# chapters

path: 113122111
author_id: rugal
title: Queens and Pawns
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Do you trust Chelsea or not? It's a question you keep asking yourself all day Monday until some time after lunch when you feel a large and meaty hand grab the back of your neck. You feel yourself being marched into the nearest bathroom and then into a stall. There's a large presence behind you and you feel it get closer and closer. "Got some sandbags that need moving," Gordon says right into your ear.<br/>
<br/>
"R-right now!?" you squeak. "You weren't supposed to get them n--"<br/>
<br/>
You squeak again as the grip around your neck tightens. "Well I did," comes the direct reply. "You gotta a problem with that?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel a sudden force push you forward, inching your face just a bit closer to the piss-soaked toilet. "N-no! It's just--" But again, your face is forced even closer, your eyes watering both from the tight grip and the smell. "Alright! I'll move them!" you cry out. You feel the grip loosen, allowing you to stand up straight.<br/>
<br/>
"Good, then let's go."<br/>
<br/>
"What, now!?" you ask as you turn around... only for Gordon to yank you towards him by your collar.<br/>
<br/>
"No, a week from now. Of course right fuckin' now," he growls as he leans forward, inches from your face. "You got a problem with that? That why you're gettin' in my face like this?"<br/>
<br/>
Holy shit, he's going to kill you if you keep trying to say anything! So you have no choice but to acquiesce and tell him that you'll move the stuff. Again his grip loosens and though he's not holding onto you, he's practically glued to you as you make your way out into the parking lot and his VW Bug. "Okay, I'll just get my truck and--"<br/>
<br/>
You're stopped by one of those gorilla hands grabbing and squeezing your wrist.<br/>
<br/>
"You not going anywhere, Prescott," Gordon says, "except to my car to get those bags."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? But wouldn't it be easier if I just brought--YEOW!" The grip on your wrist tightens causing you to yelp in pain. "Okay okay! God! But can you help me bring them over?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon simply pushes you towards his car while laughing. "Chelsea only said I had to bring the shit here," he states. "She didn't say nothin' about <i>me</i> having to move it." He laughs again as he watches you struggle to remove one of the large and heavy bags of dirt from his car. "You should be thankin' me, Prescott! This'll help you bulk up! Girls like a bit of muscle!"<br/>
<br/>
You want to flip him off but you're too busy having to lug these stupid bags, plus you know that if you did then he'd just punch your skull out of your head. Chelsea seriously couldn't have told him to help you move these or better yet, told him to do it himself? To make matters worse, you figure that she'd want to talk but instead her response is total silence until after eighth when she tells you that she'll get back to you when she's ready.<br/>
<br/>
You give a curt but accepting response and head home to wait for her message.<br/>
<br/>
<i>* * * * *</i><br/>
You'd spent some time after getting home creating a mask and, having yet to hear back from Chelsea, you're now busy polishing it in your room. There's a sudden knock on the door that jolts you and a second later, it pushes open to reveal your dad.<br/>
<br/>
"Dinner will be ready in the hour so wash up," he tells you. However he seems to spot the mask you're working on and so doesn't immediately leave. "What's that you got there?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, it's just an art thing. I'm helping out a friend from school," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"And you have to polish it? What's it supposed to look like?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, blue, I think," you respond. "I've been at it for most of the afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"Most of--" your dad appears shocked but regains his composure. "When is this supposed to be done?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "I don't know, maybe in the next day or two? They just said they wanted it done soon."<br/>
<br/>
Your father grunts with annoyance. "Will," he sighs, "come with me for a minute. Bring that with you."<br/>
<br/>
You're really not one to defy your father so, still holding onto the mask, you push yourself off of the bed and follow him through the house and into the garage. He digs around for a bit before finding and pulling down a box. Reaching inside, he removes a car buffer and hands it to you. "Try it, you'll never finish it at the rate you're going," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, thanks? But why are you helping me with this?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He simply shakes his head. "It'd be unfair to your friend to suffer for your goofing around," he states. "Seriously, Will, if you're going to agree to help people then you need to put in real effort."<br/>
<br/>
You grumble but don't argue and at his insistence, you head back into the house and wash up. Though you quickly head back into the garage to try the buffer out. To your amazement, it's maybe a little over half an hour before the mask is now shining a brilliant blue. At dinner you thank your dad for the help. It's as you're working on one of those bands that a message finally comes from Chelsea telling you to meet her at her house.<br/>
<br/>
She has to give you directions on where it is but you agree. You finish up the band, attach it to the mask, and then stuff it and all of your other supplies into your backpack. You tell your parents you're heading out to give drop the project off. Your dad asks you if this "friend" is Caleb and you can only shake your head. But then you get it into your head that maybe you can impress him.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, it's Chelsea Cooper. The head cheerleader," you add when the name gets no response. "She's only one of the most popular girls in school!"<br/>
<br/>
Your dad seems to be unbelieving but he doesn't protest you going out either. Merely tells you to be back by curfew. You excitedly head out to the truck. You told Chelsea you'd be showing her this new mask and boy oh boy will you. Because that stunt with Gordon this afternoon, and her blowing you off the rest of the day has just about sealed it for you.<br/>
<br/>
You need to try out this new spell and Chelsea has just about made herself the perfect test subject.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're greeted of Chelsea's home by Mrs. Cooper. She's an older though still attractive woman who makes you think you're getting a look at Chelsea in twenty-five years. She's also, much to your surprise, very pleasant; quick with the compliments both to you and to Chelsea when she calls her down. Chelsea, though, grumbles and grouses and is quick to take you onto her back patio as she tells her mother not to bother her for you've important things to discuss.<br/>
<br/>
And discuss you do... well, more like explain. Chelsea listens quietly but attentively as you explain the new spell to her and what it does. You show her the mask -- though you hold back on the paste -- and hand it to her.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so if you made a mask of, yourself and then put that paste in it, whoever you put it on would have to obey you?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I think that's how it works. That's what I got from the book, at least," you tell her. "And if I, say, got a mask of... I don't know, Marc Garner and then put that special mask of myself on him, I could replace him and nobody would be the wiser."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea looks at the blank mask for a minute and then her eyes gleam. "So why don't you?" she asks. "If you switch places with someone then couldn't you be more popular? Couldn't you help <i>me</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you're not an idiot. You knew where her mind would go once you'd told her about the past and special masks. Now it's time to dangle some more bait. "I'd like to help you, Chelsea, really. But I don't know if <i>I'm</i> necessarily the person who should be getting more involved than I am," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was actually thinking of letting you try it," you explain. "Because if you made one of those special masks of yourself then you could swap with, I don't know, Cindy or Jessica or... or someone in <i>that</i> group. You know, undermine them from the inside?" You stop to draw a breath. "I mean, that <i>is</i> what you'd want to do with these masks, right? Shore up your position on the squad? Honestly, you've already done a lot for me so I'd like to return the favor."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea continues to look at the mask. "Okay, fine, I'll do it but we meet up at the gym before school. You need my hair right?" She yanks out a small bit and hands it to you. "Do that at home, and make another mask tonight. I'll switch with someone in the morning."<br/>
<br/>
To your joy, you watch as she places the mask to her face and goes stiff as it disappears into her. Quickly, you pull the past you'd made with your hair out of your backpack as well as the brush. When that mask comes out, all you need to do is treat it and shove it back on her and in a flash, the queen bee of Westside will be answering to you. What could you do from there, though?<br/>
<br/>
Well, use her to help make you popular or get a girlfriend for a start. But you could also make a mask of yourself and <i>be</i> Chelsea, running the squad and school as her. Or hell, become another cheerleader and run things from the shadows using Chelsea as a proxy... or not even another cheerleader, you could run the school as <i>anyone</i>. You can't help but find amusement at the thought of someone like Cassie Harper or an underclassmen being the shadow ruler of the schooler.<br/>
<br/>
But you start wondering if that's the right thing to do. Chelsea hasn't done wrong by you yet and hell, she seems to have enough trust in you to have believed you're helping her. Maybe you should just let everything pass and continue being partners with her.</span></div></div>


path: 1131221113
author_id: seuzz
title: Queen Sacrifice
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You hold the possibilities in your mind, mentally juggling them as you wait. Go through with your plan to betray Chelsea? Or trust her? Suppose you double-cross her; wouldn't that make you no better than Chelsea? And then, after you double-crossed her, what do you do? What would you do with her, and with these spells and devices?<br/>
<br/>
As the mask emerges from her face you snatch it up and quickly seal it. But then you hang back, paralyzed.<br/>
<br/>
The doubts and second thoughts are almost too much. But piece by piece they crumble before a greater fear, that Chelsea will do as you feared: unto you as you are tempted now to do unto her. Because, surely, if it would be this easy for you to trap her under a mask, how much easier would it be for her to do it to you, when she can order her gorilla-strong boyfriend to help her.<br/>
<br/>
The seconds are passing quickly, but they've run out after you have made your decision. You pop out in a sweat all over as you scramble for the bag containing that paste you made.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The mask has just vanished into her, and you're still bending over her, when Chelsea's eyes pop open. You jump back, and barely stifle a shriek. Chelsea, equally surprised, scoots back on her bed. You and she stare at each other a moment before she says, "Did it work?"<br/>
<br/>
You swallow thickly. Her question—<i>Did it work?</i>—is yours too. Because if it didn't, she is going to be so far on the other side of enraged that you'll need a telescope to see her.<br/>
<br/>
"Um— I— I think I messed up."<br/>
<br/>
She frowns. "How?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I, uh, I think I put the stuff on it in the, uh, wrong order." You are improvising, because you sure as hell didn't expect her to wake up so fast. <br/>
<br/>
Her frown deepens, and her hand goes to the top buttons of her blouse. "So what were you doing just now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just checking to make sure you were still breathing."<br/>
<br/>
She bounces off the bed and pushes past you for her bathroom. She puts the light on but doesn't bother to close the door as she disappears around the corner. There's a long silence before she calls out, "Should I be worried about anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" Your mouth is very dry.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know! That's why I'm asking you!" Her head appears around the corner, and her face is flushed. "You're the one who said—"<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing wrong with you! Don't worry! I was checking on you because, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, okay then!" She puts out the bathroom light and rejoins you by her bed. "Are you going to have to start over again?" She's frowning, but the fear has vanished from her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart seems to freeze inside your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, I don't know. I'll have to look at the book again, look at the, uh, mask." You give her a careful look-over, but Chelsea says nothing. You hesitate, weighing your words, then say, "Get me a glass of water."<br/>
<br/>
There's just the tiniest jerk in her shoulders, then she says, "Whatever you say, boss," and turns for the door. You collapse nervelessly onto her bed after she's gone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Whatever you say, boss.</i> That's what Chelsea Cooper—the head cheerleader, the queen of the school, the proud girlfriend of the biggest, nastiest ballplayer at Westside—said to <i>you</i> when you told her to bring you a glass of water. <br/>
<br/>
Now, granted, you are, against all logic and reason, partnered with her in a magical project. But she's made it clear in the past that <i>she</i> is the boss, and you're the one following her orders. But there was no irony in her voice or manner when she said what she said, and left.<br/>
<br/>
And it wasn't the only time that evening she called you "boss." Instead of bugging out as soon as possible, you cautiously made yourself a little camp at her desk, hunching up with the book while she sat patiently by on her bed and watched you work. You set her a few other tests as you pretended to study the spell: "Bring me a pen." "Bring me a notebook." "Stop texting and put your phone down." Some of these got more of a rise out of her, so that she grimaced and groused at why <i>she</i> seemed to be doing all the work. But even when she challenged you—"What for?" she demanded when you told her to bring you a roll of toilet paper from the downstairs bathroom—she was still moving to obey even while giving you a curdled look. And the word "boss" kept popping up as well.<br/>
<br/>
You finally asked her about that: "Why do you keep calling me 'boss'?"<br/>
<br/>
She blinked. "I dunno. Shouldn't I? It seems like you should be charge," she said. "You're the one who's figuring all this stuff out."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," you replied, and you felt a wave of shaky confidence roll over you. "I'm in charge. I'm the boss. I'm <i>your</i> boss," you added in a quavering voice, and couldn't help adding, "You <i>want</i> me to be your boss, Chelsea. You <i>like</i> me being your boss." And Chelsea, after a thoughtful hesitation, nodded as her puzzled expression cleared up. "Always call me 'boss' when we're alone," you ordered her, "like this. But <i>never</i> call me 'boss' when someone else is around."<br/>
<br/>
"You got it, boss." She tittered, and stretched out on her bed, resting on her elbow. Her gaze turned hooded, and it seemed almost as though her lips got plumper.<br/>
<br/>
It scared you, more than a little, this change in her attitude. You couldn't quite shake the paranoid fear that she was just toying with you. "What are you thinking?" you asked.<br/>
<br/>
She tittered again. "I really should tell you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." She let out a short sigh. "I'm thinking that I really like a strong, take-charge kind of guy." She ran her tongue over her glistening lower lip.<br/>
<br/>
Well, that got another rise out of you, from your scalp to your toes, but especially in your shorts. And when her knees fell apart and she let out another, more shuddering sigh, you tensed even harder.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly you levered yourself to your feet. What you were about to do, it made you feel like you were about to put your head inside the mouth of a lion.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea grinned as you bent over her, putting your face to hers. Even then, you hesitated, shivering as her warm, fragrant breath brushed over your cheek. Then you put your mouth to hers.<br/>
<br/>
It lasted only a few seconds, that kiss. You were still too frightened to do more than gently snack on her lips. "Oh, Will," she whispered when you bent your head and pushed your face into the folds of her hair. "Be my boss. <i>Please!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
All that was a couple of hours ago, and you are now at home, in bed, in the dark, having filled your jerk-off sock with more cock-snot than you think you've ever shot out before, and  judging by the restless twitches in your hips and thews, you'd be able to fill it again before falling asleep. It's not so much the memory of that kiss that gets you excited, but of the way Chelsea wound the word "boss" around her tongue. Did she ever talk to Gordon the way she talked to you?<br/>
<br/>
Eh, probably. But what's important is that she's talking to you this way. The mask, you are now certain, worked. Chelsea Cooper is now your slave.<br/>
<br/>
But that still leaves the question of what you are going to do next.<br/>
<br/>
The most obvious play is to assume the identity of her boyfriend. Gordon, after all, is the captain of the basketball squad, and is the biggest, meanest athlete at the school. He's not "popular" the way Chelsea is—he's far too bad-tempered and bullying for that—but he is going to lead the Westside team to the state finals this year, and is probably going to win them. And the thought of <i>being</i> the big man at school is awfully tempting, especially if it means you can hang out with Chelsea—and fuck her senseless—any time you want without it looking weird.<br/>
<br/>
But there are other possibilities. Marc Garner, for instance. He's the captain of the varsity soccer team, and is a lot more popular than Gordon. You've heard he has a girlfriend, but it would be nothing to get Chelsea to break up with Gordon and to start dating Marc. Or maybe you (as Marc) and Chelsea could cheat with each other on your official snugglemates. Maybe you as Gordon could cheat on Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
One fantasy will tread on the heels of another. As you imagine who at school you could be, and who you could get with using their bodies, you segue from the thought of fucking certain girls to the thought of <i>being</i> certain girls. Earlier this evening, you were giving serious thought to taking Chelsea's name, face, and body and making them your own. But there are other girls whose skins you could slip into. Girls like Kelsey Blankenship, who is richer and snootier while being just as much of a busybody. Or Andrea Varnsworth, the sexy and aloof swimmer.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You fall asleep late with wood, and you wake early with wood. As you nurse it, you drift back to the fantasies that occupied you last night. After taking consultation with yourself (and your jerk-off sock) you conclude that you want to be ...<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135
author_id: seuzz
title: In Search of the Perfect Hiding Face
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Gordon Black. Marc Garner. Andrea Varnsworth. Kelsey Blankenship. Chelsea Cooper.<br/>
<br/>
You could steal the face and body and mind of any of these, replacing and impersonating them. But why impersonate one of them, when you could impersonate <i>all</i> of them?<br/>
<br/>
Not at all once, of course. That would impossible. But, like, spend a week being Gordon, then a weekend being Marc, a few days being Andrea, another week being Kelsey, and so and so on, even adding more ponies to your string.<br/>
<br/>
And the great part is, when you weren't impersonating them—wearing their clothes, driving their cars, hanging out with their friends, sleeping in their beds—they would still be under you control, following your orders, and calling you "boss." You could have the whole school rigged and wired!<br/>
<br/>
As you shower and dress, the idea of running the school grows more and more appealing, even to the point of crowding out the appeal of impersonating one of the more popular or prominent students. Gradually a new fantasy evolves, in which you secretly run the school from the shadows, using your puppets and pawns to manage everyone and everything else.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you fully give up on the idea of an impersonation. Only now your idea is to run the school from behind the face of someone who is relatively invisible—or, at least, not as high profile as the kids you were fantasizing about last night.<br/>
<br/>
No, they would kids like ... Um ... Well ...<br/>
<br/>
Okay, you're just going to have to be on the lookout for candidates when you get to school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're early getting to school, and are hunched up in your desk watching as the other students slowly file in, when Caleb comes swinging in through the door. At first, as he passes your desk, his presence doesn't register.<br/>
<br/>
Then it does, and you almost jump from your seat.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your problem?" Caleb honks as he drops his backpack onto his desk.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't got a problem," you retort. "What's yours?"<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think I got a problem? You're the one jumping like you sat on a thumbtack."<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Just— Nothing."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb frowns at you, and you are very conscious that your face must have gone very pale.<br/>
<br/>
You were in class with him yesterday, of course. But yesterday you were preoccupied with Chelsea, and so hardly paid attention to him, and when you did it was only to nurse the sour, secret grudge you've got against him: He copied your face into a mask without your permission, then tried using it to steal a copy of Gordon's. That's how he lost the book you sold him, and how come you got mixed up with Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
But now you've got the book back, and you know how to use it, and you're making plans for using it.<br/>
<br/>
And the only person who could possibly suspect your scheme—who could even know that such a scheme is possible—is the so-called "best friend" who stabbed you in the back.<br/>
<br/>
You quickly look away from him.<br/>
<br/>
But you feel his eyes boring into you, so give him a peevish, sidelong glance and demand, "The fuck is your problem, man?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Will," he says. "My problem is whatever the fuck <i>your</i> problem is, and since I don't know—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't got a problem. Except!" You snap your finger and wheel on him. "I just remembered, you owe me thirty-something dollars!"<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"For getting you that job at my dad's work!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"<br/>
<br/>
"Guys!" Mr. Walberg barks from the front of the room. "Clean up the gutter talk, take it outside, or pipe down!"<br/>
<br/>
You flash the teacher a brief glower, then lean over to hiss at Caleb. "Thirty-seven bucks! That's what my problem is!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Caleb grumbles. "That's <i>not</i> what your problem is, but fine. I'll have it for you tomorrow. Are we friends again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure we are," you growl back. Silently you add, <i>But that doesn't mean I want to talk or look at you.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You keep alert through all your classes for possible candidates for a body-jacking, but it's a frustrating exercise. The fact is that when your candidate is to be a nobody, then <i>everybody</i> is a candidate.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, maybe not <i>everybody.</i> Take Jason Church, for example. He's a chunky kid in Mr. Walberg's class with a bowl haircut and glasses and a moon-shaped face. He's got friends—a couple of chunky girls who talk to him—but when you tell yourself you want "low profile" that doesn't mean you want to be unattractive. The opposite trouble is that the attractive ones, like Laurent Delacroix, who is a wrestler, are for that reason not "low profile."<br/>
<br/>
Oh, sure there are some guys who maybe fit it. On the far side of second-period film class, for instance, there's a lanky guy with a bright, open face and handsome features. He seems friendly and personable with those sitting next to him. You have no idea who he is, which is at least some evidence that he's "low profile" despite being attractive. But that's the trouble: You don't know who he is, and can think of no way of getting alone with him to make a switch.<br/>
<br/>
What it comes down to, you finally realize as you're slouching in the library during your seventh-period study hall, is that anyone you know and have a chance to get close to is unattractive, while the attractive ones you know about are too high-profile to serve as the "secret mastermind" that you think you want to play.<br/>
<br/>
But do you still want to play it? The day's challenges are eroding your plan's attractions.<br/>
<br/>
You're chewing it over when you're startled to hear your name: "Will."<br/>
<br/>
You look around. Kim Walsh, frowning, is standing just inside the doorway of the library. "Have you seen Deanna around?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Showalter? Uh ... No."<br/>
<br/>
"Darn it," Kim says. "We have Speech in a minute, but she wanted to see me before we went in there. I thought she said she'd be—"<br/>
<br/>
Kim wheels and exits without even finishing her sentence.<br/>
<br/>
You stare after her, wondering why you didn't see the idea before.<br/>
<br/>
Kim, a short, pert red-head who hangs out with AP crowd, is the student council president. She is earnest but popular, and because she's a natural politician she knows practically everyone in the senior class. If there was ever a natural-born wire-puller, who has the skill and know-how to manipulate the student body, it would be her.<br/>
<br/>
And she's got a small, tight, attractive body, and the kind of sweet and pretty face behind which no one would suspect lurked the brain of a shapeshifting mastermind.<br/>
<br/>
You haven't been keeping a list, because you haven't had any names to put on one. But now you flip your three-ring binder to a blank page, and in large block letters write "KIM WALSH."<br/>
<br/>
Then, a minute later, after chewing it over, you add "DEANNA SHOWALTER" beneath it. Deanna, who you remember from a few shared classes in your junior year, is a popular girl who can talk your ear off when she gets going, but she is equally adept at listening. That's what makes her such a notorious gossip, so notorious in fact that even you, who don't pay attention to such things, know that she's got a reputation for ferreting out and broadcasting every secret in the school. Though her reputation would make her a bit obvious as a master manipulator, her sitting at the center of so many webs would make hers a natural position to work from.<br/>
<br/>
It feels like you've had a breakthrough—a new and better sense of the kind of impersonation you should be looking for.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yo, Prescott!" You're just leaving Astronomy, your final class of the day, when your shouted named sounds over the buzz and roar of the hallway crowd. You stop dead and look around. A moment later, Carson Ioeger pulls you to the side and pushes you against a locker. His best friend, James Lamont, looms up behind him.<br/>
<br/>
Carson and James are friends of yours from a long ways back, and they're cut from the same cloth as you and Caleb: tall, skinny, with a taste for video games, comic books, and movies, and a strong distaste for sports and the kind of beefwits who go in for it. Carson and James, though, are a lot better at math and science than you, and they're also a lot pushier and lot more arrogant. They don't take kindly to being shaken down by gymnasium goons, for instance, and often give as good as they get. Last year, for instance, they succeeded in gluing Seth Javit's shoes to the library floor while he was still wearing them.<br/>
<br/>
So maybe they're not trying to bully you when they lean in over you, but it almost feels like they are.<br/>
<br/>
"So my man Johansson tells me you're shaking him down for forty dollars," Carson says. He scowls.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not shaking him down! He owes me!"<br/>
<br/>
"For what? Getting him a job at your dad's place?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes!"<br/>
<br/>
"But you didn't, Prescott." Carson stabs you in the chest with a bony forefinger. "Johansson got the job fair and square."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, he promised me—"<br/>
<br/>
"You can try to collect, man," Carson warns you, "but know this. You get the money off'a Johansson, and me and James'll be around to take it off'a you. <br/>
<br/>
"We like you, Prescott," says James. "We don't want to have to go sick-medieval on your ass."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we like to save that for the motherfuckers on the basketball squad."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
With that, Carson makes the list alongside Kim and Deanna. He may not have their connections, but he's got the brass.<br/>
<br/>
And as you trudge out to your truck, you mentally add Caleb to the list as well. He wanted to use the book. Maybe he should get a chance—after you've turned yourself into him.<br/>
<br/>
But as you clamber into your truck, you sigh. Possibly the best tactic is to start as one of big fish at school—a Gordon or a Kelsey—and only later pick out a hiding place.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111352
author_id: rugal
title: The Assistant
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Stick masks onto influential people, put them under your control, make them like Chelsea and then you'll run the school. But you can't run it as yourself and the plan is for Westside's elite to be little more than proxies while you hide safe and sound in another identity. Someone below that upper strata or someone easy to overlook. But if they're easy to overlook, that means you need to make yourself aware of them which means you need the eyes, ears, and brain of someone who knows what's what around school. Someone like Deanna.<br/>
<br/>
She might not be the person whose identity you need if you want to play the part of secret puppetmaster — she's a little <i>too</i> obvious after all — but you do need someone who knows things and she's going to know as much as anyone else in school can. You begin to feel a little excited at the plan that's starting to come together when reality smacks you: you need more. You've got an extra mask but what good would copying Deanna's body be when it's her mind that you're after?<br/>
<br/>
You head out to the old elementary school to see how much of everything you have. You want to get started on the band but there's a pit that forms in your stomach when you remember how labor intensive it is. Besides, you have all this stuff for masks as well and it'd be a shame to not get any use out of it. After all, if you wanted to swap with Deanna then you'd need a mask of yourself as well; and maybe having more masks in case more... recruits reveal themselves wouldn't be bad. Even if you <i>didn't</i> want to be Deanna, you'll need a mask of yourself anyway for when you find who you do want to swap with.<br/>
<br/>
So you put aside working on the band for the moment and instead get to work on the masks. Once you're done making the masks you then get to work on making the bands... well, the metal strips themselves; you don't carve anything onto them yet. All told, by the end that's six masks needing to be polished while seven bands sit waiting for their runes. But that'll have to wait for you check your phone and your eyes go wide when you notice the time. Your parents will be pissed if you're late for dinner so you lock up and rush home for now.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're not gone all too long. You practically inhale your dinner — telling your parents that you just felt really hungry and that dinner was especially good tonight — before washing up and telling your dad that you're meeting up with some friends to study and do some homework. And when he casts suspicions that you're going to play around you, thinking on your feet, tell him that you're all doing it at the public library. That seems to mollify him enough that he only reminds you of your curfew.<br/>
<br/>
Back in the basement, you're about to start polishing when you decide to try your luck and send a text to Chelsea asking if she's doing anything. When she confirms that she's not, you decide to press your luck with this whole "boss" thing and tell her to come out to the old elementary school and send her directions. You're busy polishing a mask when you're startled by a tap on your shoulder. You turn to see Chelsea looking at you with amusement.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, you scared me!" you gasp nervously. Even if she's under your control, it's still Chelsea Cooper and you're still feeling nervous.<br/>
<br/>
She simply giggles, however. "I wasn't, like, trying to or anything. I actually called out to you, you know being all like 'Hey boss!' and whatever, but I guess you didn't hear me," she explains. "So, what are you doing?" she asks as she cranes her neck.<br/>
<br/>
You show her the mask you're working on, explaining the buffering process, and show her the rest of the masks as well as the bands. She's suitably impressed. "You've been busy, huh boss?" she says. "What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"For making doppelgangers, remember? Like I told you about earlier? Like—"<br/>
<br/>
"Like what, boss?" Chelsea asks.<br/>
<br/>
You pause though. Chelsea's a doppelganger, your <i>first</i> doppelganger. But that's just it, she's not really Chelsea. She's whatever you want her to be. She has to listen to you, right? Obey your every whim and all that? If you wanted her to be nice to Yumi she'd be nice. If you wanted her to be helpful and charitable to everyone, then she'd be well on the road to sainthood. If you wanted her to love you... Maybe you shouldn't think of her as a simple doppelganger. You want to run the school and you want your replacements to be at your beck and call but if things change too much, too fast then wouldn't that weird people out? They need to still ostensibly be themselves and the changes can come more gradually.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe then, instead of simply thinking of them as doppelgangers or replacements or fakes, you should think of them as the same people, just reborn with a new outlook; a new perspective. The girl before you looks and sounds, walks and talks, like Chelsea Cooper so just think of her as Chelsea Cooper. A Chelsea Cooper with an attitude adjustment.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to call me boss," you tell her and grasp her hands. "I want you to call me Will. We're not master and servant."<br/>
<br/>
"But I still have to listen to you," she replies with some confusion.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yes, but..." How to word it, you wonder? "But you're doing it because you want to. Because I'm helping you. Because I've been nice to you." You pull her in closer. "That's what you think, isn't it? That I'm a pretty nice guy? Way nicer than Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea grins. "Oh yeah, <i>definitely</i> nicer than Gordon," she titters.<br/>
<br/>
"And you like that," you tell her. "I'm a nice guy so you like me. You want to help me. You're my assistant, after all." Yeah, assistant certainly sounds better.<br/>
<br/>
"Right, yeah, of course!" she replies cheerily. "So, what are we going to do then, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
What you <i>want</i> to do is to pull Chelsea in, grab her and squeeze her, kiss her neck, maybe even go all the way with her. But you hold off on that, much as it hurts to do, because you've got more important work to concern yourself with right now. You've already explained the buffering process and so you tell her to go grab that and work on polishing the masks while you get the runes carved onto the band. As you work, you muse in your head that you kind of feel like a real magician as you steal a glance at Chelsea. After all, every magician has a beautiful assistant, right?<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's managed to finished a small handful of masks to your one band by the time you look at you look at your phone and see that it's closing in on nine. You decide to call it a night but not before asking Chelsea to shoot a text to Deanna. When she asks what you want her to say, you tell her to make up a story that you want to meet her at Salvation Donuts in the morning before school. From there, you'll take care of the rest.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your parents are surprised to see you taking off so early the next morning. You spin a yarn about how you left one of your books with someone you were with last night and who you don't otherwise share any classes with so you need to catch up to them before school to get it back. In truth, of course, you actually head over to Salvation Donuts and there, in a table in the farthest corner and away from prying eyes, Deanna Showalter sits staring at her phone. Thankfully, of some of the pre-school hangout spots, the Salvation is the least trafficked.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you say as you take a seat across from her. "I didn't expect to see you here. This seat occupied?"<br/>
<br/>
"It will be," she says as she glances up from her phone. "What do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
It's a chilly reception because, of course, you're a nobody compared to who she's thinking she's going to meet. But of course, that will all change soon enough. But you need to ease into it. "Well I just saw you so I thought I'd ask about, well..." She cocks an eyebrow, telling you to get on with it. "Has Lisa said anything about me? Like at all?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," comes the terse response as her face scrunches up and you feel the air cool by about twenty degrees. "I don't really pay attention to what she says either. Is that what you wanted to talk about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, uh, yeah. The two of you always hang out with Kelsey and them so I kind of figured..." You trail off as you reach in your pocket and grasp the mind band. "Sorry, that was dumb of me. I'll leave you alone then," you say but as you get up you let a look of concern wash over your face. "Hey, are you feeling alright?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" asks Deanna, now looking a little annoyed.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't look all that comfortable. Are you sick or something? Maybe I can feel if you're warm or—" you say as you reach a hand out.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you—" but she's cut off as you place your hand on her forehead. Her head lolls back as the band enters into her, her eyes wide and breathing steady as it begins to do its thing. After a few minutes the band comes out and you snatch it, just in time to hear the ring of a bell as the door opens. You see a few kids from school and get nervous, though they go and sit on the opposite side of the place, out of sight.<br/>
<br/>
You reach down into the backpack to grab the mask and place it on her before she stirs but you pause. It'll be another few minutes for the mask to copy. Then you have to apply the goop and light it. All here in the restaurant. You're out of sight now, sure, but you might not always be and if someone comes along during that time...<br/>
<br/>
Well, you're copying Deanna for her knowledge. You have it all on this band so maybe it'd be better to just give a quick apology to Deanna when she wakes up and skedaddle. Put the band on and you'd know everything she does and could just find a good hiding spot yourself.<span class="fikjnfmih369"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113521
author_id: rugal
title: The Advisor
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Having Deanna's mind would be great and all—it's why you picked her after all—but you're unsure of your ability to actually sift through everything to find out who best to set yourself up as. Deanna also has use beyond simply being someone there for you to choose a hiding spot and besides, when you're <i>in</i> that hiding spot you don't know if you'd even have access to it. That is to say, to impersonate someone you'd need their brain as well as their body but would you be able to wear another mind band while wearing Deanna's? Maybe it's something you should experiment with but you're unsure about that. What if trying to wear two brain bands fries your brain or makes you go insane?<br/>
<br/>
It's not really worth the risk so yeah, you'll need to get a mask of her as well. But you're startled when the bell rings once again and you turn to the door. It doesn't look like anyone you recognize from school walking in and in fact, it looks someone college age or a little older. Considering all you have to do, trying to finish it here may not be the best idea. Especially as Deanna starts to stir. You shove the band into your pocket and take your seat before she's fully come to.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you okay?" you ask with concern.<br/>
<br/>
"Am I—" she pauses and looks at you with heavy, groggy eyes. "Wha' happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"I went to try and feel your forehead because I thought you looked kinda sick," you explain, "but, uh, right before I did you kinda passed out on me."<br/>
<br/>
"I... huh?" she grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you nod. "It was pretty scary. I didn't really know what to do and I didn't know if I should have called an ambulance or something."<br/>
<br/>
"No... no," Deanna yawns, "I'm just kinda tired. I didn't really sleep well on account of... well, it's none of your business."<br/>
<br/>
You think you know what she's talking about, a meeting with Chelsea is just too exciting for someone like her you'd bet, and so you decide to needle her. Though not in an obvious way. "Oh, right, uh Chelsea showed up while you were out." You watch Deanna's eyes bug out as that perks her up more than any coffee. "I guess you were supposed to meet her or something? I told her what happened and she just kind of snorted and said to tell you she'd meet up with you later. She made some pissy remark about having to reschedule."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh jeez!" she cries as she pushes herself up. "This? It never happened, got it? Don't tell <i>anyone</i> about... about..."<br/>
<br/>
"My lips are sealed," you tell her, "but you're still going to school? Even after..."<br/>
<br/>
Deanna glares at you hard and then walks off. You give it a few minutes and then leave yourself. You can't help but feel good as you walk to your truck and you're pretty sure you feel yourself smirk. It's too bad you couldn't get Deanna then and there but you feel like you've managed to salvage it all the same. All you need to do is get in touch with Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>I need u to set up w/ deanna again</i>, you text to Chelsea as you sit in Walberg's class waiting for the bell to ring and class to start.<br/>
<br/>
Her reply is quick in coming. <i>y? i thought u got it?</i> As succinctly as you can you explain what happened and why you had to pull back on completing things. <i>I told her u said somthin bout rescehdule</i> you send. <i>when would be a good time to do it?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>iirc deannas got stdy hall 5th. that could be good</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Can u skip 5th?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>ya! its a total bs class!</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Can u reserve the loft? We can do it in there.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>np,</i> comes the quick reply. <i>btw gordon is bein a butt. can u fix him?</i><br/>
<br/>
You ask what she means by that but the bell rings and you tell her that you'll worry about it later. You send another text telling her to message you when everything's set for fifth... just in time for Walberg to say that class has started so phones are to be put away. Though he's addressing the class, he's looking squarely at you as he says it and all you can think is that soon enough, you won't be dealing with his shit anymore.<br/>
<br/>
You spend most of the rest of the day antsy and anxious. It's about a quarter of the way through lunch when you get a message from Chelsea telling you that everything's ready to go. You message her back to tell her that you'll be right over and to wait for you outside the loft. After all (though you leave this part out) you'd probably be killed if someone saw you sneaking up there on your own and it got back to Patterson or any of them.<br/>
<br/>
Making up an excuse about someone contacting you to meet them in the library (and being evasive on who it is), you say your goodbyes and head over to the gym. Inside, you find Chelsea waiting at the bottom of the stairs. You double check to make sure you've got everything you need in your backpack and after pulling out the mask, Chelsea hustles you upstairs. Deanna doesn't have time to do much more than let out a yelp of surprise before you've jammed the mask onto her face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"That was a risky thing you tried pulling with me this morning," Deanna says as you sit with her in the library. "That place is way more trafficked than you think."<br/>
<br/>
Once the deed was done and Deanna was now under your control, you told Chelsea that you needed to talk to her in private. But without Chelsea around you weren't going to be able to stay up in the loft so you've made your way over to a back corner of the library—where Deanna usually is since this is her study hall—to spend the rest of the period. You've already caught her up on what's happened so now it's just a matter of getting her settled into her role and getting her help in picking out your hiding spot.<br/>
<br/>
"That's true but I really needed you. I guess I just got a little ahead of myself."<br/>
<br/>
"Obviously," she replies nonchalantly. "But why me? You could've told Chelsea to get you Charles."<br/>
<br/>
She's referring, of course, to Charles Hartlein; another gossip and the most flagrantly homosexual student at Westside. In addition he's known to be very self-assured in a pushy, prima donnaish way. It's that last quality that causes your face to scrunch up. "I don't think Chelsea would ever be in contact with him," you say. "Besides, I'd rather have <i>you</i> at my side than him."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that so?" says Deanna coyly.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, you're much better looking," you muse. "You're going to be my advisor, my right hand, after all."<br/>
<br/>
"That's putting a lot of trust in me," she says with some surprise. "Chelsea's the queen bee after all, not me. Hell, I'm half-on the outs with Kelsey and her gang right now."<br/>
<br/>
Is that so? You certainly didn't know that but it's not really of any concern right now. What is, is getting her into the right mindset, just like with Chelsea. "Well, I don't really know anyone who knows the school better than you do," you tell her as you take her hand. "You want to help me, and I <i>want</i> you to help me, right?"<br/>
<br/>
A look of realization hits her and she nods. "Yeah, okay. I'm fine with that," she smiles and then titters. "You've got a real way with words, you know that, Will? I never would have expected it but then again, I guess I never really had much of an opinion on you before."<br/>
<br/>
That's unsurprising but still a second blow to your ego in as many minutes. The first coming when Deanna had to stop by where her friends were sitting to say she needed to spend some time with you since you needed her help specifically on "personal stuff." You could tell they were sizing you up and you know that they were probably being fairly disapproving or dismissive. That really just hardened your resolve about what you were doing, though. You may be a nobody now but hopefully soon enough you'll be a nobody with the school under his thumb.<br/>
<br/>
Which leads you back to the first reason you've grabbed Deanna. "Speaking of people you have opinions on," you start, "I need your help in finding me a good identity."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not staying as yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hell no!" you declare. "What's the fun in running things if I'm still going to be dealing with assholes like Wahlberg or Kirkham? And if I suddenly become popular or get in good with people like Chelsea, then I figure that'll be weird and paint a target on my back. I want an identity that's good but might be easy to overlook as the person truly running Westside. So what do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do I think, huh?" Deanna says with a thoughtful expression. "Well, first thing's first... what do you want to be?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do I want to be?" you reiterate.<br/>
<br/>
"Right," she replies, "like are you going to be a guy or a girl? And is this just going to be for the rest of the year or more long term? Because if it's the latter, then maybe you'd want to set yourself up as an underclassman. I mean nobody would really suspect a junior or sophomore of pulling Chelsea's strings, right?"<br/>
<br/>
She's... completely right, you realize. You hadn't really given it much thought at all and when put like that, it's mostly been an idea you've been playing by ear since yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
"There's also the opposite route," she continues. "You know, take over a teacher? That'd start you off in a position of authority. I think..." She pauses and you see her working things over in her head. "I think <i>if</i> you became a teacher, then Ms. Simeon would probably be your best bet."<br/>
<br/>
"Why her?"<br/>
<br/>
"She runs one of the clubs, the Mentors' Club actually," she explains. "It's got a good mix of people. Some underclassmen, some jocks like Marc Garner, Kim Walsh..."<br/>
<br/>
You almost want to hoot. Deanna's already paying dividends for you and helping you focus things on what you want to do and who you should be. The thing is, you still need to actually decide whose identity you should take for your own.<span class="fikjnfmii369"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135212
author_id: rugal
title: Choosing Cinderella
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You're not really sure what the best option of any of those would be and frankly you're not even sure if you have much in the way of a preference. Would being a guy be better? A girl? What would be the advantages and disadvantages of each? So you keep your attention on Deanna. "What do you think?" you ask her. "Tell me what you think would be the best choice."<br/>
<br/>
"Honest opinion?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Honest opinion."<br/>
<br/>
"Ms. Simeon," she says without even a moment's hesitation. "Like I said, she runs a club with some of the names you'd already given me as people you were looking at. So if they wanted to hang around or have her set up a second club... well, I doubt anyone would look sideways. And nobody's going to be dumb enough to mess with a teacher, either."<br/>
<br/>
That's a good point, of course. Being Ms. Simeon, or just about any teacher, would basically be like playing with cheat codes enabled. But there's the problem of the fact that you have no idea how <i>you</i> would get close to her. You had her in math your freshman year when she was a newer teacher and you remember her as being younger and cute in that nerdy, mousy, and attainable sort of way. But it's not like you stood out to her; it's not like she knows you. So how to even approach her?<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it's your impatience getting the better of you because you quickly dismiss the idea. "That would be difficult, so," you say before pausing. If you were a freshman you'd have an easier time grabbing her and that dovetails into thoughts of grabbing an underclassman as your identity. But how long do you plan on hanging around as the shadow ruler of the school? Would you really want to lock yourself into two, three, or even four years of this?<br/>
<br/>
Well... no, not really. So that idea comes and goes as well.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, senior guys or senior girls," you say. "I want you to tell me which you think is better."<br/>
<br/>
Deanna gives it a brief moment of thought before speaking. "Go with a girl," she finally says.<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"The way I see it, it's the girls who really run things around school," she answers with what you detect is a hint of arrogance. "Chelsea and Kelsey and the like have guys wrapped around their fingers, for one. And if you were a guy, you'd still have to deal with all of that macho testosterone crap."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that supposed to mean?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean if you're trying to be somebody that nobody would suspect of running things, it'd probably be the type of person who can easily get on the wrong side of someone like, I don't know, Gary Chen." She pauses to let it sink in for you. "But nobody, not even a guy like him, is going to put their hands on a girl. They'll grumble and grouse but know that they're effectively powerless."<br/>
<br/>
"That's true, I guess, but wouldn't I still have to deal with stuff from girls?"<br/>
<br/>
"Theoretically, I guess," Deanna responds, "but girls are way more social. You tell the right people to send out the right words or lean on the right people and you'll be pretty well insulated from the worst of it."<br/>
<br/>
Deanna seems pretty confident in her assertion. Few are going to know the nitty gritty of the social dynamics at Westside as well as her and stuff like this <i>is</i> why you recruited her so it would be pointless to then completely disregard her opinion, wouldn't it? After all, you did tell her that she's your advisor, not a sounding board.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I trust you. If you say that I'd be best positioned inside a girl," you have to stop yourself from smirking dopily at the double entendre, "then who's identity should I take?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're down in the basement-cum-workshop where you've been for most of the afternoon since school let out, barring a brief trip home to check in with your mom immediately after school finished. You're giving Chelsea and Deanna the day off from helping you out with the making of things. Chelsea is just going through a normal day for her while you wait for Deanna to compile some possible identities and then email them—as you figure that method's a lot safer from being discovered—to you.<br/>
<br/>
You're actually taking a break when you get a notification on your phone from your email app. You assume it's probably from Deanna and your hunch turns out to be right when at around the same time you get a text from her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>take a look. sry its so much lol</i><br/>
<br/>
You thank her and then, with curiosity killing you, you impatiently open the app. You wonder just what she could mean by "so much" and you let out a small whistle when you see. It's a long list of girls, of possible identities. Not just names but with Deanna's own descriptions and thoughts and links to their social media pages and all of them grouped into categories. It's definitely a lot to take in and so you decide to put aside your work for the rest of the day so you have as much time as possible to take in everything.<br/>
<br/>
You'd like to get settled into a new identity tomorrow, if possible, so you need to make a choice and tell both Deanna and Chelsea so one or both of them can help get it set up for you.<br/>
<br/>
And to do that means finally doing something you've so far put off doing as you eye the blank masks and bands that sit on the table.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Dinner and the rest of the evening proceeds as normal. You tell your parents that you're heading up early to do some homework and in a sense, you're not lying. But it's not the type of homework that they probably expect or want you to be doing. Instead, this homework is different and much more important. That schoolwork? Well, you're not really going to have to worry about it much longer are you?<br/>
<br/>
It's a freeing feeling, knowing that you won't have to be stuck with all the bullshit anymore. No more shit from your dad, no more annoying little brother, no more guff from your teachers. You won't be totally free from things like schoolwork, of course, but neither will you be at the bottom of the totem pole anymore. Even if you have to put in a bit of work, once things get going then you feel like you'll definitely be way better off than you are now. And who knows? Maybe once you feel like this has run its course and the school year is over, maybe you can even slip back into your old life if your replacement hasn't screwed it up for you.<br/>
<br/>
Yes sir, it's going to be a marked improvement for you, you think as you begin to look at the groups and the names contained therein. After studying them for a while, you start to feel like you need to make a decision and so find yourself zeroing in one of the groups so you can render a final verdict.<span class="fikjnfmii369"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111352121
author_id: rugal
title: One Step Below
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>The second tier girls. You figure you know what that means but you take a look at the introduction that Deanna wrought all the same. These are girls, so she writes, who are just below that upper strata of popularity or who might seem a little lower but have the potential to break out. Girls who wield considerable social cachet in their own right even if they're below a Chelsea Cooper or Kelsey Blankenship.<br/>
<br/>
So who are these girls, anyway? Deanna, helpfully, has some profiles written up on them with links to their social media so you take the time to start browsing and reading. The first person makes you want to smack your head because she's such an obvious no brainer. A sexy, full-figured no brainer with dark hair, large breasts, a plump ass, and thighs that look as soft and thick as pillows.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Victoria Rodriguez probably needs no introduction but I'll write about her for you all the same. She's hot, all the guys totally drool when you mention her name. She's got her own little gang of lackeys as well and enough attitude that she's not going to take much guff from anyone. But that's probably why she's not at the tippy top of the social hierarchy. Too much attitude and too much of a threat to Chelsea and the others so while they can't ruin her, they can do everything they can to keep her from rising any higher.</i><br/>
<br/>
Of course, that's a problem and you'd admittedly be iffy about the fact she has a boyfriend with whom she seems very close. But Victoria wields power and is a babe besides so she's still an enticing choice.<br/>
<br/>
The second person you look at is Sophie Van den Berg, a girl who you don't really know but you see that she's pretty all the same. And her house is certainly... something. It looks to be nice and fancy but also quite old.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sophie's an interesting case. Her family is old money rich, like they apparently go back to the earliest days of the town. But I guess things have been stagnant for them because they're below all the new money types like Kelsey or that Jonathan Straussler guy from Eastman. I'm on decent enough terms with her and she's a nice girl, studies hard, all that jazz. Can't stand Kelsey though and I know Kelsey definitely looks down on her. It's great that they're both on the tennis team, huh?</i><br/>
<br/>
For yourself, you almost brush it off because as far as you're concerned rich is rich. And what you see is a rich girl connected to Kelsey Blankenship so she's someone for you to seriously consider.<br/>
<br/>
The next name you look at almost causes you to double take because you certainly wouldn't have expected to see Brianna Kirschke's name on her. Not that you know her all that well but you're passingly familiar with her and you know her simply as a band girl that doesn't seem to be all that above you or your friends. So you wonder what Deanna's reasoning is.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Surprised, aren't you? I kind of surprised myself with this pick too but I thought about it and it actually makes total sense! Brianna's in the marching band and she's kind of like the centerpiece of a large group. I don't think she's the "leader" or whatever but she kind of seems like the glue that holds everything together. I think if she tried to put herself out there more she could definitely be more popular than she is. Also, her family runs a bakery so hey, free food! Everybody loves muffins, right?</i><br/>
<br/>
Having read that, her logic for including Brianna definitely makes sense and since the point of this is to be a bit under the radar, then she certainly fits the bill better than almost anyone. So you keep her name in mind as a strong possibility.<br/>
<br/>
There's another surprising girl on the list, although unlike Brianna you're not familiar with her at all. She's a girl with some meat on her but she's certainly not bad looking either. She's no bigger than Victoria and though she's not as shapely she certainly wears it well. Her face is cute, you decide, in an attainable way and her wavy hair, a mix of what looks to be natural dark brown and a striking dyed turquoise, certainly stands out.<br/>
<br/>
It's a body you wouldn't mind having, truth be told.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Janelle Pelletier is a name that's big with all the artsy fartsy types. She's in the drama program and I hear that she's really well regarded by everyone involved in it. I guess she mostly writes stuff but apparently she's decent enough when she has to be on stage too. Apparently, Wilkes is letting her write this big play that the theater kids are going to be putting on near the end of the school year and it's the first time he's ever done that so it's a really big deal and people outside of that circle are starting to take notice of her. She does come with a boyfriend though in Felix Padilla who's also involved with the theater. Maybe he's her muse?</i><br/>
<br/>
It's surprising but like all of Deanna's other suggestions you can't say that it doesn't make sense once you've read her notes. Janelle seems to be someone on the rise and would also be your ticket into the bohemian world.<br/>
<br/>
The last name... you stop when you see it. You almost don't want to read it because you feel like you shouldn't need her explained to you. You almost want to instantly disregard it and send an incredulous message back to Deanna for even including her. But you can't deny that she'd be useful either and when you think, there's something dark in you that's enticed and excited by the idea, even if it's something that's wholly audacious.<br/>
<br/>
After all, what better way to get back at Kelsey and all the other AP snobs who sneered at you? What better way to get back at that prick Mansfield? What better way to get back at Lisa Yarborough than by appropriating her looks, her body, her very life and making them your own? What better way to have Lisa, to so thoroughly possess her, than to become her? With thoughts like these running through your mind, you decide to look at what Deanna wrote, what her reasoning is. You're surprised by its brevity.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I can't stand this bitch. Go nuts.</i><br/>
<br/>
It seems to snap you out of the dark place you'd allowed your mind to wander into. Seeing it put so succinctly makes you realize how petty picking her might be. Certainly the reasons for doing it would be. And yet you can't deny that the temptation is there. Which is maybe why you should really decide on what you want to do and send a name back to Deanna.<span class="QbcRddgOKK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111352122
author_id: rugal
title: Athletic Pursuits
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Athletes; you don't even bother to read whatever introduction Deanna's written up for you because there's not much to say on that part. It's the girls who are part of teams. They run, jump, shoot three pointers and kick balls into nets. Some of the most popular and desirable girls in school—your Chelsea Coopers and Catherine Muskovs and Andrea Varnsworths—are on one team or the other, usually as a captain. So if you want to good hub to work from, then an athlete is it.<br/>
<br/>
You quickly move onto the names Deanna has listed and begin to look up both them and her accompanying notes.<br/>
<br/>
The first candidate on the list actually leaves you a little perplexed because she doesn't seem like an athlete at all. She looks rough but you wouldn't say that it's in a haggard way. She's a decent looking girl but she also looks like she doesn't bother with too much make up. Her hair is long and blonde but it seems dyed, not natural, and her eyes are an icy blue with the kind of hard glare. She reminds you a bit of Stephanie Wyatt now that you think about it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>This is going to seem like a weird choice because Vanessa Bailey isn't an athlete; but she used to be! See, this all happened last year so I heard about it through the grapevine. But the story goes that Vanessa was on the girls' JV basketball team and was really good too, but she and Stephanie Wyatt didn't get along at all. A lot of arguing and getting heated and all that. Well one day at practice, it boils over and Vanessa starts a fight with Stephanie, like a real deal one!<br/>
<br/>
And Vanessa got kicked off of the team over it so now she holds a huge grudge against Stephanie. She developed a real big attitude over the whole thing and I've heard that she bullies some of the girls lower on the social ladder now. I think she's still friendly with some of the girls on the team but she got pulled into Victoria Rodriguez's group not long afterwards. Pretty neat, huh?</i><br/>
<br/>
You don't know if "neat" is the word you'd use but you do find the idea of this girl and Stephanie getting into a catfight interesting. Or maybe it'd be more like a rottweiler versus a lioness. You don't know about becoming someone who's apparently a bit of a bully, lord knows you've dealt with them enough, but connections to Victoria and the basketball team are useful all the same.<br/>
<br/>
The next girl on the list is a friendly-looking blonde. Her skin has a nice, natural tan and she's sturdily built with wide hips. The kind of cornfed girl that looks like she'd be as comfortable driving a tractor as throwing a ball.<br/>
<br/>
<i>As you may or may not know, Maggie Crenshaw is on the softball team and not just on it but she's the captain. So leadership, that's a good quality to have for someone who wants to run things. But she's a fun girl too. Real big personality, the kind that can dominate a room if she didn't watch herself. People like having her around. Very charismatic.</i><br/>
<br/>
Nothing that Deanna noted is wrong. Leadership and the charisma to go with it are good qualities for what you want to do. You wonder if it'd be a good idea to grab her even if you decide against wearing her face.<br/>
<br/>
The third profile is another blonde though she's much different from either Lacey or Maggie. She lacks the tanning they do and her figure is a little fuller though not in a bad way. She has a pretty face but it's pretty in a very unpretentious way.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The first two was obvious but Nicole Yeager is where I really started trying to think outside the box for you. She's on the girls' lacrosse team but she's not the captain and not a star player. There's prettier girls on the team like Jackie Guzman and Tanya Marconi, so what gives? A lot of people just... seem to like her. She's not going to win a popularity contest but you can see for yourself that she's not lacking for friends. She's had a few boyfriends—and some of them are catches!—and even remains on good terms with them after they break up. So there's... something about her that people like. I guess she's just nice?</i><br/>
<br/>
Deanna seems to be having a hard time describing Nicole and you can kind of get why but at the same time you think you also get what she's going for. There's something very soothing and comforting about Nicole, from the way she looks to the way she seems to carry herself in pictures. And someone that low key and that effortless? Yeah, she could be a real underrated pick.<br/>
<br/>
The next one to look at is Katrina Schwarz, a harsh looking girl with long sandy hair. She's certainly not unattractive but her gaze and demeanor have a hardness to them... which makes the pictures where she looks looser surprising.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Katrina Schwarz is on the soccer team and oh boy is that a mess that I could write a novel about! The TL;DR is that Hannah Westrick came over from Eastman and immediately fought Anita Nuevo for the captaincy and that totally split the team into pro-Anita and pro-Hannah camps. From what I've gathered, Katrina's in the pro-Hannah camp because she's, like, super serious about the team and thinks that Hannah's a better leader but she doesn't hate Anita or anything like that. I've heard she also works with the JV squad and they like her. She's a serious girl who's dating the not-so-serious Sean Wilcox so try to figure that out!</i><br/>
<br/>
The soccer team does sound like a mess but you do some more looking around and almost whistle. This Hannah girl is dating Marc Garner, one of <i>the</i> top guys in school. So grabbing a soccer player and one connected to Marc's girlfriend suddenly makes Katrina more enticing.<br/>
<br/>
The last girl on the list is certainly nice to look at. Her most distinguishing feature is her hair, long, brown, kinky and voluminous. She's got a bit of an overbite and when she smiles her cheeks puff out. It makes her look kind of like a squirrel, you think, but that's not a bad thing given that people find squirrels cute.<br/>
<br/>
<i>So, this is Christine Miles and as you can probably tell from her socials she's on the tennis team. She's pretty and popular but there's a caveat: she's a junior. I know you said you wanted seniors but I think she'd be a really good catch. She's on the AP track and she's dating a boy named Zion Barber who's super popular. So popular that he's the junior class president and is like being groomed by Kim to take over for her next year or something. But her reputation seems mixed. Like I said she's popular and she seems to be pretty bright and friendly and all that. But there's a lot of chatter on x2z about how she's actually a huge two-faced bitch who spreads gossip and slander behind everyone's back. No idea what's true and what isn't, that's for you to decide.</i><br/>
<br/>
Maybe she is and maybe she isn't? You don't know how seriously you should be taking x2z chatter but it's something to keep in mind. And you did want a senior but junior or not, this Christine girl is definitely an attractive option from the information presented.<br/>
<br/>
So you mull over the names and weigh the pros and cons of each one. Every name that Deanna presented to you seems good and you do a lot of thinking on just which person you'd like to be. In the end, you come to a decision and fire off a text to Deanna's phone.<br/>
<br/>
<i>thought it over. i'd like to be...</i><span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111352123
author_id: rugal
title: Femme Fatales
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You look up and down but your interest is drawn to a group labeled as "Warehouse Girls," who you assume are girls that, well, frequent the Warehouse. It's a place you've never been out to before but you certainly know of it: a popular weekend hangout spot for high schoolers. But from what you've heard this isn't like the Monte, instead it's a place to drink and dance and engage in all kinds of other hedonistic pursuits. You'd bet that as one of them you could have your share of fun out there with little problem.<br/>
<br/>
But there seems to be more to it than that from what Deanna's typed up. <i>A lot of these girls exist on the margins,</i> her message states. <i>Not socially or anything but of the mainstream. The girls who don't conform to the more rigid hierarchies of Westside.</i><br/>
<br/>
In other words, underground types. Artsy and indie and all that other fun stuff. But it's still worth looking at so you begin to research the first name on the list: Rebecca Sykes. She's a nice looking girl, a bit flashy, and seems to have a thing for coats and low cut tops that display her rather ample assets. And you see pictures of her at the Warehouse and at lots of parties with lots of people.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Rebecca Sykes is a real party girl. If there's one going on the chances are she knows about it and will be there. I don't know if I'd say she's the center of any scene but she's around and sees and knows a lot and is generally pretty well liked. For this group, she probably knows more about the ins and outs than anyone else, including me. A lot more clever than you'd think too. But she comes with a boyfriend so you'd have to deal with that.</i><br/>
<br/>
That boyfriend is probably the guy you see her with in a lot of photos.<br/>
<br/>
You move on to a girl named Lori Sherman. She's pale and thin but her face is cute with big doe eyes and hair dyed a bright blue. Like with Rebecca, you see a lot of pictures of her at the Warehouse and a lot in particular with a guy who you don't recognize.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Lori's a wannabe social activist but truth be told she spends more time partying with her friends and boyfriend than she does "fighting the good fight" or whatever. Probably because she's too drunk and/or pilled to really do anything else. Except for her boyfriend. But he goes to Eastman and he's not always around so I've heard that Lori likes to disappear with other guys because they're "not exclusive" but you probably shouldn't tell her boyfriend that!</i><br/>
<br/>
You're not sure you like the rest of it but someone with connections to Eastman might prove useful if you want to expand over to there eventually.<br/>
<br/>
From there it's a girl you're at least a little familiar with because she sits next to you in second period. Mia DeWitt is a small girl but incredibly cute with long, wavy, auburn hair usually topped by a beret or some sort of other hat. But you don't really know her beyond that.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mia's a nice girl, really outgoing and popular. She hangs around with the artsy types but I see her with lots of different people too. She's really flirty with guys but I don't think I've seen her with a boyfriend or anything like that. I'd bet more than a few of the guys she hangs out with would definitely want something more from her though. But yeah, she flits in and out of groups as needed so that'd probably make her pretty useful.</i><br/>
<br/>
Next on the list is another girl you have vague familiarity with: Dorothy Harmon. You share Walberg's class with her and she's not bad looking at all; a girl with dark hair, just the right amount of meat and nice, large breasts. But that's about where your knowledge of her begins and ends so you look at what Deanna's written.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Dorothy... she's an interesting choice. Her list of friends is like someone threw darts at a list of names. She's really good friends with engineering nerd Rachel Bell and she she hangs around a lot with a thug like Jordana Trujillo and Bethany Lewis who's a swimmer and, well, it kind of goes on like that. But she's also got a reputation for being pretty loose and easy so if you want to be her then I hope you're prepared to really be her.</i><br/>
<br/>
You suppose that being a slut isn't really the impression that Dorothy's ever given you but then it's not like you actually know her so how cany you be surprised?<br/>
<br/>
The last name on the list is Tara Stills. She's a very punk looking girl with her hair dyed bright pink. She's pretty, but her pictures always show a girl who looks nervous or vaguely unhappy, even when she's smiling. One thing that worries you is some of the guys you see her hanging around with: guys like Joshua Call or Nicholas Horner. The low lifes.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Tara Stills is probably not the best name on the list admittedly. I think she lives over in the trailer park so I've seen her hang around with drama magnets like Melanie Saxon and Brianna Gould. She hangs around a lot of boys too but it's definitely not the ones I'd be caught dead around. I don't know if she does anything with them or not but I wouldn't be surprised. But I don't think I've ever heard of her causing any problems or bullying anyone herself, either.</i><br/>
<br/>
Yeah, the idea of possibly being a fuck toy for the scumbags of the school isn't appealing at all. But one thought does occur to you: it might be good to have someone like Chen under your control and if this girl hangs around that crowd then she'd probably be a means to getting him. All of them, in fact, seem like they'd have their uses even if there's parts of them that make them seem initially undesirable. Like Dorothy's easiness might seem a drawback but then if you need to get masks onto certain guys, she'd be like a Mata-Hari.<br/>
<br/>
So you'll go with one of these girls. The question is, which one would be the best, the most useful, or the least objectionable?<span class="flgnhfkjfel3610"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111352124
author_id: rugal
title: Don't Forget the Jokers
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Wild cards, huh? You wonder what she means by that though you see that Deanna seems to have thought ahead and helpfully provided a small description for you: <i>You can call this the misc. category. These are girls that are easy to overlook but could also go far with the right pushes. If you want to really be in the shadows then you should look at them.</i><br/>
<br/>
Look at them you do and you're surprised by the first name on the list because it's someone that you know quite well: Jenny Ashton. She's a girl that you eat lunch with most days, someone that you talk to quite a bit... so why would <i>she</i> make this list? That's when you realize that you don't really know as much about her as you'd like. Sure, you'd consider her a friend but you don't really talk to her much outside of the context of school and the times you have hung out with her away from there, it's always been in the company of James and Carson and your other buddies. You've never really talked to her much one-on-one and never about anything really significant.<br/>
<br/>
So you keep reading and see Deanna's reasoning.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You know her real well of course so I probably don't need to repeat any of this but what the hey! So Jenny knows a lot of people. She's Yumi's best friend. She's friends with Cindy and Eva and Jessica. She knows girls on the soccer team, on the volleyball team, in the marching band even. Jenny's kind of everywhere but not really anywhere. If anyone was set up to be the secret ruler of Westside then she's probably in the best position of anyone I can think of.</i><br/>
<br/>
You knew about Yumi and the other cheerleaders but not really anything else and that reasoning that Deanna provides makes a lot of sense. You probably wouldn't even need her help to get Jenny as well but there's a thought that enters into your mind: could you really do that? Just replace a friend like that?<br/>
<br/>
Next is a girl named Leah Simmons. From looking at her socials, she's not anyone you recognize but with her short hair and manner of dress she looks like an even bigger tomboy than Jenny. She seems to get out quite a bit though and you see her smiling in lots of pictures with lots of people.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Leah's a real life of the party type. She likes to go out and have fun and she seems to have little problems getting along with people. From what I know, she hangs around a lot with the marching band types but I see her at parties and stuff all the time too. She's also pretty close with Jack Li who's a totally great guy and knows a lot. Way better than Charles lol! Oh and I share choir with her so I could probably get her no problem.</i><br/>
<br/>
You next look at a girl named Abigail Kane. She's not bad but neither does she stand out in her looks, though she dresses in a manner that makes her look like some kind of punkish nerd. You notice that there's a good amount of pictures of her close to a pretty handsome-looking guy as well, to your surprise.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Okay, so, Abigail. She's in the orchestra and hangs around with some girls like Kristin Yetter and the like. I know her and she's a nice enough girl, but she's a bit more reserved and under the radar than them too. Although she does come with a boyfriend and I don't know how you'd like dealing with that, but get this: that boyfriend is George Basham! Super mega rich guy! The kind of guy who can compete on equal footing with Kelsey!</i><br/>
<br/>
You don't know how keen you are on being a girl who's already spoken for but a guy who can compete with Kelsey, huh? If you were his girlfriend then getting a mask on him would be simple, and if you could get masks on both him <i>and</i> Kelsey...<br/>
<br/>
But you put aside those thoughts and instead look with surprise at the next name on the list. Like Jenny, you know her well enough but while you can see the point in including Jenny as a wild card, you wonder about the inclusion of...<br/>
<br/>
<i>Cassie Harper, weird choice I know but you'd be surprised at the wide net that she casts though. She hangs around with some girls I know and some girls that are even associated with Victoria Rodriguez. She's friends with girls who get out to parties and the Warehouse and I think she may even know people that go to Eastman? She's got a part time job pretty close to there anyway. Oh and you know her, right? She'd probably be pretty easy to get.</i><br/>
<br/>
Indeed, you do know her. She's a chatterbox and always talking to you about something or other in the classes you share with her. To be sure Cassie is a cute girl but she also doesn't seem to possess an off switch which makes dealing with her exhausting. If it wasn't for that you might even try asking her out because you think she might agree to it but class is hard enough and you don't think you'd be able to deal with it for an entire date.<br/>
<br/>
The last name in the group is one that's not immediately familiar to you, as truth be told you have no idea who Karen Rogers is. When you look at her pictures you want to say you've seen her around some and you think you might even share a class with her but you're not sure. The girls she hangs around with are definitely... well, they're not the cheerleaders that's for sure. Karen seems to be the best looking of them but she's also more on the margins of pictures, never in the center.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I admit I don't know a lot about Karen but when you think about it, doesn't that mean she's perfect? She and her friends definitely aren't all that popular and from the little bit I know or can find she seems shy and quiet so who would ever expect someone like her of secretly running everything? I think that she's the last person anyone would look at.</i><br/>
<br/>
She definitely has a point there. On its face, Karen is maybe the least appealing choice but that actually does serve to enhance her appeal and with you controlling Chelsea and all the others, then what do you even have to worry about being at the bottom of the social ladder for? Hell, you could even move her up a bit if you wanted because Karen looks to have the potential to move up a few rungs unlike most of her friends.<br/>
<br/>
All of these girls have their appeal and fit well with your idea of being someone that nobody would suspect of being in charge. Your tomboy friend, a cheery-looking extrovert, an orchestra girl dating a rich kid, a conversational bulldozer, and a shrinking violet. It's an eclectic mix of individuals and you decide that you'll get to know one of them much more intimately. With a little thought you decide on a name and then send it off to Deanna.<span class="fjmgjjgemggf3711"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113521245
author_id: rugal
id: T79K9RHBL
title: Study Buddies
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You don't give an immediate answer and instead simply tell Deanna that you need to think about it... which is true. You're having a tough time really making up your mind and even as you go to sleep for the night you still haven't come to any kind of decision.<br/>
<br/>
That night, though, you have a vivid dream. There's a girl, nervous and shy as she walks through the halls of school. The most popular girl in school stops her, glares at her, and tells her that they have business to discuss. Her friends titter while the girl gulps and agrees. She follows the popular girl through a school that's seemingly turned into a labyrinth and into a hidden, foreboding room. Figures—other students and all far more popular than her—surround the girl as she walks in. Her heart races, her breath is more excited... and then she smirks and the figures kneel. She adjusts the ski cap on her head and laughs. Who would ever suspect <i>her</i> of controlling the school? Of being the boss of all of these popular boys and girls?<br/>
<br/>
In the morning, you send a text to Deanna.<br/>
<br/>
<i>karen rogers. thats who I want</i><br/>
<br/>
Her reply doesn't come until you're about to head out. <i>Oookay I'll think of sumthin ttyl</i><br/>
<br/>
Oh sure, Karen isn't the most attractive choice. Jenny and Leah are both way better looking, that Sarah girl isn't so bad either and even Cassie, you admit, is a little cuter. But not being the most physically attractive choice is exactly what makes her so attractive you decide. On its face, you would't really be increasing your social standing at all if you became her but there's something thrilling about that at the same time: Chelsea and Kelsey and others all having to answer to a girl who's socially little better than you.<br/>
<br/>
It's one thing to simply steal the life of someone popular and run everything as them. It's quite another to completely upend the social order like that. It makes it feel like there's an extra layer of humiliation there; an extra layer of payback. It makes you excited to think about it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So, Karen Rogers, huh?" Deanna asks from the other side of a bookcase. You're skipping out on lunch while this is her study hall so you're meeting in the library though it was her idea that you meet like this so that "rumors don't get started" or some nonsense. "It's an outside the box choice for sure but that's why I gave you her name."<br/>
<br/>
"Will you be able to get her somewhere?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you see, that's the thing," she explains. "I don't know her and don't share any classes with her or anything like that."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Chelsea?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Based on what I've picked up from her social media and her friends' social media... that'd maybe be coming on a little too strong," Deanna states. "It might scare her off. But I've got one of her friends in my next period class so maybe through her I can set something up? Do you need to get this done, like, the second school ends?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really," you answer for you stopped by the school basement before school to grab supplies and noticed that you still needed to make one of those metal doohickeys that copies the brain. "I actually need a little bit of time to get ready. Maybe an hour or two."<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm, alright then. I'll think of something and get back to you." There's a pause before she speaks again. "So, you're really going to do this? Become a girl?"<br/>
<br/>
You're taken slightly aback by that. "That's not weird, right?" you ask with maybe a bit more discomfort than you'd like. "I'm only going of of what you suggested. If you're messing with me—"<br/>
<br/>
"Relax," Deanna replies with a giggle, "I was just asking is all."<br/>
<br/>
With that you separate and once school finally lets out for the day you practically fly to your hideout where you spend the better part of the afternoon working on making that metal band and then gluing it to a polished mask. It's close to supper time when you finally get a series of texts from Deanna telling you that she was able to set up something, under the guise of a get together to study and do homework, at the municipal library at six o'clock.<br/>
<br/>
With barely contained excitement, you wolf down your dinner and tell your parents that you're meeting up with some friends at the library. You quickly gather up everything that you'll need and head out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>where are you???</i><br/>
<br/>
That's the text you send to Deanna as you look around the first floor of the library. There's a corner with tables that's used largely for people who want to read and study and though you see some teenagers there, none of them are Deanna. You finally get an answer when she texts you back to meet her on the third floor. You've never been up there and tell her as such when she meets you at the top of the stairs and she explains that it's largely for staff but there's also some conference rooms and such which can be used after hours if you know the right people.<br/>
<br/>
"And thankfully," she confidently tells you, "my aunt works here so it's all good." She then gets more serious with her follow up. "So I told Lotte Linde in sixth period to organize a study group, invite friends you know? I meant Karen but... she took the plural form a little literally."<br/>
<br/>
She leads you into one of the unused conference rooms where you see Karen and three other girls sitting on either side of one of the ends of a long table. "This is the other person who I was able to get to come," Deanna says as she takes a seat at the head of the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I'm Will," you say casually as you look around and lock eyes with a girl with dark hair. She gives you a friendly smile and says something quietly to the girl next to her who then moves over. The dark-haired girl motions for you to sit in the now vacant seat between them.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Lotte," she says and her voice is warm and honeyed as you take your seat. "That's Gwen," she says pointing to the girl on your other side, "Abby," she motions towards the girl in a pink hoodie directly across from you, "and Karen," she then points out the girl in the ski cap close to Deanna. "So how'd you get roped into this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, I don't know," you say. "Deanna suggested it. I'm having trouble in calculus so—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! Calculus, I thought you looked familiar," says Gwen. "You've got Kowalski for sixth, right?" It's at that moment that you recognize that "Gwen" is Gwendolyn Beene from your calculus class who you know largely because she sits a few seats in front of you and gets some of the scores on the pop quizzes that Mr. Kowalski likes to give.<br/>
<br/>
And from there the atmosphere loosens up a lot.<br/>
<br/>
For a little bit you actually find yourself almost forgetting about the masks as Gwen patiently and carefully explains some things that actually had been giving you trouble and at one point even says that she'd be willing to give you some one-on-one tutoring if you feel like you need it. Of the girls there, she's frankly the plainest of them and the least feminine. She wears jeans and, like the rest of them it seems, a baggy hoodie. Her face is long and she doesn't seem wear much makeup. If it wasn't for her hair, which is very long, and her surprisingly soft voice then you'd almost mistake her for a somewhat girlish boy.<br/>
<br/>
But even as you're getting help from Gwen, you find yourself chatting just as much with Lotte. Not really about schoolwork (besides complaining about certain teachers) but just random topics. Your interests don't overlap all that much but Lotte is chipper and charming in a way that makes her pleasant and easy to converse with and you find she keeps giving you small, bashful smiles and looking away when your eyes meet. And the more you study her, the more you find her to be the cutest of the girls there... Deanna excepted.<br/>
<br/>
Abby, meanwhile, also happens to share a class with you... Walberg's, as it turns out. You don't really recognize her but she says that it's because she sits on the other side of the room and is mostly quiet. "I don't really <i>want</i> to talk to Kelsey and Amanda and all of them. They're such <i>bitches</i>," she says making sure to really emphasize that last word.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, they're, like, total rivals," Lotte says with amusement.<br/>
<br/>
"They're not... ugh!" Abby moans. "My dad owns a few businesses around town that's all."<br/>
<br/>
"That's underselling it," Gwen says which causes both you and Deanna to perk up. "He owns Northgate Plaza. You know, that small shopping center near the mall?"<br/>
<br/>
That certainly surprises you because Abby, well, doesn't look like she comes from a family of means. She dresses, like the rest of her friends, very plain. She's not an unattractive girl, to be honest. You almost want to say that she takes up a lot of space being tall and curvy, but she seems to have no real fashion sense. And when you look at Deanna you can practically see it written on her face: with some good advice she could go far.<br/>
<br/>
Abby drops another surprise for you when everyone decides to take a break, some going to the bathroom and some going outside to check their phones, leaving just the two of you. She confesses that she noticed you right away because you're always hanging out with Caleb. "I had a class with him last year and, uh, you know I guess I thought he was kind of funny and, uh, cute?" she says nervously.<br/>
<br/>
So far, Karen seems like she may be a bust. She's barely said a word since you've been here and just seems way too shy for you to be able to get alone. If you wanted to, you could maybe get Abby alone by wanting to talk to her about Caleb. Or you could set up a study session with Gwen. And Lotte needs a ride home since the three of them came her in Abby's car and, well, you seem to be connecting pretty well with her.<br/>
<br/>
You can always hold out for Karen but truth be told, you're not necessarily committed either and it feels like you'd have an easier time grabbing one of her friends.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135212454
author_id: rugal
id: AVM6NXXQR
title: Flabby Abby
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"Caleb? Really!?" you ask with surprise. Abby turns red and looks nervous at that and you realize you came off as way too harsh, so you decide to walk it back a little. "I mean I'm just surprised, that's all. He's, you know, my best friend so I guess I kind of take things for granted?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like I'm in <i>love</i> with him or something," states Abby. "And I get that there are better looking guys or anything but come on, I have to be realistic! It's not like, I don't know, Marc Garner is going to see me and fall hopelessly in love."<br/>
<br/>
"Makes it sound like you're settling," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"No no, nothing like that!" she says with a shake of her head. "But, and I'm not trying to be mean or anything, but do you think that you'd have a chance with Chelsea Cooper or Kendra Saunders?" You admit that you probably wouldn't. "Okay, so what about Lotte?"<br/>
<br/>
"What <i>about</i> her?" you ask, not sure you like the direction she's probably going.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I mean, you guys have been flirting all evening!"<br/>
<br/>
"We're not flirting!" you groan.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh please," she rolls her eyes. "But okay, sure, you're not <i>flirting</i> but you seem to be getting along with her, right? So what if she asked you to go out?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think she's going to— we just met!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just trying to prove a point," Abby shoots back. "Kendra might not be realistic for you but Lotte is and if, <i>if</i> you dated her do you think you'd be settling?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, no? Not really?" you answer with trepidation. You feel like she's putting you on the spot and engaging in more than just a simple hypothetical. But you're not about to call her out on that either. "If we got along or I liked her personality or something, then no."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I mean. I'm being realistic about my options. I had a class with Caleb last year and we got along in it and I thought he was funny, like I said," she states. "So, like, if I wanted to ask him out then I wouldn't be settling. Settling would be, I don't know, dating that creep Josiah Shanks because I don't feel like I have other options. You get it?"<br/>
<br/>
You suppose you do although you think that she's trying to convince herself more than she's trying to convince you. But all of her talk does convince you of something: Abby is who you're going to switch with. You've only just met her but she seems comfortable enough to be open with you like this already so if you offered to talk to her some more about Caleb, you feel like she'd be receptive to the idea. So you decide to broach the subject with her.<br/>
<br/>
"I get it," you affirm with a nod of your head. "And, uh, like I said Caleb is my best friend so if you want then we can meet up somewhere after this to talk about it. You know, I can tell you a little bit about him and all that."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. You know the Acheson Community Center?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course," she answers, "I live out by Schuyler so close enough to it."<br/>
<br/>
"Great, so do I! Close to the community center, I mean. So we can meet out there... if you're fine with it, of course."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so," she says. "I don't really have a problem with that."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You look at Abby as she sits in the driver's seat of her car, mouth slightly agape and breathing softly as unblinking eyes stare ahead at nothing. The study session ended not too long after everyone came back. You'd pulled Deanna aside as you were leaving to tell her that Karen seemed like a no go and you'd switched targets. She'd wanted to know who but you told her not to mind it and that you'd get in touch with her after you'd made the switch.<br/>
<br/>
Abby had to drop off her friends first so you'd left the library and headed over to the community center where you'd waited in the parking lot. When you saw what looked like her car pull in, you'd hopped out of your truck and waved her over. She'd barely gotten the car off and door open when you'd hit her with the blank mask. You're thankful that the lighting in the parking lot isn't the best as the darkness provides a bit of cover while you wait for the mask to do its thing and though the parking lot is largely empty you're still fidgety.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, though, the mask seems to finish and you quickly scoop it up. Just as quickly, you put the mask of yourself that you'd made onto Abby and in an instant where Abby once sat is now a very familiar boy dressed in her clothes.<br/>
<br/>
"Kinky," your duplicate says as he looks himself over.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, grab her keys, and just follow me over to the basement," you respond. "I can't really be getting nude out here."<br/>
<br/>
Your duplicate, as is to be expected, does what he's told. You head down into the basement and flip a light on before ordering him to strip as you yourself do the same. You shove your clothes at him and tell him to get dressed and once he's finished with that you send him home. You're then left all alone in the basement, naked and with a mask that reads <i>ABIGAIL DENISE MCDONALD</i> on the back. Taking a breath, you sit down and pull it towards your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You groan as you come to. The basement is cool and dank. The overhead light that buzzes bathes the room with its dulling—you should probably replace the bulb soon—light. You sit for a moment and take deep breaths as you reorient yourself and then, with a grunt, push yourself up into a standing position and immediately notice how off you feel; how different. Oh on the inside you still know that you're Will Prescott but physically...<br/>
<br/>
As far as height, not much has changed as Will Prescott and Abby McDonald are reasonably close in height. But where Will is a reedy, scrawny, scarecrow of a young man, Abby is a very full-figured young woman.<br/>
<br/>
To be sure her arms could be a little smaller and maybe her stomach has some paunch but you use your hands to poke and grasp and raise breasts that are large and well developed. And you use those hands to feel for an ass that, you noticed at the library, strained the dark pants Abby was wearing. Thighs that are large and soft. And...<br/>
<br/>
You sit back down as fingers work their way through a bush that could use a little more care until you find what you're looking for and allow your new fingers and new memories to take charge the way the real girl has done so many times before until you reach a climax.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, for sure Abby McDonald is not the most attractive girl you've see seen but she's not hopeless and the excitement of being in a girl's body, of controlling it, of being able to touch and caress it, makes it exciting no matter how you look. Even if it was Gwen you copied or—a name and image flash in your mind—Sophia Dewberry you'd probably still feel the excitement and temptation. But Abby, to be frank, isn't all that different put together than someone like Victoria Rodriguez. Certainly her face isn't pretty as Victoria's but it's not her <i>face</i> that got her insulted and demeaned.<br/>
<br/>
No, that started after her family moved to Saratoga Falls between eighth and ninth grades. Unfortunately, that's also when a growth spurt hit Abby and she also began to eat more. She was tall, chubby, and awkward which made her an easy target for the assholes and bitches. Flabby Abby was the most common nickname lobbed her way and though she was lucky to find some really good friends, it didn't stop her from feeling resentful or envious of the other, higher tier girls.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What does Victoria Rodriguez have that I don't?"</i> she'd wonder as Victoria was one of the girls who really liked that name even though, again, there wasn't much difference.<br/>
<br/>
But from an outsider's perspective the difference is clear as day. Victoria knows how to present herself much better. She wears clothing that flatters and accentuates her shape and feature and in general is much more fashionable than... you look over at the tight black pants, white shirt, and pink hoodie. You grab a clump of barely styled and flat chestnut hair, much less appealing than Victoria's well-maintained locks. And she's very good with makeup, something that Abby uses but not well.<br/>
<br/>
And she has a boyfriend. A handsome one. You're going to be Abby and though you <i>want</i> to run things from the shadow, you can't help but want to improve her image as well. And in addition to fashion, that means finding her a boyfriend. And, weird as it is to think, Caleb would probably be a good start. But would Caleb Johansson really <i>improve</i> Abby McDonald's reputation? He's not exactly a prize.<br/>
<br/>
But, an idea begins to swirl, he could be. If you approached him and talked to him and—maybe telling him who you actually are or simply presenting yourself as Abby—enter into a partnership with him. Find him a nicer looking, higher tier, and most importantly single guy to switch with and let him be Abby's boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
But there's also a part of it that leaves you cold. Could you really just date your best friend like that, even if you sunk yourself deep into Abby's persona? Maybe you'd be better off just putting all thoughts of romance and boyfriends aside and simply work on improving your image. You have Chelsea and Deanna under your control and if you added someone like Victoria or another fashionable, desirable girl to your "committee," then the sky could be the limit.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111352124541
author_id: rugal
id: EKK6GP7LB
title: Building a Better You
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You quickly get dressed in the clothes that Abby had been wearing and grab the car keys off of the table. When you get to her car you're relieve to see that her purse and her phone are still there in the passenger seat and so grab the phone as you sit down. You intend to contact Deanna and tell her where you are but as you scroll through Abby's contacts you realize that she doesn't actually have Deanna's number.<br/>
<br/>
No, why would she? She and Deanna aren't friends and, in fact, there's a memory of Deanna having been kind of a snooty with her back when they were partnered for something or other in eleventh grade. You suppose it's a testament to how these magic robot duplicates work that Deanna was able to go along with what you'd wanted with people that the real girl sees as beneath her. <i>It was really weird when Lotte said that Deanna wanted to have a study group,</i> comes a thought of Abby's, and while she's not Deanna's biggest fan she wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to get in good with her either.<br/>
<br/>
But she's not in good with her yet, and so you have to shoot a text to your own duplicate telling him to send you Deanna's number, as well as Chelsea's for good measure. You then create a group text with the both of them and send off a message.<br/>
<br/>
<i>made switch w/ abby mcdonald</i>, you tell them.<br/>
<br/>
Deanna is the first to respond. <i>wait I thought u wanted karen? abby!?!?<br/>
<br/>
I took the chance presented.<br/>
<br/>
whos this????</i> comes Chelsea's text.<br/>
<br/>
<i>will. ur boss.<br/>
<br/>
oooooo, k!<br/>
<br/>
u two free now? I wanna talk about next steps.<br/>
<br/>
isnt it late?</i> asks Deanna. It's only around eight and you tell her as much. <i>well I guess I'm free.<br/>
<br/>
me 2, gordon is no fun right now!</i> Chelsea chimes in.<br/>
<br/>
<i>ok then I want u 2 to come to atcheson comm center asap</i><br/>
<br/>
As much as you'd rather just convince and coerce, you feel that being direct and ordering them is more prudent and so they, as expected, give you compliant responses. You pull from Abby's mind that she doesn't really have a strict curfew, only being expected to be home at a "reasonable time," and so you head back into the basement to work on another mask and band while you wait. As you work, you allow yourself to sink a bit into Abby's mind so you can get a better handle on her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Freakin' Chelsea Cooper and Deanna Showalter are listening to me!</i> you think. You can't help but to be thrilled about it because Deanna is just <i>so</i> snooty while Chelsea is... well, she's Chelsea. They're arrogant bitches who have undoubtedly looked down on you the way the rest of their cohort—the Kelseys and such of the world—have. But it's also thrilling because, even if it's forced, you have their approval.<br/>
<br/>
Yeah, you weren't always at the bottom. Oh you weren't at the top either but back in upstate New York, in elementary and junior high, you did well for yourself. But the growth spurt happened and the move happened and you felt bad so you'd turned to comfort foods and Westside... god, it was just a totally different environment. A lot of bad eggs. So you'd gone in even harder and before you knew it you'd gained weight and lost the motivation to get rid of it. You were never the skinniest but... ugh!<br/>
<br/>
And you like your friends well enough; sure some times you'll argue but they're all nice girls. But they all seem so <i>content</i> and <i>accepting</i> of what they have and where they are which frustrates you because you, however, want more.<br/>
<br/>
So just as much as you can't stand all those cunts for being, well, cunts, you envy them and want what they have and want their approval. You've thought about it some times: what if you were Victoria Rodriguez and had her sexy body and hunky boyfriend? If you were Amanda Ferguson, could you pull off that aloof ice queen personality that makes her so infuriating and yet so desired? If they were <i>you</i>, could they succeed where you've failed? Is it all attitude? Well <i>you</i>, that is the you that's Will Prescott, are going to put that to the test. You wanted to rule from the shadows but just how far, with the right attitude and right help, can you take Abby McDonald?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So, do we call you Will or Abby?" Deanna asks once she and Chelsea while you continue to work on things. More puckishly, she adds, "Or do we call you boss?"<br/>
<br/>
That feels like a shot at you having ordered them to come but you let it pass. "Abby," you say after a moment's thought. "You guys recognize me when I'm someone else, right? So just call me by the mask I'm wearing."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing, Flabby Abby!" exclaims Chelsea in a taunting sing-song.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea," you snap, "don't sass me unless <i>you</i> want to be the one wearing Abby's mask."<br/>
<br/>
She looks taken aback and responds sheepishly. "I just don't get why you'd want to be <i>her</i>."<br/>
<br/>
"Potential," you state. "You know she's not even from Saratoga Falls originally, right? Her family only moved here because a great-uncle wanted her dad to take over his failing business and her dad's, like, a CPA so he could move."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the business?" asks Deanna.<br/>
<br/>
"The Monte," you answer to the surprise of both girls.<br/>
<br/>
"I remember it being a dump a few years ago, actually," Deanna says.<br/>
<br/>
"Abby's dad did a good job of turning it around," you tell them. "Enough that he bought into Northgate Plaza earlier this year too."<br/>
<br/>
"She was rich the whole time!?" asks Chelsea incredulously.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, no, not exactly. I think the Monte really only started making money in the last year or so when all the teens started using it. We, uh, <i>they</i> do well for themselves but they're not, like, Kelsey rich or anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay so she's got some money or whatever," Chelsea says with a roll of her eyes, "but still... Flabby Abby."<br/>
<br/>
She lets it hang there and neither she nor Deanna says anything so you break the silence. "Out with it," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"You just look so frumpy! I mean, God, does she even put <i>any</i> effort into looking good?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's that supposed to mean?" you wheel around on her angrily. "Because I'm bigger? Because I'm full-figured? Victoria Rodriguez and Cristina Ramon and... and Lin don't get the same shit!"<br/>
<br/>
"Will, uh, Abby," Deanna starts.<br/>
<br/>
You go wide-eyed at that and pull back. "Sorry," you say to them, "but the Flabby Abby thing is just... it's a real sore spot so don't fucking use it."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, okay, jeez," Chelsea exhales. "But those girls, they actually <i>try</i>... even <i>Lin</i>."<br/>
<br/>
You can hear the venom that's put on Lin's name when she says it. But what she says is true, Abby knows it as much as anyone, and it does give you an idea. "Well why don't we recruit one of them?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Recruit?" asks Deanna.<br/>
<br/>
"Conscript," you follow up. "We can take this mask that I'm making here and use it on someone who'd be able to be... my image consultant. You know, help me pick out some clothes and a hairstyle that'd look better on me. Help me with my makeup. That sort of thing." You turn to Chelsea with a smirk. "Help me get Lin tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Eww, her? Why?" asks Chelsea incredulously.<br/>
<br/>
"Because you can get her easily," you answer bluntly. "You've got access to the loft and me and her have study hall fourth. You've got lunch fourth, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"So call her up to the loft during fourth period and we'll grab her there," you tell her. "Besides, flipping someone from the other side of the squad would be useful for you as well, wouldn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a crisp Friday morning as you head into school, ready for the first full day as Abby McDonald. You're dressed little differently than how Abby was yesterday. That's not to say that she wears the same clothes every day but hoodies and long pants are more or less her default. But that won't be the case for long, because by the middle of the day you should have Lin Pol under your control and after school you'll be employing her services to help with your look.<br/>
<br/>
Abby's father isn't tightfisted, but he tries to be responsible with his money and so doesn't engage in a lot of extravagant spending. But it can be easy for those close to appeal to him and when it comes to his daughter he's more than willing to loosen the purse strings if she wants it.<br/>
<br/>
You were thinking about changing things up, you'd told him during breakfast. You wanted to get some nicer clothes and start taking a little more pride in your appearance. He'd liked that; he'd wanted to see his daughter regain some of the confidence she used to have and so you're now armed with his credit card. That's not to say that <i>you're</i> going to be reckless either but money won't be an issue.<br/>
<br/>
You greet Lotte and Sophia Dewberry, another and the dumpiest of Abby's friends, at the lockers that are near one another and ask what they're doing tonight but they insist that they've got no plans right now. When they ask you, you say that you've got some stuff to do right after school but after that it's up in the air.<br/>
<br/>
From there you head to Walberg's classroom and it's a bit disorienting at first to view it from a new perspective. You almost walk over to your normal seat when you see your duplicate chatting with Caleb the way you normally do. You take Abby's seat and while Walberg drones on you wonder what you should do.<br/>
<br/>
The same thoughts from yesterday evening are in your head. Do you talk to Caleb and if you do, then what? Ask him to meet privately so you can broach the subject of a partnership? Or maybe ask about joining him and Will at lunch where the public atmosphere might make it easier to pressure him into getting together after school?<br/>
<br/>
But then you'd have to cram that in with your shopping and makeover outing and that might be a little too much.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113521245412
author_id: rugal
id: QG3BSX99S
title: Lunch Dates
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Class goes on and you remain more interested in trying to think of what you'll do next—and beyond that as well—than in whatever Walberg has to say. You're relieved when the bell finally rings and Walberg dismisses the class. You briefly wonder about what to do before deciding to just go over and talk to Will and Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Will," you call out as you come up to them. They both almost double take as you turn your attention towards your duplicate. "Thanks for yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure," he says as he glances side-eyed at Caleb, "no problem."<br/>
<br/>
"Yesterday?" asks Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, there was a little study group at the library yesterday and Will was there." You smile at him. "He helped me out with a lot of stuff so I was kind of wondering if we could join you at lunch today. You guys have it fifth, right? I'm pretty sure I've seen you before."<br/>
<br/>
"Um, well, yeah," says Will.<br/>
<br/>
"We?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Me, and Gwen... oh and Sophia. You didn't meet her yesterday, Will," you state. "Everyone else has fourth period lunch so it's usually just the three of us by ourselves. So is it alright?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, well..."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean if some girls are offering," Caleb adds. He then grins at his friend. "I didn't know you were such a ladykiller."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," mutters Will.<br/>
<br/>
"Great! So we'll see you then!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh come off it, Will," you hear Caleb say as the two walk off. "A girl's a girl, right? I mean they're not Chelsea but—"<br/>
<br/>
It's not really much of a conversation because that'll be saved for lunch. Right now, it's just enough to get you onto their radar. With that, you trudge to your next class. While Abby is generally disinterested in the academic portion of school—she's a solid B student despite not trying as hard as she should—the first half of her schedule is pure drudgery for her. Not only does she have Walberg right off the bat, something which would kill anyone's enthusiasm for the rest of the day, but it's followed by math (a subject she's all but given up on) and science (something she has zero interest in).<br/>
<br/>
So there's not really much for you to do beyond zone out and let Abby's mind do most of the work, thinking about the other girls in your classes (unsurprisingly, she's ambivalent to most of them) or the guys (much more interested) as well. It's a slog until fourth period when you text Chelsea to tell her that you're going to meet her at the loft. She tries giving you some pushback but you shut it down by telling her that you need to be there to treat Lin's mask anyway<br/>
<br/>
But as you get there, you replay what you overheard Caleb say to your duplicate as they were leaving Walberg's class. "God, it's hopeless!" you moan as Chelsea lets you into the space known as the "fuck room" to most of the student body.<br/>
<br/>
"What the hell!? What's <i>your</i> problem!?" she squeals. "If people realized that I'm letting Fla—uh, you up here then they're going to start talking!"<br/>
<br/>
You glare at her. "Even fucking Caleb Johansson isn't going to have any interest in me!" you cry. "He was comparing me negatively to Cindy and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well duh, what do you think I told you yesterday? And why do you give a shit what, uh, that guy thinks?" She thinks for a moment. "Caleb... oh shit, that little dweeb!? Gordon practically steps on him by accident!"<br/>
<br/>
You glare even harder at Chelsea. "Zip it or I swear I'll make it so that <i>you</i> have the hots for Abby," you threaten her.<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes go wide. "Can you even do that?" she asks warily.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want to find out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh, no," she pouts. "But I <i>told</i> you that it's going to take some work. You can't just wave a wand and bibbidi bobbidi boo, you go from being the pumpkin to being Cinderella."<br/>
<br/>
"You're a real bitch, you know that?" you growl. "But I think I'm getting a little too caught up in Abby's emotions too." You dig through your bag and hand the blank mask to Chelsea. "Lin should be here any minute so I'm going to need you to put this on her when she does, it shouldn't be hard."<br/>
<br/>
"Why? What are you going to do?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You lay down on the mats. "Change my outfit," you say as you bring your hands up to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Almond eyes situated under large but well maintained eyebrows and a wide but pretty face blink back at you from your phone's camera. Hair that's long, voluminous, and dark falls down to large breasts attached to a torso that sits on large hips that run into thighs that are equally large and soft. You like showing them off—and the boys certainly like you showing them off—which is why you're wearing short shorts despite the fact that mildly cool air is nipping at them.<br/>
<br/>
Everything is good and everything's in place so you stride across the quad. "Hey guys," you say in Lin Pol's voice as you take a seat next to Yumi Saito, "do I look fine?"<br/>
<br/>
"Psh, when don't you?" asks Keith Tilley. You give him the stink eye for that.<br/>
<br/>
"You look fine, Lin, what's up?" asks Yumi.<br/>
<br/>
"Well I get called into a private meeting with the queen last period," you roll your eyes, "and she spent most of it chewing me out. I don't even know what I did! I haven't been messing anything up!"<br/>
<br/>
"She's probably just trying to keep you on your toes," says Jenny Ashton. "You know how psychos are."<br/>
<br/>
"Ooooh, cheerleading gossip? Let us in on that!" comes the voice of Abby as she, Gwen, and Sophia come to sit down.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh jeez, I didn't know that, um, <i>you</i> guys were gonna be here!" Sophia nervously exclaims. "I didn't even know that you guys hung out over here. I thought you'd be sitting with, uh, well, not here."<br/>
<br/>
"We're like group therapy for the alpha pack," Caleb states sardonically.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we should charge for the privilege," Carson Ioeger grins. "Say Lin, what's the going rate for having to hear all about your guys' tumbles and tears?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shit, man, hangin' out after school would be good 'nuff for me," Keith chimes in which earns him a punch in the arm from Jenny. "The fuck's that for, Ashton!?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, involuntary reaction. It happens every time I hear something really fucking stupid," Jenny answers.<br/>
<br/>
"Speaking of hanging out after school," you say as you turn to Abby, "I heard you guys and Will did?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Oh, uh, yeah," Abby says.<br/>
<br/>
"It was a study thing at the library," Gwen chimes in. "I helped Will out a lot with math stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah and he helped me out a lot with... other stuff," adds Abby.<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft! I wouldn't take this guy's advice on how to toast bread, much less schoolwork," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"Jealous, Caleb?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What would I be jealous about?" he retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"When was the last time <i>you</i> got with any girls for a study date?" you shoot back. Lin is, for a cheerleader, nice enough in that she doesn't ever insult you. But she has a sharp tongue and you're employing it with the express purpose of needling Caleb and working him up. "You know, if you think you're not good enough..."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure he's fine," Abby jumps in. "I mean I wouldn't mind him tutoring me or anything."<br/>
<br/>
Eyebrows go up at that. <i>This is subtle for her? I told her to be subtle,</i> you think but you go with it. "So are you guys doing anything tonight?" you ask the three girls which gets negative reactions. <i>Big shocker,</i> comes a snarky Lin thought that you ignore. "Well why don't you all get together for another study session?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lin, what are you—" Yumi starts but you ignore her.<br/>
<br/>
"You're in, right Will?" you ask. The command is implicit in the question so all he can do is give an affirmative. "What about you, Caleb?" you then ask turning to him.<br/>
<br/>
"What <i>about</i> me?" he asks dryly.<br/>
<br/>
You groan and lean over close to him. "Stop being a smart-ass, Caleb," you growl quietly before returning normal. "You're going to that study session too, right?" you ask forcefully. Caleb's quiet for a second but you hold his sight and he wilts.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, great!" Abby declares nervously. "I'll, uh, let you know when and where."<br/>
<br/>
Lunch, then continues normally from that point. You're proud of your work, clumsy as it may have been. Abby can be forceful but also nervous and you don't think you could have convinced Caleb to get together if you were her. Lin would have the willpower to push things together but you didn't want to leave it to a duplicate and so figured it was best to step in and do the work yourself.<br/>
<br/>
But being Lin feels nice and feels sexy and you want to get as much out of the experience as possible so you plan on sticking it out under her mask while you're with Abby after school and then switch back when Abby and Lin separate. Besides, this makeover deal might work better if you're viewing things from the consultant, rather than the consultee, position.<br/>
<br/>
You make a point of observing everything as lunch goes on as well. You notice, for instance, the way Gwen seems to lean in close to Will quite a bit. Not cartoonishly but just enough for you to pick up on and combined with the offer for one-on-one tutoring... <i>Oh, she definitely likes him</i>, comes a thought, <i>but she's too unconfidant to say anything so she's doing these vague, poor hints</i>.<br/>
<br/>
And Sophia, you can tell, has all the qualities of a follower. She's more outgoing than Gwen but it's a sort of tryhard outgoing... kind of like Keith, you muse, though not as ridiculous. But she seems to go along with everyone else and is especially quick to agree with what you or Yumi or even Jenny say. Dumpy, insecure, and very pliable; that's how Sophia Dewberry comes off to you as viewed through Lin's eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Which makes you wonder about something once you go back to Abby's mask. Trying to run this by yourself is going to be hard. Maybe having some partners would ease the burden.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135212454124
author_id: rugal
id: XBZG3NC78
title: Character Creator
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>While it's tempting to partner up with people you can share the burden with, you ultimately decide that any thoughts of doing so are premature. Maybe down the road you can think of it but the more you think, the more you feel that right now it's better to focus on establishing yourself first. So you table the idea for the moment to focus on getting through the rest of Lin's classes. Lin, to your surprise, takes a number of AP classes and does reasonably well in all of them and while it's not the slog that the first half of the day was (maybe because Lin lacks Abby's ambivalence towards her classes), you're still a bit impatient.<br/>
<br/>
You field messages every so often, such as a few from Cindy and the Garners saying they heard about what happened and offering their sympathy, but for the most part there's not really anything notable that happens until sixth period. It's an English class that Lin shares with Chelsea and Deanna. Deanna practically double takes when she sees you which you find odd but mostly ignore.<br/>
<br/>
"As far as everyone knows, you reamed me out today," you whisper to Chelsea before heading off to your seat.<br/>
<br/>
You then go on autopilot for the rest of class until the bell rings and Deanna catches up to you as you leave.<br/>
<br/>
"That you Boss, er, Will, er... whatever the hell I'm supposed to call you?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
That catches you by surprise because when you'd changed into Abby you'd told Deanna and Chelsea about it. But while Chelsea had been there when you changed into Lin, Deanna hadn't. "Yeah it's me," you assure her. "Did Chelsea tell you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? No," she says with all the tone of answering a dumb question.<br/>
<br/>
"Then how did you—"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," she interrupts and now she sounds a little confused, "I just kind of did? Like when I saw you it was just... a kind of feeling. I don't really know how to describe it but I knew that Lin was really you. So what, are you already sick of Abby?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing like that," you answer, "and I'm switching back in a little bit. I just decided that I wanted Lin to help me with Abby's image and thought it'd be better to do what I need to do from the outside. She can tell me stuff but I figure that I'd understand it better if I was inside her head."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," she replies, "but it might be just as good to run things as her and then be the power behind Abby's rise. You know, I thought that's what you <i>wanted</i> to do."<br/>
<br/>
"That is but... look, I'm just feeling things out and improvising, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh, well at least keep me on top of these things first," she says before she slinks off towards wherever her next class is.<br/>
<br/>
You want to fume a little bit at her giving you push back like that but you suppose that's what you'd been aiming for—an advisor, not a suck up—so you let it pass.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's not much going on in Lin's last two classes and by this point you're anxious to get out and get everything over with which is why you almost want to groan when, in the parking lot on the way out to the car, you're accosted by Chelsea as you fire a text off to Abby telling her to meet you up at the Northgate Mall.<br/>
<br/>
"So, like, I'm really confused," she whines. "Why are you doing this again?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you why," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah and that's what I don't <i>get</i>!" she exclaims. "Why are you going to go back to being <i>her</i> when... look, I don't like Lin but, you know, she's way better! You can just run everything as her, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You stop and turn to her. "Why do you care so much?" you ask in a mix of disbelief and irritation.<br/>
<br/>
"Because... I don't know, I just don't like the idea of taking orders from Flabby Abby," she says. "Like I know it's really you but it's just... I'm still me, or at least I think I'm still me. I'm still Chelsea Cooper with all of her thoughts and feelings and everything and Chelsea Cooper doesn't like the idea of taking orders from her." She pauses for a moment, like she's finished, but then adds something else. "No, it's not just that she doesn't like it. The whole idea if it is <i>disgusting</i> to her and so it's disgusting to <i>me</i>!"<br/>
<br/>
That surprises you a lot. You know that they're magical robots or something like that but even still you guess you hadn't considered just how much of the original person they'd still be. But you can't have her fighting you every step of the way or only begrudgingly going along with everything either. You've tried to avoid it but you have no real choice but to be forceful.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Chelsea, I understand but all of that? Forget about it," you say. "Whether I'm Abby or Lin or anyone else, I don't want you to have an issue with doing what I say. So you don't have an issue with me being Abby or being Lin. In fact, you're going to like the idea of helping Abby because you're playing a role in it."<br/>
<br/>
"Me?" she asks. "How?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm still working on it but it's going to involve you and Lin and the squad, I think," you tell her. What you don't tell her is that by "working on it" you mean "making it up as you go."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you respond, "so I'm going to need you to be on board with this and also—and I'll give her the talk after switching back—I'm going to need you and Lin to be friendly. Not publicly, you guys can behave like normal, but behind the scenes and under the radar. Got it?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea stares at you for a second but then breaks into a smirk. "Yeah, okay, sure!" she replies. "Crystal clear, boss!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At the mall, you walk around from store to store with Abby. You size her up and at various stores—Feldman's and Chesterbrook and Anborg—you have her try things on and have her buy what looks best on her. She's exhausted by the time you head into Eve, a makeup shop, but you tell her to press on.<br/>
<br/>
"We're making progress but we're still in the preparation stage," you say as you pull out your phone. You open up Instagram to a specific profile of a girl and show the phone to Abby. "Know who this is?" you ask which earns a shake of the head. "Amy Rhodes, she goes to Eastman. Look at those pics and tell me, what would you say about her? Like what words would you use to describe her."<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty, I guess," Abby mutters. "Fashionable."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, and you and her are pretty much the same size," you tell her. "But Amy knows how to look good. She dresses in nice ensembles, she's good with her makeup, she knows how to style her hair. I'm not going to turn you into Amy or anything but I want to show you that you're totally not hopeless."<br/>
<br/>
"I know I'm not," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You smile. After that deal with Chelsea, you wonder if you can change Abby up a little too. Clothes and makeup are only one piece of the puzzle, after all. Attitude is another and you know from being her this morning that Abby is a bundle of insecurities and so long as she is, all of the clothing in the world will only marginally help.<br/>
<br/>
"Right, you're not. So I want you to think that you're pretty like that, too. That you're confident like that," you state. "It's all mindset and willpower. You can't just want to be a beautiful swan, you have to know that you're a beautiful swan. You have to believe it. I want you to believe it."<br/>
<br/>
She takes a deep breath and you notice a change come over her. "Yeah, okay, I'm Abby McDonald and I'm a beautiful swan," she says. You tell her to repeat it with more confidence and more belief and are glad when she does so.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right, that's exactly it!" you tell her hapilly. "The Abby McDonald you were this morning? That old nervous Nellie? You're not her anymore. You're attractive, you're sexy, because you're confident. You know it, you believe it, and you project it. The clothes and makeup? That'll bring out the you that you always should have been."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Holy crap!" exclaims Lotte as she, Gwen, and Sophia enter your room. "You look... uh..."<br/>
<br/>
"Hot!" Sophia chimes in. "You look really hot, Abby!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, what happened?" asks Gwen.<br/>
<br/>
And indeed you do. You're dressed in a simple dark wrap dress that's tight enough to emphasize the parts you want emphasized but loose enough to not look ridiculous complimented by some heeled sandals. With the help that Lin gave you in doing your makeup and styling your hair, working to make it look wavier and more voluminous, Abby looks like a whole new person.<br/>
<br/>
And she feels like a whole new person as well thanks to that talk you'd had with her when you were still in Lin's mask. The nervousness and doubt, if not gone has been blunted by confidence and self-assurance.<br/>
<br/>
"I decided after how awkward lunch was that I wanted to really change things up and got some help from... someone," you say. "But she helped pick this and some other stuff out and really gave me a confidence boost. I owe her a lot. I want to be a whole new Abby."<br/>
<br/>
"Well that's awesome," Lotte smiles. "And we've got boys coming over, right? I'm sure they'll loooove what you've done."<br/>
<br/>
Yeah, boys. Will and Caleb and... ugh, they managed to finagle Keith into coming as well. You're not looking forward to the possibility of him being all over you but you did set everything up and said you'd hold it at your place. And yet it seems like a waste now. All this effort to stay cooped up in the house to try and impress Caleb? Part of you wonders if you shouldn't aim higher. Go out, maybe with Abby's friends, and see if you can have some fun. It's Friday night and there's sure to be plenty to do if you go looking.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111352125
author_id: seuzz
id: A6VBTJ6ZR
title: Rebecca Leary
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2300721-BoM-Poll-Junior-Jubilee" target="_top" title="Where will the story go next?">BoM Poll: Junior Jubilee</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2300721-BoM-Poll-Junior-Jubilee" target="_blank" title="Where will the story go next?"><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/>
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path: 1131221113521255
author_id: seuzz
id: C3QGW73B5
title: The Piccolo Player
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span><i>Can u get annbelle edwards alone someplace?</i> you ask Deanna. <i>Think she mite be best.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's some time before Deanna replies. <i>Lol c what I can do.</i><br/>
<br/>
And then, a little while later, you realize that Chelsea would be even better at attracting and trapping Annabelle. <i>Of course,</i> you think as you tap in a text to your first doppelganger. <i>Dur. A girl like Annabelle is probably totally in awe of Chelsea. This'll be the easiest thing in the world!</i><br/>
<br/>
And yet, the next morning, when you text Chelsea to ask for an update, she tells you that she hasn't even heard back from Annabelle!<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm not surprised," Deanna tells you fifth period, which is your lunch and her study hall. You're meeting in the library stacks, muttering to each other over the tops of the books lining the bookcase that separates you. "I get the impression Annabelle's not the kind of girl to jump when someone snaps their fingers. Especially someone like Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
You actually like the sound of that: it makes you even hotter to start the impersonation. "Is it okay if I work with Chelsea?" she asks when you urge her to redouble her efforts to isolate Annabelle so you can replace her. "Maybe Annabelle won't come when Chelsea calls, but I could use all the help I can get in getting you—" She twinkles at the you through the bookcase, and you get the shivery feeling that she's forming a judgement about you and why you want to turn yourself into a girl.<br/>
<br/>
It's probably best that no one got to Annabelle right away, because when you go out to the school basement after classes, you realize that, in your excitement, you forgot that you still have to finish another one of those metal doodads before you'll have a mask that you can use on her. It takes the balance of the afternoon to complete one, and to glue it into the one polished mask you have on hand, but you tiredly congratulate yourself on not having screwed up by not being ready for Annabelle when the time came.<br/>
<br/>
And so you are ready, when after supper you get an excited phone call—not even a text, but a phone call as you're passing through the living room—from Deanna: "We're meeting Annabelle up at the city library!" she exclaims. "Chelsea and me! We told her—"<br/>
<br/>
"What time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Now! I mean, she's supposed to be on her way!"<br/>
<br/>
"You couldn't give me any more warning than that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It just came together all of a sudden! I got this brainwave for what to tell her, and when I—"<br/>
<br/>
"The city library, you said? Okay, I'll be out there fast as I can. Dad!" you yell out as you close the connection, and your father looks over from the TV. "I have to go meet some, um, guys up at the library tonight."<br/>
<br/>
He stares back. "Uh huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well ... I'm just telling you where I'll be."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. If it's the library, I assume you'll be doing schoolwork."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... Yeah!" You feel sweat popping out all over you. "Anyway, just letting you know. I'll be home by my curfew time, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you do that," he says. His expression hardens as he holds your eye, and you can see the suspicion forming in his mind that there's more going on here than you're letting on, but you dash for the stairs before he can do or say anything more.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It seems to take forever to get things together: a book bag so it will look like you're going off to study, and the mask and other things you need from the basement. You even forget to take a paintbrush with you, and you're almost to the city library when you remember and have to drive back to the school to get one. You are almost frantic by the time you get to your destination.<br/>
<br/>
The downtown district is all of a piece: immense brick piles built in a Midwestern-Roman motif that was popular a hundred and fifty years ago. The library is a brick box fronted by a triangular pediment of white marble and topped with a greenish-blue metal dome under which, schoolyard lore had it in when you were in elementary school, there was once housed a telescope. <br/>
<br/>
You text Deanna to ask where she and Annabelle are; while awaiting her reply, you go into the restroom to splash some cold water on your face so as to calm yourself down.<br/>
<br/>
Deanna returns your text with a phone call. ""Where <i>are</i> you?" she hisses. "Annabelle's been trying to leave for the last fifteen minutes, and Chelsea and I can't—!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm on the first floor, men's room. So where are <i>you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Third floor. I'll meet you at the head of the stairs."<br/>
<br/>
There's more confusion, of course, because there are two stairwells, and you and Deanna head for opposite ones. It's a few minutes before you get things sorted out, and finally connect up with her.<br/>
<br/>
You've never been to the third floor of the city library before, which accounts for at least part of the reason you got so confused. It's the floor (Deanna explains) where the administrators have their offices; where the audio-visual rooms and special collections are housed; and (more to the present point) where conference rooms are located.<br/>
<br/>
"My aunt works up here," she prattles as she leads you down a broad hallway, lined with office doors, that runs the length of the building, "so I kind of get the run of the place. The conference rooms are only supposed to be for staff use, but after hours, like now, if you know about them and if the staff knows you, you can come up and use them for studying or whatever."<br/>
<br/>
<i>For whatever?</i> you reflect to yourself. <i>And isolated up here, after everyone has gone home? That could be useful.</i><br/>
<br/>
You come to an intersection where the two broad corridors that bisect the library along each axis pour into a circular balcony that runs in a great ring under the dome. You peer over the polished, cherry-wood balustrade that runs around the edge of the balcony, to glimpse through an open space the floor below, where the periodical section is. You also glance up into the dome, and reflect how silly are the stories about it once being an observatory. There would hardly have been room for a floor to mount such a telescope on.<br/>
<br/>
Deanna hangs a left to lead you down one of the library's wings. "Good, she's still here," she says as she stops in front of a door, half of which is solid wood and the rest a thick pane of glass; most of the wall to one side of it is also glass. Through these windows—which don't afford the room inside as much privacy as you'd like—you see a carpeted room painted an off-white shade, and the long conference table it contains. You also see the two girls inside the room. "She's been making noises for the last half hour about her ride coming to pick her up," Deanna mutters.<br/>
<br/>
You're hardly listening, though. You've already pulled the mask out of your bag, and now you barge into the room and make straight for the girls. Chelsea's eyes pop with pleasure when she sees you, but the other girl—<br/>
<br/>
Well, she hardly has time to do more than shoot a puzzled glance in your direction before you are looming over her, pressing the mask into her face. It fades away under your palm and then you are mashing your hand against the bare face of Annabelle Edwards. The light fades from her eyes, and she slumps onto her side. "Wow, boss," Chelsea gasps. "I mean— Will! You don't fuck around, do you?." She grins.<br/>
<br/>
You ignore her, and twist around to get your first good look at the girl whose body and identity you are going to steal.<br/>
<br/>
She's not beautiful, but she's not bad looking either, with a plain, symmetrical face of no striking distinction. Her dark blonde hair is pulled back severely by a light-green plastic hair band. Her black tank top shows off toned shoulders and arms, still sun-touched by the summer. It also gives you a good idea of the size of her breasts: small. Ducking to peer under the table, you see she's wearing baggy jogging shorts and sneakers. A plain red back pack sags on the floor by her ankles.<br/>
<br/>
She's not someone you would have ever looked twice at, and that seems good, as it's just what you're looking for in an alias.<br/>
<br/>
As you are studying Annabelle, her phone, which is resting screen-side down on the table, dings with a text. After a moment's hesitation, Chelsea picks it up. "That's probably her ride," she says. "She's been going on and on about having to wrap our meeting up, because they were going to be here soon."<br/>
<br/>
"Who's she getting a ride with?" you ask, though not with any great interest. With her memory and personality, you will be able to fool anyone who came to fetch her.<br/>
<br/>
"Her boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
<i>That</i> gets your attention. "Boyfriend?" you exclaim, and wheel on Deanna. "You didn't mention she had a <i>boyfriend!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I didn't know!" Deanna says. She gapes at Chelsea. "How do you know she—?"<br/>
<br/>
"She said it after you went to meet the boss— To meet Will. She got a text and said, My boyfriend says he's on his way now, can we talk about this later?"<br/>
<br/>
You didn't figure on having to deal with a <i>boyfriend.</i> "Well, who is it?" you stammer. "And how serious are—?"<br/>
<br/>
Deanna takes the phone from Chelsea. Her eyes pop when she reads the screen. "Oh, Jesus! It's Luke Romero!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's he?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's in the marching band, and he says he's <i>downstairs now!</i> Oh God, I'm sorry, boss!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" you ask with a beating heart.<br/>
<br/>
"Because he's scummy!" she says with a shudder. "He deals shit at the <i>Warehouse!</i> Oh my God," she wails. "Him and Annabelle? Since when?"<br/>
<br/>
The mask is already copying Annabelle. But that doesn't mean you have to put it on tonight and get a ride home with her scuzzy, drug-peddling boyfriend.<span class="QbcRddgOKK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135212551
author_id: seuzz
id: JHT89MWHD
title: Prep for the plan
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2301512-BoM-Poll-Marching-to-a-New-Drummer" target="_top" title="Where does the story go next?">BoM Poll: Marching to a New Drummer</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2301512-BoM-Poll-Marching-to-a-New-Drummer" target="_blank" title="Where does the story go next?"><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/>
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path: 113122111352125511
author_id: seuzz
id: RYR9LQC6V
title: The Boyfriend
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>A strange, thrumming vibration runs through you, from your crown to your toes, as you stride along the hallways and bounce down the stairwell. It's like you're a bowstring, and desire is the bow scraping itself over you and causing your body to sing.<br/>
<br/>
It is singing for Luke Romero.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Holy shit,</i> you think with a kind of grim fear. <i>This girl has got it </i>bad<i> it for him.</i> You feel another cold thrill when you remember that the diagnosis isn't original to you. It's what Harmony had said a couple of weeks ago while watching Annabelle key a desperate text to Luke when she thought he'd gone off to the river without her. It feels like an almost chemical dependency.<br/>
<br/>
You burst out of the library into the deepening night and whip your head around, looking for Luke. You hear him before you spot him—or rather, you hear Deanna chattering away at him a dozen or so yards off. He's leaning against the side of his battered Honda Accord, looking down at her over his folded arms.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, sorry I'm late getting down here," you gasp as you run up. You have to gulp down your heart, which is trying to force its way up your throat. "Thanks, Deanna," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sure," she says, brightly. Then, more uncertainly: "Um, are we still getting together or something to, um, talk about—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll text you." Without quite realizing what you're doing, you reach out to tweak the white sweatshirt your boyfriend is rocking. "You ready to go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." He straightens up and drops an arm onto your shoulder, to draw you close. "Thanks for hanging out, Deanna."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you agree. "Thanks for— I think Chelsea's waiting for you," you interrupt yourself as Deanna gives every indication of standing and staring and grinning at you. Her face falls, then she recovers to wish you a cheery goodnight, and turns back toward the library. "Oh God," you mutter, and again you surprise yourself a little by falling against Luke's torso. He staggers a little beneath your weight.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Chelsea Cooper and Deanna Whatsername, that's all. They kept me there <i>forever.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry. I tried to get back as soon as I could."<br/>
<br/>
"And I still couldn't get away." You find the lie strangely easy to invent. "Even after you texted me you were here, Chelsea was all, like, 'One more thing, just one more thing'."<br/>
<br/>
"What did she want to talk about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna talk about it." You pull away from him. "I talked about it enough with her. Where we gonna go?"<br/>
<br/>
And that's when you more or less realize you have committed yourself to keeping Annabelle's date with Luke Romero.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He says he still has to go out to the Warehouse, which surprises you because the plan had been for him to go out there and take care of his business while Annabelle was meeting with Chelsea. "My mom texted right after I dropped you off," he explains as he opens the driver-side door for you. (You have to clamber in through the driver's side because the passenger-side door is busted; it's sealed up with duct tape, and garbage sacks are stretched over the busted-out window on that side.) "I had to pick up some stuff for her at the store. So I thought—" He waits to finish until you are both inside the car. "I thought I'd make things short for you by doing that first, then coming to pick you up. You mind?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help grinning at him in the dark. Luke Romero does not give off the vibe of a guy who'd be that thoughtful, and that he is that kind of guy is one of the things that drives Annabelle wild.<br/>
<br/>
Luke is a tall, skinny kid—even taller and skinnier than Will Prescott—with a mop of thick, dark hair that covers his ears and falls to the top of his eyebrows and the back of his neck. He sports a weedy, bristly mustache, and dresses down in grimy jeans and t-shirts and pullovers, and walks around with a faint stench of weed on him. All in all, he looks like what he more or less is: one of those kids who skip class to hang out behind the school, getting stoned. But not content with even that kind of loser-dom, he actively works at the drug-and-beer trade at the Warehouse—the dangerous party spot that he now says he has to stop off at.<br/>
<br/>
Yet under his rough, scummy, loser-y exterior, Annabelle has discovered a shy and reasonably thoughtful kid. She paid no attention to him their freshman or most of their sophomore years, even in the marching band to which they both belong. (Luke plays the snares.) It wasn't until the end of the last school year that she started to feel a little intrigued, then interested, then fascinated by him. There was something just so appealingly ... <i>dirty</i> ... about him. She wondered about it, but couldn't figure what it was exactly that kept drawing her eye to him. She finally gave up and admitted that she just must have a thing for "bad boys."<br/>
<br/>
And then she discovered, after they started hanging out, that he wasn't really "bad," except for being bad at school and having a bad home life and just generally being on the bad-tempered outs with life and the world. It made her feel grown up to kind of take him under her wing. And she also found—after he had introduced her to weed, and to necking, and to taking off most of one's clothes so one could be pinched and bit and scratched in very exciting ways—that he gave her a freedom and permission to relax her otherwise very disciplined mind and habits. They haven't slept together, but they have touched each other intimately: he touching her with his long, skinny, knuckley fingers, and she touching his long, skinny, piccolo-like dick. It left both of them giggly and flustered and gleefully conspiratorial.<br/>
<br/>
You tell him now you don't mind going back out to the Warehouse. But you put your foot down when he starts to light a roach while driving. "And not even when you get out there," you further tell him. "I can't afford to go home with the smell of it on me, and I didn't bring a change of clothes." He mewls, but you shut him up by playfully twisting his ear.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The Warehouse is exactly that—an abandoned warehouse in Saratoga Falls's decaying industrial district—that the city's high school kids took over decades ago and turned into a party spot. The soot-stained bricks absorb rather than reflect the stinging glow of the sodium-vapor lamps from the nearby street, and the immense building squats in the night like a rotting hulk.<br/>
<br/>
"There's a lot of people here," you observe as you get out, for the parking lot is surprisingly full for a Thursday night. In a way you are glad, for you don't like the look of the raggedy figures watching you and Luke from across the street. Probably they are only homeless people, as shy of you as you are of them. But even the homeless can be dangerous.<br/>
<br/>
"Setting up for tomorrow night," Luke explains. He throws a protective arm over your shoulders. "Well, cleaning up. That's what I gotta help with. At my station, at least." He hauls open one of the big metal doors that front the Warehouse, and pulls you inside.<br/>
<br/>
Even when peopled by a few dozen kids, the Warehouse feels empty. Past the entryway is the wide doorway leading into the warehouse proper, which houses the dance floor and the band stage. Looking through it, you see a half-dozen kids taking down amps and mike stands. One of them you recognize as Bastian Jankowski, the lead singer for Los Scorchicos, the most popular band in the junior and sophomore classes. They played last weekend, you remember, and must have left their equipment behind all week.<br/>
<br/>
But Luke pulls you into the saloon, which is furnished with the broken and castoff tables, chairs and booths of a dozen abandoned taverns; the bar itself—where more than beer is served up—is a long row of plywood planks set on sawhorses. Luke, his arm still around your shoulders, swaggers over to high-five Owen Hubble, another drummer in the marching band, and Luke's best friend. "Sorry I'm late," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"See you dragged the ball-and-chain along," Owen says. His lip curls as he looks at you, but there's an appreciative gleam in his eye. Owen is cut from the same cloth as Luke—a tall, lanky loser—but he's a lot bolder and nastier, and entirely lacks Luke's sweetness. He is openly lecherous toward you, even though you doubt he likes you any more than you like him.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Ryder?" Luke asks. He points to some crates behind the bar. "I'm s'posed to have—"<br/>
<br/>
"Up in the office, I guess," Owen says. His eyes still on you, he adds, "'Less he's in one of the rooms nailing one of his fillies."<br/>
<br/>
Luke glances at you. "I gotta go find Ryder," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Better leave her here," Owen says, still staring at you. "In case he's <i>not</i> nailing a filly but decides he wants to."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, man," Luke says. But his tone is mild. He looks at you, and pulls gently at you.<br/>
<br/>
So you accede, and follow him over to the makeshift stairway that leads to the upper floor where the "offices" are.<br/>
<br/>
And as you follow him, you realize, to your own surprise, that you're already thinking in terms of where to place some doppelgangers in the junior class. Bastian Jankowski, the cute and popular boy-band leader, would carry a lot of influence. Ryder Hillberger, a JV football player who is lining up to take over management of the Warehouse when he's a senior, could give you practical control of the Warehouse of a base. And of course there's the "popular girls" that Annabelle so despises—the Stacy Stahls and Cristine Mileses—who are the Chelseas of the junior and so are obvious candidates.<br/>
<br/>
But should you be thinking of the junior class when your plans were always for the senior class?<span class="QbcRddgOKK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113521255111
author_id: seuzz
id: VSYSWKB3S
title: Scarlett Bard
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2301771-BoM-Poll-The-Junior-Menu" target="_top" title="Where does the story go next?">BoM Poll: The Junior Menu</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2301771-BoM-Poll-The-Junior-Menu" target="_blank" title="Where does the story go next?"><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/>
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path: 11312211135212551111
author_id: seuzz
id: US37VXHM5
title: Needs and Desires
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Luke doesn't bring you to any kind of climax, he just leaves you panting and groaning and twitching while he hobbles off to spend himself into some bushes. It leaves you digging the heel of your hand into your eye and wondering—with Annabelle's regret and your own relief—why you don't just start going all the way with him. He at least gets to get it off when you get together. You're left with an unreachable itch.<br/>
<br/>
You know the answer, of course. Although Annabelle would trust Luke not to dump her after he's had his fun, she wouldn't trust him to be careful on his end as he should be, which would leave her needing to be as careful as she can on hers. And the last thing Annabelle wants to do is go on birth control, with or without her parents' knowledge.<br/>
<br/>
Although if <i>you</i> got her pregnant (accidentally!), then slipped into another identity, leaving one of those magical robots to take Annabelle's place—<br/>
<br/>
These thoughts are interrupted by Luke's return. He's still out of his shirt and his jeans are hanging off the tops of his hips, exposing the hemline of his briefs—loudly emblazoned with the HANES logo—to the world. "Mmm, hey," he murmurs as he leans over you. You reach up to clasp him about the neck. "Was it fun for you too?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Phfft!</i> Fun for <i>you!</i>" you grumble. "Me I'm still—" You twist your hips and kick your feet into the air. "Love me some more."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't, I'm all—"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't <i>need</i> to cum again, Luke!" you retort. "Just do what you were doing before, and—"<br/>
<br/>
You raise up to bite him in the mouth. A jolt runs through his frame, but he kisses you back, and while you've got him pulled down you squeeze in under him and wrap your powerful thighs around his hips. You rock and push and thrust at him, and eventually he reciprocates.<br/>
<br/>
And yet, somehow, it isn't nearly as exciting as before, when you knew you were bringing him to climax.<br/>
<br/>
"Ungh!" You break off and push him back. "God, I'm sweating like a pig! How can you stand me when I'm so disgusting?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not disgusting, you're sexy." He leers. "I like a girl who—"<br/>
<br/>
You sit up on the edge of the hood and wrap your legs back around him again. But instead of pulling him down, you pull his naked chest to your naked chest, and cradle your face in the crook of his neck. "Luke," you whine as he clasps you around the shoulders. "Do you love me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure I do, babe. I—"<br/>
<br/>
"So can't you try it again? With your tongue?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He doesn't. It's the one sore spot in the relationship. Luke gags when he gets his nose down anywhere close to Annabelle's cooch.<br/>
<br/>
You don't make a big deal of it, but you do close down the makeout session by telling him you have to get home. Luke acts like a whipped cur.<br/>
<br/>
You have no idea what you look or smell like—and you had to stop Luke again from lighting a joint on the way home—so you hustle through the living room to your bedroom when you get home, then into the bathroom after dropping your backpack off. You peel off your clothes and dump them in the hamper, then dive into a hot, soapy shower. Desire faded and winked out on the ride home, so you're all business as you scrub down and wash your hair so you won't have to deal with it in the morning. Once out, you change into a short robe and return to your bedroom to tackle the last of your homework.<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a lot longer to finish than you'd like, mostly because you are fielding texts from Heather and Veronica asking what the hell Chelsea Cooper wanted to talk to you about. You cuss Annabelle under your breath as you try swatting them away: <i>Why did you have to tell them you were going to meet Chelsea?</i> But that's another question you know the answer to. Although Annabelle pretends (even to herself) that she feels only contempt for "popular" girls—meaning girls who only chase popularity—there's no denying she felt excitement, and even a little preening pride, at having been noticed by the captain of the cheerleader squad and invited to a one-on-one conference about something or other. So she had to brag to her friends ahead of time, and now here you are having to deal with the aftermath. It does no good telling them that Chelsea's ideas were stupid, not when you have to tell them what the ideas were, and then have them insist that the ideas are actually pretty good and really are worth pursuing.<br/>
<br/>
You are rescued, sort of, by your mom, who looks in on you at a little before ten. "Didn't you finish your homework when you were out with your friends?" she asks. For that was the story Annabelle gave her: that she was going off to study with Heather and some others. (In fact, she had worked hard up at the school after classes let out, to get as much done ahead of time so she could spend the balance of the evening with Luke.)<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, there's a few Spanish exercises I forgot," you improvise. "In fact—" You turn off your phone and hold it out to her. "Can you take this away and give it back to me in the morning? I got people texting me and distracting me."<br/>
<br/>
Your mom's lips disappear. "You should have the discipline to ignore them," she says. But then, with a smile, she takes it from you. "Yeah, alright. Anyway, I just looked in to tell you that your dad and I are going out tomorrow night, but we still expect you back by your curfew."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes ma'am."<br/>
<br/>
She wishes you goodnight, kisses you on the forehead, and departs. You quickly finish your homework.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Later, in bed, as you stare up at the dark ceiling: <i>What the fuck is wrong with me?</i> you ask yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Your fingers are exploring the flair of hair down where your thighs meet, tugging and twisting the strands between index finger and thumb while the rest of your fingers stroke the flesh below. You're not chiding yourself for this invasion of Annabelle's privacy, for you <i>are</i> Annabelle now. Anyway, she does this to herself, and more, almost every night. Nor are you wondering why you're not getting a rise out of yourself, because you keep bumping into an image—the warm, solid, breathing image—of Luke Romero. And that, in contrast to the evening, is a buzz-kill.<br/>
<br/>
No, what you're wondering about is how hard and heedlessly you fell into his embrace and opened yourself to his mouth. It was like instinct—you suppose it <i>was</i> instinct, Annabelle's instinct—but you didn't fight it, you hardly registered it was happening, and once it was happening you bobbed along on Annabelle's passions without even thinking it was something that could be fought and resisted. Only now, alone in the quiet and the dark does it occur to you that you didn't have to go along with it.<br/>
<br/>
But even that isn't what worries you, not most deeply. Now that you have some distance, you feel certain you can rein and steer those instincts if you have to. You're not their slave. No, the trouble is that you have to acknowledge that you <i>enjoyed</i> those instincts, and where they took you. Even with the distance you think you now have, you aren't sure you wouldn't choose to indulge them again. In fact, as you anticipate the morning, imagining band practice and Luke waiting for you in the practice room—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mmmm!</i> You are suddenly warm, and a light, pleasant sweat breaks out over you. The memory of Luke, and of your naked body open and exposed to him, isn't the kill-joy it was a moment ago. In fact, now it might even be a turn on.<br/>
<br/>
<i>What the fuck is wrong with me?</i> you ask yourself as you grope deeper and harder at yourself while pretending it's Luke doing it to you. <i>Nothing that I could give two fucks about ...</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a cool morning with lots of clouds to fight the sunshine. You wore shorts to school again, but also a jacket, which you peel off in the band practice room while holding Luke's eye. You are wearing the camouflage halter top underneath: the one that's a secret message from Annabelle to Luke, telling him that she wants to see some "action" from him at some point during the day. He licks his lips, and lust gleams in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
That will be pleasure, and it will have to come later, for there's some work for you to do: getting yourself a partner down in the junior class. You were undecided about who to pick when you went to bed last night, but now you've narrowed it down to five "alpha girls" whom Annabelle quietly despises.<br/>
<br/>
The first is Stacy Stahl, a cheerleader wannabe and someone (from your joint perspective with Annabelle) who is setting herself up to be another Chelsea: bossy and tyrannical and exclusive. She's even got herself a "Gordon Black" of her own, in the form of Jason Rowe, the JV football quarterback.<br/>
<br/>
The second is Peyton Morrow, who you suppose would be the "Cindy Vredenburg"—the slightly hapless rival—to Stacy's Chelsea. Annabelle thinks of her as a "fashion victim," and feels sorry for Paris, Peyton's twin sister, who seems a lot more serious and grounded.<br/>
<br/>
Christine Miles is dating the junior class president, and she's a preening snob. Again, if you're going to compare her to someone in the senior class, it would be Kelsey Blankenship.<br/>
<br/>
Naomi Batson is someone Deanna suggested to you for an alias, and you're glad you didn't pick her. She's a snob like Christine, but an earnest, do-gooder snob who wants to run other people's lives because she thinks she's better than them.<br/>
<br/>
Last is Alexis Lachance, who is rich and who surrounds herself with a collection of gorgeous boyfriends and girlfriends. From the way you've heard your other candidates talk about her, they would all like to <i>be</i> her.<span class="QbcRddgOKK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135212551112
author_id: seuzz
id: JLVZBL5JX
title: Red Harvest
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Luke doesn't bring you to any kind of climax, he just leaves you panting and groaning and twitching while he hobbles off to spend himself into the nearby bushes. It leaves you digging the heel of your hand into your eye and wondering—with Annabelle's regret and your own relief—why you don't just start going all the way with him. He at least gets to get off when you get together. You're left with an unreachable itch.<br/>
<br/>
You know the answer, of course. Although Annabelle would trust Luke not to dump her after he's had his fun, she wouldn't trust him to be careful as he needs to be on his end, which would leave her needing to be as careful as she could on hers. And the last thing Annabelle wants is go on birth control, with or without her parents' knowledge.<br/>
<br/>
Although if <i>you</i> got her pregnant (accidentally!), then slipped into another identity, leaving one of those magical robots to take Annabelle's place—<br/>
<br/>
These thoughts are interrupted by Luke's return. He's still shirtless, and his jeans are hanging off the tops of his hips, exposing the hemline of his briefs—loudly emblazoned with the HANES logo—to the world. "Mmm, hey," he murmurs as he leans over you. You reach up to clasp him about the neck. "Was it fun for you too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>psssh!</i> Fun for <i>you!</i>" you grumble. "Me, I'm still—" You twist your hips and kick your feet into the air. "Love me some more."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't, I'm all—"<br/>
<br/>
You groan, then pull his face down to your naked breasts. "Luke," you mewl as you stroke the back of his head. "You do love me, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure I do, babe. You know I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Then why don't you try it again? With your tongue?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He doesn't. It's the one sore spot in the relationship. Luke gags when he gets his nose down anywhere close to Annabelle's cooch.<br/>
<br/>
You don't make a big deal of it, but you do shut down the makeout session by telling him you have to get home. Luke acts like a whipped cur.<br/>
<br/>
At home you peel off your clothes and dump them in the hamper, then dive into a hot, soapy shower; afterward, you change into a short robe and return to your bedroom to tackle the last of your homework. You turn off your phone so you won't have to bother with the texts from Heather and Veronica asking what the hell Chelsea Cooper wanted to talk to you about. But you still have a hard time concentrating, because you keep thinking of Scarlett Bard.<br/>
<br/>
The girl you've decided to "recruit" to your cause.<br/>
<br/>
You try to deny it, but eventually you have square up and face the fact: She angers you, and that's the reason you are going to do this thing to her. Turn her into a robot who will work with you.<br/>
<br/>
Oh sure, you tell yourself there's other reasons; good, practical reasons. Scarlett is not unpopular, but she strikes you as a schemer—as a Deanna equivalent, you suppose—and someone with that kind of brain could be useful. Also, you are still entertaining the idea of adding Bastian, and maybe his bandmates, to your string, because they <i>are</i> popular, and Scarlett could easily get you to them.<br/>
<br/>
But mostly it's anger that moves you. (Or moves Annabelle; you yourself would feel nothing about Scarlett Bard.) Scarlett is transparently manipulative, and narcissistic, and undeserving of the attention she garners for herself. Oblivious, too, to the image others have of her. That, you suppose, is the main reason you want to take her down. She's an offensive joke, and doesn't realize in the slightest what an offensive joke she is.<br/>
<br/>
But it's her narcissism, her preening pride, that will get her for you. You turn on your phone long enough to text Chelsea, to tell her what you want to do and how she can help you get it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Friday.</i> All anything anyone can talk about is the weekend.<br/>
<br/>
"You going to the Warehouse tonight?" Harmony Keener, one of your best friends, wants to know. She clutches you at your locker.<br/>
<br/>
"Luke's working tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"So? That means you can see him out there!"<br/>
<br/>
A suspicion crosses your mind. "Are <i>you</i> going to the Warehouse? But I thought you and me and Veronica were going to Legends!" you exclaim when she nods. "With—!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm tagging along with Mackenzie and Michael. Your friend Anne asked them to come with." She bounces on the balls of her feet. "I think <i>Thomas</i> might be going along too!" That would be Thomas Schmitz, a junior who made it onto the varsity squad.<br/>
<br/>
And it's basically like that all day long: friends making plans for the night, and sacrificing your company to make them.<br/>
<br/>
Which is okay. You've got plans of your own for the night.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Gordon's being a butt," Chelsea fumes as you march alongside her into the city library. It's after eight, and Deanna, who went on ahead, has texted to saymthat the third floor is clear of city employees. "He's been a butt ever since—" She casts you a sidelong look. "Ever since we partnered up. But get this!" She prattles on, like an angry mosquito, about the dumb fight she got into with him because she told him she had "stuff to do" tonight before she could meet him up in the loft. "I just about told him I'd changed my mind and didn't want to meet him. But I guess we have to keep up appearances." She giggles. "Though I can think of someone else I'd rather play cuddle-buggums with."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Cuddle-buggums?</i> you wonder. But you don't query it.<br/>
<br/>
Deanna is waiting in the conference room, and she and Chelsea make themselves comfortable at the head of the table while you sit at the foot and set out your supplies and gear. You can do your homework later this weekend, and Luke is busy at the Warehouse, so you had time to go to the basement and make another mask, for use on Scarlett. Still, you are anxious. You have those plans with Heather and Veronica.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea and Deanna are both occupied with their phones, but they look up every now and then to exchange news and commentary on things they've found and are following. You spend your time drumming your fingers.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, Chelsea looks up to tell you that Scarlett has texted to say she's arrived. At a nod from you, Deanna hurries from the conference room. You cradle the new mask in your hand, and move into a corner of the room, near the door.<br/>
<br/>
You hear muffled voices in the hallway, and tense. The door opens inward, and you slide in behind it. Someone comes in, but you catch yourself before you can strike: it's Deanna. She catches sight of you from the corner of her eye, and freezes; you show her your teeth, and with a stammer she jumps out of the way.<br/>
<br/>
Now Scarlett steps in. Like Deanna, she glances behind the door and spots you. You don't hesitate, though, but shove the mask at her face. She staggers back a step, bounces off a of leather-backed chair, and tumbles hard to the ground, where she lies crumpled.<br/>
<br/>
You and Deanna exchange wide-eyed glances of shock, then you kick the door shut and bend over Scarlett. She is laying twisted on her side, and for a moment you hesitate to move her; but then, as Deanna shifts her legs, you reach under Scarlett's armpits and shift her onto her back. Her face is pale and her eyes staring. Unnerved by the sight, you push her lids down.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"We're going to be friends, Scarlett," you tell your newest partner after she's awake and on her feet. (Fortunately, she doesn't seem to have taken any harm from her fall.) "But secret friends. We're not going to tell <i>}anyone</i> about this." You squeeze her arm and give her a conspiratorial smile. She returns your grin with a blank stare. Then a smile creases her face.<br/>
<br/>
Over the next half hour you outline your plans to her, with eager help from Deanna and Chelsea: How you are making "secret friends" and joining them into a "secret club," and how you will be making the school a friendlier place for you and your "secret friends." "We're going to be running things at school," you tell her, "after we've made enough 'secret friends'. You like that idea, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," she says tentatively. But her "Totally," which she adds after you've given her an encouraging nod, is a lot more enthusiastic.<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome. Now sit down and tell me all about yourself."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's an interesting and revealing conversation. You can't say you come out the other side of it liking or respecting "Scarlett" Bard more. But you understand her better. And even better than that, you understand how to twist the girl's ambitions and resentments in furtherance of your own. You are well satisfied when you send her off to keep her regular Friday night date with her boyfriend, but with plans to meet tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think?" you ask Deanna and Chelsea when Scarlett has gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," Deanna says, "I can't picture her at all joining Slow Fast Hazel, let alone the Hi-Hats."<br/>
<br/>
"She could," you muse, "if she, you know, hooked up with Jelena. The way she got onto Los Scorchicos by hooking up with Bastian."<br/>
<br/>
"Jelena wouldn't hook up with her."<br/>
<br/>
"She might if we added her to the club."<br/>
<br/>
Deanna's eyes widen, and she and Chelsea exchange a gleeful glance.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, Scarlett isn't content with playing in a cute-boy, underclassman band. She wants to move to the top, and Slow Fast Hazel is about as close to the top as you can get among local high school bands. And Jelena Petrovic, the band's leader and vocalist, is both gay and very cool. A natural influencer who would work well on your team, now that you think of it.<br/>
<br/>
But that would take some work. Much quicker to execute would be the idea you got after this afternoon's talk with Harmony: Lasso in Anne Starkey, then use her to make some replacements on the football team. And quicker still to execute an earlier thought: to use her to add Bastian and his band.<span class="QbcRddgOKK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111352125511121
author_id: seuzz
id: W79RJSZ74
title: Switch masks with Scarlett
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2302274-BoM-Poll-Friday-Night-Frolics" target="_top" title="Where does the story go next?">BoM Poll: Friday Night Frolics</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2302274-BoM-Poll-Friday-Night-Frolics" target="_blank" title="Where does the story go next?"><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/>
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path: 1131221113521255111211
author_id: seuzz
id: GCXX4FFDZ
title: Better Off Red
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"Wait here a minute," you tell the new Scarlett Bard, as you turn to hide yourself behind some furniture, where you will disrobe yourself. "No, hang on. Wait outside in your car. I'll text when I'm ready for you."<br/>
<br/>
She nods, returns the lollipop to her mouth, and slowly on shifting hips mounts the stairs and goes out the door. You have to wipe away some flop sweat.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You scramble for the phone when you wake: you are groggy, you feel like you've been asleep for hours. But a check of the time shows that less than ten minutes have passed since you started taking off your clothes. And now you are out of the mask and—<br/>
<br/>
You freeze. <i>But am I out of the mask?</i> you wonder. You don't feel any different, and Annabelle's memories and a sense of her personality still swirl about your brain, like a heavy cloud of gnats. You rub your eyes and look down at yourself.<br/>
<br/>
You flinch at the sight of your flat, bony, naked body with the hair stick out in odd places, and your skinny legs. To further confirm the change back, the mask of Annabelle is lying next to your hip. With a groan and a sigh you get up and shake the grogginess from your head.<br/>
<br/>
But still you've got that <i> sense of Annabelle</i> about you. <i>A hot shower and a mind douche,</i> you tell yourself as you grind knuckles into your eyes. <i>That's what I need.</i> There's no prospect of either one, though, so you just pick up Annabelle's phone and text Scarlett, telling her to come back in. You then hide yourself behind a convenient bookcase, with only your head poking out.<br/>
<br/>
It's a minute before Scarlett reenters, and she pauses on the stairway when she sees you. Her jaw drops open slightly.<br/>
<br/>
That's when you realize things are going to be even more awkward than you had supposed. You will have to give some story to Scarlett to explain why Annabelle vanished and you (naked) appeared—and that you are in the one in charge of things.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I know you don't know me," you croak at her. "But I'm, uh, Annabelle's boss. And I'm, uh, also part of the gang. I'm one of the 'secret friends'." You can't help rolling your eyes a little at the phrase. "And I need you to, um—" You hesitate, and feel the blush rushing up into your face. "I need you to get undressed."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you say, boss," Scarlett says, and to your shock starts to casually take off her top.<br/>
<br/>
"No, wait! You can do it down here," you tell her, indicating the conference table. "And I'll, um, I'll promise not to watch."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you say," she repeats.<br/>
<br/>
You turn your back as she comes the rest of the way down into the basement. Her clothes rustle heavily each other, and your blush turns into a sweat. Then the table creaks as she gets atop it, and after the hard <i>bhlunk</i> of shoes hitting the floor comes the softer sounds of clothes dropping. A moment later, Scarlett says, "Ready for what comes next."<br/>
<br/>
You glance over your shoulder. Scarlett is perched on the table with her own back to you, and glancing over her own shoulder at you. <i>Okay, the sooner I get this over with, the better,</i> you tell yourself with a grimace.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you lay down for me?" you ask. "On your back. Um—" But before you can assure her that nothing bad will happen, she complies, exposing her nakedness to you. You feel your eyes water as you try not to look at her from the neck down. "Now hold still," you say as you shuffle over and extend a hand toward her face, "while I—"<br/>
<br/>
Thank God the mask comes away the first time you pull at it. There's no evident change in Scarlett, except that her eyes are now shut instead of staring levelly back up at you. You're not sure, but you might have heard a faint <i>clunk</i> as the mask came away, as though her head had lifted with the mask, and fallen back when the mask released  her.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever. You grab up Annabelle's mask and lay it onto Scarlett's face. The change is instantaneous as, without a ripple, Scarlett Bard's face and form are replaced by Annabelle Edwards's. Her eye snap open, and she looks up and over at you.<br/>
<br/>
"What the—?" she gasps as she sits up sharply. Then she grabs her head with both hands. "Oof!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Head rush." She grunts again, then drops her hands to look around. "Where's Scarlett?" She does a double-take and peers narrowly at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Um. Here, I guess." You show her the mask of Scarlett.<br/>
<br/>
Annabelle stares at the mask, then jumps a little. "Oh, of course. Dur." She scrambles onto her feet, and only now do you realize you are not nearly as embarrassed by her nakedness as you were by Scarlett's. "Makes sense."<br/>
<br/>
"It does?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." She glances around and spots her clothes. "I was—" She pauses. "I guess it was me," she muses. "I was making a mask and I was going to use it on her. And I got her out here and got the mask onto her and then—" Again she pauses, and blinks, and traces movements in the air with her forefinger. She rests a palm against her temple, then drops it. "I'm not totally sure how this works," she murmurs. Then her expression clears up. "But I guess you do!"<br/>
<br/>
"Do I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you?" She frowns. "You're the boss, shouldn't you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes I'm the boss," you quickly assure her. "I definitely I know what's going on and how it works. I'm just— Well, I don't know." You brush the topic away with a shake of your head. It is tedious trying to figure out what Annabelle knows and how she knows it, and whether she ought to know. "Point is, you should get dressed and I should—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to put on that mask now, aren't you?" Annabelle says as she snatches up her underthings. Then again she pauses. "I guess that'll make Scarlett boss."<br/>
<br/>
"Will it? I mean—" you correct yourself as Annabelle again gives you a puzzled look. "Yes it will. I'll still be the boss," you tell her more firmly. "But I'll look like Scarlett."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh."<br/>
<br/>
"So you should tell the others."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do that soon as I get done here," she says as she pulls on more of her clothes. "Um, is there anything you want me to do? I— We've got that mask we made. And we were going to use it on ... Jelena?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. But we need to wait. Besides, you'll probably have Luke to take care of."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Luke." She rolls her eyes. "But what do you mean? Take care of him?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't know what you mean, so you just tell her to go on with her life and to let you worry about Jelena. "That's something I can do," she say as she ties up her shoes. "But is that all you need from me?"<br/>
<br/>
"For the moment."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, just holler," she says. She looks around with a vague expression, as though she's mislaid something but can't remember what it is. "You're the boss." Then with a dismissive shrug she marches for the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
You let out a sigh when she's gone. <i>Why was that so discombobulating?</i> you wonder. It leaves you ill at ease, and you examine Scarlett's mask now with a sense of distaste. You've got a disquieting sense that these "allies" of yours know more about what's going on than you suspect they do—and that means they know more about what's going on than you do.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Whatever,</i> you tell yourself for about the third time that afternoon. <i>I should finish this up. Scarlett may have places she needs to be.</i><br/>
<br/>
You settle onto your back on the conference table, and hold the mask over your face. Slowly, after shutting your eyes, you settle it onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You'd found an old, dusty, floor-length mirror in one of the corners of the basement, and you are staring into it now as you examine your new self. Gingerly you touch yourself, almost with a sense of shock. Your mouth hangs open slightly.<br/>
<br/>
You'd felt a momentary confusion on waking—<i>Who am I and where am I?</i>—but that had quickly cleared up, and you had scrambled onto your feet and clasped your arms about yourself against the chill of the basement. A moment later you remembered the mirror, and hopped over to it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>My God, I'm Scarlett Bard!</i> you gasp to yourself in astonishment. <i>Look at me!</i><br/>
<br/>
You are quite a sight, if you say so yourself, and Scarlett Bard is often saying such things to herself. The gleeful fascination you feel as you look yourself over is not a new emotion for Scarlett. Behind the mental mask of Scarlett, which can hardly tear its gaze from her reflection, and back behind your own personality, which is almost as fascinated by her face and her naked form, there is a still pool of thought that is your own, and it is snorting to itself and muttering, <i>What a freaking narcissist she is!</i><br/>
<br/>
Yes, Scarlett loves mirrors, and selfies, and watching herself on the screen of her phone while prepping the selfies. Scarlett Bard is her own biggest fan.<br/>
<br/>
Well, she's got a right to be, you think as you run gentle fingertips over your neckline, and the tops and tips of your boobs—generous but not overly endowed—and down the soft, slightly flabby stomach to her pink, shaved-and-waxed regions. It's not only a beautiful body, but a beautiful form to adorn with clothes and makeup and little pieces of jewelry. So much does she appreciate it that Scarlett changes outfits at least once a day. The thought would surprise you if you didn't have her memories and instincts draped lightly over you, like a silken veil.<br/>
<br/>
And speaking of which, you need to get dressed now if you're going to keep that date with Bastian. He's taking you to see <i>Howling Skies</i> this afternoon, though chances are you'll just wind up necking in the back corner. <i>Mmm! Me and Bastian!</i> A thrill of anticipation runs through you.<span class="QbcRddgOKK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135212551112112
author_id: seuzz
id: C34FXTH4B
title: A Self-Made Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You dress slowly, enjoying the feel of the clothes as you pull them onto your body, and watching yourself in the mirror. First come the tight, frilly panties, then the bra. (Your nostrils flare with pleasure at the heft and firmness of each of your breasts as you tuck them into a cup.) Then you tug the jeans shorts—the hems stopping just above the knees—up your legs and button them closed. Then the blue-and-white sailor top. (Except it's not really a sailor top, it's a soft, heavy, white hoodie with a triangle of blue-and-white stripes over the breastbone.) Last, you sit on a table to pull on and tie the black Chuck Taylor high-tops over your bare feet. <br/>
<br/>
Now you're dressed, but you've got to do something about your hair and makeup. It's funny: when you peer closely into the mirror you can see that the mask copied the foundation and the white powder, but the rest of the makeup is splotchy and a little smudged. So you open your bag and take out the powder and the lip gloss and the mascara and the eyebrow pencil; the fingernail polish; and all the other little things that you need. It's too dark in the basement to give yourself the treatment you really need or want, but Scarlett's practiced habits and knowledge are enough to get the basics down, particularly the eye-liner and eye-shadow that she uses to augment the natural shape of her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, yeah. Her eyes.</i> There's a story there.<br/>
<br/>
It starts with the fact that Scarlett has never felt close to her father, but it wasn't until middle school that she learned that the emotional distance between them was—or was supposed to be—unusual. It was a talk she had with her friends that set her to thinking. It was a lot of light and general girl talk about being "daddy's special girl" (and how sometimes that was a good thing and sometimes a bad thing for a girl), and into the middle of it Esther Menzies confessed that she would never be able to feel close to her stepfather because that's what he was—her <i>stepfather,</i> not her biological father. And that set Sonia to wondering if it wasn't the same thing with her: maybe she felt distant from her father because he wasn't her biological father. Somehow, the idea didn't seem horrible. It seemed something like a relief.<br/>
<br/>
Well, that was the seed, and it sprouted in fertile soil. Sonia had always been a dreamy girl, prone to fantasy and self-dramatization. When she played with dolls, the dolls were not "Barbie" or "Jasmine" or "Lagoona Blue," they were her—Sonia—and all their adventures were happening to her. The same with any stories she read (and with the stories she wrote during an intense but short-lived burst of fan-fiction writing in the eighth grade): the girl in the high-fantasy stories were always her. So it didn't take much to invent an elaborate and secret fantasy backstory wherein her father was not her father (and sometimes her mother was not her mother), and that she came from somewhere else, like a changeling child. It helped that her eyes have a slight almond cast to them, easy to augment with a little shadow and mascara. And so "Scarlett Bard" was born. Her biographical details were hazy and varied. Usually she was simply "half Japanese," and when explanations were demanded she would say (when she was mad at her dad) that her "real father" was a Japanese man her mother had met before marrying her current husband, or that she had two or more Japanese ancestors back in the family tree and that her eyes came from them. Once, her mother called her to account for these stories, which had somehow gotten back to her, and Sonia with a nervous shrug had only said that she was making up stories to amuse the other kids. It put her mother in a bad temper, but luckily she dropped it.<br/>
<br/>
After getting your makeup done, you turn to your hair, which has lately acquired an auburn rinse and been trimmed back to hang just below the earlobes. You carefully brush it until it is lustrous. Then you pack everything away and stand back to examine the full effect. <i>Perfect,</i> you tell yourself as you turn around and around, greedily drinking in your bare thighs and calves; the curve of your ass; the softened bulge of your breasts, and the slim pedestal of your neck. Atop all this floats the puckish, J-pop mask that's your face. <i>Well,</i> you have correct yourself, <i>as perfect as I can get it in this creepy place.</i> You wince as you glance around the basement. <i>I'm going to need a better workshop, if I'm going to run things from here.</i> But that's a problem for another day.<br/>
<br/>
Into your giant bag of a purse you slide a completed mask, a paint brush, and the tubs of sealant, and out from it you pull another sucker. You unwrap and toss the cellophane away, put it to your mouth, and dimple at the reflection of the incredibly cute girl you've become.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>My stupid mom says I have to stay in,</i> you text Bastian while stopped at a light. <i>So can't go to movie with you.</i> You add a string of five crying emojis. You would have added more, and some other emojis, but the light changes.<br/>
<br/>
Your plan had been to meet up with Bastian for that movie, but just as you were getting into your car Chelsea had texted to say that Jelena was on her way over. Almost you told Chelsea to cancel the meeting, that you had other plans, but then you reflected that it would be better to disappoint Bastian than to miss a chance to capture Jelena. You can always see him later tonight, or on Sunday.<br/>
<br/>
Bastian replies as you're pulling up to Chelsea's house, wanting to know if you're grounded. You tell him, <i>Something like that,</i> and follow up by saying that you have to turn off your phone. In the back of your mind, you find yourself thinking that Scarlett really isn't very good at making up plausible stories, and that her lies too quickly spiral out of control, but you've got other things to think about at the moment. There's more than one car parked in front of Chelsea's house. You twirl the sucker nervously in your mouth as you ring the doorbell.<br/>
<br/>
The door is opened by a woman who looks like Chelsea plus about twenty years. "Hi," you stammer. "Um, is Chelsea in? I'm, um, supposed to be—"<br/>
<br/>
The woman beams. "Okay, so <i>you</i> must be Scarlett! My goodness, the look the other girl gave me when I asked if she was you. I'm Chelsea's mom. Don't mind me. Chelsea!" she yells. Then, to you: "Maybe you should go right on up." She gestures at a staircase just off the foyer. You nod and make for it. As you set a foot on the lower-most step, the tousled head of a college-age male pokes in through the doorway to another room. He does a double-take at you, and you pretend not to notice as he stares.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea meets you at the top of the stairs. "Oh, thank God you're here," she murmurs. "I'm having to make up all kinds of stuff just to keep her here!"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" The story that she used to lure Jelena is the same one she used to lure Scarlett, that she wants to hire a band to play at a party she's planning to throw, and if that was enough to entice Scarlett, it should be enough to entice Jelena.<br/>
<br/>
"What I mean is, I don't think she's interested. She—"<br/>
<br/>
A figure steps through an open doorway behind Chelsea. It's Jelena Petrovic, and the scowl on her face is well-matched to the dirty jeans, white t-shirt, and leather jacket she's wearing. "Listen, I have to go—" she starts to say, but stops dead when she sees you. Her eyes narrow.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea whirls. "Can't you stay for just a few more minutes?" she whines as she whips her glance between you and Jelena. "I— I mean, uh, Scarlett here—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck this,</i> you think, and feel yourself surfacing from beneath Scarlett's candy-like exterior. You shove the lollipop back into your mouth to get it out of your hands, drop your bag to the floor, bend to pull the mask from it, then march smartly past Chelsea to slam it into Jelena's face. She just has time to look surprised before her expression goes blank and she falls back against a door frame and slumps to the floor. Chelsea squeals.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," you snap as you bend to grab one of Jelena's arms. "Help me get her into your room." Chelsea hustles over to help.<br/>
<br/>
Jelena is not a big girl, but she's too much for two smaller girls to easily handle, and you're only just able to haul her across the floor and into the bedroom before there's the sound of footsteps outside. Chelsea whirls and jumps out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. The sound of muffled voices is barely audible over the hammering of your heart in your ears. A moment later Chelsea re-enters, and leans against the door after she shuts it behind her.<br/>
<br/>
"My freaking perv of a brother," she snorts, "wants to know who the hot anime girl is."<br/>
<br/>
You can't help being flattered. "Really? He thinks I'm a hot anime girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what he says." Then she tilts her head, and seems to really see you for the first time. "I know it's you boss," she says, "but it's just such a change from the other one. Why the switch?"<br/>
<br/>
"It seemed like a good idea." You bite on the sucker, crunching it into a thousand shards, and pull the stick from your mouth. "Got a waste basket?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea points at her desk. "Who are we adding after Jelena?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Not sure. I'll have to think about it."<br/>
<br/>
"I've been making a list."<br/>
<br/>
The confession startles you. <i>Independent initiative?</i> You weren't expecting that.<br/>
<br/>
But you were expecting to relax a little, and enjoy things, after your switch into Scarlett.<span class="QbcRddgOKK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111355
author_id: seuzz
title: Minion Mine
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your plan is to seed the high school with doppelgangers of popular, influential students, who will follow your commands. Popular, influential students like Chelsea Cooper, who you've already replaced. And you will command them from a position of relative insignificance: a nobody that no one will guess is the real puppetmaster of Westside High.<br/>
<br/>
But nothing in this plan says you have to start with the nobody. You could just as easily—maybe more easily—start as one of those doppelgangers-to-be, and then from a perch of relative influence pick out your ultimate hiding spot.<br/>
<br/>
And the more you ponder that idea, the more you like it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You start by driving back to the old elementary school to take stock of your supplies. You've got one blank mask, good for copying someone's face and body, but you've got the stuff to make more. You'll need one to copy yourself, for instance, and one to copy your first victim. You should make a third, so as to have one on hand if another victim becomes available, and you might as well have a fourth ...<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, hell.</i> You use up all the supplies making as many as you can. You wind up with six new masks and seven of those metal bands, though the latter still need runes carved into them.<br/>
<br/>
After dinner at home, you drive back out to the school—telling your parents you're headed to the library to do homework with a friend—and return to work. You've barely got started with the car buffer when you pull out your phone to text Chelsea: <i>R u busy?</i> you ask, then give her directions to the elementary school along with orders to come find you.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God," she gasps when you open the basement door and guide her inside. "What is this place, your secret hideout?"<br/>
<br/>
"Basically. My supervillain lair." You rub her back, and she turns to smirk up at you. "I'm making more masks."<br/>
<br/>
You show her the fruit of the afternoon's labor, and how you're using the car buffer to quickly polish them. You also show her the memory strips you've made, and the glue that will attach them to the masks. Chelsea is impressed.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa," she says. "What are you going to do with these?"<br/>
<br/>
"Make doppelgangers. Like I explained to you? You make a mask of someone, then you seal it up and put some of this stuff into it." You show her the tub containing the goop that enslaves mask-wearers. "Boom. Now you've got a fake version of the person, that has to obey you. Or, in this case, me."<br/>
<br/>
Her grin is bright and beguiling. "And me too, right, boss? That's what you told me. I could—"<br/>
<br/>
"Change of plans, Chelsea. You were the first one." Your heart skips as, without quite intending it, you find yourself confessing what you've done. "You're one of my doppelgangers." A light sweat pops out on your brow, because you're not sure how she'll take it.<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes vibrate in their sockets, like she's been hit in the face with a shovel. "What did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said—" <br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, but there seems nothing else to do but confirm and lean into the confession. There's nothing to do but make it <i>work</i> for you.<br/>
<br/>
So you put your arms around the fake girl and crush her to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not the real Chelsea Cooper," you tell her. "You're a doppelganger." <i>Make her like it,</i> you think, so you bend to put your face to hers, and rub your nose against her cheek. "You're her replacement." Your cock stiffens and rises and prods at her through the front of your shorts. "You are the <i>new and improved</i> Chelsea Cooper."<br/>
<br/>
Fake-Chelsea catches her breath, and you hear her swallow.<br/>
<br/>
"That's kind of a surprise," she says. "I— Oh!"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Oh!</i> Is that—? Is that how come I'm calling you 'boss'?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right." You softly smooch her on the side of her nose. Her skin is silky and fragrant, and she rustles invitingly inside her clothes. "And you love it," you inform her. "You <i>love</i> being the Chelsea doppelganger."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea groans, and hugs you back tightly. "Oh. Yes, I think I do," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"You love being Chelsea Cooper, because Chelsea Cooper is an awesome girl to be," you tell her. You're not sure where the words are coming from, you just know that you have to do everything you can to make her content. "You <i>never</i> want the real girl to come back. You want to be her forever. And you want—" You interrupt yourself by giving her a long, slow kiss on the mouth. "You want to help me make <i>more</i> doppelgangers of <i>other</i> people."<br/>
<br/>
She shudders in your arms. "Oh God, <i>yes,</i> Will!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's all you can do to stop yourself from pulling your shorts down and tucking your cock into her panties. But you do manage to restrain yourself, for you've got things to do, and you'll have oodles of time later to prick Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
So you show her how to use the car buffer on the masks, and how much and for how long they need to be polished, while you turn to the longer, slower, and more exacting work of etching runes into the metal strips you made. By the time you part for the evening, Chelsea has finished four masks while you've only completed one of the memory strips. You also set her to thinking about who at the school should be replaced. "Suppose you could pick only six people," you told her. "And you have to make each one count." <br/>
<br/>
And so, during the breaks after she had finished one mask and was getting ready to work on another, she shared her thoughts with you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Wednesday morning.</i> You wake early to the buzz of your cell phone. It's Chelsea. Instantly, you are awake.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You should probably delete these texts and my number,</i> reads the first text. <i>If I'm really undercover I probably shouldn't be seen talking to you or texting you. Sorry!</i> It's appended with a string of crying emojis.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Here's the names I came up with last night, and some more I thought of after.</i> The list that follows is at least twenty names long, and probably closer to thirty. Some of them you recognize, but a lot of them you don't. <br/>
<br/>
<i>If you want to talk to me you should make d-thing of one of these people.</i> At least the names on this list you all know: Steve Patterson, Cindy Vredenburg, Kim Walsh, Deanna Showalter, and Lin Pol.<br/>
<br/>
You blink at the texts, then reply with <i>Ok brb.</i> You hustle for the shower, hoping that the cold spray will flush away the last cobwebs of sleep. Back in your room, shivering with nothing but a towel around you, you shoot Chelsea another text: <i>U got a fake number or sthing we can use to talk?</i> Her reply doesn't come until after you're dressed. <i>Dm me on twitter?</i> she suggests. You grimace, as you don't remember the last time you used that platform. But after ten minutes of guessing passwords and getting a new one sent to you, you log into your account and DM Chelsea at the handle she provides. <i>Still think u should send thru someone else,</i> she replies. But you figure this will work for now.<br/>
<br/>
Your dad is surprised to see you up so early, but you give him a story about needing to meet someone at the school, and grab a frozen waffle to nibble as you rush out the door. You stop at the school basement to pick up all your supplies, so that you'll have them on hand at school, just in case.<br/>
<br/>
And it's a good thing you go in so armed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chelsea's text comes just as first period is about to start, and even more than the message, it's the fact that she texted you instead of using a DM that tells you there's an emergency. <i>Help will gordon not doing what I tell him begin a dickhead to me.</i> It takes you a moment to untangle her meaning. As the bell to start class is ringing you manage to get off an answer to her: <i>When can u skip class next?</i> Mr. Walberg glares at you as you check her answer when it comes a minute later, and you shut off your phone after glancing at the screen: <i>2 prd.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Chelsea whispers when you catch up to her in the library next period. You're in the stacks, a bookcase between you, whispering between the shelves as you each pretend to be occupied in searching for a book. "It was like he was back to normal. 'I'm busy, Chelsea.' 'Can we talk about this later, Chelsea.' 'I'll talk to you at lunch about this, Chelsea.' I thought he was supposed to do what I tell him!"<br/>
<br/>
You don't know what the technical explanation is, but you can sort-of, kind-of guess what the problem is. Gordon is a doppelganger, like Chelsea, but he was supposed to obey the real Chelsea, the way this fake cheerleader is supposed to obey you. But the real girl is gone, replaced by a duplicate. If so, that means Gordon Black is in danger of going rogue.<br/>
<br/>
He was made by putting a mask of Gordon over the petrified remains of the original, and you figure it would be easy enough to fix if you put yourself under the mask, and that would solve other problems, like being able to talk openly with Chelsea. You're a lot less sure of what would happen if you put some of that doppelganger paste inside Gordon's mask and put it back on the petrified original.<br/>
<br/>
But Chelsea says that he's acting "like he's back to normal." That's okay for now, isn't it? Maybe you can deal with the problem later.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113553
author_id: seuzz
title: As Seen from the Top of the Pyramid
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What were you trying to do with Gordon?" you whisper to Chelsea through the bookshelf. <br/>
<br/>
She glances around to ensure that there's no one loitering in her aisle. You also glance around. Someone's in the row behind you—between the books, you can just make out a dark blob, like a head—but you don't think they can hear you. Still, you push up close against the shelf as Chelsea's voice falls to just the softest whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted him to wait for me in the loft this period," she says. "So we could talk. About this stuff. So I could tell him what we're doing."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, don't do that," you whisper back. "Leave him alone, don't tell him anything. You say he's acting normal?" Chelsea's golden scalp—it's all you can really make out of her through the gap between the shelves—bobs up and down. "Then treat him normal. Like he's normal, he's not—" Your voice drops almost to nothing. "Not a doppelganger. I'll try to look at him later, figure out what's wrong, fix him."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea nods again. "I'll DM you if I need to talk to you again. I was just in such a panic, boss! I—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you think about those names I sent you? Because if you turned one of them into—"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing this period?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm supposed to be in my Interior Design class."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, go hang out in the loft, write me a big-ass DM or something talking about all those names you gave me. Who are they, why should we—? I mean, I don't even know most of them!"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, boss. Where will you be?"<br/>
<br/>
"In here." There's no way you can sneak into your second-period class. Mr. Hawks is just as much of a hard-ass as Walberg is, and he's about ten times as sarcastic.<br/>
<br/>
You part, and make a point of exiting through the row behind, so you can see who it was that might have been spying on you. It's just a girl—you don't even recognize her—and she only looks up at you blankly as you squeeze past. Out of the corner of your eye you watch Chelsea as she sashays through the library.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get to endure Carson Ioeger's company for the balance of second period, for it's his study hall, and he gestures you over to his table so he can repeat his threat about not asking Caleb for the money he owes you. It pisses you off, so when lunchtime comes you ditch both Caleb and Keith, and Carson and his friends, to grab a fast bite from the cafeteria—you ran out of the house without a lunch—then squat behind G wing to study the DMs that Chelsea sent you. She is nothing if not complete in giving you a rundown of all the names.<br/>
<br/>
But what it more or less comes down to, after you've read and reread and re-reread the DMs and reorganized the names, is that she has picked out five basic groups to infiltrate.<br/>
<br/>
The first is the circle that she herself moves in, and these would be the people she suggested you should replace so that you can communicate better. You've serious doubts about two of her suggestions: Steve Patterson is an asshole basketball player like Gordon, and it would be as weird to be seen talking to him as to Chelsea. The same—or worse—is true of Cindy Vredenburg, who isn't just a snooty cheerleader but is dating Seth Javits, another asshole basketball player who would pound you into a pancake if he caught you talking to his girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
At least Lin Pol, though a cheerleader, sometimes talks to you because she's friends with Jenny Ashton, who you know through Carson and James. And Deanna Showalter? She's a name you conjured with earlier. You don't know her personally, but you doubt it would look weird to anyone if you were seen talkingtogether. But really, the only name of the five that makes sense is Kim Walsh, another candidate you already considered.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's the "smart set" that Chelsea has suggested. Kelsey Blankenship and Amanda Ferguson top this list. She's also included Catherine Muskov along with Marc Garner and his sisters Eva and Jessica. Chelsea seemingly wants to make Kelsey a victim because of some grudge that her original harbored, and for much the same reason you privately add Geoff Mansfield (who stole your ex-girlfriend from you) to the list as well.<br/>
<br/>
It's a daisy chain of associations that links the next bunch of names together. Jelena Petrovic heads it, and Chelsea recommends her because she plays in a "punk" band and so, Chelsea says, she's got a ton of social cred. But then there's also the girls she's known to hang out with: Sienna Goldman, who plays in a different band, and Fatima Zahedi and Rebecca Sykes and Brianna Gould, who are total groupies, and ... and ... and ... The standout name in this chain of associations, of course, is Andrea Varnsworth.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea also talks about infiltrating some of the sports teams by replacing some of the important and popular players. She gives a couple of examples. Some of them—like Stephanie Wyatt, a hard-ass gym rat who scares the shit out of you—you know. Others—like Reagan Hackett of the volleyball squad—you don't. The list of names here isn't comprehensive, and it includes some guys' names, but you can fill in the rest.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, there are a several names you don't know anything about. Chelsea describes them briefly, but not well enough that you get much of a sense of them. But you don't dismiss them out of hand, either. If Chelsea thinks they are worth duplicating and replacing, then they must have something going for them, and it occurs to you that it might be best to start with one them. They are distant from you and people you know, and through them you might expose yourself to more possibilities that otherwise would be invisible.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're on your way back to library for your seventh-period study hall when a brawny arm closes around your neck. Another hand grabs the back of your belt, and you are hauled off your feet and shoved against the crowd, breaking and pushing it apart like the prow of an ice breaker. Your captor carries you along this way until you reach the wide corridor that runs in front of the library. There you are set down and spun about. Gordon Black, a fell light in his eye, grabs your throat in a meaty paw and shoves you against the wall. Behind him, Steve Patterson, tall and rangy, stares at you with eyes the color of a frigid Arctic mist.<br/>
<br/>
"This is the motherfucker," Gordon growls. "Stupid hat." He knocks your cap off. "Shitty haircut. Face that—" He mauls you with an open palm, and you can only just make out the word "gravel" in what he says. "If you see him anywhere close to Chelsea, anywhere near the gym— Fuck! If you see him, <i>period!"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I get it," Patterson says.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!" Gordon glares murder at you. "I gotta get to class." He shoves you sideways, and you almost fall off your feet.<br/>
<br/>
He's gone when you straighten up, but Patterson remains. He doesn't touch you, but he steps up close enough that you can smell the laundry detergent in his button-up shirt.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, little man," he says in a voice that's softer than Gordon's, but even more terrifying for the inhuman chill of it. "It looks like you pissed off the wrong people." His voice falls to a raspy whisper. "You understand what that means, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... lp!"<br/>
<br/>
"It means you can get fucked up anytime, anywhere. And you're <i>going</i> to be."<br/>
<br/>
For a miserably long minute he keeps you pinned there as you try not to shit yourself. Not once does he touch you, not until he says, "Pick up your goddamn hat, you sad little fuck," and when you bend over to retrieve it he kicks your feet out from under you and leaves you sprawling on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So it looks like your career as Will Prescott needs to end, and the sooner you move on the better. In the library you pore over the DMs that Chelsea sent you. It almost doesn't matter, you feel, which name you pick, for you're likely to wind up replacing most if not all of the names she suggested with doppelgangers.<br/>
<br/>
Still, there's no point in rushing into things, and you weigh the pros and cons of each name and each group. Ease of doing the switch. The ability to talk to Chelsea. The general "attractiveness" of the target.<br/>
<br/>
Gradually, though, you retreat from considering individual names and concentrate on the "groups" that you picked out. By the end of the study hall, you've settled on:<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135531
author_id: seuzz
title: The Hands, Eyes, and Ears of Fate
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Just before the bell rings, ending your study hall, you DM Chelsea: <i>What class u have now?</i> You don't want to go to your last class of the day, and if you have a chance to talk to Chelsea again, you'd like to take it.<br/>
<br/>
Her answer comes a minute later. (Bless her, she must be dutifully checking her DMs at most every class break, to be sure of catching a message from you.) <i>Sudy hall in library,</i> she tells you, <i>with kendra n gloria.</i><br/>
<br/>
And just as you're reading it, you look up in time to see Kendra come striding in. She gives you the briefest of glances as she passes, as though you're a bug.<br/>
<br/>
Kendra and Gloria are cheerleaders, and two of Chelsea's key sycophants. Kendra is a light-skinned black (her ancestors came from Kenya, she is always reminding people) with the physique of a track runner. Her hair is dyed a light crimson and falls in ringlets past her shoulders. Gloria is a lot plusher and more buxom, with thick, dark hair and pouting lips.<br/>
<br/>
Either of them, being close to Chelsea, would be easy to get to, and you'd have no problems then talking and texting with her from behind their faces. But Chelsea mentioned neither of them as a possible replacement, and you can understand why: they are already "servants" of Chelsea, and replacing them with magical clones would be redundant.<br/>
<br/>
Still, given the warning that Steve and Gordon gave you, they have both just made your list.<br/>
<br/>
But Steve himself was someone that Chelsea mentioned. With him under your control, she pointed out, you'd have more or less monopoly access to the loft, where you could plot and plan without fear. Besides, she added, "the dickface has it coming."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy Vredenburg, Deanna Showalter, and Lin Pol were other girls that Chelsea mentioned. You strike Deanna from consideration, because you're not sure how to get to her quickly, and you bump Lin to the bottom of the list because Chelsea admitted that she and Lin are hardly on speaking terms, that she listed Lin mostly because "we have cheerleading together" and because "Lin's a slut with the Eastman basketball squad and maybe we want to make some changes over there?" But Cindy, though a rival to Chelsea on the cheerleading squad, is more socially prominent than Lin. And Chelsea could probably get Cindy alone pretty easily, on the pretext of hashing out their differences.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves Kim Walsh as the last of Chelsea's suggested "close connections" that you think you can get too easily and quickly.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea herself comes swinging into the library as you're chewing over the list, and she gives you a long look out of the corner of her eye as she passes you. She drops her backpack onto the table in front of Kendra and clucks her tongue. "Gloria's going to be late again, isn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
"She usually is," Kendra says.<br/>
<br/>
"And it's not like her locker's on the other side of the school!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's disrespect, Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea clucks her tongue again. "Don't try to stir up shit, Kendra," she sneers. "Or if you're gonna try, at least try not to be so flipping obvious about it." She tosses her hair as she settles into her seat, and lifts up her phone to peer down her nose at it.<br/>
<br/>
You've seen enough, and you don't want to tempt Chelsea into acting "in character" with you. So you scoop up your stuff and (against your earlier intuition) scamper off to class. You make it inside just before the bell rings, and it's not until the final bell has rung that you are able to DM your instructions to Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I need ur help get—</i><span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111355313
author_id: seuzz
title: If You Were Only Someone Else
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>I need ur help get Kim Walsh alone at ur house.</i><br/>
<br/>
That's the DM you send Chelsea as you're heading out from school, and your heart is pounding as you push through the hallways toward your locker. Will Chelsea be able to arrange it? Will you be able to make the switch?<br/>
<br/>
What will it be like to be another person?<br/>
<br/>
That's the question that preoccupies you, and gives you the sweats all over as you change out books at your locker and make your way to your truck. So far all this stuff with the book and the masks and the spells has just been research mixed with arts-and-crafts, like a really weird woodworking project.<br/>
<br/>
But now you're faced (haha! "faced", like stealing a face) with the actual magic. What you're planning to do will be literally life-altering, as in you're going to switch your life with that of another person. When you look in the mirror ... you will see someone else's face. When you look down at yourself ... it will be someone else's body. When you look at your mom and dad ... it will be someone else's mom and dad. And when other people look at you, talk to you, play with you, confide in you ... it will be because they'll think you're someone else.<br/>
<br/>
Someone named Kim Walsh.<br/>
<br/>
Kim is a small, slim girl with dark red hair that falls in a thick cascade of ringlets to just past her shoulders. She has dark eyes in a pale face dusted with tiny, almost invisible freckles. Her nose is regular and her mouth is small and pink. She doesn't show her teeth when she smiles, and you've never seen her smile very often because she usually intense and preoccupied. You have the impression that she works hard for good grades, and that she's got lots of extracurricular activities. She hasn't got a boyfriend, because (you have the impression) she hasn't got time for one.<br/>
<br/>
She's a good girl, an overachiever.<br/>
<br/>
And if you and Chelsea play it right, when you go home tonight, <i>you</i> will be that good, thoughtful, overachieving girl.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You drive around town, distracted and dizzy, while waiting for Chelsea's reply. It doesn't come for nearly another hour, and it comes with an apology: <i>Omg so sorry boss was with kendra and gloria and totally forgot to check my dms. Can totly get Kim at my house got lots I can talk to  her abt. Is she our next dubelgagger &lt;sweat emoji&gt;&lt;grinning emoji&gt;<br/>
<br/>
Yes,</i> you confirm, and tell Chelsea to try setting it up so Kim is at her house around or after eight o'clock, by which time you should be sure of being clear of dinner and after-dinner clean-up at your house. You doubly and triply confirm that you have with you all the supplies and gear that you'll need.<br/>
<br/>
Supper is muted. Your little brother tries getting a rise out of you a couple of times, but you shrug him off. You're too preoccupied all through dinner with the fact that this will likely be the last time that you eat with, or even see, your family for a good long time—at least, if and until you decide to make a return to being yourself. You don't know why you wouldn't do that, but it gives you a premonition of homesickness. Of course, no one else at the table has any idea of what you're anticipating, so for them it's just a normal meal.<br/>
<br/>
But you were silent enough and thoughtful enough that your mother noticed. As you help her load the dishwasher and clean up the kitchen afterward, she mentions that you were very quiet at the dinner table. You try to shrug it off.<br/>
<br/>
"You have something on your mind?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Well," you correct yourself, "I have to out to meet someone in a little bit." You glance at the clock: it's a little after seven. "For school."<br/>
<br/>
"And you're thinking about that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you need any money?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" The offer surprises you. "No."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought if you were going out to a coffee shop or something—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm going over to someone's house." You hesitate. Your mom seems quite insistent on digging out what's on your mind. So you add, "I'm going over to Chelsea Cooper's house."<br/>
<br/>
Your mom frowns at the name, and her gaze goes distant. You explain: "She's the head cheerleader."<br/>
<br/>
"A cheerleader's house!" your mom exclaims, and looks impressed.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and I'm going to be totally out of place there."<br/>
<br/>
"But if it's for school—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's for school, but I'm going to be totally out of place there. There's gonna be some other girls there, I'm going to be way out of my league—"<br/>
<br/>
"There's no such thing as being 'out of your league', Will," she says. "Don't think that way. They're just classmates, and you're there for a school project. It's no different than being in class."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at her and wonder how long it's been since she's been in high school. She must have some kind of amnesia or something, to be able to forget how snobby everything can be at school.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Or—</i><br/>
<br/>
You flinch, but not until after you've had the thought. Though she's your mother, you still recognize that she's very pretty, and still in very decent shape. <i>Maybe she was one of the popular kids, and thought that because everything was easy and fun for her it was easy and fun for everyone else.</i><br/>
<br/>
But she's still looking at you, so you add, "And their boyfriends are going to be there and they're all on the basketball team." Again, you shrug. "So that's another reason I'm going to be totally out of place."<br/>
<br/>
"Well," she says, "just concentrate on doing the schoolwork. And Will—" She gives you a very direct look. "Try not to hold it against them."<br/>
<br/>
"Hold what against them?"<br/>
<br/>
"That they're not like you. Give them a chance to be friends."<br/>
<br/>
You can't keep from rolling your eyes, but you nod.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't waste time getting away after you've taken out the garbage, and by seven forty-five you're at Chelsea's house. Chelsea comes running down the stairs almost before Mrs. Cooper has a chance to let you in, and she grabs you by the hand to haul you upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, I'm so glad you're here," she says when she has you in her bedroom. She grabs you in a hug and presses her fact into your neck.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing." She looks up at you with a dreamy kind of smile. "Only Gordon and Steve were being total dickfaces this afternoon, tried telling me to keep you out of the loft."<br/>
<br/>
"You told them I've been up there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Gordon knows! You were up there with Chelsea when you brought him back! And Steve—"<br/>
<br/>
You're so struck by the way she just referred to herself in the third person that you don't even follow the rest of what she says. <i>Must be because I told her she's a doppelganger,</i> you muse. <i>She thinks of the real girl as 'Chelsea' and herself as ...</i> Well, you don't know what that would be.<br/>
<br/>
"Is Kim coming over?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. She's supposed to be here around eight-thirty. We're supposed to talk about some Spirit Club shit. Are you mad at me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Why would I be mad at you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Maybe because on account of the way I ghosted you in the library last period at school?"<br/>
<br/>
"You had to do that. You had to be in character."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea titters. "I know. I was awful. I was even thinking like Chelsea! <i>Who's that lame-ass and why's he gawking at me?</i> Then you got up and left and I thought <i>Shit, I made him mad.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I wasn't, I was just late to class."<br/>
<br/>
"I still think you must be mad at me."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
She puckers up her pillowy lips.<br/>
<br/>
"Because you haven't tried to kiss me yet."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you kill almost twenty minutes by holding each other tight and exploring each other's mouths. You start off standing, then move onto the bed. Chelsea almost sets off a creamy explosion in your shorts when she reaches down to fondle your burgeoning erection.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea always used to do that to Gordon," she calls out after you've retreated to the bathroom, where you hover near the sink with your trousers down while your throbbing peter decides whether to go all the way or go back to sleep. "It always used to piss him because she'd get him all stirred up, then wouldn't suck him off. 'But we're up here in my bedroom'," she mewls. "That's what she used to say. 'You can't keep quiet and then my mom will know what we're up to'. Do you think you could keep quiet, boss? Because I'd love to try—"<br/>
<br/>
She's interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up outside. "Oh God, she's here!" Chelsea squeaks, and she's peering through the curtain when you look outside the bathroom. "How is this gonna work?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just bring her up here," you order as you zip yourself up. Fortunately, Kim's arrival is the boner-killer you were striving for. "Get her to sit in the chair at your desk and—"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea rushes out the door while you start unpacking your bag on the bed: mask, sealant, paste, a baggie with a clip of your hair in it, a lighter and a paint brush. You rub sweaty palms against each other as you pace the floor.<br/>
<br/>
Footsteps in the hall herald the arrival of your victim. Chelsea enters, beaming at you, and Kim comes in after. It's like a punch to the gut to look her in the face as she smiles at you. <i>I'm really going to do this,</i> you think. <i>At least, I guess I—</i><br/>
<br/>
"I asked Will out here," Chelsea is saying, "because he seems like the average sort of Westside student who—"<br/>
<br/>
But, moving as though in a dream, you've already snatched the mask off the bed and are advancing on Kim. She only has time to give a little start before you've wrapped one arm around her torso as with the other you push the mask onto her face.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113553131
author_id: seuzz
title: Doppelgangers R Us
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Kim Walsh is a small slip of a girl, so you weren't ready to discover just how heavy a person could be. Her knees buckle and she folds up in your arm, dragging you down, and bonelessly sprawling atop you when you hit the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus!" Chelsea squeals, and she springs over to slam the door shut. You scramble out from under Kim, your breath coming in quick gulps as you fight to push your heart back down inside your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"My God, boss, you didn't even give me a chance to get her over to the chair!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I just decided to go in." Your eye bulge as you stare at Kim, who lies in a twisted pile of limbs. She's so twisted up in fact that you worry her back and neck are broken.<br/>
<br/>
She seems to be hale and whole, though, when you untangle and straighten her out on the floor. She's a dead weight, so you leave her there instead of moving her onto the bed. You wipe your sweaty face as you try to figure out what comes next.<br/>
<br/>
You're copying Kim, and when the mask comes out you'll have to seal it up. But you'll also have to make a mask of yourself, and—<i>God damn it!</i>—that's the one thing you forgot to get done ahead of time.<br/>
<br/>
"Need me to get you a glass of water, boss?" Chelsea asks. "Some aspirin, maybe?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'll be fine. I just—" You sink onto Chelsea's bed and stare down at Kim.<br/>
<br/>
It'll take, like, ten minutes for the mask to copy Kim, and about as long for a mask to copy you. You'll be knocked out all that time, and so will Kim. If you start on that mask of yourself right away, there's a chance that you and Kim will wake back up at about the same time. That's not good enough, because you will still have to seal up her mask and coat it with that special paste and burn some of your hair into it and—<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you could get Chelsea to wake you up early. She could slap you awake. But it's a magical sleep, and if that didn't work—<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
In the end, you decide to wait until Kim's mask is finished, and then you'll seal it up and finish it and put it onto her. Once you've got the doppelganger in place, you'll have all the time you need for the rest of the transformation.<br/>
<br/>
So, a quarter-hour later:<br/>
<br/>
"Listen to me," you quietly and careful order the red-haired girl who is standing before you with a puzzled expression. "You have to do what I say. I'm your boss, and you have to obey me."<br/>
<br/>
"I know that," she says, and her frown deepens. "Except—"<br/>
<br/>
"What's your name?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kim," she answers. "Kim Walsh." Her puzzlement seems to deepen.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. Except you're not really Kim. Kim is gone." You're not sure why you're giving her the same kind of instructions as you gave Chelsea, but you figure that if it worked with Chelsea then you should keep a winning thing going. "<i>You're</i> Kim now."<br/>
<br/>
"Kim is gone?" The girl looks alarmed.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, she's ... someplace. You've taken her place. Come here."<br/>
<br/>
You pull her into Chelsea's bathroom and position her directly in front of the sink.<br/>
<br/>
"Look at your face," you tell her as you clasp her from behind, staring over her shoulder in the mirror. "That's Kim's face. You look just like Kim. So you're replacing her, and you'll do everything she does, but you'll also do everything I order you to. Can you act like her? Do you know where she lives?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Kim says. But she's concentrating on her reflection, and lifts her hands to gingerly touch her cheeks. "I look just like her," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"And you can act just like her, can't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I—" She sucks in a breath. "Yes, I think I can."<br/>
<br/>
"You're a doppelganger, a clone, a dupl— a duplitron. So is Chelsea." Kim gives you a sharp look. "That's right. She's a duplicate I made, just like I made you. You both have to do what I say. We're making more duplicates, Kim. We're going to replace more people at school, with duplicates. <i>Lots</i> more people." Kim's eyes go wide, and she turns to look up into your face. "And you <i>want to help.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Kim stares at you a moment, then turns back to stare at the girl in the mirror. She strokes her own throat.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," she says. "I understand. Make more duplicates. More ... <i>things</i> ... like Chelsea. And me."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. You get it now." You squeeze her while looking into her reflection. "And you'll follow my orders, my plan."<br/>
<br/>
"Who do we start with?" The doubt and confusion have fallen from Kim's face.<br/>
<br/>
"We started with you. Bring me my backpack from out there." You gently propel her toward the door. "I have to get ready for the next part."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That next part is tedious and a little excruciating because of the hoops you have to go through. You start by locking yourself in the bathroom, stretching out on the floor, and putting a blank mask to your face. You wake some time later, groggy and claustrophobic on account of the mask weighing on your face and suffocating you. Next comes sealing its inner surface twice, then burning a little of your hair into it. <br/>
<br/>
The next step is a little better: you unlock the door and summon Kim to join you inside, where you order her to strip off all her clothes. You half expect her to blanch and get embarrassed, but she coolly complies without a murmur. Another little surprise is to find out what exactly she's wearing. What you thought was a black t-shirt turns out to be a full-body leotard she was wearing under her Levis and the loose, unbuttoned blouse. Once it's all off, she stands before you as a skinny girl with small breasts and translucent skin that blushes a pale blue beneath. You direct her to lay on the floor, and she watches you with grave eyes as you grasp her temple and pull while muttering the words prescribed by the book. You feel something tear beneath your palm, and then you are holding a mask. You set it on the floor beside the now-sleeping Kim.<br/>
<br/>
And now comes the part you've been quietly dreading. You pluck the other mask off the sink, and lay it gently onto Kim's face.<br/>
<br/>
The change is so fast that it's done before you even know what to watch for. Where Kim Walsh had lain, there is now stretched out a skinny, hairy boy with your face.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes open, and pop in a double-take when he sees you. He seems to catch his breath, and he swallows. "Whoa," he murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me your name."<br/>
<br/>
His eyebrows arch just the tiniest bit. "Will Prescott," he says. "At least," he adds, "that's what I want to say. But I guess I'm, um—" He gets a shifty look. "I guess I'm a doppelganger."<br/>
<br/>
You feel some relief, and help him up, though his hand in yours is loathsome, somehow. Once he's on his feet, you look sidelong at each other, and you know that his wary expression is the mirror of yours.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you tell me to, boss."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the plan?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes dart, but his mouth curls up into a slight grin. "Make more things like me. Make us— Make <i>you</i> the boss of the school."<br/>
<br/>
You pull your ball cap off and hand it to him. "Start getting dressed," you tell him as you kick off your shoes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You send him out to join Chelsea, then turn to the disassembled bits and pieces of Kim Walsh: her mask, her clothes, and her shoes. You fold them up into a neat pile and study them. A shiver rattles your frame, and it doesn't stop, leaving you shivering.<br/>
<br/>
You pick up the mask and study the inner surface. A name, composed of glowing blue letters, floats there just above the surface: KIMBERLEY SUSAN WALSH. You run your fingertips across the mask. <i>That's going to be me,</i> you think with a delicious shudder of anticipation.<br/>
<br/>
With a jerk of your limbs, you wheel and clamber into the cold bath tub, stretching out and settling in. You hold the mask over your face with both hands, and slowly lower it onto your face, closing your eyes and holding your breath as it settles there.<br/>
<br/>
Your body goes very stiff, as though paralyzed, and then the mask grows very heavy. It stifles you and presses on you until the front of your head caves in like an eggshell, and you feel it squeezing your brain into jelly ...<br/>
<br/>
And then you're awake. More than awake, you're alert. You lay very still, darting your eyes about. You're in a bathtub, laid out like a corpse in a sarcophagus. At first you feel nothing below the neck, and your limbs are numb. But you've only to will yourself to lift your hand, and all at once you are sitting up and levering yourself from the tub.<br/>
<br/>
You feel a slight curiosity about your situation—this is Chelsea Cooper's bathroom, you know, and you are naked—but you feel no fear. You will remember in a minute (you are sure) what's going on. Or someone will come in and tell you.<br/>
<br/>
You position yourself before the sink, studying yourself in the mirror. The expression on your pale face is very serious, and your hair trails limply in ringlets past your shoulders. You are very slim and your skin is so pale and translucent that there's a blue sheen beneath it. Your name is Kim Walsh, and—<br/>
<br/>
A slow grin creases your face.<br/>
<br/>
You are <i>not</i> Kim Walsh. You are her double. A duplicate, created to replace her.<br/>
<br/>
And you are more than that. You are the master of the magic that creates duplicates, and this face and body are just a shell you have inhabited as part of your plan.<br/>
<br/>
You pluck up the brassiere that lays atop the vanity near at hand. It's time to complete your disguise.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135531311
author_id: seuzz
title: The Manager
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You watch yourself in the mirror as you dress. Panties and then bra. The body stocking—a leftover from when Kim took a Dance class last year—and then jeans, the white blouse (which you leave unbuttoned) and the socks and the black Converse sneakers. You fluff out your hair and arrange it so that it looks carelessly tousled. After you've got the lines of your clothes straightened out, you flash yourself a cool, mirthless smirk, put out the light, and open the bathroom door.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea and Will are laying on the bed with their arms wrapped about each other, and they bolt upright when you enter the room. Will's mouth is smudged with lipstick, and Chelsea discreetly touches up her own lips as she and Will turn guilty expressions on you.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it looks like you two were having fun," you flatly observe.<br/>
<br/>
"You were in there a long time, boss," Will says. He gets to his feet with all the grace of a scarecrow trying to clamber off its pole. "We, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care. Just don't do it where Gordon will catch you."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to fix him?" Chelsea says. "Because Will told me—" she starts to add as she rubs his back.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, I'll get him fixed," you assure her. "Him and Steve both. They're on a list."<br/>
<br/>
"Good." Chelsea smirks. "Because once we've replaced them—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm on it. But you need to be patient, Chelsea." You take out your phone, which has texts piling up on it. "There's a lot of people on the list."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I can wait, boss. As long as—"<br/>
<br/>
You glance up from your phone as Chelsea falls silent. She's giving you a curious glance, then she turns the same glance onto Will. "Which of you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm the real boss, Chelsea," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I know that," she says. "Only this one—" She pulls Will into a hug, and bends her head to kiss him on the chest. "He reminds me of you."<br/>
<br/>
Will jumps, as though touched with a cattle prod, and Chelsea giggles.<br/>
<br/>
"Just don't do it at school," you warn them. "Remember who you're supposed to be, Chelsea. Same goes for you, Will."<br/>
<br/>
They both nod, and you look around for Kim's backpack—it's on the floor where she dropped it. You scoop it up and smile at the clones. "You should think about going home, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Think about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Go home. You've still got schoolwork."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, boss."<br/>
<br/>
You don't wait for him to move, but head out the door and down the stairs. "Goodbye, Mrs. Cooper!" you call into the living room. "Mr. Cooper!" Chelsea's dad only glances at you, but her mom leans over to wave a cheery goodbye to you. "Come back soon, Kim!" she yells.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Maybe I should think about replacing a whole family,</i> you reflect as you walk out to your car. <i>That way I have a house where I can do all my work without having to sneak around.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You back, pumpkin?" Kim's dad looks up from the sofa, where he's slouching in front of the TV. There are bags under his eyes. "You were gone awhile."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry. But Chelsea—" You roll your eyes. "She gets to talking and she doesn't know when to stop. You weren't waiting up for me, were you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, of course not. Just killing time until—" He points the remote at the TV, and switches it off. "I'm almost too tired to go to bed."<br/>
<br/>
"Here, I'll help you."<br/>
<br/>
You put out your hand, and he takes it. With a hard grunt he pushes himself to his feet, pretending to use you to haul himself upright when plainly he's doing it under his own power. "Don't stay up too late," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I won't. Don't you get up too early."<br/>
<br/>
"I never do. Always just early enough." He shuffles past you toward the kitchen. You watch him go, then turn down the hallway to the bedroom you've inherited from Kim.<br/>
<br/>
It's just Kim and her father—her mother died when she was little—in this tiny little house on the edge of a bad part of town. But it's neat and tidy, and the desk in the corner is clear. You drop the backpack on the bed and pull out what schoolwork Kim failed to finish before you replaced her. (It was her plan to drive to the city library after getting through with Chelsea.) There's not much, just some Spanish exercises, and that doesn't take long. But the lights in the house are out when you step out to brush your teeth in the hall bathroom and slip in Kim's nighttime retainer. Once in bed, you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
It was easy and natural dealing with Kim's father—you only had to relax and let the instincts that you copied from her take over. Still, you had taken a moment on the patio, drawing a deep breath, before entering the house as you reminded yourself who you needed to be. There is an unreality to this life-but-not-life you have picked up, a sharp sense that <i>I am Kim but I am not Kim.</i> Even as you talked so warmly and familiarly to Kim's dad, you felt that you were talking to a stranger who had mistaken you for someone else.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Am I going to fall asleep?</i> you wonder after a quarter-hour or so has ticked by. <i>Do magical doppelgangers sleep? Or do they just pretend, like they pretend everything else?</i> You close your eyes and slow your breathing, mimicking the appearance of having fallen into a slumber, but your mind still races as you review your plans.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I have to fix Gordon and Steve, for Will's sake if for no other. And once I've replaced them, I'll own the gym loft. That's what Chelsea was going to say, I'm sure. We'll have our own secret headquarters right there at school. Gordon and Steve will be able to grab anyone I order them to, and haul them up to the loft, where we can replace them with a duplicate.<br/>
<br/>
We'll start with Kelsey,</i> you mumble to yourself, and snuggle a little further down inside the soft, warm bed. <i>Kelsey and Anthony Kirk. That'll be enough to start. And we won't have to replace everyone at the school. Just the most important ones. Maybe we should replace all the members of a school club, so we have another place, not just the fuck room, to meet and lay out plans. Maybe the Spirit Club. Kim and Chelsea are already members. So are Catherine Muskov, and Cindy Vredenburg. We could add some other members. Jack Li, for instance. I tried talking him into joining last year, but he ...</i><br/>
<br/>
Your thoughts become very fuzzy and indistinct. When next you are aware of them, it's morning, and your phone is going off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Have you talked to Prianna about the Just Desserts fundraiser?</i> That's what Kelsey wants to know. And, Kelsey being Kelsey, she's made sure it's the first order of business of your day by texting you at five-thirty in the morning.<br/>
<br/>
You ignore it to shower and dress first. For your first day as "Kim Walsh" you choose a short skirt, black leggings, a dark t-shirt, and the jeans jacket that her older brother passed down to her when he outgrew it. Mr. Walsh nurses a coffee and reads a tablet while you make eggs and toast for the both of you. "Do you always get texts this early?" he asks as you text and eat at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
"Sometimes. Kelsey—" You sigh. "She gets ideas in the middle of the night."<br/>
<br/>
"Is she afraid she'll forget them?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But it's like she's afraid you'll forget them if she doesn't remind you every hour or so."<br/>
<br/>
You get another text on your way to school, so you have to pop your head into the cafeteria, where the meal-plan students are taking their breakfasts. Molly Shaw is on the lookout for you, and she hurries up when she sees you. "I <i>have</i> to take Friday off," she moans at you.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what you told me."<br/>
<br/>
"But Mr. Pauls—"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't just take off from work, Molly."<br/>
<br/>
"But my mom's getting her pupils dilated, and I have to drive her! Can't you talk to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't work there anymore, Molly."<br/>
<br/>
"But he respects you! He hired me because you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Can you get someone else to cover for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"All the other girls are being putzes!"<br/>
<br/>
You should have sighed first, to make it seem more "human," but you plunge straight to the next obvious question. "What time's your mom's appointment?"<br/>
<br/>
"Four?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'll find someone else to drive her, and if I can't, I'll do it."<br/>
<br/>
Molly gasps, and grabs you in a hug. "Oh my God, Kim! That's so—!"<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later, as you're on your way to your locker: "Yo, Kimster! Kimmy-Kim-Kim!" You turn at the shout, and Zion Barber, the slinky president of the junior class, comes sliding up. "You gotta do something about your friend Amanda."<br/>
<br/>
"What's she done now?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what she said to her, but she said something to Christine, and now my girlfriend's in the bathroom bawling her head off."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll go talk to her."<br/>
<br/>
"Amanda?"<br/>
<br/>
"Christine. Nothing I say will fix Amanda."<br/>
<br/>
<i>End of class, first period:</i> Mrs. Hart stops you as you leave. "You're in the mentoring club, aren't you, Kim?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes ma'am."<br/>
<br/>
She sighs. "Well, I don't want to put too much on your shoulders, but do you think you could find Joshua Call, and tell him that he needs to start coming to class, or I'm going to have to flunk him."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, Mrs. Hart."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You had no idea Kim's life was so busy, and you only get through it by going onto autopilot. <i>There's too much to manage. What will it be like when I try managing a lot of doppelgangers as well?</i><br/>
<br/>
Then, at lunch, you have a brainwave. What if, instead of managing all the fakes, as you've been planning, you shared the magic with some other people, and each of you was responsible only for managing a handful of fakes?<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111355313111
author_id: seuzz
title: Corporate Strategies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The words, said directly into your ear, startle you out of your daze. "You look like you're a million miles away," says Anthony Kirk. His eyebrows twitch over a bemused smile.<br/>
<br/>
Across the cafeteria table, Amanda Ferguson glances up from her phone. "Kim's just trying to come up for new reasons for how come she can never help anyone."<br/>
<br/>
Anthony makes no reply, and neither do you. It wouldn't do any good. Whatever you retorted, Amanda would just top it with something even nastier. You bend back over your food and resume eating.<br/>
<br/>
At least Kelsey just froze you out when you told her that Brianna Kirschke wasn't replying to your texts, and that you hadn't been able to catch her in any of her classes. But Amanda, who no doubt got an earful from Kelsey about how you "couldn't do your job," decided to say something.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a lot of pressure that comes with being "Kim Walsh." She's the student council president, she serves in a couple of different clubs, she mentors students in the junior and sophomore classes, and she's an unofficial social worker for low-income students and those "at risk" of failing their classes.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you're really sharing these worries. You are only inhabiting this form until you can slip into something easier and lower profile. But it has given you a vivid premonition of what it might be like managing a school of doppelgangers, all of them looking to you for direction.<br/>
<br/>
Doppel-Steve Patterson: <i>Should I just give Ioeger a wedgie, or can I do something to his kidneys?</i><br/>
<br/>
Doppel-James Lamont: <i>Carson is planning to break into the fuck room. Do you want me to talk him out of it, or leave it to</i>—air quotes—<i>Gordon and Steve to break his face?</i><br/>
<br/>
Doppel-Kelsey Blankenship: <i>Should I trade Karl in for one of the football players?</i><br/>
<br/>
Doppel-Tim Gerard: <i>I sucked off Adrian Semple like you ordered me to, but Charles caught us, and now none of his friends will talk to me.</i><br/>
<br/>
But what if you showed some other people the magic, got them in on this scheme? Oh, you wouldn't reveal who you really are. You'd continue to run things from the shadows. And you'd dominate your new clique, keeping control of the book and the magic, and running the school through them. Each of them (and you) would have, say, half-a-dozen to a dozen doppelgangers to run and manage, and you'd manage the lot by managing the half-dozen people you recruited.<br/>
<br/>
Kind of like a corporation, with you as president!<br/>
<br/>
Yes, the more you think of it, the more you like it, and as lunch ends you've determined to start laying the groundwork for it.<br/>
<br/>
And the first step—it seems clear to you—is to find an alias who has lots of friends down in the "coach class" section of the school, and who would be eager to get control of some of the people up at the top.<br/>
<br/>
Friends who, after you teased them with the control of a half-dozen doppelgangers, would be eager to swap lives with one of them, as you have done.<br/>
<br/>
But those are future plans. Right now, you've got some more ordinary business to take care of.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You make a beeline for Mr. Walberg's classroom as soon as you've finished eating. The room is empty, and the teacher, who is reading a paperback at his desk, greets you with a hearty, "H'lo, Kim." You smile back, and like a computer readout, Kim's opinion of Mr. Walberg scrolls across the front of your brain: <i>Gruff like a grizzly, but he's really a teddy bear, and he cares so much about his job.</i><br/>
<br/>
You chat lightly with him about this and that—it's clear he dotes on Kim—until Victoria Rodriguez, puffing like a buffalo, comes blowing into the room. She does a double-take when she sees you.<br/>
<br/>
Victoria is a hefty girl with a big butt and thighs like watermelons. She's also got a massive bust, which today (as most days) is wallowing around inside a loose-fit short-sleeve tee with a low-cut neckline. Her heft above and below <i>technically</i> gives her an hourglass figure, but she reminds Kim of the dancehall girls in the old Westerns that her dad likes to watch: girls with round faces who clearly had to be stitched inside of a corset in order to have a shape. Victoria also has lusciously dark hair that drapes past her shoulders and over her boobs.<br/>
<br/>
She's got a guilty look about her, probably (you'd guess) because she hasn't studied for the tutoring session she's got coming up. It's in Spanish, no less. That's right: Kim Walsh, who looks like her ancestors came from Glasgow, is tutoring <i>Victoria Rodriguez</i> in second-year Spanish.<br/>
<br/>
You start by flipping on a smile and asking if she's still on for Friday after school. With an embarrassed squeak, she says that she is. Then you hit her with your request. "Molly Shaw needs a favor. Her mom needs a ride to and from the optometrist, but Molly's got work. It's the afternoon we're supposed to have our tutoring session. So before we have that, could you give her mom a ride?"<br/>
<br/>
Victoria gives you a look like <i>OMG, r u rly asking ur not serius.</i> "What's wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you get someone else to do it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um ..."<br/>
<br/>
"I though you and Molly were friends."<br/>
<br/>
She grimaces in embarrassment. "Um, not really. Not anymore."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you ask one of her other friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Like, Faith? Or Cassie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I guess I can do that."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, Kim."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's alright. You're not the first one to turn me down," you lie. Again, you flick a smile at her. Then with a little wave at Mr. Walberg you hurry on to your own sixth-period class.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't know where to find Faith Becker, but you do know where to find Cassie Harper eighth period, and your intuition is that sweet, daffy Cassie would drop anything to help a friend. (And why didn't Molly just ask one of her friends if they could give her mom a ride? Probably because it didn't occur to her; and besides, she's used to letting Kim be her problem-solver.) As it happens, Cassie is in the same Astronomy class as Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
He isn't there yet, but Cassie is when you swing by. She could be Kim's cousin, you suppose. Like Kim, she's a small, slim, pale red-head. But her hair is bright, almost orange, and huge freckles splotch her face. Her mouth, which is always open (she's a chatterbot), is wide and full of teeth, and she's always got a hungry look in her bright eyes.<br/>
<br/>
She wants to talk about Molly and her work when you broach the subject, but you brush her aside to ask if <i>she</i> could take Mrs. Shaw to the optometrist while Molly is at work.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Me?</i>" Cassie squeals. "Oh, well I guess so. Sure! But why didn't she ask me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess it didn't occur to her. I told her I'd find a ride for her mom—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God, Kim, that's so sweet of you! Sure I can do it! I know Mrs. Shaw, I'm only over at her house, like, sixteen hours a day it seems like! God, she's probably sick of the sight and sound of me, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's great, Cassie, thanks. Friday afternoon, right after school."<br/>
<br/>
"You'll probably have to text me a reminder. Do you have my number or—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think you can ask Molly to remind you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Right. Derp!" Cassie pokes herself in the temple and crosses her eyes. You make your escape before she can start yapping at you some more.<br/>
<br/>
Cassie is a sweetheart, but you were uneasy talking to her. There was something in the background that bothered you, something that made you slightly afraid.<br/>
<br/>
It's when you almost bump into Will in the doorway that you realize what it is.<br/>
<br/>
Cassie Harper (Kim's memories tell you) has a crush on him. You pause just outside the classroom to process this realization.<br/>
<br/>
But, somehow, it does nothing to you. It merely gets filed away under the neutral heading: <i>Interesting.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The last major errand is to intercept Brianna Kirschke after class, to pitch her Kelsey Blankenship's idea for a school fundraiser: Brianna's family owns a high-end bakery, and Kelsey thinks they should donate a batch of expensive desserts that the student council could sell for a massive profit. Brianna, as you could have predicted, maintains a poker face, and when you're done you answer on her behalf: "Your folks are going to say 'No', aren't they? That's okay, you don't even have to ask them, I'll tell Kelsey that I asked you and you asked your mom, and the answer came back 'No'."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll ask 'em anyway," Brianna says, but she sounds really unenthusiastic.<br/>
<br/>
"What a freaking <i>bitch!</i>" exclaims Leah Simmons, who has been listening to this with a jaw hanging open with astonishment. "Where the fuck does Kelsey get off—?"<br/>
<br/>
There follows a brittle, snippy conversation in which you defend Kelsey without really defending her (because her suggestion really was indefensible) while Leah gets more and more mad on Brianna's behalf. "I get it, Leah," you tell her, "and I don't really disagree." Leah snorts.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The day's events go into a stewpot of unconscious thought, and later that night, when you return to the question of <i>Where do I find my co-conspirators?</i> you discover you've got several possibilities.<br/>
<br/>
But do you recruit these subordinates first? Or do you make a few more substitutes of your own first, building up a small gang, so you can demonstrate to your colleagues-to-be the advantages to be had from replacing some key members of the student body with docile duplicates?<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113553131111
author_id: seuzz
title: Start by recruiting partners
chapter_content:
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path: 1131221113553131112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Battle Plan Begins
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You try to picture explaining this magic stuff to a potential partner, and come up blank. It's all so incredible. There's only one way you could convince someone—by showing it.<br/>
<br/>
What you need (you decide) is a bold demonstration of the magic's reality. Something like a gang of doppelgangers under your control. And not just two of them, but a half-dozen incompatible personalities all obeying you, because they are all fakes that you made and that you control.<br/>
<br/>
So you next bend your thoughts toward who else to duplicate and replace.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So preoccupied are you that you wake the next morning while it is still dark—not even four o'clock yet, when you check your phone. You lay in bed for a few minutes, trying to will yourself to sleep, but soon give up. You are wide awake and alert, as though waiting for some order to come.<br/>
<br/>
It does come (you know not from where) a few minutes later, and you quietly rise in answer to its prompt, to dress and pack up books for school. Then you steal out of the house after leaving a note for Kim's dad, telling him that you are making an early start on the day.<br/>
<br/>
When you shifted into Kim's mask you took the key to the community center basement with you, and that's where you go now. The old school looms in the darkness like an ancient and moldering monolith, and there is a soft mist about it. It feels even more like breaking and entering than usual as you let yourself in, but you feel no guilt or fear. You hardly feel anything, only a kind of urgency.<br/>
<br/>
All your supplies are laid out where you left them, and with a kind of mechanical implacability you use the light on Kim's phone to find the book and the carving implements, then sit down to scratch out the runes necessary to finish a metallic strip. All of your concentration goes into this task, so that you have no attention for anything else, not even a sense of how tiresome the work is. Every once in a while you surface from your rigid fascination to reflect with vague puzzlement on the fact that you are so intent on it. The closest analogue you can comprehend is the one time last year you got really stoned with Keith Tilley, and wound up staring for what seemed like hours into an atlas, burning the contours of the fjords of Norway into your brain with no regard for anything else. So it is with the runes that emerge with much work from your small, repetitive chiseling at the metal.<br/>
<br/>
You are stiff when lift your head from the work, and you stretch to force the kinks out. But you feel only a vague sense of satisfaction as you glue the new strip to the inner surface of a blank but polished mask. A glance at the phone shows that it is now nearly seven-thirty. <i>I should get something to eat,</i> you tell yourself, but it's less because you're hungry than because you know it's something you should do—it's as if gear in your head was turned by a counterweight, to lift and present the thought, <i>Get breakfast.</i> The sun isn't up yet but the sky is rapidly lightening as you pack the newly made mask and some of that enslaving goop into your bag, and lock up the basement.<br/>
<br/>
Then, as you are parking in front of Salvation Donuts: <br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Jesus!</i> you exclaim to yourself with a jolt, as something like short, sharp earthquake passes through you. <i>Why, hello there, Kim,</i> you tell yourself, for a vivid sense of the girl's presence and personality floods back. <i>And Will. Nice to see you back too!</i> You are a little shaky (and definitely puzzled) as you get out and go into the shop, but you smile brightly at Ms. Murray, and chat with her about the health of her parents, and express satisfaction that they are still hale and full of vinegar and the spirit of the Lord. But in the back of the mind you are still wondering how you managed to mislay your sense of self—and every thought and quiver of emotion that goes with yourself and with Kim—during the night and morning.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a little after eight when you get to school, and the parking lot is already filling up. You are also late answering Chelsea's request to meet and discuss the latest crisis.<br/>
<br/>
She's in the gym, and more specifically in the loft. You consider asking her to come down, but decide to go up. Maybe it's important enough that she wants to keep out of sight.<br/>
<br/>
You have to run past the basketball team to get up to her, though. You keep your face averted, and the boys all seem preoccupied with running drills while Gordon and Steve shout at them, but you know that some must be watching as you turn the corner to the stairs leading to the infamous "fuck room" in the rafters above.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea looks up from her phone with a startled expression as you walk in, then she gasps with relief. "Oh, thank God!" she exclaims. "Boss! Have you figured out what to do about Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I— Not yet." This is a doppelganger, but still you are shy about admitting that you haven't even thought about it. "What's wrong, what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"We had a fight, a real humdinger! Gordon thinks I've been sneaking Will up here."<br/>
<br/>
"He what?" You have to take a moment to process this. "Well, I know he seems to be obsessed with ... Will ... lately."<br/>
<br/>
"Jealous, even, it seems like! I tried telling him, you know, pff! As if! Why would I be into a runty little guy like Will Prescott?" She catches herself, then groans. "Except I am. It was all so much easier when I could just order the big lummox to mind his own business! Then I wouldn't have to sneak around, and Will and I could—"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait. You've been <i>sneaking around</i> with ... Will?"<br/>
<br/>
She gets a shifty look, then sighs. "Okay, yes. That's how come we had that fight. Gordon must'a seen Will driving off last night as he was driving up. My little scruff-monster barely got away in time!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus. Chelsea." You pinch the bridge of your nose.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, can you do something about him? I thought you were—!"<br/>
<br/>
She shuts up at the sound of creaking stairs, and you both turn as the door opens and a flushed and steaming Steve Patterson comes sweeping in. He runs a cold glance over you, and says, "Christ, Chels, are you using this place as your office now?" He snatches a pair of jeans from inside a box just inside the door. "Not that you aren't welcome up here any time, Kim," he says with a fast wink. "But why waste time with a dyke like Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea glares murder at the door after he's gone. "And can we please do something about <i>him, too?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That incident reminds you that had plans to secure the loft as a kind of on-site base, but it also reminds you that it is rather public. You can't think of a more secure base on school property, though, which leads you in a roundabout way to consider getting yourself a secure <i>off-</i>campus base instead. And not the elementary school, which is inconveniently far and might get you in trouble if you get caught there.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Home,</i> you think with a start. <i>Or the motel.</i> The thought should horrify you—duplicating and replacing Kim's father—but you entertain it almost as a mathematical proposition. It does seem like a remarkably elegant solution.<br/>
<br/>
You're still concentrating on Chelsea's request when you go into the school office for your third-period study hall. It's one of the perks of being student council president that you can use the office conference room to study, and you're working on some Spanish when your name is softly called. Mr. Staufford, one of the assistant principals, beckons you from the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
"I've got a problem I want to talk to you about, Kim," he says as you and he settle into his cramped office. (It's small enough that he can lean over to brush the door closed with his fingertips.) "This is going to be awkward for both of us." He steeples his fingers under his nose, and fixes you with a piercing look. "How much do you know about all the drug dealing that goes on in this school?"<br/>
<br/>
Normally, Kim would answer by telling him <i>Hardly anything,</i> which is true. It's a seamy and hard-cornered side of the school she flinches from looking at. And it's not like the administration seems to care. But this is Mr. Staufford asking, and he's the one administrator who is probably hard-assed enough to try tackling it. So you ask why he wants to know. He answers by asking if you know anyone who <i>would</i> be able to give him a detailed report on how much stuff gets sold, and by who. You temporize, asking if you can get back to him after thinking about it. He glowers, but lets it go with that, and sends you back to your books.<br/>
<br/>
But he's also given you another thing to think about: a potential source of income.<br/>
<br/>
Also (and why didn't you see this before?): Control of a teacher or administrator would make it a lot easier to seed the school with doppelgangers.<br/>
<br/>
But all these thoughts go out the window when Marc Garner grabs you in the hallway as you're going to sixth period. "I'm staying after school to talk to Chelsea," he tells you in a very sober tone. "Can you come along for moral support?"<br/>
<br/>
You've got a mask with you, and you are being given the perfect chance to replace Marc Garner—the hyper-popular captain of the soccer team—with a doppelganger.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135531311121
author_id: seuzz
title: Thanks Aloft
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"When are you going to see Chelsea?" you ask Marc.<br/>
<br/>
"After school. She hangs out in the gym, doesn't she? I was going to go look for her then."<br/>
<br/>
"What about?"<br/>
<br/>
Marc glances around. The hallway is crowded with people squeezing past, but he doesn't lower his voice when he answers. "Cheerleader stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Marc!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Talk to <i>me</i> before you talk to Chelsea!"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," he says, but he sounds dubious. "When can you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tonight. Call me."<br/>
<br/>
"I want to talk to her—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Is it really a rush? What's it about, specifically?"<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces. "Okay, I'll call you tonight, around— <i>Fuck!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"This is Friday, I got a date! I'm going out with Hannah!"<br/>
<br/>
You smirk at him in a way that makes him blush, and poke him in his hard, taut stomach. "That's gotta be more fun than talking to me about Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"That's why I wanna get it over with!"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't talk to Chelsea until you talk to me, or you're going to make whatever it is worse. So call me this weekend."<br/>
<br/>
He writhes in place. "I'm gonna be doing stuff all this weekend, probably! Oh, Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
A voice sounds behind him—"Marc!"—and he squawks and wheels as his sister, Eva, materializes at his side. "Are you bothering Kim?" she demands.<br/>
<br/>
"No! I'm going! I guess I'll see you and Jess after school after all." He shoots you a beady-eyed glance, then dives into the coagulated hallway.<br/>
<br/>
You follow Eva into the room, where you share AP English IV. "Did you just save him from doing something stupid?" she asks you in a suspicion-laden voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I saved him from doing something," you reply, "but I don't know if it was stupid."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You certainly saved Marc from one stupid choice—putting himself in line to being immediately replaced by a doppelganger. But that's only because you suspect you can and will replace him later. For now you've got more strategic choices to make, and by the time the final bell has rung, you have made them.<br/>
<br/>
You need a secure place on campus, and the loft—which is open to fewer people than you can count on one hand—is the most secure site of all. True, an off-campus site would be even more secure, but you'll trade a little security for the greater convenience.<br/>
<br/>
As for getting yourself an income, that, like Marc Garner, is an advantage to be grabbed later. And with an on-site location like the loft, and with the duplicates you have already made (Chelsea and Kim), you doubt a teacher or administrator as an ally would make much of a difference.<br/>
<br/>
But that still leaves you the question of how to secure the loft. You know that Gordon Black and Steve Patterson can get in. Is there anybody else? You send Chelsea a text, asking. Her answer comes quickly and briefly: Jason Lynch also has a key to the place.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That's too bad,</i> you reflect to yourself. You want a diverse set of doppelgangers, and not too many, and replacing Gordon, Steve, and Jason would be no part of any plan. You ask if there's a chance of kicking either Steve or Jason or both from the loft. Her reply this time is much longer in the coming, and it's a lengthy one. The gist is that Steve is Gordon's best friend and Gordon would never cut Steve from the loft. Jason's position sounds more iffy, as Steve and Chelsea both hate him, but Gordon has a weird soft spot for him.<br/>
<br/>
You chew on this while working in the office conference room after school, and decide that things could probably be arranged such that Jason loses his access. As for Gordon and Steve, both of them need to be controlled, but there's nothing to say that <i>you</i> need to control both of them—one of them you could give to a confederate once you start recruiting partners. So the question is, which of the two basketball players should you replace now?<br/>
<br/>
Replacing Gordon would put him back under your thumb, and with the school's power couple (him and Chelsea) as your minions you would be well on your way to dominating it. Also, the two of them could coordinate to keep Steve away from the loft when you need it, by claiming that they need to use it for their own private time.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, if you replaced Steve you could probably double the amount of access you could get. Chelsea could keep Gordon out by being affectionate with him elsewhere, and Steve (you presume) could claim his own "private time" when he wants to use it.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111355313111212
author_id: seuzz
title: Three-Point Shot
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You are brought sharply back to reality by voices from the outer office, and look at the time to see to your surprise that it is nearly five o'clock. And when you look down at your work—notes and jottings copied from Wikipedia for a presentation you need to do in Speech—you find you have no memory of making them. It was as though you were entirely on automatic. Preoccupied with this oddity, you hardly notice as you pack up your laptop and things.<br/>
<br/>
Out in the now-empty school corridors, you text Chelsea, telling her that you want her and Gordon to clear out so that you can get to Steve with no one else around. It surprises you a little when you send this, for you've no memory of deciding that Steve is your preferred choice. It must have been a subconscious decision.<br/>
<br/>
You go to Kim's locker to change out books, then into a girls' restroom to freshen up from the day. But there's still been no reply from Chelsea by the time you are done, and you end up loitering on the quad between the gym and the theater wing, and are still loitering there after the rest of the boys' basketball squad, with much chortling and jostling, has left the gym and disappeared toward the student parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
Finally Chelsea does reply: <i>Gordon being butt wants to stay wi steve. Wat do?</i><br/>
<br/>
You ponder this, then ask where she is. <i>W guys n loft.</i> You detach yourself from the wall you'd been leaning against, texting. <i>On way up follow my lead,</i> as you make your way into the gym.<br/>
<br/>
A voice calls "Come in" in answer to your knock. Inside, Chelsea, looking blown and vexed, is glowering at her boyfriend, who is glaring sullenly back at her. On the other side of the loft, perched on a wooden crate, a very cool Steve Patterson swings one leg and nurses a beer. His eye falls briefly on you, then returns to the couple. There's a faint curve of contempt on his upper lip.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Chelsea," you say, pretending embarrassment. "I got that, uh, homework you asked me to get for you." You look around, and hurry over to a crate closer to Patterson than to Chelsea, atop which you set and unzip your bag. You search through and pull out a couple of random sheets of paper, which you fold up and take over to Chelsea. She glances at them, says, "Thanks, Kim," and returns to haranguing Gordon about why he'd rather spend his Friday night up in the loft with Steve than with her. You return to pick up your bag.<br/>
<br/>
You feel Patterson's eye on you, and instead of leaving after zipping up your bag, you sidle up to him. "I've got something I wanted to talk to you about," you murmur, and cast a distressed glance back at Chelsea and Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Patterson studies you with a very cool and thoughtful gaze.<br/>
<br/>
You pluck at a long ringlet that has fallen past your shoulder, and wind it up about your finger. "It's about Scott Frazier." That's one of the basketball players.<br/>
<br/>
"Frazier? What about him?"<br/>
<br/>
You suck in a deep breath and look everywhere but into Patterson's face.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's taking a Spanish class, but, um ... Ms. Martinez asked me— She wants to know, and she asked me to ask you or Gordon if—" You glance back again at Gordon and Chelsea. "Look, are you busy tonight? Right now?" You look up into Patterson's face with a beating heart. "Can we ... go get something to eat? Something fast, I mean? And talk about it?"<br/>
<br/>
His expression doesn't change, even as he coolly appraises you. You return his unblinking stare with an unblinking one of your own. Your finger goes back to that ringlet, to play with it some more.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe that's what does the trick. His eyes crinkle up a little, and the faintest smile comes to his lips.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Gordon!" he shouts in a voice that makes you jump. "Chelsea wants to do something with you. Don't be a moron about it, okay? I can take care of myself, I don't need you holding my— hand."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon frowns like a thundercloud at him, then his eye goes to you. You feel a brush of fingertips settling on your shoulder: Steve's.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon blinks, then turns away. "Sure, man, you do you," he growls, and puts his head down as he heads for the door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Patterson doesn't waste any time getting you and himself outside. When he asks where you want to go, you tell him he can decide, that you'll just get a ride with him and he can bring you back up to the school afterward. He nods, but you can sense the smirk he's hiding.<br/>
<br/>
During the drive you quickly dispatch the bullshit story you invented to break the ice, telling him that Scott's grades aren't that good in Spanish, and Ms. Martinez wants to know if that would cause a problem for Scott's ability to play on the team. Patterson coolly informs you that it wouldn't unless it affected Scott's overall GPA, and that even if it did, Scott's loss to the team would be no big deal.<br/>
<br/>
You were expecting him to take you to a fast food place, but he surprises you with an unusual choice: the cafe inside Canopies Food. That's a "natural foods" grocery store, and its cafe only serves vegetarian. When you express surprise at this choice, Steve replies that he can eat vegetarian no problem, and thought that you might prefer it. You tell him you don't <i>prefer</i> it, but you do like it.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, now I feel guilty for dragging you away," you mutter after ordering yourself a chickpea salad. "We got the business taken care of, and now you're stuck here with me."<br/>
<br/>
Irritation shows on Steve's face. "Why do you say that?" he demands. "'Stuck with'. You think I don't want to be here with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you only wanted to talk about Scott and Spanish—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a flip about Scott and Spanish." He leans back and sideways in his chair, lounging like a tiger relaxing in the bush. "Why do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I saw a chance to help—"<br/>
<br/>
"You do too much helping, Kim, from what I see."<br/>
<br/>
"I like to help!"<br/>
<br/>
"I get that. I'm not saying you shouldn't. You're good at it, I hear. Yeah, I hear you're <i>great.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not 'great'," you mumble, blushing.<br/>
<br/>
He snorts. "Fine, then you're not great," he says. "You'd know best. I guess everyone's been lying when they tell me about you. Maybe you suck."<br/>
<br/>
Your blush turns into a flush. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a very direct look. "Do you like people talking shit about you, Kim? Do you want <i>me</i> to talk shit about you, in front of you, and everyone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well ... No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Then why would you talk shit about yourself? You think I enjoy it? You think I want to talk shit about you, so you're going to jump in and talk shit about yourself too? Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
You blink at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Stand on your accomplishments, Kim," Steve says. "You'd look good there." He searches your face. "If you hide yourself under your accomplishments, how's a guy ever going to find you? He might want to. Did you ever think of that?"<br/>
<br/>
You blush from the roots of your hair to the tips of your toes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's like that all through dinner. Confident without swaggering. Strong without being overbearing. Cool but never cold. He asks about what you do for student council, and about your family, and about the state of the Donna, about which he seems surprisingly knowledgeable and sympathetic. <i>It's a beautiful old motor court,</i> he tells you. <i>I hate to think of it being trashed.</i><br/>
<br/>
Before dinner is over, he is nursing your hand and looking deeply into your eyes. Afterward, he hangs his arm on your shoulder as he leads you back to the car, and though he plays music instead of talking on the drive back to the school, he is constantly turning to shoot you smiles. He parks by the gym, and asks if you're really just going to go home and watch a movie, as you said you probably were going to do. "We got Wifi up here," he says, "and my laptop. We could watch anything you want. Together." Of course, you agree to go up with him.<br/>
<br/>
Dusk is falling when you enter the loft, and you stand in the shadows, quietly opening your bag as Steve sets up the laptop. When it's ready he lowers himself with a grunt to one of the old gym mats that's set up in the middle of the loft floor, and gestures you over. "You want a beer?" he asks, and reaches for the dorm refrigerator.<br/>
<br/>
You push the laptop away, and surprise him by settling onto him, straddling his lap.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you smirk at him. "But first, I want <i>you!</i>" <br/>
<br/>
He has no time to react before you shove the mask into his face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You are Number Three," you tell the doppelganger in a voice that comes from somewhere inside you. "You are replacing Steve Patterson. That is why I have given you his face and form and memories. His personality, too, but only when others are around. When it's just you and me, like now, you are Number Three."<br/>
<br/>
"I understand," Steve's duplicate says. His gaze, as he studies himself in the mirror in the corner of the loft, is as flat and open and frigid as the Siberian tundra. "What am I supposed to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing special for now. I'll have orders for you eventually. For now, take Steve Patterson's place, and make sure no one realizes that <i>you</i> aren't <i>him.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
The doppelganger turns to stare at you. Looking into his face is like being hit with an Arctic gale.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113553131112121
author_id: seuzz
title: Helping Him Helping You
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The loft is lost in shadows as dusk has deepened, but you can make out the form of Number Three—the doppelganger you have given the face and form of Steve Patterson—well enough. You are standing in the midst of the loft, facing each other, as you more fully explain the things to come.<br/>
<br/>
"I got rid of Steve and put you in his place because I want control of this loft," you tell him. "One of your jobs is to make sure it is clear when we need to use it, and to bring people up here when we're ready to replace them. We're going to be duplicating and replacing a lot more people at Westside, and here is where we'll be doing a lot of it."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a good spot for it," he says, glancing around. "Except there's one problem, boss. Gordon and Chelsea and Jason Lynch are up here a lot."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry about Chelsea. She is one of us already." The revelation doesn't seem to startle the doppelganger. "She is Number One. I am Number Two. You are Number Three. There will be more."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because that is what we want, Number Three. Both of us, all of us. We want to replace key people at the high school with ... things like us."<br/>
<br/>
"Does that include Gordon and Jason?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate. "I haven't decided yet. For now, when we want the loft, Chelsea can distract Gordon, like she's doing tonight. Can you get rid of Jason for us?"<br/>
<br/>
Number Three looks off somewhere over your head.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what Steve wanted," he says after a moment's thought. "But he couldn't get Gordon to go along with it. Gordon likes having Jason around, there's something between them."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
Another hesitation. "Steve didn't know. Gordon's funny that way, that's all that Steve knew. Lynch likes to come up here randomly, even when he knew that Steve was ... busy. He thought it was funny."<br/>
<br/>
"Think about how to handle him. For now, let me have Steve's number." You and Number Three exchange contact information. "After we've made a few more replacements, we'll have a meeting to make plans. For now, fill Steve Patterson's place. If I need the loft, I'll let you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Understood."<br/>
<br/>
You regard each other. The voice you have been speaking with comes from a place inside you that you hardly feel you control, but it now falls silent. When you speak again, it is a voice coming from somewhere else.<br/>
<br/>
"If the real Kim Walsh and the real Steve Patterson had come up here, tonight, like this—" You point to the laptop. "What would have happened?"<br/>
<br/>
Number Three's face is a cold and rigid mask as he answers.<br/>
<br/>
"He would have fucked her if he could, but he'd have made her feel special when he did, then fucked her and made her feel specialer some more, and kept fucking her and making her feel special, for about a week or two. Then she would have found out he was fucking another girl and making her feel just as special."<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Is that something you can do?"<br/>
<br/>
It is very dark now, but you can see the look of puzzled contempt that faintly distorts Number Three's face.<br/>
<br/>
"I am a fully functional duplicate of Steve Patterson. Anything he could do, I can do."<br/>
<br/>
"Then do it. Not to me," you add as he reaches for you. "But to any girl I order you to."<br/>
<br/>
"You're the boss, boss."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So that's your Friday night. You leave Number Three to lock up the loft, and return to Kim's.<br/>
<br/>
You find it hard to concentrate after you are in her bedroom, having changed for bed but still sitting up to flick across the internet on her phone. This lack of concentration bothers you, and it also bothers you that you are not more bothered by it, only gently irritated. You felt a mental fog descending on you after classes let out, when you worked in the office conference room. It lifted while you were with Patterson; and while there was no fog while you were with Number Three, you still felt like a spectator inside your own mind and body, watching and listening as you swapped Number Three in for Patterson, and gave the replacement his instructions.<br/>
<br/>
That bothers you too. You didn't feel in control, even as those instructions came out of you, doing as you wanted and planned. Where did that "Number Three" business come from? It makes sense—you've been telling the doppelgangers, Chelsea and Kim and now Steve, that they are imposters, and giving them a <i>number</i> as a name and identity seems like a good idea for keeping them under control. Your time with Patterson, if nothing else, has convinced you how bad it could be if his duplicate was free to act like the original. You felt both bullied and seduced by him, and you wonder if you could resist if the doppelganger acted like Patterson with you. But you don't remember <i>deciding</i> to call the duplicates by numbers rather than by names. It just came out that way.<br/>
<br/>
Kim's dad knocks to say good night, and shortly afterward you put out the light. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling as sleepless now as when you woke this morning. <i>That's when the trouble started,</i> you realize with a frown. <i>I woke up this morning in a kind of mental fog, and I was in a mental fog all day. Well, except when I was in class, and with Steve.</i><br/>
<br/>
A cold ripple runs over you. <i>It cleared up when I had to act like Kim because other people were around.</i><br/>
<br/>
The thought, <i>Act like Kim</i> comes to you, and at once, with a shuddering sigh, you are warm all over. Your eyes droop and you sleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You run errands for your dad all next morning, and help around the house until a little after noon. During that time you text Numbers One and Three, to see what they are doing. Steve is also busy; Chelsea reports she has reached a kind of detente with Gordon, thought he is still being "a butt." You would leave it there, but as your chores are winding down you get another text from Chelsea: <i>Omg boss did u sleep at loft wi steve last nite?</i> She links you to an x2z thread filled with anonymous speculations.<br/>
<br/>
You set her to tracking down the source of the rumors, then call Number Three.<br/>
<br/>
"Betcha anything it was Kendra," he says when you meet at William McKinley Elementary. He's in shorts and a tank top, and he brought a ball and is shooting hoops while you watch from the edge of the blacktop. He seemed "switched off" and robotic when you met, so you told him to "be Steve", and his face relaxed into a louche and knowing smirk as he spun the ball on a fingertip. His face grew hard and his eyes very cold, though, when you told him of the rumors. "Also," he complains, "you're talking like you don't want people thinking it's true."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want people talking about us. I don't want them knowing what happened up there last night."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you don't want people knowing what <i>really</i> happened," he retorts. "Best deflection is to let 'em think we did something else instead." He mimes passing the ball to his left, then pivots to his right to loft and sink the ball in the basket. "Besides, what's wrong with people thinking Kim and Steve are being a couple of beasts with each other?" he asks as he jogs over to retrieve the ball. "It'd make sense for us to be together, if I'm going to help you.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, it's funny," he continues when you say nothing. "Remember last night, at Canopies, when Steve said you help people too much? He was going to add something about how you needed someone to help you. But then he came up with a different line, a different way to get into your panties. Moron." He snorts. "And now here I am"—he sends the ball into the basket again—"doing that and all his other jobs for him."<br/>
<br/>
You are reminded of that fear you had last night, of how easy it would be for him to bully you with his attentions and his personality. "Okay. Then stop being Steve for a minute. If you want to help, let's talk about the plan." So he leaves the ball to roll away while standing attentively but impassively before you.<br/>
<br/>
You have the security of the loft, but now you want a money stream. So you describe to him the ideas you've had for your next replacement:<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey Blankenship, a queen bee who runs one of the top cliques at school, and whose father gave her a BMW from one of his dealerships, and gives her lots of spending money.<br/>
<br/>
Charles Hartlein, the very out-of-the-closet drama club president, who has his finger on the pulse of the artsy underground at school, and who also has lots of money to throw around.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoever it is" that runs the drug trade at school. (Number Three confirms that it's Gary Chen who is the root of that particular evil.)<br/>
<br/>
And "whoever it is" that runs the Warehouse and makes money off it. (There, too, Number Three confirms that Erik Carstairs of the football squad would be the best person to replace with a doppelganger if you want to control that.)<br/>
<br/>
But then he offers a surprising suggestion. "Jonathan Straussler."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know who he is."<br/>
<br/>
"He's at Eastman. He's on their basketball team, and his dad is a software and technology tycoon or something. He's a billionaire, anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Does Jonathan have money? Of his own, I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Steve had the impression he does. If we really want money, though, we'd want to replace his father. But also Jonathan, to act as a conduit."<br/>
<br/>
You ponder this. When it becomes too awkward having Number Three hovering lifelessly over you, you tell him to "turn Steve back on." That means his expression softens into a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay. You know, I could get us Straussler this afternoon, I bet," he says. "Unless—" He leans over you. "You wanna start some <i>more</i> rumors about Steve and Kim."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135531311121211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Gossip Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't need any more rumors about Kim and Steve, thank you very much, and you tell Number Three that he can do whatever Steve would do while you take care of some other business. He shrugs, and goes back to practicing free throws.<br/>
<br/>
Your mind is more or less made up for you shortly afterward, when Chelsea texts to say that she is ninety percent sure of who made those posts about Kim and Steve: It was Kelsey Blankenship. Why does she think that? Because, she explains over the course of several texts, that anonymous account has been used to make other salacious posts that Chelsea credits to Kelsey.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure you buy her reasoning—it sounds circular—but you find it plausible. Kim has caught Kelsey at a couple of underhanded things in the past, and it would be very much in character for her to have made the posts. Probably, you reflect, this is Kelsey's revenge for your failure to help her out with that bake-sale fundraising idea.<br/>
<br/>
But Kelsey doesn't know who she's really dealing with, does she?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Kelsey is too busy to see you today (she tells you when you text) because she's got her regular Saturday night party to set up. (And why doesn't she invite you out? You don't ask.) And as for Sunday, well ... She won't know what she is doing Sunday it comes, <i>lol.</i><br/>
<br/>
So you spend the bulk of Saturday night making another mask while thrashing out with Chelsea, by phone, the kind of choice morsel will not only make Kelsey bite on your hook, but hurl herself from the water and into your frying pan. Eventually, you come up with a story that is calculated to the micron to be irresistible.<br/>
<br/>
But she doesn't take it.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, for God's sake," she sneers when you phone her Sunday afternoon and dangle it in front of her. "Kim, I swear, sometimes you can be so gullible!"<br/>
<br/>
"How am I being gullible?" you demand. "Chelsea said—"<br/>
<br/>
"If Chelsea said it, you're gullible to believe it! That's just the way she is."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she's not trying to convince <i>me!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"She doesn't have to, you already swallowed it. Kim, I don't know how you think you're going to get ahead in politics or whatever if you're just going to— <i>I can't even, sometimes, with you!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Would you like to explain it to me?" you growl out through grinding teeth.<br/>
<br/>
"Pah!" You can practically hear her eyes roll. "You're just a trivial little gear in Chelsea's schemes, Kim, I don't have to explain anything to <i>you.</i> This is all about <i>her</i> getting at <i>me!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Could the girl be any more like herself than with what she just said? <i>Kelsey, Kelsey, Kelsey, it's always about Kelsey!</i><br/>
<br/>
But she continues. "So if I say 'No' to this Spirit Club thing—"<br/>
<br/>
"Mentors' Club."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever. This Mentors' Club JV Cheerleader bullshit. If I say 'No', I won't help, then that makes me the bad guy, and Chelsea gets to go around talking about how I have no school spirit, and I'm selfish, and jealous of her and everything else."<br/>
<br/>
"So say 'Yes'."<br/>
<br/>
"Which is <i>exactly</i> what she wants, because <i>then</i> she gets to sabotage and sandbag me! I'll need her help with it, but she won't give it. Or she'll find ways to fuck it up for me. And then it'll all be, <i>Look at Kelsey, she couldn't make it work, even with all the help I gave her!</i> And then she'll get me kicked out and she'll get Kendra or Gloria or <i>you</i> to take it over, and then magically it'll all turn out great! It's a no-win situation for me!"<br/>
<br/>
"So instead you're going to say 'No,' and let her go around calling you selfish and jealous and lacking in school spirit."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to say anything!"<br/>
<br/>
"Which is the same as saying no!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Who the fuck's side are you on, Kim? Who the fuck's side?"</i><br/>
<br/>
Chelsea snickers when you call her afterward with the news. "Oh my God, Kelsey's no dummy!" she giggles. "That's totally what I would have done! That was actually an idea I— Well, an idea <i>Chelsea</i> had, but never did anything with. That's how come I had it all ready to go for you! Well," she sighs, "give me a little while, boss, and I'll see if I can come up with another idea for you."<br/>
<br/>
But you come up with one on your own.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Anthony Kirk is one of Kelsey's country club cronies, a preppy with close-cropped blonde hair and a golfer's tan; the kind of guy who even for school dresses in polo shirts and slacks and loafers. You yourself always thought him a snob, though a marginally less repulsive snob that Geoff Mansfield or Martin Gardinhire, because at least he only ignored you instead of sneering at you. Which in a way made it worse.<br/>
<br/>
Kim, though, always found him polite and decent and friendly. Quiet and maybe a little smug on account of his grades and his family's long-time membership in the city elites, but always there to help out.<br/>
<br/>
So an hour later he's helping out by giving you a ride to Kelsey's estate. You have given him the story, and it's left him shaking his head.<br/>
<br/>
"She's paranoid," he says. "I mean, I've heard stories about Chelsea, but nothing like <i>that.</i> A whole plan to make a JV cheerleader squad, paid for through the Mentors' Club and volunteer work, just to humiliate Kelsey by— How again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sandbagging her if she says 'yes,' and attacking her if she says 'no'."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus. What do <i>you</i> think, Kim?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think there's something else going on, but Kelsey won't talk to me."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a sidelong look. "Is there some kind of bad blood between you and her?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I couldn't help her with a bake sale idea she had—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God, I heard about that, too. With Brianna Kirschke's parents? That was <i>never</i> going to work!"<br/>
<br/>
For the first time—maybe because of a sudden similarity you see between Kelsey's bake-sale idea and the JV cheerleader squad proposal—you wonder about that. "Maybe it wasn't supposed to work," you muse aloud.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing. I'd sound paranoid if I told you. Can you pull around the other way?" you ask as Anthony starts to turn into the carriage drive that circles in front of Kelsey's house. "That way she can't see me from her window."<br/>
<br/>
Anthony obliges, and also gets out to push the button on the intercom that connects to Kelsey's wing of her stupidly big house, out here in the country where the "horsey set" live. He talks into it, then returns to the car with a big thumb's up. "Thanks, luv," you tell him as he climbs in and you climb out, hefting your bag with you. "You're like a butterscotch teddy bear."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll pretend I like butterscotch, then," he grumbles good-naturedly.<br/>
<br/>
You push open the double front doors (now unlocked) and step into the immense entry way  behind them, turning only long enough to wave at Anthony before he drives off. There are four arched exits leading out: to a living area, the dining kitchen area, the wing with the master suite, and the wing where Kelsey has her suite. The staircase leading up to the latter is directly on the other side of the arch, and as she descends you get to see Kelsey's long, slim, summer-tanned legs before the girl's head comes into view.<br/>
<br/>
She's beaming until she sees it's you; then her face falls. "What are <i>you</i> doing here, Kim?" she demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Having it out with you. And Anthony's on my side, so don't bother bitching at him." You brush past her up the stairway, bumping her shoulder with your bag. At the top is her suite: a short corridor with doors leading to her bedroom, her bath, and the "game room" where she entertains her friends. It's into this one that you stride.<br/>
<br/>
You're waiting by the plate-glass window overlooking the giant back yard when she appears in the doorway. You crook a finger, and she steps all the way inside. So you make the long walk over to push the door shut, then return to the game table where you had set your bag. You point to one of the seats. <br/>
<br/>
"Sit down, Kelsey. I want to talk to you about the shit you've been spreading about me online, and about Karl and what you've been doing with him at the Donna."<br/>
<br/>
She pales at the revelation that you know about her shenanigans at the motel, and walks stiffly over. She doesn't sit, though, until you push her back against the chair. Even after she's set herself in it, she sits straight and rigid and glares at you.<br/>
<br/>
You pull out the mask you finished last night, and it feels so good to mash it into her face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Who told Kelsey about me and Steve?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kendra Saunders."<br/>
<br/>
"How did Kendra find out?"<br/>
<br/>
"She didn't tell Kelsey how."<br/>
<br/>
"Kelsey just believed her?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I guess she wanted to believe it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why did she post about it online?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was dirt. She used to post every bit of dirt she could find on Kim."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
Number Four's gaze goes distant.<br/>
<br/>
"She never asked herself that," she answers after a lengthy and searching pause. "She just did it." Her gaze refocuses on you. "Maybe t's like something she once told Amanda. <i>I get a sour stomach every time I look at Kim."</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, Kim and Kelsey are both gone and replaced, and so is the animosity between them. But if what Number Four has told you is true, it would look odd if "Kelsey" stopped undercutting Kim behind her back, so you instruct the doppelganger to continue doing as Kelsey had been doing.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing, boss," Number Four says. "Is there anything else I can do to help out?"<br/>
<br/>
You sit beside her, and explain your plans. She drinks it all in with deep fascination, looking more and more like the real Kelsey as you outline how you intend to get control the school by duplicating and replacing key people. People like the girl whose place <i>she</i> has taken.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111355313111212111
author_id: seuzz
title: Stormy Weather, Part 1
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Monday brings thunderstorms. You dress for the day accordingly, in a body stocking, jeans skirt, rugged button-up shirt, and jeans jacket, and pull your hair back into a ponytail. Maybe it's your clothes and maybe there's something in your face, but your father over breakfast remarks that you look like you've dressed for battle.<br/>
<br/>
There's thunderstorms on the social front as well. There was a major <i>contretemps</i> over the weekend, with a Westside student unfurling a banner that represented the Westside Dragon in the act of dropping a dookie on the Eastman Eagle. Worse was that it was a member of the East-West Club (a trans-school organization meant to foster cooperation between the two high schools) who who did it. And, unforgivably, she unfurled it from the side of the Eastman gymnasium to greet the other members of the Club as they arrived for a Sunday afternoon meeting.<br/>
<br/>
But the big crisis (for you, at least) has to be the topic of "Kim Walsh and Steve Patterson???!?!!?" which has blown up dramatically since yesterday. Number Four has dutifully followed your instructions, and when you log in to social media over breakfast you find it all over x2z and in a couple of other places as well. Most of the threads and posts are anonymous, of course, but Number Four herself has waded in under Kelsey's name to defend you from the worst of the dirty speculations. But with Kelsey's usual adroitness she has also managed to feed it a little more fuel by adding a "not that there's anything wrong with it" disclaimer to her defenses, and also airily observing that Steve would be a real catch for someone like Kim, because no one would expect someone like Patterson to give Kim a second look. <i>Well played, Number Four,</i> you think as you munch your morning granola. <i>Now that I see Kelsey's old skills in undisguised play, we'll have to figure out how to use them for </i>our<i> purposes.</i><br/>
<br/>
Word has bubbled up far enough that Number Three himself has dropped a query into your x2z DMs (which are otherwise suspiciously empty), asking about the drama. You reply that the rumors are being spread on your orders through Number Four (a.k.a. Kelsey Blankenship, newly replaced), and that he is to handle them "in character." <i>But stay away from me today while I study the reaction,</i> you tell him. He replies with a thumb's up.<br/>
<br/>
And the reaction hits you in the face almost as soon as you arrive on campus.<br/>
<br/>
It starts with Deanna Showalter, loitering on the edge of the student parking lot, whose face lights up like the Jumbotron in Times Square when she sees you. Inwardly you flinch, for Deanna is a notorious gossip, but Kim is skilled at hiding her reaction, so you just smile and offer her a neutral greeting as she runs up. "Oh my God, Kim!" she gasps and hugs you. "I just heard!"<br/>
<br/>
"Heard what?" you ask, taken aback and wondering if something genuinely awful has happened.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean that thing at Eastman! What a mess!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" you exclaim in some relief, for that's <i>not</i> what you thought she'd be upset about. "Yeah, well, I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding."<br/>
<br/>
"But the East-West Club does so much good! I mean, if this thing blows the club up—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh please, it won't do that, Deanna!"<br/>
<br/>
"So what are you going to try to do about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me?" Again, you're taken aback. "I'm not in the East-West Club."<br/>
<br/>
She gives a start. "You're not? I thought—! Oh, well, you're still student council president! I mean, this is something that, you know, I think you should—"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I'll leave it to them. It's their club."<br/>
<br/>
Then she squeals. "You know what I was thinking? This could be the perfect way to bring the schools together, like, with some kind of demonstration of, um, solidarity? You know how the girls' soccer teams had that exhibition match last month? What if—?" She dances excitedly in place. "What if we set up something like that with the basketball teams? The boys' teams! Just to show that, you know, they're rivals and all, but they're all friends and stuff, right?" Her expression turns sly. "You could talk to Gordon and ... Steve? ... about it, at least?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Jesus,</i> you think. <i>So that really is what this is all about.</i> "I think I'll leave it to the East-West guys," you repeat. "But I'll pass your idea along if I wind up talking to one of them."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you know everybody, Kim," Deanna says. She accompanies you into the school, prattling all the while.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
First and second periods are a different kind of ordeal. First is a basic Journalism class that Kim signed up for because she needed a Vocational credit, and because it is mostly populated with freshmen and sophomores, which gives her a chance to meet and connect with underclassmen. But it also contains Joshua Call, a hard-faced, hard-bodied creep with wiry hairs on his forearms, and black hair that lays flat on his head and shines like an oil slick. He does nothing but stare at her, and she suffered all summer long during her job at Walmart because he worked at the store too. Once, he even followed her out into the parking lot after hours, and she was sure he was going to rape her, but instead he gave her this creepy speech in a low, husky voice about how if she ever was in trouble with a guy, she should let him know so he could "take care" of it for her. He skips most of his classes, but he's always in this one, and Kim can always feel his eyes on the back of her head.<br/>
<br/>
You can feel them there today, and they feel extra murderous. But Call doesn't say anything to you, even when he follows you out of the room when the bell rings, so closely that he nearly trods on your heels.<br/>
<br/>
Second period is even more excruciating. Kim wanted to take AP Spanish IV but there was a scheduling conflict, so Ms. Martinez set up what is technically a "tutoring period" for her and two other students who had similar conflicts, where they could practice their Spanish conversational skills as she half-listened while doing other work during her free period. One of the other students is Phoebe Beauchamp, a sweet and healthy soccer player, while the other is ... Steve Patterson. It was obvious all through September that Steve was more interested in Phoebe than in Kim (which suited Kim just fine), until came the week when Phoebe skipped every second period. Eventually she crawled back (probably because Ms. Martinez insisted) but relations between her and Steve have been cold and correct ever since.<br/>
<br/>
So today, even though you and Number Three act as though nothing is wrong, Phoebe watches you both with slit-eyed menace and can hardly keep a polite tone in her voice. You're tempted to pull her aside after class and tell her <i>to ignore the stupid rumors,</i> but you're sure it would do no good.<br/>
<br/>
Kim usually spends third period study halls in the office doing school work and studying, but on Mondays she goes into the library to quietly tutor Victoria Rodriguez in Spanish. Victoria says nothing today, but she doesn't have to. Every sentence out of her mouth, and every twinkle in her eye is a clear allusion to what you and Steve must have been getting up to.<br/>
<br/>
But it's right before fourth period that the really unexpectedly awful thing happens.<br/>
<br/>
That's when Kim has an art class—another class she is taking for a graduation credit, and because it is mostly freshmen and sophomores—and it's just as you're stepping through the doorway that you bump into David Kirkham, who with folded arms is leaning in on Mindy McAdams with a kind of close interest whose nature is obvious. But he does a double-take when he sees you, and steps back to stop you from passing. "Hang on a minute, Kim," he says before turning back to Mindy. He touches her on the arm with a forefinger and murmurs, "I'll see <i>you</i> at lunch." She grins, and shimmying like a snake worms her way over to her spot at a work table.<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham then touches you on the shoulder with that same forefinger, and gestures you over a few steps into the corner of the room. "I'm worried about you, Kim," he says in a soft, slithering baritone. "I'm hearing things, and they got me worried."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of things?" you ask in a quavering voice.<br/>
<br/>
David Kirkham is the last person you would expect to be worried about anyone—he's much more likely to <i>cause</i> anxiety attacks. He's a sociopathic bully, a hard-bodied coil of mean and remorseless muscle. He is olive-complected with dark hair, and he wears tinted glasses that, even indoors, hide his eyes in a way that seems menacing. He typically rolls a scented toothpick around in his mouth, and he likes to get close to his victims, so close that they can smell the cinnamon on his breath, as he describes exactly what he's going to do them, and how much it's going to hurt. Kirkham doesn't seem to have a special animus for anyone, but he does seem to sniff out and punish weakness merely for existing, and Will Prescott has been a frequent victim.<br/>
<br/>
He's close enough to you now that you can smell the spice on his breath, and you can just make out the dark of his eyes behind the tint of his shades, as he speaks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm hearing things about you and an asshole basketball player. Are they true?"<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. "What business is it of yours?"<br/>
<br/>
"Business between friends. I like you, Kim," he says, "I always have. So I don't like the idea of you getting hurt. I don't like the idea of you being stupid, either. You know that asshole's bad for you. You're not just a piece of tail, which is all you are to him. You're one of the few really special girls in this shithole school."<br/>
<br/>
He takes the toothpick from his mouth, and gestures at you with it. "At least, <i>I</i> think you're special."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113553131112121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Stormy Weather, Part 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>David Kirkham thinks you're special? <i>Ewwww!</i><br/>
<br/>
You manage to keep your composure, even though you feel like you see right through his shades and into that slimy cesspit where he keeps his rotten soul. <i>He sees a chance to score with me! He thinks I'm 'easy' if I'm willing to do something with Steve!</i><br/>
<br/>
"Thanks, David," you say with the best smile you can muster. "That's really sweet of you."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not being sweet, Kim." His cobra-like voice sinks to a near whisper. "I'm giving you my honest—"<br/>
<br/>
His breath is warm on your cheek, and for a moment you think he's going to lean in and put his lips on your face. But he pulls back a little, and slips his toothpick back between cheek and gum.<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell me you're going to look out for yourself, Kim," he says, and arches concerned eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
"I will, don't worry," you assure him through a frozen smile. "And don't believe everything you read online."<br/>
<br/>
"That's good, and that's good advice," he says. He steps back and starts to turn away, but he catches himself. "If it's not true, who is it going around saying it is?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. No one. You know how rumors get started."<br/>
<br/>
"If you ever find out, let me know." He shows you an admonitory finger. "I think someone's got it in for you, Kim, if they're spreading around filth like that. Come look for me anytime." He holds your eye as he takes a step back, then turns to swagger from the room.<br/>
<br/>
You let out a breath of relief, and stagger over to your own work table.<br/>
<br/>
But as you pass her, Mindy shoots daggers at you with her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You can hardly bear to bring yourself to go to lunch, to eat at the table with Kim's usual friends, none of whom you have seen yet. It might be your imagination, but you think you see a shiftiness in their eyes and faces as you join them, even though conversation circles nowhere near the topic of you and Steve.<br/>
<br/>
Until Kelsey lunges in and drags it up, to throw it like a dead whale onto the table where you're all eating.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!" she nearly screams while checking her phone. "I can't fucking believe it! Kim!" She whirls to look at you with a face curdled with outrage and sympathy. "If you need me to kill Phoebe Beauchamp for you, I will! Did you <i>see</i> what she—? Here, I'll send you a link," she says as you and everyone else stare at her with open mouths. "No, just, here, take it." She thrusts the phone toward you, and you grasp it with numb fingers. "Second post from the top."<br/>
<br/>
It's a thread on x2z, of course, about you and Steve. The reply in question says, of you two, <i>Quick how to say I want fuck u blind in Spanish kim n steve want to know.</i> The poster, of course, is anonymous.<br/>
<br/>
You hand the phone back to Kelsey. "Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"She can't get away with it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who? Dragonsgirl276?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was Phoebe, Kim," Kelsey scornfully informs you.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you know that's her user name?"<br/>
<br/>
Amanda says, "Don't pretend to be so freaking dense, Kim. She's the only other girl in that Spanish study group with you and Steve. The only one who <i>saw</i> what you were doing with each other in there."<br/>
<br/>
Anthony flushes and glares at Amanda, but you only say, "I can't do anything about it."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>We</i> can," Kelsey says. "We can—! Oh, but if you just want to let it go, Kim, that's up to you." She returns to studying her phone with her nose high in the air.<br/>
<br/>
Afterward, as you're leaving the cafeteria, Anthony falls in beside you. "God, Kim," he says, "you are so freaking patient."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"All that bullshit." He stops you and gives you a hard look. "How did things wind up yesterday, after you talked to Kelsey?"<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to recover the memory of the cover story you gave him for that visit. "F-fine," you stammer. "She's going to turn Chelsea down of course, but—" You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't piss her off, did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who, Kelsey? Well, it got kind of ... hot ... for a bit."<br/>
<br/>
Anthony groans. "Well, watch yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
He studies you a moment, then says, "I'm pretty sure it wasn't Phoebe who posted that thing, whatever it was."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I don't know who DragongirlWhatever is."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mean that." He squints at you with concern. "But lots of people know you have that Spanish study group, and any of them could have posted that thing. <i>Amanda</i> knows you're in that group."<br/>
<br/>
You can tell that he's all but accusing Amanda of making the post, probably at Kelsey's behest, but you pretend not to make the inference. "That's a point. Thanks, Anthony. I actually was feeling kind of mad at Phoebe."<br/>
<br/>
He shifts from foot to foot, then says, "I'm really sorry about all this, Kim. You have no idea."<br/>
<br/>
Later, at your locker, you send Number Four a DM at her secret "PrettyIvy" account at x2z: <i>Who is Dragonsgirl? Amanda?</i><br/>
<br/>
The reply, when it comes: <i>Lol yes we made acct ths morning I told her what write. Awesome right boss?<br/>
<br/>
Perfect. Do more,</i> you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
The harder she and Amanda work to humiliate Kim, the less likely Amanda is likely to anticipate the secret counterattack you'll hit her with from Number Four's direction.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Number One DMs you shortly after lunch, to warn that you are likely to be a topic of conversation eighth period with Kendra and Gloria, and asks how to handle it. You remind her that as a member of the East-West Club, she should be concentrating on <i>that</i> emergency. <i>Gotcha, boss!</i> she replies with a grinning emoji.<br/>
<br/>
Last-period Student Congress is the final hurdle to get through, but at least it is preoccupied with gossip about the East-West crisis. More has come to light there. It appears to have been some kind of bizarre misunderstanding, with a freshman girl from Westside having gotten her wires crossed and made the banner as an innocent bit of would-be hazing. But Kelsey is still gleeful about the embarrassment it will have cause Chelsea Cooper.<br/>
<br/>
Still, though you have managed to slough off most of the stress that Kim would carry on her shoulders, it is a relief to totter into the office after classes have ended, and to zone out over school work. Just as happened yesterday, the time seems to compress to mere minutes, and when you surface you have no good memory of evenhaving done the work.<br/>
<br/>
Then comes the last order of the day: x2z DMs to the "Numbers," telling them to rendezvous back at the school at eight-thirty tonight for a conference. <i>Personalities off when you arrive,</i> you tell them, for you've had quite enough of some of them, thank you.<br/>
<br/>
Numbers One and Three are parked by the gym when you arrive, and they are silent and almost motionless when you catch up to them in the dark and shadowy loft; you say nothing but only join them to wait for the last of your quartet to show. No one reacts except to turn and watch when, a quarter hour later, Number Four joins you. <i>Someone's missing,</i> you think, and it takes you a moment to realize you've forgotten Will Prescott, to the point of not even assigning him a number. But you dismiss the thought for the present.<br/>
<br/>
"Excellent work today," you tell the doppelgangers. "Especially from Number Four." She flashes you the smallest smirk in acknowledgement. "I have no special instructions except to continue. You don't have to beat it to death, though. Let yourself be distracted. But we also need to concentrate on expanding our ranks, and that's why I want to talk to you. Do you have any suggestions?"<br/>
<br/>
"Phoebe Beauchamp," Number Three says without hesitation. "She's popular and has lots of friends on the soccer squad. Also," he adds as a small murmur of assent comes from the girls, "Ms. Martinez is in and out of the classroom all the time, and the three of us could easily conference in there."<br/>
<br/>
"That's a good point. Any others?"<br/>
<br/>
Numbers One and Four have a number of suggestions, the most obvious being Deanna Showalter. But most of their suggestions, like Amanda Ferguson or Cindy Vredenburg, you privately dismiss as overlapping too much with the replacements you've already made. But Number Three makes one other suggestion that you give weight to: Mr. Hummel, the wood- and metal-working teacher, whose workshop could double as a meeting place if the loft is unavailable, and who, as a teacher, would be both above suspicion and able to isolate potential victims for duplication and replacement. This reminds you of your earlier idea for replacing teachers or administrators.<br/>
<br/>
But it's when Number Three—whose suggestions are proving very shrewd, to your mind—suggests Gary Chen that you become aware of a gap in your thinking. With your present staff you have nicely covered the upper echelons of the school. What about the seamy underbelly? Don't you want to control it as well?<br/>
<br/>
And Kim already has established relationships with two of the most powerful elements down there: Joshua Call and David Kirkham.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135531311121211115
author_id: seuzz
title: Music and the Savage Beast
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What about David Kirkham?" you suggest.<br/>
<br/>
There is the faintest stir among the others.<br/>
<br/>
"We want ourselves at every level and corner of the school," you explain. "Even in the ... scummiest ... parts."<br/>
<br/>
"Kirkham qualifies for that," Number Three dryly observes. "He even deals."<br/>
<br/>
"He does?"<br/>
<br/>
"A little. Patterson caught him trying to push some on the squad a couple of times."<br/>
<br/>
That would make sense, because you've seen Kirkham hanging out with Gary Chen. But you also know there's more to him than that. "He plays in the orchestra," you muse aloud.<br/>
<br/>
"He's in the chamber orchestra too," Number Four says. "And in a string quartet."<br/>
<br/>
"What's his reputation with girls?"<br/>
<br/>
"Scum," says Number Three. "He makes trouble everywhere he goes."<br/>
<br/>
You like him the more you think about him. "Tell me about this string quartet," you order Number Four. "Do they play for money?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've heard they do."<br/>
<br/>
"Then that's how we'll catch him. Number One, Number Three, you can resume your characters and go. Number Four, let's talk."<br/>
<br/>
"So, how's Gordon's cock tasting these days?" Number Three asks Number One as they exit. "Bite me, you shit," she snarls back. "Love to," he says, and she squawks as he pokes her in the ass.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Tuesday is better than Monday, possibly because Number Four has ceased to stir the pot, and possibly because the novelty of the scandal has begun to wear off. Joshua Call still glares at you in first period, and Phoebe is hardly more than civil in second, but there are no further explosions or surprises. During third period you slightly bend your student council privileges to get David Kirkham's class schedule from one of the office assistants, and find that he has the same lunch as you. So you skip the cafeteria to go looking for him.<br/>
<br/>
It's a profitless search until you've wasted half the period making a circuit of the school, inside and out, until you happen to notice that the doors to the marching band practice room is open. It's empty, but you to look inside the others, and it's in the orchestra room that you find Kirkham, slouching in a chair with his arms folded across his chest and his legs stretched out in front of him. Despite cool, drizzly weather, he is in shorts that show strong, dark legs; but he is also wearing a hoodie. He's got earbuds in and would look asleep, but that he is rolling a toothpick around in his mouth. Some of his scum-sucking buddies—Brophy Maddox, Rich Austin, and Spencer Osbourne—are squatting nearby, sniggering and punching each other, but in the back of the room Tyler Burns, Abigail Kane, and a couple of other orchestra types are quietly chatting, unmolested.<br/>
<br/>
The latter look up at you expectantly, but you shuffle over to Kirkham. He doesn't react, until you lean over to touch him on he knee. "I warned you motherfuckers," he growls, then gives a little start and sits up in his chair. His three friends watch, and snicker.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you say after he has pulled a bud from his ear; from it blares something that sounds like thrash metal. "Can I talk to you a minute?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," he says, sounding a little baffled. When you glance over at his friends, he says, "Oh. Okay, you cocksuckers can fuck off now."<br/>
<br/>
Spencer grins. "He wants to talk to a pretty girl."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck off before I get a weed-eater and forceps and <i>turn</i> you into a pretty girl."<br/>
<br/>
Spencer laughs, but there's a nervous edge to it, and he and the others lever themselves onto their feet. You wait until they're gone before taking a seat next to Kirkham. He turns off the music and pulls the other earbud out, but he continues to roll that toothpick around in his mouth while studying you from behind his shades.<br/>
<br/>
"Two things," you tell him in a confiding tone. "First of all, a head's up. I know you, um, sometimes sell ... stuff ... on campus. I've heard that the administration might be getting, um, interested in it. Like, to stop it."<br/>
<br/>
He sucks on the toothpick. "Yeah, okay," he says, "thanks for the word, it's sweet of you to think of me. But I don't got nothing to worry about. 'Cos if I deal, and I'm not saying I do, it's only to cocksuckers who know better than to narc. So what's your second of all?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Well. Second of all— You play in a string quartet, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh."<br/>
<br/>
"For money?"<br/>
<br/>
He rolls the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "You make it sound like we're whores."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I didn't mean—"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't think you did." One side of his mouth curls up. "I'm just telling you what it sounded like."<br/>
<br/>
"Well— Okay, would you be interested in playing a ... gig?"<br/>
<br/>
His head tilts fractionally. "Just me, or the whole quartet?"<br/>
<br/>
"The quartet."<br/>
<br/>
"When, where, what, and how much? Answer the last one first."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! Well, I don't know, I guess that ... could be negotiated? It would be at the country club, for a fundraiser. Um, probably closer to the holidays? And ... What else do you need to know?"<br/>
<br/>
"The how much. It'll cost whoever it is at least—" He chews on the toothpick. "A thousand."<br/>
<br/>
You suck in a breath. "Wow! Okay, um, would you be able to come out to Kelsey's after school, to talk about it? Because she's the one—"<br/>
<br/>
"Kelsey Blankenship?" His brow furrows.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. It would be her and her family setting it up. Well, mostly her. It's for a fundraiser, like I said—"<br/>
<br/>
"So how come she didn't come ask me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, well, she mentioned it to me, and I said I'd ask you."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Well, as long as you're acting like her lawyer or whatever, I'll want you coming out, too, for the ... negotiations."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sure!" That is, after all, exactly what you want.<br/>
<br/>
"Nice. What time? And how do I get out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"It'll have to be six or so. She has tennis practice after school. But I can give you a ride to her place, I have to go out to see her anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"We can't talk to her here at—? Never mind. As long as I'm getting a ride with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Great, thanks! Come look for me in the office around five?"<br/>
<br/>
"The office?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's where I do my homework after classes."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Oh, and Kim," he says after you get up to leave. "It'll be about suppertime when we're done. You mind if we stop and get something to eat on the way back out here?"<br/>
<br/>
You dimple at him. "Sure! We'll probably have lots to talk about anyway!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a rooster-like strut in Kirkham's stride as he accompanies you out to your car as the school is closing down, but he's always strutting, and otherwise he is a perfect gentleman on the drive out, even if the menace never quite evaporates from his low, soft voice. He tells you about the Wendigo String Quartet, as it is called, and how it came to be, and what kind of music they play. <i>No Pachelbel,</i> he warns you. <i>If she makes us play Pachelbel, we'll set fire to the fucking place on our way out.</i> You laugh, but it doesn't exactly sound like he's joking.<br/>
<br/>
He looks over the front of Kelsey's house when you arrive but says nothing, and inside he nods curtly at Kelsey and makes no remarks as you and he follow her up into her game room. She is very chipper and asks if she can get him anything. "Let's talk business first," he says as he settles like a panther onto one of the sofas, laying his arm along its back and crossing an ankle over one knee. He had taken the toothpick out on entering, but he slips back inside a cheek now.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." Kelsey casts you a nervous glance as you move around to set your backpack on the nearby game table. "Kim says you'd charge a thousand dollars—"<br/>
<br/>
"Minimum. You can add a piano and hire yourself a quintet, but that'd cost you an extra thousand. 'Cos it'd be Preston on the keyboard. He's been to nationals in Washington, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, that's impressive! But I think a thousand would—"<br/>
<br/>
"What's it for?"<br/>
<br/>
"The music? A fundraiser. For the country club."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not for a charity?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, no."<br/>
<br/>
"In that case, the fee is fifteen percent of the money raised, against the thousand as a minimum. How many people are we talking, and at what price admission?"<br/>
<br/>
You've got the mask out of the bag, but you stop to listen and let him finish. You are finding it fascinating.<br/>
<br/>
"Um ..." This beyond well what you and Number Four had invented as bait. You hadn't even invented a charitable cause, which is why she has had to make it a fundraiser for the country club itself. "Probably a hundred couples, at a hundred dollars a couple?"<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham takes out the toothpick and points it at her. "Fifteen percent of the gross ticket sales, with a thousand-dollar minimum, plus thirty-five percent of everything over ten thousand."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's for a bunch of rich fucks trying to raise money off the the backs of some high school students. At the price I just quoted, we're probably talking no more than four hundred for each of us, with a balance of more than eight thousand going to your country club. Under the circumstances, I'd call my offer pretty goddamned generous." He slides the toothpick back in, and sits back to smile insolently up at Kelsey.<br/>
<br/>
You and she exchange a look, then you go up behind him and slide the mask—which you prepped yesterday afternoon—over his face. It vanishes into him, and he sags. Too late you realize you set it on him while he was still wearing his shades and had that toothpick in his mouth, but it seems to have made no difference.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111355313111212111151
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Talk Over Tacos
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, this'll work," Number Five says as he studies his face in the screen of the cell phone. He touches his nose and lips and cheeks with questioning fingertips. "No one'll be able to spot I'm not the real guy." He lowers the phone and looks up at you. Kirkham's glasses are resting on the sofa beside his hip, along with the toothpick that you removed from Kirkham's mouth while the mask was duplicating him. "Do you want me acting like him too?"<br/>
<br/>
"After we leave here, and any time there's someone <i>not</i> of our kind around," you reply. "It's just us now, so you can put his personality to one side."<br/>
<br/>
It's very quiet up in Kelsey's game room. Even the heaters—which are on, for it is a cool and overcast day—are only a soft white noise. Number Four stands behind your shoulder, looking down her nose at Number Five, who is sitting where Kirkham had sat, in much the same leg-sprawling pose, looking up at you with a dead-eyed curiosity. You doubt the expression in Number Five's eyes is all that much different the one Kirkham habitually wore.<br/>
<br/>
"Number Four, Two, and Five," he muses as he ticks off the names of your trio against his fingertips with a thumb. "So is there a One and Three someplace? Are there any more of us?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're the latest, but we'll be making more. Number One is Chelsea Cooper. Number Three is Steve Patterson." Too late you remember that Will Prescott is out there too, but you dismiss him for now. <i>He can be Number Six,</i> you decide, <i>and I'll tell the others I made the replacement by myself.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Is there a pattern or a plan here?"<br/>
<br/>
It disturbs you, slightly, that he is so bold in his questions and in his looks. Save for the occasional "boss" that he drops into his conversation, and a lack of body behind his soft voice, even now he could pass for the real David Kirkham.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. We're replacing people at the school with duplicates."<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just certain people for now. We picked David because he gives us a path into the ... underbelly of the school. For when we decide to plant some duplicates down there."<br/>
<br/>
If this was real Kirkham, he would probably smirk, but Number Five contents himself with a short but thoughtful silence. "Okay. Do you already know who you want to replace down there, or are you taking suggestions?"<br/>
<br/>
"There'll be time for suggestions later. For now—" A sense of urgency has been prodding at you for the last minute or so. "For now, it's enough that we've got you in for him. We should go." You glance at Number Four. "It'll be dinnertime soon."<br/>
<br/>
"Do we need to talk about the string quartet any more?" Number Five asks as he slides Kirkham's glasses on. "Or was the deal he was pitching you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"There was no gig. It was just bait to lure him out here."<br/>
<br/>
Again, you would expect a smirk, but Number Five only says, "Played him like a fiddle, huh?" as he plucks up the toothpick.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Down at the car, you pause while putting the keys into the ignition. You feel no hunger, but Kirkham had suggested getting a bite afterward, you do feel a kind of pressure to eat. It's a pressure you've felt on some mornings, when you've risen before Kim's father is up, and other times when you've been alone at a mealtime. But in the presence of other people, like at school at lunchtime, you've felt actual hunger. It puzzles you enough that you ask Number Five, "Are you hungry?"<br/>
<br/>
After a pause, he says, "No, but I want to eat," which is very close to how you feel. So you suggest stopping at McDonald's, which is more or less on the way back to town, but Number Five says that he can't afford that, and suggests Taco Bell instead.<br/>
<br/>
"Remember, we're going to be around other people now," you caution him as you park. "We need to be Kim and David."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you say, boss," Number Five replies, and it glance over sharply at the cobra-like menace that has slithered back into his voice. He's giving you a sidelong look, and the corners of his mouth pull up slightly.<br/>
<br/>
You order at the front but take your trays to a far corner beside the restrooms, where you can eat without too much fear of eavesdropping. Number Five opens the conversation. "So what do I tell Kirkham's music friends about that gig?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have to tell them anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"He already told them he was going out to talk to Number— Kelsey." He wrenches off a bite of a taco. "'M surprised they're not already texting me about it," he mumbles around a mouthful of food.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell them it didn't work out. Kelsey wouldn't meet your price."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, no shit. Kirkham was asking way too fucking much."<br/>
<br/>
"It was quite a deal," you agree.<br/>
<br/>
"It was the only way he was ever going to be able to fuck Kelsey Blankenship, that's for motherfucking sure." He takes another harsh bite from his taco. "Fucking her out of some money, that was the idea."<br/>
<br/>
You linger over your meal without eating, studying him until he notices you staring. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"What did David think of Kim?" you ask, for you're conscious that it's something Kim would like to know. And you're only asking it, you realize, because you turned her personality back on when you came inside.<br/>
<br/>
"He liked her," Number Five says after a fractional pause, and rips another bite off his taco.<br/>
<br/>
"Did he like a lot of girls?"<br/>
<br/>
He chews and swallows before answering. "Sure, if you don't want the complicated answer."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the complicated answer?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "I don't think he liked hardly anyone. At least, that's what it feels like to me, assuming you copied him right when you passed all his shit on to me. Yeah, I'd fuck you, boss, fuck you 'til the top of your head popped off and my cum came foaming out. Don't worry, though, I'm not gonna put a move on you. But most girls he only liked for pussy, or the chance of it."<br/>
<br/>
"He told Kim she was something special."<br/>
<br/>
Number Five tosses the rest of the taco into his mouth, and straightens back in the chair. "That only meant he wanted to fuck her <i>and</i> fuck up anyone who made life hard for her," he says as he chews. "That was his idea of being, I dunno, chivalrous."<br/>
<br/>
You're reminded of Joshua Call, and that awkward, terrifying way he offered to take care of Kim. <i>If anyone ever messes with you, Kim,</i> he told her, <i>you let me know, and I'll mess </i>them<i> up. Mess them up so bad they'll never mess with anyone ever again.</i> If those weren't his exact words, they are close. And now Number Five has told you that David Kirkham felt much the same way. Is there something about Kim that makes orcs and goblins want to do things for her?<br/>
<br/>
"Was there anyone else he felt that way about?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Andrea Varnsworth, Chelsea Cooper, Cindy Vredenburg. Almost any of the cheerleaders."<br/>
<br/>
"He put Kim up there with ... them?"<br/>
<br/>
He unwraps his second taco. "No, not the way you're thinking. Kim was adorable. But there's lots of adorable girls he felt that way about. He gave that talk to a lot of 'em."<br/>
<br/>
"What talk?"<br/>
<br/>
He pauses in the act of raising the second taco to his mouth. "You want me to give it to you again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Later, not here. But who were some of the girls he gave it to?"<br/>
<br/>
He answers with a full mouth. "Oh, Katy Conlee. Bethany Lewis. Ximena Calderon. Those are just the ones off the top of my head."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, he told them they were ... special? Why did he give them that talk?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you think? Because he thought it would get him laid. It only worked once, but that was enough." He tears off another bite of his taco. "So he kept at it."<br/>
<br/>
"So he didn't really feel that way about Kim?" You can't help feeling disappointment.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure he did. I told you. It's just that he felt that way about lots of girls. It made him feel big."<br/>
<br/>
"Who was the one girl it worked with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ximena. They went around for awhile, the start of their junior year. But he got tired of her. She was needy as fuck." He snorts softly. "Are you going to eat?"<br/>
<br/>
So you unwrap your own food. Number Five asks you a few questions of his own, not about Kim but about the other doppelgangers and what you expect from them. You tell him that you want to make one or two more substitutions, and then you'll start making real plans. But you do tell him that you want him to DM you as complete an account as he can of the drug trafficking at school. He tells you that will be no problem, on account of Gary Chen was probably Kirkham's best friend. "Only guy that Kirkham thought of as a friend, anyway," he says with a mild sneer.<br/>
<br/>
Later, out in the car as you're buckling up, he says, "Did you want to hear that talk again?"<br/>
<br/>
"What talk?"<br/>
<br/>
"The one Kirkham used to give all the girls. The one he gave you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Sure." You turn to listen.<br/>
<br/>
Even behind his shades, Number Five's expression is taut. "Kim," he says, "I want you to know you're a really special girl. I mean, everyone I know thinks you're special, but I do too, and especially. I want you to know that. If you ever need anything, and I mean <i>anything—!</i>" He waves the toothpick at your face. "You just ask. I will drop everything, and I will come help you. You understand? Tell me you understand."<br/>
<br/>
"I understand," you croak back, despite yourself.<br/>
<br/>
A small smile creases his face. "Good. That makes me feel really good. It makes <i>me</i> feel special too." He kisses a fingertip, and touches your cheek.<br/>
<br/>
Then the animation fades from his face, and he turns to gaze impassively forward, almost as if he's put himself into Sleep Mode.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113553131112121111511
author_id: seuzz
title: Taken in Trade
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Number Five is fast about getting his report to you, and you read and digest it long before you go to bed. The marijuana market at Westside turns out to be a lot smaller than you (or Kim) would have imagined.<br/>
<br/>
He confirms that Gary Chen has a near monopoly on the trade at Westside. Chen buys the same amount each month (nine ounces) from an outside party (who, and at what price, Chen won't tell anyone), most of which he himself sells. But he sub-deals to George Mendoza, Tanner Evans, and Joe Thomason, selling them each three-quarters of an ounce a month at a profit to himself but at a discount to the market price, and he would outright give three-quarters of an ounce to David Kirkham to use or sell as he saw fit. Number Five estimates that there are fewer than two dozen students at Westside who are regular customers of Chen's, almost all of them in the senior class.<br/>
<br/>
You reply with questions: Why did Chen give Kirkham free weed? Do the football players buy from Chen, or is there another source? Does Chen sell weed to Kelsey Blankenship for her weekend parties? And is Chen's operation about the size one should expect? To you, nine ounces hardly seems like something the administration should worry much about.<br/>
<br/>
These questions provoke a near Niagara of words from Number Five.<br/>
<br/>
The football team: It was Kirkham's understanding that they score their weed through the Warehouse. This maddens Chen; as he told Kirkham, <i>he</i> was supposed to be the exclusive supplier at Westside.<br/>
<br/>
Kelsey Blankenship: Wouldn't Number Four have a better answer?<br/>
<br/>
(So you DM her. She tells you that Kelsey got the weed from Martin Gardinhire, and didn't ask where he got it from.)<br/>
<br/>
Why did Kirkham get free weed? Number Five can't say for sure, but Kirkham acted like it was part of an implicit bargain. He made no trouble for Chen, steered business his way, sometimes acted as an enforcer, and helped "incentivize" (Number Five's word) the sub-dealers to move their product. In return, he got a little weed to deal on the side at pure profit.<br/>
<br/>
And as for the scope of the operation? Number Five prefaces by telling you he's going to answer as Kirkham would have.<br/>
<br/>
Gary Chen, he says, is a scared, lazy, dumbass shit-for-brains. There's at least five times as much money to be made at Westside as he's making, but he's too much of a chicken-shit to go after it, so he sticks to the same few senior-level stoners. He won't even try talking to juniors or underclassmen, and he too often scares potential buyers off. Chen's attitude (Kirkham felt) is that of a salesman, not a businessman. He's given himself a quota (nine ounces) and that's what he moves, not an ounce more. Kirkham was Chen's friend, but he was contemptuous of Chen's ambition and ability to sell inside the school. He would occasionally try telling Chen how much better he could do, and how to do it, but Chen would only tell him to fuck off. <i>Chen is fucking up a potential goldmine,</i> Number Five concludes.<br/>
<br/>
That's all very interesting, and you ask him to sketch a business plan for expanding the trade. You also ask him to find out where Gardinhire gets the weed for Kelsey's parties, and to discuss whether Chen should be replaced with a duplicate, so as to bring the trade directly under your team's control. Number Five promises to have answers for you by Thursday morning.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Wednesday is even calmer than Tuesday on the social front, possibly because there have been no new bursts of speculation about Kim and Steve Patterson, and maybe also because last night you asked Number One to dedicate herself and her friends to tamping it down. <i>Good idea, boss,</i> she replied. <i>It's giving Steve too much cred. Chelsea would hate it and wouldn't want to lose face in front of Kendra and Gloria.</i><br/>
<br/>
Before your third-period study hall you go in search of Will Prescott at his locker. He does a little double-take, which makes you realize how long it's been since you've seen and talked to him. "I've got a little job for you," you tell him. "I'd really appreciate it," you add with a secret smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you say, uh, boss."<br/>
<br/>
"Cut out the 'boss' shit," you murmur. "You want to do this for me because I'm Kim Walsh, and you think I'm adorable."<br/>
<br/>
He blushes to his roots and looks away.<br/>
<br/>
You hike your pack into your arms and unzip it, pulling out a baggie that contains some small chisels, a strip of metal, a piece of paper, and a key. "I copied down some runes for you, the ones we need to make those memory strip things," you tell him as you hand him the bag. "Carve them onto the strip, and have them ready to give back to me tomorrow morning. Or tonight, if you can manage it. You can go out to work in the basement if you want, that's what the key is for."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing, uh, Kim." He glances around. "What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're getting rid of people and putting copies in their place. You know. I've got a couple of new ones to tell you about. Try to get this done by—"<br/>
<br/>
"Six o'clock."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Can you have it done by—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Kim," a voice sounds behind you, and you jump and wheel. "Whoa," Keith Tilley says. "Did I scare you?"<br/>
<br/>
Will says, "You'd scare anyone with that face."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's so pretty it scares me sometimes too. It scare you, Kim?" Tilley waggles his eyebrows at you.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him, then frown with liquid concern. "Oh, I've been meaning to ask you, Keith, are you still having trouble with Seth?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes widen and his expression freezes. "What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"She means, dipshit, is Seth still taking your underwear and running it up the flagpole?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!" You cover your mouth. "He didn't really—!"<br/>
<br/>
Keith flips Will off over the top of your head. To you he says, "Oh, yeah, sure, Javits gets frisky with me, but, you know, it's all just fun." He shrugs. "You know. Guys razzing each other."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Seth!" Will shouts at someone off behind Tilley. "If you're looking for Keith—!"<br/>
<br/>
Tilley jumps and spins like a lathe, and is flushing a deep crimson when he turns back around. "Very funny," he sneers.<br/>
<br/>
"No, seriously, don't you see him?" Will waves to someone, then points to Keith.<br/>
<br/>
"I got to get to class anyway," Tilley snarls. "I'll see you at lunch, if I still feel like fucking you up," he tells Will as he brushes past.<br/>
<br/>
"That was fun," Will chortles at you. "Hey, is Javits one of the guys we're going to— Uff!"<br/>
<br/>
A hand shoots out from the crowd and shoves Will against his locker so hard that he bounces. David Kirkham slides in and grabs your replacement by the throat.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you making all this noise for, Prescott?" he hisses. "It not loud enough out here for you, you gotta go yelling? Some of us got migraines, motherfucker, and you know what they say about misery loving company." He rabbit-punches Will hard in the gut, and your doppelganger folds up with a grunt.<br/>
<br/>
You are tempted to say something to stop it, but decide that it's karma for the way he was jerking Tilley around.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are in the office after school when you are interrupted by Mr. Staufford, who leans in to ask if you have anything new to tell him about "that thing I asked you about."<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, then crook your finger. He steps into the conference room and pushes the door almost closed behind him.<br/>
<br/>
"I've done some asking around," you tell him, "and as near as I can tell, there's only about twenty students on campus who are, um, buying anything."<br/>
<br/>
He snorts. "There's more than that number on the football team."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's a separate thing, from what I've heard. They get theirs from, um, outside the school. Are you from Saratoga Falls?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow. "No, I'm from Maryland, originally, but I've heard about some of the hangouts around here. You're saying that's where most of it comes in from?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's where the football guys get it. There's hardly anyone else on campus who, um, buys."<br/>
<br/>
"Someone's feeding you a line, Kim. I can count—"<br/>
<br/>
But then his gaze goes distant, and he frowns.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll have to get back to you,"  he says. He looks pissed off as he opens the door and steps out of the room. He bumps into someone and mutters an apology, then disappears down the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
The person he bumped into does a double take at you. "Hey Kim!" Jack Li exclaims. "Are you running things up here now, too?"<br/>
<br/>
There's something very warm and relaxing about Jack Li's grin. When he smiles, it's like you feel relief.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, I hope I never have to run <i>this</i> place." You giggle. "What are <i>you</i> doing up here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Waiting for some friends to get outta theater practice. We're going to the dog park."<br/>
<br/>
"Who owns a dog?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one." His smile turns sly as he leans against the door jamb and twists a fingernail into it. "It's the college dog park, and the girls say it's a great a place to scope out cute college guys. Wanna come?"<br/>
<br/>
You tell him you can't, and he pleads a little before giving up. "Well, I gotta go bug Mr. Sagansky about some band stuff. I'll try kidnapping you later." He winks and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Maybe you will, Jack,</i> you think with a smile of your own, <i>because you just made the list.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's a list you compiled earlier in the day, after polling your agents: <i>We have to duplicate and replace someone with a lot of friends and tons of social contacts. Give me your number one choice.</i>. Two of the replies were for the same girl—Catherine Muskov—but with Jack's name you have five to pick from.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135531311121211115115
author_id: seuzz
title: Jumping Jack
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You are awake early on Thursday, with that sense of compulsion that is becoming very familiar. Some decision has been made, and there is now nothing to do but put it into effect. You DM Number One at her x2z account, and text Will, telling them both to meet you at Panera for breakfast no later than 7:30. In Number One's case you are sure of her getting the message, but you call Will directly at 6:45. He sounds grumpy and sleepy when he answers, but quickly becomes alert and pliant, and promises to get to the restaurant in time with the items you tell him to bring. You yourself are there by seven, and spend the extra time with a cup of coffee and the business plan Number Five sent you last night.<br/>
<br/>
He has three recommendations. The first would be to establish a more flexible supply source, either by negotiating an arrangement with the supplier to replenish supply as inventory runs out, or by finding alternate sources of supply to augment those of the regular seller. The goal would be ensure that supply matches sales rather than limiting sales to actual supply.<br/>
<br/>
This would then allow for his second recommendation, to aggressively market the product to a much wider clientele, rather than to the "same old fucking stoners" that Chen has been servicing. In particular, he recommends pushing hard into the junior and sophomore classes.<br/>
<br/>
The third recommendation would be to drop Chen's sub-dealers and if possible cut out Chen himself, because of the way they scare potential customers away with their surly, hostile attitude. In place of the old, small, network of sellers, he suggests using a much larger number, most of them casual users themselves. These would be motivated by selling them an inventory not so large that they become abusively desperate to sell, as Chen and his current network are, but one too large and at too great a cost for them to themselves absorb.<br/>
<br/>
As for replacing Chen with a duplicate, Number Five is ambivalent. It would allow the business to be reorganized (something he doubts the real Chen would be willing to do) but he is not certain of Chen's usefulness otherwise. He has no head for business, no real social presence of his own, and though good in a fight he is basically just a "rat fucker." Instead, Number Five recommends trying to wrest the business from Chen, and to replace him with a duplicate only if there's no other way to get hold of his trade.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Number One arrives a few minutes early with a bright and eager expression, and is all blonde dimples as she settles in across from you with a coffee. She listens intently as you tell her that you have decided to replace Jack Li with a doppelganger; her expression tightens when you describe the ultimate place for him in your plans; but she is all smiles again after you have explained that <i>she</i> wants this too. You are still outlining how the replacement will be carried out when Will arrives. There are bags under his eyes, and even after he's got his coffee he looks a little dazed. It's on account of the early hour, he insists as he hands over the metal strip and the mask that you told him to bring. He asks who they're for, gets kind of a vacant look when you give him the name, and then says, "Oh, him." <br/>
<br/>
You also tell him to keep his after-school schedule clear and to stay up at the school, for there will be a meeting afterward to introduce him to the other "numbers." When he asks who the "numbers" are, you tell him that will be cleared up then, and that he is to answer to the name "Number Six." "I thought I'd be more than a number to you, boss," he mutters, but you tell him he'll understand.<br/>
<br/>
With that accomplished, you all head to school, though you linger in the parking lot long enough to glue the metal band into mask, using the paste you brought from home.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You bend the rules third period to get Jack Li's schedule from the secretary. You find that you could talk to him during your lunch period, but decide to intercept him at the start of his sixth-period class instead, so as to give Number One time to have baited the trap with a text. So you're loitering in one of the gym basketball courts when, to your surprise, Jack comes out of the boys' changing rooms already in shorts and a t-shirt.<br/>
<br/>
He looks very good in them. Jack is tall—a touch over six feet—with dark hair pushed up in a handsome pompadour, and regular features that relax easily into that beautiful smile. He has broad shoulders and a good chest that tapers down to a flat belly. But his legs are his best feature, being strongly muscled with a good shape; but he is attractive because all of him is in proportion to this best feature.<br/>
<br/>
Is it a disappointment to add that he is gay, and confidently so?<br/>
<br/>
He looks puzzled when he sees you waiting, but he's got a pleased smile as he comes up to greet you. "So who are you looking for, Kim?"<br/>
<br/>
"You." You grin back. "How was the dog park yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Heh! Nice. It would'a been more fun, but Susie had to blurt out we were all from Westside, so no one got flirty with us." He cocks his head. "We could go back this afternoon if you're interested."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "If I can get out of something."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
Your reply startles him. "How did you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"She told me about it. She texted me to <i>make sure</i> you didn't blow her off."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. "Okay, Kim, now you're putting me in a tough spot, 'cos basically that's what I was planning to do." He glances over as Parker Stott, looking almost as good in his gym clothes, but with legs that are less appetizing for being so hairy, comes out.<br/>
<br/>
"What if I told you there's money in it?"<br/>
<br/>
Again, Jack looks startled. "Money?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's going to try to get you to do it for free, but there's money in the Spirit Club budget, so if you play hard to get, there'll be some money in it for you."<br/>
<br/>
"What's this about money?" Parker asks as he joins you. "Bruh, you got one of your girlfriends so horny she'll <i>pay</i> you for it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea Cooper," Jack tells him with no enthusiasm. Parker falls into a coughing fit. To you, Jack says, "How much? It'd take a lot to get me to do something with Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude!" Parker gasps. He is almost as red as a tomato as he recovers from his fit.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't do it for Chelsea, Jack, do it for the other girls. You like the other girls, don't you? Eva and Jessica, Lin, Cindy—"<br/>
<br/>
"Bruh, how many girls are trying to jump your—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, man," Jack says. He is clearly irritated. "Chelsea wants me to teach the cheerleading squad some dance moves."<br/>
<br/>
Parker's jaw drops. "Come on, you're not going to say no!"<br/>
<br/>
But Jack remains sour and obdurate. "At least meet with her," you plead. "If you really don't want to do it— Here's what we'll do. I'll go with you to see her, she'll make the pitch, you tell her you'll think about it, and then you and me'll go off to talk, and if you still don't want to do it, I'll be the one to tell her you turned it down. How's that?"<br/>
<br/>
Jack sucks in a deep breath. "You're trying so hard, Kim," he says as he exhales, "that I can't say no."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not trying to <i>make</i> you."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes you are. But I'll go." He punctuates his promise with a half smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks!" You tickle his belly through his t-shirt. It feels rock-hard, but he flinches a little, and his smile widens into a cheeky grin.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your last class of the day is all the way on the other side of school from the gym, so you have to rush to get from the one to the other after the final bell has rung. Fortunately, the basketball court is empty for the moment, so there's no one to see as you mount the stairs for the loft.<br/>
<br/>
Number Five is already waiting for you inside, his expression flat and empty, save for the toothpick that he casually chews; you gesture him to wait behind the door while you take the mask from your bag and set it on a crate near at hand. Neither of you speak, and the time passes quickly as you sink into a daze that is interrupted only briefly when Number One arrives. She glances around in surprise, then steps over to the side to watch the door with you.<br/>
<br/>
More time passes, and you become alert again only at the sound of footfalls outside; you also become now aware of other sounds as well: the squeak of rubber soles on the polished wood of the court below, and hoarse shouts. But you ignore those.<br/>
<br/>
There's a knock at the door, and Number One says, "Come in!"<br/>
<br/>
The door opens and Jack Li steps in. He's forced a cheery smile onto his face. "Hey," he says as he pushes the door closed behind him. "I'm—"<br/>
<br/>
Number Five grabs him from behind as you pick up the mask. Jack's face flushes a deep red just before you shove the mask onto it.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122111355313111212111151151
author_id: seuzz
title: A Gang of Seven
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Number Five grunts with the strain, then slowly lets Jack Li's unconscious body slide to the floor; he pulls Jack's backpack off, hurls it to one side, and shifts the body onto its back, leaving Jack to stare, with a frozen expression of shock, up at the rafters of the loft.<br/>
<br/>
"Go outside and watch practice," you order Number One. "Head off anyone who it looks like might be coming up here, unless it's one of us. Text me when practice is over and the coast is clear."<br/>
<br/>
"Will do, boss." She steps over the unconscious Jack Li, and Number Five twists the lock shut after she's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"That was an excellent report you sent me last night," you tell him as he squats next to your latest victim. "From what you said, it sounds like Jack's replacement will make an ideal sub-dealer."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd know that better than me." He twists around to peer into Jack's face. "He's prettier than Guangli, anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"That's because he's nicer. And he knows everyone and everyone likes him. His duplicate will be very useful to us."<br/>
<br/>
Number Five looks up. "Have you figured out what all this is about?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's about following orders."<br/>
<br/>
"Whose orders?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mine."<br/>
<br/>
Number Five shrugs. "You're the boss, boss."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Listen to me," you tell the new doppelganger when its eyes pop open. There's a look of alarm on its face, and its disordered hair also gives it a wild and frightened appearance. "You must believe what I tell you to believe," you continue. "You are who I tell you that you are."<br/>
<br/>
This is the standard speech you have evolved to program the doppelgangers on awaking, and the new Number listens intently, eyes locked with yours, even as Number Five helps him onto his feet.<br/>
<br/>
"Your name is Number Seven," you continue. "You are not Jack Li. You were never Jack Li. You are nothing and nobody. You were always nothing and always nobody. Now tell me who you are, and what you are."<br/>
<br/>
"I am nobody, and I am nothing," the doppelganger says. That look of alarm fades as he speaks, leaving an expression of emptiness and distance behind.<br/>
<br/>
"I made you, from ash and fire. What are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I am nothing, made from ash and fire."<br/>
<br/>
"You serve me. That is your purpose. What are you, and why are you here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I am nothing but ash and fire, made to serve you."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I am Number Seven."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. You are nothing, Number Seven, but I have given you Jack Li's face and form, and his memories and his personality, so that you may serve me. Jack Li is gone, but I have given you everything that was his. His mind, his face, his friends, his family. You will take his place. The world will look at you and see Jack Li, and you will act as Jack Li. Everything he had is now yours, that you may serve me." You smile. "Enjoy the life I've given you."<br/>
<br/>
An alertness creeps into the duplicate's face, and his nose seems to quiver as he looks around. He catches sight of a mirror in the far corner of the loft, and after an inquisitive glance at you, he moves over to to peer at his reflection. He shifts on his feet, studying the lines of his body, and lifting the front of his shirt up to run fingertips over the ridge of his stomach muscles. He drops his shirt, and straightens and settles his clothes. He pinches his chin and pushes his face from side to side as he studies it. He catches you looking at him in the mirror, and says, "This is who I am?"<br/>
<br/>
"This is is who you're pretending to be. This is who you have replaced."<br/>
<br/>
"I like it," he says. He pulls a comb from his back pocket and resettles and reorders his hair, patting it into place. He settles back on his heel, and tries out a smile. It's a little tentative at first, then fully relaxes. "Though I guess I should say Jack Li liked it. Yeah," he says. "This works for me."<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to make it work for all of us."<br/>
<br/>
"Doing what?" He is still absorbed with admiring himself in the mirror, but he must have caught sight of your expression, for he turns with a slightly guilty look. "Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay. There's just some things we need to explain to you. I told you, you are Number Seven. That is Number Five over there by the door. I'm Number Two. I'm in charge."<br/>
<br/>
"Wouldn't that make you Number One?" he cheekily asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I want to talk to Number Seven, not Jack," you chide him. His expression doesn't go slack, but it does lose all its animation. "Chelsea Cooper is Number One, but I'm in charge. Steve Patterson is Number Three. Kelsey Blankenship is Number Four. Will Prescott is Number Six. They are the same kind of thing as you, fire and ash, made by me to replace the originals."<br/>
<br/>
Number Five has been watching Number Seven, but he now shifts his attention to you. "There's a Number Six now? When did this happen?"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter. But as of this morning Will Prescott is Number Six. When you're not alone with him, be in character with him, just like you were at his locker yesterday. The same goes for you, Number Seven. When you're with us, the other Numbers, don't be in character. It's not professional," you add, somewhat to your own mystification. "But when anyone else is around, or you think someone else might be watching or listening, be your original. You absolutely cannot be caught out."<br/>
<br/>
"As you say, boss." He pats his hair.<br/>
<br/>
"We are the first seven. We will make more of us, duplicating and replacing others in the school. I will ask you for ideas, but I will make the decisions. When I ask you for an idea, it will be for a specific purpose. Like yesterday, I told the others I wanted to replace someone popular, someone with a lot of friends and social contacts, and asked for the best names they could come up with. The told me Catherine Muskov, Andrea Varnsworth, Laurent Delacroix, and Jelena Petrovic. But I'm the one who decided on Jack."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks. Most of those suggestions are pretty good, by the way, but you'd have got a bum steer in Andrea. People think she's popular because she's hot. But her 'friend zone' is actually pretty small."<br/>
<br/>
"The boss didn't ask you," Number Five says. Number Seven twitches an inquisitive eyebrow at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Number Seven understood me," you tell Number Five. "He knew I wanted to hear what he thought." You cock your head, and ignore the buzzing inside Jack's backpack. "Jack was very good at reading people. That too will be useful to us. Who would you have recommended, given those instructions?"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone popular with a lot of social contacts, you mean? What kind of contacts? Band people, theater people? It makes a difference."<br/>
<br/>
"Just answer the question I set them."<br/>
<br/>
"In that case." His gaze briefly goes distant. "Marc Garner."<br/>
<br/>
You glance a Number Five, but he is impassive as ever behind his shades.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm glad we picked Jack," you tell Number Seven.<br/>
<br/>
"So am I," he says. "Though I'd probably have had fun being Marc or Catherine."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have any orders for us now?" Number Five asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Not until practice is over and we can meet with the others. Until then, handle any social media you have to," you tell them as you take Kim's phone from your pocket. "In character, remember. And if that was anyone asking about Jack's meeting with Chelsea," you tell Number Seven as he squats beside Jack's pack to take out his phone, "tell them you told her you'd think about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Is the offer real?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But there will be another one."<br/>
<br/>
The three of you settle in silently to work on your phones, paying no more attention to each other than to the sound of basketball practice in the gym below.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Practice ends at a little before five, but Number One texts to say that there are still too many people on the bleachers and the mezzanine for you and the others to chance being seen coming down. You tell her to catch Gordon as he's coming out from the changing room, and convince him to go off and wait for her elsewhere. <i>Will try, boss,</i> she promises.<br/>
<br/>
In the event, it is nearly a quarter after five before you get the all clear, by which time it makes just as much sense to have the meeting in the loft. You text the others and tell them all to come up.<br/>
<br/>
You make the introductions, both by number and by name once everyone is present: Number One, Chelsea Cooper. Number Two, yourself, Kim Walsh. Number Three, Steve Patterson. Number Four, Kelsey Blankenship. Number Five, David Kirkham. Number Six, Will Prescott. Number Seven, Jack Li. None of them react, except Number One, whose eyes can't stop shining with amusement, and Number Six, who darts his eyes from one face to the other with a slightly disbelieving expression.<br/>
<br/>
"This is our secret student council," you tell the gathering. "We will be adding more, but we are the ones who will be running things. Number One, you head the cheerleader squad and are in charge of school spirit. Your job is to set the tone for what is and is not popular in school. You will advise us on who and what we should make popular or unpopular, and will use your own influence directly on the job." Number One grins to herself.<br/>
<br/>
"Numbers Four and Seven, you will follow Number One's lead once it's been established, but you will also set an agenda among your own groups, which I will give. You will also gather and relay news to Number One and to each other, as will I.<br/>
<br/>
"Numbers Three and Five, you are enforcement. Anyone who needs to be physically hurt, you will do the hurting. In addition, Number Three will control access to the loft and use it as a carrot to get people to comply with us. Number Five will be in charge of developing an improved narcotics operation for the school.<br/>
<br/>
"Number Six will passively listen to feedback and reaction to our operations."<br/>
<br/>
"Those are your general orders. Now I've got some specific instructions for each of you."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221113553131112121111511511
author_id: seuzz
title: A Day Like Any Other
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Friday morning.</i> A week since you started started expanding your control of the school. Two weeks since you were called out to the gym to help Chelsea Cooper with a crisis. The cloudy, rainy weather has broken, and though it is in the forties as you hurry across the parking lot for school, the sun is shining in a partly cloudy sky.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Kim!" You turn in answer to the shout. Jack Li grins at you from a row over, and lofts his hand high to wave. Beside him, Brianna Kirschke and Elle Moore look over to smile at you. "Ignore that text I sent you last night!"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you change your mind?"<br/>
<br/>
He playfully claps his hands over Brianna's ears. "I can't tell you or these two will go around spoiling it!" he yells as she giggles and tries twisting away.<br/>
<br/>
"That sounds like you changed your mind!"<br/>
<br/>
"Eh, not yet, but Chelsea called me later and we had a long talk! She said she had another idea, and—! Well, I told her I'd think about it! This time I mean it!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's her new idea?"<br/>
<br/>
He smiles and touches a finger to his lips. "I can't tell you either, or <i>you'll</i> spoil it! But seriously, forget that text! I shouldn't have said those things anyway!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds good!"<br/>
<br/>
Jack gives you a thumb's up, then leans over to say something in Brianna's ear. She titters brightly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Second period.</i> Steve Patterson slouches in his desk, his long legs stretched out so far his feet almost touch yours, even with them folded up under you.<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you being such a bitch?" he asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Because you decided to be a bastard," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"What was I doing that made me a bastard?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to talk. You had other ideas."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought <i>you</i> had other ideas."<br/>
<br/>
"And when I told you I <i>didn't</i> have those other ideas, you wouldn't stop."<br/>
<br/>
He rolls his eyes. "If I thought you only wanted to talk, I would have told you to text me."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>said</i> I wanted to talk!"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought that was code."<br/>
<br/>
"Where'd you get the idea that 'talk' was code for what you wanted to do last night'?"<br/>
<br/>
He shoots a side glance at Phoebe Beauchamp, who is trying to disappear inside her desk. "From all the gossip I was hearing, it sounded like when you said 'talk,' it was code for—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about!"<br/>
<br/>
"Talk, or the thing that 'talk' is code for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Phoebe! Would you explain <i>in English</i> to this idiot that just because he reads online that we're <i>fucking</i> each other, that doesn't mean I want to fuck him in real life!" You turn to glare back at him. "Which is what I <i>wanted</i> to explain to you last night!"<br/>
<br/>
All of this is said, as best you and he can manage, in Spanish.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
David Kirkham and Mindy McAdams are making a meal of each other in the doorway of the art classroom, and you have to wait until they break apart before you can try squeezing past. But Kirkham stops you with a hand even as he continues nibbling at Mindy.<br/>
<br/>
At last, with a slap to her butt he sends her inside, then nudges you back into the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanted to tell you, Kim," he says, breathing the warm scent of cinnamon onto your cheek, "that I caught a couple of cocksuckers talking shit about you before class. I gave 'em a lecture in manners."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus, David, what makes you think I want that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, i guess that was selfish of me," he says. "I wasn't thinking of what you wanted, I was thinking what I wanted. And what I wanted, after hearing what they were saying about you, was to rip one of their ribs out and use it to dig out their spleens."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, that's ... flattering ... in a way that makes me want to throw up."<br/>
<br/>
"One of them was Martin Gardinhire."<br/>
<br/>
"What? No, Martin wouldn't—!"<br/>
<br/>
"I think he was. Anyway, it sounded like was talking about you, and the things he was saying—"<br/>
<br/>
"You must have misheard."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. He told me some other interesting things, though, after I took him somewhere to explain why he shouldn't have been saying those things about you."<br/>
<br/>
"If they're really that interesting, you can DM me."<br/>
<br/>
He rolls the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "I rather tell them to you mouth-to-ear."<br/>
<br/>
"Eww. DMing is fine."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs and pads away even as he takes his phone out. He's got a really nice butt, you realize to your distress.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Fifth period. Outside on the quad, with Jenny and her friends.</i> "The trouble is, I can't <i>prove</i> it's Amanda making those posts. But even if I did, it wouldn't matter." You take another bite from the apple, and swallow it with a sour face before handing it back to Jenny. "I don't want any more," you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"You need to eat," Jenny urges. "You didn't bring any lunch!"<br/>
<br/>
"What you need to do, Kim," says Carson Ioeger, "is dump a tray of mystery stew onto Amanda's head."<br/>
<br/>
Jenny twists around to pop him on the shoulder. "That won't stop her from posting nasty things about Kim and Steve!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but if Amanda's going to shitpost anyway, Kim might as well have fun giving her a good reason to."<br/>
<br/>
"You know," says Caleb Johansson, who has brought Will and Keith along, "if the rest of your friends knew Amanda was doing that, they might make her stop."<br/>
<br/>
James makes a face. "Caleb wants Kim to narc," he translates for the group.<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't matter without proof," Carson retorts. "Without proof, they'd take Amanda's side. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably."<br/>
<br/>
"This is why I never go onto x2z," Jenny fumes. James gives her a look to the back of her head, and mouths <i>Liar!</i> at her. "It's such a cesspit!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, look at the bright side," Carson sighs. "You're <i>not</i> knocking around with Patterson. Are you, Kim?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Good. 'Cos then you don't gotta worry about getting splattered when James and me launch our next wacky scheme."<br/>
<br/>
You glare at him, and turn to the others. "Will? Caleb? You'll let me know if these guys actually start doing something stupid, won't you?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Sixth period.</i> Amanda, Anthony Kirk, Geoff Mansfield, and a bunch of other people you skipped out on at lunch are already in English class, and you have to walk past them to take your customary seat toward the back. You glance over after pulling out your books, to see Chelsea Cooper, two rows over, tapping intently into her cell phone. "Chelsea," you call. "Chelsea!"<br/>
<br/>
She glances over, and does a double-take of distaste when she sees it's you. But you persist: "Jack told me you talked some more to him last night."<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look of alarm, and shows you her teeth before half turning her back on you. When you twist back around in your own seat, Deanna Showalter, two seats up and one row over, is almost falling out of her desk as she turns to stare hungrily at you. She points to you, to Chelsea, and then mouths, <i>Jack Who?</i><br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. She turns around in a pout.<br/>
<br/>
A minute later a text from her pops up on your phone. <i>If its abt jack lie teaching dance to squad i know abt it already.</i> You look up to see her quivering inquisitively at you. You shake your head. "Talking about someone else," you mutter at her. Her eyes pop, and you can almost see the smoke pouring from her ears as she tries to come up with another "Jack" who would have business with Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Last period.</i> Amanda and Kelsey are lazily perched in their desks when you arrive. Kelsey lifts her lids only enough to look up and over at you. Amanda doesn't even do that.<br/>
<br/>
"Missed you at lunch today, Kim," Kelsey drawls in a sing-song.<br/>
<br/>
"Liar," says Amanda.<br/>
<br/>
"I felt like getting some fresh air. All that rain last week was depressing."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Como esta Steve?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"What? I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you have him for second period? That Spanish study hall or whatever it is?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Sure."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Como esta Steve?"</i> Kelsey repeats. "I heard you were practically throwing tamales and enchiladas at each other." Amanda, in an undertone, says, "The lady was protesting too much, methinks."<br/>
<br/>
"It sounds like you heard all about it from Phoebe."<br/>
<br/>
"But everything you guys said was in <i>Spanish,</i> Kim!" Kelsey complains. "Phoebe can hardly follow along in English!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not any of your business, Kelsey."<br/>
<br/>
Her jaw drops.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you wanted my help, Kim!" she squeals. "You know, all those horrible things that people are saying online about— And it sounds like you told him off! So what did you <i>tell</i> him?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's all we could talk about at lunch, Kim," Amanda says. "That and the way David Kirkham dragged Martin off behind the portables and punched the snot out of him. You know, instead of worrying so much about what people are <i>saying</i> about you, Madame Student Council President, maybe you should be doing something about what that psycho is <i>doing</i> to people!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That was Friday at school. On Saturday and Sunday you rest and let the others play inside their new identities. Some of it leaves video evidence, such as Number Seven busting out some jaw-dropping dance moves at Legends on Saturday night, and Steve in the dark corner of someone's back yard, getting first his hands and then his tongue tangled up in what the poster insists is Phoebe Beauchamp's naked breasts.<br/>
<br/>
But when Sunday night comes, you send out a general directive, summoning your minions to a nine o'clock meeting in the Westside gym, for reports on their progress in fulfilling their first set of directives, and so you can give them new ones.<br/>
<br/>
You're ten minutes late, because Kim's father needed your help rebooting his Kindle, and the traffic lights were against you. So there are six cars and trucks parked next to the gym when you arrive. You park next to them, and march to the side door to let yourself in.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211135531311121211115115111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Night Like None Before
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The gym is plunged in darkness as you enter, and your crew are just shapes in the echoing gloom; only Patterson's duplicate is distinguishable by his height. They are standing silently in a wide, loose circle, as though preoccupied by their own thoughts, but they turn to watch as you approach. None of them speak as your eyes flick from one to the other to the other.<br/>
<br/>
Steve Patterson. Chelsea Cooper. Kelsey Blankenship. David Kirkham. Will Prescott. Jack Li.<br/>
<br/>
"Report," you crisply demand. "Number Three."<br/>
<br/>
"Got it," he says, and hands you a key on a loop of wire. "I went straight to Lynch, told him he had to give it up, and that if he wants into the loft, he'll have to go as Gordon's guest from now on." He hesitates. "Gordon's going to make trouble about it, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Number One, make Gordon understand that you don't want Jason in the loft, ever again. Tell him that you and Number Three—Steve—are on the same page, and that you won't stand for it if you ever catch Jason up there again." To Number Three: "Your next job is to start turning everyone at the alpha lunch table against Lynch. Make it clear that anyone who does something to or against him gets your approval. Anyone who takes Lynch's side is going on your shit list, permanently. Number One, the same order for you. Get Kendra and Gloria to help."<br/>
<br/>
The Chelsea duplicate nods and smirks, but— "Gordon won't like that, either," Number Three warns.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon will be one of us soon. Anyway, you're just conducting a kind of test. Anyone who goes against Jason is someone we can trust to follow our lead. Anyone who doesn't— We'll have to think about using ... other means."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah." An icy, mirthless smile appears on the duplicate's face. "I get it."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course you do. Number One, what do <i>you</i> have for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told Coach Tesla that Michelle wants to quit the squad, and I had Kendra and Gloria explain to Michelle that she wants to quit the squad, and what would happen to her if she didn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you give her a positive reason to quit, or did you just threaten her?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's doppelganger looks discomfited. "I didn't think—"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell her that if she quits, you can set her up with any guy at school. If we have to, we can replace him with a substitute who'll do as he's told."<br/>
<br/>
"Then that's what we'll have to do," she says, "if it's Michelle we're trying to set up with a guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Then that's what we'll have to do. How long until the squad is reorganized?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks at Jack Li's double. "I can have Number Seven on the squad by the end of the week."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Number Four?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told Karl I wanted to try a threesome," Kelsey's duplicate says, "with him and his friend Justin. I managed to turn it into a fight like you ordered, but I think Karl's going to give in."<br/>
<br/>
"Really! Well, if he does, then that's the way we'll have to play it. But it'll have to be Karl who does the asking, not you, so pester him until he talks to Roth. Number Five?"<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham's duplicate takes the toothpick from his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"I told Chen I wanted to start buying fifty spliffs a month, to deal on my own account. But he said no. He says I'd take sales away from him and his crew. I told him we could divide up the territory, told him he could put his regular customers off limits to me, but he declined."<br/>
<br/>
"'Declined'?" you query.<br/>
<br/>
"As in, he told me to go fuck myself. Then he gave me the name of someone I could fuck myself with, and where, and how often, and who I could then get to fuck me after the first guy got done fucking me."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyebrows go up, and when you feel the Patterson duplicate's gaze on you, you turn to him. "Comment, Number Three?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like we need to make a substitution there. And you know, a duplicate in Chen's spot could be ... useful."<br/>
<br/>
"Which is why I wanted Number Five to try taking his business over for us. If that won't work— Well, I'll consider making a direct replacement. For now— Number Five, you're working on a plan for a new distribution network. Who, specifically, would you try adding as a sub-dealer?"<br/>
<br/>
"Justin Roth," he says, glancing at Number Four. "He's one for sure, as long as we're talking about him. He uses, but he doesn't buy from Chen's crew, and he stops a lot of other people from buying. But he could sell a lot for us, and get a lot more people into the product. Andrea Varnsworth is someone else who could help out that way, by giving it cred."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think you could talk them into sub-dealing?" He shakes his head. "So you're proposing we replace them?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess. Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
You shake your own head. "We need a better payoff than that, if we're going to put in substitutes. Otherwise, we'd just duplicate Chen and take the business over direct. For now, draw up a detailed list of potential sub-dealers—ones who won't have to be replaced by one of us." You turn to the next in line. "Number Six."<br/>
<br/>
"Carson and James haven't told me anything about their latest scheme or target."<br/>
<br/>
"Do they have one?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so."<br/>
<br/>
"Then keep in touch with Caleb and Keith, Jenny and Paul. See if they've picked up any hints." The copy you left in your place nods, and you turn to the last of your lieutenants. "Number Seven?"<br/>
<br/>
Jack Li's duplicate pulls a folded paper from his shirt pocket.<br/>
<br/>
"I underlined the key people, and put a box around the groups they basically lead," he explains as he hands it to you. "I also connected the leaders," he says, tracing a fingertip along a line that connects two names, "showing who's friends with who, and who ... isn't. I went ahead and added Jack's name and groups and relationships, so you can decide where and how I can help." He glances at Kirkham's doppelganger. "And I'm with Number Five. Justin Roth is too perfect a candidate for us <i>not</i> to replace him with a duplicate. He should be at or near the top of any list. The same with Andrea."<br/>
<br/>
You point to the paper. "Justin doesn't have a lot of names with his. And what's this 'I' next to his name?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's for 'influencer', same as Andrea and Catherine and some others."<br/>
<br/>
"You told me Andrea doesn't have a lot of social contacts."<br/>
<br/>
"But she's an influencer. She and Justin don't have a lot of contacts, but they each influence a lot more people than I could write down. In Justin's case, for instance, there's a lot of guys, a lot more than Karl, who would jump into a three-way with him, and because of <i>him</i> more than because of the girl."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? Number Five, you're closer to Roth. Is that true?"<br/>
<br/>
The Kirkham duplicate sucks meditatively on the toothpick. "Yeah, I think that's right."<br/>
<br/>
"Would <i>you</i> jump into a threeway, with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do whatever you tell me, boss."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, would it be believable? Would Kirkham have jumped into a threeway with Roth?"<br/>
<br/>
He spreads his feet and folds his arms.<br/>
<br/>
"That's two different questions," he says. "Kirkham would'a been interested in a threeway with Roth, sure, if Roth offered. But the girls— That's where the believability comes in."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, would he have kept it a secret, or would he have bagged, tagged, 'n bragged? For Kirkham," continues his replacement, "it always came down to cred. Everything, but especially getting laid. Like, if the girl was hot enough, or skanky enough, sure, he'd'a bragged about being in a threesome with Roth, because it would'a got him cred. Because him and Roth, they'd'a been sharing someone hot, or if she was a skank, he'd tell 'em Roth was in the mood to bang 'n hang some roadkill, and wanted a friend along to share the fun. Either way, it would'a looked like him and Roth were on the hunt together, for sport. And hunting with Roth <i>always</i> gets you cred." He glances at Jack's duplicate. "That's what Number Seven is getting at, why we wanna take out Roth and put in someone who can look and act just like him, except following <i>our</i> orders."<br/>
<br/>
"I understand. But go on about Roth and threeways and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, the hot girls and the skanks, those are the extreme. The ones in the middle, the not hot, the not skanks— Kirkham would'a worried about those cases, some of them. I mean, he'd'a still done them, because doing a threesome with Roth would get him cred with <i>Roth.</i> But he'd've made <i>fucking sure</i> that no one else heard about them. Because in those cases, it would'a looked like he was licking the crumbs off'a Roth's ass."<br/>
<br/>
"I see. What about Number Four? Where does she fall on this ... spectrum?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks at the Kelsey duplicate, chews on the toothpick, then shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"In her case, no, not even with Roth asking. It would'a looked to him like she wanted Roth, not him, and that he, Kirkham, was only riding along on Roth's invite. There wouldn't be any cred there, only the risk of him looking desperate, or even like he was gay for Roth. Now, a three-way with Number Four and Hennepin—" He catches himself and cocks his head at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Go on. And never mind that it's Number Four. What if it was him and the real Kelsey?"<br/>
<br/>
"A three-way with Kelsey and Hennepin? That he'd've gone for, fast and hard. 'Cos he'd'a been the alpha, letting Hennepin squeeze in only 'cos he was feeling generous. And he prob'ly would'a ended it by punching Hennepin in the eye and kicking him out. That's what I'd do, if you sent me into a room with them, and it was up to me to improvise in character."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Interesting. I'll keep that in mind. Okay, is there anything anyone needs to inform <i>me</i> of?" you ask the assembly. There are murmured negatives. "In that case, you're all dismissed."<br/>
<br/>
They turn to march off, almost in unison, for the door.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


