# chapters

path: 112211111112122221112212222111212213
author_id: masktrixie
title: How Do You Solve A Problem Like Marius?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>After dinner you get a chocolate bar from the vending machine. You shouldn't, but you need something to physically chew on as you chew over other matters.<br/>
<br/>
Marius is going to give the book to Mathilde. But does it have to be the real Mathilde he gives it to? You're almost done with the second mask, and if you can get to Mathilde before she sees Marius ...<br/>
<br/>
You're working out the final details of a plan as enter your room. But you stop short when you see Tammy-Lynn sitting on her bed, looking like she's been waiting for you.<br/>
<br/>
So you oblige her. "Fuck you," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"What happened?" You can see she's already itching for the gossip.<br/>
<br/>
"Why, so you can tell the whole year about it?" You cross over to crouch beside your locker.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't mean to get you into trouble!" she protests. "I was just talking!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're always 'just talking'," you hiss as you examine the shattered lock. "It's why nobody likes you, Tammy. Nobody likes a snitch."<br/>
<br/>
You're glaring at the lock, reflecting on how you're going to have to get a new one, when you're startled by the slam of the door. You look up to find Tammy — her eyes puffy with suppressed tears — looming over you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, the reason you don't have any friends, Jocelyn Moss, is because you're so self-absorbed!" she shouts. "It's always 'poor me, Mark won't notice me', or 'I wish I was in California' or just 'Eff my life.' You just follow Mary around when you're not moping," she continues as your jaw falls open, "and you never say anything nice to me, and you could just ask me if I've been through your stuff instead of—" She runs out of breath.<br/>
<br/>
Something rises inside you, like a piston, and the words burst out as you stand up.<br/>
<br/>
"Why would I even need to ask?" you shout. "You're <i>always</i> going through my stuff! Through <i>everyone's</i> stuff. You're not just a snitch, you're a snoop! And why shouldn't I be miserable? Look'it where I'm stuck! Look'it where we're <i>both</i> stuck! All of us! This shitty little town, a thousand miles from my friends, stuck here with you, and my parents never Skyping— How about <i>that</i>," you explode, "haven't you noticed <i>that</i>, you little snoop? Talk about 'self-absorbed!' How about you think about what it all means, what you see when you spy and snoop and snitch!"<br/>
<br/>
You touch your nose, which is starting to stream. "And when I finally find something that's actually fun, a little art project to take my mind off of this shithole, you manage to fix it so the prefects <i>take it away</i> from me!"<br/>
<br/>
Tammy hangs her head, but her expression is still black. "I never saw you doing any art."<br/>
<br/>
You fling open your locker and pull out a mask. It's mostly blue now, but with streaks of grey on its face. You hurl it onto Tammy's bed, then cross over to where your jacket is hanging, and pull out the design you copied from the book.<br/>
<br/>
"Wow, I guess you're so right, Tammy," you snort as you thrust it at her. "No signs of artistic activity here. But I guess it's my own fault for not keeping you informed of everything I do."<br/>
<br/>
Tammy winces, then turns on her heels and leaves. You pick up the mask and plop onto your bed. For the rest of the evening you lay there, polishing it with a furious energy.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Sunday drags. Mary – still moody because you spoiled her Friday night fun – announces that she and Corinne are heading into town with Vicky Benjamin to see a movie, and "we would invite you, but I guess you can't go". You shrug it off for the petty sniping it is, and walk down to the river bank. You're done with the mask, and with nothing else to occupy your time, you pull out your phone. There's another text from Mark there: <i>I'd luv to c u play soccer some time. Luv to play against u.</i><br/>
<br/>
As you read it, your heart beats harder even as it sinks.<br/>
<br/>
Because it's not addressed to you. He sent it to "StephWyatt," a fake account you created and contacted him from. You've been sending flirty little messages back and forth since that day at the lake: <i>Luvd meeting u, talking to u. When u be in town again? I play soccer, almost any sports. Luv getting physical, makes me feel good. Send me a selfie?</i><br/>
<br/>
That selfie. Mark did send you one. Him in his room and uniform, smiling with an open mouth, and his eyes crinkled up and glinting. You touch the photo now, imagining that you're touching him, pulling his tie loose and parting his collar, to rub his Adam's apple and put your nose and forehead to his throat. To kiss him again, like you did at the lake.<br/>
<br/>
You glance around. After he sent you his selfie he asked for one back of you. You need to do that, and you've got your Stephanie disguise in your bag with you. (You've always got it with you, for you don't dare leave it for Tammy to find.) The woods aren't far, you could hide there and put the mask on, take the selfie, maybe have a long text talk with Mark while wearing it. You being "Steph Wyatt" in the flesh and not just the ether as you text.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't yield. You're not just killing time, you're waiting for Mathilde to return, and you need to catch her as soon as she does.<br/>
<br/>
It's going to be a tricky thing to pull off. The school hierarchy is nowhere written down, but everyone knows it. At the bottom are the poor kids, here on a church sponsorship, their only hope of distinction coming from carving themselves out a niche. Same with the rich kids who want to distinguish themselves from each other. But then at the top are kids like Mathilde Ambard, a fucking French aristocrat. She's not just at the top of Mount Olympus, she hovers above it. Even the prefects take their cues from her.<br/>
<br/>
So what could Jocelyn Margaret Moss, a mediocre student who's never had style or beauty, have to do with someone who lives in a chateau? Nothing! In six years, you've hardly so much as spoken to her.<br/>
<br/>
Which is why, when 5:00 PM comes, and you finally spot her arriving back, you feel pants-soiling terror as you follow her into Founder's Hall.<br/>
<br/>
The door to her room is just slightly open when you reach it. You take a quick look down the corridor to make sure no one's watching, then knock lightly and slip inside without waiting for a summons. Mathilde turns with a look of surprise on her face. She's wearing a jacket over her shoulders as if it were a cape, a wool hat that looks cheap but probably had a three-figure price tag, and a light beige jumpsuit. She looks at you expectantly.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, I was just hoping Vicky was in," you stammer, and gesture at the empty bed. Mathilde gives you a slow, deliberate blink, but says nothing. "It's about this," you add as you fumble the mask from your bag. Still Mathilde says nothing, and only watches with her hands on her hips. Somehow, her silence is even worse than if she told you to get out.<br/>
<br/>
You kick the door closed with your heel and lunge straight at her, pushing the mask to her face and catching her as she slumps.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, you're going to need about half an hour if you're going to pull this off. The good news is that Vicky's gone, and your careful inquiries have told you she's not going to be back until 7:00 at the earliest. Carefully, you lay Mathilde out on her bed, set out your other supplies beside her, then start tugging off your own clothes even as you open up Mathilde's wardrobe. <i>Holy shit</i>. It's like an Aladdin's cave of couture, stuffed with dresses, trousers, even what looks like a fur hat and glove combo for winter. You rummage for something that won't be missed, and settle on a muted olive green summer dress. It's a tight squeeze and you have to suck in your stomach as it cuts you under the rib cage.<br/>
<br/>
When the mask reappears on Mathilde's face, you grab it up and apply the sealant. But you've not yet put it on—you're just getting into a pair of brown sandals—when Mathilde begins to stir. You'd anticipated that, though, and drop Stephanie Wyatt's mask onto her. Mathilde's form wavers, like a reflection in a disturbed pond, and then it's the sporty blonde lying there instead of the petite French girl.<br/>
<br/>
No time to marvel over the transformation, though. You drop to the floor and put Mathilde's mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
The clock shows that only seven minutes or so have passed when you sit up with a gasp. As you stand up, the dress that had been such a tight fit drapes loosely about your frame. Perfect, you think, but you hop over to the wardrobe mirror to confirm. You can't help but smile at the reflection there. Your short, silky brown hair flicks over your borrowed forehead, and your new cheekbones lead into neat chin and her oval lips with perfect cupid's bow.<br/>
<br/>
You'd love to preen, but you can't spare the time. "Stephanie" is still passed out on the bed, but she must be near consciousness, for her eyes flutter as you lay your hand across her brow. You mutter the incantation and pull, and the mask comes away in your hand; Mathilde plunges back into a deep sleep. You shove the mask, the sealant, and Mathilde's cell phone into your bag. You're about to rush out when you realize the real Mathilde wouldn't be seen dead without at least some makeup, and you hastily grab the lipstick from the dresser to add a touch of pink.<br/>
<br/>
That's all you have time for, though. You've got about 10 minutes to find Marius and get the book back before Mathilde wakes up. After that, you'll be running the risk of having two Mathilde Ambards walking around the school!</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211122122221112122131
author_id: masktrixie
title: French for Beginners
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can barely contain your glee as you step from Mathilde's room, and have to force an imperious twitch onto your lips even as you want to laugh out loud.<i> I am Mathilde Ambard!</i><br/>
<br/>
You catch yourself walking too fast as you stride down the hall, and slow up into a more deliberate, haughty stride. I'm the empress of the school, you remind yourself.<br/>
<br/>
It's an amazing feeling. If being Stephanie Wyatt made you feel desirable, being Mathilde Ambard makes you feel powerful. At the head of the stairs you meet Bailey Kinney. As JM, you'd have to dance awkwardly around her. But Bailey backs away to let you sweep past, and you giggle to yourself as you ignore her. You could revel in this borrowed confidence for hours, but you've only got nine minutes to find Marius. Anything after that runs the risk of discovery.<br/>
<br/>
You pause in the middle of the corridor to check Mathilde's cell—maybe Marius gave her a location to meet at? But her cell is locked, and you momentarily panic at knowing the code. Then you remember: <i>I am her! I've got her fingerprints!</i> The phone unlocks as you press a thumb to the phone. Then another moment of panic: The messenger app is all in French! But the layout is the same, and soon you are scrolling through a cascade of messages from Marius. He and Mathilde, it seems, talk a lot, but you don't have time to do a Tammy-Lynn and snoop. Instead, you quickly find the unopened message asking Mathilde to meet when she gets back. With a quick swipe you delete it, and resume your search.<br/>
<br/>
Luck is with you. As glance into the game room as you pass, and spot Marius and Ryan Hall (no relations to each other) bent over the pool table. You fold your arms and wait in the doorway with suppressed impatience for them to notice you.<br/>
<br/>
Pool balls click softly together, then Marius catches you out of the corner of his eye. "Hold up a sec," he tells his partner. "Bon soir, Mathilde, ça va?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit. Don't tell me he's going to carry on the entire conversation in French!</i> "Stick to English," you improvise. "Your accent is terrible."<br/>
<br/>
Marius smiles. "Hey, I don't sound anything like that!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Double shit!</i> You're speaking with Mathilde's voice, but you haven't got her natural, rolling French lilt—you're speaking with a Californian accent! Have you got an answer? No. So you force a micro-smile onto your lips. That's Mathilde's usual signal to get to the point.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah, my text," Marius says. "So I was wondering if you'd help with a small house matter. Jocelyn Moss … Do you know who she is? She has this book, and we'd like to know what it's about."<br/>
<br/>
He sets his cue against the wall and steps over to a small end table, where a briefcase is lying. He opens it and takes out a book bound in red leather. Your heart beats faster. <i>This is working!</i> But you can't let your imposture drop now. Even as he proffers the book, you you hang back, as if trying to decide if this is an utter waste of your time, then shrug and walk over to take it. For the briefest moment his hand touches your own, and you feel a quick burst of electricity. <i>Are Marius and Mathilde an item!? </i>Something in the way he leans in toward you sets your pulse racing. Or maybe it's the excitement at using the book's magic to get the book back.<br/>
<br/>
"She says she bought it for some art project," Marius continues as you open and slowly flip through the book and pretend to study the pages. "I'm inclined to believe her. She's in my law and politics classes, and she's always been on the level. But there's an old school bylaw about, uh, alternative religions. It's got a pentagram on it, and if it's some kind of, I don't know, spell book or something ..." He trails off.<br/>
<br/>
Is he really unsure? Didn't he notice those weird, transforming faces on the front papers? Didn't he try to translate this page which talks about taking blood? Or the next, which is a spell for making masks? Or the one after that, which makes a magical sealant? Or the one after—!<br/>
<br/>
You freeze. That page was locked the last time you had the book! But it's unlocked now! Your heart goes into your throat.<br/>
<br/>
You cover your excitement with a Gallic shrug, and make a big show of trying to pull at the next page. You try sliding your thumb between pages deeper inside the book. You shake it, and ostentatiously demonstrate that, except for the first few pages, the book is as solid as a block of wood.<br/>
<br/>
"Iz zis a joke?" you ask. "It is a piece of decoration. Nuzzing more."<br/>
<br/>
You half-expect Marius or Ryan to flinch and frown at your ridiculous attempt at Mathilde's accent. But Ryan says nothing, and Marius just looks confused.<br/>
<br/>
"A decoration?" He takes the book from you, and also tries opening it up at other places.<br/>
<br/>
"Yez." You give Marius a hard stare. "It iz , how you zay? A folly? A zhoke? Like walls zat look like bookcazes? It iz a brick, nozzing more. Zey zumtimes make zese, in the zame zpirit. Ze first payzhes, zey are just nonsonse Latin and zum pretty pictoorz. Zat is all."<br/>
<br/>
Marius sighs. "Pcheh! Why didn't JM just say so?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, cause it's Joss-Moss," Ryan says. <i>What the hell does that mean?</i> you wonder as he and Marius share a smile.<br/>
<br/>
But then Marius frowns and snaps the book shut. "No," he says. "I don't buy it."<br/>
<br/>
"Wut?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's got to be more to it than that. Why the hell would she spend all her time with a book that's just got a few pages?" he asks Ryan. He turns the book over and over his hands, pulling and pressing at the spine and cover. "Maybe it's not a brick, maybe it's a box. With a secret panel. Maybe it's got a hollow bottom?" he murmurs as he thumps the cover. "She was more bothered about losing this than her vape pen."<br/>
<br/>
Ryan says, "What would you keep in it?"<br/>
<br/>
Marius shrugs. "JM? I dunno. A dildo, maybe?"<br/>
<br/>
You blush.<br/>
<br/>
"Want me to have a look?" Ryan offers. "I've got a penknife in my room, we can cut this sucker open."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah," Marius says. "Lemme play with it tonight. If I can't figure it out I'll give you a holler."<br/>
<br/>
You tremble with impotence as you see the book slip from your grasp. But all you can do is arch an eyebrow with pretended boredom.<br/>
<br/>
Then the distant chime of a cell phone reminds you that you can't linger. But it's with a JM slouch rather than Mathilde's air of command that you slink from the room.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Thirty minutes later you are back at your desk. At least you managed to sneak Mathilde's cellphone into her room before she woke, and you changed back to JM – boring face, boring clothes – in the girls' bathroom without getting caught. But the thrill of being Mathilde still lingers, and you're aching to do it again. Everything about her life was just so much better than yours. If you could find a way to switch with her, or at least to carry out a longer imposture ...<br/>
<br/>
But none of it matters – it's all empty fantasy without the book. You're still raging at Marius's pig-headedness when Tammy-Lynn enters. You give her a quick glare, but she comes over to stand at the corner of your desk with her hands behind her back.<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanted to apologize," she says."I know I talk a lot. It just kind of spills out. And I'm just curious is all. I figure if I know more about you, then maybe we could be friends, rather than just two people stuck in a room together."<br/>
<br/>
You huff a little. "That's not going to bring my stuff back, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
Tammy looks down at the ground. "Well, about that." She brings her hands out, and holds out a book in red-leather covers, covered in gold script. <br/>
<br/>
<i>The book! </i>You gasp and leap to your feet. "What? How?" you scream, and throw your arms around Tammy-Lynn.<br/>
<br/>
She smiles. "I felt bad, so I went to talk to Marius. 'Parently, Mathilde had already told him it was a fake or something. A box disguised as a book. He was about to slice it open to see what you were hiding inside, but I backed you up and said it was all an art project. Showed him that drawing, told him you were making art stuff with it." She puffs out her cheeks. "I'm sorry, JM. I promise, from now on what goes on in this room stays between us. Truce?"<br/>
<br/>
You're too relieved to do anything but nod furiously and give her another hug. "I'm sorry about all the stuff I said too," you tell her. "And I'll do my best to have a better attitude." You seal the deal with a third hug.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You want to start on the next spell right away, but you don't want to make too big a deal about it, so you set the book aside. Instead you take out your phone and go online. You can hardly concentrate, though, until a text comes in. It's from Mark, to 'StephWyatt': <i>Wow, u look amzing. Mybe I can come 2 a game?</i><br/>
<br/>
You couldn't send him a selfie, but you did find a picture of the real Stephanie Wyatt. She plays basketball, and you sent him a news photo that shows her in action: tight shorts, revealing tank top, powerful limbs pumping as she rises into the air to make a basket. It's from a practice session.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Maybe</i>, you text back. <i>Still preseason tho. Gng to hv to get physical anthr way. ;)</i><br/>
<br/>
The reply comes back almost immediately: <i>U busy this wk? Mybe take u 4 dinner?</i><br/>
<br/>
You bite your lip. A romantic dinner with Mark Pederson! It's an offer that's too tempting to refuse… if only you weren't stuck at St. X.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111221222211121221312
author_id: masktrixie
title: The Mind of Mary
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As much as you yearn to spend time with Mark, it’s just unfeasible. Any absence is going to be noted by the prefects, and the sheer logistics of changing into Mathilde, then into Stephanie, then back to Mathilde, is just too daunting.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh, and type your answer back to Mark. <i>School nuts ths wk. Patience. Good things cm 2 those who wait. ;)</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Life at St. X feels more empty and pointless than ever. The book has opened your eyes to an entire new world, and it’s frustrating that you’re still stuck straddling your old one. The next page of the book, you decipher, requires a metal band, and you spend your evenings – supposedly in study – whittling away a set of intricate runes that seem to have almost been made up at random. You’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do with it, but you’re too invested in the book now to give up.<br/>
<br/>
You’re almost finished by Tuesday morning, when you get into your uniform and slip down to the breakfast hall, sitting down quietly at the end of the table occupied by Mary and Corinne. Mary’s still making pointed remarks about “your life choices” on Friday, but you just let it wash over you. The conversation a few tables down is far more interesting.<br/>
<br/>
“So how’s it going with Lake Girl?” Jacob asks Mark, judging him with a keen eye.<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, good, y’know,” Mark answers in reply.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, but how good? Like, on a scale to floppy cock to rock-hard boner? She sent you any dirty pictures? You want to share ‘em?”<br/>
<br/>
Gross. You can see Emily Dustal, sitting opposite him, also takes a poor view of Jacob’s idea of romance too.<br/>
<br/>
“If she had, it’s not like I’d be sharing them with you,” Mark says. There’s a pause and a smile. “Well, not until she sends me something really dirty.”<br/>
<br/>
You look down at your plate and clench your jaw. It feels like your ears are burning.<br/>
<br/>
“Knock it off,” Emily tells them both. “I’m being serious.”<br/>
<br/>
“So was I!” Jacob says, followed by a brief *ouch* which you assume is a kick under the table for his trouble.<br/>
<br/>
“Honestly it’s pretty chill right now,” Mark says, answering Emily’s question with sincerity. “We’re just talking at the moment, but I like her. I checked the school sports schedules, there’s some kind of exhibition game she’s gearing up for on Saturday. She said she played pretty much all sports, so I was thinking of heading into town and surprising her.”<br/>
<br/>
<i>Crap!</i> If Mark does follow through with his plan, he’s going to end up with a very confused Stephanie Wyatt.<br/>
<br/>
“Well,” Emily says, “just so long as you remember she’s only a townie. Don’t get too attached. And if she breaks your heart, then I’m going to find her and kick her ass.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Tuesday’s classes drag, and you pay so little attention during softball that you almost get smacked on the head by a ball whizzing in your direction. You’ve got to work out a way to get into town and be Stephanie – and you’ve only got a few days to do it. Worse, Saturdays are when the prefects are most likely to be watching for you to try and slip out and back. You’ve got to get the ban overturned somehow.<br/>
<br/>
Unable to come up with a plan, you focus on the strip of metal, etching out the last of the marks and blowing the soft curl of metal away from the engraving. You hold it up to the light, turning it over in your hands and wondering what the hell it does. It’s made, however, so you slip your hand over the book’s page to see if it turns – and it does! There's just a single phrase on the other side. Your stomach cramps with excitement as you open up your laptop and begin to translate the crazy words. And it doesn’t take long to realize what the band must do: to know the mind of another. Given the rest of the book is about stealing someone’s identity, you assume it’s so you can act like your victim a little better, such as pulling off Mathilde’s accent. Maybe even speaking French! In a second you’re on your feet, hiding the book away and making your way down the corridor…<br/>
<br/>
But then a thought hits you. Is Mathilde’s mind really the one that’s going to help you with Mark? And what if it doesn’t work like that at all? You need another guinea pig. And there’s one brain you’ve been curious about for a very long time. You rap on the door of G9.<br/>
<br/>
“Enter,” a voice commands. You step inside. Samantha Tait is furiously texting on her phone, but you’re not here to see her. Your target is on her bed, sat upright as if she were a queen greeting a supplicant. “JM,” Mary says impassively. “What brings you here?”<br/>
<br/>
“I was wondering if we could talk,” you say. “About Friday.”<br/>
<br/>
Mary’s nose twitches. “Very well,” she states, before giving a short cough to clear her throat. It’s enough for Sam to get the message and exit the room, brushing past you without a word. “What about last Friday.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry I spoiled your fun,” you say, closing the door. “I… just thought we’d have a better chance of getting a few bottles if we took them at a house party. Those three could never have pulled off getting anything from a liquor store.”<br/>
<br/>
“It would have been fun to know they tried,” Mary says, without smiling. “Besides, I’m not going to drink whatever cat’s piss the townies drink at their little barn-raisings.”<br/>
<br/>
“I already said I’m sorry. And to make it up to you, I made you this. It’s a friendship band.” You show the metal strip to Mary. She casts her eyes down, then up at you.<br/>
<br/>
“Why the hell would I want that?” Mary asks dismissively. But it’s given you the opportunity you need: in less than a second, you push your hand up and thrust it against Mary’s forehead. It vanishes as if melted into the ether, and you take a deep breath, walking over to sit on the bed by her unconscious form. As soon as the band reappears, you grab it and make your exit, rushing to your room to try it, confident that Mary will make up her own story about what happened.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
An hour later you’re knocking on another door. It opens and you find yourself staring at the devil herself: the angelic face of Abigail Steiner.<br/>
<br/>
The door opens and you find yourself staring at the devil herself: the angelic face of Abigail Steiner. Her hair flows down her shoulders, and her deadly stare at you with a smile of near-drunkenness. Which is exactly the snippet you stole from Mary’s mind: she’s <i>high</i>. Abigail Steiner is a pill junkie. It’s a little fact Mary uncovered at the end of last year – which is how she got the best room and immunity from Abi, Vee and Kristen’s gaggle… and why you got stuck with Tammy-Lynn in retribution.<br/>
<br/>
“JM,” she practically purrs as she rolls her neck from side to side. “What can I help you with, hmm?”<br/>
<br/>
“I want you to get Marius to reduce my exeat ban. Get it lifted by Friday.”<br/>
<br/>
Abi’s smile widens maliciously, even as her fingers stroke the varnished wood of the door frame. “And why would I do that? A vape pen. Tsk tsk.” She wags her finger. “Very naughty, Jocelyn.”<br/>
<br/>
“Because I know about your little problem. And I’ll make sure others do, too.”<br/>
<br/>
Abi’s jaw muscles tighten almost imperceptibly. “What problem is that?” she asks, her voice’s dreaminess slipping closer to a nightmare of wrath.<br/>
<br/>
You smile. “Being stuck here’s such a bitter pill, y’know?” Abi’s smile drains. She blinks, a little too rapidly. “I’d hate for word to get around the school that our prefect is a speed freak.”<br/>
<br/>
Without a word, Abi grabs your clothes and pulls you into her room, pressing you against the wall. Despite her small frame, she’s much stronger than you are, and you can see the drug haze in her eyes. Fear takes hold as you wonder if she’s going to kill you. Given what Mary knows, she’s probably crazy enough.<br/>
<br/>
Abi leans in so close you can smell her breath. “You really want me to make your life a fucking hell?” she snarls, the beast inside her barely restrained. “Because I can and I will.”<br/>
<br/>
“I want you to get me out of this shithole,” you say, staring her in the eye and trying not to let her see how terrified you are of what might happen. “Get the ban from leaving school dropped and I’ll forget everything I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck that,” Abi says, tightening her grip on your arm. “You think I’m stupid, you little west coast bitch? I’m the one in charge here, you don’t come and fucking extort me! Who told you? Mary? Hmm? Had to be. Well she’s fucking over in this school. Done.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t care,” you say, keeping your breath steady. “I don’t care about your little secret either. I just want to go into town once in a while.”<br/>
<br/>
Her grip digs deep into your flesh. “That’s it? You’re trying to fucking blackmail me over a few trips to Saratoga fucking Falls?” She snorts with contempt, then suddenly lets go, flicking her hair back and taking a breath. A hand rises up, and she flicks you hard on the forehead, laughing as you flinch. “Jesus, you’re pathetic.”<br/>
<br/>
You breath slow, trying not to show weakness but, of course, showing little else. “Do we have a deal?” you mutter, unable to look in her in the eye.<br/>
<br/>
“Why, of course, JM,” Abi chirps, the sinister notes of her voice faded away. “Sure, I’ll talk to Marius for you.” You look up, and see she’s smiling once again. “But that’s it. There’ll be no more favors. And if you ever breathe so much as a word to anyone, you’ll get it even worse than what’s coming for Mary.” Her smile stretches ever sweeter. “And believe me, you don’t want to find out what I’m capable of.”</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221112212222111212213121
author_id: masktrixie
title: Errands of an Errant Magician
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Good morning, ladies.” You look up from your breakfast, suddenly on edge. Abi has walked over to your table, where you, Mary and Corinne are eating. She waves an envelope. “There’s a mail call. JM, this one’s for you!” She’s practically bouncing as she passes it over. “Oh, and by the way, the prefects have decided perhaps we were a little harsh, and that we’re going to commute your exeat ban. You can go out tonight, if you like! In fact, here’s the pass you asked for.”<br/>
<br/>
You take the paper in hand, and look at Abi suspiciously, but she just smiles and turns to leave. Unceremoniously, you hook your legs out from under the table and chase after her. “I didn’t ask for a pass tonight,” you say.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, but you did,” Abi replies, her voice somehow dripping with venom even as she smiles and walks through the dining hall crowds.<br/>
<br/>
A sinking feeling takes hold in the pit of your stomach. “What do you mean?”<br/>
<br/>
“You really think I’m going to trust you to keep your mouth shut?” Abi says, the smile never wavering. You can’t believe she’s so brazen, even as she sits down next to Vee Macklin and Kristen Wright-Wallace. “I need more than that, JM. A little insurance, if you will.” <br/>
<br/>
“What does that mean?”<br/>
<br/>
“It means,” Abi says, casually shoving Kristen’s bowl away from her overweight friend, “that you’re going into town tonight to pick up a certain prescription. That way, if I go down, you go down.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at her mortified. “No fucking way.”<br/>
<br/>
Vee rolls her eyes at you, interrupting. “What’s the matter, JM? In over your head? It’s simple. You go down to an address, you pick up a small package, you bring it back.” She looks at you intensely, black eyebrows knotted over her hawkish features.<br/>
<br/>
“What address?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, JM,” Abi says almost derisively. “Why don’t you check your mail? You really think someone like <i>you</i> would get a letter?” <br/>
<br/>
“And if I get caught?” <br/>
<br/>
“Then I guess all the Adderall you’ll be carrying explains why you’ve been so obsessed over some stupid art project all year,” Abi says, before resuming her breakfast as if you weren’t there.<br/>
<br/>
You hadn’t expected this, but at least it gives you a chance to go into town. You’ve already translated the next spell, and you’re pretty sure what the ingredients you need are. It’s stuff you probably could get around school, but after your run-in with the prefects it seems so much easier just to buy them: there’s nothing banned and you can pass them off as art supplies. It makes what the book describes as ‘ferrumen’, which you think makes yet another paste, perhaps to bind the metal strip you’ve created to a mask, so that you can look and act like someone at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
And oh god, do you want to look and act like someone. The moments you’ve been Mathilde and Stephanie have probably been the most exciting of your life so far. It feels so taboo, so invasive and transgressive, but also so comfortable to see the world from someone else’s eyes. You’ve thought about it since the weekend, fantasized about stealing a few minutes as Stephanie to video chat with Mark, or waiting until Mathilde’s taking a shower and slip into her room, boss Vicky around, maybe try on a few of her things. It’s pure fantasy, of course: there’s nowhere to hide in St.X; someone’s always watching or just around the corner. Someone like Abigail Steiner. You’re still not sure if you really wanted to become a blip on her radar, but her demand has put you over a barrel. You can’t report her, you can’t turn her down. You're just going to have to do it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
The Pauper Wagon. The Bus of Shame. The ride into town has a lot of different names, but none of them are complimentary. You’ve never actually been on it, but it’s the fastest way into town – and you’ve got a busy schedule. You make sure you’re last off when the bus pulls up near the St. Francis Xavier Church – or cathedral? You’re never really sure – and loiter around for a few minutes until the coast is clear. Then, pacing around the building, you head to a small door set aside, out of the way, and crouch down to grab the spare key hidden under a nearby rock. You’re following the instructions on a typed sheet from one of the envelopes Abi handed to you.<br/>
<br/>
Part of you figures this is some ambush Abi’s planned, so you’re nervous as you turn the key. But you can’t see an angle for her. Downstairs is an abandoned old basement, with a few table tennis tables folded up. You ignore the mess, grab something to stand on, and hop up, feeling along the top of the beam. An object! You pull it down. It’s a small plastic bag, with three smaller bags inside containing different pills. What they do, or who they’re for, you don’t know or care. You shove them into your backpack and, rather than rush for the exit, lie down on the floor, taking out a mask as you set yourself down.<br/>
<br/>
If you have to be in town hauling around Abi’s stash, you’re going to try and steal a few hours of fun. Since you’ve discovered the book, all you’ve wanted to do is wear the masks for longer periods. It’s almost as addictive as the pills you’re carrying: like a quiet wish that’s been fulfilled. As you drop to the floor and lift the mask to your face, you feel a rush of anticipation, a thrill so powerful you can barely contain it …<br/>
<br/>
You wake with a feeling like you get on Christmas morning, and bolt upright. You admire your bronzed arms, and click your heels with glee. As expected, the hoodie fits Stephanie Wyatt perfectly. Saratoga Falls, you figure, is so big you’d be incredibly unlucky to run into the <i>real</i>Stephanie while you enact your plan. Scooping up your bag, you brush off the dust from your clothes and head up the door, out to experience this town through the eyes of someone else.<br/>
<br/>
The next hour is perhaps one of the greatest of your life. It should be dull – it’s just walking around, occasionally stopping in shops and buying from your curated list of materials for masks and this ‘ferrumen’ goo. You even stop in Arnholm’s to see if there are any more magic books, although the remaining leather-bound tomes in the rare books collection appear to be mundane. As JM, you’d be frustrated.<br/>
<br/>
But you’re not doing it as <i>yourself</i>, you’re doing it as <i>Stephanie</i>. Every time you catch your reflection gives you a chill, and the risk of discovery, of suddenly rounding the corner and meeting your double, makes you giddy. After ten minutes of nerves, you forget that you’re even hauling drugs around in your pack. And when you snap a few photos and send them to Mark, his response even makes you forget that you are an imposter in someone else’s skin.<br/>
<br/>
<i>U in twn? Cnt wait 2 see you again. </i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Cnt wait ethr</i> you type back, fingers shaking as you do. <i>Gng 2 b fun.</i><br/>
<br/>
Is it, though? As much as Mark was the object of your desires before, even this imposture only feels half-complete. Without the band, you’re only ever going to be wearing a costume. And part of you longs, almost needs now, to be someone else. You have no idea how you’re going to track down Stephanie and get a mind band on her, though.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a puzzle you’re mulling over when you pass a small coffee shop, and recognize a few of the girls who’d been sitting with the real Stephanie in the DQ that day when you copied her. The cautious thing to do would be to walk away. But something in you can’t resist the feeling of getting away with an imposture.<br/>
.<br/>
“Hey, Stephanie,” one of them greets as you step inside. You give a brief nod – you’re not sure if Stephanie smiles – and walk over. <br/>
<br/>
“Hi,” you say, trying to guess the girl’s name from the schoolbook splayed out front. “How’s it going, Bonny?”<br/>
<br/>
“Did you just call me <i>Bonny</i>?” The girl asks, smirking. “Uh, yeah, fine, <i>Craig</i>!” <br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit!</i>. You try and conceal your panic by putting your hands on your hips and not looking amused. The girls all stare at you for a second, before the one answering notices the book. “Oh! This? Yeah, just borrowing it. I should probably give it back to her. Guess we’ll see her Saturday, right?”<br/>
<br/>
A smile creeps to the edge of your lips. Information! “Guess so. What’s the plan for Saturday anyway?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, not like it’s set in stone,” one of the other girls sighs. “Most of us’ll be heading to the Municipal Fields about an hour before kickoff. We’ll beat Eastman, get something to eat, then head to Phoebe’s.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ugh, it’s going to be so lame,” a third interjects. “Is she still dating that sophomore?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sssh,” the last girl at the table hisses. “Why don’t you broadcast it across town? I’m not sure if we’re supposed to know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then they should be more subtle,” Girl Three – it’s easier to just number them – snaps back before turning to you. “You already said you were going though, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I did,” you nod, smiling ever more. <br/>
<br/>
The girls – not that you care who they are – have been a goldmine. Stephanie Wyatt is going to be at some sports game on Saturday afternoon. If you wanted, you could track her down and get a mind band on her. Or, even better! You could arrange a date with Mark at the same time, on the opposite end of town. There’s no way you’d run into the real Stephanie that way.<br/>
<br/>
But you yearn to make a real, complete disguise. And there’s a much easier option waiting for you back at St. X. Mathilde Ambard will leave the grounds on Saturday, and you share one of your lame-ass Saturday morning classes with her. It wouldn’t be hard to get a mind band on her, then spend an entire <i>two days</i> living her life free from discovery.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211122122221112122131213
author_id: masktrixie
title: Excuse my French
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're huddled in a back corner of the Art classroom, your heart beating hard, with an alert eye cocked at the other students. There's only a handful of them in this bullshit Saturday-morning elective with you, and they are all busy working with wet clay and water. You should be working too, at the half-finished pot on the worktable before you. But you have Mathilde Ambard to take care of. She is slouching against your shoulder, her head lolling against yours. It takes all your strength to keep her propped there.<br/>
<br/>
Pottery class wasn't the best place to try the trick, even here in the very back of the room, and already you're regretting it. What if someone looks around and notices that Mathilde is passed out and leaning against you? Your underthings are drenched with a nervous sweat.<br/>
<br/>
But this was the last, best chance you had to make a full-body Mathilde Ambard disguise.<br/>
<br/>
At last you hear a quiet plop, and glance over to see the band has dropped onto Mathilde's bosom. You pluck it up and look around. Everyone is still absorbed in their own projects. Even Ms. Arroyo has her back to you as she bends to examine the jar that is emerging under Aiden Nichol's fingers.<br/>
<br/>
You carefully push Mathilde over until her head is resting on the work table, then gather up your stuff. You tiptoe around the side of the classroom, and not until you're at the door do you raise your hand and call. "Uh, miss, can I be excused?"<br/>
<br/>
Ms Arroyo, a Latina with short black hair and chipmunk cheeks, looks up. "And why is that, Miss Moss?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Photography project," you say. "Trying to capture life in Saratoga Falls. You can check with Mr Winn if you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Go," she says, and turns back to Aiden. You scamper out.<br/>
<br/>
That's the beauty of Saturday classes: Even the teachers know they're utter bullshit.<br/>
<div align="center"><br/>
***</div><br/>
<br/>
You've never felt so alive as you slip into your room. From your footlocker you gather the book and breathlessly flip to the next spell. There's no mention of fire with this 'ferrumen' you have to make, but you grind out the paste beside an open window anyway. You have no idea how long it takes you—the butterflies make it feel as if time is standing still—but at last, it's ready. You slather some into Mathilde's mask, then take the metal strip from your pocket. Only now do you look at it directly, and see her name floating above it: <i>Mathilde Fabienne Hortense Ambard de Gavrillac.</i><br/>
<br/>
The very name sounds like an incantation! Words that will transform you into a princess!<br/>
<br/>
You press the band into the mask, and it instantly freezes there in place.<br/>
<br/>
Dammit! You should have checked the spell first, to confirm this is what you're supposed to do with it. But there's no time now. Already there are voices and footsteps in the halls outside.<br/>
<br/>
You scrawl a hasty note to Tammy-Lynn, telling her you'll be going away for the weekend, and shove the mask and book into your bag. Then you head back out to finish the rest of your Saturday classes. The hours pass with agonizingly slowness.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
When the final bell rings, you park yourself in your last classroom and look down to watch the traffic circle. Twenty long minutes pass before Mathilde comes out of Founders Hall with a small rucksack and climbs into a waiting coupe with some of her friends. She will be gone all weekend, as she is gone every weekend, leaving you free to be her here at school for almost two solid days! As soon as they drive off, you dash back to Founders Hall. Your heart is in your throat and in your fingertips as you knock on Mathilde's door. There's no answer, but the latch slides back when you try the handle. The room is empty.<br/>
<br/>
You've only minutes, maybe, to ransack the cupboard. And what an insane assortment there is to choose from! The navy-blue pantsuit? No. The white-and-black summer dress? No. Then you almost squeal: That retro 60-style miniskirt, woven of bright red and white plastic, and the blouse with the black fabric sleeves! You saw Mathilde wear it once last year, and it blew you away and made you sick with yearning for a body that could pull it off. You drag them out, stuff them into your bag, and hurry back out into the hall, pulling the door closed softly behind you. You can get the underthings later, when you are Mathilde Ambard and that is your room and your cupboard filled with your things!<br/>
<br/>
Well, for the weekend they'll be yours.<br/>
<br/>
Then it's back across to the academic building, which is open on weekends the same hours as on weekdays, but is always empty. There you'll be able to find a restroom with some privacy to complete your transformation from caterpillar to Monarch butterfly!<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
It's with a confident stride that you sweep down the stairs of Founders Hall again, fresh from your room where you added hoop earrings and some light makeup to your ensemble after returning there in Mathilde's—your—body. From the entryway you study the dining room layout. Where to sit? Not with Mary, of course, you sniff to yourself. Ah, really there can be only one choice: The "top" table, with Marius, and Rolf Draxler, and Andrew Addison. Of course, none of them own a castle!<br/>
<br/>
And yet the confidence you feel is mostly feigned. That metal band you made doesn't seem to be working. Wrack your brain though you will, you can’t think of anything Mathilde would know!<br/>
<br/>
It's not like it was with Mary's band, where you woke instantly to an almost perfect grasp of her memories. And it's not because you did the wrong thing with the band. It showed Mathilde's name, and when you checked the book just a minute ago, out of fear that you'd glued it in wrong, you confirmed that you'd followed the instructions correctly. And yet nothing that Mathilde knows will come to you!<br/>
<br/>
So you eat your lunch with polite but amiable silence, trying to act as Mathilde would, holding the cutlery as if you were a surgeon dissecting the Beef Wellington, eating small bites and ignoring the concept of dessert entirely. Maybe you just have to convince the mask you're her, and so you try to think like you think Mathilde would think. Oh, but how are you to know how Mathilde thinks if the band doesn't work? And though it's natural for you to fantasize about her chateau, would it be natural for Mathilde to? Would it be natural for her to visualize every nook and hiding place, and to replay in her memory how to get to the little bretèche above the gatehouse by squeezing along a narrow passage—?<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes widen! <i>That's something Mathilde would know!</i> If it's a fact! Is it? Or is it just your imagination running away with you?<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, your preoccupation seems to put up some kind of forcefield between you and the other students, and it's not until you're on your way back to her—your—room that you hear her—your name called.<br/>
<br/>
Something that nobody would ever do to Mathilde Ambard.<br/>
<br/>
It's Aiden Nichols. "Hey, Mathilde," he says as he hurries up to join you. "Are you doing better?"<br/>
<br/>
"At what?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, from Pottery class."<br/>
<br/>
You cover your panic—Someone must have noticed Mathilde passed out!—with a slow blink. "I'm fine."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, good. Look, I wanted to ask you again about that book they confiscated off Joss-Moss. I checked with Ryan again. He says that Marius definitely asked you to look at it, and you said it was all nonsense."<br/>
<br/>
You suppress a swallow. Why is this little geek checking up on that thing? It wasn't any of his business to begin with. "It wuz nonzenze," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a look. "Oh, come on," he exclaims. "You and I both know it wasn't. It was a spell book, Mathilde. So why'd you tell Marius otherwise?"<br/>
<br/>
"Zbell books are nonzense, aren't zey?" you reply. "Bezides, why zhould I twy to get her in twouble? Do you want to get her in twouble?" You give him your haughtiest look.<br/>
<br/>
But he just looks amused and returns your stare with a bold one of his own.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," he says, "I've got another question for you. Why'd you come back to school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gum back?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I saw you leaving with your friends. I shouted to you, but you were off and running before I could catch up. Now here you are again."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit!</i> "I janged my mind and had dem dwop me off again."<br/>
<br/>
"When I texted you five minutes ago, you said you were halfway to McGuffey City."<br/>
<br/>
Your reply catches in your throat. "I'm getting bored viz zis, Aiden," you stammer, "zo if you'll eggscooz me—"<br/>
<br/>
"And what's happened to your accent? You sound like a cartoon character!"<br/>
<br/>
Okay, that pisses you off, even as it terrifies you. "I don't have to ztand here and be inzulted!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, come off it, Mathilde! Everyone knows you start talking like a comedy cliche when you get upset. So what's going on? That book is something special, isn't it?" He grabs you by the elbow—How dare he!—and drags you to the side.<br/>
<br/>
"You're covering for JM, aren't you?" he says in a low voice. "There's something special about that book. Niamh and me got a close enough look at it to know it's not a prank prop like you told Marius. At least, it's not mostly a prank prop. And Tammy-Lynn says that JM has gotten obsessed with it. Obsessed! JM showed it to you, didn't she?" A gleeful grin spreads across his face. "She showed it to you and you're covering for her because there's something about it that you two don't want anyone else to know."<br/>
<br/>
He squeezes your elbow so hard that it hurts. "So what is it, Mathilde?"</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111221222211121221312133
author_id: masktrixie
title: Claiming Your Prize
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>A month ago you’d have panicked and told Aiden everything. A week earlier, you’d have come out with a string of excuses, justifying what he’d seen. But a month ago you didn’t know about magic, and a week ago you weren’t Mathilde Ambard. Something deep inside emboldens you.<br/>
<br/>
“I do not hav to explain myzelf to yoo,” you hiss, shaking your elbow free from his grasp as if his very touch offends you. You look in Aiden’s eyes, and, suddenly, it all makes sense! You let a full snarl emerge from your lips as you look down your nose at him, suddenly feeling far taller than Mathilde’s petite frame. “Yoo… worthless leetle junkie.”<br/>
<br/>
Aiden is about to speak but is taken aback. “Wha…” <br/>
<br/>
<i>Gotcha.</i> When you delivered Abi’s stash, you knew it couldn’t all be just for her: she had to be selling it, too. She mentioned Adderall, one of those drugs they give kids to concentrate, something that smart kids use to try and boost their performance in exams. Most of the kids at St. X don’t give a shit about test scores – they’re going to get into whatever college they want anyway. But then there are the geeks. The high achievers. The kids who can’t come second at any cost. The kids like Aiden Nichols. <br/>
<br/>
“You zink I did not know?” you say, voice drenched with contempt. “People like you, zey never know zeir place. You always want more. So you try und cheat, and when zat does not work, you create your leetle fantazees.”<br/>
<br/>
Aiden doesn’t reply. He just stands there, dumbfounded, not sure what to say. It only swells up your contempt for him further. “You are worthless, Aiden,” you say slowly, prodding your finger against his ribcage and letting it rest there. “You zink people owe you answers. You do not understand zat some people are just better zan you. Do not ever – <i>ever</i> – speak to me zis way again. Now get out of my sight.”<br/>
<br/>
He turns pale, as if someone’s just punched him hard in the gut. Then, uncertain, drained of all the confidence he’d built up moments ago, he backs off, heading down the corridor hunched like a wounded animal. You slow-blink with contempt, then march back to your room, flicking your hair as you go. Once there, you lean back against the door and take a deep, satisfied breath. You’re not sure if that was JM, or  Mathilde, or someone new but you’re certain you like the feeling. <br/>
<br/>
Aiden isn’t going to go away, though. Right now, it’s his word against the real Mathilde’s that she’s back at school – you doubt anyone else is going to remember clearly if she sat with them at lunch, at least enough for Aiden to make waves, and the genuine Mathilde’s not going to put up with his bullshit questions any more than you did. <br/>
<br/>
It does ruin your plans for the weekend, though. And, if Aiden is half as bold as you suspect he might be, particularly with his geek friends, Mariah and Niamh with her stupid haircut, you’re running a risk every second you spend at Xavier’s – the more people who see you, the more witnesses Aiden has that he isn’t deluded. You pull out JM’s bag from where you stashed it and head back to her room. Tammy-Lynn isn’t around, so you grab the rucksack and throw in the Stephanie mask, Mary’s band and your ingredients. Then you catch an Uber for Saratoga Falls. You can work out what you’re going to do once you’re there. You stay as Mathilde, though: what’s the point in changing back?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You’re dreaming of a sunny day on the left bank of the Seine, sipping high quality espresso in a café at the southern end of the Pont Neuf. In reality, you’re stuck in Saratoga Falls, sipping a frothing mess in the ridiculously named Koffee Kauldron. You have no idea whether it’s Mathilde’s thoughts or your own – a genuine memory or some kind of fantasy that you’ve conjured up. You must have fucked up the last spell, you decide, or misplaced an etching on the metal band. It definitely worked – the fact that her name appeared in the mask is testament to that. But for some reason her thoughts and personality haven’t come through like Mary’s, and you’re stuck trying to play Mathilde Ambard without the spark that gives life to her soul.<br/>
<br/>
At least, you figure, you’re out of St. X, and away from Aiden, Abi, Mary and the rest. You open up the book and turn the page to the next spell, bringing your phone out to work on the translation. As you do so, a message pings onto the lockscreen.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hey! Surprise. :D :D :D</i><br/>
<br/>
Your eyes go wide. Mark messaging ‘StephWyatt’! You quickly tap a reply. <i>Not today, busy.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>At the soccer game. Cn c u on the sidelines. Looking ::fire emoji::. Not playing 2day? Am cming ovr.</i><br/>
<br/>
You clench your teeth. <i>NO. DO NOT COME OVER. AM WITH FRIENDS.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Why nt? Got boys with me. Can all hng tgether, watch game then chill.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>I SAID NO, MARK. WILL EXPLAIN LATER.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>WTF?</i><br/>
<br/>
You think. How the hell are you going to explain this away? Then it hits you! It’s a wild punt, a Hail Mary given you can’t even see what’s happening on the other side of town, but it’s your only hope of stopping your charade unravelling. <i>Plz. Guy wth me ex. Will cause fight. Meet tmrw?</i><br/>
<br/>
You wait for the next message, but it doesn’t come. You have no idea what’s going on at whatever field Mark and the real Stephanie Wyatt are in, or what the fallout is going to be. You just pinch your nose and clench your fist in frustration. This was supposed to be perfect! This was supposed to be a whole new world for you! And instead you’ve picked up a stalker conspiracy theorist and a boyfriend so damn clingy he’s going to ruin everything! You shake with frustration, feeling that sinking feeling, deep in the pit of your being, that you thought you’d lost forever when you realized what the book could do. <i>Fuck. My. Life.</i><br/>
<br/>
You turn back to the pages open in front of you. Maybe the next spell has the answer. Maybe it’ll let you turn someone else – Mathilde or Stephanie or even Aiden – into stupid old you. Wouldn’t that be great? You could ambush the real Mathilde when she comes back, assuming you can find a way to polish up the stupid mask in time, and stick her as JM. She’d rant and rave that she was Mathilde, of course, but who gives a shit? She’d be in the body of Jocelyn Moss! Everyone at school would just think JM had gone insane, and you could get on with living a life that’s better than the one you were born to in every single way. <br/>
<br/>
It’s a fantasy you chew over, convincing yourself it’s the perfect solution, as you decipher the near-impenetrable Latin with only an online translator for aid. It’s for a ‘pedisequos’ – you draw a complete blank on whatever that could be. And, worse, the part you <i>can</i> translate isn’t something within your means: how the hell do you get several hundred pounds of <i>earth from a grave?</i><br/>
<br/>
You’re mulling that over, wondering how the hell you can even transport something like that, when the solution hits you. It’s already obvious that you can’t do this on your own anymore, but your options for allies are limited. Mary isn’t worth considering – she’d try and take control of everything. Tammy-Lynn might be better, but you still don’t trust her not to open her mouth and blab about the secretive world of magic to everyone. Aiden Nichols might have been the perfect candidate before today, but you’ve seen his true colors: beneath the veneer of helpfulness there would always be a risk of betrayal. And as for Mathilde… well. You doubt she’d forgive you for taking her life for a joyride.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves one option. It’s the riskiest, given you barely know them, but they’ve already proven easy to manipulate – and they’re in your debt.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You’re back as Jocelyn, outside the church, standing awkwardly in Mathilde’s clothes – at least a size too small for you. The church basement is the only location you know in town that’s suited to your needs: completely private and with access you can control. Abi’s drug drop will have to move, of course, but that – like whatever happened with Mark and Stephanie – is a problem for later. Right now, you need a base of operations away from prying eyes. Downstairs, you’ve stashed the book and the masks in a dusty corner, behind some paint pots that look like they haven’t been disturbed since the last century.<br/>
<br/>
You’re just losing hope that your new lackey is going to arrive when you finally see him pull up.<br/>
<br/>
Your prize. A townie boy with a pick-up that should be able to haul all the graveyard earth you need for the spell. And, better yet, a guy who – as long as he doesn’t flake out – owes you a forfeit of doing whatever you want. He’s everything you’re looking for in an assistant.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey,” Will Prescott says as he scrambles out of his truck's cab, a stupid fitted cap resting over his rabbity face. “What’s up?”</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211122122222
author_id: rugal
title: A Dream, Hobbies and a Book
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You decide that perhaps that is a little out of your price range and pull the money back... and when you do you've noticed that the page of the book has turned. This is definitely very strange you think, something about this book is engrossing in an almost supernatural way. It draws you in and you find yourself being lost in what you're reading, almost as if you were experiencing it yourself.<br/>
<br/>
You look at the page you've turned to, somewhere far away from where you'd started. You're a hesitant given what you've experienced but you can't really help it. You feel yourself drawn in as you study the words and begin to read.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake up with a start in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as you wipe the back of your hand across your forehead. Vivid dreams are nothing new to you but ones of such intensity? Those are much more rare and this might have been the most intense one yet. Like most of these dreams however you have a hard time remembering things down to the specific detail. Instead it's vague, half-forgotten images of things that had flashed through your mind.<br/>
<br/>
There was an old, decrepit town up in the mountains. Locals and buildings that were off kilter and disquieting, an atmosphere that was oppressive and unnerving. An old woman, wicked and frightening. There were others too; young men and young women and they seemed both strange and familiar. Something about them made you skeptical and yet also put you at ease. And there was the machine. A monstrous thing as big as a barn and seemingly as old as the town. Someone had strapped you into a chair near the machine and you were stabbed by a sharp pain.<br/>
<br/>
The machine clanged and sputtered as it came to life and the last thing you see is someone, you're not sure who, with something; a book or a manuscript or something of the sort. As things went black for you, you were jolted awake.<br/>
<br/>
With half-open eyes you reach over to the phone on the nightstand and check the time: it's about seven thirty. A full hour and a half before your alarm is set to go off. You lay back down and try to go back to sleep but after fifteen fruitless minutes you give up and sit back up. That dream is still racing through your head; occupying your thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
Was it a simple nightmare or something more prophetic? You generally try not to see what the future holds for you as to do so would make life boring. But occasionally as you sleep things will flash through your dreaming mind and it's only in hindsight do you realize that, though scrambled and disorderly, they were glimpses of things to come. But only rarely are they intense and never before have they unsettled you so much. After a few moments though you decide you don't want to consider it any more and push yourself out of bed.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you're up early dear," your mother says as you cross her in the hall. "Did you sleep well? Your insomnia isn't back is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm fine mom. I just woke a little before my alarm that's all," you reply as you grab a towel from the linen closet and head into the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
You feel bad about lying to your parents about why you've some times had trouble sleeping well. You suppose that in a way it's not a total lie but you could never tell them the whole truth for though they know of their daughter's interest in fortune telling, considering it as a fun and interesting little hobby, what would they say if you told them the truth? That for years now you've been able to see the aura that all living things possess? That with that aura and various methods -- tarot and astrology and hell, even a crystal ball once or twice -- that you truly are able to peer into someone's future?<br/>
<br/>
Your parents are certainly more understanding of your interests than most. To many at school you're simply that weird girl who likes magic and fortune telling, after all. But even your parents, tolerant as they are, would think you'd lost it. <i>You'd</i> probably think you were a little off yourself if not for your own experiences and the guidance being given to you by Priscilla.<br/>
<br/>
Priscilla, your mentor. You look up to her, you respect her. She's taught you more in a few months than all the books you'd read in a few years. She believed fully in you and what you can do. She taught you about just who you truly are. Because you're not just the weird girl who likes magic and fortune telling.<br/>
<br/>
No, you are Ursula Jensen and you are an oracle.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Once you're out of the shower and dressed in some of the clothing you wear for lounging around you join your parents for breakfast making polite conversation as they ask you about school and your job and other things though they do avoid bringing up anything related to your "hobby". They're tolerant of it, yes, but that doesn't mean they necessarily understand it or know how to talk about it. You wouldn't want to burden them with it anyway as, you have to admit, it's the type of stuff that really would only appeal to those already interested in it.<br/>
<br/>
It's too bad that here in Saratoga Falls that seems to be a small pool of people, some of whom you don't particularly like for their annoying and unwarranted know-it-all attitudes. You want to groan knowing that you'll likely be seeing them at work this evening and you're thankful that you otherwise go to different schools.<br/>
<br/>
But today is Sunday and you've still got the whole day ahead of you before worrying about work so once you're finished you head back and while browsing around on your laptop use your phone to make plans to go get lunch with Eileen Piper, your best friend, and begin to get ready. By the time you've met up at Panera though, it's grown, with Eileen having invited some other friends... largely her's though you've wound up hanging around and getting along with most of them too.<br/>
<br/>
Jennifer Wallace you've known since tenth grade but Lisa Palacki, Natalie Dawkins and Amy Bautista, a junior, are more her friends than yours. Still you've been around them enough that they don't really ask anything about your "hobbies" (and it's not as if you don't have other interests as well) so you're still able to enjoy yourself all the same. But lunch is eventually over and everyone has their own things they're going to be doing so all of you part afterwards.<br/>
<br/>
You still have plenty of time to kill before needing to worry about getting ready for work so you decide to head over towards Arnholm's Used Books to see if anything interesting has come in. The bell rings and you give a small greeting to Ted Arnholm, one of the two crusty old brothers that runs the store, and browse. Largely you check the fantasy section but unfortunately nothing quite catches your interest there.<br/>
<br/>
You look through a few more sections but still there's nothing much that you can see yourself bringing home, even among the occult section (filled with books written by people who have not even the first clue what they're talking about), and so you're about to give up when you walk by a case and the book inside grabs your attention.<br/>
<br/>
Its cover is a deep, almost bloody, red with a brilliant golden pentagram etched onto it. It's large and bulky, bigger than most of the other books you've seen, and if you didn't know any better you'd say it was less a book and more a grimoire. You notice too that the door of the case hangs open just a bit and so you reach out to open it completely and pull out the book.<br/>
<br/>
"Young lady, I'll ask you not to open our cases," Ted says sternly from behind the counter.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! I'm sorry but, um, the case was already open so I just thought..."<br/>
<br/>
With a grunt Ted moves from behind the counter and walks over to you. "Lemme see that," he says as closes the case only for the door to not stay shut. "Damn thing's broken," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Excuse me but how much is that book?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Just came in; part of our rare collection so two hundred and fifty dollars."<br/>
<br/>
Mentally you smart at that. You <i>have</i> the money but that's still expensive. But if this is a grimoire and not just a regular book... "Is it okay if I flip through it for a second? I might want to buy it," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
Ted's demeanor changes to something much more congenial. "For that much money flip through it for an hour for all I care," he says as he walks back to the counter.<br/>
<br/>
So you grab it, open it and are entranced by the title page with images that seem to dance and change in a way that's almost unnatural. You attempt to turn the page but to no success. You try again to the same result. You move your thumb to somewhere in the middle but still it won't budge.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, sir?" you say as you bring the book up to the front, "Did you know that the pages are stuck together?"<br/>
<br/>
Ted takes the book from you and attempts to open the book himself but like you he as no success in turning the pages. He opens the cover, grabs a pencil and makes a few strokes before handing it back to you. The price is crossed out and $2 is written beneath it. "You want it? It's yours. Maybe it'll make a good doorstop or something," he says. But he seems to notice your hesitation due to the pages being stuck.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell ya what: if you're unsure I can hold onto it for a day and let you think about it. But if you don't buy it by tomorrow then I'm just gonna sell it to whoever wants it. Gotta get rid of it somehow."</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111222
author_id: seuzz
title: Silas Merriman
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Blinking and shaking your head to clear it you turn back to a page early in the book. It is raggedly cut, but this section is more regularly laid out and put together. It seems as though a fairly substantial chunk of a much larger and more expensive book has been butchered and sewn into the binding of this farrago of nonsense. It even comes with a title page—<i>Silas Merriman</i>—and a publisher's imprint. The date "1896" is prominently displayed. You turn the page and begin to read ...<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
It was in the April of 182_ that Silas Merriman stood in the office, built in his grandfather's time, out of which his family conducted its business, and gazed through clear glass panes into the mast-cluttered dockyard, and said, "I am being driven from this city, Dernwood. I am made unhappy— nervous— indolent. A most vexing combination, I think you will agree. And it is this city, this charming city I have called my home since I was a boy, that is driving me out."<br/>
<br/>
"Baltimore is a most charming city," said Dernwood agreeably.<br/>
<br/>
There was a caesura in the conversation as Merriman continued to present his back to his middle-aged lieutenant and look toward the harbor. Dernwood was unfailingly amiable, Merriman found, and it was one of his best qualities, one that had endeared him to Merriman, and to Merriman's father, and to <i>his</i> father before him. One could always know more or less where Dernwood stood, and one could often be sure it was several deferential steps behind and slightly to one's left. But this was not the first occasion on which Merriman had had cause to reflect that amiability does not imply acuity, and that Dernwood's admirable tendency to expand amiably upon one's own remarks did not always lead to an expansion in the direction that one intended one's remarks to lean.<br/>
<br/>
"It is charming," said Merriman amiably in his own turn. "But not so charming that I should wish my troubles had befallen me in another city, from whose bosom I could quit myself with less regret." He paused so that his next remark would swell with force when it broke. "It fills me now with a horror to which I can put no name." He turned now toward Dernwood. "You understand how circumstances have changed, and have changed me and my relations."<br/>
<br/>
"Your relations, sir?" said Dernwood in some puzzlement.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean my cousin, of course. It has been a week, Dernwood—eight days—since we— since <i>she—</i> since my beloved and intended exchanged a wedding veil for a funeral shroud." <br/>
<br/>
"Oh, congratulations, sir."<br/>
<br/>
"Congratulations?"<br/>
<br/>
"I did not realize you were intending to marry."<br/>
<br/>
Merriman regarded his employee evenly. "Yes. That <i>had</i> been my plan— that is to say, that <i>would have been</i> my plan— had there not been this … <i>mortifying intervention.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I see, sir. I am sorry."<br/>
<br/>
Merriman wasn't entirely certain that the conversation had acquired the track he desired of it, but he continued regardless. "I was at her side again this morning. Rather, I was at the … place where she now lies. That was when the determination came over me." Dernwood again looked puzzled, and so Merriman hurried on. "I have already composed the necessary letters—they are there on my desk"—he gestured at a neat stack of large envelopes—"and have already sent off one very important post. Of course, I entrust the business completely to you in my absence."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." It seemed to Merriman that Dernwood had finally caught up to his meaning and to the import of the conversation, though he was a trifle annoyed by the sense that this mild man had only fully grasped it when the subject had come around to him and the responsibilities that Merriman intended to lay upon his deferentially stooped shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
"This is an old man's business," said Merriman, gently touching Dernwood at the elbow and lightly regarding him to see if the veiled implication should strike its target. "And I have not yet seen my first quarter century. There will be time enough later for me to attend to it. But for now there is the— the <i>horror</i> of this place. I must escape it." And that was the end.<br/>
<br/>
To put aside the book and keep investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><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: 112211111112122221112221
author_id: seuzz
title: Silas Merriman, Chapter 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>That Merriman spoke the truth when he said that the city of his fathers filled him with horror is not to be doubted. Nor is it to be doubted that the attempt to give this horror a name and a locus had left him utterly routed. It was not the city itself, in either its form or in the tissue of its buildings or citizens, that caused him to reel. The city contained many memories for him, it is true, but there was nothing poignant in or about its neighborhoods to fill him, who after all had been raised in a great house upon one of the larger boulevards, with gloom. Nor was it that Baltimore—by chance though it had been—was the place where he had grown up in the company of his cousin and where she had perforce abandoned him and all others before her second decade had ended. There were no nostalgic shades that lingered upon embankments or under church spires to remind him of what he had lost: there were no places where he might turn a sharp corner and think with a pain <i>There she is—Ah!, no, it is another, where</i> she—as he thought of her now—<i>where</i> she <i>once stood, where</i> she <i>might have been standing now.</i> Baltimore had its charms—so many people said—but they were the dreary charms of color and shape and texture and not, for Merriman, the sinews of experience, and remembrance, that bind a heart to city stones.<br/>
<br/>
It is also true that the determination to flee this nameless dread had come upon him that very morning as he stood in a small, walled-in court where ornate crypts and vaults stood shoulder to shoulder without quite embracing each other. He had stood there for an hour at least, contemplating the door behind which <i>she</i> had withdrawn so unexpectedly. Above its white walls he could glimpse the gray roof tiles and red brick chimneys of prosperous houses, and could hear the horse-and-carriage clatter penetrate from the streets. The day for this visit, he vaguely felt, ought to have been gloomy, with a bitter wind to bite at the back of his neck and rake dead leaves across the stony ground, but on this day in April the sun was bright, and a fresh wind, laundered and spiced by the bay, pushed wispy clouds across a pale blue sky. Spring had painted her best face for the occasion, and the merry sounds of the portage of people and goods bespoke a city cheered by the alteration of winter and pleased to celebrate it with bustle and profit. Even Merriman had felt the revived spirit within him, and had had to check his step and throttle a tune on his lips as he made his way to her resting house, so that the quiet spite he felt toward the day as he stood in the yard could not but be mingled with a certain churlish embarrassment at his earlier failure to don a suitable demeanor.<br/>
<br/>
This, then, had been the thought that had determined him into quitting Baltimore—the recognition that the site of his loss should be so temperamentally indifferent to the sight of his loss. But "spirit" rather than "thought" would better characterize the nature of his punnish rumination. Irked he had been by the blank happiness of a blue sky, but he had not consciously wished for low, dark clouds and a cold, dark wind to crawl spider-like up his spine—though the truth is that he would have been happier to feel that awful thrill as he watched that awful door, keeping company with the angels on their friezes, who in the appropriate season would have been weeping rain but which on this cloudless day had only seemed to gaze down upon their charges with a mix of anxiety and boredom. For Silas Merriman—who in truth had never expressed toward his "beloved" any intimation of such a feeling; who had actually found her more than a trifle shallow, being inclined rather to gossip about parties and engagements than the profundities of philosophy and poetry which were Merriman's own preferred subject of discourse; who had in fact once remarked behind his cousin's retreating back that it must be God who gives us our family because we would never have chosen them for ourselves—had found Jane Merriman Edwards a figure of greater beauty and pathos in death than in life. We may grant that it would have taken no great feat of acrobatics by sensibilities less refined than Merriman's to put the late figure over the quick one in the estimation. Jane, let it be said with a forthright honesty, had been a silly girl. But she had been sweet and mild, and a more perceptive observer might have seen in the sweet and mild day that found Silas Merriman at her resting place a fine tribute to the departed—finer, to be sure, than would have been the dour day her not-exactly-betrothed pined for, with a wind rattling the ghosts of the mausoleum. But Merriman, who had watched with consciously harrowed eyes as a heavy oak lid closed over the rose-enwreathed face, and who had leaned with deliberately heavy affect on his cane as the coffin was borne into the family vault, was not one to clutch a light grief when a great one was at hand. Rather, in the circumstances he had crushed it between his fingers and held it up to his gaping mouth and flaring nostrils, the better to catch the fragrance of pathos and deep sympathy and, yes, horror at the cutting down of girlish youth. There had been cautious, sidelong glances in his direction during the funeral, but he had been blessedly oblivious to them—and even more blessedly oblivious to the incongruity between his present emotions and the condescension he had shown his cousin's dumpy figure during her life. Only the year before, the sidelong glances had said without saying, he had laid his own father to rest in the same vault and been all brisk business about it. But neither did this attitude strike his surviving cousins and aunts—the men in his family seemed to die at an unnaturally young age—as wholly foreign to the Silas Merriman they knew. Shakespeare probably never wrote a sonnet in remembrance of a hard-headed merchant banker like Merriman <i>pere.</i> But poets are soft on girls who die young, and the Silas they knew was certainly soft on poetry, which he had brought back in abundance from his situation at Princeton only the year before. There had been no argument, then, only a subtle and almost imperceptible withdrawal of the company in embarrassed silence, when, after the funeral, Silas had bowed his head and taken to referring bitterly and wholly unexpectedly to the passing of his "intended."<br/>
<br/>
And so Merriman had found himself draped in a surfeit of emotion but lacking the dramatic stage against which he could show it in proper relief. Hence his determination to quit Baltimore, at least until a more suitable season should fall, when, in a properly rain-spattered cloak and with a broad-brimmed hat pulled down low upon his brow, he could stand again upon a certain spot and let grief swallow his heart without being distracted by a superfluity of birdsong. He had even fixed his attention on the particular location at which to take his respite: Ashgate. He had had in his pocket that very morning a letter from Roger de Vere which, among other business, reiterated in tones more polite than ardent an earlier observation that his college acquaintance might find a visit to the de Vere family plantation interesting and profitable. The Merrimans occupied themselves with the shipping of Virginia produce to ports overseas—or, rather, in the arrangement of such shipping, for the Merrimans owned no vessels and loaded no boats themselves, but instead arranged it so that goods that wanted shipping and ships that wanted cargo should find each other, and they collected a modest fee for this service. The de Veres resided in Georgia, not Virginia, and shipped through Charleston, not Baltimore, but Roger de Vere prayed that his friend might come and study firsthand his family's business, which was the growing of rice, as it might illuminate one side of the equation of which the Merrimans were the identity sign. It would likely be the only side of the equation Silas Merriman  would be able to study with equanimity, as even the sight of a rocking mast could cause his sensitive stomach distress.<br/>
<br/>
The afternoon of his final interview with Dernwood, therefore, had seen him post a letter to Ashgate, revealing that business in June would take him to Charleston, and continuing that, if Roger still found the prospect congenial, it would be Silas's pleasure to append to his trip a visit to the de Vere home. De Vere's positive reply found Silas, as Merriman had directed, in Charlotte, for it was part of his plan to leave Baltimore immediately but to move south only by slow degrees, so that his migration might have the appearance of a businesslike progress and not that of a sudden flight. Roger de Vere was sensitive but phlegmatic, and though Silas intended—and was, indeed, already rehearsing with elaborately dropping handkerchief—a fulsome recital of the tragedy that had struck in Baltimore, he judged it inexpedient to spring the full terror of it before stepping into Ashgate. Yes, the more he thought about it, the more delicious became the prospect of having it <i>drawn</i> out of him by his sympathetic friend.<br/>
<br/>
To put aside the book and keep investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><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: 1122111111121222211122211
author_id: seuzz
title: Silas Merriman, Chapter 3
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"The Redmond fields lie over in that direction. You know the Redmonds? Ah, no, of course you would not." <br/>
<br/>
These words were uttered in tones that sounded more kindly than their bare content might suggest, but their lack of prequel and sequel still rendered them very blank and heavy indeed. But even had they not rounded themselves off with that very self-abnegating punctuation, it is doubtful much would have come of them. The oppressive stillness of the Georgian July, it seemed, would not allow words and topics of conversation to hang tentatively in the air, from which they might be grasped, and still less did it allow them to slip free and wing liberally on a wind of thought and interchange. Instead, this remark, like so many others that had been made in the days leading up to this one, dropped heavily to the ground, panted briefly, and expired. <br/>
<br/>
Nevertheless, it was with an alert gaze that Silas Merriman turned toward the low rise that his friend seemed to have indicated. In truth, there was little evidence that Merriman was even staring in the right direction, for Roger de Vere had neither raised his arm nor tilted his chin as he spoke the preceding words, but had merely asserted them as though the thought they encompassed contained its own outstretched index finger. Such a strange kind of thought, indeed, it might have been, to heave itself from some back portion of the brain, cock a backward eye on the world, and thusly announce itself, for he and Silas looked out from the covered porch of Ashgate onto a moonscape of the sort that might easily vomit forth such a halt and puzzling thing. Only the day before, Silas had watched a cottonmouth—a serpent possessing a venom of extraordinary potency, Roger said—emerge from a patch of the broken cane and grass that spread in so many directions, glide with a throbbing power over the toe of his boot, and vanish into a nearby bog hole. Silas might have been prouder of the equanimity he had shown at that moment had he not been also aware that three days under the Ashgate sky—a sky that was clear of clouds but which still shone with a dull, leaden color, illumined by a burning copper penny of a sun that prickled whatever exposed skin its rays touched—had left his own nerves hanging so limp that they would not have allowed him to react with more energy had he wanted. He had remarked on this over "supper" with his friend, and his friend, after chewing slowly over both the observation and a bit of meat, had answered that it was "one of those things" that happen to people. Merriman might have inquired more closely as to which set of "things" his experience had been one of, and what it said about him that a member of such a set had visited him at Ashgate, but the air in the dining room that evening had also been stifling.<br/>
<br/>
It might seem, as it had soon struck Merriman, that the oppression that hung about Ashgate would neatly impede the emergence and evolution of conversations that had poetical or philosophical inclinations. And appearances, it may be said, were not deceiving in this regard. But though this left Merriman only a small field on which to marshal and maneuver his forces so as to encompass that larger design which had motivated his visit, it cannot be said that these impediments left him frustrated or discommoded, for, strangely, neither the limply oppressive atmosphere nor the limply nerveless conversation completely hung a shroud over the exercise of poetical or philosophical inclinations. Indeed, Silas soon decided that what shrouds they hung were curtains framing deeper advantages, for he discerned that it was actually in his silences that de Vere was most poetic and most philosophical, and in these silences Merriman was pleased to discover awful depths in his friend.<br/>
<br/>
There was, for instance, the profound, and, it must be said, eminently justified appreciation his host showed for the swamps and fields from which his family had extracted a living: no more forbidding landscape had Silas ever gazed upon. But that appreciation was most expressive in the heavy looks de Vere wore when pointing out its features to his visitor. "There is that, and there is the other," Roger would say apropos of some feature of the plantation, and Silas would follow his stare while sensing that from his friend rose a terrible admiration for the audacity of man that he should wring a living from such a fevered prospect. The absence of any family at Ashgate—for Roger had returned from Princeton upon receipt of the news that his father and brother, the only other de Veres at the estate, had been carried off by fever—further flattened the landscape; and, again, the depth of de Vere's appreciation for the unspeakable harshness of the loss seemed to vary in inverse proportion to the loquacity with which he declined to describe it. Only when Merriman politely and with no great interest inquired after the mechanics and finances of growing and selling rice did de Vere speak with copious, precise, analytical detail. The business ledger, it seemed, was even gloomier than the cane fields, but de Vere explained it all with brusque tones that suggested indifference: numbers may be terrible, he thereby implied, but they are less palpable than air—and certainly less palpable than the steamy Georgian atmosphere in which he lived.<br/>
<br/>
Only once had talk broken from these silent reveries that increasingly fascinated Merriman and into directions that he might have found conducive toward broaching the topic of the disaster that had befallen him in and driven him forth from Baltimore. On his second night at Ashgate, in de Vere's library, which its present owner had created by joining together some small rooms in the ground floor of the manse, the two friends had resumed discussions they had had as undergraduates but the year before at Princeton. The occasion was the presentation to Silas of a book of poetry that Roger had lately received from Europe, along with de Vere's absently expressed statement that such a gift represented a considerable sacrifice on his part, as items from across the sea were a rare thing to have at his family seat; to this he presently appended the remark that for that reason he often wished for a closer personal association with such an enterprise that might put him in closer proximity to the source of such items. Merriman had accepted the gift with due grace and effusive gratitude, which he did not abuse—though it might seem that he did—by seizing on the book's subject as the opportunity to renew his satires on his friend's excessive sympathies for the Cavaliers of the English Civil War. But de Vere took the jocular acidities in the spirit with which they were offered, and in his own grave manner riposted by accusing Merriman of an undue Germanophile enthusiasm, which he contrasted with his own admiration for Hume. <br/>
<br/>
"Impossible," Merriman had snorted. "The paradoxical Scot has been long exploded by Kant."<br/>
<br/>
"Paradoxical indeed," de Vere and replied, "that an argument for the transparency of intuition and knowledge should itself be so opaque." Merriman had laughed in good-natured agreement while his friend remained serious. "The genius of Königsberg proves too much. The roof of the house must always sit atop its walls. Infinity vanishes down the rat hole of antinomy. Things are because they cannot be nought. Do you not find it airless, sir?"<br/>
<br/>
"Indeed, I cry you, yes. But sensibility, not sense, is the lung with which we breathe. Or, Man does not live on the bread of philosophy alone. The wine of poetry must be near at hand." There had indeed been much wine at Merriman's elbow.<br/>
<br/>
"But is there no sense in the sensibility that goes in fear of the dark? I suspect the Germans of shutting their eyes against it, and pretending therein that all is light."<br/>
<br/>
"Possibly, sir, possibly. Or perhaps one must occasionally shut ones eyes that there might be darkness, so that one might still thrill to the far off cry of those that walk alone within it."<br/>
<br/>
That might have been de Vere's cue, for it was a general statement on the thrill of darkness and horror that itself cried out for a concrete example as illustration. But Roger had merely fallen silent and tilted his head as though listening for the just-bruited sound, and Silas himself had been too unmindful of the opportunity that chance had presented him to give his friend a "prompt."<br/>
<br/>
To put aside the book and keep investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><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: 11221111111212222111222111
author_id: seuzz
title: Silas Merriman, Chapter 3, continued
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>But then Silas himself had, as the months and miles had accumulated, rather passed out of the sphere of his earlier purposes and into a new preoccupation with de Vere's situation. Although his impression of de Vere now did not conflict with his memory of him at Princeton, his friend, when standing upon his home ground, seemed to give off implications that, to Merriman's perception, were not wholly captured by that simple word "phlegmatic" which he had been wont to apply to him. And so within the compass of those few days at Ashgate Silas already had begun a new "hypothesis" about his old classmate and was in the act of putting the finishing touches to it even as de Vere had been pointing out the Redmond estates. "Phlegmatic," Silas had mused to himself, ought to describe a trait of <i>character,</i> and as such would be the sort of thing that, though shaped and twisted by the violence of the outer world, bends outward from and has its thick and plunging root within the heart and brain of the man who possesses it. But his friend's essential quality—so he told himself now—seemed more unto a trait of the <i>nerves</i> and thus more like unto a passive characteristic of the mind's surface rather than an outgrowth of its hidden and involuted tendrils. This essential quality his friend possessed, Merriman decided, was his <i>sensitivity</i>— his tendency to vibrate to the subtlest rhythms of his environment— his medium-like ability to "pick up" and transparently transmit the essence of a "scene." Had Roger been gross and obvious in the way he exhibited this quality, Silas reflected, he might have condemned and dismissed him as a "sponge," a thing that saturates itself by unthinkingly gorging up its own environment. Something like that, it seemed plain, <i>had</i> happened to him in virtue of his long association with Ashgate, which had a certain phlegmatic aspect of its own that had seemingly got "into his bones," for even as he and Merriman had ridden their plodding horses down the white, rock-scrabbled road to the de Vere estate for the first time, Silas had again cause to note his friend's preternatural stillness, something Silas had noticed even at Princeton, where it had seemed to him that, both on his feet and in the saddle, his friend neither moved a muscle nor let tremble a flutter without deliberate intent. As it happened, a chance remark later had given Silas an explanation for this uncanny way of holding oneself, for as he had twisted at the bite of perspiration between his shoulder blades Roger had drawled laconically, "You'll find it don't itch so if you don't squirm." In that statement Silas had privately seized upon an insight into the curious manner—a manner that had increasingly occupied his mind as he watched his friend—that open frankness and perfect affectlessness could embrace each other upon a face and be grafted with each other in a way that could lead the observant, such as Silas himself, to find in Roger a profound "reactor"—for de Vere rarely stirred himself to issue an open remark—to the world. It had been Silas's considered fancy even at Princeton that Roger's face was like a clear surface through which could be glimpsed deeps not easily ruffled by surface disturbances—deeps, he now saw in a flash, that were held in a state of viscous suspension through the extraordinary exercise of their possessor's will. This was what made de Vere's company—which might have struck others as tediously reticent—so richly rewarding to Silas, for when gazing into those transparent depths Silas had marveled to see reflected on and within his friend's soul the moral and aesthetic limns of the outer world: the perfume of knowledge that floats from a newly opened book; the gratitude one feels for a husk of dry and simple bread after a day of honest toil; the languor of Sabbath rest taken in bed while all others take it in a pew—the vertiginous plunge of poetry; the pity and horror of murder; the senseless rage of the sea—Athens; algebra; and the inky, palpitating spaces between the stars. <br/>
<br/>
Yes, Silas Merriman much admired Roger de Vere, and much admired his taciturn friend's sublime ability to glow, effortlessly and wordlessly, with Merriman's own most profound emanations.<br/>
<br/>
There was, he now thought, a curious emanation from de Vere's obscure reference to the Redmonds. It was easily apparent that he—that is, Silas—could not possibly be acquainted with a family, however august, that resided on the fringes of the great eastern swamps of Georgia. Thus the almost immediate withdrawal—<i>Ah, no, of course you would not</i>—of the question after it had been asked. But Merriman found himself kicking at the limp and aborted remark and fancied he had seen in some inner flutter it had made as it dropped a vibration toward other meanings. To introduce the Redmonds was to introduce near neighbors—near neighbors who might be the only representatives of the tissue of society that Silas perceived lay only thinly upon this recessed Georgian landscape. They would hold a significant position in relation to his friend, then, and Merriman felt with a vivid twinge the possibility that he had been too much monopolizing his host's attention. The remark about the Redmonds, perhaps, he should construe as Roger's subtle hint that he wanted more company. There was only so much about the workings of the plantation—the cultivation and harvesting of rice, the keeping and the purchasing of slaves, the negotiating of contracts and transportation fees—that could occupy the time, and most of these de Vere had already shown and explained to his guest with patient gravity.<br/>
<br/>
To put aside the book and keep investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><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: 112211111112122221112221111
author_id: seuzz
title: Silas Merriman, Chapter 3, concluded
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"They are charming people, the Redmonds?" Silas asked, for charm meant a great deal to him. The heat of the summer day, it should also be noted, had such effect that there was no necessary correlation between the passage of subjective time and time as it is measured by the clock, so that it can scarcely be determined whether there had been a brief or lengthy pause in the conversation, nor whether either Silas or Roger were aware of the existence of such a suspension.<br/>
<br/>
Be that as it may, Silas perceived in de Vere's eye an inward retreat, as though he were withdrawing to test upon some inner mental scales the range of answers to this new question. Possibly it had never occurred to Roger that the word "charming" might be applied to the Redmonds; possibly it surprised him that others might infer from his reference to them that he found them charming; possibly he was simply surprised that this late observation of his had "caught." His reply suggested that, in whatever spirit he had undertaken to weigh his answer, his conclusions had been equivocal.<br/>
<br/>
"Some of them are charming, yes."<br/>
<br/>
"But the Redmonds as a whole are not?"<br/>
<br/>
"The Redmonds are a family, not a boulevard. I would neither apply nor withhold the adjective."<br/>
<br/>
"I take the point," said Merriman with some magnanimity, for he thought his friend's remark very clever. "I will also accept your judgment that some of its individual members do charm. I should like to meet the charming ones, and if it is awkward to separate the charming from the uncharming, I would be willing to endure an encounter with the latter as well."<br/>
<br/>
De Vere turned slowly and without quite looking at Merriman did look vaguely in his direction, and after a brief apparent reflection on his guest's confession, signified with a brief bow of the head that an introduction to the Redmonds would shortly be made. That done, with another small gesture he suggested that they move off the porch, on which they had until this point been standing, and onto the grounds. The day was still hot and thick with heavy curtains of near-steam, but the sun was lower than it had been, which evidently meant it would be more comfortable now to take in a new sight. This time de Vere did raise his arm to point. "That is where the Eliots once made their home, but they went off to a new situation some years ago. They still hold the land and will not give it up, though. I tried some months ago to purchase it with some small excess capital I had acquired, but they declined even a price beyond its value. They evidently still harbor hopes." <br/>
<br/>
This last observation suggested an unfathomability to the Eliots' reasons, whatever they were, but Silas could find no key with which to test the lock. "You are hemmed in by your neighbors?" he merely said.<br/>
<br/>
"No, not entirely," de Vere admitted. "That over there," he said, nodding in a slightly different direction, "is not claimed. But it is bad land and no one will have it."<br/>
<br/>
To put aside the book and keep investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><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><br/>
"Has a study been made of it? I am surprised that anything can be grown out here, and you and the Redmonds should be congratulated for hard work and ingenuity. But there have been advances in the agricultural sciences, and now land worse than this, I fancy, could be brought under management."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it is simply bad land, and one only need look at it to see at once that it will not do."<br/>
<br/>
The land in question appeared to consist of more boggy lowlands, though not so low and not so boggy that it struck Merriman's ingenuous eye as immediately worse than that de Vere had lately shown his guest with quiet pride. It was perhaps made worse by a large, low hill covered in a forest of spindly and unwholesome looking cypress trees. The prospect offered by that hill did in fact offend Merriman's aesthetic sensibilities; perhaps there was an agronomic corollary to the brooding miasma that it cast over its domain. <br/>
<br/>
"You have fenced it off, I perceive. That is what led me to expect you had neighbors in that direction."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, I have fenced it off," de Vere said. "That is, my late father did. It is dangerous ground, though it shades imperceptibly into evil— so to speak, into evil, that is." Silas's fine mind for detail caught a stumble in what had just been said. "Some of my land in fact lies upon the other side of that fence," Roger continued, "but I keep it fallow and do not send the gangs into it. The— " Again, it seemed to Merriman that his companion was troubling over words, not so much to find the correct phrases but so as to avoid them. "The disadvantages appear without warning."<br/>
<br/>
"The Eliots were also hemmed in by the bad land?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but they did not keep a fence," said de Vere, as though that had some bearing, in a way that Merriman found obscure, upon the topic.<br/>
<br/>
The conversation stepped onto other paths at this point and mostly concerned itself with the nutrient values in the soil and the fluctuating demand value of various crops—ground that the two conversants had covered before but which de Vere seemingly wished to reintroduce as an oblique explanation for why certain available land should be "bad." Merriman did not pay very close attention, as even he would have admitted; he found himself newly occupied by Roger's promise to introduce the Redmonds: having just "solved" de Vere, he was already looking for a new challenge and anticipating the effect that the Redmonds—especially the charming ones—might make when reflected in his friend's "glass." It was as a corollary to this that he found himself eyeing the interior arrangement of de Vere's private study after dinner and—as his friend pored over some business accounts with highly audible groans and sighs—contemplating ways that the furniture might be rearranged to present more a more striking effect when caught by the evening sun.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211122211111
author_id: seuzz
title: Silas Merriman, Chapter 4
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The next morning Merriman came down to breakfast to find de Vere already dressed and arrayed for their expedition to Avalon, which was the seat of the Redmonds. The alacrity with which he had prepared himself seemed to Merriman supporting evidence for the conceit that his host was eager for relief with new faces, so he breakfasted quickly and joined de Vere at the stable, from which they drew two mounts and were soon cantering along the road toward his neighbors.<br/>
<br/>
Avalon, when it came into view, proved nearly the twin of Ashgate—a comfortable but not overly big house with large porches and windows that looked out onto the blasted landscape that all the plantations in that quarter of the country shared. This, of course, did not interest in the least Merriman, whose eye more quickly sought out its inhabitants. In William Redmond, the patriarch of the clan, he found a stooped and sad-eyed man with thin shanks and a pendulous belly. His wife, with her sharp, dark eye, was a more charming sight, but she daunted her visitor's wit with a thin, pointed nose that she seemed to wield like an augur. There hung in the background two thin male youths who compounded in their countenances their father's sad and mother's suspicious glances: they whispered in each other's ears, and their smiles suggested to Merriman the invention and sharing of unfriendly jokes at his expense. But as unwelcoming as the Redmond clan seemed to be, Merriman found that it scarcely mattered, for they might have been an exceptionally ugly frame hung to augment with their contrast a picture that shortly was to fully occupy his eye. <br/>
<br/>
That picture was, of course, the person of Maria Redmond, whose name Roger de Vere had dropped during the ride to Avalon, and which Merriman had picked up almost immediately as a potential object of interest. She had not been immediately present to him as he and his host entered and settled into the Redmond parlor, and it was perhaps a consciousness of her absence that led Silas to conjecture the hidden presence of a lamp whose rays arranged the other members of the Redmond family in a shade. William, Mary, Thaddeus, and Thomas were not, he hoped, the dark creatures they seemed at first sight, and as they talked on small matters of Merriman's business, his journey, and his recent explorations at Ashgate, he more and more felt that their dimness was an eclipse caused by the complecting of shadows cast by an unobserved source of light. This was not, of course, his immediate impression. Indeed, it initially seemed to Merriman that within the Redmonds he beheld a definite resemblance of the sort that families shared, and that the patriarch's mournfulness and the matriarch's hooded asperity blended with each other and on the faces of the two sons in a way that suggested the mutually reinforcing influences of personal evolution. And yet there were gleams that came out too: a sagacious word, an acute observation, a sharp but kindly aside, a brief eruption of humor. These contrasted with but failed to overturn the settled impression of dim stolidity. These flashes were, moreover, inorganic and did not bind with the other qualities that Merriman observed, so that they struck him as having the manner of an empty but reflective surface that mirrors back qualities shining from another source, so that he had to suppress the urge to glance over his shoulder to see whence this light originated. His patience was rewarded when Mrs. Redmond's own glance traveled over his shoulder—"Ah, here is Maria."<br/>
<br/>
Maria Redmond was a fine creature of a blushing age whose dimples and dark curls warmed the intelligence of her eye. She took Merriman's gaze directly and serenely, neither skirting it as imposition, avoiding it as an impudence, nor returning its challenge with satire. If she had not appeared promptly to greet the guests, it was because she had been otherwise occupied with embroidery and felt a responsibility for closing a loop. "And Mr. de Vere knows that he only has to ask for my presence and I will avail myself."<br/>
<br/>
Merriman was pleased to see that this confident speech elicited from his friend a gracious bow and from Mr. Redmond a smile that played on his sad face like a pale but kindly sun upon the snow. "He is fond of her, and <i>he</i> is fond of <i>him,</i>" thought Merriman happily. "I am glad such pretty speeches are not resented here." <br/>
<br/>
"But I did not know to call you," de Vere was saying, "and had you not appeared I would never have forgiven those who did not tell me that magic words would summon you."<br/>
<br/>
"I am not the enchanted princess in the storybook," she laughed, "to be called with a rhyme. Unless, of course, you are the prince in the story."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I am but the humble woodchopper, and he will take what glimpse of royalty he can."<br/>
<br/>
"Maria has us so swaddled in enchantment that we let her do as she pleases," said her mother.<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>am</i> spoiled, but I hope I do not abuse the privilege," said Maria, and she bent to kiss her mother's cheek. "Would you believe <i>that</i> one used to pull my hair?" she asked, pointing toward the older of her brothers, who gave a crooked smile and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "They keep me to the ground yet, though I am as capable as they of putting serpents into other people's beds."<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
"I think, then," said her father, "that I must have beaten the wrong party on at least one occasion."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>They'll</i> never admit the injustice," laughed Maria. "Nor will I. You see, Mr. Merriman," she said, turning toward him, "we all look out for each other's reputations." Her eye was warm, where Merriman saw in those of her brothers, whose eyes had flickered toward his, the hard, piercing gleam of a bird of prey.<br/>
<br/>
This was the moment that crystallized into metaphor the intuitions with which Merriman had been struggling. The other Redmonds were the burnished transmitters of reflected glory, and their familial tie to the brilliant Maria gave them facets that allowed them to pick up and cast back her incandescence. As she spoke to each in turn, both in the parlor and over the handsome luncheon that the Redmonds laid out at the noontime hour, he saw them momentarily glimmer and glitter before lapsing again into shade as she moved on. There was no jealousy in them—they scarcely seemed conscious of the effect she had. Nor was Maria entirely selfish in the effect she made. Though she was the blinding source of social virtue in that company, she made in each in turn appear more brilliant, and dazzled all the more in the glinting glory that returned to her from those she illuminated. Her father's gravity became wisdom; her mother's pointedness became wit; her brothers' insolence became gallantry and satire. Even he himself, he fancied, showed the better for her radiance, and plumed his own peacock feathers to iridescently catch the light. Over the roast beef Roger de Vere caught his friend's eye and seemed to say in the steady glance, "You see why I could neither apply nor withhold the predicate 'charming' from this remarkable family? <i>They</i> are all charming, but through her, and she stints it not." <br/>
<br/>
The acuity of this observation made him appreciate anew his friend's ability to capture and clarify the essence of a scene, and he remembered again his curiosity about the interplay that would result between the "charming" Redmonds and his polished host. It was toward observing that interaction that he bent his attention over the meal, though he could not bring to bear all his faculties, for Mr. Redmond <i>would</i> in the meantime press him to describe his own business, for Mr. Redmond, like Roger de Vere, had to manage not only the raising of crops but also their sale and financing through brokers and bankers, and his relations with those parties, no less than his neighbor's, were fraught even at the best of times, and he desired to learn, from some knowledgeable but disinterested participant in the trade, what tricks and stratagems both sides used to maximize their advantages. It is to be feared that Merriman did not give Mr. Redmond the fullest possible advice; indeed, it is to be feared that, in his distraction, he might have given his lunch-time host some rather misleading impressions. Still, Mr. Redmond seemed highly pleased with what he was given, for he kept his guest at the table for some minutes after the others of the party had returned to the parlor.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, it is a hard business," he said, at last giving the signal that he finished with both the meal and the larger conversation by rising. "And here it is especially difficult. The Eliots—" and he broke off, shaking his head sadly.<br/>
<br/>
"My host mentioned the Eliots yesterday," said Merriman politely. "He had attempted to purchase their land."<br/>
<br/>
"Indeed," said Redmond. "One needs a pretty acre these days, and Ashgate may not be sufficient. (I say that in your private ear, though your friend knows it well.) I fear Mr. de Vere must expand his empire or fold it. He had the capital some months ago, but now, well …"<br/>
<br/>
To put aside the book and keep investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><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: 11221111111212222111222111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Silas Merriman, Chapter 4, concluded
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>They turned at this moment into the parlor, and the juxtaposition of this newly learned intelligence and the sudden sight of Roger and Maria in close conversation in the corner of that room gave Merriman a startling thought. There was, evidently, more than one way of expanding one's domain, and if some had been foreclosed then others remained opened. Merriman felt with a sudden sense of shame that his interest in the potential relations between de Vere and a Redmond had been of a shallowly intellectual and aesthetic sort. Whatever those advantages there might be to a union of the two houses—and Merriman was still strongly of the opinion that they would be of ramifying splendor, like a many-candled chandelier hanging in a hall of mirrors—that those advantages would have to pay for themselves. As he paused in the door at this thought, he became aware that his host had also paused, and he glanced briefly over at Redmond to see how he was struck by the scene. He, it appeared, was also mulling something like Merriman's notion, for he gazed upon the pair thoughtfully before stepping into the room and taking his place by the unlit fireplace.<br/>
<br/>
The tete-a-tete between Roger and Maria broke off almost as soon as Merriman entered the room in his turn, but they did not move apart. Instead, they looked over at him and smiled in manner that seemed to invite him over, so he joined them.<br/>
<br/>
"Your cousin says you have a great wit, which you must set against mine," said Maria with a smile.<br/>
<br/>
"By that you mean you don't believe him," replied Merriman.<br/>
<br/>
"How do I so indicate?"<br/>
<br/>
"By introducing the familial relation where there is none. You think he has 'cozened' you into thinking I have a great wit."<br/>
<br/>
She laughed. "No, by your own logic it must be <i>you</i> who are the victim. For if you are not the cousin, then it is you who have been 'cozened,' and so it must be I whom he implies lacks wit."<br/>
<br/>
"No, dear lady, I fear I am neither cousined—for he is only my friend—nor cozened. <i>Your</i> wit is plain to see."<br/>
<br/>
"Neither of us will accept your testimony on any point, it appears," she said, turning to de Vere. "We <i>will</i> test each other."<br/>
<br/>
"And I will test your brothers," de Vere said dryly, with a smile. "But in the saddle. You are both too fleet for me. I will need a horse to catch up." With that he gestured to her two brothers and the trio left for the stables.<br/>
<br/>
"It is a finer day than yesterday. It is not so hot," said Maria when they had left, and she turned toward and opened a door that led out onto the porch. <br/>
<br/>
"We begin at a slow pace, if it is the weather we are to discuss," said Merriman as he followed her outside. <br/>
<br/>
"It is the greatest challenge," she said. "Anyone can make poetry interesting—the trick is to make the weather so."<br/>
<br/>
"Well then," he said, and described to her the affect that the heavy summer had upon his nerves and the anecdote about the cottonmouth. "That <i>is</i> good," she said when he was done. "Though it is rather a cheat. It tells me a great deal more about you than it does about the weather."<br/>
<br/>
"It tells you that I am presently a thing of rags."<br/>
<br/>
"No. It tells me you regard yourself as a man of sensitivity. You believe that you take much of your spirit from your surroundings, and that you think yourself—forgive me, for I am describing how you see yourself, not how you <i>are</i>—as a man who takes fright with absurd ease."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think it absurd to take fright when a poisonous serpent crawls over your foot."<br/>
<br/>
"Perhaps not. But my brothers would not admit to taking fright, or to thinking that they ought to."<br/>
<br/>
"Your brothers do not then affect to seem sensitive? Rather, they affect the contrary?"<br/>
<br/>
"They do not 'affect' at all. They are exactly as you take them."<br/>
<br/>
"Your assertion does not follow from your denial."<br/>
<br/>
She stopped in puzzlement. "Which was what?"<br/>
<br/>
"That they do not 'affect' at all."<br/>
<br/>
"So they don't."<br/>
<br/>
"But that doesn't mean they are exactly as you—or I—take them. They may take on a coloration all unwitting from their surroundings."<br/>
<br/>
"That is true. I had not thought of that."<br/>
<br/>
"Or from their company."<br/>
<br/>
She regarded him for a moment before a bemused dimple appeared in her cheek; then she turned and continued walking. They had already come some distance from the house and were now approaching the fields.<br/>
<br/>
"How do you find them when they are in company?" she asked.<br/>
<br/>
"I found them quite charming during lunch. They are gallant when you are near."<br/>
<br/>
"That was fraternal devotion. You saw filial piety before I entered, did you not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not so much as to be obvious. They were, I suppose, deferential."<br/>
<br/>
"They are satirical. So am I, when in their company."<br/>
<br/>
"You seem satirical now."<br/>
<br/>
She laughed quite loudly at that. "I am afraid that they must have laughed at you in the parlor. They are really irrepressible."<br/>
<br/>
"Am I really so ridiculous?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," she said kindly. "But just now I said I inferred your sensitivity from your anecdote. In reality, you breathe it. But it gave me an opening to get off from talk of the weather."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you told me I only <i>thought</i> myself sensitive—that you did not mean to tell me what I <i>was.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"But that's what comes through. That is why you <i>breathe</i> it—in and out. I am afraid my brothers rather thought you were going to collapse upon the divan, delivery an elegy on your own death, and then expire, all before the roast came from the oven."<br/>
<br/>
"And you gleaned this from their manner."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm afraid they imparted as much to me while you and father were still at the table."<br/>
<br/>
"I did not know that I gave the impression of being a ham actor ensconced in a bad melodrama."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, now I have offended you. I did not mean to imply that I shared in their opinion. But I will, I hope, be gallant in my turn, and give you a chance to share your impression of me." They were now far along the path into the fields, and she looked about. "I suppose the ladies of Baltimore look very fine parading about the public gardens. I will seem very dreary when presented against this prospect."<br/>
<br/>
"That will not signify to a man who is, as you say of me, 'sensitive,'" he replied. "Or, at least, not of my kind. I fear I rather take my impressions from people and their relations with each other."<br/>
<br/>
"I take on no coloration from the land?"<br/>
<br/>
"A woman does not ornament a garden," he said. "Say rather that it ornaments her. And an ornament is but a bauble set upon the real thing. You seem very fine out here."<br/>
<br/>
"I think you are making love to me."<br/>
<br/>
"I do not mean to," he said in some alarm. "Pray take what I say only as the admiration of a visitor. Do you often have such?"<br/>
<br/>
"Visitors? Not often."<br/>
<br/>
"But there are fine men about. My friend de Vere, for instance?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, we grew up together," she said, looking down the road back toward Ashgate.<br/>
<br/>
"That is a great advantage. You know each other."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. We are fond of each other."<br/>
<br/>
Silas had been so intent upon the their talk and on not being caught "on the hop" that he had scarce had the chance to reflect on where the conversation might go and how it might be steered. Now the place where she had fallen silent gave him the pause to reconnoiter, and he saw that they had come upon ground that might prove treacherous but also profitable. It was hardly his business what his friend and this charming young neighbor should mean to or do with each other, yet he felt the intense desire to glean where they stood in their relations. There seemed no easy gap into which he could delicately thrust; only a direct charge would do.<br/>
<br/>
"Your father, I trust, has made plans for the, ah, disposition of Avalon for— for future generations?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Merriman!" She affected shock. "I do not inquire about such things! Nor do I have to," she continued in milder tones. "Thaddeus, as the oldest son, of course, will inherit the title. Thomas will gain some property, too. I will carry something off when I am married, I suppose."<br/>
<br/>
"Forgive me. I was only thinking of something your father said to me as we talked business. That more land is often wanted. I did not want to think of your family being impoverished by a divided estate."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you need not fear that."<br/>
<br/>
"I was fearing for my friend de Vere, in fact. Your father seems of the opinion that Ashgate is too small to survive."<br/>
<br/>
His maneuver had succeeded. Maria's gaze settled upon the distance, and it required no great sensitivity on Silas's part to see that trouble had descended—even if only lightly—upon her brow. "Father does not tell me of such things," she said at last. He deemed it inexpedient to press the seed deeper into the soil of her consciousness—at least, not yet. Instead, he let her meditate upon the horizon in silence until at last she shook herself, pulled her gaze back, and looked brightly at him. "The boys will be back from their race soon. Perhaps we should be back to meet them."<br/>
<br/>
To put aside the book and keep investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><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: 112211111112122221112221111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Silas Merriman, Chapter 5
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>But when they had at last retraced their steps—which they did in no great hurry, and with pauses and detours—they found that Thaddeus and Thomas had returned without Roger. Their course, it seemed, had taken very near to Ashgate, and its master had elected to remain behind. He had sent back his wish, though, that his guest tarry at Avalon as long as he was welcome there, and that he would gladly await Merriman at his convenience.<br/>
<br/>
Merriman expressed his gratitude for this, and said that he hoped to impose upon the Redmonds again at some later date, to which they assented with warmer enthusiasm than he had actually hoped to receive. "In pledge of that," he prayed, "may I leave to stable my horse here and return for him on the morrow? I desire the pleasure of a walk and would feign let my own legs carry me back to Ashgate." The Redmonds smiled and made it clear they considered his request no imposition, and he shortly took his leave of them while reflecting that the entire clan really had grown in charm during his visit.<br/>
<br/>
It was not only a want of exercise that led Merriman to take a longer road home. He did not exactly relish the thought of a long walk back, and he had no sooner quit Avalon than he perceived that a shorter path through the country could take him back to Ashgate more quickly than if he took the main road. It was along this new path that he set out with a mind buzzing over his visit to the Redmonds.<br/>
<br/>
It is to be feared that his first thoughts were taken up with reflecting on the impression his hostess had given of the impression he had made. She had a quick wit, but he thought he had kept up with her easily enough, even if he had been ridden hard in places. But her manner, though easy and gracious, had never been less than warm, and the frankness with which she spoke suggested to him that she had regarded him in his own turn as warm and charming. This comforted him immensely, not only on his own account, but for the encouraging light it shone on the path toward a design that he had only just begun to make out.<br/>
<br/>
He was somewhat more disconcerted to reflect over the attitude that her brothers had apparently taken. Though he truly thought himself—congratulated himself, indeed—on his "sensitivity," as she had acutely termed it, he was rather put out to think that it came across as an extraordinary affectation. Yet he had no sooner framed the description to himself than he saw where the fallacy lay. That his sensitivity caused him to react to what he discerned was no affectation, but merely the exercise of a proper response, as a bloom might open in the sun or close during the night. The only question was whether his reactions were "proportionate," and this was not a matter that such young and unschooled and—yes, he used the term—"ruffianly" sorts as the Redmond brothers could be expected to judge with discernment. He also, he knew, had a rather prominent forehead. Those of a coarse and satirical temperament—and did not their own sister admit their satire?—could hardly be expected to reflect a judicious evaluation of their visitor.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, she too had seemed to intimate that he exuded an excess of refinement, and this brought him up quite short. He was not disposed to regard <i>her</i> as uncouth; nor was he inclined to suppose that she, who shone so brilliantly with her own light, was merely transmitting what emanated from her brothers. She dazzled in herself, he was brought near to conceding that she had illumined some recess in his own character. Fortunately, he temporized over the thought and was soon brought back around to those cogitations with which he had entered Avalon: namely, what effect the juxtaposition of Maria Redmond and Roger de Vere would have on each other.<br/>
<br/>
Over the noontime meal he had not had the time or the presence of mind to reduce his impressions of their talk to its essence. As he reflected over them again he saw that they were not so distant from what he had given himself to expect. His friend had glowed under her influence and had spoken with a wit and a quiet authority that Merriman had often seen him exhibit in his own company. If what he said had not carried great significance, well, it was true that Maria Redmond had not said anything that carried great significance either, and so he had had no great reflections to shine back. It was not in his friend's simple and unified nature to diffuse and refract the pure white light that Maria shone upon him into a complex rainbow. But the wit she encouraged in him reflected back and encouraged her still more in hers; the image of a chandelier and a hall of mirrors seemed very apt. Greater patterns of art might yet arise if the two dwelt in greater proximity: Maria, though intelligent and educated in the basics, might acquire from her much more learned companion the complexities and acuities that would let her refract her own light, to be multiplied into still more dazzling forms by the close and sympathetic surfaces of Roger de Vere.<br/>
<br/>
That led him—he had by now traveled quite a distance along roads intellectual and physical—to the matter of how their conjugal union might be arranged. As we have said, he knew it was not his business to play matchmaker, and he still hoped that relations might be sufficiently of a kind that a union he saw as an inexorable good might prove, by that very fact, to be inevitable. And yet for that very reason he was—all unconscious—tempted to give it a nudge: it would make him an elemental part of that very great good. Consciously, he found himself worrying that the momentum and velocity were not what they should be. Redmond himself, he thought, was aware of the possibility of a relation between his house and de Vere's, but what attitude the old man took toward it Merriman was suddenly unsure of. Maria, he wondered, took her present relation with Roger for granted and did not contemplate that it might be deepened into something more; the alacrity with which she had accused Silas himself of "making love" to her had alarmed him, and now he knew why: he marveled that he had not seen in her allusion to the public gardens of Baltimore and her invidious comparison of such to her own family plantation the implicit announcement that she desired to be taken off to some other situation; and with a start he recalled her exact words, that she would "carry off" some part of Avalon when she married, which implied that she envisioned departing it altogether. <br/>
<br/>
And then there was de Vere himself. Merriman recalled anew many of his friend's asides about the state of his finances; that, combined with the otherwise unaccountable allusion he had made to the Redmonds on the previous day and what Merriman had learned from old Mr. Redmond himself, proved, to Silas's own satisfaction that his friend had as his settled aim a union with Maria Redmond, but that he also felt the situation called for a catalyst, and that he had settled upon Silas Merriman—his old and sensitive friend, one who could see without being shown and invited without being asked—to be that catalyst. Merriman himself might have been shocked to discover how he had been so neatly maneuvered into this position, but he was much too filled with admiration at his friend's suddenly revealed subtlety, and far too taken with the aesthetic design that union would crown, to resent it.<br/>
<br/>
To put aside the book and keep investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><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: 1122111111121222211122211111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Silas Merriman, Chapter 5, concluded
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><br/>
Gradually into these reflections crept the consciousness that he had been for some time picking his way carefully across infirm ground, and there came a moment when he stopped and looked about him. There were short grasses and shallow puddles of water all about, but no sign of the cultivation that he had left behind and that he had grown to expect to see in land of this sort, and the sight of a low, cypress-covered hill confirmed what he had already guessed, that his chosen path back to Ashgate traversed a corner of the neighborhood "bad" land. With more caution, but with a mind that still recurred to its previous animadversions, he continued as before in the direction he judged right, and was soon rewarded as he skirted the landmark rise with the sight of Ashgate standing white in the distance. Moreover, he also recognized his host leaning thoughtfully against the fence and presenting his back. Merriman gave a short hullo, upon which de Vere turned with a start, then ducked under the fence to come out slowly to meet him.<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted a walk," Merriman explained, "though shorter than the road that took us there. I trust I have not trespassed."<br/>
<br/>
"You found Maria Redmond charming," observed his host mildly.<br/>
<br/>
"Indeed, and I thank you much for the introduction. I shall return tomorrow, if that is agreeable with you, by this same road and fetch your horse."<br/>
<br/>
"I will send someone to fetch it this afternoon. Oh, do not trouble your conscience—you had every right to stable it at Avalon. But I will still send someone, and by the road we took this morning. I perceive you did not realize your walk would take you through land I told you yesterday was dangerous, but I would not have you hazard it again."<br/>
<br/>
They had come to the fence, and crossing it, they both leaned against it in the attitude that Merriman had just glimpsed his friend in striking. "It did not seem so treacherous," said Silas, turning and regarding the road he had just made, "but I suppose I was fortunate in following one of the safe routes."<br/>
<br/>
"Quite so," de Vere said simply in reply, and gazed still in the opposite direction at his own abode.<br/>
<br/>
As they stood thus thoughtfully Merriman saw a horse prance into view from around the hill, coming along much the same path he had just taken. Not only its attitude but its very physical appearance struck him as most prepossessing. It was quite large, with enormous curved muscles running down its legs and up its haunches. It was, for all that muscle, a fat horse and seemed at a distance to be as round as a barrel. It was brilliant white in color, with no blemish or spot that Silas could see on its flank, and its mane and tail seemed to be curled up in tight knots. Equally striking was its carriage, for it kept its head high and its neck proudly arched, and it pranced along in high, short steps, lifting its legs in a quick rhythm as though to a tune only it could hear. Merriman watched it in quiet admiration for some minutes before saying, "What a remarkable animal. To whom does it belong?"<br/>
<br/>
He felt, rather than saw, his friend glance briefly around and then turn violently back whence he had been facing, and then he felt de Vere grasp his arm and wrench him around; still clutching Merriman by the elbow, the master of Ashgate began leading his guest slowly back toward the house. "Pray do not look upon that horse," he said quietly. "It does not do."<br/>
<br/>
"It does not do?" repeated Merriman in some amazement. "What do you mean? To whom does it belong and why is he so jealous?"<br/>
<br/>
"It belongs to its master," said de Vere. "You did not see <i>him,</i> did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Was the horse bridled and saddled? Nay, do not turn and look. Cast your eye inward upon memory."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it went bareback."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Then his master has likely only turned him loose to exercise. He danced, did he not?"<br/>
<br/>
"You did not see?"<br/>
<br/>
They had come now to the house, and de Vere led Merriman around to the porch before releasing his arm. Then he went to the bell rope—which Merriman had yet to see his friend employ—and gave it three sharp jerks. Then, apparently satisfied, he sat down in his chair. His face was again mild.<br/>
<br/>
Merriman regarded him with open-faced exasperation for some minutes before finally speaking. "Will you not explain to me the meaning of this extraordinary performance?" De Vere continued to look with an untroubled gaze out upon the world before answering, simply, "No."<br/>
<br/>
"No? Then if you cannot explain its deeper meaning to me, can you at least explain what it means to you?"<br/>
<br/>
Before de Vere could answer—while, indeed, he still looked out on the world with a bemused eye—Delia, his dark-skinned cook, stepped out onto the porch and, fixing him with a baleful glare, muttered a single unintelligible word that nevertheless sounded to Merriman like a foul and hateful imprecation. De Vere quickly looked up at her. "I rang it myself," he said, and his eye, perhaps unconsciously, swung toward Merriman. Delia followed his glance, returned Merriman's open stare with a suspicious one of her own, then looked back at de Vere and gave what seemed to a curt but satisfied nod. She then stepped back into the house.<br/>
<br/>
De Vere turned back to his prospect briefly before looking up again at Merriman. In the former's glance the latter saw something like pity and something like pleading. "I cannot explain to you what I cannot explain to myself. Consider it a local superstition which perforce we are obliged to respect."<br/>
<br/>
"And what is this superstition, that I might not in my ignorance trespass it?"<br/>
<br/>
Even to oblige his guest that far de Vere seemed reluctant, but he spoke in his turn. "It is simply this. It is unlucky to behold that horse which you just now glimpsed. For though the horse does not himself signify—being, perhaps, only an innocent creature—he travels most often in the company of his master, and his master it is <i>decidedly</i> unlucky to behold, simply and merely in himself. When we have evidence that he is abroad, we ring that bell, that all on this plantation may take care. Please respect my wishes," concluded de Vere with a wretched smile, "for my slaves would never forgive me if I and my guest did not indulge their fancies."<br/>
<br/>
"It is not meet to be a prisoner of your servant's superstitions."<br/>
<br/>
"It is not meet, but the point is moot."<br/>
<br/>
"And what stories do they tell of this extraordinary personage? Is he the devil?"<br/>
<br/>
"I regret I cannot satisfy your curiosity. I have never pressed for a detailed explanation."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That appears to be the end of the extract; you flip through some nearby pages, but none of them appear to continue the tale.<br/>
<br/>
To put aside the book and keep investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><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: 11221111111212222112
author_id: seuzz
title: Disposing of Lucy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You put the book away for latter perusal and gather up the rest of the items from the closet. Nothing looks obviously like a talisman of power, but such things (Blackwell has taught you) don't often look like it.<br/>
<br/>
As for Lucy, well, it's a sad but unsurprising discovery: you find one of her socks on the ground directly beneath the work room window; her shoes are some distance away; her skirt hangs from a branch of the yew tree. You never find her other sock, her undergarments, or her blouse. Apparently, in its rage at being baffled by you, the guardian took out its fury on her things and scattered them. The girl herself, of course, has vanished from this realm, spirited away by things even scarier than the guardian.<br/>
<br/>
Not until much later does it strike you as being odd that her clothes had been so scattered: only items tinged or bound up with some kind of magic are prey to that kind of physical desecration by a guardian. But you finally write it off as a side effect of the chalk dust from the sigil she'd been making.<br/>
<br/>
You never much liked Lucy (lusting after her was quite a different matter), so your feelings of regret, guilt and horror are tinged with a kind of ambivalence: you feel bad because you know you should feel bad, not because you really cared for the girl herself. For your own protection, you ritually burn her remaining clothes, take her car keys (which she had providentially left in the work room), and drive her SUV back into town to leave abandoned in a rough neighborhood. You then call your Prescott clone and get it to take you back to Blackwell's. <br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna be in a shitload of trouble," he tells you on the way back.<br/>
<br/>
"How," you ask impatiently. "It's just going to look like she just disappeared. No one can connect it to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell's gonna take one look at your face and know something's wrong."<br/>
<br/>
"So I won't wear my own face," you retort. "He never sees your ugly face. I go back to his place as Yumi or whoever, and upstairs I change into Jared. You can't read anything on this face—" you point to Jared's mug, which you're wearing "—because he already looks like a thug."<br/>
<br/>
"What about when the cops get involved? They'll find fingerprints or shit."<br/>
<br/>
"So let 'em find them. I was wearing Jared, so they won't find mine or yours."<br/>
<br/>
"What if they find Jared's? I mean, the real guy that Blackwell copied for you."<br/>
<br/>
That gives you a little pause. You don't even know his name, but ten to one he'll have an alibi.<br/>
<br/>
Or probably he won't, since there will be no clue as to when she went missing.<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. It would be just like your golem to play Jiminy Cricket and prick your conscience.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212
author_id: seuzz
title: The Space Behind the Face.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You sit in bed, eyes and ears straining into the dark. Not long after you hear the scream, the floorboards in the hall softly creak—not footsteps, exactly, but the weight of something large and heavy trying to be stealthy. The sounds come opposite your door, and stop.<br/>
<br/>
You try to keep awake, but you catch yourself dozing in and out. Light begins to show through the window, but light is not the same thing as dawn; and remembering the shadow you saw against your window, you keep away from the shades. When the glow becomes so strong that you're sure the sun must be up, you creep to the window and twitch the curtain aside.<br/>
<br/>
The window to your bedroom faces east ("a propitious direction for the novitiate," says Blackwell), but the horizon is still only smeared with light. You watch patiently and intently, until a sliver of the sun rises over the limb. Then you hurry over to the door and open it.<br/>
<br/>
Teeth. You're greeted by hundreds and hundreds of long, sharp teeth, spiraling into a gullet that is nothing but more teeth.<br/>
<br/>
You stare into them for only an instant and then they are gone, but it's enough to send you flying backward into the room. You blink and try to clear your head of the ghastly vision and its implication. The thing was sitting outside your door for hours, waiting for you to open it, to break the seal around the door jamb so it could get in at you. You are trembling hard, and it takes several minutes for you to steady your nerves.<br/>
<br/>
You are still jumpy, even though you know it is now safe, and bolt up the second staircase. The door is unmarked and the key still in the lock, but that's not how the thing would have gotten in anyway. The key rattles as you twist it, and then you stumble into the workroom.<br/>
<br/>
A long dark trail cuts a wide smear through the sigil that Lucy had prepared, but of the girl there is no sign. The inner room yields nothing either. Then you notice that the window is open. You look out.<br/>
<br/>
There is something on the ground, obscured by the shadow of the house.<br/>
<br/>
You dash downstairs, out the kitchen door and around the side. There, on the grass directly below the window, are Lucy's clothes, disordered and empty.<br/>
<br/>
There is also a mask.<br/>
<br/>
You pick it up and examine it, and see Lucy's face reflected like a ghost within. Her name floats over the inner surface. You let out a low whistle.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The first order of business is to get rid of the broken sigils in workroom before they start attracting unpleasant things. With a bucket of soapy water and a mop you make short work of the chalk marks. The trailing stain left by the Guardian remains, however. You do a lot of thinking while you scrub, but you are careful not to get distracted, and check every corner of the room for stray marks. You even crush her bit of chalk to dust and let it blow from your hands on the morning breeze.<br/>
<br/>
Then you settle into the library. The vampire cyclops-monkey grins malignantly at you from its niche. You regard it directly. "They wouldn't accept a golem, would they?" you ask it. "I'd say it was a person, and that he or she got out of the clothes and mask and scampered off, except—" Well, except that the Guardian is wearing an unmistakably smug and satisfied expression. You nod thoughtfully. "Looks like they gave you something tasty in payment for him, or her," you tell it. <br/>
<br/>
You've gathered up the remains of Lucy Vredenburg and put them in the kitchen. You briefly consider putting on the mask to see what memories and explanations it carries; fortunately, before you do so, you remember that the last memory will undoubtedly be of the Guardian closing in on her. Considering what you felt when you glimpsed only the transparent reflection of its evaporating Cheshire grin, you decide not to.<br/>
<br/>
You pour yourself some coffee and sit down to a good long think. <br/>
<br/>
Someone was under that mask, but who? The most obvious suspect is Aubrey Blackwell himself. Lucy was a fake, and just as you can switch between your identity and the identity of a golem under your control, he could switch between his identity and that of Lucy. Perhaps it is a golem-slave duplicate of Blackwell that is traveling, and the real Blackwell (for whatever reason) stayed behind as Lucy. But if this is so, why didn't Blackwell just come clean with you last night? Why didn't he take off the disguise? Why would he risk meeting the Guardian just to keep his secret? Why wouldn't he just sleep with you to avoid running such a horrible risk?<br/>
<br/>
No, it must have been someone else. Maybe Blackwell has another confederate, another student or associate. He practically confessed to as much once. The real Lucy may be hidden under a mask of this adept, just as the real Yumi is being hidden under your own visage in another mask. But you can't restore Lucy unless you find out who this associate is and get the mask off her, and though you don't especially care about Lucy herself, you know that her disappearance will cause complications.<br/>
<br/>
This is bad, not just for the confederate (to say the least!) but for yourself. You'd really like to cover it up by hiding the fact of this cock up. Blackwell is going to be beyond furious when he gets back, because you will have cost him an associate and made a terrific mess of things, all because of your own stubbornness and lust. <br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, you might be able to finesse things a little bit. Your  mentor is very good at seeing through lies, but it is true that you didn't believe Lucy was telling the truth. And perhaps she wasn't telling the truth either. There is some chance, however small, that this confederate was up to no good, and that you did exactly the right thing, even if for the wrong reasons. Maybe you should call him, or confess to him what happened.<br/>
<br/>
And if you do that, you'll be able to go to Meghan's party. That is where you were planning on making a switch into an alpha student anyway.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222121
author_id: seuzz
title: Conspiracies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You toy with picking up the phone and calling Blackwell, but you chicken out at the last moment. It will be hard enough facing him on Monday.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, though it is only late morning, you call up Yumi and bully her into coming out to the house. Once she's inside you twitch the mask off the golem; it's a pain getting the thing upstairs and then getting her clothes off it, but you don't want to have to argue with Blackwell's golem; it doesn't have to obey you, and the Yumi mask carries her distaste for you.<br/>
<br/>
Once you're dressed out as Yumi you take stock of the situation. You are supposed to hook up with Jenny and her gang for a picnic at the park, but her cell phone is also showing messages from Lin and the Garner twins. You also have to plan out tonight's switch-off, including who you will seize. You call your doppelganger and have him come over to the house.<br/>
<br/>
"This is gonna be real tricky," you tell him. "I have to get a mask onto a new person, get that mask off you and onto them, get their mask onto me. I have to dress and you'll have to get dressed again, and we're going to have to do all that and split before the real Yumi wakes up."<br/>
<br/>
Will blinks. "Maybe we ought to practice," he suggests. "Do some drills here, up in the bedroom. That old golem of Blackwell's could double as your new victim."<br/>
<br/>
"That's an idea," you admit. "But I'm not dressed up like I'll be at the party. We're just going to have to wing it. Wear something easy and sloppy to get into and out of. Those baggy shorts and a pullover. The Margaritavilles, no socks."<br/>
<br/>
"We're doing this at the party?" he exclaims. "They'll never let me in!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll get you in. But when you get there, linger outside until I give you a chirp on your cell phone. For now, I need you to housesit. If Blackwell calls, pretend you're me as long as you can and take a message. Then call me."<br/>
<br/>
"Anything I need to know?"<br/>
<br/>
"The less you know what's going on, the better."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The messages from the cheerleaders say that they want to get together to talk about Cindy, so you call Jenny and ask if she wants you to collect gossip or meet at the picnic. <br/>
<br/>
"I'd kill for the gossip, Yumi," she says, "but to be honest, this picnic is about putting you and Paul next to each other. He'll kill me if you don't show up."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll probably kill you if I do show up," you retort. "How could you set me up this way?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not setting you up," she plaintively insists. "Paul just wants a ... a situation where you will pay attention to him."<br/>
<br/>
"That counts as setting up." You sigh and press a knuckle into your forehead. Yumi's own instincts are torn between being the nice girl and seeing these friends, and bailing out because she doesn't want to have to deal with Paul. You realize you get to cast the tie-breaking vote.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to have to cancel with you, Jenny," you tell her. "I don't have the energy to deal with Paul, and besides, this Cindy situation needs dealing with."<br/>
<br/>
"You can't do this," Jenny wails. "It's not fair to Paul."<br/>
<br/>
"What happened wasn't fair to Cindy. There will be lots of times for me to make nice with Paul. Just trust me." You snap the phone shut.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't tell me it sucks having a rich and complex social life at the top of the food chain," Prescott smirks from the next desk over. <br/>
<br/>
You stick your tongue out at him and stretch out a finely shaped leg. "It does suck, but it has its compensations."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You dash over to Lin's house, which is where you're to meet her and Eva and Jessica. It's best not to leave an electronic trail for the kind of discussion you think is going to unfold.<br/>
<br/>
"If we stick together, there's four of us," Jessica says redundantly. "Chelsea has Maria and Gloria in her corner, naturally. Kendra, probably. Anybody know what Michelle is thinking?" Michelle Estrich keeps largely to herself and is easily the least popular girl in the bunch. She is on the team only because Chelsea finds her so pliable.<br/>
<br/>
"She'll side with Chelsea," Eva predicts. "It's the easiest thing to do."<br/>
<br/>
"Then if Cindy doesn't quit, it's five to five." Jessica frowns.<br/>
<br/>
"Are we sure Kendra is on Chelsea's side?" Lin asks.<br/>
<br/>
"They're best friends," you point out.<br/>
<br/>
"Like Patterson and Lynch are best friends," she retorts. "If we told Kendra we want <i>her</i> taking over—"<br/>
<br/>
"Kendra's worse than Chelsea," you say. "We'd be best off with Maria running things."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, like, would I have to make decisions and stuff?" Jessica crosses her eyes and imitates Maria's dippy airhead tone. <br/>
<br/>
"She's a lot smarter than she lets on," Lin says. "She'd make it six to four, and if she brought Michelle and Kendra along—" <br/>
<br/>
"It would be eight to fourteen," you sigh and fall back on the floor. "Don't forget Gordon and his posse. Chelsea would just get them to hit Sagansky on her behalf." <br/>
<br/>
"What if we got Cameron and the football players on our side?"<br/>
<br/>
"They don't give a crap, and they're not gonna cross Gordon when he wants something bad enough."<br/>
<br/>
"But if even five of us threatened to quit if Chelsea didn't quit as captain—"<br/>
<br/>
"She'd kick us off and get five replacements," Eva says. "You've seen the ones she keeps teasing with the chance at a slot. I think the administration wants some juniors and sophomores on the squad anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Then we're screwed," you say sadly.<br/>
<br/>
"No, Cindy is screwed," says Jessica. "We never had this conversation and have always supported Chelsea one hundred percent," she adds sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The main reason you wanted to talk to these girls, of course, was because you wanted to see what was up with Cindy—Lucy Vredenburg's younger sister. You don't want to waste your new mask on a girl who is being crushed under social humiliation, and whose sister is probably about to die to the world. But getting close to Cindy might be a way of getting clues about her sister. The obvious entrance there would be through her now ex-boyfriend, Seth Javits. Seth has the added attraction of being in the tier just below Black, Patterson, and Lynch in the school pecking order.<br/>
<br/>
That's what you're thinking about late in the afternoon when you go home to get ready. It's a big party, so you dress up carefully, though with an eye toward the need to make quick changes. You start with a long bath with lots of scented soaps and oils and do your hair up with a trace of glitter and frosting. You do a lot of work on make up and on fingernails and toenails, clipping and buffing and sanding and shaping and painting and decorating. When you're ready, you slip on thong panties and a tight-fitting sleeveless one-piece dress that doesn't even reach the middle of your thigh. You also forgo a bra, which would excite the boys more if Yumi had a more ample bosom. To keep your mom from noticing, you drape over it a much more demure sweater and a skirt that sweeps well below your knee. <br/>
<br/>
"You'll never fool mom with that get up," Yumi's older brother, Mokichi, says when he sees you pass between the bathroom and the bedroom. "I'm a guy and even I can tell you're wearing fake clothes over your real ones."<br/>
<br/>
"Stop undressing me with your eyes, you perv," you retort as you brush past him.<br/>
<br/>
You're about ready to go when Will calls from the house. "Blackwell just called. He said that one of Lucy's girlfriends called him and was asking about Lucy. She's not answering her phone."<br/>
<br/>
"How did this girl get Blackwell's private number?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me. But he gave me her number and I'm supposed to call her."<br/>
<br/>
You scratch your nose and think. You know nothing about Lucy's private life; Javits is at least two degrees removed from it and retreating rapidly. This girl is apparently deep in the confidence of Lucy and Blackwell, if she has Blackwell's private number, which would make the acquisition of her memories, at least, highly desirable in the circumstances. But she will have no connection to Westside, which makes her a tangent to your real plans. <br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122
author_id: seuzz
title: Losing Lucy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's still very early, but you call your Will Prescott golem and roust him out of bed. "I need you over here," you tell it. "Two heads are better than one."<br/>
<br/>
"Dad won't like me heading over there."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't tell him you're coming over to Blackwell's," you reply. "Jesus, don't tell me the guy who's lying to everyone by pretending to be me is more honest than I am. And pick up some doughnuts on the way over. Coffee too. Also, bring all the cash you've got. You know, that Aubrey was giving me."<br/>
<br/>
"I've been buying Xbox games," it tells you guiltily. You curse it out good and hard, but it says it has several hundred dollars left, which hardly mollifies you. You'd hope it couldn't blow all that cash on toys.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The first thing you do when it arrives is twitch the Prescott mask off and load it with your own most recent memories so you don't have to explain things to it; this also has the effect of bringing it up to speed on all your most recent research. Luckily, this doesn't take long, and Yumi doesn't awake during the brief time that her true form is exposed from beneath the golemized mask. "Whoa," your doppelganger says when you've got the mask back on her. "You've gotten good over the past week."<br/>
<br/>
The two of you then get right to work, pouring over books and drawing up and studying sigils; you argue over the meaning over various symbols (arguments you aren't displeased to lose when your double has the better of them), make suggestions, and toss out ideas. Being a magical creature, it can't perform any of the tests, but as an intellectual aid it is very good. It's a great pleasure having someone as smart as you to help you out without jealousy or contrary purposes. You get through at least twice as much stuff than if you been working alone.<br/>
<br/>
The idea is to get into Lucy's mask in a way that will let you get what information you can out of it without exposing yourself to the horror of what happened to it; if possible, you'd like to get the horrible memories out of it completely. And yet as the morning turns into the afternoon you don't feel you are getting anywhere. You don't have the <i>Libra</i> to guide you, of course, and few of the other books in the library give much help either. You and your twin are able to draw up copies of the sigils for the mask, the seal, and the metal band from memory, since you have made such a close study of them under Blackwell's guidance. Your admiration for the author of the book grows immensely as the day proceeds, for you see that he or she was clearly able to leave places in the sigil constructions for elaborations on their basic function without leaving any gaps that could cause the sigil to unravel. <br/>
<br/>
"It's like there's a hole there," your twin says at one point, gesturing to one of the symbols. "If it were open, you could thread a simple recapitulate sigil through that would let you copy the contents of a sealed mask into a blank one. But these other functions around it ... Well, they don't seal it off, but it's like they cause that hole to swallow itself. If you could just find a way to slip it some magical ipecac, you could get it open long enough to thread that bit through."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
By mid-afternoon you are both baffled. You can't find a way to break into or modify the Lucy mask, to erase memories of the previous night; you can't even copy its contents onto another mask for further study. You are going to have to find a way to make Lucy disappear in a way that won't raise any suspicions, by Blackwell or anyone else.<br/>
<br/>
So it's a stroke of luck a little when a little after lunch you find her car. Last night, after locking her away, you had gone to move and hide her car but could find no sign of it. At the time you had concluded that she had taken a cab or gotten a ride, though this struck you as very strange. But while standing atop the mausoleum and taking a clipping from the yew tree (its leaf pattern is articulated in one of the sigils you are studying) your attention was caught by a glint of light. Investigating, you found her SUV hidden behind the house and within a thin screen of trees. It's another oddity: why did she take the trouble to hide it so well?<br/>
<br/>
And so by three o'clock, you were receptive when your doppelganger exhaled a deep sigh, rubbed its eyes with the heels of its hands, and said "Why not just stage a car accident?"<br/>
<br/>
"We haven't got a golem to wear the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure we do. We've got Blackwell's golem, the one under the Yumi mask."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll miss it."<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell him that it's at school under Yumi, and then you skip school so you don't have to swap out with it. Tell him you're making good headway on research and don't want to interrupt your studies here by going to school, even as Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
"But who do we hang the Yumi mask on? I mean, for real, since the golem is going to be in a car crash."<br/>
<br/>
"Hang it on the real Yumi. There's no conflict between a fake Yumi mask going on the real Yumi, as long as there is a golem in between."<br/>
<br/>
"So who do I hang my own mask on?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Anyone.</i> Caleb. Gordon Black. Someone no one will miss. Jesus, am I the only one using your brain this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind up going with the following plan: You will put the Lucy mask on Blackwell's golem and stage a fatal accident. Reluctantly, you will paint the inside of the Yumi mask with golem goo (of which you have leftovers from an earlier batch) so that you can put it on a homeless guy and turn him into a Yumi slave. Yumi, for the time being, will remain hidden under the Will Prescott mask.<br/>
<br/>
This is less problematic than it sounds, because after the fake Lucy is buried you'll dig her up and retrieve mask and golem both from her coffin. Then you'll be able to return the golem to Blackwell's house, and maybe you'll be able to find a way to recycle the mask in the meantime.<br/>
<br/>
To test it out, you bully Yumi (who is not under your control yet) into returning to the house. You strip the golem of the Yumi mask and put the Lucy mask on it. If you're lucky, you'll be able to question it about what is going on. If you're not lucky—<br/>
<br/>
Will claps his hands over his ears. "Jesus, shut it off!"<br/>
<br/>
You slap your hand over Lucy's mouth, muffling her shrill screams of bug-eyed terror. Her eyes bulge and stare into nothingness. "Lucy! Lucy!" You slap her while Will grasps her flailing limbs, and she pauses and gasps. You get in her face and stare into her eyes. "Lucy. Listen to me. You're okay. Everything is okay." She looks at you, without comprehension. Then her eyes go out of focus and—<br/>
<br/>
"Just take the fucking mask off her," Will shouts over the pandemonium. You rip it off, but her cries of horror still echo through the house.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we can be sure of one thing," you say. Your voice is trembling a little. "Put her behind the wheel and buckle her in, and she'll go straight over a cliff. Let's take her out to Plumtree Road." That's a treacherous, switchback-laden road in the hills outside of town.<br/>
<br/>
You've just gotten the golem into Lucy's SUV when the house cell phone rings. That'll be Blackwell, and you and Will curse in stereo.<br/>
<br/>
"Is Lucy there?" Blackwell asks, sounding distracted. "Have you seen her this weekend?" he asks when you say she isn't. To the second question you again demur. "One of her girlfriends is looking for her, and she called me," he says. "I was hoping you'd have seen her."<br/>
<br/>
"Her girlfriend has your private number?" Your heart skips.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," he says slowly. "She's another student of mine. Melody Weiss. Let me give you her number. I'd appreciate it if you talked to her. It's not like Lucy to disappear."<br/>
<br/>
You take down Melody's contact info and clap the phone shut. "Complications?" Will asks from the front door. You tell him what Blackwell said. "Christ, how many students does this guy have? It's turning into Hogwarts around here."<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't say she was a magic student."<br/>
<br/>
"What other kind of student would have his private cell phone number?"<br/>
<br/>
You drum the wall with your knuckles. "Maybe we should talk to her before getting rid of our friend out there."<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe we should get rid of our friend before <i>her</i> friend comes snooping around."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221
author_id: seuzz
title: Blackwell's Panic
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your hands are too full now to worry about this friend of Lucy's, and once Lucy is dead to the world her stuff will probably be irrelevant, so you blow her off and just concentrate on the plan you've developed. It goes off without a hitch, and by nightfall Lucy's SUV has been in a nasty accident and a newly pliant Yumi is at her house. That night you not only lock your door against the guardian, you shove a chair up under the knob. But it seems to have been well-fed after taking Lucy, and it hardly makes any noise.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Blackwell is surprised to see you still at the house the next morning when he arrives, though he is gratified to see you studying so hard. He hardly says anything except to express mystification at Lucy's disappearance. You wait with bated breath as he returns to the kitchen, where the morning paper is waiting. Lucy's accident is prominently mentioned on the front page, but after reading it you'd folded it up and returned it to its plastic bag.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" he calls, and you stroll in doing your best to feign nonchalance. Blackwell is very white in the face. "Lucy was killed in an accident over the weekend." With a trembling hand he gives the paper to you.<br/>
<br/>
You read the article (again) while pretending to be shocked. "Is there anything we need to do? What was she working on for you?"<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's eyes are white around the rims, and he fiddles his fingers nervously. "This is bad," he mutters. "This is very bad." He hiccups. "I must take a hot bath, to calm myself." His feet move uncertainly beneath him as he stumbles up the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's shock in turn shocks you. Whatever she was working on must have been very important to your mentor. You never had the impression that Lucy had deep reserves of intellect or talent. But then, you probably never gave anyone the same impression. Perhaps she was a natural-born witch—a thought, that once it occurs to you, seems very much in keeping with her personality.<br/>
<br/>
When Blackwell comes down after an hour he is calmer but still deeply troubled. "We will have to exhume her," he says to your great surprise. "It is best to wait until they have buried her, but then we must exhume her."<br/>
<br/>
You lick your lips. "Why? What's so important about her body?"<br/>
<br/>
He waves you to be silent. "In the meantime, you need to get into her house. Into her room, in particular. She has the <i>Libras.</i><br/>
<br/>
"She <i>what?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't argue, Will," he says firmly. "She has it and we need to get it back before her family discovers it or gets rid of it. Can you get in there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose I could use my new mask to copy her sister," you say. "But you were her professor, right? Couldn't you just call them and tell them she has this book of yours, and that you'd like them to set it aside for you?"<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates, then nods. "Yes, that would be much the least complicated way, wouldn't it?" He grimaces. "I have been much too wrapped up with masks, haven't I? My first instinct is to use them." He gives you a grateful smile. "I'm quite glad one of us at least has a clear head."<br/>
<br/>
And yet your own next thought is that you could use your new mask to sneak in and steal the book for yourself before Blackwell can collect it.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211
author_id: seuzz
title: Several Grave Matters
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The switch, when you make it, is almost ridiculously easy to pull off. You get your Yumi slave to set up a "condolence date" for that night with Lucy's bereaved sister, Cindy, at a downtown coffee shop. When Yumi arrives you lead her into a darkened alley, where she disrobes behind a dumpster. You then strip the mask off her, leaving a naked and crazed homeless guy, and you hurry away, stuffing clothes and mask into your backpack. In the coffeehouse, Cindy is startled when "Jared" (whom she has never seen before) sits down abruptly in the booth next to her, but she only has time to draw a sharp breath before you've got the blank mask on her face. You pretend to talk softly to her until the mask reappears, at which point you put the Yumi mask on her. Since Yumi is smaller than Cindy, there is no ripping of clothes. You pass Yumi's wardrobe to her, and she goes to the bathroom to change. When she reappears you take Cindy's clothes and make a switch of your own. Yumi keeps the booth warm, while you return to the Vredenburgs.<br/>
<br/>
Things take a little longer there, because it is covered up with relatives, and you have to be polite and make all the right snuffling noises. But you find the <i>Libras</i> on the family bookshelf and get it down without anyone noticing. After that, you are able to beg off more family business by pleading that you have friends waiting to comfort you elsewhere.<br/>
<br/>
Back at the coffee shop fortune continues to favor you, and you leave a naked and unconscious Cindy in the women's bathroom while you return to your table as Yumi. Cindy is completely disoriented when she comes out, and quickly accepts your suggestion that she go home. After that, you rendezvous with Will. You strip its mask and clothes off Yumi and watch from a discreet distance until you see her dress and drive off. You wonder how she will feel at finding so many of her days have been lost. When you call Blackwell he accepts your claim that you miss your family and want to spend the next few days with them. "Until we get the book back," he observes, "you can take a few days' vacation."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Except you don't take a vacation—not really. You set up a workshop of your own in the basement of the nearby, deserted elementary school: Some years ago you had found a way into it through an outside door and made a small "clubhouse" for you and your friends. You'd even put a padlock of your own on the door, and you're happy to find that it is still there. After school on Tuesday, then, you go there with the <i>Libras</i> and the makings for at least two new masks. While polishing up the first you make a close study of your prize, which you've not gotten to look at closely outside of Blackwell's purview.<br/>
<br/>
It's a tremendous experience. For a start, you notice things that you doubt Blackwell has, though you almost certainly wouldn't have noticed them yourself without the training he has given you. For a start, you perceive almost instantly that the atrocious Latin of the book is part of its design: the instructions and lists of ingredients, though they make literal sense, are also punning acrostics with clues on how to extend the range of the sigils themselves. Most of these tricks you had figured out yourself during your marathon, two-bodied session over the weekend, but you are ecstatic to discover several new tricks, including a method for detecting the presence of mask-wearing impostors. <br/>
<br/>
The terrible discovery—one that Blackwell hasn't told you about, and which has probably gotten him quite exercised—is that the book is damaged: The page for the eighth spell has its entire bottom half ripped away, leaving only the list of ingredients but no instructions on how to put them together. Parts of the ninth spell are visible where the previous page is ripped away, but the words are blurred and unreadable because of the protecting magic. Unless and until you can figure out the eighth spell, you cannot go any further in the book.<br/>
<br/>
Your time at school is more difficult—fraught, even. All the bullies continue to avoid you, but Caleb and Keith are just as distant and uncomfortable around you. "Come on, guys," you plead when you corner them at lunch on Friday. "Look, I'm the same guy I always was. I don't care what shit people are saying about me."<br/>
<br/>
"Really, are people saying shit about you?" Caleb says with bright insincerity. <br/>
<br/>
"You know what I mean. All that 'hex' business is fucking messed up."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know nothin' about hexes," Keith says without looking at you. "But I gotta say that you've gotten kind of creepy lately. Ever since you got that job."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "What? How am I different? Carson and James and those guys don't think there's anything wrong with me." You've taken to spending more time with Ioeger and Lamont and their friends than with Caleb and Keith, because it's less lonely and they are congenial company anyway. <br/>
<br/>
"They don't know you like we know you," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"And what's that supposed to mean? That I always was creepy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Honestly, there's always been a little ... something ... about you."<br/>
<br/>
Great. Now he's inventing new memories to justify his present feelings. "Remember our clubhouse, back at the old school, where we used to hang out?" you ask with great patience.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. That was <i>one</i> thing that was creepy."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, let's just meet there some time this weekend. Like old times. Let's talk."<br/>
<br/>
You can tell that Caleb is suppressing a shudder, but he doesn't turn you down.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, talk isn't going to do any good. But you will do your damnedest to get Blackwell to pass along a cure you can use on them, to undo the hex. And you're sure you'll have to get them alone anyway, if you're to use whatever cure he can provide you with.<br/>
<br/>
But Blackwell is in no mood to talk about such things when he calls you on Friday and asks you to come out on Saturday evening. Lucy's funeral will be that afternoon, and that night is when you'll need to dig her up. "I assume you have my golem there at school with you," he says, causing your heart to pound. "Bring him along too. It'll be faster and easier if two of you do the job."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend Saturday trying to come up with an excuse for what to tell Blackwell about his missing golem, but when the time comes you have to settle lamely for telling him that you've arranged to meet the golem at the cemetery. He unwittingly calls your bluff when he tells you he'll be accompanying you. It's a nerve-wracking drive out, and after you arrive to find no one waiting, you have to make a fake phone call and tell Blackwell that the golem has been trapped at its house and can't escape. He makes a face, and tells you you'll have to do the digging yourself in that case. "Just get it uncovered," he assures you. "I'll do the nasty business with the corpse myself."<br/>
<br/>
It's long, hard, cold labor, punctuated by frequent terrifying breaks when you have to hide from what sounds like intruders. But no one shows up, and you have lots of time to worry over what you will tell Blackwell when he uncovers the Lucy-disguised golem. You find yourself wishing you had brought your just-completed mask: you could jump him with it, knock him out, and bury him alive; but he's a magician and the worst thing you could do is piss him off should he find a way out. You're reduced to hoping that whatever he needs with her body can be done without unmasking her.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, you get the top of the coffin undone, and Blackwell sends you away while he drops into the hole. He is there a very long time, and you pace nervously. You are trembling when he calls you over. He gestures you to bend close.<br/>
<br/>
"This is very disturbing, Will," he says. "There was a golem in the coffin. It was wearing a mask of Lucy." He holds it up. "I want you to put it on, and tell me what it has been doing and how it got there. You will probably—" He bites his lip. "You will probably learn some surprising things."<br/>
<br/>
You know how Lucy died, and the last thing you want to do is relive her final moments. This is your last chance to confess to Blackwell. Or you could betray your mentor and jam the mask onto his own face. From the way you saw her act when you put the mask on a golem, you are sure Blackwell would never escape from that.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Jackpot
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Blackwell is trapped in the hole, which makes it ridiculously easy to turn the mask around and shove it against his own face. But when you do so, nothing happens. He stumbles back and slouches against the side of the open grave, but the mask doesn't disappear. It just glows very brightly.<br/>
<br/>
It takes you several seconds to recover from your shock; fortunately, your close recent study of the <i>Libras</i> means you quickly grasp what is going on: the mask is trying to copy what is beneath, but is being blocked by its own kind of magic. That can only mean ...<br/>
<br/>
You take the mask off Blackwell's face. He blinks dazedly, but is in too deep a stupor to resist when you reach out to his brow, mutter the incantation, and rip his face off. "Well, well," you murmur to yourself. "So that's where the real Lucy Vredenburg has been all this time." A stone golem, in the shape of Lucy, now stands in the hole, dressed as Blackwell. "I should have guessed. You had to sacrifice someone to complete the sixth spell." You feel a smirk crawl up the side of your face and address the mask. "And now, Aubrey, let me guess where the <i>real</i> you has been hiding."<br/>
<br/>
You don't need to put on the mask of Blackwell to feel reasonably certain what you will learn, but you strip—for fear of tearing your own clothes—and put it on. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I must say, Will," you say in Blackwell's plummy tones, "that it has been a most satisfactory evening. Do get that thing covered up again, there's a good lad. I'll be in the car." You slip on his blazer and waddle back to the warmth of the car. You catch sight of Will Prescott giving you the finger as he tosses another shovelful of dirt into the hole. <br/>
<br/>
You'd given some thought to repurposing the dirt to make a new golem for yourself, but you feel confident you can find a way to break Blackwell's hold on his own golems. After all, the man himself has been spirited away by occult forces and has no further influence on the mortal plane. You wish you had seen earlier what is now so obvious—that Blackwell was frequently moonlighting as Lucy Vredenburg and leaving a golem to carry out his mundane activities. No wonder "Lucy" was able to construct such a cunning sigil up in the workroom. <br/>
<br/>
You shiver a little bit in sympathy: Aubrey Blackwell was a capable magician, and he got caught in the toils of his own schemes and came to the stickiest kind of end when the gwarcheidwad broke through his defenses at the end. The same thing might happen to you, if you are not careful. And yet now that you have his own memories and schemes to pick through at your leisure, you feel rather confident that you will not make the same egregious blunders. (Though you might still make others, you remind yourself.)<br/>
<br/>
The first thing to do, of course, is repair the <i>Libras.</i> Though Blackwell is an unimaginative sort of magician and certainly did <i>not</i> perceive the double meanings encoded in the spells, he has deeper learning and intuitions than you. Having united his intellect and your talents, though ... You chuckle. It is all so blessedly obvious now!<br/>
<br/>
Further reading in the book should clear up a few more mysteries, such as the connection between yourself, the book, and the Shabbleman family in Cuthbert. They were the ones who were supposed to get the book from the estate of Margaret Jones of Schenectady, New York, before Blackwell snatched it back. The Shabblemans are cousins of yours—the kind of inbred cousins that no one wants to acknowledge being related to—and this fact piques your curiosity. Blackwell's golem, on its just-concluded trip to Cuthbert, didn't find out much that was interesting, except that no one had ever heard of Margaret Jones or had any notion of her existence. You might also try getting into Salopek Engineering, which by a remarkable coincidence is where Blackwell had Jones' belongings deposited after he waylaid them.<br/>
<br/>
Did you think "coincidence"? No, there are no coincidences in this sort of thing. That's one reason Blackwell came a cropper, you are sure; the <i>Libras</i> has been trying to get to you, and Blackwell has now paid the price for getting in its way.<br/>
<br/>
These musing are interrupted as the dirty and stinking Will Prescott jumps into the cab. "Back to your place, boss?" he says. He gives you a sidelong glance after you nod. "You'll wanna shower before going home."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You'll</i> want to shower, Will," you retort. "You will be the one going home."<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to stay like that?" he asks in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"For a few days," you complacently reply, clasping your hands over your prodigious belly. "I've got a great deal to ruminate on."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," he replies. "You've got Blackwell's brain, his library, his money and his job. You've got the <i>Libras.</i>" He shakes its head. "I'd call this a jackpot."<br/>
<br/>
You snigger—an ugly sound, even you realize—and then frown and glance at your watch. 11:36 PM. "Get me home," you snap. "It's almost midnight and I don't need the gwarcheidwad making trouble when I walk in the door. Pick up the <i>Libras</i> from the clubhouse tomorrow after church and drop it off in the afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"What about the thing in the back?" He jerks his head at the truck bed, which is carrying the golem you pulled out of the coffin.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll drop it off at the front gate. It's not going anywhere."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning passes pleasantly enough as you trace out some useful sigils. But your Prescott slave is the bearer of awful news when it arrives after church: the <i>Libras</i> and the two masks are missing from the clubhouse. With a cry you tear the golem's face off, being momentarily convinced that it is lying and has betrayed you somehow. But once you have its mask on your own face you must recognize the truth: Someone got into the basement and made off with your great prize.<br/>
<br/>
Grimly, you realize what must have happened: Since the padlock hadn't been forced, it must have been someone with a key. And that points to only one suspect: Caleb, with whom you shared copies of the key—and who you recently reminded about the existence of the clubhouse.<br/>
<br/>
If he and/or Keith made off with the masks, there's a nearly 100% chance they've discovered what they do, and have linked the business to your "magical" ways. And that will make them really paranoid about why you wanted them down in the clubhouse. And with the book ... Well, they could start making masks of their own.<br/>
<br/>
Should you come clean with them and make a full breast of what you've been up to? Or should you try filching the book back, even if it means using magic against them?</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121
author_id: seuzz
title: Three Kings
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The first thing to do is fix the hex so that Caleb and Keith aren't even more distrustful of you than they should be. Luckily, the necessary spell is not too hard to put together, though getting them to execute the cure will be more difficult. You decide to wait until Monday to do that. Sunday night you go home as yourself in preparation for the week ahead.<br/>
<br/>
The next morning you manage to pin Caleb to the locker the two of you share in theory, though you haven't seen him there much in recent days. "Look, we have to talk," you tell him levelly.<br/>
<br/>
"Do we?" He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess maybe we do. If that's the real you," he adds with a curl of the lip.<br/>
<br/>
You ignore the gibe. "I'll avoid you and Keith the rest of the day. But can we meet after school?"<br/>
<br/>
He thinks a moment, then nods. "Sure. How about the clubhouse? You know, for old time's sake?" You make a face, but accede. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb's car is already out front of the school when you arrive, and the lock is off the door. Probably you should have been expecting trouble, but your sixth sense was asleep when you walked in to find Caleb standing in the middle of the basement. "Where's Keith?" you ask. And in answer you feel strong arms clamp to your sides. Caleb steps forward and puts a mask to your face ...<br/>
<br/>
You come to with a groan and try to sit up, but fall back. Your hands ... Shit, they've got you tied up, good and tight too, by the feel of it. You twist around and look. Keith is staring back at you with a gnomic expression. Next to him ... is yourself, looking very thoughtful. Your double is wearing Caleb's clothes. <br/>
<br/>
You sigh. This wasn't the way you'd planned it, but maybe it will work out if they can see from the inside that you were being sincere.<br/>
<br/>
No one says anything for a good long time. There's no point in you talking; Keith just stares off; and Caleb is wrapped up in your own thoughts. Finally, the latter shakes himself with a sigh. "Interesting," he says. "Who'd have guessed that Will Prescott of all people had that kind of talent hidden away."<br/>
<br/>
"You know we're friends, right?" you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I know what <i>you</i> think," he retorts. "I'm not sure you want to know what I think." But he sighs and leans toward you. "But let's get that hex bullshit out of the way. I can't stand the sight of you, but maybe that will change."<br/>
<br/>
It feels weird being in his power as he pulls up your sleeve, takes the indelible marker from your pocket, and carefully traces the sigil onto your bicep. "This may sting a little," he says. "Fuck, I hope it hurts like hell." He writes his name around the rim of the circle and gives you a penetrating glance. "Huh. I still don't much like what I see, but I don't want to vomit anymore." He hands the marker to Keith, who with much more apparent reluctance writes his name there too.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Now that that's over, can you untie me?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs and pushes you over to tug at the ropes. You rub your wrists once you're free. "Now what, bro?" you ask. Actually, you've spent the last fifteen minutes trying to anticipate what he'll say, since he has your head to think with. You're not terribly surprised by his demands.<br/>
<br/>
"I still don't totally trust you," he says. "This book and this power isn't something to be shared. But I know you weren't planning to use it against us. Well, you did <i>think</i> about it, but I guess that's natural. The point is—" He drums his fingers. "The point is that we're going to have to make a pact. So we all know we can't screw each other."<br/>
<br/>
"You might start by sharing what you know with Keith," you say. "I mean, he's the only one now still in the dark." Keith gives Caleb a sidelong glance.<br/>
<br/>
"No worries there," says Caleb. "He gets to be Will Prescott for the rest of today. Most of tomorrow too."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" Keith blurts out when you don't say anything.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean we're going to share and share alike. For a little while," Caleb says. "When I get this thing off, make sure you get it on before Will can grab it." He puts his hand to his forehead, murmurs, and tears the face off. He falls back as he does so, and Keith clumsily grabs the mask up. He gives you a dark glance after he has it, but you just shrug, and he puts it on.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is still out, and after waiting a few moments you shake him gently, and he sits up with a start. "Anything you want to tell me while it's just the two of us?" you ask. "I mean, before it's the two of me and the three of us?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb glances at Keith and shrugs. "He'll catch up soon enough. The plan is that we take turns being Will Prescott. We also take turns being this Aubrey Blackwell fellow. That way there are always two magicians in play to counter each other. That will keep the third guy safe, until we can get a new arrangement set up."<br/>
<br/>
"And what arrangement would that be?" <br/>
<br/>
"What do you think of the basketball team's chances this year?" he asks as the new Will Prescott sits up. You blink. "I think they can take the championship if they can get past Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
The two of you talk in this fashion for a little while, gossiping about the sports teams, the cheerleaders, and other people in the school while the disguised Keith retreats into his own thoughts. It ends when he interrupts. "So we separate," he says, as though this follows obviously from the conversation.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," says Caleb. "We rotate masks until we've made six more. Well, five, I guess." He leans forward. "Then one of us gets Westside as a playground. Another takes over Eastman. And the third gets the university."<br/>
<br/>
"Take over?" you object. "There's a limit on the number of golems we can make. At least, safely."<br/>
<br/>
"I know," Caleb says impatiently. "I'm not talking about replacing <i>everyone.</i> I mean, we take over the life of someone at each place, and put in a little protection, replacing girlfriends, best friends, maybe family members, with golems under our control. Enough to feel somewhat safe."<br/>
<br/>
"Safe from each other? Jesus, I was hoping we'd be friends."<br/>
<br/>
"We would be," Keith says. He seems to have fully caught up to Caleb's reasoning. "It's just a way of feeling confident. After that we can demonstrate our friendship with each other."<br/>
<br/>
"I think I see," you say. "We each have our own little kingdom and our little group of slaves. And whoever gets the university gets Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
"And whoever gets Westside gets Prescott," Keith says. "Keep the magicians separate."<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of leaves the Eastman guy exposed," you point out. "Oh, except—"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb nods. "He gets the book."<br/>
<br/>
"I should take Eastman, then."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb and Keith look at each other. The latter shakes his head. "I think it would be a bad idea for the natural-born magician to have the <i>Libras.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"It would probably be a bad idea for me to have Blackwell's library, too," you retort. You're beginning to feel put upon. "Come to that, it's probably a bad idea to leave me in control of the fake Prescott. One of you will want him."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, those are all good points," Caleb says. "So, to show we're not starting off on the wrong foot, we'll let you pick any of the three, and pick first."</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211
author_id: seuzz
title: Preparations for the Plan
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I want to repair the book," you say. "Or is that something we should leave alone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we repair it," says Keith. "Otherwise, the other two will wonder what the Eastman guy is up to with it. But we unlock each spell only in each other's presence."<br/>
<br/>
"Makes sense," you say. "In that case I pick Eastman. I want to get started."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, hang on," Caleb says. "First we have to get masks made. We need one for each of us, except there's already one of you, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Two, actually."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but this one is the one we keep," says Keith. "The other will have to be destroyed or hidden."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" asks Caleb. Apparently your memories are fading from his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Because it's Prescott's slave, you dope. We'll need to get rid of the mask of Yumi, too. We can keep Cindy, though. I can use her to get to Javits." He suddenly looks very cheerful—Javits has long been his nemesis. "I think I just decided I want Westside. That okay with you, Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "I was sick of high school anyway. College will be a lot more cool."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so if Cindy counts, then that is two masks accounted for. We need to make four more."<br/>
<br/>
"Three," says Caleb. He reaches into his backpack and pulls out an unpolished mask.<br/>
<br/>
"So," you say. "Keith gets to be me until tomorrow afternoon. That means I need to hide out at Blackwell's."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if Keith is being me, and you're being Blackwell, where would I go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah," Caleb nods. "Makes sense." He lets out a sigh of relief and nudges you. "If that's all set, then, how about getting the stuff together for those new masks. I'll start polishing this one."<br/>
<br/>
There's a tenseness in the air as you part, but it is not unfriendly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The following week goes fairly slowly. You spend Tuesday and Wednesday as Blackwell and Thursday as yourself; Friday and Saturday as Blackwell and Sunday as yourself. You and your two friends get all the necessary masks made and polished up by Monday; it's the tedium of polishing in your spare time that makes the week go by slowly. You manage to keep the continuities of personalities straight, though Keith and Caleb have to keep missing school and arranging "sleep over" dates to explain their absences from home when one or both are busy pretending to be other people. But Monday after school the three of you gather at Blackwell's. "Just in time for Halloween," Keith chortles. There's a fair amount of camaraderie in the air, and you high-five each other.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you settled on someone yet?" you ask Keith.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck yeah. I'll use Cindy long enough to grab Javits. After him I'll take Gordon Black. Then Chelsea." He kisses his fingertips and leans back, not shy about showing off his boner. <br/>
<br/>
You look over at Caleb. "I wanted the book long enough to make up some mind strips," he says. I'll use them on Blackwell's students until I find a good situation. How about you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've still got the Yumi mask," you reply. "She's got cousins in Eastman, I think I remember. A few cheerleading acquaintances."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, let me set you up with people over there that Gordon or Chelsea know," Keith says." That way we can be tight without it looking funny."<br/>
<br/>
"That's a point," Caleb says. "They might know someone at the university, too. Save me some time."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Last Temptation of Will Prescott
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'm tired of waiting," you say. "Let me just use Yumi. The sooner I can get into Eastman the sooner I can get the rest of the book unlocked." You've been dying to get your hands back on the book, which Caleb and Keith have kept away from you until now. <br/>
<br/>
"You know, if you're so eager to get to the next spells," Caleb says. "Why not unlock that torn page now? We're all here, and you've a pretty good idea of what to do, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You start a little in surprise. "You're willing to let me jump the gun?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like I say, we're all here. Besides, the next spell might be useful for the rest of the plan."<br/>
<br/>
So the three of you take the book upstairs and use it to make a mind-strip, which is the primary ingredient in the spell. The rest of the ingredients just have to do with putting the finish on it. <br/>
<br/>
"The whole trick was reading it right," you point out happily as you carve the runes into the strip. "Everything is right there on the top of the page. I bet the bottom of the page was just blank. Poor Blackwell," you sneer contemptuously. "He kept jabbering about the book 'seeking' me out, and never thought to take it seriously. So when he saw the ingredients called for 'libras anima' he had no idea what to do, even with the help of the runes themselves: 'Use me to solve me' is their proper translation, not, as he thought, 'My use is the solution'. So simple when you think of it," you chuckle. "The damn page was torn on purpose, and you had to be smart enough to see that the whole point of the spell was to create the means to get past the tear." You press the newly minted strip against the spine of the book, and it sinks out of sight. "I suppose if it had called for 'mentis libras' he would have gotten it, but the idea that the book itself has an animating spirit? Never crossed his mind."<br/>
<br/>
The strip reappears, and you flip back to the damaged page. "This should do it." You place the strip on the page, and again it briefly glows and sinks out of sight, not to reappear. The rest of the page—which, as you surmised, is blank—suddenly regenerates. It easily turns. <br/>
<br/>
And all of your faces fall when you see the next spell: a paragraph that takes up a full page, with no breaks or obvious list of ingredients. "Well, this'll take forever," Keith mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"No shit," Caleb concurs. "I think we've waited long enough to get the masks together. You guys can start on your targets. Make me up some more mind strips?" he asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"You're leaving the book with me?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "The deal was the guy at Eastman gets the book. You're ready to do that, so you might as well keep it. Besides, you'll have all the guys you want by the time you get <i>that</i> figured out." He makes a face and points at the new spell.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After he and Keith drop you off at your house, though, you are drawn back to the new spell instead of immediately using the nearby Yumi mask to call up her cousins. Your success at getting past the torn page has left you feeling confident that the new spell can't be that hard.<br/>
<br/>
And after several hours of work you sit back with a shiver. You were right, it did yield surprisingly easily, though only because you are now so steeped in the book's logic. It's not a spell but the formula for a sigil; each word both refers to a sigil element but also, by its grammar, intimates which other ones are to be connected to it, and how. The actual method by which it is be executed is left to your own invention—the book now presumes you are smart enough to see the various ways by which its incantations can be realized. <br/>
<br/>
The important thing now—and this is what makes you shiver—is what it clearly is meant to do. Caleb was right: the <i>Libras</i> is not the sort of thing that can be shared, unless everyone concerned has taken serious precautions to protect themselves against each other. You doubt even Caleb's plan, which you agreed to, could be a serious protection: already you can glimpse one way an unscrupulous person could circumvent his most ingenious precautions. And his plans aren't even realized yet; he and Keith are terribly vulnerable. You have only to act quickly, and you could end your partnership with them completely, and have the book back for yourself. But are you that unscrupulous?<br/>
<br/>
You flip back idly to the restored eight spell: the ninth spell, it is so obvious in retrospect, was implicit in the eighth. You glare at the book, and at the temptation it offers. "You really are a son of a bitch," who mutter at it accusingly. "But you know that, don't you?"</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Two Wills for the Price of One
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You get up at the crack of dawn the next morning and without showering drive out to Blackwell's. You and your friends left the Blackwell golem (who is under Caleb's control) in charge, and he reluctantly lets you in. "It's alright," you tell him. "I just had an idea and wanted to check it out real fast. I'll be in the workroom. Lemme know when Caleb or anyone else shows up."<br/>
<br/>
An hour later Blackwell calls you down: you've got two strips made up, but haven't finished the runic writing on them. "Yo, slap that mask of me on a golem and send him to school for me, okay?" you ask Keith, who is standing in the kitchen with Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna charge it with your most recent memories?"<br/>
<br/>
"My morning jack-off session wasn't <i>that</i> special," you retort. "He can have one of his own if he wants."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you taking over for Blackwell this morning?" Caleb asks. "We were going to try doiing the switch with Cindy this afternoon, and I was going to handle things using him."<br/>
<br/>
"What was the plan?"<br/>
<br/>
"Call her and tell he had some of her sister's old papers and ask her to pick them up after school. Keith would be there, and we'd do the switch in his office."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds good," you say, "but do you mind handling it? I wanted to spend the day here working on the new spell."<br/>
<br/>
"What about using Yumi to get to her cousins?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't do that till this afternoon anyway. I might as well get some of this stuff done."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," Caleb says. "We'll just use the second golem to send me to school and I'll stay here until Blackwell needs to go up to the university."<br/>
<br/>
"Excellent. I might could use your help."<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later Caleb joins you up in the workroom. "Everyone's all gone off. Gotta say, I love being able to skip school without anyone knowing the difference."<br/>
<br/>
You grin without looking up from your work. "Makes getting an education a hell of a lot easier, eh? It took Blackwell thirty years to learn all he knew, and we picked it up in a night." You stretch a crick from your neck. "We'll start making up some mind strips for you tonight so you can get to work on getting some students. You might think about using one on a prof who knows Latin, though. German would be another good language to grab."<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't these mind strips you're making here?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "They're part of the new spell. Well, maybe. I think I broke part of the spell last night, and thought if I put that part together then more of it would fall into place." You tap the <i>Libras</i>, which is open. "The weird thing is that there is no sigil. I think you're supposed to figure that part out for yourself." You don't tell him you already have the sigil made; it's on a scrap of paper in the left-hand drawer of the work table.<br/>
<br/>
"It's gotten harder, hasn't it?" Caleb observes.<br/>
<br/>
"The guy who made the book wanted to keep the riff-raff from figuring out the rest of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll be downstairs eating breakfast if you need any help. I'll be leaving by ten, though."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll see you before then, even if it's just to say bye."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
An hour later you've finished the first anima-band and charged it with the sigil. It feels greasy as you put it to your forehead.  Nothing to seems to happen, but when you rub your head again you find it has disappeared. You swallow hard and look through the spell again. Well, it would make sense: Since the band should only be used to copy people who know what is going on, there is no need for it to knock them out. A minute later, it falls onto the bench in front of you. Your own name blazes out from it in fiery red letters.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is sitting in the living room watching TV when you go downstairs. You nod wordlessly at him, then kneel on his lap and slap the band to his forehead. It disappears.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes go out of focus for a moment, and then he blinks. He looks up at you from under his eyebrows. "You son of a bitch. There's just no trusting you."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh nothing," he sighs and stretches his lanky arms. "So this is what it's like being Caleb Johansson." He regards his hands thoughtfully. "Can't say it's much of an improvement. I still want a better body."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll get you one." You cock your head and look down at him. "You're not my slave or anything, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck no. I just want what you want. Well, what you would want if you found yourself magically transferred into Caleb's body."<br/>
<br/>
"But you're not—" You bite your lip; this is a bit odder than you'd thought it might be. "Who are you. Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Will Prescott, same as you. Except—" He touches his chest. "Except I'm here instead of there." He touches your chest. "I mean, I know what's going on. The whole anima-band thing. You just used it to convince Caleb that—" He breaks off and gives you a mischievous grin. "Are we really sure that you just put a copy of your anima into Caleb's body? I mean, maybe <i>I've</i> got the real anima, and it just left a copy inside <i>your</i> miserable old sack."<br/>
<br/>
You feel a chill and say nothing. Because the way he puts it ... Well, you <i>can't</i> know who is the real you. But you don't say that. "I'm pretty sure I'm the real Will Prescott. I've got the fingerprints to prove it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well," he laughs. "Just let me put on the mask of Prescott's body and then let's see. Seriously, though, you can get off me now."<br/>
<br/>
You plop onto the sofa next to him, and the two of you gaze speculatively at each other.<br/>
<br/>
"We're not <i>really</i> going to use that other anima-band on Keith, are we?" he says slowly.<br/>
<br/>
"Why wouldn't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's confusing enough with two of us. And he doesn't know what's happened here. What's to stop us from, you know, golemizing that mask of him and sticking it on him? Make him our slave?"<br/>
<br/>
You cock an eyebrow. "We wouldn't double-cross him like that. Would we?"</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Trouble with Doubles
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You think a lot about the new spell; and as you toss and turn in bed, you see a lot of dangers that were not immediately apparent. By morning, after a mostly sleepless night, you've decided the thing is far too dangerous to employ for its obvious uses. <br/>
<br/>
But that doesn't mean you can't share it with Keith and Caleb, once you've explained it to them. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You hit school just before Caleb and Keith arrive in the latter's car. "Yo," you call. "Ready for the day's excitement?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, my dick's been going up and down all morning," Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"Like a fucking drawbridge," Caleb grumbles. "I had to watch it all the way over."<br/>
<br/>
"No one made you stare at my crotch," Keith retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"It was hard to ignore."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he grins. "I got big cock, don't I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you ask Caleb, "can I hit Blackwell's while you're at the college with Keith? I wanna do some research."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine with me," Caleb says, "but you should check with my boss."<br/>
<br/>
You blink, and Keith laughs. "Yeah," he says, "we just dropped the real fucker off at Blackwell's. Can't tell the difference, can you?" He punches Caleb's golem in the arm, and the golem puts him in a headlock. It's part of your arrangement: each partner's replacement will be under that partner's control. Except for the replacement for you, who will be Keith's slave.<br/>
<br/>
So you call the fake Blackwell up at home and arrange to spend the day at the villa while he's in class. "Gimme the mask of me," you tell Keith, who compliantly draws it from his backpack. "I'm going to Blackwell's now, and I'll send it back on a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," Keith smiles. "It'll be fun having you to push around ahead of schedule."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You use the ninth spell to make up two of the new kind of mind strip, and spend the rest of the day just doing research related to the new spell. You're still there, as per your intentions, when Blackwell returns.<br/>
<br/>
"Why Jared," he says in surprise. "I haven't seen you in awhile."<br/>
<br/>
"Old habit," you reply. "Since there's a fake Will Prescott running around I thought I'd put this mask on. You reflect on the surroundings. "It does feel like old times, doesn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
He smiles indulgently. "Making headway on the new spell?"<br/>
<br/>
"As a matter of fact, I've got it licked." You hold up one of the strips. "I haven't tested it yet. You mind going first? You'll have to take the mask off, of course."<br/>
<br/>
He regards you warily, then pulls Blackwell's face off and takes the strip. "What do I do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just put it to your forehead."<br/>
<br/>
"And what does it do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Remember our bargain? I haven't unlocked the next spell yet, so I haven't turned the page," you tell him truthfully, though you don't need to turn the page to know what will happen. In fact, you suspect the reverse of the page will be blank.<br/>
<br/>
He puts it to his head, and it sinks in and vanishes. But he doesn't pass out; rather, he blinks and looks around. "Is something supposed to happen?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure." You cup your chin in your hand and watch. "Let's find out."<br/>
<br/>
The two of you frown at each other for a few minutes, and then the band reappears and drops into his lap. "It has my name on it now," he says as he examines it. "Red letters instead of blue, this time." He holds it out. "So, you want to try it on, see if it works?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd really rather not," you say, pulling back. "Because actually, I kind of lied earlier. I know what it does, and it is very bad news."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes freeze, and you can see the mistrust, which has been absent for many days, begin to re-crystallize. <br/>
<br/>
"You see, that kind of band there doesn't just copy the mind and memories and personality," you explain, pointing to it. "It copies the <i>anima</i>, the vital force inside a person. That's a much stronger thing than just the mind. It's the stuff that makes you into, well, you. It's like a copy of your soul, plus the other stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"So what happens if you put it on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you put a regular strip on someone, it just gives them the copied person's memories. But they know that they are not that person. So if I put a regular strip of your mind on, I'd know I'm still me. I'd just have access to your mind and memory and personality."<br/>
<br/>
"But with this 'anima'—"<br/>
<br/>
"With the anima, it would wipe out my sense of who I am. I would think that I was really you. I would look around and say 'Whoa, I'm Caleb Johansson, and I've just been swapped into Will Prescott's body.' I'd double-check and say 'Yeah, I've got my old memories from when I was in Caleb's body, but I've got Will's body and his memory and personality too.' Then I'd look at you and say 'Whoa, bro, now there's two of us, and one of us has taken over Will's mind and body'."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes flicker, and he licks his lips. "And if you copied your 'anima' into one of these strips, and put it on me—"<br/>
<br/>
"Then you'd think you were me. Be totally convinced of it."<br/>
<br/>
He takes a deep breath and turns very white. You lean forward; you don't mean to startle him, but he jumps. You hold up your hands.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, lemme explain something," you tell him hurriedly. "When I say this stuff is bad news, you understand why. One of us might try using these things to take over the other two. And I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't occurred to me. But I thought a lot more about it, and I realize I can't use these things. And you guys can't use them on me."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?" His voice is skeptical.<br/>
<br/>
"Because the anima contains your essence, including your talents. If I made a copy of my anima and put it on you, or on Keith, I'd be creating another magician. And I just got rid of a rival." You point to Blackwell's mask. "I'm not about to make another."<br/>
<br/>
"But you've already got another one out there. The mask of yourself that Keith has."<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "Not the same thing. It's got my knowledge, but not the talent, the spark. Keith can wear it, and he can see and think the kind of things I can see and think. But he can't make the same things I can." You indicate your research material. "It's one of the things that separated me from Blackwell. He had knowledge, but no real talent. If I make another one of me, I've made a rival a lot more powerful than Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
"But he'd have your mind and stuff. He wouldn't be a rival."<br/>
<br/>
"He wouldn't be my slave," you point out. "He wouldn't be like a golem. He'd think for himself, have his own desires, follow his own ... bliss, or whatever. We might start off being a lot alike, but if we diverged ..."<br/>
<br/>
"I see what you mean," Caleb says quietly. Then he looks at you keenly. "But what's to stop me or Keith from stealing a copy of this ... essence of yours, grabbing a copy of your talent for ourselves?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Except you wouldn't want to. You'd destroy yourself when you put the band on. You wouldn't forget what you know. But you'd forget it was <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He mulls this, then tosses away the band he was holding. "Then the fucking things are useless."<br/>
<br/>
"No," you say with a slow smile as you pick it up. "It's a bad idea copying me, or putting one on me. You and Keith, though, could find them <i>really</i> useful. Keith could stick them on Javits and Black and Patterson and Chelsea, and those people would then be totally simpatico with him, because they'd be dominated by a personality just like his. You could use 'em too."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stares at you open-mouthed. And then he returns your grin.<br/>
<br/>
"And I could use them too. This copy you just made of yourself—" You pick up Caleb's discarded anima-band. "I'd have a much easier time getting into Eastman if there was a copy of <i>you</i> inside Yumi's cousins to help guide me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"If you want to get to anyone at Eastman fast, you want Alyssa," Dana Pak says. She taps last year's yearbook photograph of a boldly attractive, African-American cheerleader. "She's plugged in everyplace, and she's the head cheerleader too."<br/>
<br/>
"She's pretty, but what about guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Plugged-in guys? Then you want Sammy Orson." She squirms as she flips a couple of pages.<br/>
<br/>
"Not bad-looking," you muse at the guy's Italian features. You frown. "But doesn't he look kind of— Will you stop playing with your pussy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," she gasps. "It's just so awesome having one." She falls back and spreads her legs and rubs the insides of her thighs. "You know, Yumi, you're awfully pretty, and suddenly I am bi-curious." <br/>
<br/>
The door opens and her sister, Sarah, comes in with two glasses of water. She closes the door with her heel, sets them both down, and drops onto Dana, mashing her lips against hers. The two embrace and kiss lustfully.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to pour something over you two. And if your parents catch you girls making out—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, we'll be good," Sarah says, pushing away from Dana. She pulls her hair out of her face, which is flushed. "Wanna go running later, sis? I'd love to see you in a film of sweat."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, just tell me who you can get me into and let me go home. And remember who you're supposed to be."<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Dana says. "I can get you into Shawn Gregory with no problem. He's the number two guy on the basketball team. Nice guy, great athlete. Popular. Or just about any girl."</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211121
author_id: rugal
title: Shawn Gregory
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You look at Dana and shake your head. "No, that's fine. This Shawn Gregory guy seems like he'd be a good place to start with." you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" Dana asks with a smirk, "Because I can get you someone like Alyssa Randall who's the top dog of the school. I mean you <i>did</i> say your intention was of running things there right?"<br/>
<br/>
You look at her, "Well yeah but don't you think that might be a bit too much too soon?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"You have those memory strip things right?" Dana replies with a question of her own, "So just use those and you'd know everything Alyssa knows."<br/>
<br/>
You raise an eyebrow at her and then once again shake your head. "No. At least... not right now. I'd rather get a better feel for the school first before I go running around as the chick that holds all the power." is all you can say.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't think Caleb and Keith will want to start at the top of Westside and the university?" she asks, "I mean I've got Caleb's... anima... thing and it's what I'd probably do if I had the chance."<br/>
<br/>
"You have Caleb's anima filtered through Dana's thoughts and feelings." you explain, "I know how big you girls are on hierarchy since, you know, I've BEEN girls. That's probably affecting things a bit, skewing your perception."<br/>
<br/>
"Mmmmaybe." is all she can really reply with, "Okay so... meet me back here tomorrow around 4:00 or 4:30 then. I should be able to bring him back here for you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"I like that you wore that mask." Sarah says grinning.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head in disbelief. You had gone up to Keith earlier during school to take a piece of his hair. Afterwards, you had made a quick stop by the clubhouse to golemize the mask of yourself so it'd obey Keith and then got ready to head over to the Pak residence. "Get ready" in this case involved putting on the Yumi mask as you couldn't remember the directions to Dana's place off the top of your head. You hadn't even bothered to get changed so there was Yumi sitting in the Pak's living room wearing the same raggy t-shirt and jeans that Will had been wearing about half-an-hour earlier.<br/>
<br/>
"You know I'm your cousin right now, right?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"A hot girl's a hot girl and you're definitely a babe right now." she replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh, gross." you say making a disgusted face, "Remind me to get Caleb's anima out of you when I'm all set up since obviously putting it in a 15-year-old girl was a big mistake. Way too many hormones." You were referring to how the anima bands would "sink" into the person who they were attached to much like when applying a mask. Getting one out (and thus removing the anima) was a bit like removing a mask... only the mask wasn't there and to do so required intense concentration.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah just shrugged, "Whatever." she said. "Anyway why be Shawn? He's a senior so you're only gonna have a few months to run things anyway. Taking someone like me or Carrie Carmichael or Joanna would be better since you'd have years to work with it."  She looks thoughtful and then grins, "Oh man, the things we could do if you were Jo or Carrie... or Helen..."<br/>
<br/>
"God, is that really all you can think about right now?" you ask, "Anyway I plan on grabbing a masks for some lower classmen before the year is up for that rea--" You're interrupted by your phone ringing and pulling it out of your pocket you see that it's Dana calling. "Hello?" you answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey W--wait, Yumi?" comes Dana's reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sorry. Forgot I was still wearing this." you answer, "Yeah it's Will I just had to wear the Yumi mask to remember the directions to your place." you explain.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, whatever. Look there's been a monkey wrench thrown into the whole thing." Dana says, "I <i>completely</i> forgot that Shawn was going on vacation today."<br/>
<br/>
"Vacation?!" you exclaim in disbelief.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, quiet down everyone in the library can practically hear you through the phone." Dana admonishes, "Anyway yeah, vacation. Shawn's dad had a ton of saved up vacation time and decided to take his family on a trip. To Europe."<br/>
<br/>
You stare forward in complete disbelief. "To Europe..." is all you can muster.<br/>
<br/>
"France, Germany... that whole area." comes the reply. "For two weeks."<br/>
<br/>
"Two weeks?!" you exclaim again, "How did something like this just slip your mind?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know!" came the exasperated voice on the other end, "Between the shit you pulled with me with that dumb band and having to find you a body and having to sift between what's Dana and what's Caleb it just got pushed back SORRY." There's a moment of silence and then she continues talking. "Look, right now I'm in the library at the school with Christina Yves, she's doing some Asian history stuff in world history and needed my help. She's kind of a big deal around here, doesn't run things but she has fingers in all sorts of pies, so to speak, and runs with lots of different groups since she hates the whole cliquey hierarchy bullshit." she pauses giving you a moment to take it in before continuing, "She'd be great, like Alyssa on a smaller scale. I can make up some story about having a book that she'll need at my place to bring her over at which point hit her with a face full of magic mask. She's a total punk-style chick too if you're into that and also, well... I'll let you find out."<br/>
<br/>
You take a moment to process this and then tell her you'll call her back.<br/>
<br/>
"So I take it Shawn's not gonna be here?" Sarah asks.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head, "Nuh uh. Fucking two week vacation." you state. "She wants to bring over some girl named Christina Yves as a replacement though."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, Yumi, language! I've never heard you talk like that!" Sarah exclaims in fake shock, "And Christina... that could be fun but she might be a little too... I don't know what the word is.  Plus you'd have to deal with Adam Karter."<br/>
<br/>
"Adam Karter?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah nods, "Yeah, Adam is some guy who's dated pretty much half the female population of the school.  Total manwhore although he supposedly insists he's never slept with any of the girls.  Kind of an annoying twit and he likes to bother Chris a LOT." she explains, "He's like a lovestruck puppy only there's no chance of anything happening because she's... well you'll find out. Maybe."<br/>
<br/>
You cock your perfect little eyebrow at her, "What's this maybe stuff?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Wellll..." she starts, "I mentioned her before but I can get you into Carrie Carmichael hella easy. Pretty blonde queen bee type, I share a few classes with her. She's queen of the freshmen and has bigger aspirations; hangs out with a few girls in the higher grades but none of them really take her seriously." explains Sarah. "She's always trying to get me in her little group too since we were friends until like 8th grade when she started getting all snooty. But I KNOW she'll be at the mall right now and if you can give me a ride I can call her up, have her meet us and then you can take her."<br/>
<br/>
"So my choices are a girl and another girl when I originally wanted to be the handsome basketball star." you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Them's the breaks, I guess." Sarah says with a shrug.<br/>
<br/>
Them's the breaks indeed. Your a bit unhappy with how things have turned out but you do need something and these are, for the moment anyway, the most solid choices you're likely to get easily and on such short notice.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112111211
author_id: imaj
title: Why can't anything be simple?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The idea of losing a few years of age doesn’t appeal to you at all.  They were hardly the best years of your life and you doubt they would be much more enjoyable as this Carrie girl.  You thumb a simple two word text, “bring yves”, into your phone and send it on to Dana.<br/>
<br/>
The reply arrives within a minute: “kewl, c u in 15”.<br/>
<br/>
“Did you decide,” asks Sarah.  She’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, leaning on your knees.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” you reply, staring at her coolly.  She doesn’t get the hint.  “I’m going with Christina.  Dana will be here in 15 minutes with her.  I don’t want to be a kid again.  Er, no offence meant.”<br/>
<br/>
If Sarah is offended, she doesn’t show it.<br/>
<br/>
“15 minutes, huh,” she says, trying, and failing badly, to look innocent.  “There’s a lot we could do in 15 minutes, <i>Yumi</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“Knock it off,” you say, narrowing your eyes.  “If you’re going to be like this until she gets here I’m taking the mask of now.”<br/>
<br/>
You pick away at the mask, mumbling the mash of nonsense words that lets you remove it.  Breathing heavily you slump backwards from the effort.  When you come to, Sarah is leaning over you, looking into your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you ok Will,” she asks with concern.  “You know, you look quite hot like that too.  Lying there.  Just thought I’d say…”<br/>
<br/>
“Knock it off, I said.”<br/>
<br/>
She closes her eyes and puckers her lips, waiting vainly for you to respond.<br/>
<br/>
It is a long 15 minutes<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
After what seems like an age you hear the sound of a car drawing up outside and some people walking up to the front door of the Pak household.  You grab the blank mask you brought with you and move towards it, Sarah following along in your wake. Dana opens the door and enters, followed by two other girls about your age.<br/>
<br/>
“Why can’t anything be simple,” you mutter under your breath before continuing more audibly “Hi.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry,” mouths Dana, her lips hidden from the two other girls behind her.  She then speaks out loud.  “Hi, this is, uh, Will.”<br/>
<br/>
“My <i>boyfriend</i> Will,” says Sarah, quickly sneaking an arm around your waist and leaning in a little too close for comfort.  You try not to flinch.  “He’s from Westside.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s right,” grins Dana nervously.  “My sisters boyfriend.”<br/>
<br/>
The girl immediately behind Dana, raises an eyebrow knowingly and smirks.  She’s tall and slim, going on bony.  Not much of a figure, you think, but she makes up for it with an aura of confidence and poise.<br/>
<br/>
“Aren’t you going to introduce us,” she asks Dana.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh right, this is Chris…”<br/>
<br/>
“Charmed,” says the slim girl, smiling broadly.<br/>
<br/>
“…and Summer.”<br/>
<br/>
Summer, who seems to have been doing her best to hide behind Chris, mumbles a hello.  It’s hard to tell exactly because firstly, she’s very quiet, and secondly, her face is hidden behind a curtain of shiny black hair.<br/>
<br/>
“So, this book you mentioned,” says Chris, addressing Dana.<br/>
<br/>
“In my room,” she replies before bounding up the stairs.  “Come on up.”<br/>
<br/>
Chris follows Dana and Summer make to follow her in turn but Sarah grabs her arm, dragging her into the lounge.<br/>
<br/>
“So, hey, Summer,” she begins, the nervous girl barely resists.  “You want a drink or something?”<br/>
<br/>
You’re actually a little impressed.  For a pair of sex obsessed goofballs the Caleb-infused Pak girls have done a decent job of splitting up Chris and her friend.  The problem is, now that you’ve seen her, you’re not sure that Chris Yves is exactly what you want.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121112111
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: Follow Chris upstairs
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Trudging along behind Chris and Dana, you briefly glimpse Sarah giving you a goofy face and thumbs up before attending to her guest. Summer, on the other hand seems to rather be with her friend than the far too enthusiastic Sarah Pak. Not that you blame her. Caleb's anima and a 15 year old girl is a pretty goddamn unholy of an abomination to let loose. You shudder when realizing that after the next team meeting, copies of Keith may be residing inside some unfortunate girls. <br/>
<br/>
''I know it's in here <i>somewhere</i>.'', impatience begins to creep in Dana's tone. <br/>
<br/>
Chris, however, was just barely able to hide the irritation in hers. ''I can come back another time.''<br/>
<br/>
Dana looks around the room for the umpteenth time. Her gaze is wild across the room, but for a fleeting moment, it focuses on you. Urging you to get a move on. ''<i>Now</i> will be a good time.'', she says in exasperation after you don't even flinch. She rummages another corner , re-digging the rubbles of books and tinkers again.<br/>
<br/>
The irritation in Chris Yves' face is clearly seen now. Mixed with annoyance, it makes her rather less and less attractive for the taking. Exhausted of all small talk topics that you, Chris and Dana contributes, including you dodging the question about the mask that is in your clutches, the cheerful-treasure-hunting/seeking, becomes an extremely awkward situation.<br/>
<br/>
Chris may be a platform for you to scout future bodies in Eastman, but that doesn't mean you can't do it as Dana. In fact, it may just be a way for the gang to convene together without looking weird. You are sure Keith will somehow have need of Yumi Saito, whatever his needs may be. That leaves Caleb to take someone from Keyserling, or even staying as Audrey Blackwell. The sight of you three together in public may raise a few eyebrows, but a plausible option to tread forward. <br/>
<br/>
Fairly easy to arrange the swap as well. Drawing Dana away for a few seconds, you can take the anima band off her and slap it on Chris Yves. The next part is to make a mask of Dana using the blank mask and putting the real Dana under Yumi's mask and sends her back to Keith. The plan though entails enduring at least a good measure of togetherness with a Caleb infused Sarah Pak. Something you don't really look forward to at the moment.<br/>
<br/>
The alternative is to go with the original plan. Chris is never going to be a permanent place. Her life doesn't sound really exciting, if anything, it sounds exhausting. The 'maybe's the Pak sisters leave you hanging with is also no encouragement. But you risk pissing off the Caleb infused Dana Pak if you don't. <br/>
<br/>
Glancing at the two girls you make your decision swiftly...<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211121111
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: Become Dana instead
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>''Dana...'' you call out to the frenzied girl. She stops and turns to look at you. The murderous glare she failed to suppress makes you wince. Much to your relief, Chris Yves suddenly find her mobile phone very interesting. A subtle suggestion that she really ought to be somewhere else at the moment, but too polite to mention anything.<br/>
<br/>
''That book....,'' you let your voice trail off to attract Chris' attention. Out of the corner of your eyes, she perks up at the slightest chance of relieving her agonising wait. Quickly you give Dana the 'private-talk-time' look and pray that the Caleb bit in her mind catches on. ''The one with something like flowers stuffs and origami on the cover?'' You pause for a bit. ''I think I saw it in your parents' bedroom.''<br/>
<br/>
''Ohmigod, Will! Why didn't you say anything?'' Dana exclaims. You breathe a sigh of relief. ''But how'd you know it's there?'' The voice and the tone is Dana's, but the sentence is definitely Caleb teasing you. A payback.<br/>
<br/>
''Uh... I was with... Sarah...'' you stutter. An apologetic smile creep up on Chris' face, at least she's being sympathetic of your predicament. ''Uh... we were...''<br/>
<br/>
''Stop.'' Dana holds out a hand. ''I'm not even sure I want to know what you did to Sarah.''<br/>
<br/>
Turning to Chris, she grabs her by the elbow and gently jerks her. ''Come on.''<br/>
<br/>
With just one free arm flailing as Dana half-drag her to the door, Chris isn't in a position to defend herself from you as you slap Yumi's golemised mask on her face.<br/>
<br/>
''About fucking time too,'' Dana curses.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
Chris's clothes drapes loosely over Yumi's much smaller frame, but you don't bother to tell the golem to strip herself. If the Caleb infused Dana agrees to your plan, then there won't be a need to.<br/>
<br/>
''So, wait.'' Dana blinks. ''You want me to be in Chris.'' She motions to the golem.<br/>
<br/>
''Yeah...'' you say slowly. Somehow this Caleb's IQ has taken the plunge, took you three tries to explain the plan. ''So I need to take that anima band off you.'' You reach to Dana's forehead to peel it away, but to your surprise, she bats your hands away and backs away from you.<br/>
<br/>
''Wha-?''<br/>
<br/>
''Can't you just follow through with our plan?'' Dana's breath is ragged and she seems to eye the door nervously.<br/>
<br/>
''Caleb, the plan is to find me someone I want in Eastman, remember.'' You emphasize your friend's name. ''I don't want her.'' Youu motion to the golem. ''So I'll put you in Chris, go as Dana and scout the place.''<br/>
<br/>
''I don't know Will.'' She looks at you and the golem, unsure on what to do. ''I just feel something really bad will happen if you mess with it.''<br/>
<br/>
''Caleb.'' You hold Dana's squirming shoulders and gaze into her eyes, trying to appeal for trust and everything you have built with the original Caleb over the weeks and further. ''I'll get you a new place. I promise.''<br/>
<br/>
A pregnant silence follows and for a few seconds that seems like an eternity, you fear that the Caleb-infused Dana is about to bolt out the door and never come back. ''Could've just told me you want to get in here.'' She manages a weak smirk and points to her crotch.<br/>
<br/>
''Uh, not like that,'' you say nervously.<br/>
<br/>
Dana let out a nervous laugh. ''Let's just get this over with.''<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
''If you want to get to anyone at Eastman fast, you want Alyssa,'' Chris Yves says. She whips out her mobile phone and scrolls through her impressive contacts. You blink; somehow you are sure that you had this conversation before. ''She's plugged in everyplace, and she's the head cheerleader too.''<br/>
<br/>
''Yeah, I know. You've told me before.'' You say, trying to end the deja vu.<br/>
<br/>
''Really?'' She looks at you in suspicion.<br/>
<br/>
''Don't you remember? You were in Dana for a week or so...'' Your voice trail off. Is this another feature of the anima band?<br/>
<br/>
Chris just shakes her head. <br/>
<br/>
''There's another you in Sarah, and the original is beingn Aubrey Blackwell." You inflect your tone upwards as if it could help the anima Caleb to remember his adventure as Dana Pak.<br/>
<br/>
Still she shakes her head, although a look of deep contemplation has settled on her visage. ''I can remember the discussion... nothing after that.'' <br/>
<br/>
You then proceed to explain about your plan again, making a mental note never to move these bands around too much. It is exhausting and despite Chris' friendly disposition towards everyone and Caleb's positive state of mind about your partnerships you still find yourself justifying moving the anima band into Chris. The Caleb infusion is less than thrilled to be dipped inside Chris Yves for various reasons. <br/>
<br/>
''I suppose the me in Dana knew about what he was talking about,'' Chris shrugs. Finally the Caleb anima in her is able to accept your explanation. ''Girl got contacts.'' She pauses and looks at you, ''But I'd told you to slap a golem mask on her.''<br/>
<br/>
''So... any suggestions?'', you ask.<br/>
<br/>
''Since you're already like that,'' she points at your current form of Dana Pak, ''best leave it until Monday. I need to get back anyway.'' There is a sly grin, ''Unless you want to, you know....'', she leaves the sentence hanging, waiting for realisation to hit you.<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. ''Don't forget we have that team meeting.''<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div> <br/>
''Come on, Summer.'' Chris beckons to Summer who seems to be much relieved at being freed from the overly excited Sarah Pak. <br/>
<br/>
''I'm really sorry,'' you say apologetically as you see Chris and Summer off from the porch of the Pak residence.<br/>
<br/>
''It's alright,' 'Chris suddenly looking much more chipper. ''Just give me a call if you find it.'' She gives Sarah a wink before driving away.<br/>
<br/>
Thankfully, before the Caleb infused Sarah is able to pull anything, a black Mercedes make its way to the driveway, followed by a silver SUV not far behind.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
Shower was definitely an interesting experience, but as you lay in bed caressing your body through the silky nightgown draped over your frame and lamenting your modest bosom, not really unlike the <i>real</i> Dana, you discover something rather disconcerting.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112111211112
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: Keith's Problem
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb and Keith are already halfway over a large pepperoni pizza by the time you arrive with Sarah and Chris in tow.<br/>
<br/>
''Way to go Will!'', Keith wolf-whistle ''Bring in the girls!''<br/>
<br/>
Sarah immediately makes herself comfortable around your friends, who should've been total strangers to her. She plops herself on the spare seat beside Caleb and helps herself on a slice of the pizza. ''I'm so starving.''<br/>
<br/>
''Please don't tell me both of you are golems.'', you sigh, drawing another chair to the group.<br/>
<br/>
Keith and Caleb share a glance. ''Maybe... or I could be inside Cindy right now.'', Keith quips ''If you know what I mean.''<br/>
<br/>
You shoot him Dana's best I-am-not-amused look but it doesn't seem to do anything except making Sarah giggle.<br/>
<br/>
''No dude, it's us.'', Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
''Good.'', you brandish three anima bands that you intended to give to Keith, but before that, you better brief everyone about something you found out yesterday. Filling in Keith would probably be the biggest challenge of them all.<br/>
<br/>
***<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
''Why didn't you tell me about these anime stuff?'', Keith exclaims. Just like Caleb when he was enlightened over the existence of anima bands, mistrust begins to crystallise on Keith's mind.<br/>
<br/>
''Because you're an idiot.'', you sigh again. ''And it's anima not anime.''<br/>
<br/>
''Well, whatever.'', Keith pauses, ''Should've got an easier time in Westside with these stuffs.'' Absentmindedly, his thumb swipes over the bands with his name emblazoned in bright red letterings.<br/>
<br/>
''Didn't you hear what I said?'', you say in frustration. ''These... '', you hesitate to find a word to describe the beings inside an anima band, but not finding anything in the English language that can incite understanding in Keith's mind, you hurry to finish your sentence,'' aren't your slave.''<br/>
<br/>
''Yeah, so?'', Keith mumbles .''They're me and I know what I want.'', he finishes with a smirk before pocketing the bands.<br/>
<br/>
You don't have anything else to say to that. If he thinks he can handle it, then let him. Meanwhile, Caleb is back from his own little Caleb group to verify what you had just said. ''The me in her apparently is not happy with his new life.'' Caleb says as he returns to the discussion table. ''Oy!'', he calls out. Then a few moments later, Blackwell emerges. There's a look of contempt in his eyes which you ignore. ''Clean this up, chop chop.''<br/>
<br/>
The golem grumbles, but unable to resist its master's command knelt down and in one sweep, whisks the cups, half full bottle of soda and an empty pizza box away. You have an inkling that it tries to dawdle, to try eavesdropping about whatever the group is discussing.<br/>
<br/>
''You know that means we'll be unleashing a Chris Yves that has recollection of whatever has happened these last few days.'', you speak again after you are certain that Blackwell is outside earshot.That last night, aside from pulling the pleasant memories of people Dana has shared a bed with (quite a number really), you were hit with a memory of Dana talking with Yumi. It doesn't make it less a bizzare sight from being Yumi talking and watching your cousin plays with her pussy, to as Dana, talking to your cousin while playing with your pussy. Then the kiss with Sarah. It definitely cut short the session.<br/>
<br/>
''Put me, or rather, her under a mask then.''. Chris snaps. ''Look, I know I promised to look for a suitable body for you, but Chris Yves got a really sucky life.''<br/>
<br/>
You look at Caleb, trying to analyse whatever idea he can come up with about the the issue. He just look at you with the same stare pondering at this predicament. It is a risky gamble, knowing that the Caleb inside might 'rebel' if not let out.<br/>
<br/>
''Do you want out too?'' you turn to Sarah.<br/>
<br/>
''Hell no.'', she cups her budding bosom. ''Plus, we haven't spent much time together sis'', she grins.<br/>
<br/>
''I'll let you guys decide, after all, you're all Caleb '', you end the discussion there and then.<br/>
<br/>
***<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
''Will!'', Keith runs up to you just as you are about to get the motor running.<br/>
<br/>
''It's Dana '', you say unempathically.<br/>
<br/>
''Whatever, no one's around anyway '', he pauses. ''You got to help me dude.''<br/>
<br/>
''Not here.'', you glance at Sarah and Chris from the rearview mirror. Although they are both occupied with each other, you don't want to expose this Chris into more events that has any involvements with the Book.<br/>
<br/>
The two of you walk away from the car, the awkward silence only stops when you turn around to face Keith.<br/>
<br/>
''Seth is after me'', he wails.<br/>
<br/>
''What?''<br/>
<br/>
''I put on Cindy's mask and called him to meet up, so I can get a copy of him, you know.''<br/>
<br/>
You nod, urging him to go on.<br/>
<br/>
''But turns out Cindy was there with him and somehow, he knows it was me!'', he then rambles on about the implications on him. Two of such includes a lifetime of pain and humiliation.<br/>
<br/>
Way to fuck it up Keith! You groan at the news. It's bad enough that you have the Caleb-Chris problem to contend with, but here's Keith basically sprawling for help. ''That means I just copied three chickened out version of you! A fat lot of use they are!'' you mutter, letting Dana's persona slips away from you. ''I'll give Yumi a call and you can slap it on her.'', you pauses, to regain your breath,'' Then she can get you Cindy or Seth.''<br/>
<br/>
''Come on dude.'' Keith pleads. ''Just help me get Seth and I'll leave you alone.'' There's no hint of cockiness and confidence in his tone that was prevalent just days ago.<br/>
<br/>
''I got you Cindy for fuck's sake. Go sleep with him or something.''<br/>
<br/>
Keith seems to blush at the suggestion, but he doesn't say anything...</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121112111121
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: Student President for Keith
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Keith and Caleb had made up a new mask of you, of course, so as to put a golem in your place at Westside. Keith was supposed to golemize it and put it under his control, but he hasn't gotten around to that yet. So you're able to get up to speed on what's been happening at school by donning it briefly and retrieving its memories. <br/>
<br/>
Going back to Westside is definitely an interesting experience. As a bottom feeder, you don't really have any significant expectation except that some people absolutely refuses to touch you with a bargepole. On the plus side, Lester and Brown stays away from you, leaving Pozniak alone in his deed.<br/>
<br/>
''Hey'', you wave at Yumi as she made her way towards you.<br/>
<br/>
''Stay away from me you creep'', she shudders slightly when she passes by. You wonder if the spell's effect on her is amplified because she suddenly lost so many days after giving you a lift.<br/>
<br/>
''Did you see that?'', you pull out to the locker that you shared with Caleb. With the real Caleb taking over the university, and you going to Eastman, the locker is given to the golems to keep warm. Maintenance has been quite heavy and there were at least a couple of threats kindly slipped between the cracks. <br/>
<br/>
Caleb just shrugs,''No one wants to catch Prescott-itis.'', before breaking into a grin.<br/>
<br/>
''Fuck you''.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Keith practically clings on to you throughout the day. Sometimes, you think, even in a closer proximity than the curse itself. Seth must've really scared the guy out of his wits and you or rather, your curse is the only thing that stands between him and a certain pain. <br/>
<br/>
''Hey Kim, do you think we can get together to talk?'', you catch Kim Walsh off-guard arranging things in her locker during lunch break. Her friend, Tina-something turns to look at you in distaste and walks away, ''Yeah, nice to meet you too!'', you call out after her.<br/>
<br/>
You turn your attention back to Kim. ''Keith's... having some trouble with uh, Javits'', you notice him shifting uncomfortably beside you. ''He says it's all my fault.''<br/>
<br/>
Kim looks at you, then Keith, '' Will, we've talked about this before. There's nothing wrong with you.'' The bills apparently didn't circulate too widely. ''But, sure. That coffee shop by city library?''. Kim Walsh has a busy school life and supplements it with extracurricular activities, which includes reading to children in the evening.<br/>
<br/>
''Thanks.'', Keith blurts out. <br/>
<br/>
''You see dude? Kim'll sort this out.'', Kim dimples at that compliment and after exchanging some small talks on the school's Halloween party on the weekend, the three of you parts way.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the day passes in a flash as half of the people you know shudders when they see you, while the other half are still puzzled how loathed you have become. You let it slide. It's not for the long term anyway. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Kim adjusts the rear-view mirror of her compact car. A second-hand 5 year old green KIA, it is not an impressive sight. Although Kim seems to be content that it is able to get her from A to B. She twists the mirror and briefly it reflects Keith who is sitting at the back and you in the passenger seat. <br/>
<br/>
''You ready to go?'', you ask.<br/>
<br/>
''Just give me a minute'', Kim dimples at you. She then spend the full 60 seconds running her hands over her torso and giving her pear shaped breasts a good fondle. <br/>
<br/>
“I just don’t know how I get through the day without playing with these puppies,” her lips curl into a half-smile. “I guess whoever called them fun bags had it right on the money.”<br/>
<br/>
You let out a soundless groan which is not lost on Kim.<br/>
<br/>
''I know. Got to stop Javits from whipping his ass'', she jerks her head slightly backwards. ''then a new cover... and maybe, something more'', she grins enigmatically. You wonder if you have just created another abomination. <br/>
<br/>
Getting Kim under a mask is a tall order, so you decide on the next best thing. Slapping Keith's anima band on her. You wonder if it is the right choice, considering what happened to the Caleb-Chris infusion that seemed wanted nothing to do with it's body. <i>50-50</i> you thought and went with the plan. There's a part of your mind that is curious on the cause of the variance in behaviour these anima band infused people are exhibiting, but you don't say anything as Kim starts the engine and drives away from the coffee shop.<br/>
<br/>
''So... who have you got in mind?'', Kim says.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211121111211
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: Garnering Support
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>''She can be a right cunt, can't she?, Kim smirks when you settle down beside her. Your face, a shade of red, still flushing from the high intensity drill, has beads of sweat trickling down from your temples. You just nod, reaching inside Yumi's bag to fish out that bottle of water you know is there. Sitting with your back against the seat, there's a pronounced wetness from the cheerleader outfit you are wearing.<br/>
<br/>
Just across, you see Chelsea Cooper herself and Coach Tesla perch on the row of seats, overlooking the gym floor. Chelsea is wearing her cheerleader uniform, but isn't keen to join the others, instead she spent half her time crowing to the Coach and the other half, yelling to the fatigued and tired band of cheerleaders. Occasionally coming down only to berate and belittle what she thinks is sub-par performance. <br/>
<br/>
''Yo, girls!'' Keith sniggers as he seats himself a row behind. ''Don't look up, Seth's there.''<br/>
<br/>
Just as usual, the cheerleaders' practice are open to the privileged few, except for certain days where Chelsea made sure that everything executed will be perfect. With previleged few meaning the prominent figures in the school and their friends, as well as the girls' boyfriends and occasionally, ex-es. ''Who's that?'' Keith motions with his eyes. God help him if he so much as point to a random figure from among the masses that attends the practice today.<br/>
<br/>
''Which one?'' Kim squints, trying to locate the figure that has caught Keith's eyes is an arduous task.<br/>
<br/>
''The one with big tits.'' Keith sniggers again.<br/>
<br/>
''You've got to be more specific than that!'' Kim exclaims silently.<br/>
<br/>
Taking another sip of water, you help Kim on her search. Any girl present there could've caught Keith's eyes one way or another. <br/>
<br/>
''That blonde one, short hair.'', Keith finally reveals another clue to their mystery girl.<br/>
<br/>
''Oh that.'', Kim mutters,'' That's Sienna Goldman.'' She then continues, her attitude shifts to the Kim everyone knows, the student president connected to all groups within the school, across hierarchy and boundary. She rambles on and on about the target's biography, ''Friends with Andrea Varnsworth.'' she ends the description, as though she knows that the last bit of information is of interest to Keith Tilley.<br/>
<br/>
''That Andrea Varnsworth?'' Keith says eagerly.<br/>
<br/>
''<i>That</i> Andrea Varnsworth.'' Kim affirms.<br/>
<br/>
Keith rubs his hands with glee.<br/>
<br/>
''Varnsworth now?'', you sigh.<br/>
<br/>
''No, no.'', Keith says dreamily. ''Stick to the plan, I'll get her one way or another.''<br/>
<br/>
''Yumi!'', you hear Chelsea shouting from the floor. All the other cheerleaders are already huddled around a small spot, their faces filled with dread and fatigue. Team talk time, and as if cued, the crowd starts dissipating. It's a traditional routine under Chelsea, she insisted to Coach Tesla that team talks should be held private for some random benevolent reason, which the Coach agrees to. Although to be honest, Chelsea is the de facto ruler of the cheerleader squad and Coach Tesla just agrees with whatever she says. The private team talk, really, is just an opportunity for Chelsea to further grill and undermine her underlings.<br/>
<br/>
''Got to bail!'' Keith scampers, while out of the corner of your eyes, you spot Seth has already make his way halfway to where Keith is seated. He must've growled before returning to his seat.<br/>
<br/>
Kim gets up as well and heads to fulfill her tasks as student president elsewhere.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea waves at you, her iPhone in her clutches. As if savouring the dread on your face, Yumi's dread, waves the phone energetically, whilst beckoning you to come. Impulsively, you reach inside the kit bag and take out a brush and a mirror, practically scrambling to sort out your hair. <br/>
<br/>
''Yumi!'' Chelsea calls out again, you look up and see the other cheerleaders including herself huddling to form a row, whilst the phone is now with Coach Tesla. <br/>
<br/>
You mutter a curse or two in Japanese but drops your brush and mirror back inside and resign yourself to fate.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Chelsea has a special way to screw everyone over. That is the lesson of the day, and is a continual learning process for the entire squad.<br/>
<br/>
Taking off your wet top to reveal an equally drenched sports bra, slowly, you look up and glancing around the changing room, you see other girls doing the same thing. You struggle to keep Yumi's persona over your own. For Yumi Saito, the sight of more than half a dozen half naked cheerleaders glistening with sweat is business as usual and certainly, she doesn't get turned on from the sight of her own perky, modest bosom. However, you allow yourself to greedily drink in the sight, purely for research purposes. <br/>
<br/>
''That bitch!'', Jessica squeals, which draws the attention of Lin Pol, Eva Garner and of course yourself. She points to her iPhone screen and there it is, the shots the squad just took. There're no other shots except that one, nothing that screams out that Chelsea is just loitering around and sitting out the practice. Short wonder she can still look so bright and vibrant without breaking a bead of sweat on her while the other cheerleaders look like crap.<br/>
<br/>
There's a caption 'WORKING HARD 4 CUP FINAL!!!' and she tagged the social media profile of all the girls involved. You see a few comments and 'likes' creeping steadily on her profile. A few snide-ish remark from people you don't know but majority of the comment compliments the squad, but especially Chelsea's appearance. Lin frowns, while Eva just walks away in disgusts. <br/>
<br/>
Kendra looks at your small group coolly, but the photo must've irritated her as much as it does to anyone, maybe except for Maria. The poor girl seems to be unfazed or perhaps unable to comprehend the situation. She just stares ahead at her locker with that distinctive blank look plastered on her face. Poor Maria.<br/>
<br/>
One by one, the cheerleaders file into the shower cubicles just adjacent to the changing room. Acting nonchalant, you fiddle with your bag though except the anima band with Keith's name emblazoned in fiery red letters, there isn't anything remotely interesting to you. So you quickly slip it between a towel and the change of clothes Yumi Saito has kindly prepared just this morning and troop in behind Eva.<br/>
<br/>
Considering the differences in height you probably will need to make some well thought decisions....</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112111211112111
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: Sealing the Deal
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You let yourself immerse in the warm shower induced pleasure, getting re-acquintanced with the petite form of Yumi Saito. Maybe it was the photo, but her emotion is somewhat in turmoil or it might be your own, seeping inside Yumi as you ponder upon the tall order that Keith has put before you. Right now, you should've been inside an Eastman student, scoping out the school, probably making notes here and there for your next acquisition. Then at the end of the week, reap the rewards. You groan, as the thought of Chris's fiasco enters your mind, unbidden. <br/>
<br/>
You settle on singling a cheerleader and at the right moment, slapping the band on her. Unlike Caleb's and his exquisite taste, Keith's anima will probably take anything with a pussy and pair of breasts in a heartbeat.  Maybe it's worth taking Maria to one side and with some luck, she might just put the anima band on herself! Or fell on it! Your chuckle is muffled by the sound of water. <br/>
<br/>
Two soft knocks rapping on the cubicle door brings you back to reality. Brows furrowed, you take a step closer to the source of the sound. The sound of water then fills the entire room again, before you hear another two knocks, this time shaper and louder. You turn off the tap and slowly open the door, peering from the gap to see Michelle Estrich standing there with towel covering her body. Her nervous disposition always makes her looks like that she is about to get caught doing something criminal. <br/>
<br/>
''Yumi...'' Michelle corrects herself, ''I mean, Will... Let me in.''<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Your puzzlement is cut short as you heard the stall next to yours unlatching. Without thinking, you pull Michelle into your cubicle, slam the door shut and turn on the shower again. You hear the creaking sound of a door opening. The sound of water then dominates the room again, before the same creaking sound is heard again and the door slams shut.<br/>
<br/>
''Well?'', you prompt Michelle who has been ogling your moist form. ''What's going on?''<br/>
<br/>
''Uh...yeah...''. she mumbles, ''I thought I'll help you out, you know...'' It's Keith alright. <br/>
<br/>
''Why Michelle?'', you point at her. With a larger frame than other girls in the squad, a plain face and always being the base of the pyramid, she's the cheerleader that everyone forgets. Not exactly a voluptuous one either, so that confirms your earlier theory.<br/>
<br/>
''I'll tell you later.'', she tries conveying the sentence enigmatically, but it comes out as if she's trying to weasel her way out of telling you. You tell her to turn the shower off while you drape a towel over yourself. <br/>
<br/>
''So, was that a golem then?'', you refer to the Keith you talked to earlier.<br/>
<br/>
''Yeah,'' Michelle confesses. She puts her hand on her temple, but you stop her dead on her track.<br/>
<br/>
''No.'', you whisper. You don't want anyone to catch Keith here should something goes wrong.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
''It's Michelle, she wants to tell you something.'', you say to Eva Garner who is clearly struggling to hide her irritation.<br/>
<br/>
''Let me finish and you can tell me later.'', she says, trying to cut off the conversation short and return to scrubbing her body.<br/>
<br/>
''It's about Chelsea.'', you drop the sentence that finally gets her curiousity, ''and our plan.'' and with that, you effectively have her attention. You shift around, trying to look nervous as if Chelsea herself would burst into the room any moment and catches the three of you. Michelle probably does it better, although for entirely different reason. <br/>
<br/>
Eva hesitates for a moment, ''See you tonight then...''</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121112112
author_id: imaj
title: Wait downstairs
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wander back into the lounge of the Pak household, having made up your mind.  If you are going to be stuck as one of the girls of Eastman High, you’d rather be one with a better figure that Chris Yves.  Personality is overrated you think.  Or at least it’s overrated when you have a bunch of magical masks.<br/>
<br/>
Summer is sitting on one of the sofas, her hands clasped between her legs and looking alertly from side to side.  Sarah looks at you quizzically as you come in.  She frowns for a moment before walking briskly over to you and grabbing the blank mask from your unresisting hands.<br/>
<br/>
Summer barely has time to squeal before she slams it onto her face.<br/>
<br/>
“The fuck,” you mutter darkly.<br/>
<br/>
“You came in here for a reason, didn’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Changed my mind about Chris, but that doesn’t mean that I wanted stuck in miss jump at her own shadow here.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh relax,” she says, waving her hand dismissively.  “It’s actually better this way.  Summer’s pretty close to Alyssa.  Now help me get her clothes off while she’s out of it.”<br/>
<br/>
“How does a mouse like this,” you begin, carefully removing Summer’s baggy black hoodie from her slumbering form.  "End up friends with the queen of the school?”<br/>
<br/>
“Eastman is different from Westside, remember,” answers Sarah.  She lifts Summer’s unresisting arms up and pulls off the plain white tee she had on underneath.  “And Alyssa is definitely different from Chelsea.”<br/>
<br/>
You pause to look at Summer’s near naked torso.  Underneath those shapeless clothes she’s actually a little curvy.  Petite, but curvy.  Her golden skin is perhaps a shade lighter than Sarah’s.  You fumble with the clasp of her lacy black bra.<br/>
<br/>
“Pink ribbons on her underwear,” snorts Sarah.  “Really?”<br/>
<br/>
“It matches the stripes on her tights,” you reply sarcastically, gesturing at Summer’s legs.  Look, would you knock that off.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry,” says Sarah, guiltily removing a hand from one of Summer’s perky breasts  before helping you pull down Summer’s black denim short skirt.  There is a light tinkle as he mask emerges from here face and falls to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
“Get the last of those off and put on the golem mask,” you order Sarah as you begin removing your own clothing.  “And I had a tub of sealant mixture somewhere too”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah hurries backwards and forwards before bringing you the tub.  It is a moments work to seal the mask, making it ready to wear.  With the last of your clothes removed, and with a replacement Will stirring on the sofa in front of you, you bring the mask to your face.<br/>
<div align="center"><br/>
*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Oh my god!  Oh my god!  Oh my god!  The panic runs through your thoughts wildly.  Why was it dark suddenly?  And why are you naked?  And where did that creepy guy go?  Maybe he’s something to do with this.  What was his name again?<br/>
<br/>
Will.<br/>
<br/>
You grasp at the name.  Your name, and with it banish Summer’s panic attack, putting her personality to one side in your mind where it cowers abjectly.  You resist the urge to sneer, but only because a sneer would look ugly on this pretty face.<br/>
<br/>
You examine yourself closely in the mirror above the fireplace.  Turning first one way, then the other.  Summer’s exotically slanted eyes sparkle back at you through the thick eyeliner she wears.  Her nose, delicate, her mouth small.  With a shake of your new head you bring the curtain of hair back in front of Summer’s face.  A pity, you think, as Summer would be quite pretty if she didn’t spend her time trying to hide herself.  That’s something you can change later.<br/>
<br/>
“Put the clothes back on,” hisses Sarah besides you, bringing you back to earth with a bump.<br/>
<br/>
You hurriedly put Summer’s clothes back on.  First the black panties and bra with their pink ribbons.  The stripy tights, the skirt, the tee and finally the hoodie.  Just in time as Chris bounds back into the room.  You let a mask of Summer-nervousness slip across your face.  The Summer within you seems almost pathetically grateful.<br/>
<br/>
“Um, did you get your book Chris,” you ask, oh so politely.<br/>
<br/>
“No,” replies Chris.  For a moment she looks angry, but then just as suddenly she is smiling again.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry about the book,” says Dana, entering the room behind her.  “I guess my Mom must have moved it.  I’ll ask her about it and get it for you tomorrow.  Or something.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t worry about it.  Sorry to run out on you like this, but me and Summer have other stuff to do.  You coming Summer?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” you reply meekly, following Chris out the door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Chris’ car turns out, in fact, to be a beat up old van.  You can’t really tell which of the three colours it sports it was originally, probably the dark red since there is more of it.  It’s seen better days.  And probably better years, if not decades.  It is, however, a little stray fragment of Summer memory tells you, ideal for moving Chris’ band’s gear around you.<br/>
<br/>
“Ughh,” sighs Chris as you strap yourself into the passenger seat.  “What a waste of time.  We still got enough time to head back to my place for a little while.  If you still want to that is?”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211121121
author_id: imaj
title: The Summer of Love
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“You want anything to drink,” calls Chris from inside the house.<br/>
<br/>
The garage is stuffed full of old cardboard boxes and shelving piled high with random objects.  Tool boxes vie with old magazines for space.  Judging by the dust, most of it hasn’t been disturbed for quite some time.<br/>
<br/>
Most of it.  Chris has turned the garage into a practice area for her band.  Amps and instrument stands are scattered round the centre of the garage although the only actual instrument present is Chris’ guitar.  Five brightly coloured bean bags lie on the floor beside a worn out old rug.<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you call back, sinking into the red one.  It is extremely comfortable.<br/>
<br/>
You lie back, staring at the ceiling.  It is covered in posters.  Bands that neither you, nor Summer’s memories, recognise.  Suddenly your view is blocked as Chris leans over you, smiling broadly.<br/>
<br/>
Having actually spent some time with her, you’ve found yourself warming to Chris more.  She seems genuinely nice and has an aura of cheerful confidence that has dragged you along in her wake.  You’re not sure if it’s because of her personality, or some facet of being Summer, but Chris somehow, indefinably, seems more attractive now.<br/>
<br/>
You almost regret not using the mask on her earlier<br/>
<br/>
“No space on the walls,” she says, interrupting your chain of thought.<br/>
<br/>
“What,” you blurt.<br/>
<br/>
“No space on the walls,” she repeats, dragging one the bean bags over to beside your one.  She flops down in it before continuing.  “My folks crap is piled high everywhere here, so I put the posters on the ceiling.  I think it’s kinda relaxing to lie back and look up at them.”<br/>
<br/>
“So,” you ask, biting your lip.  “Are they like influences or something?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” she sighs happily.  “The people me and the guys respect, really”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t recognise any of them.  Who are the Ramones?”<br/>
<br/>
Chris turns on her side, leaning on her elbow.  You do the same, facing here.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh my god,” she says with an expression of mock solemnity on her face.  “Thank God I got to you in time.”<br/>
<br/>
“Um…” is all you can manage.  You’re pretty sure you have a deer caught in headlight expression plastered all over your face.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m just teasing,” says Chris, her expression cracking, giving way to a broad grin.  “You look adorable like that, you know”<br/>
<br/>
“Stop that,” you say, blushing furiously.  You swat at her ineffectually with your free arm.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry,  I’m sorry,” she manages before descending into a fit of giggles.  You can’t help but join her and the two of you lie there for a minute consumed by laughter before Chris finally regains enough composure to continue.  “If you’d like I could put a couple of songs of theirs on.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think I’d like that,” you reply.<br/>
<br/>
Chris gets up from her bean bag and walks over to an IPod dock, fiddling about with it for a moment before returning to beside you.  She stares into your eyes, here face barely a foot from your own.<br/>
<br/>
“You like,” she asks softly.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s kinda cool,” you reply.<br/>
<br/>
You both lie there in silence for a moment, listening.  Chris gently brushes your hair away from your face with one hand.  You smile, she smiles back and then she leans forward and kisses you on the lips.<br/>
<br/>
Well, that explains a lot, you think to yourself as you push the limp façade of Summer’s personality to one side inside your mind.  No wonder Dana was so keen for you to make a mask of Chris, especially if Summer is typical of Chris’ taste in girls.  You’ll need to have a sharp word with her tomorrow, and possibly get that anima strip out of her and her sister if you have the chance.  You immerse yourself back into Summer’s persona and jerk nervously back from Chris.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry, I thought that we could…” she tails off.<br/>
<br/>
“No it’s just I,” you reply, rushing your words together in Summer-nervousness.  “Um…  I mean…  It’s just that…  Um…  I’ve…  I’ve never…  Um…  Never been with another girl before.”<br/>
<br/>
Never been with a boy before either, you can’t help but sneer inside your head.  From her memories, Summer does genuinely seem interested in Chris but, unsurprisingly, she is insecure about her own sexuality.  Chris, now that you are going through Summer’s memories in more details, is the exact opposite:  Open and outgoing in her preferences.  In other words she is almost everything that Summer is not and wishes she could be.<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe I was too forward,” says Chris, pulling back.<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you almost screech, reaching out and grabbing her arm.  It’s a most un-Summerlike action, but you figure that it’s what she wants, even if it’s not what she would do.  “I like you Chris, I mean I really like you.  Please…”<br/>
<br/>
She interrupts you by kissing you again, long and slow.<br/>
<br/>
“My folks are out for a couple of hours yet,” she grins wolfishly after breaking the kiss.  “We could have some fun.”<br/>
<br/>
You roll off your bean bag and onto Chris.<br/>
<br/>
“I think I’d like that.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You’re lying snuggled up naked with Chris, your legs entwined with hers, your head resting on her chest, basking silently in the afterglow of the last couple of hours.  Maybe you were a bit hasty to judge Dana for bringing these two to you.  You make a mental note to thank her tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
Still you can’t hang around here all night.  You sink into Summer’s persona.  She is intoxicatingly happy.<br/>
<br/>
“So, um…” you begin, breaking the silence and looking up at Chris.  “Are we, like, an item now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh Summer,” Chris laughs.  “You are so adorable some times.  I could eat you right up”<br/>
<br/>
Again, you think.  Chris has a talented mouth and missed her calling as a guitarist – she should really be playing a wind instrument.  You keep the thought to yourself because it’s a Will thought and not a Summer thought.  Instead you blush furiously.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re a pretty and intelligent girl Summer.  I’d sing from the rooftops about how lucky  I am to have met you.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s a yes, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course it is,” Chris replies, kissing you on the forehead.  “Oh crap, look at the time.  My folks will be back soon.”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh oh,” you say, looking at the clock.  “My Dad’s going to be mad.  I need to get home.”<br/>
<br/>
You leap up and start scavenging around the floor, looking for your discarded clothes, hurriedly getting dressed as you find each item.  After a minute, Chris helps you, eventually brushing your hair back into some semblance of its shape with her hands.<br/>
<br/>
“Until tomorrow,” she says, kissing you goodbye.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“Who are you and what have you done with Summer?”<br/>
<br/>
With a yelp you drop the books you had been getting out of Summer’s locker to the floor.  You jerk round to face your accuser, an African-American girl in a cheerleader’s uniform.  Alyssa Randall, Summer’s memories tell you.<br/>
<br/>
“Wh.Wh..What…” you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh relax girl,” Alyssa says.  She smiles revealing a row of gleaming perfect white teeth.  “I just don’t think I’ve seen you this happy, well, ever.”<br/>
<br/>
For a brief moment, you think you let the veneer of Summer’s personality that you can drape over yourself to mimic her perfectly slip away without thinking.  You check that it’s still in place.  Summer is uncharacteristically happy, and you’ve let that slip in front of the girl who’s clique is known informally in Eastman as the Rumoratti.<br/>
<br/>
Luckily for you, Alyssa is Summer’s best friend.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s nothing Alyssa,” you reply, looking furtively from side.  Unfortunately, Summer is really bad at lying.<br/>
<br/>
“Sure don’t look like nothing,” says Alyssa looking at you carefully. “Natalie tells me she spotted you and Chris Yves at the library with Dana Pak yesterday.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh that was nothing,” you say just a little too quickly.  “Dana was giving Chris some help in a class and thought she had a book at her house that would've helped Chris but she couldn't find it.  Then I went to hang out with Chris for a bit.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh.  My.  God,” she squees.  “Did you and Chris...”<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa leaves the question hanging in the air unasked.  You blush intensely, giving her all the answer she needs.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s great news,” she says, hugging you warmly.  “You and Chris will be great together.  I gotta run to class right now but you can fill me in on all the dirty details at lunchtime girl.”<br/>
<br/>
And with that, Alyssa bounds off down the corridor, leaving you to ponder how much different that would have been with Chelsea Cooper at Westside.  Eastman <i>is</i> a very different place.  The question is, do you want to upset things by taking over? <br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211121122
author_id: rugal
title: "I'd better get home. Sorry."
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You shake your head. "I can't..." you begin trying to think of a good excuse to use. "There's stuff I need to do. My brother's got this Taekwondo thing going on to get his next belt, like blue or something." you say referring to Summer's 10-year-old brother Danny. It's a lie of course--Summer's brother passed his test over the weekend--but Chris doesn't know that so you're hoping she believes you.<br/>
<br/>
Chris gives you a look and you're worried she won't buy it. "You don't really need to go do you? I'm sure you can blow it off. We haven't really had time to just hang out you know?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I know, I know and I want to." you proclaim, "But mom wants the whole family to be there and support him. I'd have to kill myself to get out of it and even then she'd probably drag my body to the thing before putting it in the ground."<br/>
<br/>
Chris gives you yet another look, her face scrunching up. "That's... macabre." is all she can say.<br/>
<br/>
You look down and fold your hands in your lap. "Sorry. And sorry about not being able to hang out together today." you apologize meekly.<br/>
<br/>
Chris shakes her head. "No, don't be." she replies giving you a warm smile, "Family obligations come first after all and we'll have plenty of days to hang out." She gives you a quick look over and adds "And Summer, stop being so meek. You're a really pretty and intelligent girl. I can see that if you showed a little confidence others would see it as well."<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure how to feel about that... maybe because of Summer's naturally meek and shy personality. As you ride back to Summer's place however you start to get an idea of how people can be attracted to Chris. She's a very genuine and smart person, blunt but nice and at least projects an air of confidence and self-assuredness. And looking at her eve more, she's more attractive than you previously thought... or maybe its her attractive personality that skews your perception. You start to think that perhaps you've made a mistake in deciding not to use the mask on her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"Soooo, what were you and Chris doing with Dana yesterday?" asks Natalie Dawkins flashing you a grin that could best be described as "shit-eating." Natalie, like the other girls you're sitting with at lunch right now, is a member of Alyssa Randall's gossip group; a group nicknamed (both derisively and admiringly) the Rumoratti. The gang is all here except for Mandy who's out sick and Alyssa who's on a trip out of town with the debate team. Natalie herself is only vaguely tolerated by most of the other members as she's quite... hyperactive would be the worst word. As if she goes out of her way to make a nuisance of herself.<br/>
<br/>
"Really, Natalie, I don't think that's any of our business." Tina Branson, the "nice girl" of the group, jumps in.<br/>
<br/>
"What? I just want to know if Chris put the moves on 'em." Natalie continues, "Like you think that'd be kind of important."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Nat." it's Maddie Caron, the group's sharp-tongued, dark haired and big breasted beauty, chiming in. "I'm sure that's exactly what happened. Lots of soft moaning and soapy showers. It was a regular Caged Heat situation."<br/>
<br/>
"She's right though, Mads." adds Lisa Rickover, a thin and sly girl with the look of a classical beauty and the personality of Kaa, "We're supposed to gather information on everyone and we ourselves are no exception." she sidles up to you and puts an arm around your shoulder, looking you in the eye with a devious smile. "Now Summer, dear, please tell us what you were doing with Ms. Yves and Ms. Pak."<br/>
<br/>
Tina shakes her head and sighs. "You're a bitch, Lisa." she says to which Lisa responds with nothing but a smile.<br/>
<br/>
"No it's... it's okay Tina." you say looking up, "Nothing happened. Dana was giving Chris some help in a class and thought she had a book at her house that would've helped Chris but she couldn't find it. Then Chris dropped me off at home." you explain.<br/>
<br/>
A thoughtful look appears on Lisa's face, "That's it?" she asks and you nod in affirmative. "Well thank you Summer. You see Tina, that wasn't so bad was it?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You're such a snake." Tina replies with a snort.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa continues to proudly wear her smirk. "Very true but we broker in information after all. The hierarchy of the school rests in our pretty little hands and as such you need to be cutthroat." she explains.<br/>
<br/>
"Or be willing to sleep with the likes of Sammy Orson or Brett Dutoit." Maddie snarkily chimes in.<br/>
<br/>
The jab does nothing to phase Lisa however. "Being cutthroat includes using your feminine wiles." she explains as the bell rings signifying that your lunch period is over.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"So are you gonna stay as this Summer chick?" Keith asks after you called him up and filled him in on your situation.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know." you answer, "She looks nice but she's just so meek and mousey. There's a lot of great candidates in her little group though..." you trail off. And then it hits you, "Hey Keith, are you still at Blackwell's?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah..." he states.<br/>
<br/>
"Is there any way you'd be able to grab me a mask?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Um... maybe?" Keith answers a little nervously, "Blackwell had a few blank masks laying around. But why do you need one?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's one member of the group who would make an absolutely great person to replace." you explain.<br/>
<br/>
You hear Keith sigh on the other end, "That might be betraying Caleb's trust, dude, I'd need to have it made worth my while."<br/>
<br/>
"Well okay, I admit I'm not 100% on this myself but you want it made worth your while? How about this then..." you think, "Okay so you got that picture of Summer I sent to you before I called right?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith lets out a little laugh and a whistle, "Yeah, yeah I did."  If grinning made a noise you'd probably be able to hear it on your mind.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay so look, grab the mask and then I'll call you up in the morning when I've made up my mind. If I need the mask I'll need you to head over here in the morning and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Head over where?" Keith asks, "I don't know where this chick lives."<br/>
<br/>
You smack your forehead, "Right, duh. 255 Taylor Avenue it's like ten minutes from where you live.  Anyway come over here in the morning and give me the blank mask and in return I'll repay you with Summer's body once I'm all set."<br/>
<br/>
"Repay me with Summer's body how?" Keith asks, intrigue in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Uhhh... leer, grope, eat her pussy, whatever. Anything you want," you answer.<br/>
<br/>
There's a long silence on the other end and then Keith agrees to your terms as the two of you say goodbye and hang up. You've got two possible plans you could enact right now: One involves the one you sort-of mentioned to Keith: Lisa had impressed you earlier in the day. She was ruthless and pretty (although not breathtakingly so) and had a sharp, devious mind. As her you'd be in a great position: high-ranking member of the top group in school and one of its most brilliant minds combined with your knowledge of magic. Likewise you would golemize the Summer mask and slap it on Lisa and tell the new Summer to do whatever Keith asked of her for a 24 hour period.<br/>
<br/>
But would Lisa really be the best choice? She's, well, a bitch and after spending time with Chris you're starting to regret hesitating and getting stuck in this situation. Chris was smart and nice; a very warm person overall. The type of person who could easily fit in anywhere as she generally put everyone of every social circle at ease and was well liked and well respected. Perhaps instead of Lisa you should do what you originally chose to do and go with Chris instead. From her you could then slip in and out of various groups, learn the ins and outs of Eastman's hierarchy and social norms and movers and shakers personally while getting settled into life there. Of course some of that you could do from Summer herself but you wouldn't wield the influence with her that you would with Chris and getting that taste of influence will help you in the long run.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112111211221
author_id: rugal
title: Become Chris Yves
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You know, Summer... two girls. Hanging out in a room. All alone." you turn back towards her, "People might talk." you say with a smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that is..." Summer begins. She shifts nervously a bit before looking up and staring you straight in the face, "Let them talk!"<br/>
<br/>
The words are forceful, much moreso than you ever would've expected. You're taken aback by them. "Summer!" you exclaim excitedly, "Where'd that come from?!" you ask her, beaming brightly.<br/>
<br/>
Summer looks at you, then looks down in nervousness. "Oh, well I was... I was just thinking about what you said to me a few days ago, right?" she explains, "Like about being more confident? And I think you're right." she looks back up, a determined look on her face. It's cute, you think. "I can't just be Little Miss Jumpy. I won't get any respect like that. Just being around you puts me so at ease that it makes me feel like I don't care." she gives you a wry little smirk before adding, "And what about you, huh? Chris Yves using makeup?" she asks teasingly.<br/>
<br/>
"Sometimes you've gotta try new things." you shrug before turning back to the vanity mirror to apply a bit of eyeshadow, "If I'm gonna be Chris I at least want to look a little better. Maybe I'll put some meat on her bones too..." you say looking down at your scrawny arms.<br/>
<br/>
Pulling off the switch was easy. Last night you had called Keith back and asked him to bring the graveyard dirt and matches needed to golemize a mask, a mindstrip and some varnish to seal another one. The next morning as Summer you called Chris and asked if she could give you a ride to school as you wanted to talk to her personally. Chris agreed and after some preparation, you smashed the blank mask and strip to her and in a matter of moments Chris Yves was now Summer Nguyen and you were the new Chris Yves. After a little more work on your look, Summer and you grab your things up. It's a quick trot down to Chris' beat up van and some struggling to get it started and before long the two of you are off on your way to school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Being Chris is... exhausting. She's like the unofficial guidance councilor of half the student body. People come to her for a sympathetic ear or for advice in addition to her large network of friends. One such "friend" was a guy named Adam Karter. Karter was... quite something. He was like John Bender come to life with an act and a look that was long out of style but with the charisma to make it work. Scuttlebutt told you that he had dated and bedded half the female population of Eastman and a few Westside girls too. Karter himself would only deny half of that as he hung around you like a lost puppy. He was a good friend, Chris' mind told you, but even she quickly grew tired of his antics. Not as fast as you, however, and for the rest of the day you went out of your way to avoid him.<br/>
<br/>
One such person that had come seeking advice was Hannah Chamberlain. Hannah, with her toned and athletic body, pretty smile and perfectly wavy dirty blonde hair, was the picture of the all-american girl. A fantastic athlete (she was the star and captain of the girl's basketball team) with almost enough brains to match. Popular and pretty but also very kind. She was almost, in a way, Bizarro Chelsea. Or maybe Chelsea was Bizarro Hannah. But talking to Hannah revealed that she faced constant uncertainty. She planned on going to college on an athletic scholarship and while she loved basketball was that what she really wanted to do with her life? She had a boyfriend on the boy's team, Jordan Reynolds, that she loved but their relationship had been strained as of late due to both teams' schedules. Should she try to make it work? Maybe they should have some time apart.<br/>
<br/>
She just seemed like someone who while a bit unsure of where to go in life just needed a bit of pushing in the right direction and so with her urging you agreed to meet her at her house around 6:30 to talk things over in person. Which was fine by you: Chris Yves was a great person but being her... well all there is to say is that you've begun thinking that maybe you should personally give Hannah some of the direction she's been looking for in life.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of your day as Chris was spent avoiding Karter some more, playing councillor some more and missing Summer more times than you would've liked.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Before heading over to Hannah's you make a quick stop by Blackwell's house where everyone gets caught up on everyone else's current status: Keith had decided on his target and would make the reveal tomorrow while Caleb grumbled about how you and Keith had it a lot easier.  Taking over a university is like taking over a small town, he muttered, and trying to figure out the best people in the right positions was proving to be a pain in the ass. After some more chit chat you golemize the Chris mask and grab one of the last spare blanks hanging around (thankfully there are plenty of mindstrips to grab as well) before heading off to your "date" with the lovely Ms. Chamberlain.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey there sweetie, is Hannah here?" you ask about 15 minutes later as the young girl answers the door.<br/>
<br/>
The girl shakes her head, "Sorry, ummm..." she begins.<br/>
<br/>
"Chris." you smile at her, "Do you have any clue when she'll be home?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, like another ten or fifteen minutes, why?" asks the girl.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, well she wanted me to come over and talk to her about some stuff.' you explain, not really sure if the kid would understand the feelings of confusions and unsureness. You weren't even sure of how old she was.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" exclaims the girl, "Well just wait here then if you need to talk to her!" she offers.<br/>
<br/>
You eye her skeptically, "Are you sure it'll be alright?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She nods an affirmative, "Yeah, mom's worn out from the hospital so she's sleeping right now and dad's working until 8:00 tonight so they won't care." she explains.<br/>
<br/>
With nothing else to do, you step inside and sit on the sofa.  Placing the mask on the coffee table, you pull out the <i>Libras</i> and begin trying to read up on the next spell when a few minutes later a voice breaks in.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, what's this mask for?" it asks as you look up.  You moan in horror as you realize it's too late to stop anything.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"Ugh, goddamn it. Fucking kid." you mutter to yourself as you open the book up. They're words that sound completely unnatural in the sweet, girly voice that comes from Christine Chamberlain's mouth. Then again wearing the body of a kid also felt natural but after Christine put the mask to her face, you had needed to act fast and being afraid that she could wake up with memories of what the mask did you decided that "acting fast" meant grabbing a mind strip as well and impersonating Hannah's 11-year-old sister, at least for a bit, while Christine became Chris.<br/>
<br/>
It's around 1:00 AM  and up in Christine's room you're pouring over the book for the next spell. It's another varnish type material that, after scrounging around the kitchen and garage you thankfully have the material to make. To actually apply it and move on to the next spell is going to involve removing the Christine mask and that means... well it IS your body now but something would still feel wrong about it so as you remove your clothes (so as not to destroy them after removing the mask) you keep your eyes firmly shut until the mask has been removed. Applying the varnish and quickly buffing it, you notice that the mask has suddenly become blank. What the... does that mean that Christine's image has been erased from the mask? Noticing that you're able to turn to the next page, you notice only a series of sigils within sigils within sigils. At first they make no sense but with further inspection... yeah okay!<br/>
<br/>
The varnish just works as a layer, covering up Christine's image and allowing a new one to be added. Deciding to test it out, you quietly sneak through the house with the remaining two mindstrips pressing the mask (and strips) to the faces of Hannah and Denise, the girls' mother, with a layer of varnish inbetween. Going back to grab the book and Christine's night clothes, you sneak into the bathroom and lock the door before putting the mask on. Staring back at you is a naked Denise Chamberlain, a pretty young nurse at 34 who in her wilder younger days managed to get knocked up  with Hannah during her senior year of high school. You then look down at the book to see a graphic of a hand sliding across a brow. You mimic it and you're now staring at a naked Hannah, and after one more hesitant swipe... it's Christine. You very quickly get dressed and head off to bed.<br/>
<br/>
As you awaken the next morning, you overhear talk between Christine's mom and Hannah. After landing awkwardly on her ankle at practice, Denise thought Hannah should get it looked at. Hannah contended it was just a mild sprain but in the end mom won and Hannah would be kept from school. This gave you an idea and quickly sneaking into Hannah's room you grabbed her phone. Hannah may in fact make it to school after all, you thought. Use this handy little chameleon mask you were now wearing to gather a couple of images that you could switch to in order to live various lives around the school. Having to remove the mask in public could be dangerous however and part of you wondered if it'd be better to meet up with Caleb, Dana and Sarah in order to discuss the new spells and mask.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112111211222
author_id: rugal
title: Become Lisa Rickover
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Grab me some underwear and a bra from that drawer." you say to Keith pointing in the direction of said drawer. You're currently standing in front of Summer's closet wearing only a towel as you pull stuff out and put it back in looking for something to wear. "Ugh, all this girl owns is skirts. Would it kill her to buy some jeans?" you complain.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah well I'm sure she looks good in them so why change it?" Keith asks as he pulls out a pair of black panties and a dark blue bra.<br/>
<br/>
"Those don't match, grab me a black bra." you say to him as he rolls his eyes and goes rooting around in the drawer again. "And what about OUT of them?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Keith just smiles, "Yeah that was pretty awesome." he answered referring to the fact you had given him a quick flash of Summer's non-clothed form. "You'll have to show me again some time... maybe a little more."<br/>
<br/>
You scrunch your face up, it probably looks cute you realize. "After school." you say simply, "Come pick the new Summer up. I'll tell her to spend the day with you and give you some good company." You finally pull out some stuff you like, a long black skirt and a short-sleeved black short, and begin getting dressed. "So you've got the blank?" you ask him as you stand in front the mirror on the wall behind Summer's dresser and begin doing her hair and makeup.<br/>
<br/>
Keith procures the mask from his backpack and places it on the bed. "Yeah, I gave Caleb some bullshit but he didn't really seem to care. Also managed to grab you a blank mindstrip." he says tossing the mindstrip onto the bed as well.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh thanks Keith, you're a sweetheart." you say hoping to make him blush. "So do you have any clue who you're going to take?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"I've narrowed it down to a couple, yeah." he answers as he flops down onto the bed. "Jeremy, Cassie and Kim."<br/>
<br/>
"Kim...?" you ask turning to look at him quizically.<br/>
<br/>
"Walsh." states Keith, "Should be pretty obvious why. Wields a lot of influence, well-liked, nice to look at in that cute nerd way."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Jeremy and Cassie?" you ask referring to your ex-friend-turned-basketball player Jeremy Richards and a classmate of yours named Cassie Harper.<br/>
<br/>
Keith gives you a shrug. "Jeremy's handsome and a jock and not as much of a prick as the others. He's got potential and if I can hook him up to someone like Yumi or Maria I think I could ride their popularity to eventually usurp Gordon and Chelsea." he explains, "Cassie... well she's adorable, you really should've hit that by the way because she was way into you, and lovable. It'd be a fun challenge to see if I could take those qualities and work my way up the social ladder." He grunts as he pulls himself up, "What about you?"<br/>
<br/>
You give him a look. "Summer's part of this group, they're like the gossip queens of Eastman. They're plugged in everywhere; ould probably tell you where to find Carmen Sandiego if you really wanted to know." you explain, "Anyway there's one in particular that I've got my eyes on for various reasons. She's not bad looking but doesn't have Maddie's tits or Tina's sweet girl-next-door thing and folksy twang but... well, you'll find out." is all you can say.<br/>
<br/>
You and Keith make a bit more small talk before he leaves to make sure he's only fashionably late for school instead of late late and you head off to catch Summer's bus.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"So are you and Chris a thing yet?"<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa Randall is back from her trip and has cornered you inbetween classes. You've spent enough time as Summer to know that while her and Chris are friendly Chris has the desire to be... friendlier with Summer, something she's unsure of as it's thrown her idea of her sexuality into question. She'd had a few boyfriends in the past but they always ended rather awkeardly and now that she's the target of Chris' affections she's starting to wonder if perhaps the reason why is because maybe she just doesn't have that sort of attraction towards the opposite sex. Or maybe she's just a Chrissexual; something that seems to happen to people of BOTH genders who spend time enough time with her. That's not a surprise, she's genuine and comes across as almost empathic.<br/>
<br/>
"I... like I told Natalie," you begin turning towards her, "it was nothing. We just went to Dana's to find a book that's all."<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa cocks an eyebrow, she can be cutthroat but she cares for her friends and feels that what she does as the Queen of the Rumoratti is necessary to keep Eastman civil. She's heard the stories of Westside and has made it a mission to not allow any Chelsea Coopers or Gordon Blacks under her watch. A sort of utopia justifies the means mentality.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh god... they didn't tell you yet did they?" your face flushes.<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa just laughs and puts an arm around your shoulder, "They did Summer, don't worry. I was just wondering what you'd say. You know I really only want the best for you."<br/>
<br/>
As the bell rings she gives you a quick, friendly hug as you two seperate. The history between Summer and Alyssa, who could not be any more opposite, goes back to their late elementary school days. Alyssa had always been bossy and had a thing about protecting people from bullies and she seemed to take a particular shine to Summer and has made it seemingly her life's goal to help the girl become more assertive and to break out of her shell. It really does blow your mind just how different the upper-tier at Eastman is compared to Westside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
School's let out for the day and you're standing in the back of the library, which is mostly empty thankfully, waiting for Lisa to arrive. You pulled her aside during lunch to tell her that you had something you needed to talk to her about one-on-one. As you fidget nervously, letting Summer's personality shine through a bit, you perk up as you see her walk towards you.<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa, hey!" you greet her taking her into a hug. Lisa, like Alyssa, likes to be close to people. Hugs, sidling up, those things but unlike Alyssa she does it to make people more comfortable in order to get them to drop their guard. It makes getting them to spill the beans that much easier after all.<br/>
<br/>
"Summer, we really haven't talked privately all that much have we?" she says pulling away and giving you a smile. "So to what do I owe the pleasure?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, well it's..." you begin, "Okay, so yesterday I had gone up with my mom to the store since we needed to get some stuff for dinner right?" you add the obligatory nervousness to your speech, "And, um, I ran into this guy. He... he said he went to Westside but he had seen us, uh our group, around at various places. He... he asked me about you. Your name and all of that." you say making up a story.<br/>
<br/>
"About me, huh?" Lisa says, a look of intrigue on her face, "Well isn't that surprising? Go on."<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath and continue, "Okay, well I told him about you a bit. Like how you're smart and perceptive and everything and he just seemed enamored. He said he liked that, thought you were beautiful and loved that you were so smart. I told him that you're all take charge and he liked that too. He told me it was admirable, he liked a girl with those qualities. He... said that he wanted to be you."<br/>
<br/>
Lisa gives you a look and then laughs, "So I have a stalker? A crazy one who wants to be me?" she snickers a little bit more not watching as you begin opening Summer's backpack, "And how does he think he's going to do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like this." you say as you jam the mind strip onto her face. Lisa goes limp and you catch her thanking god you had to good sense to stand near the entrance of the library's bathrooms as you drag Lisa's form into them and into one of the stalls just as the mind strip reapppears. Quickly you grab it and slap the mask onto her face.<br/>
<br/>
As you divest her of her clothing, you give Lisa's form a quick look over: thin and narrow-waisted with small, pert breasts. On its own it's nothing to write home about but Lisa carries it with a confidence that makes it undeniably attractive. She's like a regular vamp. You quickly strip the mask off and thank god once again that taking a mask off doesn't black you out. As the now-Lisafied mask appears, you quickly seal it and fuse the mind strip, then put it on.<br/>
<br/>
Coming to a few moments later, you see a fully-dressed Summer standing over you. "Get dressed." she says plainly.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Summer? What happened, I..." you begin before reasserting your personality.<br/>
<br/>
"What happened... that's what I would like to know." Summer states plainly before adding, "How come you're wearing my body Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"W-Will..." you begin.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Will." Summer replies, "Your memories are in this... mask... of Summer. I know Will. I know who you are and what you're doing."<br/>
<br/>
Shit! You must've forgotten to golemize the Summer mask before... shit! Lisa knows. She knows everything. This is bad, real bad. You have to find some way to get her out of the picture, to... an anima band of course! Make an anima band of yourself and throw it onto Lisa tomorrow or tonight or... no, calm down. This could be a boon: Lisa's smart and ruthless and she may make a good ally. Both in getting used to Eastman and the Rumoratti and in case Caleb and Keith try anything funny. They don't know... she could be your ace in the hole.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121112112222
author_id: seuzz
title: Secret Partner
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Everything?" you ask with a gulp.<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you piercingly--a disconcerting expression on the normally shy face of Summer Nguyen. "I don't know what 'everything' is," she says slowly. "But it's pretty clear you're some guy--some pervert--who gets off on dressing up like girls." She softly brushes her cheek. "And you've found some trick that lets you pretend to be any girl. Perfectly."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't like being called a 'pervert'," you retort. "Originally I was aiming at becoming Shawn Gregory."<br/>
<br/>
"Missed him by a little bit, didn't you," she replies, and looks you up and down. "So what are you up to now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, if you want your life and body back, I'll give it back," you say as you stand up. "I'll just take that mask off you--"<br/>
<br/>
You reach for her face, but she grabs you by the wrist. "You've got friends," she says. "At least one. Keith. Yeah, Keith." Her expression turns hungry. "Don't you want more friends?" A half smile appears on her face. "Maybe a girlfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
"You want in on this?"<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes gleam. "What do <i>you</i> think?"<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you can feel the snapping desire from inside Lisa's own mask. "What do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do <i>you</i> want," she retorts. Then she seems to remember where you are, and glances over her shoulder. "Come on, get dressed. We'll go someplace and talk." She backs slowly out of the stall, then turns and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
You dress, though not so quickly that you don't have time to think. Lisa is clever--dangerously clever--but it's clear she doesn't know everything about you and your friends. She only knows what "Summer Nguyen's" mask has seen, said, and heard. You could probably manage her. And it could be useful having a confederate. True, she could be just as much of a confederate with an anima band on her, but those things are even more dangerous than she is. <br/>
<br/>
Well, there shouldn't be much harm in trying her out on a probationary period, you decide as you splash a little cold water onto your new face. (You're feeling and looking a little pale.) After all, in this guise you have total access to her own mind. You doubt she could surprise you.<br/>
<br/>
"So, where are we going," you ask when you catch up to her outside.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Lisa," she says in a mousy tone, and squirms a little. "Where do you want to go?"<br/>
<br/>
You give her a sharp look. "Getting settled in, are we," you say in an acid tone.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you mean," she says plaintively. But the gleam in her dark eyes tells you it's just an act.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind up at The Crystal Cave, a coffee shop that has pleasantly dark corners in the back where you won't be observed. Summer stutters over her order at the counter, but once you're in the back booth she relaxes, and digs inside your purse to draw out a cigarette. "You don't smoke, Summer," you tell her bluntly.<br/>
<br/>
"Who's going to fucking catch me?" she says as she lights it expertly and blows out a long streamer. "Go on, you're dying to have one too." She's right, so you light one up. Then the two of you lean back to study each other through the curls of smoke. "So who else is in on this?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've got two friends," you say. "Keith you know about. And a guy named Caleb Johansson." <br/>
<br/>
"I don't know you guys, never seen you around school."<br/>
<br/>
"We go to Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"Ha. Are they moving over to Eastman too?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Keith is staying at Westside. Caleb is moving up to the university."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
You shift uneasily. "We each want our own playground."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm. So how did you get Summer? Where is the real Summer? Is she also part of the group?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. She's under a mask at Eastman." Reluctantly, you describe golem shells and how they hide people while burying their real personality. "I forgot to put one inside that mask--" you gesture at her face "--before I put it on you."<br/>
<br/>
Her expression darkens; obviously she's reflecting that you might still try to trap her under a mask. But she says nothing except, "So why did you decide you wanted to be me? Not that I'm not flattered."<br/>
<br/>
"You're a smart girl. I figured I could use your brain."<br/>
<br/>
"And now you've got it." Her eyes travel up to your forehead. "What are you going to do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Be one of the Rumorati. One of the smart ones."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with Alyssa?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. But--"<br/>
<br/>
"But she doesn't do anything with all her influence, does she?" Summer stabs out her cigarette and takes out another. "With these masks, though--" She brushes her face again. "You can run things from the shadows. Alyssa's not in the shadows."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd like to run things from the shadows, wouldn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you hard without lighting the cigarette, and slowly her gaze grows distant. "Something like that," she says quietly. She is silent a moment, and you try to anticipate what she is thinking and will say. "Alyssa is so <i>good,</i>" she finally says with a bitter tone. "I'd love to see her fuck up."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd want to stay as Summer, then," you observe. "Perfect place to ambush her from."<br/>
<br/>
"I-- I don't know what you mean," she gasps, and her voice has changed again. She seems to see the cigarette she is holding, and drops it as though it's burned her fingers. "Alyssa is so nice to me," she says in a miserable voice. "I've never had a friend like Alyssa." She clasps her arms, and a tremble goes through her. "You're a terrible girl, Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
"I am, aren't I?" you reply with lazy amusement--the lazy amusement you're sure Lisa is feeling. You stub out your own cigarette and pick up the one she's dropped. If she's going to play Summer, you should play Lisa. "Come on, Summer. Tell me what you'd <i>really</i> like to do. And how I can help."<br/>
<br/>
The hair falls across her face as she lowers her head. "It's what Alyssa wants that's important, isn't it," she says breathlessly. She cradles herself more tightly. "I think-- I think she wants me and Chris Yves to get together."<br/>
<br/>
"Do <i>you</i> want to get together with Yves?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know." Her tone is agonized.<br/>
<br/>
You grunt thoughtfully. That is probably Summer talking, but it is probably also Lisa herself. You can sense Lisa's own fascination with--and resentment of--the charismatic Yves. To cradle in Yves's arms, to suck on her lips and tongue, to rub at her soft parts and to feel her hot, busy fingers ... "I think Yves is really into Summer," you say knowingly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Summer slowly admits. Her face is completely hidden behind a curtain of dark hair. <br/>
<br/>
"Then that's not the way to fuck with Alyssa, is it?" You inhale deeply from the cigarette. "You know, Alyssa is very good at arranging other people's lives. Is she so good at arranging her own?"<br/>
<br/>
Summer is silent for a moment. "I don't know who she's interested in."<br/>
<br/>
"I bet Summer could find out. Sweet Summer, who wants the best for Alyssa, and wants to help her out the way Alyssa has helped her out."<br/>
<br/>
"And I could get it for her, in the worst way," Summer says. Her face is still hidden, but she reaches over and takes the cigarette from you, and takes a deep puff on it.<br/>
<br/>
"Then we should do some snooping. You on your end, me on mine. I bet Lawrence Farmer has some ideas."<br/>
<br/>
Her head droops lower. And then with a sigh she raises it again. "I want you out of that mask," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You rear back as though slapped. "A little late to be worrying about your privacy, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'd be better off someplace else. Alyssa doesn't trust Lisa. And if we put some of that stuff inside that mask, Lisa can just be a puppet."<br/>
<br/>
"So where do you want me?" Too late, you realize that Lisa is very used to being in charge, and is likely to try bullying you. "Maybe I've got my own ideas."<br/>
<br/>
"You couldn't get Shawn and you couldn't settle on Summer. I don't think you have any idea what you want. You'd do just as well as Maddy or Tina. And they're closer to Alyssa."<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted someone who is smart. Someone near the top of the school."<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny Taylor?" Captain of the girls' soccer team, and girlfriend of Kyle Lakewood, captain of the boys' soccer team. <i>Nice.</i> "Or Hannah Chamberlain," she continues. "Alyssa hasn't said anything, but Hannah is one of her projects, I think. You could keep her busy with Hannah's life." Hannah Chamberlain and her on-again, off-again relationship with the basketball player. Fucking with his head, to the chagrin of Ian Carpenter, the captain of the boys' basketball team. Ian, who is clearly smitten by Alyssa, but can't get anywhere with her. <br/>
<br/>
"I didn't move to Eastman so I could fuck things up. I moved here because I wanted to get away from a fucked up scene back at Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"So get yourself a collection," she retorts, and it's Lisa's tone coming out of Summer again. "Use Hannah to help me, and move back and forth between her and some Little Miss Perfect."<br/>
<br/>
"Or I could just find someone who would make <i>Lisa Rickover</i> happy," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"And who would <i>that</i> be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoever would make <i>Alyssa</i> happy," you blurt out before you realize it.<br/>
<br/>
A sly smile appears on Summer's face. "I like the way you think, <i>Lisa,</i>" she says.<br/>
<br/>
Well, now you feel trapped. </span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211121122221
author_id: rugal
title: Rebound
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You make a stop by Blackwell's house and are surprised to find Caleb out of his mask. Pleasantries are exchanges and you ask if he has anyone picked out. He does but he hasn't been able to get them because SOMEONE has shorted him of masks. You apologize and ask who he's looking at and two names come up: Rhonda Turner and Chad Olafsky. Rhonda's father owns a car dealership and you muse that there sure are a lot of them in Saratoga Falls. Rhonda's a cute mixed-race girl and has money so things would be fairly easy as her is Caleb's reasoning. Chad is a frat boy; a bit of a meathead bro but a decent guy who's outgoing and easygoing nature makes him quite popular among the campus. Neither name rings any bells to the surprise of no one.<br/>
<br/>
For your part you give him an update on what's happening with you and who you're pretending to be right now, though you make sure to leave out your little "mistake". Keith, however, isn't around right now which leaves you relieved at not having to come up with excuses about Summer right now to him.<br/>
<br/>
You then ask him if he has any masks made up and thankfully he has quite a few: six masks to split up two a piece. Of course he's not happy about having to buff them but that sparks an idea in your head; Lisa is nothing if not a bit ingenuous after all. If you have to buff them, you deduce, who said you had to do it by hand? Go to a hardware store and get an autobuffer, the kind you use for cars and other such, and it would probably cut down the time immensely. Caleb smacks his forehead kicking himself over not having thought of that. After getting your masks you depart home to put your idea into action by going out into the garage and using the one your father has. It only takes about two hours to get both done.<br/>
<br/>
At school the next day things go normally and boringly and you mention to Summer about your planned move. It's not until the end of the day, however, where you're able to get to Hannah and get her alone in the women's restroom. At that point you make the switch, a bit hard to do in one of the small and dingy stalls.<br/>
<br/>
Hannah Chamberlain is a pretty girl with wavy brown hair. Her facial features give her a bit of a girl next door or All-American girl look if the girl next door or All-American girl was a dedicated athlete who took pride in her toned, incredibly fit appearance and stood well over six feet tall. Or if she... something in her mind comes up. It reaches out to you, hidden away but begging to pulled free. Mentally you reach out a hand and pull it up. And you're quite surprised by what it is that you see. Surprised but at the same time if Lisa was looking to shake things up, then suggesting Hannah was an inadvertently great suggestion. You send a text to Summer's phone to meet you at Hannah's house in the evening to talk about things and then after looking at yourself once more in the bathroom mirror head off to basketball practice.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"HANNAH! Someone's here to see you!" the voice of Amanda Chamberlain, Hannah's 11-year-old sister, cuts through the house interrupting your rummage through the refrigerator to see if there was any orange juice left. "HAAAAAANAAAAAAH!"<br/>
<br/>
"Jeez I'm only in the kitchen, you don't have to yell." you say as you walk up to front door and usher her off. "Oh, Summer! Hi! Come in!" you say greeting her.<br/>
<br/>
Summer looks around as she steps in then back at you, a small smile on her face. "It's a pretty nice home, huh?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, definitely. It's--" you notice Amanda still hovering around, "You know, it'll be better to just go over that thing we're working on. In my room. In PRIVATE." you say to Summer emphasizing the last point. Amanda responds by playfully sticking her tongue out.<br/>
<br/>
"Cute kid." Summer says as you enter your room and close the door.<br/>
<br/>
"If you ever want out feel free to take her." you reply sarcastically, "She can be kind of a brat so it'd be nice to have someone calmer in there."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll pass." Summer replies, more of Lisa shining through in the way she says it, "So what did you want to talk about?" She makes a move to sit down on the edge of your bed.<br/>
<br/>
"It's about Jordan and me." you state bluntly, "You know how it goes right? The two of us are inseparable, lovey dovey, then two weeks or three weeks or however long later things change. We grow apart. Jordan gets depressed. Ian complains about the team being affected. Alyssa catches wind and there's lots of drama as I bury myself in basketball. Then we kiss and make up."<br/>
<br/>
Summer lets out a grunt, "Pertinent information I'm sure. Thanks for these new insights into Hannah's character."<br/>
<br/>
You take a seat next to her and look over with a warm smile. "And everybody wonders why, don't they? They say that I'm a drama queen. Or that I'm crazy. 'Poor Jordan, how can Hannah Chamberlain string him along all the time?' That's what they say, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I mean, that's what I hear I guess. It's what we all hear but I don't know how much to believe and..." It surprises you how easy she can slip in and out. of course given Lisa's nature perhaps you shouldn't be.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, it's cute." you say, "I can see why Chris is so endeared by you. You're quite cute. And knowing Chris, I think she LIKES that you're so unsure of yourself. It means she can grab you," you grab her hand, "hold you close," you pull her in and wrap an arm around her, "and tell you that everything is going to be alright." You brush a bit of hair out of her face and hold her close to you.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you--" she begins. And then realization sets in.<br/>
<br/>
"You see why mine and Jordan's relationship is so unstable, right?"<br/>
<br/>
A very Lisa-esque smirk creeps onto Summer's face. "This would certainly throw a wrench into Alyssa's plans wouldn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Plus I'M the drama whore and cancer of the boy's team, remember. How would that reflect?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"She would do everything she could to suppress the drama." comes the reply. "And I think Chris would be the type not to do things in an outward manner. She'd bottle it up." But then that smirk grows into what's practically a Cheshire grin. "Of course if Chris wasn't herself..."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you saying?"<br/>
<br/>
"You switch into Chris. Summer and Hannah start spending time together and you act jealous. You stew. You make your unhappiness known but maybe don't explode." she explains.<br/>
<br/>
"And what's that going to accomplish?" you ask, "Just the act of the two of them getting together would be enough to mess with Alyssa. I don't know if I want to put the screws to her like that."<br/>
<br/>
Summer shrugs, "It's up to you, I'm just along for the ride you know. But wouldn't you want me to be that much more grateful to you? That much more loyal?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm surprised that's a word in your vocabulary." you state.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not a bad person." Summer replies, "I'd just like to see Alyssa taken down a peg some times. Or to not rest on her laurels. Or maybe I just want have a little fun. But you help me out and I promise you that I'll be someone you'll want to have around." she states, as you go to say something she takes a finger and places it on your lips, "Someone you'll want to have around in various ways."<br/>
<br/>
A little bit of harmless hooking up would put Alyssa on edge but not ruffle too many feathers but full-on drama between Hannah, Summer, and Chris would make Alyssa's life that much more difficult. Lisa IS right, she's not a sociopath but at the same time you're sure there's an angle. But she's a fascinating creature no matter her appearance and that fascination leaves you wanting to keep her close to you... very close, perhaps. And besides a love triangle wouldn't turn the school into Westside. Maybe it's best to play along.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112111211222212
author_id: imaj
title: A Love Dodecahedron
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“If you think about it,” adds the fake Summer  in a pleading tone, slipping back into character.  “Eastman is just as fucked up as Westside anyway.  Just in a different way.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean <i>Lisa</i>,” you respond, stressing the girl’s real name.  She’s playing an angle here, you’re sure of it.  You figure the best way to let her know that you know is to remind her who she really is.<br/>
<br/>
The charming naïveté vanishes from the Summer visage and Lisa’s face shows her more habitual slyness.  “Hannah,” she explains.  “Do you think Alyssa is being fair on her?”<br/>
<br/>
You delve into Hannah’s personality for a moment, looking out her innermost feelings.  There is a profound unhappiness at the centre that keeps resurfacing despite Hannah’s attempts to bury it.  “No,” you begin.<br/>
<br/>
“Because Alyssa keeps on forcing her back into a relationship she doesn’t want to be in,” interrupts Lisa.  “Forcing you in a relationship you don’t want to be in.  Tell me again how Eastman is so much better than Westside.  At least Chelsea Cooper doesn’t pretend to be acting in your own best interested before she knifes you in the back.”<br/>
<br/>
You are silent for what seems like an age.  You can think of no response to Lisa’s argument.  You realise she’s twisting things, misrepresenting and trying to confuse the issues, but at the core, she has a point.  “Let’s say I agree with you,” you eventually respond quietly.  “What would <i>you </i>have us do?”<br/>
<br/>
Lisa smirks, twisting Summer’s face unpleasantly.  “Like I said, we mess with Lisa.  Keep her off balance.  But…” she draws out the last word and runs her hand along your back, her fingers lingering at the bottom.<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes, the reaction of Hannah’s personality.  “But?”<br/>
<br/>
“If you really want to stop Alyssa ruining peoples lives because she some artificial idea of how everything should be, you take her down,” explains Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
“And set you up instead,” you ask sceptically.<br/>
<br/>
“Us up,” says Lisa smoothly.  “I said I was just along for the ride, didn’t I?  Besides, wouldn’t  it would be much more interesting to have some fun once Alyssa was gone?  With these masks, you can work your way into any corner of the school you wanted.  Play about, or just watch.  It’s up to you.”  Lisa pulls you close for another kiss.  “And I’d be there with you.”<br/>
<br/>
“How very Darwinian of you,” you sigh.  You’ve been inside Lisa’s head and you retain just enough of her character to realise just how appealing this idea is to her.  A small part of you agrees with her.  “But we’d always be able to stop things getting too out of hand,”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course,” replies Lisa with a wide smile that doesn’t wholly convince.<br/>
<br/>
“So I swap for Chris then,” you reply.<br/>
<br/>
“You could, but I just had a better idea,” explains Lisa.  “Hannah is one of Alyssa’s projects.  Summer is another.  You could be Chris and bring both of them to the happy resolution that Alyssa wants, if not the one she expects.”<br/>
<br/>
“We agreed that,” you interrupt a little irritably.  “It would mess with Alyssa.”<br/>
<br/>
“But if we want to shatter her,” continues Lisa, ignoring you.  “We need something big on top of that.  Something that would turn the social order upside down.  Let me handle Summer.”  She slips instantly back into character, her posture changing subtly as her demeanour becomes altogether more meek.  “I’m emotionally needy and clingy,” she whines.  “If I’m not careful I could drive Chris away.”<br/>
<br/>
You snort as you try to suppress a laugh.  Lisa smiles wickedly as she sheds Summer’s personality again.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s one crisis,” continues Lisa, enumerating with her fingers.  ”Then we hook Hannah up with someone that will send shockwaves through Eastman.  Something so drastic that even Alyssa can’t handle it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I suppose you have someone in mind,” you ask wearily.<br/>
<br/>
“I do,” replies Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
She tells you who.<br/>
<br/>
You nod in agreement.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You peer through the gaps in the shelving at the municipal library, trying to get a clear view of Lisa’s suggestion.  “Is this the only way,” you ask quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” replies Lisa with a whisper, still in her guise as Summer.  “Like you said, she wouldn’t be interested in Hannah otherwise.”<br/>
<br/>
“But she will be when I’m her,” you whisper glumly.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t understand what the problem is,” whispers Lisa.  “You’ve already put more than one person under these masks.”  She leans in closely.  “You were going to do it to <i>me</i>.  You can hardly be her,” she continues, nodding in the direction of your target.  “When she’s still walking around.  Besides, you need someone to be Hannah, and a Hannah who’s going to stop crawling back to Jordan every time Alyssa leans on her.”<br/>
<br/>
“It just feels wrong,” you mutter, not quite able to fully vocalise your concerns.  “I mean, she’s reading to children there.  Does she deserve this?”<br/>
<br/>
“Keep your voice down,” hisses Lisa.  “Did Summer or Hannah deserve it?  You’ll let them out.”  She pauses briefly.  “Eventually.  Let me handle her and you can wait in the toilets.  Give me the spare mask.”<br/>
<br/>
Reluctantly, you pull the one remaining polished mask you have from its hiding place in your bag and hand it to Lisa.  “Off you go <i>Hannah</i>,” she says, shooing you in the direction of the rest rooms.<br/>
<br/>
The toilets are thankfully empty when you reach them and that gives you a chance to relax and take stock.  You lean on the counter and turn Hannah’s face this way and that, examining it closely.  You haven’t had the chance to settle into being Hannah properly but you’ll still end up close to her.  You probe at her feelings, trying to gauge how she’ll feel about your new identity.  There’s a sense of cautious optimism in Hannah’s feelings.  Of course, the replacement Hannah will be a golem and will love the new you as deeply as you tell it too, but it would be better all round if there was minimal reprogramming required.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” you say quietly to yourself.  “This is going to work.  The whole school is going to be surprised when they see Hannah and Oh, hi Jenny,” you finish as you see the door opening in the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
“Hannah,” replies Jenny Taylor, faintly surprised to see you.  You turn round to face the captain of the girls soccer team as Lisa, her face a mask of Summer nervousness, edges in behind her.<br/>
<br/>
“Um Jenny,” you say nervously, repeating yourself.  The apprehension is shared by both you and Hannah.  “Hi.”  You try to keep your gaze on Jenny as Lisa quietly and firmly closes the door.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you OK,” asks Jenny kindly.  “Summer said it was important that you talked to me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Um…  Yes,” you hesitate.  Jenny is definitely a good match for Hannah.  Not quite as tall as your current guise, but just as fit and athletic.  Jenny’s hair is a dirty blonde to Hannah’s brown and she has a more commanding aura too.  Your eyes fix themselves on Jenny’s breasts, generous and firm.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa rolls her eyes behind Jenny, almost succeeding in drawing your gaze away.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, Jenny has noticed by now and unless you say something things are going to get ugly.  “I’m gay,” you blurt, finally succeeding in dragging your eyes back up to Jenny’s face.  Her expression darkens for the briefest of moments then she smiles a little sadly.  “I’m gay and I’m too scared to tell Alyssa,” you finish.<br/>
<br/>
“Because of you and Jordan,” replies Jenny ruefully.  You see the realisation in her face, that she’s worked out the root of Hannah’s apparent dramatics.  “You want me to help break it to Alyssa, don’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, that’s it,” you say, staring at your feet, still submerged in Hannah’s own nervousness.  This admission is mortifying for her.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa bursts out laughing, a throaty chuckle that is so uncharacteristic for Summer that it stops both you and Jenny in your tracks.  “No that’s not it at all,” she says airily, smirking all the time.  “My friend pretending to be Hannah has decided that he wants to pretend to be <i>you </i>Jenny.”  Jenny’s face freezes, unsure what to make of what she is hearing.  Lisa practically skips around her.  “And what a perfect Jenny Taylor he will be too, just like I’m a perfect Summer Nguyen.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t understand,” Jenny eventually manages to say.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh this is too much,” sniggers Lisa.  “I’m going to enjoy remembering this moment for some time.  Such a shame it has to end so soon.”  And with that Lisa thrusts the blank mask onto Jenny’s face, catching her as her legs give way beneath her.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa helps you remove Jenny’s clothes.  They’re simple, plain garments:  A pair of jeans, an unremarkable cotton blouse, battered old tennis shoes and plain white panties and a bra.  She piles the clothes neatly as you pull away at the mask of Hannah you wear.  Removing the mask leaves you feeling dizzy, but you don’t slip in to unconsciousness.  Hannah’s clothes feel odd on you, tight in some places but loose in others.  The mask is already golemized, of course.  You aren’t going to make that mistake again<br/>
<br/>
“Pleased to finally meet you, by the way,” says Lisa, offering her hand.  “I’m Lisa Rickover.”<br/>
<br/>
“Will Prescott,” you mutter weakly, taking her hand.<br/>
<br/>
“You know Will,” says Lisa.  “Seeing her like this, I almost want to take her for myself.  How about you let me be Jenny and you can go back to being little old Summer?”</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121112112222121
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: Insist on becoming Jenny yourself
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>''I thought we had a deal ,<i>Lisa</i>'', you say, emphasising her name. Your head is still woozy from taking off Hannah's mask, but somehow you muster the will to not yield from Lisa's demand.<br/>
<br/>
For the briefest of time, a Lisa-esque scowl passes over Summer's face, transforming her mousy visage grotesque. ''Alright,'' she extends her hand with Jenny's mask on it, which you take from her quickly and begin to work on sealing the mask. ''Put it on then, so we can get the hell away from this place.'', she urges you. ''I'm dying for a smoke.''<br/>
<br/>
''Just keep watching the door.'', you walk over to the still unconscious figure of Jenny lying naked on the cold hard floor and drop Hannah's golemized mask on her. You have no desire to drink in the sight of the transformation, at least not while you know that Lisa's going to sneer behind your back. So you quickly divest yourself of Hannah's ill-fitting clothing, then prop yourself against the the toilet and press Jenny's mask on your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
''Jenny, are you okay?'', a concerned looking Summer rush to your side as soon as you come to. <br/>
<br/>
Your head swims as you sit up, but as soon as it subsides, you feel nothing but full of energy. ''Thanks Summer, I don't know what came over me.'', and you slowly get up <i>if Lisa wants to roleplay, you'll go along</i>.<br/>
<br/>
Involuntarily, you suck in a deep breath. You feel athletic and fit, just as you did as Hannah, but you also feel sexy and confident, ready to take on the world. Out from the corner of your eyes, you see Hannah looking nervously at you covering her bosom and snatch with her hands. Obviously she knows about the plan you and Lisa has discussed whilst you're under her mask. <br/>
<br/>
''Ogle yourself later.'', Lisa sheds Summer's personality again. ''Don't you think privacy is a little bit too late now?'', she sneers as she regards Hannah's demeanor, who can only give her a look of defiance.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, you become very tired of Lisa's constantly nagging you, telling you what to do. You're Will Prescott, for god's sake. You defeated a magician. You don't need anyone ordering you around. <br/>
<br/>
Glancing knowingly at Hannah, you move towards Summer and jump her. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
The pain in your ribs pulsates rythmitically and your breathing is irregular, but you finally resolved to get rid of an eventual problem as your gaze falls onto the unconscious Lisa Rickover, Hannah's clothes fits loosely on her body, you are sitting on her torso. As Summer, she put up an honorable struggle in the face of adversity. She trashed, struggled, kicked, punched, slapped and bit the hell out of her assailants. That pain on your rib was where her elbow made contact with your body. That bruise around your eyes was from one of her wild punches, the red marks on your hand was when you tried to stop her from screaming, only to have her jaw locked on your hand. They will disappear when you switch over to another mask, but you still have to deal with them if you decide to don on this mask. Moving your gaze away from Lisa and on to a half dressed Hannah Chamberlain, you can see bruises on her shins. <br/>
<br/>
But in the end, Summer was no match for two of the fittest girls in Eastman. Having pinned her against a wall, you put your hand on her brows, cited the incantation and pulled. Much to your relief, almost immediately the form of Lisa Rickover appeared and sagged against the wall. As quick as you can, you and Hannah divested her of Summer's clothes and dressed her back with Hannah's, although somewhat makeshift, it was enough.<br/>
<br/>
Hannah gives you the thumbs up, she's finished donning herself up. Jenny's cotton blouse hangs on her shoulders, giving you a glimpse of her shapely tummy. You pry Jenny's mask from your face, again, it leaves you feeling dizzy, but you ball your hands into fists and will the muzzyness away. The feeling of Summer's clothes on your frame and her panties on your manhood is alien, but you don't linger at the sensation. Instead, you put your hand on Hannah's temple and pry the mask away to reveal Jenny under it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit</i>, you feel Lisa slowly stirring.<br/>
<br/>
''Cock...'', Lisa snarls at you, as soon as she regains full capacity of her mental faculty, but before she can finish or to make a comment on your current state, you jam Hannah's mask on her. After what seems like an eternity, you take a deep breath and put Summer's mask on your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center"><i>***</i></div><br/>
<br/>
''I'm so sorry, Jenny. I'm so sorry.'', you meekly shake Jenny as you see her regaining consciousness. <br/>
<br/>
''What was that?'', Jenny looks at you groggily. <br/>
<br/>
''Oh, I'm so sorry,'' you just blubber at this point, using Summer's sorry demeanour to milk Jenny's emotion. '' It must be that stupid mask from drama production.''<br/>
<br/>
Hannah gives her a guilty look as she helps you to pull Jenny up to her legs. The firm, strong calves wobble ever so slightly. ''We're just thinking of getting your opinion on our acting.'' <i>Damn Lisa</i>, you curse silently. <br/>
<br/>
''Well, it was very convincing to me.'', Jenny mutters, but she doesn't press any further into that. So you start to divert the conversation to other things, trying very much to refrain from doing anything that's un-Summer-like, instead, motioning for the golem to take charge of the conversation. The three of you spend some time gossiping with each other, although mostly the topic revolves around your relationship with Chris, before eventually Kyle comes over and the two of them drive away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Back in the library, you didn't have time to properly admire Jenny's form, so you decided to make good on that. Excusing yourself early from dinner, you lock the door to Summer's room and draw the curtains closed.Sitting up on the bed, across the conveniently placed wardrobe mirror you take Summer's mask off and press Jenny's mask to your face. <br/>
<br/>
Jenny's direct, piercing eyes looks at you from the mirror. You smile and she smiles, tightly at first, but you force yourself to relax and soon the reflection looks at you warmly. Long, dirty blonde hair with its loose curls falls across your face as you stands up and you pull it back. As if by instinct, you search expectantly for a hair tie, to fashion your hair into a ponytail, just like how the real Jenny would. However, you stop yourself, she looks more attractive this way.<br/>
<br/>
Turning from side to side, Jenny's strong face looks healthy and fresh, aside from the small area of bruising around the eyes. A reminder of your altercations. With that done, you slowly disrobe yourself. You cup appreciatively the opulent, yet firm breasts. Your nipples tingle as your brush over them. Your hands traces her tummy. It's shapely and taut, with a hint of abdominal muscle. <br/>
<br/>
''Summer.'', a squeak comes from the other side of the door and you almost gasp out loud from the surprise. ''Do you want to play Mario Kart with me?''<br/>
<br/>
That'd be Danny. Summer's 10 year old kid brother. <br/>
<br/>
You scramble to draw on Summer's panties and PJ set. The kind Summer wears at home. Before switching into Summer's mask again and hiding Jenny's mask inside a drawer.<br/>
<br/>
Even as you intentionally allow yourself to be beaten by Danny at Mario Kart, a single thought remains in your mind. It appears that your cock-up with Lisa Rickover is not all bad.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211121122222
author_id: seuzz
title: A Confederacy of Dumbasses
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Then I think I'd better stay like this, for a little while," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I want you out of that mask," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Then you have to do a favor for me," you reply. "Remember, my friend Keith is expecting to hook up with a very ... <i>pliant</i> Summer Nguyen.<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you, and then sucks in a sharp breath. "No way."<br/>
<br/>
"Then let me stay on as Lisa Rickover for awhile," you reply. "And I'll give Keith some excuse."<br/>
<br/>
She wavers a moment, then relents. "A week," she says. "Then you move someplace else."<br/>
<br/>
"Deal." You extend your hand. After a moment's hesitation, she takes it. "Partners, then," you continue as you hold her hand. "I'll help you screw with Alyssa. In return, you don't make trouble for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't make trouble for <i>me</i> with that thing," she says, and points to your face. "I might want to go back, enjoy the view I've made for a little while."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and after that the two of you talk a little more about the social scene at Eastman. Then you part for the night.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your "bargain" notwithstanding, you don't fully trust Lisa. And since you're inside her head, you feel you have good reason not to. There's a lot of anger inside her--for reasons you can't quite fathom--and she seems like the type to cause trouble just for the sheer delight of it. <br/>
<br/>
That evening, after finishing homework, you relax in the bathtub, where you let Lisa's mind run through various scenarios. Most of them center on Alyssa and Chris Yves. You're pretty sure Lisa will enjoy being in Chris's company, but you doubt she will simply relax there. You suspect she will squeeze extra "fun" out of the situation by putting Chris through an emotional wringer, playing up Summer's neediness and uncertainty and shyness. She'll want to send Chris jumping through hoops in order to maintain a relationship with Summer. Such behavior will probably also exasperate Alyssa, who is so broadminded that she would probably force people into same-sex relationships just to establish precedents.<br/>
<br/>
As for Alyssa: The head cheerleader at Eastman likes to run things just as much as Chelsea likes to run things at Westside, but with a "benevolent" attitude. Lisa--the cynic--is unimpressed, and finds Alyssa's charity self-serving. There are so many ways she would like to screw with Alyssa, but they fall into two broad types: Stopping Alyssa from getting what she wants; and giving Alyssa exactly what she wants--good and hard, too.<br/>
<br/>
In the former category, naturally, falls the idea of upending her projects, both spoken and unspoken. Projects like making sure Summer and Chris get together, keeping the basketball team happy and functional, and stopping the troublemakers from stirring things up. <br/>
<br/>
Troublemakers. Lisa is too perceptive not to know that that class includes herself. It also includes Lawrence Farmer, a busybody and gossip who has been Alyssa's social rival since middle school, at least. Jessica Pearce is another person she keeps ostracized. (You've no idea what Alyssa has against her fellow cheerleader.) She would like to put a leash on the randier males at school. That was a full-time job when it was just Adam Karter. Since Joe Durras showed up a few weeks ago, it's slipped entirely out of control. <br/>
<br/>
As for making sure Alyssa gets what she wants ... That's been more of a theoretical field of amusement for Lisa than a practical one. She's wondered if Alyssa's schemes, even if pulled off perfectly, would really rebound to the happiness of their intended beneficiaries, and what Alyssa would make of it if they didn't. <br/>
<br/>
You sink lower in the tub. The water was scalding hot when you got in, and turned your new, alabaster skin almost lobster-pink. It is still very warm, and all your nerves are pleasantly numb. But you'd really like a cigarette. You can't smoke at home.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Unintended consequences.</i> If Lisa is using her brain the way you're using it, she's reflecting that, with the ability to pull off a perfect disguise, she would be able to <i>bring about</i> those unintended consequences. That, after all, is more or less what you're thinking when you reflect that Lisa (as Summer) could just as easily make Chris Yves miserable as happy. Other ways of doing it: "Solving" the Hannah-Jordan problem in a way that ruptures the camaraderie of the basketball team. Or preserving that camaraderie by forcing certain key players into vexatious relationships. You cover your mouth to stifle a giggle: Keeping Joe Durras and Jessica Pearce out of trouble by putting them together, and thereby creating a potent "king-and-consort" rival to Kyle and Jenny, who are Alyssa's best buddies.<br/>
<br/>
All this scheming is almost shamefully pleasant, and soon your fingers are rubbing a spot between your legs. Lisa is almost certainly doing the same as Summer; she was practically doing it at The Crystal Cave this afternoon. You're interrupted before you get too far, though, by a hard knock at the door. "Are you almost done?" It's the voice of Rob, Lisa's college-age brother, who really ought to be at the house he shares with four roommates, but who has taken refuge at the house of his parents thanks to some stupid fight or other.<br/>
<br/>
"Go away," you bark back.<br/>
<br/>
He says something sharp in reply, but you ignore him. <i>Idiot.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You know a guy named Rob Rickover," you ask bluntly as soon as the door opens. <br/>
<br/>
Aubrey Blackwell blinks, and his expression turns frosty. "Ah. I do beg your pardon, miss. Perhaps you should introduce yourself first."<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa Rickover," you say, and thrust out your hand. "But you can call me Will Prescott." You try to move past him, but he remains obdurately blocking the door. "Come on, Caleb, I know it's you, and I just told you who I am."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, William," he says in a nasty tone. "How good to see you again. And suppose I told you that I am the <i>real</i> Aubrey Blackwell, returned from regions best not spoken of?"<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes freeze and your jaw drops. Luckily for your peace of mind, Caleb himself appears a moment later behind the person at the door. "Jesus, Caleb, will you tell this asshole to let me in?" you explode. "It's me, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, Dr. Pearbutt," Caleb says. "One aside for my friend." <br/>
<br/>
"You told me to act like the real professor," the golem says as it steps aside.<br/>
<br/>
"Not with my friends," Caleb retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"It comes from calling him things like 'Dr. Pearbutt,'" you mutter as you step inside. "The thing is just <i>looking</i> for an excuse to act up." Caleb just shrugs. "Is Keith here yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's in the library," Caleb says, and looks past you. "Isn't there supposed to be another girl with you? It's all he's been talking about."<br/>
<br/>
"It'll have to wait. Mind if I smoke? It's been a day and a half." Caleb frowns, so you leave the cigarettes in your purse. "I thought you'd be wearing that thing." You jerk your chin at Blackwell. "Or have you found a new face?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I've got two faces picked out, but I haven't scored them yet." He leads you into the library; looking at it with fresh eyes, you are impressed again by how creepy it is. The decor isn't improved by Keith's presence. "I've also had a couple of masks disappear on me," Caleb adds dryly.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry about that. But did you get some new ones made up?" <br/>
<br/>
"Keith brought the book over, so I was going to make some. We were just waiting on you."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. I've got some allies out at Eastman, so we can get through the polishing more quickly."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, where's that girl you were being," Keith pipes up. "The one I'm supposed to get it on with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Something came up," you say evasively. "You're just going to have to wait."<br/>
<br/>
"But you promised! And if she's a golem now you can just order her to--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't whine, Keith. It's really unattractive. It's complicated. Eastman is complicated."<br/>
<br/>
"How?" Keith folds his arms.<br/>
<br/>
"None of your business. How are you doing at Westside?"<br/>
<br/>
"None of your business," he retorts truculently. He doesn't relent, but he can't resist bragging. "I got anima bands on Jeremy and Cassie, so I just need masks now."<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's get started." You lead them up to the workroom, and inside of an hour--which seems longer because of Keith's surliness--you have nine masks made up. Three for each of you. You take four of them, since you've got four people who can work on the masks--you yourself, Lisa, and Dana and Sarah Pak. Keith also takes four, leaving Caleb with one to finish up.<br/>
<br/>
He asks how the anima bands are working out. You shrug. "They got me where I wanted to be. Haven't you used yours yet?"<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. "To be honest, I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened with you and Keith."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus. Well, I guess I can take them off of the two girls I used them on." <i>They might prove useful elsewhere,</i> you reflect. "Oh, except I want them to do this polishing for us." You glance at your watch. "I should get home."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want to check out the next spell while we're all here?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "It can wait a week, when we get back together with the polished masks."<br/>
<br/>
And that's the end. As you drive off, though, you reflect that maybe you should move the anima bands off Dana and Sarah and onto new people. Slaves are slaves, and Dana and Sarah don't seem that useful anymore.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112111211222222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Dating Game
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You do stop by the Pak residence, but one look at Dana's ingenuous face is enough to change your mind about removing the mind bands. The shrewd thought forms that Dana and her sister are well placed to gather intelligence without raising any suspicions. Instead, you just give her two masks, with directions for her and Sarah to polish them up.<br/>
<br/>
She makes a face. "I'm not your slave, you know," she pouts.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm polishing one too," you retort. "So is everyone."<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on?" she asks. "I feel totally out of the loop here. Shouldn't I be trying to get inside some college student?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what <i>Caleb</i> is trying to do," you remind her. "You're just his shadow."<br/>
<br/>
"You'll never convince <i>me</i> of that," she replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Just stick to what you know," you say, "which is being Dana Pak. It's not bad, right?" She shrugs. "If you want some fun, keep your ear to the ground, for anything about Alyssa Randall and Chris Yves."<br/>
<br/>
The side of her mouth goes up in a grin. "Oh, really?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not like that," you snap. "Independently."<br/>
<br/>
"I could start a rumor about them."<br/>
<br/>
"I might ask you to. But not that rumor. Not now," you add thoughtfully. That's where you leave things, and go home, where you start polishing up a mask yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You have a date last night," you ask Summer in a teasing voice the next morning at her locker.<br/>
<br/>
She looks over in a panic. "Why? What did you hear?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's <i>me,</i> Summer," you smile. "One of your friends. Whatever you can tell anyone else, you can tell me."<br/>
<br/>
"Alyssa says I shouldn't talk to you," she says, and leans into her locker to hide a giggle.<br/>
<br/>
"You shouldn't take presents from me either, but I got something for you." You turn your body to hide the transfer as you hand her one of the blank masks. She gasps in excitement. "Calm down. You have to do some work on it first." You describe how to polish a mask. "It'll take you a couple of days, even at a couple of hours a day."<br/>
<br/>
She looks up at you, but before she can reply her eyes go wide. Her expression tells you who has just tapped you on the shoulder. "Hi Alyssa."<br/>
<br/>
Firmly she pushes you aside so she can speak to Summer. "I thought I'd walk you to class," she tells the girl.<br/>
<br/>
You stand watching them just long enough to make the moment awkward before announcing, "I guess I'll take off then. I've got people to talk to too." Your eyes briefly meet Alyssa's as you turn and glide off.<br/>
<br/>
"People to talk to" means Lawrence Farmer, with whom you share the next class. "Who do you think would make Alyssa happy?" you ask him, leaning forward to mutter in his ear.<br/>
<br/>
He turns around in his seat, and his face turns pink in a way that camouflages his numerous freckles and seems to light a fire beneath his carrot-red hair. "Who or what?" he asks with an insolent giggle.<br/>
<br/>
"Both. You know what I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"I bet I know how you mean, too. But doesn't Alyssa share her fantasies with <i>you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't be asking if she did."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why should I tell you what I know," he retorts. "I can tell you who <i>wouldn't</i> make her happy, and that's Ian Carpenter," he adds in a nasty tone.<br/>
<br/>
"I should tell her you said that." He makes a face at your threat. "But come on. I think you owe me after some of the stuff I've spilled to <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
His lip curls. "I don't even know why she even lets you hang around, since you can't see what's as plain as the nose on your face."<br/>
<br/>
You bridle; Lisa is self-conscious about the size of her nose. "You know why. She'd rather have me on the inside pissing out than on the outside pissing in. She's smart that way. Smarter than you if you don't see how it's better to keep me happy than make me unhappy."<br/>
<br/>
He glowers at you before turning around. You slump back in your seat. But evidently your words have had some effect. He turns back around. "A wink is as good as a nudge to some people. You think Alyssa is on the debate team because she likes to argue and go to meets?"<br/>
<br/>
"I assume it was because it would look good on her transcript for college."<br/>
<br/>
"Then maybe she just found a <i>dividend</i> on that college prep." He turns back around."<br/>
<br/>
"What would I see if I took a good hard look at the debate team?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," he says loftily. "But you might <i>hear</i> about things that happened--or didn't happen--on the team's last trip."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The debate team. That's seven guys and three girls. You can rule out Cooper Black, Andrew Dawson and Hector Armijo as guys Alyssa is interested in: They already have girlfriends (and Cooper is dating Faye Griffin, who is also a member of the debate team), and Alyssa isn't the type to come between a girl and her guy. Hunter Bradshaw is nothing to look at, and he's also got a girlfriend. That leaves Frank Durras, Geoff Duhnolm, and Eddie Wasnowski. Eddie likes to play the field, and Alyssa probably wouldn't be chasing a guy with that kind of reputation. So Lawrence must be referring to either Frank and Geoff.<br/>
<br/>
Your mind--never much caught by the subject of world history--drifts away from the lecture to think about those two. You don't know Durras well. He and his younger brother, Joe, joined the school only a few weeks ago. They are a contrasting pair: They are both seniors, and it can't be that Joe skipped a grade--he's the biggest moron you've ever run across. But Frank--who is tall and lithe and dark and looks out at the world through a piercing set of eyes--is quite intelligent in addition to being a fine athlete.<br/>
<br/>
Hmm. <i>An athlete.</i> He's on the basketball team. There is no way that Alyssa would be chasing a basketball player when she's trying to discourage the affections of the captain of the basketball team. That leaves Geoff.<br/>
<br/>
Who is also tall and dark and very smart. He is also the head of the drama club. It wouldn't surprise you if Alyssa had a thing for Geoff. Lots of girls have chased him at one time or another without catching him.<br/>
<br/>
There's no point in approaching Geoff directly for confirmation. If something happened--or didn't happen--it's best to hit up Faye Griffin for news.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But Faye isn't talking, at least not to you. You catch up to her on the way to lunch but she brushes you off rudely when you broach the subject of the trip. Instead, to your mystification, she finds Dunholm and goes off to talk privately with him. This leaves you frowning. Shouldn't she be with her boyfriend, Cooper? And then the penny drops. The "something" probably has to do with the two of them. Playing a shrewd hunch, you go looking for Eddie.<br/>
<br/>
He's all toothy cheer when you slide onto a seat next to him in the cafeteria, and grins when you ask him about the debate trip. "Alyssa must've given you the boring version," he sniggers.<br/>
<br/>
"Just shut up about it," Bobby Stafford says. Several of his other friends also groan. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and I don't like boring stories," you say. "If you can tell these guys--" which obviously he has "--you can tell me."<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing happened, and everything happened," he replies. He bites on his thumbnail and ignores the others. "So, Faye and Alyssa were sharing a room. That was the assignment. Geoff and Cooper were sharing another room. But after Cussler checked up on everyone, Faye and Geoff switched, so Faye and Cooper could be together."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." Your eyebrows go up.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. But nothing happened. Except Faye and Cooper wound up in a big fight, and Faye ran back to Alyssa. Which was all for the best, because <i>Ann Sibley,</i> who was rooming with Cussler--" He makes a gagging noise. "She knew what was up and 'accidentally' let it slip. So she did a surprise check, but didn't find anything." He laughs. <br/>
<br/>
"Why would Ann say anything about Faye and Cooper," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Little fucking prude," Bobby snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing prudish about Ann," Eddie says. "She screams when she cums. Or maybe she just does that with <i>me.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Could you make <i>me</i> scream," you challenge him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I could tell you that's all I'm going to tell you," he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
You make a sour face. "Bet you told Lawrence all about this, though," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Ha! You should be nicer to Lawrence."<br/>
<br/>
"I bet Lawrence could make <i>you</i> scream," you say, and leave before he can frame a retort.<br/>
<br/>
You go around to the back of the school so you can have a cigarette and a moment to think. Lawrence knows you were asking about Alyssa, so he probably wasn't alluding to the "nothing" between Cooper and Faye when he talked about something that "didn't happen." He must have meant that their fight had the effect of also interrupting something between Alyssa and Geoff.<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa and Geoff. It makes sense from whichever angle you examine it from. You grin as you suck on the cigarette. It really is too bad that Alyssa didn't get caught by Cussler; that would have been quite a scandal. But Ann told her too late.<br/>
<br/>
You blink. Ann. She's another one of the cheerleaders. Why would she queer things for Alyssa?<br/>
<br/>
You gasp. Unless <i>she</i> also has a thing for Geoff.<br/>
<br/>
You scratch the side of your nose. Geoff and Ann . Two places you might use to help Lisa get at Alyssa ...</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121112112222222
author_id: seuzz
title: Too Many Friends
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Ann, you decide, will be your new hiding place. In and of herself, she combines brains and athleticism, as she is both on the cheerleading squad and is one of the AP girls. She is also pretty: a petite, compact red-head. She is also fairly intense and seems hyper-competitive. That gives you slight pause: you wonder what is going on inside her head to give her that air. Maybe it's only that she's a senior, and is trying very hard to excel in her last year so as to have a leg up on college applications. But it'll be a few days before you can make any such move.<br/>
<br/>
Or, at least, that's what you think until you get a text message from Caleb, telling you to come out to Blackwell's after school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It is Blackwell who opens the door. You cock an eyebrow. "Caleb or golem?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces. "I am obliged to be truthful with you," he says in a sulky tone. "Your friend is within. O Great and Imperious One," he calls into the house in a way that lets you hear the capital letters in the address. "You have a visitor."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes, and for a moment actually feel sorry for the carbon copy of your late mentor.<br/>
<br/>
A new figure appears in the hallway, but it isn't Caleb. It's a tall, well-shaped guy with chestnut hair and a faintly supercilious expression on his face. He's casually but tastefully dressed in a polo shirt and cream-colored slacks, and he seems to lounge (hand in pockets) even as he strides forward to greet you. "Will," he says with a curt nod. "Good to see you again."<br/>
<br/>
"Finally scored yourself someone, huh," you say. "What's the alias?"<br/>
<br/>
"Patrick Sawyer," he says, and holds out his hand. You take it. His grip is firm and lingering, and a gleam forms in his eye. You have to pull your hand away from him in order to retrieve it. "You like?"<br/>
<br/>
"He seems like an asshole, but a good-looking one, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Dylan helped me pick him out. You know my cousin Dylan?" You shake your head. "He goes to Keyserling. I ran into him two nights ago, while aiming at someone else, and asked who some of the rich fucks were at the school. You know, guys with money and looks and connections. There's a whole house full of them, it turns out, and Patrick was actually taking one of Blackwell's classes." He brushes his hair to the side in a manner that looks like a tic. "I got Patrick today, gonna get another guy he houses with, then go looking for some female flesh."<br/>
<br/>
It would sound grotesque no matter how it were phrased, but coming out of this guy's mouth it sounds particularly perverted. You're about to say something waspish when another voice calls from another room deeper in the house. "What's going on out there?"<br/>
<br/>
It was Caleb's voice, and a moment later Caleb himself appears from around a corner. He holds a half-polished mask in his hand. "I have my golem working on a new mask," Patrick says with a tight smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit," Caleb retorts. "Will, it's me."<br/>
<br/>
You look between them. "Oh God, not this again. Which one of you is the real Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"I am," Caleb and Patrick say in unison. "Shut up," Caleb snarls, and shoves Patrick. Patrick shoves him back, and being bigger and stronger he shoves him back in a way that leaves Caleb stumbling. "Blackwell," Caleb howls. "Tell him who's boss!"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't fully understand what is going on," the fake professor says, "but--"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright," Patrick sighs. "I really am Caleb, but my stupid professor is going to say otherwise."<br/>
<br/>
The light finally goes on over your head. "You used an anima band on Patrick!"<br/>
<br/>
"Smart <i>and</i> beautiful," Patrick snorts. He looks you up and down openly. "Not being a golem, I'm allowed to lie."<br/>
<br/>
"You actually want to be this <i>jerk?</i>" you demand of Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"He's not so bad," your friend says defensively. "You should see his bank balance. And he gets laid regularly." Patrick smirks.<br/>
<br/>
"But he's an asshole."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be nicer once I'm in a mask of him."<br/>
<br/>
"You've already got your own personality inside him, and look how he's acting!" Caleb blinks at your outburst. "Oh, fine. So what's this meeting about? Is Keith coming over too?"<br/>
<br/>
"He should be along in a bit," Patrick says on Caleb's behalf. "I got inside Sawyer and instantly figured out a way to speed up the polishing process." Again, he brushes his hair in a complacent way.<br/>
<br/>
"He'll be bringing the fake me along too," Caleb adds while giving Patrick a dirty look. "My alter ego here has a buffer. You know, the things you use put a shine onto cars?" He holds up the mask, which is almost completely blue. "Only takes an hour or so to do each mask. I almost got this one done."<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome," you exclaim. "I should bring all my masks over here, then." Caleb nods. You look at Patrick. "And we can get rid of this guy this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
A furtive look crosses Patrick's face. "And what'll happen to <i>me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" Caleb asks. "I'll <i>be</i> you."<br/>
<br/>
"I already <i>am</i> Patrick Sawyer," Patrick retorts.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb starts to reply, but you pre-empt him. "Caleb will put the anima band on someone else. You'll be fine." You give Caleb a meaningful glance, and after a moment's hesitation, he nods. <br/>
<br/>
But Patrick grunts. "Seems like a lot of duplicate effort. We should just get Jon out here and you can take over for him. That's who you were going for next, isn't it? Tellman?" <br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks vexed, but just then the doorbell rings. Blackwell, who has been watching and listening with obvious bemusement, opens the door, and Cassie Harper peers in. "Oh wow, lots of people," she giggles. "I guess I'm kind of late, but better late than never, you know. So, who is who?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's me, Keith. Will."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Caleb," Caleb and Patrick say, again in unison. And again, there's a shoving match.<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb is being himself," you say, and pull the new arrival in over the doorstep. "He's put an anima band on this other guy. Call them Caleb and <i>Patrick</i> if you don't want to go mad."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, wow again, like those anima bands. They are so amazing," Cassie gasps. "Like, I got one onto Cassie here, and then I was totally inside her. Though not in <i>that</i> way, you know." She giggles again. "Well, kind of in that way." Another giggle as she clasps tiny hands over her tiny breasts. "I guess it's kind of a dirty thing to do, you know, playing with a girl's body when you're not really--"<br/>
<br/>
Chatterbox Cassie. Caleb shuts her up, though. "Where's my golem," he demands. "I told you to bring the fake me along."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Oh. Right. I guess he'll be along in a bit." She turns pink. "Keith will be bringing him out. I guess. Maybe there was a bit of confusion, because when you said that you wanted <i>me</i> to come out--"<br/>
<br/>
"The fake Keith," you ask. "The golem?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I haven't made a golem up yet, you know, because after I got the anima band onto Cassie--"<br/>
<br/>
The door is still open, and you look over her head to see Keith and another Caleb Johansson coming up the front walk. Keith is staring at Cassie's back with a confused look on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Keith?" you ask in a loud voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?" Keith and Cassie say in unison. She jumps the sound from behind, and spins about in a slightly guilty way. <br/>
<br/>
You plant your hands on Cassie's shoulders and close your eyes. "Keith," you say. "Are you wearing a mask of Cassie Harper, or did you just put an anima band on her?"<br/>
<br/>
"I put one of those band things on her," Keith says. "I didn't have time to make up a mask." You open your eyes again to find Keith looking down at Cassie with a frown. "What are <i>you</i> doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, when you told me that Caleb called and wanted us to come out here--" she starts.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say he wanted <i>us,</i>" Keith says. "I said he wanted <i>me</i> to come out."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Keith too," Cassie says in a low voice.<br/>
<br/>
Keith's eyes go wide. "Look, don't argue," you tell him. "Have you got a blank mask with you?" He pats his bag. "Good. Let's just get everything rearranged."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Against your better judgment, you leave Cassie and Patrick and golem-Blackwell and golem-Caleb downstairs while you and Caleb and Keith go up to the workroom, and over the course of an hour polish up the mask that Keith has brought. The three of you also discuss the problems you've discovered with the anima bands. "Gonna be kind of awkward with Jeremy," Keith observes. "I've got a band on <i>him,</i> too."<br/>
<br/>
"Worry about it, later," you say. "Let's just get rid of Cassie and Patrick."<br/>
<br/>
Despite your fears, you are able to get the bands off the bodies of your friends' designated victims; then masks get made and swapped about. The real Cassie disappears under Keith's mask; the real Patrick vanishes under Caleb's; and your friends don their new identities. It's agreed that the anima bands will be hidden away at Blackwell's; but you'll leave the two you put on the Pak sisters in place.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you girls stay out for the evening?" the new Patrick Sawyer says. "I could take you back to my place, introduce you to some guys." You give him a look, and he laughs. "Or we could check out the next spell, since we're all here."</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211121122222222
author_id: seuzz
title: Set up for a Farce
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You look at Caleb: Maybe you're just being cynical; or maybe it's just a natural look that settles on Patrick's face; but there's a gleam in his eye you don't like. "Let's save it for the weekend," you say. "We'll have more time."<br/>
<br/>
"You're no fun," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Save it for one of the co-eds," you retort. Keith giggles in a very Cassie-like way.<br/>
<br/>
After you leave Blackwell's, you call Summer. "You've been avoiding me," you purr when she picks up. "Let's get together at The Crystal Cave."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't," she says in her soft voice. "I have a date."<br/>
<br/>
"What about afterward?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know how long I'll be out."<br/>
<br/>
Too many people are having "fun" while you're not. "Fine. Tell me about it tomorrow," you grumble. "How's that mask coming along?"<br/>
<br/>
"Slow."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, bring it to school tomorrow. We found a way to make the job go faster."<br/>
<br/>
"Does that mean you'll be moving into a new person soon?"<br/>
<br/>
She hasn't lost sight of her own goals, you note. "Yes. That's another reason to get together and talk."<br/>
<br/>
"Then maybe tomorrow. It'll have to be after school, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever." You hang up, feeling irritated.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning, as you're walking into the school, you get a text from Summer warning you to avoid her during the day; she'll just get together with you at The Crystal Cave after school. This will probably be your last full day as Lisa Rickover, so you decide to take advantage of it by snooping things out from Geoff Dunholm's end: If Ann really is interested in him, it'll be awkward sounding him out from her vantage point. His locker is a little out of your way, but not so much so that your showing up there will look odd. You find him conversing with Frank Durras. <br/>
<br/>
"I hope I'm not interrupting a fight," you say with light mockery as you slip in between them. They give you almost identical looks of puzzlement. "Oh, that's right, on the debate team you call them 'arguments.'"<br/>
<br/>
Geoff grunts. "We were just talking about the meet."<br/>
<br/>
"Is Cussler pissed at you and Alyssa?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why would she be? We won our match."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean about the roommate thing."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes freeze, and briefly flick over your head at Durras. "Nothing about the roommate arrangements should have pissed her off," he says in a careful tone. <br/>
<br/>
"I guess that's true," you reply. "What about Ann?"<br/>
<br/>
"What about her?" His manner becomes even frostier.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was just wondering if--"<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta get to the other side of the school before the bell rings," he snaps as he slams his locker shut. "You can talk to Alyssa about things, if you want."<br/>
<br/>
You frown at his retreating back. Probably he can feel your eyes on him. And then you feel eyes on the back of your own head. You turn to look up into Frank's face. "What's this about Ann and roommates and stuff," he asks you quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Before you can answer, a blonde head pops up from around Frank's shoulder: his brother, Joe. "Fuckin' Feydeau, Frank," he grins. "I wasn't even there, and <i>I</i> heard the bedsprings. Ka-boing, ka-boing, ka-boing!" He laughs.<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks between you and his brother with a frown. "Then you can enlighten me later." With a snort he follows Geoff into the crowd, leaving you alone with his idiot sibling.<br/>
<br/>
"So you heard all about it," you say to Joe.<br/>
<br/>
"Not from Frank," he chortles. "I left a condom out once, and <i>he</i> thought it was a party balloon!"<br/>
<br/>
"And what <i>did</i> you hear about all that?"<br/>
<br/>
His expression turns puckish, and he leans in on you. "If it's something juicy you want to hear and share, I got a bit for you. Me and Becky." He taps his chest and looks very smug.<br/>
<br/>
"You and Becky," you laugh. "You're definitely a match."<br/>
<br/>
He looks offended. "What's wrong with me and Becky?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say there was anything wrong. It's just a predictable match."<br/>
<br/>
"If you think it's so funny--"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"You care enough to laugh at me," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me about Ann Sibley," you challenge him. <i>If he's heard anything, this side trip might not have been such a waste.</i><br/>
<br/>
But he just frowns and blinks. "What about Ann?"<br/>
<br/>
"Then I guess you don't know anything, really. Food for thought," you add dismissively. "Don't sprain anything while chewing on it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You do pass on Joe's boast to the rest of the Rumorati, and Alyssa growls furiously over it at lunch: Becky Torres is one of the cheerleaders, and she doesn't want Joe Durras messing with any of her girls' heads. Her anger cheers you, and you look over to catch Summer's eye, and only then notice that she's not at the table. She must be off with Chris Yves.<br/>
<br/>
She confirms your deduction later that afternoon. "We had our first fight last night," she smiles as she smokes. "I ran off in tears. She spent the day making me feel loved and appreciated."<br/>
<br/>
"I wish I could have seen," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Not from <i>there,</i>" she says, and shoots you a piercing glance. "I gave you that mask. When can you move?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tonight. I have a playdate with my new home." She raises an eyebrow. "Ann Sibley."<br/>
<br/>
"Why Ann?" she asks, and leans back with the kind of skeptical look on her face that you've never seen Summer wear. You explain your suspicions, and she nods approvingly when you're finished. "Want me to make trouble for you? For Ann, I mean? I could tell Alyssa that I heard Ann is interested in Geoff and that's why she told Cussler about the room switch."<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you want to make trouble for me?" you ask in some alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"Because it would make trouble for Alyssa," she says impatiently. "Having to worry about <i>another</i> cheerleader. Yeah," she laughs, "I heard what you passed on about Joe and Becky. God, that's so predictable."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course, that's what <i>I</i> said too. But don't make trouble for Ann. Not yet."<br/>
<br/>
"I think I will anyway." She stubs out the cigarette. "It would make trouble for <i>me</i> too. Alyssa doesn't much like it that Summer is trying to get mixed up in business."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why does she let her--you--hang around?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's being <i>motherly,</i>" she says acidly. "So, do I get to go out with you to see these masks get finished?" You demur, but she insists. Until you tell her that Keith might be there, that is. <i>That</i> causes her to quickly drop the idea.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"God, you're so pale," Lisa Rickover says haughtily as she buttons up her blouse. "Didn't you get any sun over the summer?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm a red-head," you sulkily reply. "I burn easily. And why aren't you dressed yet? I was out for nearly ten minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"I was looking at you," she says. She pops the last button into place, and then darts out to touch a spot on your thigh. "I like pale legs."<br/>
<br/>
You slap her hand away. "You got what you came over here for, Lisa," you say. "Or, I guess, <i>I</i> did. You can go away now." She just smirks. "Don't be difficult."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Last day before the weekend, and then we can all hang out."<br/>
<br/>
You lock bedroom the door after she's gone. Lisa, dammit, had had the presence of mind to drag from you all the details about golems and how they work, and had insisted on pulling Summer's mask off long enough to give you some of her own hair to use in golemizing her own mask. You'd have preferred to keep "Lisa" under your own control, but had decided to go along with her. Then you'd taken a side trip back to Blackwell's where used the buffer to polish up a mask before heading over to Ann's. And now here you: Ann Sibley.<br/>
<br/>
You don't dress yet, and instead open up the closet door so you can examine yourself in the full-length mirror. You are very small and very pale. Your boobs are smallish and pointed like pears. A little layer of baby fat covers your muscles. Your fingers are cold--it's chilly in the bedroom--so you resist the desire to touch and explore, though you do spread your legs wide enough to get a good look at the dark little tuft. You bite your lip, and look up to see the worried look on your face. <i>Yes, Ann wants Geoff.</i> It's worse than that. She very much wants it to be him when she does it for the first time, and she <i>really</i> wants to be his first as well.<br/>
<br/>
With a sigh you get dressed again, in the pink cotton panties and the jeans and the t-shirt. Even though it's cold, you leave the socks and shoes off, and instead curl up in the chair at your desk and massage your bare feet as you wake the laptop. Geoff Dunholm's face fills the screen. <i>Girl has it bad.</i><br/>
<br/>
The world goes out of a focus as you lose yourself in a reverie. Ann has never had the guts to really make a play for Geoff, and your own native desires don't really put a fire under her own resolve. Ann's own dislike of Lisa also leaves you feeling cold about continuing the scheme. Your spirits sink lower and lower. How did you come to drift into this position?<br/>
<br/>
You're pulled back into the present by a call from the front of the house. You wander out into the living room in answer to the summons, and pull up in shock at who is waiting in the living room.<br/>
<br/>
It's Joe Durras. His grin is bright. "Hey Ann. What are you doing tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, God! When you mentioned Ann to him, he must have thought that--</i></span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112111212
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: Take Carrie Carmichael
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>''Why'd you want to take Christina ?'', Sarah's words pry you away from the thoughts swirling inside your head. ''I mean she's alright like'', Sarah adjusts her top, ''but she's graduating in a few months....'', she lets her sentence hangs for you to think of the implications of such eventuality. <br/>
<br/>
''I know that'', you say rather irritably, not because of her remarks, but about the whole thing Eastman thing. ''But replacing a fifteen year old girl?!'', you look at Sarah. <br/>
<br/>
''Sixteen.'', Sarah quips, ''Bit of a late starter... that's what she told me anyway.''<br/>
<br/>
''Fine, sixteen.'', you interject. The two of you spend some time arguing about the finer points of putting Carrie under a mask, obviously, you are rather reluctant while Sarah seems to be rather persuasive about the matter. Freshman year wasn't exactly the greatest time in your high school life, but to think of it again, your high school life is all about dealing with bullies, assholes and homeworks on a daily basis, until you discover the Book. To redo the whole thing over isn't exactly the most appealing course of action. Although you can't deny there's a part of you that's curious if there's anything more to high school and from your brief time in Yumi and Cindy, you know there are more to it.<br/>
<br/>
''Give this Carrie girl a call then...'', you sigh. Grabbing your own phone to update Dana on your new plan. She seems relieved somehow at your change of plan and offers to take you and Sarah in her car. <br/>
<br/>
''See you in fifteen?'', you raise your voice loud enough for Sarah to pick it up and hopefully integrate it to your plan.<br/>
<br/>
''I'm heading back now.''<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
''Looking good.'', Dana smirks as she put her hands on your shoulders. Sarah nods in agreement. As you primps and poses in front of the mirror, the Yumi persona gives an approval as well. After all, a cheerleader should try to look her best at all times and considering you only have Dana's and Sarah's wardrobe to pilfer and choose from, the choice of dark blue crotchet top, fitted high waist jeans and pumps sealed your casual look. You spent a considerable amount of time refreshing yourself too.<br/>
<br/>
''Let's go, we don't want to keep them waiting too long.'', Sarah smirks. By 'them', she meant Carrie Carmichael herself and her two hangers-on, Marissa King and Patricia Jennings. Although you've never met them, you picture them not unlike Gloria and Kendra back in Westside. Ready to pounce when the Queen shows any signs of weakness. ''Ugh, this is going to be such a pain.'', Sarah complains of her predicament in having to share a table with the hangers-on. She had already prepped you on how much of a cunt these girls are and from what she said, it seems that the feeling is mutual.<br/>
<br/>
You cast a last glance at the mirror before picking up the golemized mask of Will Prescott, a blank mask and the small bottle of sealant from your car before hopping in Dana's car to Panera, where your targets are located after their long day of shopping.<br/>
<br/>
The ride itself is somewhat uneventful, although you have to sit through, listening to things that Sarah and Dana are going to do to each other when they get back from this. <br/>
<br/>
''Is that... Chelsea?'', you jerk in your seat at Dana's mention of the name and frantically look around to find the cheerleader.<br/>
<br/>
And there she is, sitting outside the sandwich and pastry shop with Kendra and Gloria on tow, her usual clique. But you are quite surprised to see Cindy Vredenburg and Kim Walsh with them. <br/>
<br/>
''There's Carrie, and Marissa and Patricia <i>ugh</i>.'', Sarah motions to the inside of the shop and easily you can spot three girls, one of them looks strikingly similar to Chelsea. There's only a very slim chance of you being able to bypass the group of Westside seniors to reach the freshmen waiting for you. Dana pulls to a stop across the road, a few metres away from Panera. <br/>
<br/>
A barista approaches the group, trays on his hand and begins to unload some plates and glasses to the table. You groan, it's unlikely they're going to be quick now. But you don't want to delay the acquisition much longer. So you instructs Dana to give the real Yumi a call.<br/>
<br/>
''Mmm... Yumi? Where are you now?'', Dana starts the conversation. ''Uh uh yeah... right...''<br/>
<br/>
The conversation continues, but you are more interested in Cindy. She seems more fidgety than usual, the Yumi persona tells you. Then it finally hits you. Could Keith be already inside Cindy? Should you give him or rather, his golem if he's already inside Cindy a call just to confirm? Knowing it's Keith under the face of Cindy might your quest so much easier or if not, you can use Dana and Sarah to stall Kim for Keith to get her. Probably only Kim will be interested in spending time with some nobodies from Eastman, scratch that, Chelsea or Kendra might be too, just long enough to get some dirt on the latest happening in Eastman.<br/>
<br/>
You jerk again as something brush against your thighs, turning around, Sarah and Dana giggles. ''She's at home, she needs to prepare for a visit to Aunt Kiku's this weekend.''<br/>
<br/>
Sarah makes an expression of distaste, ''Can't we just not go to that?''<br/>
<br/>
''I'm not going there by myself.'', Dana says. ''And you know we can't both not go. 'sides, I'm sure we'll find something <i>fun </i>to do there.'', both of them giggle at that.<br/>
<br/>
You figure you should send Dana to Yumi's, just long enough to keep her away from the phone... and maybe, call Keith to take the real Yumi as well... Or you can just wing it and hope for the best...</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211122
author_id: rugal
title: Dana's choice of girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You look at Dana, then Sarah (who seems... preoccupied), then Dana again.  This Shawn guy seems good, however... "So," you begin, "Would there be ANY problems getting into Shawn?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well..." Dana starts.<br/>
<br/>
"Be honest." you state, "You said there'd be no problems but that pause kind of tells me otherwise."<br/>
<br/>
"The thing is, he's got a girlfriend.  Sarah White." she says.<br/>
<br/>
You give a small shrug.  "So what?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she's known to be pretty clingy." she explains, "She's a freshman and he's a senior so she can be kind of immature about the whole thing, especially after they, you know..." Dana makes a couple of motions with her hands indicating sex, "So if I try and lure him off that MIGHT cause a shitstorm that you'd be stuck dealing with."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd be stuck dealing with it too." Sarah suddenly chimes in, "Because she's going to tell Helen and complain to her and then Helen's going to complain to me and it's just all gonna be a big hassle."<br/>
<br/>
You make a face, not quite pleased with this development.  "That <i>does</i> sound like it could be a problem." you say, "So what about a girl?  That would be easier?"<br/>
<br/>
Dana nods.  "Definitely.  The both of us are friendly enough with enough of them that we could get them over here easily and make a switch with no problems."<br/>
<br/>
You cross your arms and let out a grunt, "I'd rather be a guy but if this would be the easiest thing, then I guess I'll take the female option."<br/>
<br/>
"So do you want to go with Alyssa?" asks Dana.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so." you say, declining the offer, "At least not right now.  Head cheerleader, has her neck in every nook and cranny of the school... even with her mind that might be overwhelming.  I need to get a good feel for Eastman and how it works before working my way up.  Take it slow, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's always one of us..." Dan says, trailing off.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I mean wouldn't you want to be inside me?" Sarah grins before adding, "Or maybe you'd like to be inside me in another way..."<br/>
<br/>
"God, knock it off." you say to her, "Maybe putting your anima into Sarah was a mistake, Keith. Sarah's immaturity and hormones plus your perverted mind probably isn't a good combination."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" she asks, "You're gonna leave it in my hands?"<br/>
<br/>
"I need a starting point, yeah." you nod.<br/>
<br/>
She thinks for a moment and then brightens up, "Alright, well get here immediately after school tomorrow.  My parents will be working so there should be no chance of getting caught when this happens so I'll bring someone for you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
You meet up with Keith at school the next day.  The jocks and people in their general inner circle still avoid you and you still get stares from most everyone.  It's a situation you're completely desperate to get out of at this point and it makes talking to Keith a gigantic pain as you know that there are dozens of pairs of eyes casting sidelong glances and dozens of mouths whispering things at any given moment.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you got a target yet?" Keith asks immediately, skipping any pleasantries.<br/>
<br/>
"Good to see you too." you reply sarcastically, "And kind of.  I've got someone working on it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yumi's cousins?" he asks, "So you're using Caleb and mine's anime bands?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, they know the school so they're out scouting 'recruits' or whatever." you say before adding, "And it's anima, not anime."<br/>
<br/>
Keith just rolls his eyes. "So did you need anything or what?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna need you to come with me to Dana's." you say, "We have to golemize my mask and since you're taking Westside, I figure it's for the best that we add your hair since, you know, you'll be around my golem and all."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like a good idea." he says, "We gonna tell Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head, "Nuh uh, we have to go straight to her place from here.  Actually..." you hand him a pair of scissors, "cut off a bit of your hair.  I've got the mask with me so I'll golemize it before second period since it's just a study hall and they're not gonna care if I'm a few minutes late coming in."<br/>
<br/>
Keith grumbles but grabs the scissors and complies. "I'm guessing you've got everything else we'll need?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." you nod, "I've got my mask, the blank, a mind strip and the Yumi mask." You see him give you a look with that last one, "I don't remember the directions offhand so I'm gonna need you to wear her mask so we can get there."<br/>
<br/>
As the bell rings, the two of you go over the plan one last time.  You then part and head off to your respective first period classes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"God, will you two cut it out?" you ask in an annoyed manner.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi and Sarah pull out of their liplock and look at you. "Well, Dana's a little late in getting here." Yumi states, "And we <i>are</i> kind of bored."<br/>
<br/>
"Besides," Sarah chimes in, "I know it's turning you on.  And that offer's still on the table by the way."<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head and then hear a car door close.  And then another one.  "Alright, they're here.  For real this time, cut it out."<br/>
<br/>
"...seriously can't believe he just pulled his eye out and ate it." comes a female voice that doesn't belong to Dana as the front door opens.  "I mean that was a little gross, don--"<br/>
<br/>
Her words cut out as you quickly spring into action and place a mind band on her head, catching her as she slips under.  You look to see an Asian girl lying on the floor, you're afraid for a second that you DID accidentally hit Dana but you notice that her face is different, her hair is shorter, she wears glasses and that she has a slightly curvier build.<br/>
<br/>
"She looks kind of hot laying there like that." Dana says stepping in, "Maybe I should... nah."<br/>
<br/>
"Who is she?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Whitney Hoang." she answers, "I've got English with her so I was able to get her to come over to go over a book we're reading in class."<br/>
<br/>
"Anything special about her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she's a friend of mine so you'll be around me." Dana smirks, "But she's actually a little popular.  Dates a guy named Dennis Hoffman who's on the baseball team and is good friends with Faye Griffin and, by proxy, Alyssa."<br/>
<br/>
"That all sounds pretty good." you say.  And as you say that, the band reappears.  Quickly you move to snatch the band and grab the blank mask to throw on her face and grab her image.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"So how are you liking your new ride." Yumi asks as you stand in front of the mirror at a bathroom in the mall, Will is waiting outside for the two of you to finish up.<br/>
<br/>
"She's not bad." you say, giving yourself a good look, "Cute face.  Even with her mind these tight jeans and low cut shirt are going to take some getting used to... and she has a ton of clothes like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Well she's got nice tits and a great ass." Yumi says non-chalantly, "Thick in that way that's really hot."<br/>
<br/>
"What about you?  I'm surprised you haven't switched out of Yumi yet." you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm totally in love with this body." he says looking himself over appreciatively.  "It just feels great and hot."<br/>
<br/>
"So what, you want to stick with her or something?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Keith gives a shrug.  "Maybe?  I kind of want to keep this mask around at least.  I really should visit Sarah more often..." he then looks over at you, "So you ready to tell Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
You look at yourself again, "I dunno.  We really should but I kind of want to get used to being Whitney.  Go through a day as her first."<br/>
<br/>
"Take a nice, soapy shower..." Keith adds, "I dunno man, it's up to you.  I need to decide what to do now too so, like, do whatever."</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112111222
author_id: seuzz
title: Sudden Drama at Eastman High
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It's just not a good idea keeping secrets from him," Dana says.<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes as you shove your books into the locker. "Who says I'm keeping secrets? It's not a big thing."<br/>
<br/>
"It just seems kind of untrustworthy."<br/>
<br/>
"'It just,' 'It just,'" you impatiently mimic her. "It is or it isn't, and it isn't, so what's the big fucking deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you gonna say when he asks where you were?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell him a really boring story," you snort. You scope out your reflection in the mirror hanging inside the locker door, and twist the low-cut top to expose more of your boobs. "I mean, I'm having fun, but it's not like it's any of his fucking business."<br/>
<br/>
Dana leans in close. "Look, I know what he's gonna think," she says very quietly. "For obvious reasons."<br/>
<br/>
"Then tell him what you know," you reply in a similarly low but exasperated tone. "I said it's not a secret."<br/>
<br/>
She winces. "I don't want it to sound like I'm spying on you," she says. She pauses and looks over your shoulder, and you follow her glance. It's Lawrence Farmer at his locker (next to yours). His back is to you and he is shuffling books around to no seeming purpose. He does this for awhile, and then his head shifts slightly, and you have the impression he's aware that you are scrutinizing him. And yet he doesn't turn around. Instead, he zips up his backpack and disappears back into the pre-class crush.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to tell Caleb where you are," Dana repeats firmly. "That's for you to do."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever," you roll your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
No, you're <i>not</i> trying to keep secrets from Caleb. It's just pointless to tell him you've replaced Whitney Hoang when you will be swapping places with someone else shortly. At the same time, you are more than a little struck by Dana's attitude: The "Caleb" that is "possessing" her is being more loyal to you than to him. You don't know why, but it bothers you for some reason.<br/>
<br/>
But then your entire reason for not keeping Caleb in the loop about your temporary location collapses. <br/>
<br/>
"Heeeyyyy," you lazily greet your boyfriend after school, wrapping an arm around his lean torso. Though you've only been out of Dennis's company for one period you instantly start chatting about the day. But he says nothing, and he doesn't even put his arm around you, either, as you walk together into the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
You keep talking most of the way, laughing about this and that, on the drive from school; it's not Whitney's nature to press Dennis when he's being moody, and not Dennis's nature to expand on his reasons for moodiness. But then he interrupts you in mid-laugh when you pull up at your house. "Where were you Tuesday night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God," you groan. "That family dinner for the aunts. I thought I told you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, tell me some more about it."<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing to tell." But he stares at you truculently, so you sigh and spin out the tedious details of a dinner for two aunts who showed up unexpectedly in town, complete with the story about the two steaks that had to be sent back to be redone even though the problem was clearly that the steaks had been placed on the wrong platters and that if only the aunts had had the sense to switch plates then they wouldn't have had to wait another fifteen minutes for ...<br/>
<br/>
He listens patiently, and is silent for a bit after you finish. "Huh," he grunts. "Sounds boring."<br/>
<br/>
"It was <i>awful.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty imaginative, though. I like the bit about the steaks."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd much rather have been with you," you sigh, and rub his leg. It has good, hard muscle in it.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll walk you to the door," he says, getting out. "You cancelled our study date for that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't have a choice."<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty last minute thing, though." He frowns.<br/>
<br/>
"Sweetness, what's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd just like to know where you were."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I was with my family and my aunts."<br/>
<br/>
"No, that's the 'boring' story." He makes air quotes with his fingers. "I want the real story. You know, the one that's not any of my 'fucking business'."<br/>
<br/>
You blink, twice. And then it hits you. "That—! What— ! I wasn't—!" But there's nothing to say, because you couldn't possibly explain what you'd meant when you were talking to Dana—<br/>
<br/>
Talking to Dana while that <i>fucking asshole gossipy drama queen Lawrence Farmer</i> was eavesdropping, totally misunderstanding, and running off to make trouble. So all you can do is sputter and take deep, gulping breaths, which just makes you look even guiltier.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," Dennis shrugs, without animosity but also without a trace of sympathy or understanding. "You can come find me when you decide to come clean about whatever it is you've been doing behind my back." He walks back to his car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The problem, of course, is that you can't let Whitney back out while this mess is uncleaned-up. The whole idea is to replace her only briefly and without making ripples, so that when she reappears she won't be able to make waves about coming down with short-term amnesia. But a blow-up with her boyfriend during her absence? Oh, she'll notice that. You should see about smoothing that over, and fast.<br/>
<br/>
That means a trip to Alyssa.<br/>
<br/>
The girl who tops your short list of acquisitions isn't all sweetness and light, exactly. No one who gets to the top of the social hierarchy is going to be. But she's not a bitch and she has a reputation for being fair-minded. Whitney is also close enough to her that you can text her and set up a rendezvous on extremely short notice—like, twenty minutes.<br/>
<br/>
"Alyssa, what's the latest gossip about me?" you ask her bluntly after you're settled at the bakery across from the school. <br/>
<br/>
She blinks, and so does Geoff Dunholm, who has followed her over from the Debate Club practice session they were both at. The latter starts to get up. "Maybe this isn't the kind of conversation I want to listen to."<br/>
<br/>
"No, sit," you order him. "You can help. 'Cos it has to do with Dennis, and he's friends with Cooper, and Cooper's on the debate squad with you."<br/>
<br/>
Geoff groans. "This isn't a game of 'Six Degrees of Me'."<br/>
<br/>
"Honey, what's wrong," Alyssa asks. Whitney has always liked the way she could be business-like.<br/>
<br/>
"Dennis and me got in a fight because of something that Lawrence <i>Fucking</i> Farmer overheard and then blabbed about." Alyssa's eyes narrow at the mention of Farmer, whom she hates. You've had time to construct a plausible scenario, so your misconstrued conversation about Caleb becomes a misconstrued conversation about beating off the attentions of one of Dana's cousins. <br/>
<br/>
Alyssa clucks sympathetically when you're done, and toys around with your story. She repeats it to herself, noting how and where Dennis could cast it in a very bad light if you aren't careful. She wanders from point to point and thread to thread in a way that is masterful but finally about as productive as untangling a bowl of spaghetti. "The problem is that Dennis is so much the jealous type," she sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"With much to be jealous of," a cheerful voice calls from behind you. Fingers run up your spine, and you look up to see Frank Durras grinning down at you. "Though not of you, Dunholm." he adds, swinging around to slap Geoff on the shoulder. "I handed you your ass this afternoon, and you ran out before I could gloat."<br/>
<br/>
"I was distracted," Geoff says. "No fair putting your partner in the back of the room to flash her boobs at me while I was giving my rebuttal." He glowers at Alyssa and lets his eyes drop onto her prodigious bosom. "Anyway," he says, still staring at her. "Where's your boyfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean Joe?" Frank drops his backpack under the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Oh, that's right, your story is that he's your brother, even though no one believes it."<br/>
<br/>
You think you see Frank stiffen slightly, but he smiles. "What can I say? Some brothers actually get along with each other, even when one of them's adopted."<br/>
<br/>
"And which one of you got left by the gypsies?"<br/>
<br/>
"Both of us, actually. Maybe that's how come we bonded. And he's next door at the box place, since you're so <i>interested</i> in the location of my sexy brother's sexy ass."<br/>
<br/>
Frank Durras is tall and dark and good looking—not too different from Geoff, though Frank is clearly a lot stronger and more athletic. Whitney's mind reflects that he would be a good catch; and though you mean it in a different way, you'd be inclined to agree.<br/>
<br/>
Your eye drifts down to his bag, the top of which is open, and you freeze.<br/>
<br/>
It's wedged between his books and it's unpolished, but you've no doubt what the white, oval object is. It's a <i>Libra</i> mask.<br/>
<br/>
Is one of your friends spying on you?</span></div></div>


