide yourself for being so wrong-footed when you had an idea that something was up. But you were surprised that the set-up came from Stephanie's direction. Maybe her talk with Yumi has shamed her into giving you some kind of chance.<br/>
<br/>
Not until later that night, while absent-mindedly polishing a mask, does it occur to you that you should be thinking about impressing Katy, not Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake Wednesday morning to find that Yumi has texted you links to some of Katy's social media presences. There are lots of pictures of her with her basketball teammates, both in and out of uniform: at parties, hanging out in classrooms, sprawling on the grass or perched on some rocks out in the countryside. Katy, with her toothy smile and cheerful squint, is the cutest of the bunch—<i>cute as a bug in a rug,</i> as the old expression goes. But she also seems the least impressive, somehow. She looks like the kid sister hanging out with a more mature crowd, especially when set next to Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
"Any chance of us getting together later?" Caleb asks you at the start of English. "Keith's making a video tonight," he adds, as though that explains why he's so desperate as to ask <i>you</i> to keep him company.<br/>
<br/>
"I've got a date," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
He does a double-take. "You? A <i>date?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"What's so weird about that?" you snarl.<br/>
<br/>
"Who with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, it's a study date, actually. Me and some other people."<br/>
<br/>
He snorts. "That's not a date, dude."<br/>
<br/>
"With some girls, so it is! Stephanie Wyatt asked me out."<br/>
<br/>
"She asked you <i>along,</i>" he corrects you. "I could go," he adds as a seeming afterthought.<br/>
<br/>
"No one asked you."<br/>
<br/>
He reddens. "You saying I'm not welcome?"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "Fine. You can go. We're meeting at Madison at eight. But I'm going for the girls, okay? Not for you."<br/>
<br/>
He twines his hands behind his head. "So'm I, Will. So'm I."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You think about warning Stephanie that Caleb will be along too, but when you see her you just reiterate that you'll see her at the library. She nods and returns to her cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
Your nerves play havoc with your appetite at dinner, so much so that your mom asks if you're feeling alright; you tell her a lie about having had a very late afternoon snack. You get some of your homework done after that, then as seven-thirty approaches you give some thought to the study date coming up. Even though it's been twenty-four hours since you were inside Coach Schell's mask, you must have a little bit of a hangover from those hours inside it, for you find yourself remembering, in a vague sort of way, that she was always impressed when a guy dressed up for even a casual meeting. So you spend almost fifteen minutes changing into and out of various shirts and pants, trying to find a look that seems groomed without being churchy, and casual without being sloppy. You finally settle on a white denim shirt and a clean pair of blue jeans. At your bedroom door, in a kind of spasm, you hurl your sloppy ball cap back onto the bed.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm meeting some guys at the library," you tell your parents as you pass through the living room. "Study group." Your dad only nods, but you feel your mom's eyes on your back. She calls your name when you're almost to the garage, and turn to find her hurrying up.<br/>
<br/>
Appraisingly, she glances you up and down. "Who's in this study group?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"'M not sure," you admit. "Stephanie Wyatt set it up. She asked me along 'cos we're both in Astronomy, and she needs help in it."<br/>
<br/>
"I see." She pulls at the lines of your shirt, and you flinch under her fingertips. "Your haircut looks good," she says. "You could brush it out a little. And shave." She scratches her chin meaningfully.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself blush, and almost demur. You should have told her you were meeting Caleb., then she wouldn't be bothering you this way. But her point's well taken, and you dash upstairs long enough to fluff your hair out a little—you still had hat hair from the day—and to scrape some longish whiskers off your chin and cheekbones.<br/>
<br/>
Then, on a thought, you dash into your bedroom long enough to snatch up the mask you were starting to polish and stuff it into your backpack. You can drop it off at the elementary school on your way to the library, and also check on the fire.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're late getting to the library, and find Caleb loitering in the lobby. "So who are these girls we're supposed to be meeting?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I 'unno. Stephanie's one of 'em. Girl named Katy Conlee. You know her?" Your heart beats hard despite your attempted nonchalance. Caleb shakes his head. "Oh hey." You point up to the mezzanine behind the periodical section, where Kristy Suffolk's head is bobbing over the partition. "I bet they're up there. It's basketball players, most of them, I think."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Caleb mutters, but he follows you.<br/>
<br/>
"You waiting here for Stephanie?" you ask Kristy when you saunter up. She's sitting at a six-person table opposite Meghan Velasquez, a rather horse-faced member of the basketball squad.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, hey," Kristy says, and pushes out a chair for you. You hesitate and do a rapid calculation. Six people, three to a side, if you sit next to Kristy, that will put an empty chair on your other flank—<br/>
<br/>
So you take it, but Caleb promptly parks himself in the chair you were saving for Katy. You kick him hard under the table. "Ow," he says, but he doesn't move, so you kick him again. "Quit it," he says as he opens his bag. "Watch where you're putting those boats of yours."<br/>
<br/>
"It's pretty crowded over here," you tell him through gritted teeth. "Maybe you could leave that chair open until someone else shows up?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stares at you. Then his eyes go wide, and his mouth forms a perfect circle. "Oh," he says. "Right." He moves over to the other side of the table, next to Meghan. "Mind if I sit next to you?" he asks her. She smiles—a very friendly, very white thing—and inquires after his health. "I'll be good as soon as the swelling in my ankle goes down," he says, and shoots you a grim look.<br/>
<br/>
Your quartet all share fourth-period English, so there's that to talk about. You're surprised at how cordial the two girls are. Kristy is rather reserved, but she solicits your opinion on the Virgil that you've been reading in there, and listens with evident interest to your opinion. Meghan is much bubblier, and laughs at every dry quip that Caleb makes at your expense. Inside of five minutes, you're wondering why you and your friend have been hanging aloof in Ms. Gladstone's class instead of sitting with these two girls.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie and Katy arrive not long after. "Hey Will," says Stephanie in a tone that's about a hundred times warmer than you've ever heard her use with you before. "Glad you made it." She drops into the chair next to Caleb, which leaves Katy to sit next to you. You look her up and down as she pulls out the chair and sits.<br/>
<br/>
She's shorter than you would think likely for a basketball player—even a girl player—though she's far from diminutive. Her face is round and pale, though flushed a little, and her eyes shine brightly as she smiles at you. Close up, she reminds you more of a cherub than a chipmunk. Her cheeks are round and dimpled like apples, and her eyes almost disappear when her face rolls up into a smile. "Hi, I'm Katy," she chirps.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Will," you say. It feels like your heart is sitting on the back of your tongue. "Um, that's a big book bag," you lamely observe of her satchel, which is bulging so hard it looks like the seams will pop.<br/>
<br/>
"Got lots of books," she says, and starts to unpack it.<br/>
<br/>
The first thing that comes out is a hardback library book: <i>The Vodou Spellbook.</i> You catch your breath.</span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122221
author_id: seuzz
title: Semi-Enchanted Evening
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You pick up the book. The dust jacket shows a pile of straw with a skull and a cloth doll propped up next to it. The title, in white letters rimmed with black, is <i>The Vodou Spellbook.</i> "So what's this?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie snatches it from your hand. "It's mine," she says, and she shoots Katy a hard glance as she shoves the book into her own backpack. "Katy was borrowing it."<br/>
<br/>
"You into voodoo?" you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
"Research." Her attitude, so friendly a moment ago, has turned icy. "For Halloween. Getting party ideas." She darts her eyes about the table. "So what are we working on first?" she asks. "English?"<br/>
<br/>
No one says anything, and a reek of embarrassment settles on the group.<br/>
<br/>
"So maybe we should split up," Stephanie says after the silence has turned awkward. "Will, we could start with Mr. Cash's class. I definitely need some help in there." She hauls up her backpack and with a jerk of her chin gestures you to join her at another table.<br/>
<br/>
A cold feeling washes over you, but you stagger to your feet and follow. A numb spot forms around your heart, and when you glance over your shoulder you see Katy watching you go with wide eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie takes you a couple of tables over, and—intentionally or not—makes you sit with your back to everyone else. She unpacks her books silently, and you follow suit. But the third item you pull from your bag isn't a textbook or a notebook. It's that mask. With a small groan, you remember that you were going to drop it off at the elementary school, and clean forgot.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that thing?" Stephanie's question jerks you back to the present. She nods at the mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Erm. Art project."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, what class?"<br/>
<br/>
"No class. Just a thing I'm working on." You start to put it back in your bag.<br/>
<br/>
But Stephanie darts out a hand. "Lemme see," she says. And since you've always been so goddamned intimidated by her, you let her take it.<br/>
<br/>
She holds it up and studies it with a look of concentration, turning it around and over. "A mask, huh?" she says. "It needs eyeholes."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you're going to wear it," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"What else would you do with it? Oh, maybe hang it on a wall? Is it like a wall decoration?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. I, uh, haven't decided."<br/>
<br/>
"It's pretty good work. What's it made out of? You carve it or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I, uh, used a mold. It's got a complicated, uh, recipe."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you got like a craft book? What's this?" She points to a spot on the cheek. "It's got a blemish."<br/>
<br/>
"No, that's where I'm polishing it. It's supposed to turn blue when you polish it."<br/>
<br/>
"Like with a stone polisher?"<br/>
<br/>
"A what? No, I'm just using a, uh, handkerchief."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie gives you a very direct stare. "You're kidding, right? Is that what that book says to do? Use a handkerchief?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's an old book." You feel yourself blushing.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Well, if it was me, I'd use a stone polisher. Or a car buffer. Does it take a long time?"<br/>
<br/>
"It feels like forever."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Well, do what you want." She hands the mask back to you, and resumes unpacking her stuff.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After that, it's thirty minutes of reviewing the Ptolemaic, Copernican, and Keplerian models of the solar systems. Stephanie tackles it with a grim intensity, but the air between you thaws as you take turns quizzing each other on the material. She gives you a dirty look—though there's a twinkle in her eye—when you show yourself a better master of it. "Bastard," she mutters, but somehow it sounds like a compliment. <br/>
<br/>
Then you switch off, with Stephanie returning to the table with the girls and Caleb moving over to your table to do some Calculus. But he's more interested in teasing you about Stephanie. "How's your date with her going?" he chortles softly.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a date!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not what you told me this afternoon. Didn't you come over here to play footsie with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! I don't know why she dragged me over here." You glance back at Katy, who seems to be in earnest conversation with Stephanie. You hesitate, but decide not to tell Caleb about the real set-up. "Except to study for Mr. Cash's class."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, she was waiting for you to make a move."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up."<br/>
<br/>
After another thirty-minute interval, the girls call you back to their table, but only briefly. "We're moving over to The Flying Saucer," Stephanie tells you. "It's boring here. Will, can you take someone? We're going to carpool over, I'll take everyone else."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Um." You freeze under Stephanie's unwinking stare, feeling like a bird that's been hypnotized by a snake. Your throat tightens and your voice turns very thick. "I'll, uh, take ... Katy?" You wrench your eyes from Stephanie. "I think Caleb wants—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's cool," Stephanie says. "Meet you over there." She swings her pack onto her shoulder and turns away. Meghan and Kristy follow, and Caleb saunters along too. He shoots you a mirthful glance over his shoulder, and you feel yourself blushing to your roots. Your knees are locked, and your feet feel bolted to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"So," you stammer out to Katy. "I've got a truck."<br/>
<br/>
"That'll get us there," she says. You notice that her complexion is now more pink than peach. "You like The Flying Saucer?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay. They're all okay. They're all kooky. Except for Starbucks."<br/>
<br/>
"Starbucks is boring."<br/>
<br/>
"You like occult stuff? Is that why you had a voodoo book?"<br/>
<br/>
"That was Stephanie's." Katy ducks her chin, and her eyes dart about. "I'm not supposed to talk to you about that," she says with an embarrassed grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, is that what she told you?" You can't help grinning back at her. "She doesn't want you spoiling some Halloween prank?"<br/>
<br/>
"Something like that." She turns even more pink. "We should go."<br/>
<br/>
You fall in next to her. You're tempted to link your arm with hers, but you restrain yourself as, side by side, you walk out he lobby to the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
You don't share any classes with Katy, so you inquire about her schedule and tell her about yours. Except for her AP English class, her schedule seems even lighter than yours: a junior-level Physics class, a French-for-Reading-Knowledge class, and a basic government class. But she's also taking Plants and Soils. "On account of my parents," she says. "Can you tell I'm wrinkling my nose?"<br/>
<br/>
It's dark in the cab of your truck, so you can't. "You don't like it? Do you live on a farm?"<br/>
<br/>
"Practically. We own a nursery south of town. CC Nursery and Landscaping?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I know where that is! I was out there just a few days ago, bought some, uh—" Too late you restrain yourself. "Potting soil."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, do you have a green thumb?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hardly. It was, uh, for my mom. An errand." Actually, it was for that spell you've left burning in the elementary school basement. "So, do <i>you</i> have a green thumb?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But my dad still keeps trying to hire me on there. He doesn't want it to be 'chores', he says, so he won't make me. But he really wants me to learn the business."<br/>
<br/>
"Wow, that's just like my dad," you exclaim. "Except he doesn't own the place he works, but he keeps pestering me to take a job there."<br/>
<br/>
It's like a bolt of electricity has gone shooting across the dark cab, and you dart a glance over at Katy. By the dim street lamps and headlights of the traffic, you see that she's grinning back at you. Talking quickly, sometimes at the same time, you commiserate about hectoring parents and their expectations. You're chatting like long-time friends by the time you enter The Flying Saucer, and hardly even notice the amused glances that you get as you join the others.<br/>
<br/>
There's no question of "studying" anymore, and you all sit around the table with coffees, talking and laughing. You are vaguely aware that Caleb has muted his usual honk, but you're too busy telling Katy about your "Film as Literature" class to pay too much attention to the rest of the table. She asks if you've watched any horror movies in there. "I like horror movies," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"She's lying," Stephanie interjects with a sharp smile—one of the few times at the Saucer that she says anything to you. "She's just telling you that 'cos she figures you do."<br/>
<br/>
So it's a fun time until the Saucer closes, when you give Katy a ride back to the library. "I think your friend kind of hit it off with Meghan," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Who, Caleb? I didn't notice."<br/>
<br/>
She titters. "We should all get together to study there more often."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean at a coffee shop? Or that place?" One thought leads to another, and you think of that voodoo book. "You like weird things, like that voodoo book?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, that's Stephanie's."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't picture <i>her</i> being into voodoo."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not supposed to tell you about it, but it's for a prank. You know Hannah Westrick? She's on the soccer team? She's dating Marc Garner?" Her tone grows more exasperated with each shake of your head. "Anyway, we're going to prank her."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos no one likes her. Well, Marc does. Lots of guys like her, I guess, on account of she's, well—" Katy breaks off. "Anyway, Stephanie and some of her friends from the soccer team are going to get back at her. Scare her."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
Katy relates a vague story of jealousy and wrong-doing. Hannah Westrick came over from Eastman, joined the soccer team, and has been causing problems ever since. This prank is to teach her to know her place.<br/>
<br/>
"And you're using voodoo on her?" Your skin prickles.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not <i>real</i> voodoo on her, 'cos voodoo's not <i>real.</i> Except, maybe, psychologically. But it's creepy, and we want to creep her out."<br/>
<br/>
<b>Vote on where the story goes next:</b> "<a href="" target="_top" title="">Invalid Item</a>" <a target="_blank" title=""><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 111134414111122131222211
author_id: seuzz
title: It Could Be Magic
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's coming up hard on your curfew, but after dropping Katy off you swing by the elementary school to check on the fire. To your delight, the basement is dark, and you have to fumble your way around until you find the flashlight. Is the spell done? <br/>
<br/>
But when you set a flame to the pile of dirt, purple flames bloom off it again. You grimace with disappointment, and after staring at it for a few minutes, lock it up for the night.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So are you and Katy going out now?" Caleb asks you the next morning in Walberg's class.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. No. I dunno. Are you and Meghan going out now?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb makes a face but his ears turn red, which tells you that you've scored a hit. "Are you going to have lunch with Katy?" he asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Should I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah! So <i>are</i> going out with her."<br/>
<br/>
"No! I told you, I don't know!" You rub your forehead: this is something you've been worrying about. "I don't know how to handle this!"<br/>
<br/>
"But you are interested in her."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I guess." You notice that your leg is jogging up and down like a jack hammer, and you still it. "How should I handle it with her?"<br/>
<br/>
He snorts. "How about you just try doing the opposite of everything you did with Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
Now you make a face at him, then glance over your shoulder at your ex- while discreetly flipping your best friend off.<br/>
<br/>
You could go looking for Katy at the break, but instead you look for Yumi to ask her advice. "Where are you having lunch?" you ask her. "Are you eating with Katy and them? Should I show up?"<br/>
<br/>
Yumi stares at you, then breaks out in a grin. "So you had a good time last night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" you pant. "But I dunno what to do next!"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, look, never mind lunch. Go look for her at her locker, see if she wants to see a movie or something on Friday. If you're really interested in getting to know her better, that is. Are you?"<br/>
<br/>
You gulp. "Sure. But what about lunch? We really hit off, her and me! Shouldn't—"<br/>
<br/>
"Forget lunch. I'll bring her around to eat with you guys tomorrow, that'll be soon enough. Oh, and Will—" She gives you a pitying look. "Try to cut down on the caffeine between now and then."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you do wind up eating lunch with Katy. You and Caleb, on your way out to eat next to the Agricultural Annex, bump into her and Stephanie as they come in from there. Stephanie continues on—though with a cheerful smile at you and Caleb; yet another first in your experience—but Katy lights up at the suggestion that she eat with the you. Caleb, after hanging back, announces he's got stuff to talk about with Carson and James, and trudges off; you don't know what's happened to Keith, who is your usual third at lunch.<br/>
<br/>
So it's just you and Katy, taking lunch together on the grass behind the school. There's a little talk at the start, a shy, gushing recapitulation of last night's conversations. Talk about how much fun it was, and how you should all do it more often. About parents and their expectations. About the classes you've had so far and the classes to come. You're feeling desperately short of topics when you remember Yumi's suggestion about asking her out to see a movie. You check show times on your phone and find that a new horror picture will be opening on Friday: <i>Cravenmoor.</i> "That sounds great," Katy says. "I'd love to see it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you actually like horror movies?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure!"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos Stephanie said that you don't, that you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Stephanie can go, uh, suck on an egg," Katy says. She blushes deeply. "I do like them!"<br/>
<br/>
You snap your fingers. "Oh, right, because you and her and all your friends are into voodoo."<br/>
<br/>
"We're <i>not</i> into it!" She blushes harder. "We're just looking for, like, Halloween ideas."<br/>
<br/>
"To scare this Hannah girl."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Right, I told you about that. But that doesn't mean we're into voodoo. It's like putting peanut butter in her hairbrush, something like that. Only creepier." She giggles.<br/>
<br/>
"So what are you going to do to her?"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know yet, not for sure. Or maybe we are. Stephanie and Anita are in charge of it, they don't tell me much." Her brow crinkles. "Why are you so interested?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just interested in what you're doing. Would you hit her with a hex for real? If voodoo was real?" After your experiences with that grimoire, you're no longer sure that it isn't.<br/>
<br/>
"Jeez, I don't know. I don't think we'd want to <i>hurt</i> her."<br/>
<br/>
<i>You don't? How well do you know Stephanie?</i> you want to ask her. <i>Because if this Hannah girl has pissed off Stephanie, then I think </i>hurting<i> is definitely on the table.</i><br/>
<br/>
And Katy more or less confirms your cynical take when she adds, "If we wanted to hurt her, we wouldn't be using voodoo. You know, Stephanie wanted to get her drunk—Hannah, I mean—and put her with one of the football players." She leans in close. "Hannah is a <i>total slut</i>," she whispers, "if you put as much as a wine cooler in her." She leans back and nods primly and knowingly. "Stephanie wanted to set it up so she'd wind up making out with some jerk, really screw things up between her and Marc. But Anita told her we couldn't go <i>that</i> far."<br/>
<br/>
You fall onto your side and prop your head in your hand. Katy—with her chipmunk cheeks, her dimples, her peaches-and-cream complexion; her shy, twinkling gaze—does <i>not</i> seem like the kind of girl to act on a grudge, and you rather suspect that she's being swept along in a mob-like frenzy by her friends. "Mostly," she says, continuing, "I think everyone would just be happy if Hannah quit the soccer team. Or got forced off it."<br/>
<br/>
"Because she's so bossy?" That's the word Katy had used last night. "But you're on the basketball team, what do you care?"<br/>
<br/>
Katy seems to catch her breath, and her eyes widen. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, it doesn't bother <i>me,</i>" she says. "But it bothers Anita and some of the other girls. Because Anita is team captain, and Hannah thinks that <i>she—</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, it's because you're friends with Anita, that's how come you don't like Hanna?."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sure." The air seems to be leaking out Katy. "And I mean, it's not that I don't like her. I hardly know her. But Stephanie and Anita—"<br/>
<br/>
You don't want to push her too hard, so you nod and change the subject to talk about Caleb, and just how well he got along with Meghan last night. She's brightens again at that topic, and tells you that Meghan thought Caleb was really funny.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You haven't forgotten about the fire; nor have you forgotten that offhand comment that Stephanie made, about using some kind of mechanical polisher on the masks. When you get home after school, you search the garage and are rewarded with a car buffer, still in its box. After telling your mom that you're going to meet up with Caleb but that you'll be back for supper, you sneak it out to your truck and drive over to the elementary school. You find that the fire has gone out again, but with a flick of the lighter you relight it.<br/>
<br/>
A cursory search discloses a power outlet on the wall near the stairs, and you plug in the buffer. With the base locked between your knees, you crouch on a table and run the mask over the floppy cloth head. It takes longer to polish than you'd like, but much less time than the first mask took: forty-five minutes. You're in a cheerful mood when you return home, so cheerful that you don't even get in a fight with your brother at the dinner table.<br/>
<br/>
You've got thoughts about masks in the back of your mind all evening, even as you try to concentrate on your homework. You now have another mask and brain band combination, and the prospect of being able to make at least one more such combo a night until you run out of materials. You have no idea what plans Stephanie and her friends have for Hannah, but you bet you could use the masks to make trouble for Hannah.<br/>
<br/>
But why would you do that?  In the first place, this isn't your fight. You don't even know who this Hannah girl is. In the second place, even if you did make trouble for her, how would Stephanie and Katy and them know that you're responsible for it? They don't believe in magic, so they wouldn't believe you if you told them you'd put some kind of a hex on Hannah. And in the third place, you're not sure what kind of a thing you could do to Hannah with the masks.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you do have some vague ideas, based on the kind of misadventures you've already had. You used Coach Schell's mask to borrow money off one of her friends: If you disguised yourself as Hannah, you could probably make trouble for Hannah in some way. Maybe like Katy said Stephanie wanted to do, by going out and getting drunk as her and making out with a guy.<br/>
<br/>
Or could you use Coach Schell's mask in some way? Maybe barge into one of her classes while disguised at the coach, and yell at her or humiliate her in some way?<br/>
<br/>
Katy said they want Hannah off the squad. What if you got a copy of the soccer coach—not that you know who that is—and used that disguise to somehow scare Hannah off the team?<br/>
<br/>
After noodling around with these ideas, though, you have to return to the main problem: Convincing Stephanie and her friends that you're helping them out. You can see only two ways of doing that.<br/>
<br/>
One is by making yourself part of their conspiracy, and using the masks to make sure they succeed. The other, though, is by telling them—or Stephanie, at least—about the masks and the grimoire.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe you can just use the masks to trip up Hannah yourself, and watch what comes next.</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312222112
author_id: seuzz
title: Spells for Stephanie
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The next day—Friday—is electric with anxiety. Not for academic reasons. There are no quizzes or tests or projects to worry you. But the air seems charged, and your brain prickles with static. Every hour or so a spasm runs through you, as though a small, hot spark has discharged at the base of your skull.<br/>
<br/>
Your friends notice. "What are you being a spazz for?" Tilley asks you in second period. "Oh, right." He lifts his nose to smirk down at you. "You gotta date."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have a date!" you protest. "I'm just seeing a movie is all."<br/>
<br/>
"With someone. I hear she's got a name."<br/>
<br/>
"Katy Conlee," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." Keith bobs his head. "She's cute." He puts his fist out for a bump. You brush his knuckles with yours, then look away. "You'll do fine," Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just seeing a movie with her!"<br/>
<br/>
"Then why are you spazzing out?" A lazy grin spreads over his face. "Is she spazzing out about it too?"<br/>
<br/>
Your throat and tongue seem to have seized up, so you just jerk your shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
If Katy is spazzing out, she doesn't show it when you cross paths with her after fourth. You have another one of those spasms, though, when Stephanie, who is with her, jerks her chin at you with a faint smile.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna eat lunch with us again?" you ask Katy in a rush, and ignore the double-take that Caleb gives you. This time he <i>doesn't</i> go off to leave you alone with Katy, and Keith joins you too. You fancy you keep up your end of the conversation, though the time mostly passes with Keith and Caleb getting to know Katy better. Before you part, though, you reiterate that you'll pick her up that evening for the seven-thirty showing of <i>Cravenmoor.</i><br/>
<br/>
But the most "electric" moments of the day come during eighth period. You give Stephanie a sidelong look as you shuffle into the classroom and continue to dart her looks before class begins. She's too absorbed in her cell phone to notice, though you'd think the little thunderclaps that seem to be going off inside your skull would get her attention. Dimly, you wonder if you're having a series of micro-strokes.<br/>
<br/>
Your gullet and guts grow colder and colder as class unfolds, until they feel completely frozen by the time the bell rings. Your knees don't want to unbend, and they creak when you stand. Slowly you look around to see if Stephanie has left yet. It would be a relief if she has. But she's still at her desk, tapping at her phone with a look of concentration.<br/>
<br/>
She glances up—her countenance is friendly—when you shuffle over to her. "Hey, you going to see a movie with Katy tonight, huh?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." Your voice is a croak. "Um. If you're not busy this afternoon, there's something I'd like to talk to you about."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Her brow furrows. "Not about Katy, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Well, not exactly. Actually, um, it's something I want to show you."<br/>
<br/>
A look of faint alarm comes into her eyes. "Uh huh?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance around, to see that the room is rapidly emptying, then fall into the seat directly in front of her.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," you say in a low voice. "Katy told me about that voodoo thing you guys are doing. With that girl Hannah." Stephanie's eyes freeze, and your heart climbs up into your throat. "It's something kind of related to that. Not to Hannah, not to her," you hurriedly add. "It's— Well, you had that voodoo book, and it got me thinking— So I found this book at Arnholm's the other day. It's like an authentic magical grimoire, really old, got magic spells in it. I thought, if you're interested in using voodoo against that girl, you might want to take a look at it? For ideas?"<br/>
<br/>
All the expression has drained from Stephanie's face, so that she's staring at you with a look of blank intensity. Then she blinks once, draws a short breath, and smiles. "Sure," she says. "Bring it in next week, I'll have a look at it—"<br/>
<br/>
"Could you come look at it this afternoon?" you blurt out. "I mean, I guess next week would be fine, too. But I've got some stuff that I made with it, you could look at those things and it at the same time. You know that mask I showed you at the library the other night?" you add as Stephanie cocks her head. "That's something I made with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Well, sure, I got time. What time are you picking Katy up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Around seven. If you want to meet me where I keep the stuff, there's an old elementary school in Acheson."<br/>
<br/>
"The community center? I know where that is." She agrees to rendezvous with you there in thirty minutes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're not sure why you've decided to let Stephanie in on this secret. She's no friend of yours, and you haven't even told Caleb and Keith, who are your friends. The only thing you can figure, as you mentally pull and twist at the question on the drive back into Acheson, is that you want to impress her. There's a good chance you'll be part of her social circle soon, if this relationship with Katy works out. You wonder if you're making her a kind of offering: <i>See,</i> you seem to be telling her, <i>I'm worth knowing, worth hanging out with. I've got stuff to offer.</i><br/>
<br/>
At least now you know why you were freaking out all day. It wasn't on account of the upcoming date with Katy, though that does give you a fluttery feeling in your stomach. It's because subconsciously you knew what you were going to say to Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
You beat her to the elementary school by about ten minutes, and she looks past you at it after dismounting from her SUV. Her expression is unreadable—she's wearing sunglasses—but you're struck suddenly by healthy she looks. She's a polished, golden bronze all over, from her bobbed blonde hair to her late summertime tan. Her legs and arms are smooth and strong, and bigger and more muscular than yours. And though you feel yourself hunching slightly in her presence, she has her shoulders back and her chin up.<br/>
<br/>
"So I don't get it," she says, and she frowns behind her sunglasses. "You're keeping that stuff here? Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"The basement." You gesture her to follow you down the steps, and as you undo the lock and lead her in you give her a summary of your history with it. "So, I think they've totally forgotten about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Stephanie says as she looks around the dark and dusty room. "You got guts, making this place your hideawy." She pulls off her sunglasses and wrinkles her nose at the room.<br/>
<br/>
You notice that the fire has gone out again, but you ignore it for the moment. "Here's that book." You pull it from its lonely spot on a bookshelf and hand it to her. "It's all in Latin," you continue as she opens it. "I've made a couple of things from it, like that mask I showed you. Oh, and I took your advice on using a polisher." You hold up the mask you made last night, and she gives it a brief glance. "Got it done real fast."<br/>
<br/>
"So, what kind of things can you do with this. Besides make those mask things?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've only got a few spells into the book, because it does this funny thing with the pages. Here, I'll show you." She hangs onto the book as you flip the pages one by one. "I did this spell, and this one, and this one. Now I'm working on this one." You point to the pile of dirt. "That's the, uh, experiment over there. But I'm not done yet. So see?" You pull at the corner of the page. "It won't turn."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?" Stephanie says as she pulls at the corner. "Is it glued down?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Well, yes, but magically. All the pages were like that before I did the spell. See, it's like the page is locked down. Then you do the spell. Then the page turns loose."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie gives you a faint smile from under her lowered brows. At least she's amused, rather than contemptuous, of your story. But her skepticism provokes you into making the final throw.<br/>
<br/>
"This is something I made," you tell her as you pull out the one finished mask you have. "I, uh— Well, never mind how it worked out this way. But I made this. It's of Coach Schell." You hand her the mask, inner face up, so that the coach's name shows.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie's face drains of all emotion as she takes it, and her eye has turned flinty when she looks back up at it you. But she is clearly curious, for she rubs her fingertip over the surface, where the letters of the coach's name seem to float. "So what is it supposed to do?" she says in a cold voice.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a disguise. A mask of the coach. You put it on your face and it—" Sweat breaks out all over you. "You should just try it out and see. That's the easiest way."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie gives you a hard look. Then she shrugs and puts the mask to her face. She wobbles briefly, and you catch her as she topples forward.<br/>
<br/>
It's Coach Schell who you lower onto the floor.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You leave her there, and go outside to wait. You wish you smoked. You're nervous, and a cigarette would pass the time.<br/>
<br/>
After fifteen minutes pass with no sign of Stephanie, you creep back down the stairs to check on her. You open the door—<br/>
<br/>
A figure at the other end of the basement whirls. It's Coach Schell, but she's in Stephanie's clothes. She's standing in front of the old mirror.<br/>
<br/>
She says nothing. Finally, you croak out, "So, what do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
A tense moment passes. Then Stephanie says, "Okay, first of all, we don't tell <i>anyone</i> about this."<br/>
<br/>
"No one? Not even Katy?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one. Have you told any of your friends?"<br/>
<br/>
It might be fun, having a secret that's just yours and Stephanie's. But she's awfully bossy. Maybe you <i>should</i> tell some others. </span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122221121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Voodoo That You Do So Well
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Second of all," Stephanie says after you numbly nod your head, "you tell me <i>all about this.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<i>This,</i> of course, is the mask she's wearing, that has transformed her into a duplicate of Coach Cathy Schell.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's like I told you," you say. "I found this book at Arnholm's—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on." She holds up her hand. "You're asking me to believe that a <i>freaking used book store</i> sold you a book that taught you how to do <i>this?</i>" She points to her face.<br/>
<br/>
You can only shrug. "It was in the special collections case! They had it marked for, like, two hundred dollars. But I got it for cheap because, like I showed you, it was like all the pages were glued shut."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie barrels past you, and you get a frisson as her skin brushes yours.<br/>
<br/>
She snatches up the book and flips rapidly through the first few pages, frowns at the one that's stuck shut, and grimaces as her thumbnail can't pry any of the subsequent ones open.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you tell her over her shoulder. "At first not even the first page would open. But then I, uh, gave it some blood—"<br/>
<br/>
She wheels on you, and you snap your own mouth shut. But then she just says, "Go on."<br/>
<br/>
"So I, uh, cut my thumb and squeezed out some blood and put it on this sigil thing on the front page. Here." You flip the book back to the first page, and show her the brownish stain. "After that it turned loose, and I did the first spell. It, uh, made that mask you're wearing."<br/>
<br/>
"So the first recipe makes a mask that makes you look like Coach Schell?" Stephanie demands.<br/>
<br/>
"No! It's more complicated than that. First, you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Show me," Stephanie says, and there's iron in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you spend the next hour going through each spell, step by step. You don't complete all of them, naturally—you're short on both time and materials. But you describe how to make a mask and a brain band. You show her the tubs of sealant and glue, and describe their uses. You tell her about fetching the dirt from the graveyard for the spell you have going now, and you relight it and show her how the purple flames that flare off it have no heat. <br/>
<br/>
And—much more embarrassing—you describe how you got a copy of Coach Schell into the mask.<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to finish each spell, see what comes next," you explain, and you hate the desperate embarrassment that even you can hear in your voice. "And, you know, I didn't set out to copy Coach Schell. She was just convenient."<br/>
<br/>
But you don't tell Stephanie about sneaking into Coach Schell's house and taking some of her clothes, or getting money off her friends, or how you copied Yumi's mind into a brain band and then used the Coach Schell disguise to eavesdrop at the Dairy Queen. Fortunately, Stephanie doesn't press for any details that would force you to confess any of that.<br/>
<br/>
She does draw one really mortifying confession from you. "So these bands," she says while fingering . "They copy memories? And you got a copy of Coach Schell's memories? Here in this mask?" You nod in answer to each of these questions. "So, shouldn't I have her memories now? Shouldn't I be able to remember things that she could remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." Your heart skips a beat. "Don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head. "Am I supposed to concentrate or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. It should come naturally."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know?" Her tone is sharp. "You tried them out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course!" As soon as you say it, you feel yourself turning black with embarrassment.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie gives you a look, but she doesn't look angry or scandalized. "So like what sorts of things should I be remembering?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, everything. Where she lives, where she goes to the gym. Her classes. Her, uh, boyfriend." You stare closely at Stephanie, whose gaze has gone distant. "Getting anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. What's her boyfriend's name?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't remember. The memories don't stay with you long after you take the mask off. He's a Hispanic guy, I know that. He's one of the tutors."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, him," Stephanie says, then she blinks. "Really? Does everyone know it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess the staff does. I don't remember it being a secret thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. 'Cos I'm not getting anything. I mean, I know who you're talking about, but I don't remember anything ..." She trails off, and again her gaze goes unfocused. "No," she says with a sigh. "Nothing. Are you sure?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, pretty sure. But the, uh, the mask itself works fine." You look her up and down. She does look good, especially in Stephanie's clothes, which expose her legs from high on the thigh all the way down to her ankles. "But maybe I should take it off you."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you better," Stephanie agrees, and at your direction she lays back on one of the tables. Her eyes flutter as you lay your hand across her brow. You grip her forehead, mutter some nonsensical syllables, and pull. The mask comes away in your hand, leaving the unconscious Stephanie behind.<br/>
<br/>
You give her another good lookover, and wonder what exactly you've gotten yourself into by sharing all this with her, then trudge up the stairs and outside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's closing on dinnertime, and you've a date after that, so you and Stephanie part thereafter. She impresses upon you again the need for secrecy, and says that she'll want to talk to tomorrow. "Early," she says, which makes your heart sink a little.<br/>
<br/>
You've not much appetite at the dinner table, but no one expects you to have one on account of your going to the show. Afterward, you change into fresh jeans and a shirt and shoot Katy a text telling her you're on your way. It's a pleasant drive up to the Silverplex Cinema, though you feel yourself distracted. You're more pleasantly distracted during the movie by the way Katy keeps grabbing you at tense moments, so that you're nicely aroused by the time the movie is over, and you come real close to leaning over and nuzzling her while end credits crawl, but restrain yourself. Afterward you drive down to The Flying Saucer for a post-cinema snack and to talk about the movie, and other scary movies that you've seen. You part by telling her you'll text her after church on Sunday, to see about getting together to do something else.<br/>
<br/>
You make a point of telling all this to Stephanie when she texts you later that night to inform you that you'll be meeting at The Shed, a cafe in the tiny Acheson business district, but she only texts back an <i>ok.</i><br/>
<br/>
She's waiting out front the next morning when you arrive, and she gives you a look as you get out of your truck. "You drove?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. How did you get here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I jogged," she says. (But she looks pretty fresh.) "You don't live that far, Will," she reminds you, for you'd given her your address last night. You grimace at her back as she leads you inside. It's an old-fashioned cafe, the kind with a bar at the front with stools, but you settle into a booth in the farthest corner you can muster. Stephanie leans over the tabletop to address you in a low voice.<br/>
<br/>
"So I told you last night not to tell anyone about this," she says, "and I'm serious. Totally serious. I mean, my God, can you imagine what people could do with that book? Who'd be interested in it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like the CIA?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind the CIA. Think of terrorists. Criminal gangs. The kind of illegal shit you could get up to with it is—" She gives you a sharp look. "What were <i>you</i> planning to do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself pale. "Nothing! I mean, I hadn't even thought about it. I'm just, you know, curious about what all you can—"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Will," she says softly. "Well, anyway, don't tell <i>anyone.</i> Let's just keep this between us."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, then blurt out, "What do <i>you</i> want to do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
She rears back like she's been slapped. "I don't know! I mean, I'm just thinking how we can't let anyone know about it. That's the most—"<br/>
<br/>
She breaks off and licks her lips. "So one thing is," she says when she resumes, "is you don't do any more, like— You don't go <i>ambushing</i> people like Coach Schell anymore. Okay? I mean, Christ, what if you'd got caught?"<br/>
<br/>
"What if the next spell needs us to? Are you saying we can't?" You feel your heart sinking, for it sounds like Stephanie is going to try to take the book away from you. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, we can finish up the one you've got going. Any idea how long it's supposed to take?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "But as far as doing stuff with the book— Look, I thought you wanted to use voodoo against Hannah. So I thought you'd want to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," she breathes, and turns pale. She looks away, and her jaw works. You hold your breath. "Well, like what?" she says at last. "Are you saying you've got ideas?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Katy told me you had an idea about getting Hannah drunk, and getting her to make out with someone not her boyfriend. Maybe instead you could, uh, copy Hannah in a mask, then disguise yourself as her and go out in public and—"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie rears back. But it's like your tongue has a mind of its own, and another suggestion bubbles out.<br/>
<br/>
"Or you could gaslight her," you say. "Pretend to be some of her friends, get in fights with her, then they think she's crazy when she calls them on it afterward. Or, you want her to quit the soccer team? Pretend to be the soccer coach, yell at her, get her mad so she quits—"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," she says again. She's very pale—haggard, even—and breathing hard. You clap your mouth shut. The moment hangs.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," she says at last. "You're the one seems pretty bullish on doing any of these tricks. You wanna do one, fine. I won't stop you."<br/>
<br/>
You can't tell whether she's disgusted and wants you to recant your suggestions, or whether she wants you to do them and is afraid to say so.</span></div></div>


path: 111134414111122131222211213
author_id: seuzz
title: The Thing in the Basement
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You hesitate. All this stuff is new to Stephanie. Hell, it's new to you too. So with a shrug of your shoulders you try to indicate that you won't push anything.<br/>
<br/>
But deep down, as the waitress sets your food in front of you, you're thinking, <i>Let her get used to all this. Then we'll talk about gaslighting this Hannah girl. We'll get some masks of her girlfriends, she can help me with that, and then I'll—</i><br/>
<br/>
"What we need to do," Stephanie says, interrupting your thoughts, "is to move that stuff someplace safe."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Move what stuff? <br/>
<br/>
"The crap you've got in the basement. You don't want to get caught down there."<br/>
<br/>
"I won't get caught!"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you one of her patented looks, the kind that says <i>Don't be a moron.</i> "You've been lucky so far. You get busted, and you're looking at—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I can't move the stuff to my house!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know where we can put it. There's a vacant space next to my dad's furniture store."<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be trespassing too! And the elementary school is easy to get to, it's just down the road from where I live!"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your voice down. Look, lemme just show it to you. If you can come up with a better idea, we'll do it. But we have to move out of where you are now."<br/>
<br/>
You're even less happy when she tells you her proposed hideout is next to Argosy Furniture, which is practically in the middle of the downtown district, and that it would be hard getting in and out of it outside of business hours. But you agree to look it over, and you also agree to move the stuff out of the elementary school and into your truck at least until you can settle on a new spot. On the drive out to the school after breakfast, you tease her on your foresight bringing your truck to The Shed to meet her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The fire is out again, but you ignore the moldering pile of dirt for the moment to concentrate on gathering everything else up. It makes for a jumbled heap: bags and canisters and boxes of chemicals and soils along with the grimoire, the masks, and the containers of sealant and glue. But after transferring all that to the bed your truck, Stephanie crooks a finger at the dirt pile. "What about that? Think we can move it?"<br/>
<br/>
"How? Move the table it's on? The dirt by itself is four hundred pounds, and I don't want to risk messing it up."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we could start over again?" Stephanie rubs her nose. "How long has it been cooking for?"<br/>
<br/>
"A week. I don't want to get more dirt."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie grimaces. "Thing is, it already looks ruined."<br/>
<br/>
You give it a hard look of your own. It has changed, and not in a way that suggests it's been improved. The berm has tightened up into a solid, log-like cylinder and acquired a grayish hue; in fact, it now looks more like a concrete support that's been laid on its side. But it is split up the middle at one end, and two other rents have opened farther up. <br/>
<br/>
You're not willing to give up on it yet, though. "Let's just burn it until it won't burn anymore," you say. "Then we can start over if it's fucked up." <br/>
<br/>
Stephanie shrugs. You fetch the lighter from the truck, where you'd already packed it, and set a flame to its center.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing happens. You set the flame lower, and when it doesn't catch, you wave it about, trying to find a spot where the fuel is still damp. Still nothing happens. You glance back at Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme see," she says, and takes the lighter from you. She can't get it to fire up either. "Do you think it's done?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I think I know how we can find out." You fetch the book from the truck and hold your breath as you pull at the corner of the last open page. But it doesn't come away.<br/>
<br/>
"Here." Again, Stephanie has to make a go of it herself, also without success. She makes a face—showing her teeth—at the book and at the dirt.<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on, lemme try something." You take the book back from her and rest it briefly open-face down atop the solidified dirt pile. When you flip it back over, the troublesome page easily flips over. "You just gotta show it who's boss," you tell Stephanie with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"That's great," she says, "but what now?"<br/>
<br/>
You run a finger down the newly revealed text. "This should tell us what it does."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you read Latin?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but that's what an online translator is for. Get out your phone and I'll dictate."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But Stephanie turns out to be all thumbs at typing messages in, so you wind up doing it all yourself while she looks over your shoulder. Word by word, phrase by phrase, it emerges. You have to read it through a couple of times in order to fix the translation so that it makes sense. But when you're done, Stephanie stands back on her heels with wide, staring eyes. "That can't be right," she insists.<br/>
<br/>
"But that's what it says. And there's only one way to find out." You heart is beating hard with anticipation. "We'll use Coach Schell's mask. Go get it." <br/>
<br/>
But Stephanie looks too ill to move, so you make a third trip up to your truck. When you're back, Stephanie scuttles away to give you room to hazard the experiment. You sidle up to one end of the thing—the end with the onion-like blob, that looks sort of like a head, you now realize, same as the tear up the middle has created what look like legs, and the rents up the sides have separated out two rude arms—and place the mask on it.<br/>
<br/>
You know what will happen; the spell tells you what will happen, despite Stephanie's doubts that you've translated correctly. But it's still a shock when the mask and the thing you made vanish, and Coach Schell appears there in its place.<br/>
<br/>
It's a perfect replica of her: The upturned face is a little hard to make out on account of the angle you're looking at her from. But the flowing blonde hair; the curves of the shoulder and the bosom; the inward swoop of her stomach and the swelling of her hips; the strong thighs and calves; and the pert feet—it's all as you remember her being.<br/>
<br/>
It's an even greater shock when she frowns and opens her eyes. She looks over at you, does a little double take, and gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!"<br/>
<br/>
At first you think it's like a ventriloquist's trick: the coach's lips didn't move when she said your name. Then you realize it was Stephanie. A hand falls on your shoulder and wrenches you around. Stephanie's green eyes are shining hard and her lip is curled back in a slight snarl. "Maybe you better go wait upstairs," she says.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Upstairs?</i> You gape. Stephanie is trying to throw you out because the fake Coach Schell is <i>naked?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hey, she's <i>my</i> lackey!" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"She's no one's—! At least turn around!"<br/>
<br/>
"I've already seen what she looks like, Stephanie! Remember, I told you yesterday that I put the mask on!"<br/>
<br/>
"That was—! That was—!" She stammers and falls silent. Her eyes blaze.<br/>
<br/>
From behind you, a plaintive voice wails, "What the hell is going on? Stephanie?"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie pales. You whirl.<br/>
<br/>
The fake coach is sitting up and covering herself as best she can with her arms and hands and legs. "What's going on?" she asks again.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your name?" you demand. It's a stupid thing to ask, but you're stuck for a test question.<br/>
<br/>
"Cathy Schell," she says. "Stephanie, who is—? Where are—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where do you teach?"<br/>
<br/>
Her frown deepens. "Westside High. What's with all the—?"<br/>
<br/>
Her voice is drowned out by Stephanie's and then your own as you all start talking at once. You cut the coach off with a sharp, "Be quiet," then round on Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, we have to test it out," you tell her. "To be sure it's doing what it's supposed to do, and how far we can, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"How far?" Stephanie echoes. Her voice rises. "What the fuck are you planning to do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing! I don't know! It's supposed to be a lackey! That's what the book says!" You point at the grimoire. "Put a mask on it, and it turns into the image of the one in the mask and a lackey of the one who made it. Well, it sure looks like Coach Schell, but we should make sure that it's got the lackey part too!"<br/>
<br/>
"This is sick," Stephanie snarls. "Look at her! It's practically her! It's not a— a robot or whatever you thought it was going to be!"<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just test it out, okay? Then we'll take the mask off it if it's creeping you out so bad. I promise!"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie's mouth spreads into a sharp, wide rictus, but she says nothing. You turn back to the coach.<br/>
<br/>
But suddenly you're at a loss for ideas. "What should I tell her to do?" you ask Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
"Stand up," Stephanie orders the coach. But she only stares back with a terrified expression.<br/>
<br/>
But when you say, "Stand up," the coach lurches to her feet, her hands flapping to cover her private parts. "Jesus," Stephanie gasps. "We need to get her some clothes!"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll call that enough," you assure her. "Sit back down," you tell the thing. "Lay back down." The thing complies, and its terror seems to increase. But the emotion vanishes—along with the face itself—when you lay your hand on its forehead and rip the mask off.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie collapses against a table. "This is <i>really</i> creepy," she says in a quavering voice.<br/>
<br/>
"It's cool," you say. "Don't you see what we can do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can think of lots of sick things <i>you</i> could do with it."<br/>
<br/>
"There's sick things you could do with it too," you blurt out. Stephanie turns a bright red.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," you continue. "I showed you this stuff 'cos I want us to be friends. I'll let you do something with it, if you let me do something with it."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?"</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312222112131
author_id: seuzz
title: Where There's Another Will
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"We can make copies of ourselves," you tell Stephanie, "and use them to do all the stuff we don't."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie stares at you as though you're a madman.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you see?" you continue. "Like going to school or church or shit like that. We make masks of ourselves— I mean, we'd have to take turns sharing the thing, 'cos there's only one of them." The ideas are coming so fast you trip over them. "But we could send a lackey in to school or wherever to cover for us so we don't have to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," Stephanie says. "You want to skip <i>school?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
She grimaces. "Look, I don't mind skipping classes. But all my friends are there. I don't wanna skip out and miss them."<br/>
<br/>
Her objection stops you short. That's not something you'd thought of.<br/>
<br/>
"Besides," she says, "if you miss out on school, you'll be confused when you go back."<br/>
<br/>
"The lackey will tell you what you missed!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not the same thing, Will. What if something important happens and it forgets to tell you?" She puts a hand on her hip and gives you a very direct stare. "And school's not that bad."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe not for you," you blurt back. "Do you get hassled in the hallways by assholes?"<br/>
<br/>
She opens her mouth to reply, then closes it with a snap.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I bet you don't," you continue, and your neck gets hot. "Maybe you have guys hitting on you, I bet you've got <i>that,</i> but you don't have guys pushing you around or hauling you outside or—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" says Stephanie. "Who does that to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"The Molester. Lester Pozniak. David Kirkham. Seth Javits, though I guess he—"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait." Stephanie raises her hand. "Someone's <i>molesting</i> you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not sexually. That's just what we call him."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, Lester Pozniak. Lester the Molester. <i>Mo-Lester,</i>" you repeat.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie bursts out laughing. "That's good," she says, "but—" She catches herself, and looks you up and down. Her expression tightens. "Look, I'm sorry you get bullied, but even if you skipped, what would you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang out someplace?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not an answer, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Just let me try it out! We made the damn thing, we should get at least <i>some</i> use out of it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. You made it, it's your thing. But for now we need to get the stuff moved."<br/>
<br/>
"The lackey's too heavy to move."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie stares down at it, then looks back up at you with a smile you don't like. "Go home and get some clothes," she tells you. "Shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops will be enough."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I told you the thing-a-fuckie would come in handy," Will Prescott brags.<br/>
<br/>
"No you didn't," you retort. "I—"<br/>
<br/>
"He was talking to me, Will," Stephanie says. "Weren't you, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Damn straight," your doppelganger replies. "And wasn't I right?"<br/>
<br/>
"You sure showed me," Stephanie agrees.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, both of you," you growl. "Concentrate on the road," you order the thing that's driving your truck.<br/>
<br/>
You thought it was pretty cool at first, when the thing came to life again, only with your face instead of Coach Schell's. It took a couple of hours to get it set up, though, as you'd explained to Stephanie when she told you her plan for moving the lackey. You had a blank mask you could use on yourself, but you had to carve a set of runes into another brain band. <br/>
<br/>
While you did that at your house, she used your truck to drive the other stuff out to her dad's store. A little after lunch you met her at the school again with the makings of a complete "Will Prescott" disguise—mask, brain band, and clothes—and put them on the lackey. There was a little confusion at first, as the thing upon waking was convinced it was you and that you were it, but it only took a little argument, and the demonstration that he had to follow your orders while you didn't have to follow its, to straighten things out. It pleased you immensely at first as Lackey-Will unhappily did jumping jacks while you gloated <i>Make me</i> when it tried to order you to do the same.<br/>
<br/>
But then Stephanie started taking its side.<br/>
<br/>
It started with the clothes. You ordered it to get into the cheap shorts and shirt you'd brought for it, but Stephanie stopped you. "You put them on," she said. "Give him the clothes you got on."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you want it to <i>be</i> you, right? So give it—him—your clothes."<br/>
<br/>
Your doppelganger grinned as you buckled under and started stripping.<br/>
<br/>
Then when you demanded the keys from him—they were in the pockets of the jeans he was now wearing—Stephanie insisted that <i>he</i> should drive your truck if <i>he</i> was going to be you. And when Lackey-Will pointed out that it would look weird to see two Will Prescotts in the cab of his truck, Stephanie tried to force you to ride in the back under the tarp before grudgingly allowing you to crouch down in the passenger-side foot well.<br/>
<br/>
Even after you reach your destination, Stephanie tells you to stay in the car while she takes "Will" inside, leaving you to fume. It's fifteen minutes before she returns. <br/>
<br/>
Argosy Furniture is a giant second-hand furniture store occupying most of a city block in downtown Saratoga Falls. It's a three-story building of weathered brick that's a hundred and fifty years old, probably, with immense bay windows that glint over the sidewalk at the traffic that grumbles past on Borman. Inside, it smells of old wood and musty fabrics.<br/>
<br/>
"I got the other guy through without running into anyone," Stephanie mutters at you as she winds her way past dining room sets and living room sets. "So if we run into anyone, just be yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," you grumble back. "But how'm I to get my lackey out of here for school on Monday? What time does this place open?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ten, but your twin and I already set it up." You do a double take at her words. "We'll take him out of storage on Sunday afternoon before closing time. He'll go home and be you, then go to school the next morning."<br/>
<br/>
"And where will I be? Sleeping here?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you'll spend the night with Caleb, and drive in with him Monday morning. Your other guy will leave the keys to your truck under the floor mat so you can take off as soon as you get to school."<br/>
<br/>
"What if Caleb doesn't want me spending the night?"<br/>
<br/>
"We already set it up. Will texted him and Caleb's okay with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, now he's 'Will', is he?" you snap at her.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." Stephanie flashes you a grin. "I really like him. He's twice as smart and not half the wanker <i>you</i> are."<br/>
<br/>
You clench your fists.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie leads you through an office complex in the back and down a maintenance hallway that seems to run the length of the block. She stops before a metal door and glances around before sliding a key into the lock and opening it. She hustles you through and shuts the door. It's pitch black until she switches on the light.<br/>
<br/>
It's a small room, dusty and bare, with three yawning doorways leading out. She pushes you through one and flicks on another light. The room beyond is also bare but for a long table, on which rests the sacks containing your work material. You do a double-take at a stone pylon in the corner: the lackey, disencumbered of a mask.<br/>
<br/>
"So, this is where we'll keep things," Stephanie says. "I'll make you another key so you can get in. If anyone ever tries to stop you from getting back here, tell them you're looking for me."<br/>
<br/>
"How did <i>you</i> get a key?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lifted it off my dad, copied it. You're not the only one who likes getting into stuff, you know. Here's your clothes." She picks up a bundle from the table and thrusts it at you. "I'll be waiting outside while you change." She's gone before you ask her why it's okay for her to look at your naked doppelganger but not your naked self.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She wants you to take her home after that, but you're in a rebellious mood. And besides, you point out, if this is going to be a workspace, you should try it out. She grimaces but accedes, and tells you to keep out of sight while she gets a ride from someone else. <br/>
<br/>
You spoke more out of spite than a genuine desire to do some work, though, and after twenty minutes of polishing a new mask, you're bored.<br/>
<br/>
So you pop your mask onto the lackey. His knees briefly buckle before he catches himself. "Whoa," he says. "Is it Sunday already?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's still Saturday. Thirty minutes after you left us."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's up?" His face falls as you thrust the polisher and the mask at him. "Jesus! Stephanie's right, you are an asshole."<br/>
<br/>
"Did she call me that?" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"No," he admits. "So what are <i>you</i> going to do? Polish yourself while I polish the mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm going to study up on the next spell." You throw the tatty shorts and t-shirt at him, then curl up on the floor with the grimoire and your cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Twenty minutes later, your twin shuts off the car buffer. "What's wrong?" he says. "Translator won't work?"<br/>
<br/>
You wish it were. Instead, you've found the next spell all too easy to translate.<br/>
<br/>
It's practically a duplicate of previous spell, which made the lackey. There's only one difference: Instead of four hundred pounds of graveyard dirt, it calls for forty.<br/>
<br/>
And it also calls for a human being. To be set on fire along with everything else.<br/>
<br/>
You doubt Stephanie would go along with that. Maybe this would be a good time to distract her with that "gaslighting" idea you had earlier.</span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122221121312
author_id: seuzz
title: Popular Settings
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>In the time it takes you to carve the runes into a single brain band, your double finishes polishing all the masks. Instead of continuing to work, though, you shut things down and go home. No one stops you on the way out as you exit through the furniture store.<br/>
<br/>
You get your weekend homework done while fielding texts from Caleb, Katy, and Stephanie. Caleb wants to know what you're doing Sunday afternoon. Katy wants to know the same thing, while Stephanie wants to get the key to the new hideout back from you so she can make a duplicate. You mention to her that Katy is looking for something to do, and she quickly texts back that Catherine Muskov, one of the popular girls at school, will probably be hosting an impromptu party, and that you and Katy should try to show up there. <br/>
<br/>
<i>who else be there?</i> you ask, thinking of possible people to copy for a gaslighting attack on Hannah. Stephanie shoots back a list of names, many of which you recognize only as names, not as faces. But one jumps out—<i>mehgan</i>—before Stephanie winds things up with, <i>lotsf pepople w be three jst shpw up.</i><br/>
<br/>
You propose Catherine's place to Katy, and she thinks that's a great idea; and you also propose it to Caleb. He's slower to reply, and when he does he asks, <i>what's the attraction?<br/>
<br/>
girls u idiot,</i> you reply. <i>COME ON!</i><br/>
<br/>
Another long pause, and you can practically hear the tired sigh in his reply: <i>ok text me tomorrow abt it</i>.<br/>
<br/>
You fall asleep thinking about girls, and you dream about girls too. Girls in tight, hip-hugging shorts and breasts that strain against athletic tops; girls showing flushed thighs and arms and throats. You don't remember any faces in the dream, and the bodies aren't so distinct that you recognize them. But you have the very strong impression that you know them.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're antsy all through church—but you always are—and once it's over you race out to the car with your phone to start a round of furious texting. It continues, except for a break for lunch, until around one-thirty, when plans get nailed down. You will rendezvous at three o'clock at Catherine Muskov's with Caleb and Katy; but first you will meet Stephanie to get that key copied.<br/>
<br/>
"So I stayed late yesterday and made another mask," you tell her while the locksmith is in back running the key through his machine. "My, uh, twin helped me out."<br/>
<br/>
"That's great, I guess you're getting some use out of him," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"So, now I've got this new mask, and ... " You trail off, and watch Stephanie closely for her reaction. She stares off into the back of the shop for a moment, then turns to give you a blank, expectant look. "And I figure we could get some use of it, too," you lamely conclude.<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, the thing you're doing with Hannah. Remember we talked about that? I was thinking we could, like, copy one of her girlfriends, stir up some trouble between them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?" she repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you admit. "We'd have to get inside her, uh, her brain, see what kind of trouble we could make. Like starting fights about something. Maybe we could pretend that the girl is jealous of Hannah's boyfriend? Start a fight over him? Maybe one of them is." You shrug. Stephanie's expression remains very taut.<br/>
<br/>
"Thing is," you continue after taking a deep breath, "I don't know this Hannah girl, so I don't know who her friends are, who we could, you know—"<br/>
<br/>
"You keep saying 'we', Will. This thing we got going with Hannah, it's not really any of your business."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I want to help. Can't I help? I mean, I know I'm not ... <i>friends</i>"—you gulp out the word—"with you and your friends. I mean, I guess I'm not. Am I?"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie doesn't reply. The locksmith returns with the key and its copy, and she pays him. Out in the parking lot, she dons her sunglasses, gives you the copy of the key, and looks away.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, it's not a club," she says. "You don't have to fill out an application. I'm not saying you're not a friend. I'm not saying anything. But we've got guy friends who aren't part of this, even the ones who know about it. Oh, and by the way, I really wish you wouldn't say anything about it."<br/>
<br/>
"I won't. I mean, I haven't."<br/>
<br/>
She grunts, scrapes the back of her hand across her nose. You tense as you wait for her to speak.<br/>
<br/>
But when she speaks again, she just says, "I'll see you at Catherine's."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The Muskovs don't live in the toniest part of town, but they live in a very nice neighborhood in a large house with plenty of parking. That's good, because there are lots of cars on the street when you pull up. <br/>
<br/>
The door is opened by two giggling girls who are leaning against each other to keep from falling over. They look familiar, but you can't quite place them, and they don't seem to recognize you. "Oh hey," the blonde one says. "Come on in."<br/>
<br/>
"Is Katy here yet?" you ask. "Katy Conlee?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, she's upstairs. Oooh!" The blonde one seems to see you for the first time, and her eyes go very wide. She grins, and pinches her friend in the side. "She's upstairs," she tells you again over the other girl's squeals.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks." You glance around, and move toward the staircase while trying not to blush. It's hard, especially when the other girl bursts out in shrill laughter a few seconds after your back is turned.<br/>
<br/>
There's a broad hallway at the top of the stairs, but it's not so broad that three people, standing in a knot, can't clog it. One is Fred Hildown, a tall, good-natured kid who like Catherine is on the track team. You don't know the other guy, but he's in shorts that show off thighs knotted with muscles, and he's got his deep chest thrown out, so even though he doesn't throw you to the floor and give you a wedgie, you're pretty sure he's a jock. Like Meghan Velasquez, who they're talking to, they're holding and drinking from plastic tumblers. Fred nods at you with a "Hey Will," and Meghan smiles brightly as you squeeze past them.<br/>
<br/>
Girls' laughter floats out of a bedroom, and inside it you find Katy and half a dozen other girls, including Catherine Muskov herself. She's a tall girl with a mane of brunette hair that falls softly to her shoulders, and a calm, merry expression. She's in shorts and a tank top, showing off long, strong limbs—much like the limbs you dreamed about last night, you realize with a start. Just the kind of limbs you'd like to find embracing you.<br/>
<br/>
But it's Katy who surprises you with a quick hug. She springs over from the windowsill and gives you a quick squeeze. "Hey, you found it," she says. "You know Catherine?" She turns to your hostess. "You know Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Will," Catherine says. Her eyes glint in a friendly way. "You've been out before, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, no, I don't think so."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes flit around the room. You recognize most of the girls, but you never talk to them, let alone hang out with them, for they're of the athletic/popular sort. "I don't know," you say. "Just haven't."<br/>
<br/>
"Catherine has parties all the time," one of the girls says. "Just start showing up."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have them <i>all</i> the time," Catherine protests. "But you got someplace I can text you?" she asks you, "for the next time I have one?" <br/>
<br/>
You give her your contact info, then nervously add, "My friend Caleb's going to show up, if that's okay."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't know why it wouldn't be," Catherine says.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on," Katy says, "I'll take you downstairs, get you a snack or something." She squeezes your forearm briefly, sending shivers all over your body, and draws you out into the hall and past that blockade. At the head of the stairs she glances back, then snuggles close to you. "Is it on account of Meghan you asked your friend out here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." You gulp.<br/>
<br/>
"That's great," she says, and squeezes your hand again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And it seems pretty great for everyone as the afternoon progresses. Caleb arrives not long after you do, and you and he and Katy and Meghan wind up down in the living room with a mess of other people from school, sprawling on the floor and sofas while the TV shows a football game for the more jock-like guys (who are actually pretty friendly with you) while everyone else consults their cell phones and passes them around to share videos and memes and social posts. It's all tremendously casual, with girls draped across and over guys and guys leaning against girls. So it's nice—though you guess it doesn't mean much—when Katy props up against you and accepts your arm around her torso.<br/>
<br/>
You draw her out in gossip, and because there are several other girls nearby who are part of her and Stephanie's group, you soon get an earful about Hannah and the girls who supports her. Despite Stephanie's chilly attitude, you privately jot down three names of girls who would be promising as "gaslighting" impersonations.<br/>
<br/>
Tara Weston is another troublemaker on the soccer team, a rival of Anita Nuevo's, and she backs Hannah in everything Hannah puts her mind to. Anne Starkey is a long-time friend of Hannah's, and was one of the first girls to welcome her to Westside when she made the move. And Jenny Taylor, the captain of the Eastman girls' varsity soccer team, is another good friend of Hannah's.<br/>
<br/>
You're chewing on this information when Stephanie arrives. Or maybe she's been here for awhile and you've just not noticed her, for she comes charging downstairs. She stops cold, her face very red, when she sees you. To your disquiet, she summons you over with a jerk of her chin.<br/>
<br/>
"That thing you were talking about earlier," she mutters at you angrily when you're alone in the laundry room. "If you're gonna do it, do it as Catherine."</span></div></div>


path: 111134414111122131222211213124
author_id: seuzz
title: Doubles and Double Dates
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What happened?" you ask Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
She glares past your shoulder into the hallway. "You can do whatever you want, Will. I'm just telling you that if you do something—"<br/>
<br/>
She catches herself, and darts you a piercing look. "That thing you made. It obeys you, no matter whose, uh, mask you put on it?" she says. You nod. "So if you put a mask of Catherine on it, you could make it, um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, if you want it to do something to Hannah, I can, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie nods. "Then you want to help? That's a way you can help." From the way her jaw works you can tell she's clenching her teeth.<br/>
<br/>
She still hasn't explained why she is now so hot to let you help, and to use the lackey to do it, but you don't press her. But you do point out some of the complexities.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I've got a mask made, readyto use, but I don't have it here," you tell her. "I'd have to go get it and come back. And putting it on someone is, well, kind of tricky."<br/>
<br/>
"How so?" Stephanie's voice is very hard.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like I explained, you have to get it onto their face. Like, uh, this." You mime pushing a mask into Stephanie's face. "And then it knocks them out for about ten or fifteen minutes or so. Like, totally knocked out. They're breathing, but you can't wake them up."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you get the mask off them, wake them up that way?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, because it goes right inside them. Like, it completely vanishes. You have to wait for it to come out. And after that they're still asleep and it's another ten or fifteen minutes before they wake up. So you have to get them by themselves."<br/>
<br/>
"How'd you do it with Coach Schell?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself blushing. "I found her in her office. I showed her the mask and I pretended like I found it. Then I just sort of, uh, shoved it at her. I snuck out afterward before she woke up."<br/>
<br/>
You expect Stephanie to act shocked, but she only chews her lip.  "And," you add, "if we're going to send the lackey out, we need some clothes."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you can leave it to me. I'll get the mask done, get some clothes together. When I'm ready we'll meet up at my pop's store and get the thingie ready."<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't have to be Catherine," you tell her. "Katy and Meghan were talking about Hannah, and it seems like there's some other girls—"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie shakes her head. "Let's do Catherine."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, any reason in particular?"<br/>
<br/>
"She just pissed me off, is all." Stephanie stalks out of the laundry room. A moment later, you follow.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's closing on five o'clock, and some people are talking about ordering pizzas in. But one thing leads to another, and instead you and Caleb along with your ... girlfriends? is it possible? ... go out to eat at Cluck-for-a-Buck, a local KFC knockoff. There's another couple with you: Or, at least, they're as much of a couple as you and Katy or Caleb and Meghan are a couple, you suppose. Joel Wharton and Mandy Tiller aren't holding hands or embracing, but they seem pretty comfortable brushing up against each other.<br/>
<br/>
Joel is that guy you saw in upstairs hall with Fred and Meghan. He's on the track team, though he looks more like a wrestler. He's bluff and gruff and has an intense gaze, and you can't shake the feeling that, if he wanted, he could kick your feet out from under you and pin your shoulders to the ground while holding (oh, say) a triple-scoop ice cream cone in each hand without dropping anything. But though he doesn't smile he seems friendly enough. After awhile you notice that he doesn't curse, not even a "heck" or a "darn." An explanation, perhaps, emerges over a greasy meal of fried chicken and fries when Katy casually reveals that his dad is the pastor at the Tenth Street Assembly of God.<br/>
<br/>
Mandy is the not-blonde girl who opened the door to you when you arrived. She's a softball player, but other than being an athlete she's the opposite of Joel. She has long brunette hair; his blonde hair is closely cropped. She is small and bosomy, with a pronounced hourglass figure; he is burly. She's a smiler, a gusher, a giggler, and a chatterbox; he mostly confines himself to grunted answers. She wants to know all about you and Caleb; he only asks a handful of questions. But though Joel leaves the interrogation to Mandy, he listens with an intensity that suggests he's filing away not only every answer, but even your stammers and pauses. Between Mandy's talking and Joel's listening, you're soon exhausted.<br/>
<br/>
"We gonna head over to my place after this?" Caleb asks you when the meal's over, and the girls—to your mild astonishment—have excused themselves <i>en masse</i> to the restroom. You stare at him until you remember that you're supposed to stay at his place tonight and ride in with him to school in the morning.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't have to do that until later," you reply. "Don't you want to—" You glance at Joel, but he's occupied with his cell phone. "Hang out with Meghan a little longer?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "You wanna hang out with Katy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I'm supposed to meet up with Stephanie in a little while. Um, a school project we're coordinating on," you add as his eyebrows go up.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, whatever," he says. You glance again at Joel. You're dying to know what Caleb is thinking of Meghan—she seemed to be hanging on his every word over dinner, and at Catherine's she treated him like an easy chair as they shared cell phones back and forth. But you don't want to say anything in front of him.<br/>
<br/>
You're rescued from an awkward silence by the girls returning. Your company drifts into the parking lot, and when no one can come up with any compelling ideas for an activity, you break up into pairs, with you driving Katy back to her house.<br/>
<br/>
"Mandy liked Caleb," she tells you when you're in the cab of your truck. "If he's going to ask her out on, you know, a date, he should do it pretty soon."<br/>
<br/>
The near-wreck you suffer on the road—almost rear-ending the car in front of you—is nothing on the screeching, crashing, clattering collision inside your head. Thought one: <i>Really? People are seriously thinking Caleb and Meghan as a couple?</i> Thought two: <i>Are you telling me this because you want me to tell Caleb?</i> Thought three: <i>Are you telling me this because you want </i>me<i> to ask </i>you<i> out on a date?</i> You mumble something, and when Katy asks you to repeat it you say, "I can mention it to Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"It was fun today, right? Catherine has people over all the time. So, you know—" She squeezes your arm. "You don't have to be shy about dropping in."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not my usual kind of crowd, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like how not?"<br/>
<br/>
"All kinds of ball players." You glance over to find her beaming at you. "I'm not a jock."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a goose, Will. No one cares."<br/>
<br/>
Yet you have to wonder: <i>If no one cares, why did it matter that Mandy liked Caleb?</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Stephanie texts you just before you drop Katy off, and orders you to meet her at her house. She's waiting out front, and leans into the cab to press a bulky plastic bag into your hands. <br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna have to hurry," she tells you. "I can't go with you, I'm stuck here. But tell the, uh, thing, when it's ready, to come out here. Oh wait, you're gonna have to drop it off, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess. But I'm supposed to stay over with Caleb tonight, remember? And my twin was supposed to go home instead of me, and go in for school for me tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm. I forgot about that." Stephanie rubs her nose. <br/>
<br/>
The front door opens, and a skinny man in cut-off shorts steps out and calls her name in a sharp voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Coming!" Stephanie yells back. "Look," she tells you, "I'll leave it up to you, okay? Put Catherine's mask on the thing and send it here, or put your mask on it and do whatever. But either way, you're gonna have to hurry. Text me when you decide." She pats the side of your truck and hustles back indoors. You stare after her until the front door shuts, then put your truck in reverse and back out into the street.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Argosy Furniture looks like it's about to close when you arrive: the showroom lights are dim, and the place feels deserted. But the times on the window tell you that you've got thirty minutes or so. You scurry through the back offices and into the hideout without meeting anyone.<br/>
<br/>
From the bag you unpack a mask and a set of clothes: gym shorts, a tank top, flip-flops, and some underthings. The first thing you do is seal up the mask—the brain band is already attached to its inner surface—and study Catherine's name. All you have to do is put the mask onto the lackey, give it the clothes to put on, and you'll be on your way, and you'll have shown Stephanie that you're to be relied upon.<br/>
<br/>
Or you can put your own mask on the lackey and have it drop you off near Caleb's house while it goes home for you and covers for you at school. That was your original plan.<br/>
<br/>
But then a variation occurs to you: Send a copy of yourself to stay over with Caleb, and <i>you</i> put on Catherine's mask. That way you and Stephanie are both happy. Why didn't she think to propose that?<br/>
<br/>
Oh, right: Probably because she wouldn't like the idea of <i>you</i> inside Catherine's body.<br/>
<br/>
Which means that if you do the latter, you would have to pretend to be the lackey and <i>not tell Stephanie who you really are.</i></span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312222112131243
author_id: seuzz
title: The Fake Fake
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You heft the mask thoughtfully. If you put it on, it won't be the first time you've gone out in disguise. You spent an afternoon as Coach Schell, after all, and pretended to be her with other people, including Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
But this feels different. This is a schoolmate, and if Stephanie finds out what you've done ...<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ah, fuck it.</i> Playing it dangerous with Stephanie just might be half the fun. <br/>
<br/>
You strip off your clothes and, shivering hard against the chilly air and the cold concrete floor, you stretch out on the ground and drop the mask onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
A heavy warmth spreads through your limbs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're woken by a horrible nausea, and you quickly roll over onto an elbow as your guts roll up into the back of your throat. You're shaking all over with cold, and your head spins. <i>The fuck?</i><br/>
<br/>
You brush your hair out of your face, but aside from that you hold very still until your guts have calmed down. But hard goose bumps race up and down your body. It feels like you're inside a freezer. That must be why you feel so sick. Ever since you were a little girl, the cold makes you want to throw up. <br/>
<br/>
You cradle your stomach and think to yourself: <i>Oh my God, did I just remember being a little girl?</i><br/>
<br/>
Yes you did. Because you've now got tits.<br/>
<br/>
Big ones, too. Great bags that hang down, aiming their rock-hard teats at the icy concrete floor.<br/>
<br/>
You gulp, and push back the soft hair that has again fallen into your face. And when you think of what else you've got, those goose bumps harden and prickle all over.<br/>
<br/>
You clamber to your feet and clasp your arms against the cold. <i>Clothes. There are clothes around here, right?</i> The light is gray and dim, and you have to squint to bring anything into focus. <i>Shit. Your contacts.</i> Catherine isn't blind, but she's pretty damn near-sighted. But you find the bag and pull out the clothes. They must be Stephanie's, because you don't recognize them. They're skimpy, too, just some running shorts, panties, and a t-shirt, and no protection against the chill. There's not even a bra—the hell?—and your breasts droop and rub uncomfortably against each other inside the shirt. The sooner you get out of here, the happier you'll be.<br/>
<br/>
Not until you've dropped the "Will Prescott" mask onto the lackey do you stop to wonder how the thing will know to obey you—or if it will obey you at all.<br/>
<br/>
Your duplicate does a double-take and scrambles up and backward onto his elbow when he sees you. "King Hell?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
You put your finger—a long, slim thing with a curved, manicured nail—in his face. "Listen, I don't want any shit from you, okay? I'm you, got it? I mean, I'm Will Prescott. The real guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," he says, and looks you up and down with a hungry expression. "I don't know why you want to say that, babe, considering you look like—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm wearing a mask, okay? You know how those work."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, sure." He licks his lips.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't make me take it off to prove it to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, neither of us wants that." He leans forward and strokes your arm, and you jump back with a little squeal. "Come on," he grins. "As long as you're looking like that, you and me could at least—"<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you so disgusting?"<br/>
<br/>
He sniggers. "Ask yourself that." Then he laughs. "Oh come on, boss. I'm just giving you shit. I knew it was you the moment I saw you."<br/>
<br/>
"You did?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." He shrugs. "Don't ask me how. I just knew. But, uh—" He stands up, and to your horror you see that his cock is fully rigid and blushing. "I'm not holding it against you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As he gets dressed, you explain to him what's going on. He smacks his lips over your impersonation plot. "Wish that was something I could do," he says. "Think maybe we could try that out? We could, like, try putting that coach's mask on me to see if I can wear it."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe one of these days," you tell him as you lead him out of the empty space and lock the door behind you. "Right now, you just need to remember that, uh, you're supposed to be me and I'm supposed to be your lackey." You hand him the key.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck me," he gasps. "No, seriously," he continues. "Fuck me. If I was your boss I'd—" He presses up close against you.<br/>
<br/>
You push him back. "Pretend you've got scruples."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind? You're gonna have to be more specific," he says, and puts his face into your hair. <br/>
<br/>
You shove him back more firmly. "You don't want to take advantage of me," you tell him, and you hate the prim tone that has crept into your voice. "You're just going to drop me off at Stephanie's, like she asked, then drive out to Caleb's to spend the night. Oh, and you're going to go in to school tomorrow for me."<br/>
<br/>
"You're as bad as Dad," he grumbles. "Go to school and don't have fun."<br/>
<br/>
He tries to chatter on the drive out, but you make him be quiet as you try getting more firmly into character. <i>I'm Catherine Muskov,</i> you remind yourself, and that part of it isn't hard to keep straight. It's knowing—remembering—that you're a fake that is going to be the challenge.<br/>
<br/>
So, you woke up in a dark, abandoned storefront next to Argosy Furniture, you tell yourself. You were cold and nauseous and confused. That much is easy to remember, as it it's the truth. But you were even more confused, you explain to yourself, because Will Prescott was leaning over you and leering.<br/>
<br/>
<i>No,</i> you correct yourself. He wasn't leering. He was just looking at you. Which was kind of creepy, but—<br/>
<br/>
But you knew who he was. That surprises you a little: Catherine Muskov knows who you are, and she knew who you were even before you showed up at her house. She even knows who Caleb and Keith are. <i>What's so funny about knowing who people are?</i> a little voice inside you says. <i>It's not hard.</i> Maybe not for Catherine, you reflect, even if she's got people coming and going through her house all the damn time.<br/>
<br/>
You're caught short as you suddenly remember the afternoon from her point of view. You showed up uninvited, which felt funny to you, but it didn't seem at all funny to her, since her friends are always bringing random people over to her place to hang out. And it wasn't so random in your case, since Stephanie had told Catherine that you and Caleb would be coming over to hang out with Katy and Meghan, on account of—<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie had shrugged at that point, which was just the point that Catherine got interested. "Katy and Will?" she asked. "Did you put them together?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm just keeping an eye on them." She wouldn't say any more than that, even after Catherine has pressed her. So Catherine had found Mandy at some point in the afternoon—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck!</i> Catherine's the one that got Mandy interested in you and Caleb, got her to follow you out to dinner, to talk to you, feel you out, figure out what kind of a guy you (and Caleb) were, to see if it looked like you and Katy (and Caleb and Meghan) would go good together. And the texts she sent back—<br/>
<br/>
You feel for your cell phone, then grimace when you realize it will be with the real Catherine. It's like having your arm cut off.<br/>
<br/>
"You okay over there?" Will asks, and you realize you've been groaning and clutching your head.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine," you say, and straighten back up with a sigh. "Just thinking things through."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? What's there to think about?"<br/>
<br/>
You give him a sidelong look. "You and Katy." You can't help smiling a little as his cheek pales. "Go looking for her at her locker tomorrow," you order him, "and ask her to go out with you Friday night. Dinner and dancing."<br/>
<br/>
He gasps. "I can't dance! You know that!"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter. She won't care. And besides, on Friday it'll be me, not you, with her, looking stupid on a dance floor. Just make sure that you ask her out, and that she understands it's dinner—your treat—and a dance club after that. I'll set it up so that you'll meet some people out there."<br/>
<br/>
"You will? How will you manage that?"<br/>
<br/>
You're about to reply that you'll just text some people and set it up so you and them will be at Legends that night. Then you remember that you're not Catherine Muskov. "I'll talk to Stephanie about it," you say. "Speaking of which—" You reach over tug at the phone in his pocket, and he jumps. "I should tell her we're almost at her house."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She's standing out front when the truck pulls up, and your mood darkens at the sight of her. The mood between you wasn't happy when you last parted.<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't look happy to see you either, and she brushes past you to lean in to talk to your doppelganger. "Everything go okay?" she asks him.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," he replies, and you cringe at how defensive he sounds, and at the way he curls up a little under her gaze. "Why wouldn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is she going to do what I tell her?"<br/>
<br/>
Will looks between you and her. "Hey Catherine," he says. "Do whatever Stephanie here tells you."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you say, boss," you reply, and give Stephanie your sweetest, most insincere smile.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122221121312431
author_id: seuzz
title: Confidence and Confidants
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Stephanie pulls you into the house and hustles you through the living room. You just have time to say "Hi Craig" to her sixteen-year-old brother (a junior at Westside) who is sprawling on the living room couch before Stephanie is dragging you upstairs and into her bedroom. She slams the door shut and turns on you with a feverish light in her eyes. You smile placidly back at her.<br/>
<br/>
"So how much did Prescott tell you?" she asks in a husky voice.<br/>
<br/>
"About what?" you ask, and fold your arms across your chest. It's the first time you've done this, and you get a thrill at the way they bump against your bust.<br/>
<br/>
"About what's going on," she says. "About—" Her voice turns huskier. "About what we're doing."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean how you're practicing black magic?" you retort before you realize what you're saying. The color drains from Stephanie's face. "I assume that's what you'd call it," you continue, having given Catherine's instincts their head. "Jesus, Stephanie, after what you guys did to Hannah at the party Saturday—"<br/>
<br/>
"That was just to freak her out."<br/>
<br/>
"And that makes it better, what you're planning to do now?" You give Stephanie a disapproving smirk. "What did she do to you to deserve it?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's a cunt," Stephanie mutters. She wipes her palms on the sides of her shorts and dodges your gaze. "She comes swaggering in like she's special shit and can just take whatever she wants."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Like Marc?</i> you almost say, but catch yourself. That was probably the comment that made Stephanie mad enough to copy Catherine for this "prank."<br/>
<br/>
Everything had been going great at the house—everyone was relaxed and hanging out, just the way Catherine liked it. Then she'd found Hannah's Tumblr post, with the photo of the garter snake she'd found in her bedroom. She showed the phone to Stephanie. <i>Which one of you guys snuck it in there?</i><br/>
<br/>
Stephanie flushed. <i>We didn't do it,</i> she said.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You sure? Seems like something you'd do.<br/>
<br/>
Not your business, Catherine.<br/>
<br/>
Then why'd you bring </i>your<i> business into </i>my<i> house?</i> Catherine sniffed.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Because it's the only time we— Psh!</i><br/>
<br/>
Catherine almost dropped it at that point—you can feel her regret that she didn't—but then she muttered, <i>Marc's gonna kick your asses if you're not careful.</i><br/>
<br/>
It was like putting a match to a Roman candle. <i>It's not his business either!</i> Stephanie had nearly shouted. <i>If he'd kept his stupid self out of the tryout—<br/>
<br/>
He's her boyfriend, Stephanie,</i> Catherine snapped, then added, more in mischief than because she thought it was true, <i>Is that what this is about? You're pissed he's going out with her instead of you?</i><br/>
<br/>
Stephanie had turned white, from her temples to her throat, and stalked out, leaving Catherine to wonder if maybe Stephanie really was jealous of Hannah's relationship with Marc Garner.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I don't want to fight," you tell Stephanie now. "I'm not even here, I'm not even the real girl, you know."<br/>
<br/>
As you say it, you put your hand out to stroke Stephanie's arm. She jerks away.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?" you ask. It's a stupid question, as you almost instantly realize. "Oh, it's because I'm not— I'm not real. Is that it?"<br/>
<br/>
"This is just really weird," Stephanie says. She hops onto her bed, and she still won't look at you. "Let's just hang out till tomorrow. Then we'll do the thing, and then it'll be over with."<br/>
<br/>
"Do what thing? Will only told me you want me to stir up some kind of trouble, but he didn't tell me what you want me to do."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie rubs her palms on her knees. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it. It'll have to be after school, I'll have to check and see, you know—" She shrugs. "What Hannah's doing and what's happening with her."<br/>
<br/>
"So what am I supposed to do till then? Where am I supposed to sleep?" You know what you want: to sleep next to Stephanie. "What am I supposed to wear?" You also know the answer you want to that: You want to sleep in the nude next to Stephanie. "And jeez, Stephanie." You cradle your boobs. "Couldn't you send a brassiere along with Will?"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie starts, and rakes her eyes across your rack. "I didn't have anything big enough for you. But can't you, like, go in a corner and turn off or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not a machine. I don't have an 'off' switch." You can't resist adding, with a giggle, "Just an 'on' switch. Michael knows where <i>that</i> is." That would be Michael Allen, Catherine's boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Stephanie mutters. "You're disgusting."<br/>
<br/>
"What's disgusting?" you cry out. "You've heard me talk like that before. Well, you've heard <i>the real girl</i> talk that way, I guess." You gasp at a sudden idea. "That's what we could do!" You leap onto the bed, and Stephanie shrinks back. "We could talk. Tell each other secrets." You giggle. "I could tell you all the things <i>the real girl</i>"—you crook your fingers around the phrase—"has never told you, and you could tell me—" You walk your fingers across the bedspread toward Stephanie's thigh, and she presses herself back, trying to get away from you. "All the things you never told Catherine."<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck would I do that for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because it wouldn't go any further than me. That's why you don't tell people things, right? 'Cos you're afraid they'll spread it around? That's why I keep some things back."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" Despite her guarded tone, Stephanie looks piqued.<br/>
<br/>
"Truth or Dare." you suggest. "Except I'll have to tell the truth. Will told me I have to do what you tell me anyway, so the dare part wouldn't have much of a point for me. But you—" You flick a fingertip across Stephanie's bare thigh, and she flinches.<br/>
<br/>
"Nnh. So tell me something you haven't told me," Stephanie says. "Something Catherine hasn't told me."<br/>
<br/>
"Pff. Fine. I will. But let's do it like Truth or Dare. We'll take turns. Okay? If it's going to be like a two-girl slumber party—"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me something."<br/>
<br/>
"Blurgh. Okay." You fall onto your side and stretch your legs out—<i>your long, strong, track-trained legs</i>—and wiggle your toes. "Danny Russo's brother, Charlie? You know Danny Russo, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lacrosse guy? Hyperactive?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's him. But his brother, Charlie, I let him— Well, I guess you could say I let him tittyfuck me."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug in the shocked silence that follows, and try to adjust your boobs, which without the support of a bra are dragging you down. When that doesn't work, you fall onto your back.<br/>
<br/>
"When was this?" Stephanie finally asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, a couple of years back. It was before I moved here from Eastman. It was at a party, I had a couple of wine coolers and we wound up in a bedroom. It seemed like kind of a fun idea—"<br/>
<br/>
You break off as you remember Charlie looming over you. He was shirtless, showing massive pecs and shoulders and biceps. It was early autumn, but he was in shorts and flip-flops (until he peeled them off) and squatted over you, pushing his sausage-like cock between your boobs. He'd cum pretty fast, and left you even more quickly, leaving you to clean yourself up.<br/>
<br/>
"This was before you and Michael started—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, a long time before that. I never told him. I never told anyone. Except you, now."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie sucks in a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, my turn," you say. You half smile as Stephanie visibly stiffens, and you let her twist as you try to figure out something to ask. You settle on asking her about yourself—it'll seem like an easy, innocent question while actually being something you're interested in. "Your friend Will, and Katy. Why are you trying to set them up?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos Yumi asked me to."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that the only reason? You and him have this 'magic' thing going between you."<br/>
<br/>
"That's something different." Stephanie rubs her forehead. "I don't know how <i>that</i> happened. Will showed it to me. I think he was trying to impress me or something."<br/>
<br/>
The words bubble out of you. "Why? Do you think he's <i>interested</i> in you?"<br/>
<br/>
"God, I hope not."<br/>
<br/>
You feel the smile fall off your face. "Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's supposed to be interested in Katy."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all? He's not your type?"<br/>
<br/>
She sighs and rolls her eyes. "He reminds me of Craig, okay. Only stupider. Anyway, I guess it's my turn now." She cocks her head. "Have you ever cheated on Michael?"<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to recover from the shock of that "stupider" comment. You cover it by stammering, "What counts as cheating?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be smart. You know what counts."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, there was something I did early on, before it was really clear if we were, you know, going to be exclusive or anything. That's why I ask what counts as cheating."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes narrow. "What did you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I sucked off Luke Richardson." That's one of Michael's own friends—they're on the baseball team together.<br/>
<br/>
"This was at another party?" Stephanie asks. "Too many wine coolers?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, totally sober, down by the river. It was just us, and we were talking about— He'd just broken up with Sophie Van Den Berg, and I wasn't sure if Michael and I were really a thing. So it's like we were trying to make each other feel good. My turn?" <br/>
<br/>
Stephanie shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure where to take it. She might get suspicious if you continue to ask about herself. She might also get suspicious if you ask about Hannah.<br/>
<br/>
But you could you get her to open up more? And if she backed off, if she called for a "dare", could you use that as a way to get at least a little bit physical with her?</span></div></div>


path: 111134414111122131222211213124314
author_id: seuzz
title: Chances Taken
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You lean in on Stephanie. "Who do you really have the hots for?"<br/>
<br/>
It's an obvious question, so it's an innocent question, and so it's a question that Stephanie shouldn't freak out over. But it's one that could stir her up, get her excited; get her a little rowdy, maybe, and if you worked at it ... a little raunchy?<br/>
<br/>
She rolls her eyes. "What are we, back in middle school all of a sudden?"<br/>
<br/>
You giggle. "You play it so close, Stephanie. I have no idea who you like, or even what kind of guy you like. Isn't there anyone?"<br/>
<br/>
She sighs. "Dare."<br/>
<br/>
You groan. "Dares are no fun," you pout, "and I'm no good at coming up with any. At least, none we can do here when it's just us." Actually you can think of a dare that would involve just the two of you, but you judge it's too early for <i>that</i> kind of thing. "So I'll change my question. <i>Is</i> there anyone who gets you all, you know, twitchy?" You tickle her, and she jumps.<br/>
<br/>
"Dare," she repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, there <i>is,</i> isn't there?" you exclaim. Stephanie, who is already pink, turns a deeper crimson. "Why don't you want anyone to know? But you can tell <i>me.</i> I can keep it a secret, remember?" You grin at her.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie falls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. She pinches the bridge of her nose. She takes a couple of deep breaths.<br/>
<br/>
Then she says, "No. I can't say it out loud."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?" You suck in a sharp breath. "Is it a girl?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Wow!</i> If a look could scorch, the glare Stephanie shoots at you would have burnt your face off, mask and all! "No," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, don't take it like that," you laugh. "<i>I'm</i> never more than about four wine coolers away from making out with a girl at a party."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie's eyes widen. "Seriously?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and roll onto your stomach to give her a close stare. "Go on," you say. "Ask me." You grin. "That's my Dare to you. Ask me who I've made out with."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie's nostrils flare. "Who?" she asks in a croak.<br/>
<br/>
"No one!" You loose a gale of laughter into the room. "Never had a chance! But I would," you add more earnestly. It's not a lie, not exactly, you're putting into Catherine's mouth. "There wouldn't be as much pressure, you know?" You curl onto your side and hug your knees to your chest. Your bare legs are warm and smooth, and you thrill inside and out as you hug them. "I figure it would be hot, but alos kind of relaxing, more like a cuddle. Don't you ever want to do that? Just to cuddle with someone? To hold them and stroke them?"<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie's gaze goes distant. "Nnh. I guess when I think about it I go straight to the fun part."<br/>
<br/>
You suppress a little gasp of excitement. "Well," you drawl, "I guess it could go on for a <i>little</i> more than just a cuddle. Depending on how fun it was." You titter. "Your turn."<br/>
<br/>
But Stephanie says nothing, and continues to gaze past your shoulder. After a few minutes of silence, she stirs when someone downstairs calls her name. "Be right back," she tells you as she hops off the bed. But it's actually closer to a quarter hour, and her mood has cooled by the time she returns.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So that's the end of the game, and when she comes back she tells you to amuse yourself on her laptop while she checks her phone. She does join you, though, when she notices that you've logged in to Catherine's social media accounts, and she puts her arm around you as she leans in to run the cursor around the screen as she reads.<br/>
<br/>
"Lookit," she says, "Catherine's setting up a thing with the track and baseball teams for after school tomorrow. She'll be busy with them, so you can get together with Hannah then, maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"How will I do that?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you. "How would Catherine set it up?"<br/>
<br/>
It's a good question, and you mull it for a minute. Then you open up Snapchat.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie stops you. "Hang on, don't do it through Catherine's account. Do it through—" She wraps her arms around you and taps at the keyboard. "Here. This is a, uh, second account I keep. For special stuff."<br/>
<br/>
As she types, you reach up to lightly clasp and stroke her arm, letting go only when she straightens up again.<br/>
<br/>
"What should I tell her?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Just that you want to meet her. Tell her it's important, though, and, uh, kind of sensitive. Just you and her."<br/>
<br/>
"Where can we meet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Cherry Brook Bakery. It' just up the street from my pop's store."<br/>
<br/>
"And what am I supposed to do when we're together."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell you tomorrow. Just send her the invite now."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug, and lean in toward the laptop camera. "Hey Hannah," you say, speaking quickly so as to squeeze the full message into the tiny video snippet. "I'm gonna be at Cherry Brook Bakery tomorrow after school, could you meet me there around four, four-thirty? Just us, 'cos it's kind of sensitive. And don't tell anyone. Really." You flash a brief frown. "We need to talk."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie grunts over it, and forces you to record it a few more times until she's satisfied that your message will draw out Hannah without alarming her and causing her to say anything to the real Catherine at school. Then you send it. Your co-conspirator is looking a little pale in the face when you stand up.<br/>
<br/>
"It'll be okay," you tell her, and draw her into a light embrace. "I know I was kind of a bitch earlier about it all, but now I figure that if you're going to all this trouble to get back at her, you must a good reason." You stroke her back.<br/>
<br/>
If you thought your words would reassure her, you were wrong, for Stephanie looks even more stricken when you release her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
When it's time for bed, Stephanie changes into pajamas. She's not shy about disrobing in front of you, and you have to pretend very hard not to be interested as her shirt and shorts and underthings come off. She has strong, smooth limbs, and her flat, taut stomach faintly shows the lines of her abdominal muscles. After she's changed, she hands you a set of flannel pajamas. You pull off the skimpy clothes you've been wearing, enjoying the feel of the cool air on your breasts and hips, but are slow to put the other things on.<br/>
<br/>
"You know," you tell her as you unfold them, "I don't normally wear PJs when I sleep."<br/>
<br/>
"What, you sleep in the nude?" Stephanie replies as she pulls back the sheets of her bed. "I sometimes do too."<br/>
<br/>
"It's nice, isn't it? Just feeling the sheets against you. Do you mind if I, uh—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do whatever you want," she grunts as she slips between the sheets. "Come on, I have to get up early tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
So you slip into bed with her, with only her pajamas between you. She puts out the light, and for a long while you lay there listening to the sound of her breathing. Your heart works its way higher and higher into your throat.<br/>
<br/>
"You know," you finally croak out, "when I was talking earlier about ... cuddling?"<br/>
<br/>
A pause. "Uh huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'd kind of like it if— I mean, wouldn't it be fun if—"<br/>
<br/>
You break off at the long sigh that follows. "The hell is wrong with you?" Stephanie mutters.<br/>
<br/>
You wince, but persist. "Nothing. But I'm not real. You know I'm not. And—" You pluck at the side of Stephanie's pajamas. "It's like when we were doing Truth or Dare. We could tell each other things we'd never tell people, because it can't go any farther than us. Well, we could also—" You gulp. "We could also <i>do</i> things that—" You trail off as your words are swallowed into the oppressive silence.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to <i>do</i> anything," Stephanie says. Her tone is rough and impatient. "I'm not into that. It doesn't have any appeal for me." Under her breath she adds something that sounds like, "Especially not with a sex doll."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're exclusively interested in guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, pretty much."<br/>
<br/>
Still you press: "And even though it's dark in here, you can't close your eyes and pretend that I'm a guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm only interested in one guy." Her voice is strained. "And it's pretty hard to pretend you're him."<br/>
<br/>
It's a shot in a million, but you take it anyway: "It's not your friend Will, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
She snorts. "Oh, Jesus. Just shut up and go to sleep. Remember, you have to do what I say."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Stephanie is up early the next morning for a jog. You'd go with her—a first for Will Prescott though not for Catherine Muskov—but you've no running shoes, so instead you take a very long and soapy shower with lots of time to rub and finger yourself. After she's back and showered, Stephanie gives you a fresh set of gym clothes and also an old iPod Touch that used to belong to her older brother (now off at college) so you can keep amused during the day. She drops you off at Argosy Furniture on her way to school, and you make your way back into the workroom.<br/>
<br/>
It's not long before you're bored out of your skull. With nothing better to do, you pull out mask supplies and resume working on them. Six mind-crushingly dull hours later, you've completed and attached two more brain-bands to two more polished masks. Your only respite comes at around two, when Stephanie texts you with an alert: Her mother needs her to run errands after school, so "Will Prescott" will instead be meeting you at Argosy after your meeting with Hannah.<br/>
<br/>
With nothing else to do after finishing those masks, you return to the grimoire and study the new spell—the one that calls for a person to be set on fire. You're so bored that you can't help thinking about it, and how you might execute it.<br/>
<br/>
And who you might use when executing it.</span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312222112131243141
author_id: seuzz
title: Getting Hinky with Hannah Westrick
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>So the next spell uses a person as an ingredient. But it's not really asking for a human sacrifice. You're sure of that. Why would it? Probably it just wants to, you know, borrow some of the person's "life force" or something. Nothing bad would happen if you used, say, Hannah Westrick in the spell. Would it?<br/>
<br/>
Of course, if that were true you could use yourself in the spell instead of someone else. But just because you're sure the spell is totally safe doesn't mean that you're <i>stupid.</i><br/>
<br/>
You kill the rest of the afternoon by prepping the ingredients. Ten minutes after school lets out, you shoot Hannah another little video, asking her to meet you at Argosy Furniture instead.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey!" You give Hannah a wide smile and put your arms out for an embrace as she gets out of her car. Remarkably, she found a metered parking space on the street.<br/>
<br/>
Hannah puts out her arms, and you pull her into a close hug. She's a big girl—though not in a bad way—and fills your arms. She is very warm, too.<br/>
<br/>
Hannah Westrick is one of the stars of Westside girls' varsity soccer team. If you—that is to say, Catherine—were forced to confess, you'd say that she's the best player, and by a fair margin too. She's tall—almost six-foot—with strong thighs and calves and a build that manages to seem husky even while preserving an hourglass shape between her large bosom and her wide hips. You wouldn't want to see a girl that size charging across the field at you, whether the ball was between her feet or between yours. She wears her hair, which coils up in tight, frizzy curls, in a long, thick ponytail that trails almost to the small of her back. Her face is wide and flat and handsome. Maybe it's her size, and the mane-like shape of her hair, but there's something cat-like, even leonine, about her visage.<br/>
<br/>
"So you got changed in a hurry," Hannah says now. She pulls back but continues to stroke your back while smiling into your face.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Well, you know, couldn't wait to get comfortable. So how was your day?" You tuck your arm into hers and hold her hand as you lead her into the store.<br/>
<br/>
"God. Fuck. Excuse my language." She covers her mouth with her fingers as you almost run into a woman her small child just inside the front door. Into your ear she murmurs, "Would you talk to Dominique Hughes for me, please? I'd talk to her myself, but I can't even."<br/>
<br/>
"Why, what's she doing <i>now?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Hannah snorts. "Look, that shit she pulled at the party was one thing. You know I'm not blaming you for that, right? Where are we going?" she interrupts herself, and looks around.<br/>
<br/>
"A place in the back we can talk."<br/>
<br/>
"What was wrong with the bakery?" She looks around, as though she's just noticed what kind of store she's in. <br/>
<br/>
"There's more privacy here. You won't mind. It's kind of cozy." <br/>
<br/>
But Hannah stiffens as you pull her along toward the back offices. "What did you want to talk about anyway?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"That can wait 'til whenever." You squeeze her hand. "What was Dominique doing, like, today?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, well, you know that headscarf she wore to your party?"<br/>
<br/>
"The red one? Oh my God!" The words come blurting out before you can stop them. "If I thought I could pull off a look like that!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know, right?" Hannah squeezes your hand back. "That's only one of the reasons I friggin' <i>hate</i> her, because she can do that whole exotic gypsy thing—"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you notice she wasn't even wearing earrings the other night?" Still Catherine's thoughts come tumbling out of you. It's easier to give in to her excitement than to stifle and second-guess them. <br/>
<br/>
"What about her earrings?"<br/>
<br/>
"She wasn't wearing any. At the party. But didn't it seem like to you she was?" You cluck your tongue enviously. "Big, gold, hoop earrings, to go with the headscarf. You know, like a gypsy."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't notice, but why are you making a deal about—? Was she wearing earrings or wasn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "She wasn't, but it totally seemed like she <i>was</i>, right? It didn't seem like that to you? It did to me. I mean, <i>that's</i> how perfect that headscarf was for her, all by itself it gave her that totally exotic look like you were saying."<br/>
<br/>
"I that's why I hate her. She doesn't have to try to look great. I guess it's that Mexican-Indian look she's got," she adds with a cluck of her tongue.<br/>
<br/>
"She is half Hopi," you remind her.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, here's half hoping she dies in a fire."<br/>
<br/>
"Hannah!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry. No, I take it back, I'm not. What is this?" Hannah asks as you unlock and open the door to the abandoned store front.<br/>
<br/>
"It's the place. But what were you telling me about Dominique? What did she do today?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing. Just irritated the hell out of me." Hannah wrinkles her nose and clucks distastefully as you usher her into the dim, dusty room. "She wore that headscarf to school today, just to spite me, I think. I don't remember ever seeing her in it before, but today it was like every time I turned around I saw her out of the corner of my—" She trails off. "The hell, Catherine? Why'd you wanna come here instead of—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I wanted to show you this." You pick up one of the masks. "I didn't want to take a chance on losing it in public." You hand it to her.<br/>
<br/>
"What is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a mask, silly. A thing for Halloween. It needs some eyeholes punched into it, but otherwise it's, you know."<br/>
<br/>
Hannah turns it over a couple of times. "Okay, it's pretty cool, I guess. But come on, let's get out of—"<br/>
<br/>
"Try it on," you urge her. "I got it thinking it would suit your looks," you continue as she looks dubious. "With your hair—"<br/>
<br/>
You press up close and put your arms around her to pull at her ponytail, loosening it and pulling the strands free. You're close enough that you can smell her breath—cinnamon. Your lips twitch into a smile. You weren't lying last night when, as Catherine, you confessed to Stephanie that you were only ever a few drinks away from making out with a girl. You'd love to make out with Hannah. To open your mouth and take hers in yours ...<br/>
<br/>
You let go of her but you don't step back. "Try it on," you say. "Just put it up to your face." You grasp her wrists, and she only lightly resists as you push her hands to her face. "We'll take a picture and you'll see." You titter. "Maybe you'll look spooky enough we can send it around to freak out <i>Dominique.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
That turns the trick. Hannah lifts the mask to her face. It only touches it before it vanishes, and she sinks to the ground, taking you with her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You had two good reasons for forcing a blank mask onto Hannah. One was that you wanted to knock her out so you could perform that spell on her. Probably you couldn't have talked her into it! And Stephanie would probably dig having a copy of her nemesis—a bonus on the kind of trouble she wanted you to do anyway.<br/>
<br/>
But now you're really glad to have a copy of Hannah on hand. It turns out that spell was a lot hinkier than you were counting on.<br/>
<br/>
So while she was knocked out, you lofted her onto one of the tables, pulled her clothes off her—and found she's got a bush down below that almost's as much of a jungle as the one atop her head—and dumped the rest of the ingredients on her. You almost backed out at the last moment when you went to set a flame to her, for you remembered how long it took to "cook" the lackey, and it would be bad—for lots of reasons!—if Hannah Westrick was spread out, on fire, for the next week in the empty storefront next to Argosy Furniture. But then you reminded yourself that surely this new spell wasn't going to be a duplicate of the previous spell.<br/>
<br/>
Well, the good news is that Hannah wasn't on fire for more than half a minute, if even that. The bad news is that ... the new spell is pretty much otherwise a duplicate of the spell that made the lackey.<br/>
<br/>
The difference is that it has turned <i>Hannah</i> into a lackey.<br/>
<br/>
At least, that's what it looks like to you. You are cold with horror all over as you study her.<br/>
<br/>
She is the same color as the lackey, for a start—an off-white, like a water-stained marble statue. She is also stiff all over, though maybe her flesh yields just the tiniest little bit when you push a fingertip into her. But from the tips of her toenails to the tips of her hair, she really does look like she's been transformed into a statue.<br/>
<br/>
So it really is good that you've got a copy of her in the mask that you lifted off her face just before you put the match to her. All you have to do is put on the mask, put on the clothes, and Hannah Westrick can go home without anyone knowing anything happened to her. Or you can get your own lackey out here, put Hannah's mask on it and resume your own life. That would be quickest and easiest. And as for what to do with this thing you've made ...<br/>
<br/>
You jump as the iPod touch chimes. It's a text from Stephanie: <i>on my way twshop wehn u redy meet me thre.<br/>
<br/>
Shit!</i><br/>
<br/>
<b>Vote on where the story goes next:</b> "<a href="" target="_top" title="">Invalid Item</a>" <a target="_blank" title=""><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a> </span></div></div>


path: 1111344141111221312222112131243142
author_id: seuzz
title: Making a Mess with a Muskov
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>So the next spell uses a person as an ingredient. But it's not really asking for a human sacrifice. You're sure of that, at least. Why would it? Probably it just wants to, you know, borrow some of their "life force" or something. Nothing bad would happen if you used, say, Catherine Muskov in the spell.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, if that were true you could use yourself in the spell instead of someone else. But just because you're sure the spell is totally safe doesn't mean that you're <i>stupid.</i><br/>
<br/>
As you put the ingredients together, you try to figure out a way to get Catherine out to Argosy alone. The trouble is that Catherine hates to be by herself—she doesn't even like driving anywhere without at least one person in the car with her, and she prefers to be with two or three. <br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, you're wearing her mask as you work, so you're able to use her own brain to fashion a plan that would appeal to her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>hey this is will prescott,</i> you text Catherine shortly after school will have let out, using the iPod touch that Stephanie left you. <i>heard theres a thing happening after school?</i> Normally you'd never dare send even this kind of disguised self-invite to a girl you barely know, but at the moment you're not feeling very normal. (You smile to yourself as you brush a long, dangling lock of soft brown hair out of your eyes.)<br/>
<br/>
Two minutes later: <i>Hey Will that's right, meeting at Stewarts Hole. Woohoo. U should come.<br/>
<br/>
will katy b thr?<br/>
<br/>
Could be. Ask her.</i> A smiley emoji follows.<br/>
<br/>
You already shot Katy a text asking to meet her—and then texted your doppelganger to get the hell out of school without bumping into her—but you don't tell Catherine that. <i>Xlent will do.</i><br/>
<br/>
Then, after sending further instructions to your lackey, you stretch out on the table and remove Catherine's mask ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
... so that ten minutes pass in what feels like ten seconds, which is better than killing the time in any other way. You text Catherine with one hand while with the other you peel off the shorts and girl's underwear that Stephanie gave you for the Catherine disguise: <i>hey this is will again im stuck at argosy furniture could u cm pick me up?</i><br/>
<br/>
After another delay: <i>Sure, Michael and I can pick you up.</i><br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later—and dressed in the sloppy t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops that Stephanie lent to fake-Catherine—you're loitering in front of Argosy and anxiously watching for Catherine. There's a white pick-up truck parked across the street, and you scowl at the straw-headed kid who pokes his head up long enough to look around. Your doppelganger returns your scowl with an identical one of his own, and ducks back down again.<br/>
<br/>
An SUV finally pulls up, double-parking with the motor running in front of Argosy. The passenger-side window goes down and Catherine smiles out at you. "Hey Will, get in."<br/>
<br/>
But you stick your head through the window to address Michael Allen instead. "Hey man, can I borrow your girlfriend for a few minutes? Promise to give her back."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?" he asks. He's not a muscle-bound jock like most of the bullies at school, but he's got a broad, deep chest and meaty forearms, a product of working out for the school baseball team. Somehow his scruffy blonde hair, which he keeps jammed under a ball cap not unlike the one you affect, gives him a manlier look than you get from a similar 'do.<br/>
<br/>
"I got my truck working so I don't need a ride," you explain, "and I'm s'posed to pick up Katy. But, uh—" You turn puppy-dog eyes on Catherine. "Can I give <i>you</i> a ride out there too? Out to Katy's first, then out to the park?"<br/>
<br/>
A little light goes off behind Catherine's eyes—just as you knew it would. "Okay," she says, and turns to Michael. "Meet you out there in a few. Don't let— Mmph!" Whatever she was going to say is swallowed by Michael as he jumps in to kiss her. She murmurs something at him after they break off, then slips out of the SUV. You pretend not to notice the quick, hard glance that he gives you before driving off.<br/>
<br/>
"So what are you doing here?" Catherine asks as she follows you. "And where's your truck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Parking lot back of the store," you tell her. "I was doing a favor for Stephanie." <br/>
<br/>
"I don't remember seeing you around Stephanie much before," she observes. "Or Katy either."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt, and keep your answers brief and clipped as you hurry through the store. Catherine's doing exactly what you hoped—she's nipped at the prospect of talking pritavely to you about Katy, and your plans for and about her—but you're suddenly very nervous about what you're doing and what you're going to do, and if it weren't too late to change your story, you might back out. You were a lot braver while you were wearing Catherine's mask, and before you saw her boyfriend flex his fingers around the steering wheel when you asked to "borrow" her.<br/>
<br/>
Also, as you hurry through the cold furniture store, you're very conscious of just how skimpy your clothes are. Yes, Catherine, in her midriff-baring sports tee and hip-hugging jogging shorts, is just as underdressed as you, but it looks a lot better on her.<br/>
<br/>
Not until you're fumbling at the door to the empty storefront does Catherine ask again where you're going and what you're doing. "It's the thing I have to pick up for Stephanie," you explain. Your voice quavers; you hope Catherine puts it down to the chill in the air. "Some furniture. Oh, hey." You pretend to have surprised yourself as you pick up the mask you carefully set out on a table just inside the doorway. "There's this thing here I want to show you too." You raise the mask up, say "Oops" in a voice that is a trifle too loud, and fall toward her. It splats right into her face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So, slamming that mask into Catherine's face turns out to have been a really good idea!<br/>
<br/>
You assumed it would be—that's why you did it. But your first and only idea was that you wanted to knock her out so you could try the new spell on her. It's not like you could have talked her into laying on a table and letting you sprinkle chemicals over her before setting her on fire!<br/>
<br/>
But it was a bit of a gamble on its own. It wasn't one of the new masks that you put onto her, but the mask you've been wearing all day. You weren't sure what would happen if you put it back on her, but it did knock her out long for you to get her prepped for the spell.<br/>
<br/>
But now you've another reason you're glad you copied Catherine into a mask. It turns out that spell was a lot hinkier than you were counting on.<br/>
<br/>
So while she was knocked out, you lofted her onto one of the tables, pulled her clothes off her, and dumped the rest of the ingredients over her. You almost backed out at the last moment when you went to set a flame to her, for you remembered how long it took to "cook" the lackey, and it would be bad—for lots of reasons!—if Catherine Muskov was spread out and on fire for the next week in the empty storefront next to Argosy Furniture. But then you reminded yourself that surely this new spell wasn't going to be a duplicate of the previous spell.<br/>
<br/>
Well, the good news is that Catherine wasn't on fire for more than half a minute, if even that. The bad news is that ... the new spell is pretty much otherwise a duplicate of the spell that made the lackey.<br/>
<br/>
The difference is that it has turned <i>Catherine</i> into a lackey.<br/>
<br/>
At least, that's what it looks like to you. You are cold with horror all over as you study her.<br/>
<br/>
She is the same color as the lackey, for a start—an off-white, like a water-stained marble statue. She is also stiff all over, though maybe her flesh yields just the tiniest little bit when you push a fingertip into her. But from the tips of her toenails to the tips of her hair, she really does look like she's been transformed into a statue.<br/>
<br/>
So it really is good that you've got a copy of her in the mask that you lifted off her face just before you put the match to her. You've got a lackey waiting outside right now. All you have to do is get it in here, strip your mask off it, and put Catherine's onto it. <br/>
<br/>
Before you can pick it up, though, the iPod touch chimes. It's a text from Stephanie: <i>on my way twshop wehn u redy meet me thre.</i><br/>
<br/>
You cuss under your breath. Stephanie is counting on meeting the lackey-fake of Catherine, to ask about that meeting with Hannah.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit!</i> You completely forgot about that thing. You look at the time and see that it's too late to meet with Hannah now.<br/>
<br/>
And you've got the petrified Catherine Muskov to get rid off.</span></div></div>


path: 11113441411112213122221121312431422
author_id: seuzz
title: The Key to It All
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can worry about Catherine later. Right now you need to keep this mess under wraps from Stephanie. You throw yourself onto the floor next to what's left of Catherine and jam the mask onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your head is aching when you awake, and you're sick to your stomach with the cold. You glance around the dark room, wondering how you got on the floor and where Will Prescott scampered off to, but the confusion lasts only a moment. You rub your face and haul yourself to your feet. You squint at the blurry world and frown.<br/>
<br/>
Then you think: <i>My contacts.</i><br/>
<br/>
You make a face, and gingerly touch and pluck at the surface of your eyeball. Catherine's used to it, thank God; you yourself have never touched an eyeball directly, neither your own nor someone else's. But it takes you only a few seconds to grimly conclude that Catherine's contacts did not transfer into your own eyes when you put the mask on. So where are they?<br/>
<br/>
Your gaze falls upon the petrified Catherine Muskov. You bend over her face and peer into her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Something glints there, something you would have missed if you hadn't looked very closely.<br/>
<br/>
Carefully, holding your breath, you pluck her lenses out of her petrified eyes. They are still pliable, but too stiff to put into your eyes. She didn't bring her book bag in with her, so you don't have any contact solution. <br/>
<br/>
So you go looking for a restroom and a sink, which you find must off the Argosy back offices. You're rubbing your eyes, lubricating the water-wetted lenses with your own tears, when a voice behind you calls your name: "Catherine?"<br/>
<br/>
You shriek, jump, and whirl. It's Stephanie, standing in the doorways. "Jesus," she says. "Calm down. Where's Will?"<br/>
<br/>
You are breathing very heavily as you grip the sink behind you, and your heart is beating hard. In a whirl you wonder, <i>Does Stephanie think I'm the real Catherine? Does she know that I called her out here? Does she actually know it's </i>me<i>, and what I did to her friend?</i><br/>
<br/>
Stephanie frowns and snaps her fingers in your face. "Hey," she says. "You okay? You meet with Hannah yet?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hannah? Oh God!</i> You let out a deep breath. She thinks you're the lackey!<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, um, no, we weren't able to hook up," you say in a trembling voice. "We missed each other or something."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck." Stephanie puts her hands on her hips. "We can't try it again tomorrow," she mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"We can't?" you gasp. "Maybe we could?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know where to put you tonight. Shit." Stephanie sighs and falls silent.<br/>
<br/>
You can't find anything to say, so you jog from foot to foot until she looks up again. "Where's Will?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, I think he's out looking for a parking space," you improvise. "He dropped me off, sent me in here to wait for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's go put you away. We can't have you running around in case someone sees you." She gestures for you to follow. <br/>
<br/>
To your horror, you realize she's leading you back to the abandoned storefront, where the real Catherine is splayed out on a table.<br/>
<br/>
Five steps, ten steps, fifteen steps ... Your mind is a whirl-a-gig of terror as Stephanie advances on the door of doom. Words try to form in your throat, but you can't force them past a tongue that has gone thick and parched. Stephanie grasps the metal knob; a hoarse shout dies in your throat ...<br/>
<br/>
The knob rattles but refuses to turn. Stephanie jerks at it again, then grunts. "Got the key?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You almost faint, but retain enough presence of mind to pat at your pockets. "No," you lie. "Will forgot to give it to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind, I've got my own copy." Stephanie feels at her own pockets, then frowns and mutters. "In my bag," she says, and brushes past you back toward the furniture shop.<br/>
<br/>
You grab her by the arm. "Wait, I'll go find Will. We need to get together anyway, right? Be right back." Before she can argue, you sprint off back the way you came.<br/>
<br/>
At first you think that your doppelganger must have run off, when you don't see him behind the wheel of the truck. But it turns out that he's just ducked down in the cab, playing a mobile game on your phone, and he jumps as you throw yourself into the cab of the truck. "Hey babe," he smirks. "Got your thing done? 'Cos if you don't need me now, Caleb is talking about—"<br/>
<br/>
"I need your clothes," you snap, "and your face, too. My face, I mean. Take your clothes off!" you order as he gapes at you. He jerks into motion as you crouch in the passenger-side foot well and pull off your top and bottoms. You look up when your double makes a weird groan, and find him ogling you hard. His cock is rising like the spar of sailing ship as he twists himself out of his pants. He squeaks as you loft yourself onto him, pressing your boobs against his chest, and he goes stiff all over as you grasp his face, mutter some arcane words, and pull.<br/>
<br/>
When you settle back, there's a blob-like slab of rock bent between the driver's bench and the steering wheel. Your eye instinctively falls to the "crotch" of the thing, and are relieved to see that there's no bone-like spur sticking out of the thing's lap. <br/>
<br/>
You settle back into the foot well, and pull at your own face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're woken by an insistent ringtone, and raise a muzzy head to look around. The world is a blur, and your eyes hurt as though they've been scratched and gouged. You rub at them with the heel of your hand, but that only makes it worse. You fumble at the lumpy clothes on the truck bench until you find your phone, wrapped in a shirt. You have to hold it out very far from your face before you can begin to make out the text on the screen: <i>meet me n stor w kee,</i> it seems to say.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck.</i> You'd much rather rack out in the truck for a few more minutes of sleep—maybe your eyes are hurting because the phone woke you up—but you hustle into your own clothes and hop out of the truck. You squint against the sunlight, and an unexpected car honks at you as you dash across the street.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" a voice shouts, and you spin. A blurry figure trots up to you, and she has to get quite close before you recognize Stephanie. "Didn't you see me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. Guess I had, uh—" You look around. Everything is a smeary blur, and you hope the blobs that are moving are people and not furniture. It feels like you've got something stuck in your eyes—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh yeah.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hey," Stephanie says, and she shakes you. "Pay attention."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" you snap. You desperately want to get back into that bathroom so you can take Catherine's contacts out.<br/>
<br/>
"I said, Where's Catherine?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. I, uh, pulled the mask off the thing, left her— Uh, it, out in the truck."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, put it back on her. It. We need to put it back in the storeroom. The place."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll take care of it. Listen, just hang on a minute, I need to use the restroom." Without waiting for her to argue, you run off, caroming off the corners of sofas and tables as you stumble blindly into the back offices.<br/>
<br/>
And after you're back out again, you find that Stephanie has vanished on you. With your heart in your throat you check the door to the abandoned store, but it's locked. Your relief is short-lived, though, when you return to the front of the furniture store and find Stephanie leading ... <i>Catherine?</i> ... back in through the front door.<br/>
<br/>
"You got the key?" Stephanie asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"The what?" you reply, trying not to swallow your own tongue.<br/>
<br/>
"The key, Will, to the place." She rubs her nose and frowns. "Catherine went back to get it from you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." You pat your pockets, which are empty. "No, they must have fallen out in the truck," you truthfully reply.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie rolls her eyes hard. "Fine. Just wait here, I'll go get my set from my bag." She turns on her heel.<br/>
<br/>
You give the lackey a sidelong glance. It looks just like Catherine, and it's dressed in those same cast-off clothes that Stephanie gave to you, and if that's not enough to settle its identity, there's a greenish tinge behind the ghastly smile she turns on you. "What's going on?" she says. "I feel like I should be down at Stewart's Hole with all my friends, but I also feel like I should be—"<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, you have a set of keys on you?" you ask. She pats her pockets, and pulls out the key to the abandoned storefront. "Trade you." You give her her contacts and take the key. "Go put your lenses in," you say as you push her toward the back. "Close the door and lock it and don't come out until I tell you." Your heart is racing, but you think you finally see a way out of this farce.<br/>
<br/>
You're loitering out front when Stephanie strides back in with a very determined expression on her face. "Oh," you tell her with studied casualness. "I found my key after you left and I put the lackey back. We're all good."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie grunts. "Except she didn't get to talk to Hannah."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that was a cock up," you agree. "You want to try again tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think we need to just give up on it. No offense, Will, but this magic shit you found is more trouble than it's worth."<br/>
<br/>
You're actually inclined to agree, but you keep quiet.</span></div></div>


path: 1111345
author_id: rugal
title: Cheerleaders and Charity
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Despite having a teacher right here in front of you and ready for you to use the mask on you have second thoughts. Just because she's alone now doesn't mean that someone couldn't come walking by once you've got the mask on her. If they did then you'd have to explain why you're in a room alone with her while... well, you don't actually know what would happen if you put the mask on her. You know that per the book it's intended to copy her appearance in some manner but you're not actually sure how it does that.<br/>
<br/>
Would it knock her out? Would she still be conscious? Would it be an instant thing or would it take time? To be frank, you don't really know and the worries about how everything could go wrong now start to ramp up.<br/>
<br/>
So you back off and start to head around the school once again though your wandering now is pretty aimless. You're not really sure <i>what</i> you're looking for and you start to wonder if you'll actually be able to find it at school. <i>Maybe I should've just gone to the changing room of a store or something,</i> is the thought that creeps into your head. It's hard not to see why as the scenes you see are little different than they were a few minutes earlier to the point where you feel yourself beginning to zone out... until you hear someone tell you to watch where you're going.<br/>
<br/>
You're snapped back to reality when you see a boy -- you don't know who he is -- cast you a glance as he walks by, his eyes looking slightly irritated and rolling as he does. <i>Well fuck you too, buddy. Why don't</i> you <i>watch where you're going,</i> you think. You're still coming down from that when you hear a voice call out to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Will?" it asks. You turn to peer inside the classroom to see Yumi Saito, a girl whose friend-of-a-friend nature means you some times have lunch with her. To your surprise she waves you over. "Hey, actually, can you come over here for a minute?"<br/>
<br/>
Given that she's a cheerleader and quite pretty you're more than happy to oblige her summons. It's only when you walk through the door that you realize it's the orchestra room. Seeing as you don't know a bassoon from a recorder you've never actually been in here so you're a bit surprised by how large it is as you make your way over to Yumi. It's only now that you realize that she's standing with Eva Garner, another cheerleader.<br/>
<br/>
"What's up?" you ask as you approach but Yumi doesn't answer you immediately. Instead she's still turned to Eva.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, well, I'll message you later," Yumi says while Eva nods.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I'll talk to you later. Seeya Yumi," replies Eva before giving you a small smile and wave as she walks by. "Bye Will."<br/>
<br/>
Your hear flutters for a moment at that and you're glad you ran into Eva, who's generally fairly pleasant, instead of her grumpier sister. But your attention is now turned back to Yumi. "So you're here kind of late" you say nervously trying to make small talk.<br/>
<br/>
"Mrs. Heinz wanted to go over some stuff with us and get in a little extra practice," she says. "But what are <i>you</i> doing here so late?"<br/>
<br/>
All you can do is shrug. "Nothing better to do so I'm just taking it slow I guess," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"Well I'm glad I caught you then because that's perfect," she says. She then turns her attention away from you again. "Naomi! Kennedy! Can you guys come here?" she calls out.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, so what's--"<br/>
<br/>
But Yumi ignores you as two girls walk over. One is a girl with long, straight hair that's some kind of light brown or strawberry blonde but who radiates a rather self-assured, almost smug, aura. Her friend, you assume, has shorter, curlier and sandy hair and her expression, glasses and darker colored clothing give a more serious vibe.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you need something, Yumi?" asks the straight-haired girl and you immediately get strong teacher's pet vibes from her.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, this is Will," Yumi answers. "He's going to help me bring by those boxes for you."<br/>
<br/>
"I am?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi turns back at you with a bright expression. "Right, we talked about it at lunch, remember? That's why you stopped by here."<br/>
<br/>
You didn't even see her at lunch today but it seems like Yumi's already roped you into helping her. "Yeah, uh, I did," you say unconvincingly.<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" the teacher's pet says as she smiles (smugly) at you. "Yumi's always helping us so thanks for giving her a hand."<br/>
<br/>
"Just tells us when you're back and we'll meet you out in the parking lot so we can take it over to Kian's," the curly-haired girl says.<br/>
<br/>
"Will do," Yumi says as she bids goodbye to them and gives you a small push towards the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Yumi, what's--"<br/>
<br/>
"My family packed too many boxes and I don't want to shove them all into my car," Yumi says once you're out the door. "I think you've said something about having a truck right? I figure using that would be easier."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that makes sense."<br/>
<br/>
"Great, thanks! You're a lifesaver!" she exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
What you're helping with, Yumi tells you, is picking up a few boxes of old clothes for a charity drive that some of the juniors are putting together. Naomi Batson and Kennedy Palmer -- that'd be the two girls you saw earlier and Yumi's helpful enough to tell you which was which -- asked some of the other members of the orchestra on Friday if they'd be willing to contribute.<br/>
<br/>
Figuring it'd be easier to just tell you where to go she decides to ride with you to her house and invites you in. She leads you to the garage where three boxes filled with clothes sit by the door. She goes to grab one and tells you to pick up another. You go to do it and as you pass by you curse that the mask is in your backpack which is still in your truck, otherwise you would've had the perfect chance to use it on her.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, however, you place the box in the bed of your truck and then, maybe in a lame attempt to try and give her a good impression, tell Yumi that you'll grab the last box. She gives thanks as she hops back into your truck but doesn't seem as impressed as you'd hoped. Once you've got the last box in the bed you get in the driver's seat and begin the drive back to Westside.<br/>
<br/>
"That's a lot of stuff," you tell her trying to make conversation.<br/>
<br/>
"Well once I'd told my parents about it my mom decided everyone needed to chip in; it added up."<br/>
<br/>
She looks down at her phone and again you feel like you'd have the perfect opportunity to use the mask on her... but now you're so busy with driving and the road that you can't be fiddling around trying to get it out of your backpack; you don't want her to think that you're some kind of shitty driver.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm giving you a heads up Will," she suddenly chimes in, "but I told Jenny I was with you and why and she said she'd probably contact your mom about the drive too."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, sure. I'll tell her about it and get some stuff I don't need anymore packed away, thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"No, thank <i>you</i>," she replies. "Seriously I didn't feel like lugging those things around by myself so you're really helping me out. You want to grab some Starbucks or something after this?"<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. Is Yumi asking <i>you</i> to get coffee with her? Well, how can you refuse?<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you reply a bit nervously, "but why?"<br/>
<br/>
"You helped me so," she trails off for moment. "I guess consider it payment for labor costs."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Thanks for helping us out, uh--"<br/>
<br/>
"Will," you say when Naomi's seemingly already forgotten your name.<br/>
<br/>
"Right! Anyway, just help us get this stuff in my car and I'll take it over to Kian's." She then turns to the other girl, Kennedy, and can't help but smirk. "He'll be pretty surprised when I show up with a bunch of stuff won't he? Maybe then he'll stop acting like he's the only one who--"<br/>
<br/>
"That's nice and all but I need to get these boxes," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll help you out," Yumi says as she pulls down the bed. "It's the least I can do."<br/>
<br/>
However you wave her off and tell her you'll be fine. You're able to get them into Naomi's car and are getting ready to get into your truck when Kennedy's voice cuts in.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey wait," she says but then turns to Naomi and whispers something.<br/>
<br/>
Naomi's face is thoughtful as she listens and then lights up. "So actually Kennedy just had a great idea, Will," she beams at you. "You've got a truck and we need to get some more of this stuff collected so would you be willing to help us?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" you sputter. They're actually going to try and foist more work on you?<br/>
<br/>
"It's just a little bit extra," Naomi adds.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't even know where I'd be going," you say with barely disguised annoyance.<br/>
<br/>
"You have a map app right," Kennedy says with barely disguised condescension. "It won't take long."<br/>
<br/>
"If you're going to help them we can do that some other time," Yumi tells you.<br/>
<br/>
That just about tears it for you. You're barely even concerned with the mask right now when you'd have the chance to spend some personal time with Yumi freakin' Saito and now these prissy junior girls are going to ruin that? You're about ready to just tell them that your deal is with Yumi, not them, when it's Naomi's turn to jump in.<br/>
<br/>
"We're willing to pay you if you want," she says.<br/>
<br/>
That does definitely give you pause because you know you'll need money to do things with this book and helping these girls out might save you from having to get that job your dad's been trying to push you towards.</span></div></div>


path: 11113451
author_id: rugal
title: Assertiveness
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Having the extra money would certainly be nice. After all, if you're going to do whatever spells there are in the book -- and with the size that could definitely be quite a lot -- then you're going to eventually need more of it anyway as your own supply from over the summer is starting to run low.<br/>
<br/>
But you do still have <i>some</i> money for now while you have no idea who these girls even are. They're juniors, orchestra members and they give you the same kind of smarmy and prissy vibe that you get from Kelsey Blankenship. You certainly can't imagine that <i>she</i> would ever give you money to do work for her. Hell, she'd probably believe that being able to do something for her would be a privilege in and of itself.<br/>
<br/>
So figuring that these girls would be just as likely to string you along, you decide to turn them down.<br/>
<br/>
"Not that I don't appreciate the offer," you say, "but I really only agreed to help out Yumi at, uh, lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"We're offering to pay you," Kennedy huffs, "and you're really going to turn that down?" She looks you up and down and shakes her head. "Wouldn't you want to have some extra money so you can buy some new clothes or something?"<br/>
<br/>
Well that just about tears it and if you hadn't already made up your mind then Kennedy's snooty attitude would've made it up for you. As is, it just reinforces your decision not to get involved with both Kelsey Jr. and La Hija del Kelsey.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I'm fine," you respond with as much forceful conviction as you can muster. "I agreed to help out Yumi and I helped her out. That's the end of it." With that you turn and head back to your truck but not before looking over at Yumi. "So, you still want to get some coffee?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it's because you're still worked up but you can't help but feel like that was said a little more directly, maybe even rudely, than you intended. However you don't really care at this point since much as you really want to hang out with Yumi she <i>is</i> the one who roped you into dealing with these snobs in the first place.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah, sure," she says with what sounds like mixed surprise and confusion. "Is Starbucks fine?"<br/>
<br/>
"That works," you say rather brusquely. And that's all you say, too, as you march towards your truck, turn on the ignition and head out onto Borman.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The Starbucks isn't particularly packed but neither is it empty, either. A steady stream of people are in and out as Yumi and you grab your drinks and find a seat at a small table. You watch quietly as Yumi taps at her phone and, after a moment or two and seemingly satisfied, places it down on the table.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, you really surprised me back there," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Surprised how?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"With Naomi and Kennedy," she answers.<br/>
<br/>
Your expression sours. "Oh, yeah," you grumble. "Sorry if I pissed off your friends."<br/>
<br/>
Yumi, however, shakes her head. "No, it's fine. They're not really my friends, I just know them from orchestra," she says. "Trust me, I know how they are."<br/>
<br/>
"They seem so haughty," you complain. "Like they reminded me of Kelsey and those other snobs. Like, what did they think I was going to do when they talked to me like that."<br/>
<br/>
To your surprise Yumi lightly laughs. "That's not really that far off and that's why I was surprised," she says. "Honestly, I kind of figured that you'd have gone off with them."<br/>
<br/>
"Why's that?"<br/>
<br/>
Yumi says nothing for a moment and simply takes a sip of her latte. "Truth be told, you've always come off as kind of rabbity, Will. You know, like you're always nervous and, uh, easy pickings for the more assertive types," she states.<br/>
<br/>
That's nothing that surprises you but it certainly feels like a blow given that it's coming from Yumi, someone who you'd like to think you're on friendly terms with and who's, well, beautiful. You can still hardly believe that you're spending an afternoon with her, sitting here at a table in a coffee shop, just the two of you. With amusement, you bet that Caleb and Keith will probably be really jealous when you tell them tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
"When they started trying to offer you money I kind of figured you'd just wilt," she continues.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah, well I did consider it for a split second," you admit, "but they just kept reminding me so much of Kelsey that I guess I started getting kind of pissed so, you know..." you trail off; now you kind of feel bad. "Sorry if I was, you know, acting like a dick towards you too. You know, if it felt like I was forcing you to come out here with me."<br/>
<br/>
"It's fine, I <i>did</i> offer to hang out and honestly, I kind of dragged you into my thing for the same reason Naomi and Kennedy were trying to," Yumi says. You feel bad about that but you notice Yumi give you a small smile as she continues. "But trust me Will, that assertiveness you showed earlier? You should keep it up."<br/>
<br/>
"Keep it up? Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because," she says coyly, "girls definitely find a guy much more attractive when he shows a little backbone."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Unfortunately for you it's only a few minutes later when she checks her phone and tells you that she has to meet up with some of her friends, probably Cindy and some of the other cheerleaders you'd guess. She says that she'll see you at school and you're left to ruminate on what she'd said to you a few minutes earlier, about showing backbone. You sit there for a little bit and briefly you wonder if she was talking about girls in general or maybe a specific girl; maybe <i>herself</i>.<br/>
<br/>
But you brush that thought aside and eventually, after finishing your own coffee, push yourself up and toss out the cup. It's as you're passing by the counter that you hear someone call out to you. You look over and are surprised by who you find.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey man, I didn't know you worked here!" you say in surprise to the person behind the counter. You walk up and give them a fist bump.<br/>
<br/>
Justin Carr was someone you hung out with last year. You wouldn't say that you were close friends with him but you and him ran in the same circles as he was buddies with James Lamont and Carson Ioeger. He was a year ahead of you, having graduated back in May, so you're surprised he even remembers you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yep, Connor too," Justin replies, referring to his close friend and another member of that circle.<br/>
<br/>
"He around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Worked the earlier shift," Justin says before leaning in. "More importantly Prescott, you're going all out as a senior, huh? I mean, Yumi Saito, of all people? How'd you land that?"<br/>
<br/>
You're taken aback by his assumption. "Uh, no, we're not going out or anything," you admit, "she was just paying me back for helping her with something earlier. I'm surprised you even remember her."<br/>
<br/>
"It hasn't been <i>that</i> long, Prescott and besides," he grins, "it's kinda hard to forget a girl like that. She still doing gymnastics?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I'm sure she's forgotten all about <i>you</i>," you joke. "And she's a cheerleader now, actually. so it's not like I'd have a chance with her anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"A cheerleader, huh? Well, why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dude... she's way out of my league!" you exclaims. "Plus, she was kind of implying she likes, you know, guys with backbone."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah, you definitely haven't changed, Prescott. You still way overthink things," Justin says. "But hey, me and Justin are doing a little get together at our place on Friday. A few friends, maybe James and Carson and some of the old crew too. You wanna come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, maybe," you say before nodding, "What the hell? Not like I've got anything going on."<br/>
<br/>
"Right on. Tell Caleb," he leans in and smiles at you, "tell Yumi. Hell, tell all the cheerleaders. Having some girls like that over isn't going to hurt."<br/>
<br/>
You're taken aback by that. "You're just fucking with me," you state dismissively. "Like I can invite someone like Yumi to a party."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean it'd take a lot of backbone to invite a cheerleader out to a party right?" The thought hangs there for a moment before he dismisses it. "But seriously, come out, have some fun. It'll be good to catch up."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your mom asks you why you're late getting home and when you tell her it was because you were helping a friend transport some stuff for the charity drive she says that a schoolmate called about that as well and that you should gather up old stuff you don't need.<br/>
<br/>
You start poking around in your room for any old clothes you haven't worn in a long time to throw into the box your mom handed you. As you do, you keep thinking about having spent the afternoon with Yumi and how good it felt to be acknowledged directly by her like that. Not that she's a bitch or ignores you but she's always been more Jenny's friend who hangs around at lunch every few days and not your friend directly. This was probably the first real one on one interaction you've had with her.<br/>
<br/>
You come back to Justin's words, that it would show a lot of spine inviting someone like her out to a party. You can't really deny that it's wrong nor can you deny that it probably would be better if you started being more assertive, less jumpy. Maybe you should invite Yumi out to that party or maybe...<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes go to your bed where your backpack rests... with the book in it. You'd wanted to get a mask of Yumi but the opportunity never presented itself. But what if instead of getting a mask, you showed her the book? Made it some little secret between the two of you. That'd be just as impressive, right?<br/>
<br/>
Actually, you're probably being ridiculous in fantasizing about either one.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111134511
author_id: seuzz
title: Of Paralysis and Procrastination
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>The next day. Lunchtime.</i> You drop onto the grassy quad in front of the school, where Carson Ioeger, James Lamont, and other friends take their lunches. Caleb and Keith have joined as well.<br/>
<br/>
"S'up?" Ioeger asks. He's lounging on his side, lazily taking bites from a sandwich.<br/>
<br/>
"Conor and Justin are having a party this Friday."<br/>
<br/>
Ioeger stops in mid-chew. Lamont, his best friend, looks up from his cell phone. "Hutchison and Carr?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. So I was—"<br/>
<br/>
"How did <i>you</i> find out they're having a party?" Ioeger demands.<br/>
<br/>
You blink at his hostile tone. "I ran into Justin at Starbucks, and he told me?"<br/>
<br/>
Ioeger and Lamont exchange a glance. "When was this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yesterday. What's with the questions?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with asking questions, Prescott? It's how you find things out."<br/>
<br/>
You blink again. Then— "Oh, bite me!"<br/>
<br/>
But Ioeger's not paying attention. "You texting Carr now?" he asks Lamont.<br/>
<br/>
"Hutchison."<br/>
<br/>
You ask, "What're you texting them for?"<br/>
<br/>
"To find out about this party. Word to the wise, Prescott. If you're invited and we're not, you'd be smart to skip."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because then I won't want to be your friend anymore."<br/>
<br/>
You groan and open up your own lunch.<br/>
<br/>
Well, this is just the way Carson and James are. They're stamped from the same mold as you and your other friends—skinny, sloppily dressed guys who skew heavily toward the nerd/gamer side of the spectrum. But with Carson and James, as with Caleb, it manifests as a pronounced interest in science and engineering, but these two take it a lot farther than Caleb does. They're as sarcastic as cheerleaders, and as arrogant as jocks. You like them, and you know that they like you. But they do like to play rough.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, anyway," you resume after you've made a start on your own lunch, "assuming we all go—"<br/>
<br/>
"Mark that down as our starting hypothetical," Carson tells James.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude," Keith interrupts, "are we <i>all</i> going?" He gestures broadly at your group, which includes Jenny Ashton and Paul Davis.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what we're trying to find out, Tilley," Ioeger says. "It could be a pity-ask that Prescott got, in which case—"<br/>
<br/>
Jenny bangs Carson on the back of the head. "Yes, we're all going," she says. "Unless you've got something better to do."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't say I don't got something better planned," Keith says. "But—"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," says Carson. "I can only deal with one idiot at a time. What were you saying, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was saying, assuming we all go, would it be okay if we brought dates with us?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a very pregnant silence. Then Carson rolls onto his back to laugh asthmatically at the clouds.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure we can bring dates," says James. "You can bring Tilley, Davis can bring Johansson, I'll take Jenny, and—"<br/>
<br/>
"And Ioeger can bring his own super-massive ego," Caleb finishes for him.<br/>
<br/>
"I assume," Jenny snaps, "that's a question to ask Justin and Conor."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was thinking about—"<br/>
<br/>
"Ashton is right," Carson says, recovering from his mirth. "There's no reason to get tangled up in conditionals and hypotheticals when the controlling parameters have yet to be established."<br/>
<br/>
Keith says, "The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ask again when you know if you're even going, and if you're allowed to bring a date," Carson translates. "And if Conor and Justin," he adds, looking Keith up and down, "would consider your jerk-off rag a 'date'."<br/>
<br/>
Keith's brow beetles up, and he shoves his sandwich into his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's all that gets said at lunch, but you make a point of following Jenny into the school afterward. "So about this party at Conor and Justin's," you say. "I was thinking about asking Yumi to go along."<br/>
<br/>
Jenny seems to catch herself in mid-stride. "Well, I don't think she really knows them," she says. "So I don't know if she'd like to go."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I mean as a— a date."<br/>
<br/>
Now she pulls to a full stop. "<i>Your</i> date?" she asks without looking you in the face.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself redden. It is so clear that Jenny thinks you wouldn't have a chance with Yumi.<br/>
<br/>
So it's a bit of a surprise when she says, "Well, you can <i>ask</i> her, Will," she says. "But does this mean you and Lisa are, uh—?"<br/>
<br/>
You tense all over. When you decided to ask Jenny about Yumi, you had no idea that <i>that</i> subject would come up. Still less that she'd be asking you to decide, once and for all, about you and your ex-.<br/>
<br/>
Well, the girl that you consider your ex-, even if she says she was never even your pre-ex-.<br/>
<br/>
"And here's another thing I'm thinking," Jenny continues, "even though it isn't your business or even mine. But if you ask Yumi along and she goes— as your date— and if Paul goes to the party too— Um—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> That's an angle you hadn't thought of. Not that you give a fuck, or that anyone else seems to give much of a fuck either. But the hard crush that Paul Davis has for Yumi is an open and rather embarrassing secret within your set.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, it's up to you whether you want to ask Yumi or not," Jenny says, and finally looks you in the face. "So why are you asking me?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Why indeed?</i> If you had wanted to be de-pantsed and punched in the face as neatly as she's just done to you, you'd have sought out Seth Javits or Lester "The Molester" Pozniak.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess I'll think about it," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny smiles brightly at you, then hurries off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You do give it some more thought, a lot more thought, though it wracks you with second-guessing and indecision, especially after you get a text from Justin Carr: <i>Hey u on for party? Starts 6 goes til wenev. Grill, byo eat stuff. Bring ev girl u know lol.</i><br/>
<br/>
You think: <i>Yeah. Lol.</i><br/>
<br/>
The question, you decide after wrestling your own most cowardly instincts into submission, is this: Would Yumi say "yes" if you asked her to go out to the party with you? Or was all that talk about liking "assertiveness" just a generic thing she wanted to tell you, a kind of all-purpose "You go, Will!" that doesn't mean anything about whether <i>she</i> would like it if you got assertive with her?<br/>
<br/>
The moment for acting finally arrives on Thursday night when, in a moment of panic and self-recognition, you realize that you've been procrastinating in the hopes that when she says "no," it will because she's made other plans rather than because she doesn't want to go with <i>you.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Be assertive, be assertive,</i> you tell yourself as you hunch on your bed with your cell phone, feverishly composing a text as though the next ten seconds will make all the difference for how the rest of your life goes:<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hey yumi remember Conor n Justin? They having party tmrw nite lots us going if u want go to.</i> You cringe after sending it, both because it makes you sound like a special ed student and because you couldn't even bring yourself to ask if she wanted to go with <i>you.</i> "So much for being 'assertive'," you grumble to yourself. <i>Well, baby steps and all that.</i><br/>
<br/>
By contrast, Yumi's reply when it comes reads almost like an English term paper: <i>Jenny told me about it already. Sounds like fun but it depends on what Eva and Jessica want to do I already said I'd do something with them. What times it start?<br/>
<br/>
Sixish,</i> you thumb back. You agonize over mentioning the "byo" aspect of the party. That might scare her and her friends off—<i>What do you mean we have to "byo" stuff?</i>—but if they showed up without their own stuff they might be pissed at you for not mentioning it. Your decision, when it comes, leaves you shame-faced: You'll say nothing about it until tomorrow when school lets out, when you'll offer to take them on a store run with you, when you'll be getting your own stuff.<br/>
<br/>
All this time Yumi's been typing in a reply, which finally comes: <i>Need to talk to J n E. Maybe sounds fun and could squeeze in before other stuff. Talk to me tmrw ok?</i> She closes with a smiling emoji.<br/>
<br/>
<i>K,</i> you text back, then leap about the room as if you just scored the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Assertiveness pays,</i> you tell yourself the next morning as you're packing your things for school. <i>You need to be more of a go-getter, Will.</i><br/>
<br/>
So this is your frame of mind as, while glancing about for anything you've forgotten, your eye lights on the spine of that crazy book, which is now layered under a couple other books and stacks of paper on your desk. Which of course reminds you of that mask you made, and which you have hidden in the bottom drawer of your chest of drawers. (Where it had a narrow escape. Your mother cleaned that drawer out on Tuesday, and only missed finding the mask because you were still carrying it around in your backpack.) In all your anxiety about Yumi and the upcoming party, you had completely forgotten about it and your intention to test it out on someone.<br/>
<br/>
Well, as long as you're being confident and assertive, why not take it to school again, and this time for sure find a guinea pig?<br/>
<br/>
Or take it to the party tonight?<br/>
<br/>
Ah, but maybe it would be best to wait for the weekend or next week.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1111345111
author_id: seuzz
title: Ballsy and Ballsier
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Be assertive,</i> you were telling yourself just now. Then why do you still have that mask, untested, in your bedroom now, if not for the fact that you have <i>not</i> been assertive up till now? So you pack it in your bag and strut out your bedroom with the most confident gait you can muster.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But just because you are feeling "assertive" doesn't mean you're feeling stupid, and when you see Lester "The Molester" Pozniak lurking on the path you usually take into the school from the parking lot, you make a wide detour to avoid him.<br/>
<br/>
So although you're still trying to feel confident, a lot of the swagger has leaked from your stride when you enter Mr. Walberg's classroom. But you're still <i>assertive</i> enough to ask Caleb, after you're settled in, who he's asking out to the party tonight.<br/>
<br/>
"Who says we're asking people out?" he replies. He glares at you, but his nose is twitching like a rabbit's.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a party. Aren't we taking dates?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a cookout."<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't we taking dates?" you repeat.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, who said and when?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
"We were talking about it earlier this week!"<br/>
<br/>
"So what we were doing was talking about it," Caleb retorts. "Talking about <i>doing</i> it. Did anyone ever decide to stop talking and actually do it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I did."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I asked Yumi out."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's eyes, which are already slightly bulbous, protrude farther from their sockets. "You did? Wha'd she say?"<br/>
<br/>
"She told me to fuck off. No, of course she told me she'd come. I wouldn't've mentioned it if she'd said she wasn't coming."<br/>
<br/>
"Yumi Saito is going on a <i>date</i> with you tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
You'd love to preen, particularly as you've noticed that Dean Stratton, in the next row over, is leaning toward you with his ear practically flapping in the breeze. But you also know the kind of shit you'll get if Yumi doesn't show up, or doesn't act like your date.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, okay, it's not a <i>date,</i>" you admit. "But I told her about it, and, uh, I asked her if she wanted to go."<br/>
<br/>
"To go?" Caleb echoes. His expression turns shrewd.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, to go. As in, go out to Justin and Conor's. To their party."<br/>
<br/>
"To go," Caleb says again. "With <i>you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help flushing. "What are you, a lawyer all of a sudden? Sure, with me," you continue recklessly. "And she'll be bringing Jessica and Eva with her."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's eyebrows go up. "Are they your dates too?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want, for them <i>not</i> to show up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just trying to figure out if these are <i>dates,</i> Prescott, or—"<br/>
<br/>
"What do <i>you</i> care? As long as there's girls there?"<br/>
<br/>
A rough, resonant calls from halfway across the room. "Where's there gonna be girls?"<br/>
<br/>
You do a double-take, and flinch a little. Laurent Delacroix, the captain of the wrestling team, is grinning at you from the front of the room. There's a hungry gleam in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
"A party tonight," you call back.<br/>
<br/>
"Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"At some college guys' place."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool." Laurent's grin widens. It is very white against his olive-complected face, under his inky-black hair. "Where is it?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb jumps in before you can reply. "We'll text you later when we find out."<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey Blankenship, the stuck-up queen of the AP class, who has been listening too, rolls her eyes and says, "You don't know where it is?"<br/>
<br/>
"We know the people, just don't know the address," Caleb shouts back.<br/>
<br/>
Laurent has his phone out. "Where can I text you guys at?" You give him your number when Caleb doesn't answer.<br/>
<br/>
But then later, as class is getting out, Caleb shoves you against a wall. "I can't believe you," he growls. "You just make sure not to tell Laurent where the party is, or you get the address mixed up."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"You want the <i>whole fucking wrestling team,</i> and half the football players, showing up?"<br/>
<br/>
Okay, that seems like a good point.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And, naturally, you can't resist bragging in second period to Keith as well. "Hey, pretty good chance Yumi and Jessica and Eva Garner are gonna show up at the party tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"What party?" the doofus says. Then his eyes pop. "Wait, the cookout at Conor and Justin's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yup. I texted Yumi about it last night, and it sounds like her and the other girls are in."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa. Who'dja tell 'em was gonna be there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, us! I told 'er it was gonna be at Conor and Justin's—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean, who'd you tell her was gonna be there, so she decided she wanted to show up?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink at him, then flip him off. "I told 'em <i>I</i> was gonna be there. I'd'a mentioned <i>you,</i> but I didn't wanna scare 'em off."<br/>
<br/>
"So we're invitin' girls, huh? Mia!" he calls to a girl who is just entering the classroom. She's a curvy dish in a tight t-shirt, a trailing scarf, and a beret. You'd ogle her more often in class, but she sits far off behind you right shoulder so it's awkward to turn around. "Party tonight. You in?"<br/>
<br/>
She pauses in mid-stride with a surprised look on her face. It's probably nothing on the ghastly look of shock that is probably on yours. "Party?" she says. "Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Up near campus. College guys. We're invited, and now so are you."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," you mutter under your breath. "Dude, what are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do I know them?" Mia asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Conor Hutchison and Justin Carr. They graduated last year."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, yeah, I know them!" Mia exclaims. "Sure, maybe. What time? Where do they live?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith punches you in the shoulder. "Er, six?" you stammer. "It's a cookout. I can send you directions if you, um, give me your phone number."<br/>
<br/>
Mia rattles off her contact info, which you (and Keith, you notice) enter into your phone. "I think the guys are at work now," you tell her, "but when I get the address I'll text you." Mia nods, then sweeps on to her desk.<br/>
<br/>
Keith smirks at you. "Now, what was you askin', about what was I doin'?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It rattles you badly, the ... <i>assertiveness</i> ... that Keith showed in asking Mia to the party. First of all, it was a much ballsier move than you've been bragging on yourself about. But (worse) it makes you wonder if Yumi wasn't full of shit about that "girls like assertiveness in a guy." Oh sure, Mia said yes, but that was probably on account of she already knows and likes Conor and Justin. But if "assertiveness" was attractive, how come you doubt that Keith could get a girl just with that?<br/>
<br/>
Still, you start keeping your eyes peeled in your classes for others you can invite. There's no one in your third-period class, because you don't know anyone there, but then in fourth period—<br/>
<br/>
"Tilley invited someone else to the party tonight," you tell Caleb when you reconnect with him in English. <br/>
<br/>
"Who, and how hideous is she?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's cute. But she already knows Justin and Conor," you add when Caleb's eyebrows go up. "He just came out and asked her."<br/>
<br/>
"That's usually how you ask girls out," Caleb says, dryly.<br/>
<br/>
"Then why don't <i>we</i> do it more often?" you ask. It's a question more for yourself than Caleb. You look around. "Think we could get Catherine over there to come out? Or— No!" You groan with banked desire. "How about <i>Andrea?</i>" That would be the sensationally sexy captain of the school swim team.<br/>
<br/>
But Caleb puts up his hand and snaps his fingers. "Hey Cassie! Cassie!"<br/>
<br/>
You pale all over. "Dude, what are you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Party tonight! You're invited! Me and Will are gonna be there!"<br/>
<br/>
"What did you ask <i>Cassie</i> for," you grumble to him later, as you're leaving for lunch.<br/>
<br/>
"She's cute, available, and she was going to say yes."<br/>
<br/>
"But she <i>talks!</i>" And talks and talks and talks and talks. She makes your ears hurt, and she made your ears hurt when she came over to chatter at you excitedly about this party you were inviting her too.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't forget to text her directions, like you promised you would when she finally let you get a word in," Caleb says with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're slumping at a library table in seventh period, which is your study hall, when you remember that you still have to get that mask on someone. You suppose you'll have to try that again after school. Except you didn't get it onto anyone last time, so what makes you think you could get it onto someone this time? It's while you're mulling this that Justin replies to your text asking for an address and/or directions to his place. With a sigh you settle back and prepare to fire off texts to the people you promised directions to.<br/>
<br/>
But before you can, you get a brilliant idea.<br/>
<br/>
Instead of searching the school for a guinea pig, why not lure one out, with these directions as the bait?<br/>
<br/>
Sure! All you have to do is send a text offering to meet the, er, test subject at some neutral location before the party. Then, when you meet, get the mask onto them! Simple!<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but which of them? Laurent, Mia, or Cassie? You're still thinking it over when you go into your last period of the day, where in a wild fit of madness you invite the intimidating Stephanie Wyatt—one of the girl basketball players—to the party, and she says, "Lemme think about it." So that's a fourth.<br/>
<br/>
But what if (it occurs to you) none of these decide to go to the party? Or what if they show up with friends? Maybe it would be safer and surer to target someone you know you can get alone. You're now lukewarm on trying to make Caleb or Keith a test subject. But what about Carson Ioeger?<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11113451112
author_id: seuzz
title: Masking Mia
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't want to see Cassie. Laurent would probably show up with friends. Of the others, Mia is the only one you think you could <i>talk</i> into putting the mask to her face (as the book directs). With her berets and her scarfs, she seems like the arty type who'd be interested in the thing you made.<br/>
<br/>
So to all the others you text directions to Conor and Justin's house. (And too late you remember Caleb's warning to send Laurent on a snipe hunt.) But to Mia you send this text: <i>Hey this is Will if u still want go to that party how abt meet at eagle foods on 20 at abt 5. Get food for cookout then I'll lead u to place?</i><br/>
<br/>
Mia's reply comes when you're almost home: <i>Sounds good who all b there?</i> You reply that you don't know for sure, only that a couple of your own friends will be there for sure. She sends back a thumbs up emoji.<br/>
<br/>
At home, you ask your mom for some money for the store because you got invited a "bring your own" cookout. She's a little aggravated because she's already started supper, but lets you take twenty dollars from the kitchen drawer while also pressing on you a just-opened pack of hotdogs, half a bag of hotdog buns, and two mostly eaten bags of potato chips, with the excuse that they might as well get eaten. You are out of the house before your dad gets home.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Conor and Justin live south of the university campus, which is one reason you chose Eagle Foods for your food run. You're there in plenty of time, and are standing out front of the building, scanning the parking lot anxiously, when you see Mia approaching from a far corner of the lot. She is, unfortunately, not parked anywhere near where you parked, which might complicate your plans for her and the mask.<br/>
<br/>
She does a double-take at you as she gets close, as though she's not sure you're the one she's supposed to meet, but she smiles broadly when you call to her. You smile too, for she's a lovely sight. She is small and slight, but with pronounced breasts and a waist that curves in beautifully between her bust and her hips; her blouse is a tight fit, so that every bend of that curve could be plotted on a graph. She's got a cloth bandana tied loosely about her throat, and a tan knit cap pulled low and to one side on her head. Her chestnut hair spills like a gentle waterfall over her shoulders and breasts, framing a face with large, dark eyes, a button nose, and a small mouth with large, kissable lips. Her complexion is clear and her makeup so muted it only just registers as makeup.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," she says when she joins you. "So when's the party start?"<br/>
<br/>
"Around six. We'll probably be early, but I wanted to be sure we had time to get stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you can get whatever you need," she says. "Mine's back in my car."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need to buy anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll look around. But I'm vegan, so I brought my own. By the way, what's your name?"<br/>
<br/>
The question is like a tiny punch to the gut. "Will. Prescott. I thought it would be on my texts."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, right. You wanna get a basket?" she reminds you as you enter the store.<br/>
<br/>
It makes you very self-conscious, shopping with this stylish girl who says she's a vegan. It makes you hesitate to buy a pound of hamburger or a cut of beef. But she doesn't say anything when you do. She hardly seems to be paying attention to you at all, but studies her phone while trailing you around. You do try to keep up a little conversation by asking about her classes and who she hangs out with at school, and what her hobbies are. <i>Photography,</i> she tells you in answer to the latter, because she wants to be a fashion photographer. Or a landscape photographer. "You have to keep your options open, you know," she says. As for friends, she names some girls you don't know, and a few guys you do: Andy Tackett, Karl Hennepin, Tim Gerard. Artist types.<br/>
<br/>
Given her interests and social group, you're a little surprised that she'd want to go to a party hosted by Conor Hutchison and Justin Carr, who were more into computers. "I had a business class with them last year," she explains. "We had to do a group project together, and they were a lot of fun." Only now does she ask <i>you</i> a question, and even then she barely glances at you. "How do <i>you</i> know them?"<br/>
<br/>
"They hung out with friends of mine, so I hung out with them, some. You know Carson Ioeger and James Lamont?" Mia thinks a moment, then nods. "That's how I knew Justin and Conor. But they invited <i>me</i> to the party tonight."<br/>
<br/>
The awkward silences between you are good for one thing, though. They give you time to wrack your brain for a plan to get the mask onto her.<br/>
<br/>
Still, it does come out a little strange, after you've checked out and are walking out the store, when you tell Mia, "Hey, I've got this weird thing I think I wanna show you."<br/>
<br/>
"Weird thing?" she echoes. She says it as though what you'd actually said was "giant rubber dildo cock-penis."<br/>
<br/>
"I found it at a thrift shop, flea market place. It's a mask and it's— Well, it's kind of artistic. You were telling me"—which she had been—"about that sculpture Karl's working on, and it reminded me— Can I show it to you? My truck's right over there." Your truck is, fortunately, between the store and her car. With a shrug she accedes, and follows you over. <br/>
<br/>
You put your grocery bag on the passenger-side of the bench, then dig through your backpack. "It's, um, a mask," you repeat as you pull it free from your bag, and hold it up for her inspection. "Kind of like the masks you see on theaters? With the happy-sad faces?"<br/>
<br/>
Mia actually does look intrigued by it, maybe because of the way it shines and glows in the late afternoon sun like a fragment of the sky, and she takes it and gently runs her fingertips over the contours. "What's it made of?" she asks; you confess you don't know. "What did it cost?" "Ten dollars," you improvise. "What are you going to do with it?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You're glad of that question, because it leads to the suggestion you wanted to make.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was thinking of using it for part of a Halloween costume. Like, putting a rubber band on it and wearing it, um, like a mask."<br/>
<br/>
"There aren't any eye holes."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd have to punch some into it."<br/>
<br/>
"You might shatter the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"I might, yeah. But I was thinking of making it, like the mask for a Grim Reaper costume? Get a robe with a hood, and a—"<br/>
<br/>
"A top hat," she firmly declares. "A top hat and a tuxedo. It's kind of Art Deco, don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if I'm going as the Grim Reaper—"<br/>
<br/>
"A modern Grim Reaper. Or just someone mysterious. Like—"<br/>
<br/>
To your delight, she doesn't even wait for your suggestion, and lifts the mask to her face, pressing it there.<br/>
<br/>
And then, to your horror, she faints and falls directly into your arms.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She's a lot heavier than she looks, and she almost drags you to the asphalt. Luckily you're standing inside the open door of your truck, shielded by it and the cars around. You glance around, but all the pedestrians and prowling cars are on the other side of the lot. You almost strain your back as you hoist Mia up, holding her under the shoulders and gripping her tightly to yourself. You pop out in a sweat all over as you shuffle around until her back is to the truck cab so you can loft her inside. Her legs dangle, and she almost slithers out until you catch her under the hips and fold her legs up in after her. Then you shut the door and look wildly around.<br/>
<br/>
No one, thank God, seems to have noticed. You wipe your brow, resettle your cap, then search the ground for the mask.<br/>
<br/>
Because it wasn't on her face when she fainted.<br/>
<br/>
It was the damnedest thing: the mask seemed to melt right into her just before she dropped her hands and swooned. That can't be right, though, can it? But the thing hasn't rolled away under the truck or the car beside it, so you hop into the cab to search there, in case it got tangled up in her scarf or clothes. But it's not in your truck, either. Mia doesn't wake or make any noise or movement at all as you shove your hands under her, feeling for the mask. You are soon in a full-blown panic, and for ten minutes you hunch inside your truck, too terrified to do anything.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'll see you inside," you tell Mia after you've met her outside Conor's and Justin's place. "I have to get my stuff." She shoots you a beady-eyed quarter-smile, and with her own bags goes walking up the path to the tiny, cinder-block shack where the party's being held. You sag against the side of your truck, and hope you never have to go through <i>that</i> again.<br/>
<br/>
You were almost in a full-blown meltdown when the mask, providentially, reappeared on her face, as mysteriously as it had vanished. You picked it off her and hid it in your bag, then gently tried to wake her. It took some doing, and she was very groggy and complained of a headache when she woke, and she looked at you suspiciously. You gave her a song and dance about the mask maybe "cutting off the oxygen" and causing her to faint. She didn't argue, but she looked none too pleased, and brusquely said that if you'd take the lead, she'd follow you to the party.<br/>
<br/>
Now you're not sure that you want to go to the party. Never mind Mia's attitude, you've got a mask to examine. You glanced at it while you were still at the store, and are dying to get a closer look at it.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111134511122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Girl in the Palm of Your Hand
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There's now a face inside the mask. You got back into your truck, pulled the mask out, reexamined it to see if you had been hallucinating, but no. There is now a face inside the mask.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, it's not easy to make out, because it's not like a photograph. It's a ghostly image composed of glimmering lines, like the gleaming highlights that skitter and slide across the mask's surface when you hold it up to the light. But these highlights don't melt and run when you turn the mask in your hands. They hold their shape. And the shape they hold is the face of Mia DeWitt.<br/>
<br/>
It's a waxy visage, with no light in its eyes or life in its bones. But it is her face, and when you turn the mask in profile her face goes into profile, and when you look at the mask top-down you can make out part of the crown of her head (there's no knit cap in the image) and what might be the tops of her bare shoulders and bare breasts down below.<br/>
<br/>
So is this what the book meant when it said that the mask would "absorb the form" of he (or she! in this case) who lays it against their face? It does look like the "form" of Mia DeWitt is now inside the mask.<br/>
<br/>
You sit in your truck, the burning curiosity to explore this mystery fighting with the more ordinary desire to attend a Friday night cookout and party.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
In the end, curiosity wins out. <i>I'd just sit around wishing I was working on the mask,</i> you tell yourself as you shoot a quick text to Caleb, telling him you got a call to come home and will have to miss the party. <br/>
<br/>
You get home in the middle of dinner, telling your surprised family that the cookout got cancelled; you wolf the rest of the meal with them after putting away the food you took and bought. Then, after rushing through the after-dinner chores you race upstairs with your bag to your bedroom. If you had even the tiniest doubt that there is magic afoot, it is vaporized when you open the book to the spell and find that the page itself has altered. Superimposed on the Latin is a faint oval, the same size and shape as the mask. The meaning seems clear enough, and after you gulp hard you lay the mask on the open page of the book, over the oval. When you lift it, the page beneath, which had been tightly bound to the page after, flutters loose. With beating heart you turn it over to study the continuation of the spell.<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't yield easily to translation, but maybe that's because you're a fumble-fingers with your phone as you put the words and phrases into the online translator. But gradually it yields, and you lean back on your bed, staggered by what the spell says you have done.<br/>
<br/>
It confirms that the mask now contains the very form and image of the person you set it on: Mia DeWitt. It also promises that if you "seal" it, then any who don the mask will assume her form as an impenetrable disguise. It also includes instructions for how to remove the mask once it has been donned. <br/>
<br/>
But last, it says that if you don't seal the mask but instead set it on another person, it will absorb their form as well, but without displacing the previous form. Instead, they will "mix" to create a new form, belonging to nobody but containing elements of the two forms so mixed. Other forms may also be added in this way, until such time as the mask is sealed, whereupon it can then be worn.<br/>
<br/>
So if you "seal" the mask, then put it on ... you would turn yourself into the double of Mia DeWitt. You close your eyes and let play in your imagination those curves, those breasts, those pouty lips and that long, delicious hair. It gives you a small but lovely shiver just to imagine them. To imagine touching and playing with them by making out with Mia, that would be even better. But to actually <i>have</i> her breasts to fondle, to <i>have</i> her lips to touch with gentle fingertips, to <i>have</i> her trailing hair to twist around delicate fingers, to <i>have</i> her ... <i>mwah</i> ... to touch and probe? That gives you the shakes all over, enough to make you wonder, a little guiltily, if there is something wrong with you for wanting something like that.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes,</i> you quickly decide, <i>forget making a "new" face by mixing Mia's with someone else's.</i> The only someone else you can get fast ahold of is yourself, and how gross would it be to mix your bony, hairy boy's body with that supple, feminine body of hers? No, you're not going to wait for another chance to get the mask on some other girl, you're going to test the thing out as soon as you find out how to "seal" it, which presumably involves another spell.<br/>
<br/>
So you eagerly turn your attention to the facing page, newly uncovered.<br/>
<br/>
It's very similar to the first, with Latin text taking up the top half of the page and a wheel-like sigil taking up the bottom. You flip back and forth between the two, confirming that they use the same ingredients in what seem to be identical proportions. The preparation is a little different, though, for there is no call to use that convex mirror. Still, you make a note to pack it up as you empty your backpack so you can fill it with supplies.<br/>
<br/>
You still remember what happened when you made the mask up in your room—the smoke and the stink and the burning—and you're not going to repeat that, so after shoving the book and the mask and a few other things (like the mirror) into your backpack, you go down to the garage to pack up the rest of the ingredients. On your way through the living room, you tell your parents that you're going to meet friends. "Be back by eleven," your dad tells you in a preoccupied tone as he focuses on the television screen.<br/>
<br/>
But instead of driving out to the party, you drive a couple of blocks over to the Acheson Community Center. It's an old school building, built as an elementary school nearly a hundred years ago, but closed and converted to community usage a few decades ago. You don't remember the last time you set foot inside the community center proper, but last year you succeeded in breaking into the building through an outside door. It was at the bottom of a set of shallow stairs, and after you got the padlock off with crowbar (for you were in a mood to cause mild destruction) you found a basement on the other side. It was crowded with cast-off furniture—school desks and book shelves and cabinets and tables; exercise equipment and discarded sinks and plumbing parts; and even a giant, floor-length mirror—but you explored around it and made yourself a little fort, then put your own padlock on the door. A week later or so, you checked and found that your padlock was still there, whereupon you summoned Caleb and Keith out to look around, and for a couple of months you used it as a hideaway and secret bunker where you could hang out. But it's been months since you've been back.<br/>
<br/>
You're not heading there now, though, just to the school itself. Dusk has fallen, and you want to find a secluded corner hidden between two of the wings, where you can perform the second spell without being spotted. You find such a spot, and there's even a wide concrete porch there, in front of a door that must once have been one of the back entrances leading out to the playground. You set out all the supplies, then make a quick patrol to ensure that the community itself is dark and locked up, and that no one else is loitering nearby, before setting up the spell.<br/>
<br/>
It goes fast and with a lot less bother than before, to your surprise and relief. Though you mix the same ingredients into a bowl and fire them over the sigil, there is no stench or smoke, though it yields a runny slurry similar to what the first spell made. And then there's nothing else to do. After lifting the bowl from the book, a slight breeze makes the page beneath curl, and you turn it over to read by the light of your cell phone. It takes only a few minutes of work to confirm that you have now made the "sealant" which, if applied to the inner surface of a mask with a brush, will stop it from "absorbing" any more forms and will allow the mask, with its transformative powers, to be worn.<br/>
<br/>
The whole thing has taken much less time than you thought it would, so that it's hardly dark as you pack back up, but you return to home anyway, to snag a spare paintbrush from the garage, and to transfer the slurry from the open mixing bowl to a dusty Tupperware container that you find in one of your father's carpentry cabinets. Inside, you tell your parents that the party you went to was "lame," and that you're just going to watch a movie upstairs. Instead, you unpack your bag and hide the things about your room: under the bed, in the dresser, and on the shelves high up in your closet. You fire up a game on your console, but it's all you can do to stay engaged as you anticipate the experiment to come.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Midnight.</i> You have closed yourself up in your closet with your phone, the book, and the mask. You are prickling all over as you huddle in the corner with your back to the wall and your knees drawn up close. You are naked and chilly, but it's with anticipation that you shiver as you cradle the mask in your hands. It's a terrible risk you're running, and you know it. The risk of getting caught after transforming yourself into the duplicate of a classmate. The risk of turning yourself into some kind of twisted ogre because you messed up the spell. But the risk that troubles you the most, in fact, is the fear that you'll put the mask to your face, and ... nothing will happen!<br/>
<br/>
But there's nothing to do but try. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, then lift and press the mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself swoon, and fall into oblivion. Then you know nothing.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


