# chapters

path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111121222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Infiltrator
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You run through a couple of scenarios in your head. "I'll play Mitchell's part. But if you're playing Huber, someone will have to cover for you by playing me." You grunt. "We'll have to get Johansson in on this."<br/>
<br/>
"He won't want to," says Will.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll tell him it'll give him an inside look at Salopek. He's been wanting that." You chew your lip. You're worried about the memories in the mask. You had no trouble getting into Gordon's memories, but Gordon and Caleb said they had trouble when they put on masks. What if you can't get into Mitchell's mind? What if Gordon and Caleb can't get into Huber's and yours?<br/>
<br/>
"Look, we're gonna hafta wait to do this tomorrow," you say. "You and Caleb will need a chance to get used to the other guys' masks. So let's do it like this." You outline a plan, and Will agrees.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You check on the new spell on your way home after practice. It's gone out, but it relights. It astonishes you that it's taking so long to finish -- so long that you are seriously wondering if it's gone wrong. The cracks in the earth have only grown wider. One large crack up the center has torn it almost in half, and two smaller ones at each side suggest the thing is falling apart even as it solidifies. The consolation is that the longer it takes -- maybe forever -- the longer you will get to hang out with Chelsea Cooper as her boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
So when you see Will later that night, you agree to his suggestion that you'll switch back to your old lives when the spell is finished.<br/>
<br/>
At your club meeting, Caleb grumbles at being dragooned into the scheme to humiliate Cameron, but as you anticipated he goes along with it because it will give him a chance to play you at Salopek, which is a company he's been ardent about joining for a couple of months now. To give himself time to gain your memories, he'll have to play you at school too, which means he'll have to start playing you tonight.<br/>
<br/>
So Gordon disrobes and removes the mask he's been wearing of you.<br/>
<br/>
It gives you a funny feeling to see him -- the real Gordon -- sprawling there. You've long since grown used to having his strong legs, brawny arms, slab-like pecs, and all the other pieces and parts. So when you look at him, you have to remind yourself that you're the copy, and he's the original.<br/>
<br/>
You end the awkward scene by covering Gordon with Caleb's mask, and the real Caleb takes your mask and clothes into the bathroom. The plan is for "Caleb" to tell his mom he's going to Will's house for the night; but while "Will" returns to the Prescott household, Gordon will go to the elementary school and change into Cameron's Huber's mask. He'll have to spend tomorrow there too, until school lets out and he can leave to execute your plan. <br/>
<br/>
"Pretty fucking weird," he mutters after he's woken and is gathering stuff to entertain him in the basement.<br/>
<br/>
"What? Being Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, did I say that out loud? I just meant -- " He looks you up and down. "That guy who left. I'm used to seeing him in a mirror."<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself redden. "I kind of felt the same way when you took the mask off," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
A smile twitches onto his face. "It's been a nice vacation, but it's probably a good idea that we're going back. But I, uh -- " He's been blushing too, and it deepens to a furious scarlet. "Well, we'll talk about it later," he mumbles. "Text me tomorrow when it's safe to go find Anne." You and he bump fists.<br/>
<br/>
When he's gone, you buckle down to finish your homework. When the lights in the main house are out, you lock the bedroom door, pull off Gordon's mask, and put on Sean Mitchell's, so that you can figure out how you're going to pull off your end of the scam.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I knew that place you moved into was going to be a problem," Patterson says with a scowl.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, deal with it, fucker. My landlady needs some help, and it's worth missing a single practice to keep her happy."<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't have that problem if -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up."<br/>
<br/>
You and Patterson hold each others' eye and ignore the noise of the other guys changing into their workout clothes; they're making enough noise that you can tell they're trying to avoid this fight between their official team captain and his unofficial co-captain. <br/>
<br/>
It really does piss you off that Patterson is making such a shit storm about your missing one afternoon of post-class basketball practice. But you should have predicted it, from the fragmentary comments he's dropped recently. And he's got a point. Since moving into the Johansson house and getting a job at Eagle Foods, he's been seeing a lot less of you. In a way, it's touching the way Steve Patterson is sore at not getting to hang out so much with his best friend. But at the moment it's really annoying.<br/>
<br/>
He relents, though, as he has to. "How long is it going to take?"<br/>
<br/>
"Long enough that I'll have to miss the whole hour. If you're not busy after supper, though, can I swing by to hang out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, of course." And with that the tension between you evaporates. "Yo, come on, move it," Patterson shouts to the team. "That means you too, Richards."<br/>
<br/>
You occupy yourself with switching out items between your bag and your gym locker, and switching them back, and switching them back and forth a few more times, until the locker room finally empties. You duck into the facilities to relieve yourself. Then, when you're sure you won't be disturbed, you sidle over to Sean Mitchell's locker. You wrote down the combination last night, and quickly twirl the lock open.<br/>
<br/>
The memories inside his mask were many days out of date, so the contents of the locker have changed, but it still has the basics you need to pull off the impersonation: shorts and a muscle shirt and ratty shoes. You shove these into your bag, close his locker, and take off. You glance back into the gym as you leave, but Steve has everyone drilling hard already, so no one catches your eye.<br/>
<br/>
Mitchell's mom works, so there's no car out front when you get to his place. It's not too far from where Caleb lives, and is in the same slightly run-down section of town. It's not a place of happy memories, and you remind yourself that you're not getting into Sean Mitchell's life, you're only pulling off a kind of prank, so you don't have to pick up and dwell on the guy's backstory. You park a couple of blocks away, behind a tiny strip center, and hunker down in your seat to change masks.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Despite what you promised yourself, you feel a weight like a lead cape about you when you resurface inside Mitchell's mask. A dead father and a dead brother -- a twin no less -- in the space of a couple of months. It says something really positive about Sean Mitchell that he's able to deal with really crappy recent circumstances without cracking. You don't know him personally, but nothing Gordon told you about him suggested a kid dealing with such serious issues. From inside his head, you're only aware of a determination not to buckle, and to take and enjoy each day as it comes.<br/>
<br/>
And here's an extra afternoon he can enjoy without experiencing or remembering. Not that it will matter to him. As you strip off Gordon's clothes and pull on Mitchell's, you pause long enough to reflect on the happy fact that this part of the scam shouldn't rebound against Mitchell at all. Only Huber will get hurt.<br/>
<br/>
Except that Mitchell likes and respects Huber. You pause again with one shoe on and one shoe off, then brush the qualm aside. Once dressed, you exit the car, briefly stretch, then jog to your new home.<br/>
<br/>
The door is locked but you know where the spare key is and let yourself in. Luckily, Sean's mom is sufficiently old-fashioned that she keeps a land-line. That's the only way you could have made this thing work out. You dial Huber's number. "Hey man, you busy," you ask when he picks up. "'Cos I need some help."<br/>
<br/>
"What's up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I need a ride." You slide open a drawer and push around some junk until you find the family's emergency credit card. "Errands for my mom, and my truck's got a problem."<br/>
<br/>
"You're joking, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why would I joke? You know I don't joke about my truck. Something's gone wrong with the starter and I gotta have it towed, but I got these errands to run."<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't you at work?"<br/>
<br/>
"I would be, man, but my truck's crapped out on me. So I called in, told them I had to miss the afternoon, but I also got these errands for my mom. Can you help me out? You're not with Anne, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm hanging out with Chris," he says, and you let out a sigh of relief -- that was the one tricky spot you couldn't plan for. There are low murmurs on the other end, then Huber comes back on to tell you he'll pick you up in twenty minutes.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks, man. I'll make it a little easier on you. You know that dry cleaners on the corner of Orlando and Harvard? Okay, trust me, there is one. I'll be waiting there. I can walk there now and it'll save you making an extra stop. See you in a few, I owe you big, buddy."<br/>
<br/>
You hang up and permit yourself a half-smile of satisfaction before dialing Caleb Johansson's number. The voice that answers is identical to the one of the guy you just finished talking to. "All set," you tell Gordon. "If you can figure out how to get to Anne's, the way's clear for you."</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321121111212221
author_id: seuzz
title: Wednesday in a Car with Cameron
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You are wearing some of Sean Mitchell's actual clothes, but they are the ratty kind that will look a little odd for a guy who's left the gym behind. You retire to his bedroom to change.<br/>
<br/>
It all feels very natural and familiar to you, just as it felt natural and familiar the first time you put on Gordon's mask. It isn't just that Sean has the usual kind of furniture: the bed, the desk and chair, the dresser, the posters and pinups and ribbons and old toys scattered around. You <i>know</i> these things, and the corner of the bed sags in the expected way when you drop onto it to pull off your shoes. Almost without thinking, you bend over to look under the bed to see if a semi-clean sock has rolled under there, which would save you the trouble of opening the third drawer in the dresser to pull out some clean ones. (There isn't.)<br/>
<br/>
You change into fresh underwear, clean blue jeans, and a light purple shirt that stretches tightly across your brawny, barrel-chested torso. Sean is both a wrestler and a football player, which gives him muscles on top of muscles. In the bathroom, you wet a comb and slide it through your short blonde hair, brushing it sideways and patting it down. You have wide-set eyes and an easy grin with straight teeth, and when you smile all the muscles in your face relax into an expression of warm geniality.<br/>
<br/>
It's a face that Sean shared with his brother, Taylor, up until a few months ago. A hard twinge runs through you. <i>I don't have a twin brother,</i> you remind yourself. <i>Never did. Has nothing to do with me.</i><br/>
<br/>
You pause, and blink, as you stare at yourself.<br/>
<br/>
The resemblance between the brothers was so close that even their parents couldn't tell them apart many times. With this mask, you don't just look like Sean Mitchell, you look just like the late Taylor Mitchell. And a vaguely disquieting thought comes to you.<br/>
<br/>
When this scam is over, Cameron Huber is going to discover that he supposedly spent the afternoon with his girlfriend, Anne Starkey. He's going to deny it, strenuously, and he's going to insist he spent it with one of his friends, Sean Mitchell. Sean Mitchell, meanwhile, will strenuously deny that he saw Cameron that day, because he was working at Salopek, and he'll have witnesses backing him up.<br/>
<br/>
What is Sean going to think when he hears Cameron say that he drove around all afternoon with a guy who looks just like Sean? Is he going to shrug it off as Cameron telling stories? Or is he going to wonder about the doppelganger, and who it might have been?<br/>
<br/>
You shiver, not on fear for your own plan, but a sympathetic pre-reaction to what Sean might feel.<br/>
<br/>
Then you shake it off. You have to meet Cameron. You lock up the house, return the key to its hiding place, and haul ass back to where you parked Gordon's Bug. You drop off Sean's gym clothes inside it, then go around to the front of the strip center to wait for Cameron.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what are we gonna do about Black and his gang?" you ask Cameron after he's picked you up. You're on your way to the farthest side of town on the first of several fake errands that will have you hitting all four of the most distant corners.<br/>
<br/>
"Like I said at lunch, let him think he's made his point and just go on."<br/>
<br/>
"Looks like they're building up to something pretty nasty."<br/>
<br/>
"Eh, fuck 'em. What else can they do? And there's nothing else we can do."<br/>
<br/>
You lean back and look over at Cameron Huber. He's another big dude, shaped a lot like Mitchell. A round torso with muscles you could bounce quarters off, rippling biceps, and powerful legs. His dark hair is trimmed very short, though, and has an oily sheen, as does the fringe of beard that runs along the line of his jaw to join a patch of beard on his chin. His nose is like the prow of a Mediterranean trireme. In fact, now that you think about it -- with Sean's brain; he's read books about this -- Cameron has a build and a profile that would look natural inside the crested helmet and bronze breastplate of a Greek hoplite.<br/>
<br/>
He catches you staring at him. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Just kind of surprised you're taking it lying down."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not taking anything lying down, Mitchell," he snaps. "We had our fun, we're taking our lumps. You knew what kind of shit Black would throw back at us."<br/>
<br/>
"So you gonna ignore him after this is done? Or are you gonna -- ? Oh!" You return the hard grin that Cameron's given you. "You're gonna wait till Black thinks he done, aren't you? And then you're gonna -- Come on, tell me!" You lean over and jab Cameron in the shoulder with a fist. "What are we gonna do to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell you when I know," he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna coordinate it with Arjis or Ansell?" Those are the chief guys on the lacrosse team. It surprises you, when you think of it with Sean's memories, that they cooperated with Huber to raid Chelsea's party.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, let those guys do whatever the hell they want." He concentrates on his driving for a bit -- construction has Twentieth Street in a bit of a mess. "What about Laurent and Brownie?" he asks. Those are the two guys who run the wrestling squad. "They said anything to you about this shit?"<br/>
<br/>
Obviously, you have no answer to that, and have to let Sean's instincts speak for you: "I don't to get 'em involved. This is your play, not theirs."<br/>
<br/>
This kind of talk continues all the way up to Northgate Mall, the area of your first supposed errand, and during the subsequent drives out to the municipal airport, down to a flower shop in Acheson, and then back out to a garage on the southeast part of town. From the talk you get a feel for the state of relations between the various sports teams at Westside.<br/>
<br/>
Regarding the track and tennis and swimming teams there is little to be said. So far as Gordon and Cameron are concerned, these don't even qualify as "sports" as there is no such thing as goal-making and goal-tending. Besides, they are mostly the preserve of non-jocks -- kids who balance out their academic careers with some mild exercise.<br/>
<br/>
The basketball squad, as you know from your time playing Gordon, is a sport apart -- ii's the most prestigious of the teams, and the one with the nastiest reputation: arrogant, bullying, thuggish, and exclusive. From what you learn as Sean and what you learn from Cameron, all the other squads are more or less united against them. Partly this is because of overlapping memberships -- guys like Sean, who are on both the football and wrestling teams -- but also because they all just hate the arrogance of the basketball players. It leaves you wondering how Gordon is feeling, as he gets an inside look at what Cameron Huber thinks and feels.<br/>
<br/>
For your part, a lot of the anger you feel for Cameron has evaporated. A lot of the fury seems to have been bound up inside Gordon's mask, and Sean's own fondness for the quarterback has mostly replaced it now that you've swapped masks. It's not enough to make you regret what you're doing, but you don't feel the same urgent drive to humiliate Huber as you did before.<br/>
<br/>
So you relax as you drive from point to point, chatting and laughing easily with Huber about classes and the teams and girls. He teases you about not having a girlfriend, which you deflect with some embarrassment. It's kind of relief, you find, to discover that a guy like Mitchell, who's got the stereotypical advantages -- he's well-built and good-looking -- has insecurities not too different from your own. You talk about some of the girls that he likes, and laugh and tease Cameron back about his girlfriend when he agrees with you about the merits of the girls you name.<br/>
<br/>
The final stop is a garage a couple of blocks from Mitchell's house -- the place supposedly where your truck is being looked at -- and since it's getting close to the time that the original and his mother will be getting home, you just have Huber drop you off. You duck into the shop long enough to borrow their phone to call Caleb's number. A dude with Huber's voice answers, and you find that everything went off without a hitch: he's just leaving Anne's place and will meet you at Caleb's in a little while. You then hustle back to the Mitchells' place and dive into it just fast enough to return the credit card and key. Five minutes later, you're crouched down in the Bug and are about to rip Sean's mask off.<br/>
<br/>
You stop right after tearing the shirt off when something catches your eye: the tattoo that Sean has on his bicep.<br/>
<br/>
It wouldn't mean anything to you, except that you have Sean's memories of where it came from. It's a new thing, something he had done as a memento of his brother. While going through Taylor's things, Sean found a sheet of paper with some oddball designs on it. He didn't know where they came from, or why Taylor had them, or even if Taylor had made them. But Sean had copied parts of them down and had them tattooed onto his arm.<br/>
<br/>
You don't get a clear image of them when you try to picture what Sean saw, and the tattoo on your arm is a partial image of one. But there is something very familiar about its look. It reminds you very much of the sigils that are in the grimoire.<br/>
<br/>
But how and why would Taylor Mitchell have had any of those sigils in his possession?<br/>
<br/>
You've got to get changed, though, so you fit your hand to your brow and remove the mask.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But the image of the sigils is playing in your head when you wake, like the remnant of a vivid dream.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211112122211
author_id: seuzz
title: An Embarrassment of Cameron Hubers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There is no excitement in rounding off the end of the adventure, only impatience at getting it all done. After getting Gordon's mask back on, you drive back up to the school and return Sean's gym clothes -- plus the ones that you took from his closet -- to his locker. Then it's back to Caleb's to help his mom put supper on the table. There's less prep than you expected: "Caleb's eating with his friend Will," Mrs. Johansson tells you. "So it'll just be us. You want to eat in front of the TV?"<br/>
<br/>
So that's what you do. You don't pay much attention to the game show that she puts on, for you're wondering how things went on Gordon's end, and why he and Caleb are being so chummy.<br/>
<br/>
You get an answer to the second question a little later when your phone dings with a text.<br/>
<br/>
They're out by the river. The new spell has finally run its course.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So why didn't you wait for me?" You glare back at Caleb's car. It's parked fifty yards off, and is barely visible in the dark. You sure can't even make out the figure in the back seat.<br/>
<br/>
"Just because you're the fucking captain of the basketball squad," Caleb retorts, "doesn't mean the world revolves around you."<br/>
<br/>
You push him off his feet, then help him back up again. "So what happened? How did we wind up with -- ?" You point at Caleb's car with your chin.<br/>
<br/>
You're at the river where you performed the spell, and it's a crowded scene, since you and Caleb and your double all drove out separately in your own vehicles. Will is looking about as freaked out as you feel, though he's less vocal. Caleb is acting like he's got the newest and bestest toy in the world. Which, in a sense, he has.<br/>
<br/>
"So I came out here when I got off work," Caleb says. "By the way, you totally need to quit that job and let me take it. I mean, it's kind of a shit job, but I know how I can -- I mean, so I came out here after work," he starts again after you frown at him, "and I saw the fire was out. So I tried relighting it and relighting it, and it never took. That meant it was done, right? That's what the spell said. So I ran back over to the basement to get the book, and, uh, Gordon was there -- " He looks between you and your doppelganger, who shrugs. "So we both came out here. We put the book on the thing, and the page turned, and we read what it said on the other side -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Which was what? Cut to the goddamn chase, Johansson."<br/>
<br/>
"We did some Googling around, and basically it's a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"A what?"<br/>
<br/>
"G-O-L-E-M."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a shit how it's spelled. What is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You sure got back in character fast, man. Ow!" Caleb jumps as Prescott punches him in the kidney. "A golem is like a magical statue," he says while rubbing the spot where your double hit him. "It's a thing of clay but it walks around and does work, like a robot. Only this one doesn't move unless you put a mask on it. If you put a mask on it, then it turns into a double of the person in the mask, only it's got to obey you."<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't obey <i>me</i>," Will grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"No shit. It obeys <i>me,</i> probably on account of it was my hair we used," says Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Was that one of the ingredients? It actually said, 'the hair of Caleb Johansson'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be an asshole, Will. Oh wait, look who I'm -- Ow! I don't mean it, dude," he yells at Will. "I'm just, you know -- "<br/>
<br/>
"He says that the ingredients included 'hair'," says Will, "and since he was the one putting the shit together, he just used his own."<br/>
<br/>
"So after you figured that out, you put a mask on it, which happened to be -- "<br/>
<br/>
"We had it with us," says Will. "I just got back from Anne's."<br/>
<br/>
You walk back over to Caleb's car, and bend over to peer into it. A naked Cameron Huber glares sullenly back at you. "What the fuck do you want?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's Huber all right. You question him, but he doesn't want to answer until Caleb comes over and orders him to answer you. He tells you all the shit that Cameron knows -- including his memories of what Gordon did that afternoon while wearing the mask -- and he's got Huber's personality as well. "You don't want your duplitron to be some kind of dead-eyed robot, right?" Caleb says when you mention this. "If you're going to, uh, replace someone with -- "<br/>
<br/>
He suddenly breaks off, and blinks hard. You and he and Will exchange glances. No one says anything for a minute.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, we're not replacing anyone," you announce in a very firm voice. "This is just, uh -- " A hot flush washes over your face, even as a chill rattles down your back. This is now seriously spooky magic. It was one thing when you could use masks to be each other, or to prank other people. But the idea of essentially replacing people with obedient robots is too much. "In fact," you continue, "let's get the mask off that thing and get it back to the basement."<br/>
<br/>
That's what you do, more or less, though Caleb waits until after he's ordered the golem down into the basement before he pulls the mask off it. Then it reverts to its original condition.<br/>
<br/>
Which is a pile of rough stone the color of whitish mud. You see now that those fissures you worried about were only part of the molding process. The crack up the middle split the thing to give it legs, and the cracks at the sides gave it arms. There is even a crude lump at the top where a head would be. You touch it and try to manipulate the limbs, but whatever movement the thing has comes from wearing a mask, not because the golem itself as articulable joints.<br/>
<br/>
You and your friends silently contemplate. Then you ask Gordon how his afternoon of being Cameron Huber went.<br/>
<br/>
"Went off perfect," he says, and his tone suggests he feels the afternoon's scam to be as anticlimactic as you do. "Anne was really surprised when I showed up and told her I wanted to make this gigantic public apology, but she went along with it. We printed up all those fliers -- " He pats his pockets, as though expecting to find one. "Then we went up to the school and taped them all over the hallways and lockers. She called some her friends out to help, so there's a lot of witnesses. Huber can't deny anything. Then at the end we started blasting out texts and putting stuff up on the social sites." He warms a little to the recollection, and a half smile tugs one side of his mouth. "Last thing was I recorded a video, all crying and shit, apologizing to Chelsea and to, uh, me for what he did." He pulls out his phone and starts tapping at it. "I can find it in a minute. We uploaded it right afterward, and blasted out a bunch more texts linking to it."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll look at it later," you tell him. You high-five each other, but it's a tepid congratulation. You're still distracted by the golem.<br/>
<br/>
So is Caleb, who has been frowning at it and tugging his lip. "You know," he says when he catches you and Will looking at him. "There is one way we could use this thing that wouldn't get anyone in trouble. If I put my mask on it, then there's be two of me."<br/>
<br/>
"God," you and Will gasp in unison. He gets to be the one that finishes the thought aloud, though. "You think that <i>wouldn't</i> be trouble?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb flips him off. "What I mean is, if there's two of me, we could split my life, with the golem taking the shitty part and with me taking the, uh -- "<br/>
<br/>
Your turn to insult him. "Yeah, what part of your life <i>isn't</i> shitty, Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, you know what I mean. Like, I could send it to school for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"And what would you do while it was in school?" Will asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. I guess I could hang out at the college library or down here."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Will exclaims with a laugh. "You could get twice as much studying done is what you're saying!" Caleb gives him a dirty look.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, speaking of replacements," Will says, and jerks his chin at you. "We said we were gonna switch back when that spell got finished. Looks like it's time."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. He's right. It's been a good run playing the life of Gordon Black and taking advantage of the good stuff. But now it's time to go back.<br/>
<br/>
But back to what? Even as Will takes his shirt off and kicks off his shoes, you fold your arms. "You know, it's been weeks since we've been ourselves. You've done a lot of stuff I don't know about. Same with you. You've got that job at Eagle Foods now, right? It's gonna be hard to fake our way through."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll manage it," says Will. He unbuckles his pants. "Come on, I wanna go see Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"You could put your own masks on," Caleb says. "Your mask has all the memories of working at Salopek. I know that, 'cos I had them all when I put them on. Wear your mask until you remember everything you need to remember."<br/>
<br/>
"That sounds kind of weird," says your soon-to-be-ex-double. "Wearing a disguise of yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"It's worth a try," says Caleb a little sulkily.<br/>
<br/>
You still haven't started disrobing, even though you need to. You're looking at the golem. And then you glance at Caleb. Earlier, you were talking about maybe the two of you switching. But the golem presents another way of dodging Salopek. You could send it in to do your work for you while you hang out somewhere else.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111121222111
author_id: seuzz
id: NK5TGLSGV
title: The Return of the Native
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You feel small, cold, and scrawny when next you wake, as though you have been stripped of all your meat, leaving you a thing of bones and skin on the other side. It is dark in the elementary school basement, and chilly. You lie on the table, shivering slightly, as someone or someones move and shuffle in the darkness.<br/>
<br/>
You don't even push away the mask that is resting lightly on your face.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually you do sit up though, and catch the mask your hands as it falls to your lap. Dim light filters in through the windows, just enough for you to make out the shadows of the piled up desks and cantered bookshelves. Someone is moving nearby. By his general shape and bulk, you know it must be Gordon, restored at last to his own body. He is dressing.<br/>
<br/>
Your clothes are near at hand, and without speaking you start to dress too. After you've got your shirt and pants on, and are reaching for your shoes, you become aware that Gordon is loitering nearby, watching. You pause, but still neither of you speaks. After a moment, he shuffles off toward the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
He is waiting outside when you emerge, hands on his hips, craning his neck to look up at the stars. Caleb is perched on the hood of his car, reading his cell phone. You pull the basement door shut behind you, and lock it, then the mount the last few steps.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah,</i> is what you'll probably say to Gordon, and <i>Yeah,</i> is probably what he'll say back.<br/>
<br/>
You remember everything that he did as you, and it's as real to you as if you had done it yourself. You're sure it's the same, but in reverse, with him.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb had suggested that you and he put on the masks of yourselves, which contain the memories of what you did as each other, and wear them so as to not feel lost when you returned to your old lives. It seemed like a weird idea—disguising yourselves <i>as</i> yourselves—but you tried it. The masks apparently had a different idea. You felt yourself go under when you put it on, and when you checked your phone after waking up, you found that you'd been conked out for twenty minutes or so. But you're not wearing the mask now. It was sitting atop on your face still when you woke up.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Like it gave me all the memories it was carrying inside itself,</i> you thought, <i>then popped back out. Clever.</i><br/>
<br/>
But you're not very interested.<br/>
<br/>
So when Caleb looks up and says, "You guys gonna be okay going home as yourselves?" you content yourself with a nod. You didn't even bring the mask back up with you, but laid it on the table next to the one Gordon left behind. "There anything else we need to talk about?" Caleb asks. "Okay, then I'm heading home." He waits a moment, then hops off his car and clambers in behind the wheel. A minute later, he's driving away.<br/>
<br/>
You and Gordon still haven't looked at each other, but you sense it when he turns to face you. For a minute you look at each other.<br/>
<br/>
Then he puts out a hand. You take it. His grip is strong but not crushing. You do your best to return it.<br/>
<br/>
He's still holding your hand when points at your face and says, "You're not going to fuck anything up for me while you're wearing that thing, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you're confused, thinking that he's referring to the mask you put on to get the memories. Then you realize what he means, and grin back. "Long as you promise not fuck up anything for me while you're wearing—" You point at his face.<br/>
<br/>
His smile is smaller than yours, maybe a little more wistful. He lets go of your hand, but knocks you sideways with a blow to your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, Jesus, sorry," he says. "I need'a stop doing that."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mind it. Really." <i>Not so much now,</i> you silently add.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a quick squint, then grunts. You feel yourself blushing harder as he shuffles over to his Bug and climbs in. Not until he's pulled away and you're in your truck does it hit you that he didn't even wish you goodbye.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Morning, champ," your dad says when he joins you at the table for breakfast. He's been calling you that for the past few weeks, ever since—<br/>
<br/>
Well, ever since it was someone else going home with your face. "Got any plans for this weekend?" he asks as he props up his iPad next to his plate.<br/>
<br/>
It's Thursday, and you never have weekend plans, except to shirk whatever jobs he's got for you. But that's something else that's changed in recent weeks. "No sir."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a quick glance over his half-glasses, and you wonder if he'll get used to that "sir" that's been popping up in your answers any quicker than you will. "Well," he says. "Keep your ear to the ground. I wouldn't want you missing out."<br/>
<br/>
"You have anything you need me to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not a thing." He flashes you a short smile. "Make hay while the sun shines."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes sir."<br/>
<br/>
That draws a slightly longer stare, and for a second he actually looks uncomfortable.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It was strange sleeping in your bed again, after so many weeks, even though you also remember sleeping in it last night. It was like a homecoming from being at camp—strange, but also instantly familiar. It was also strange because your room is much cleaner. The floor is clear, the desk neat, and carpet vacuumed. You remember doing all that, too, and you remember keeping it neat by cleaning it up each night before going to bed.<br/>
<br/>
It's strange, too, pulling into the Westside student parking lot, and to find the asphalt closer to your chin when you hop from your truck. You trudge off toward the school, but slow up when you see the orange VW Bug parked next to the breezeway entrance. <i>That's mine,</i> you think, then shake your head. You push away that instinctive claim of ownership, and find it's like ripping a sticky Band-Aid off your balls.<br/>
<br/>
You even pause in front of the gym doors. <i>Should I go in?</i> you think. <i>I never used to.</i> Even when it was Gordon wearing your face, he never went in to watch you at practice. But you do feel curious. Is Richards doing any better? What about Martin and Saxe, have they stopped getting in each other's way since you knocked their heads together and told them to cut it out? What is <i>Gordon</i> thinking, on returning to the squad? Does he find it working better, or worse?<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but what would he think if you went in now, to sit in the bleachers to watch? Would he resent it, thinking you've come in to spy on your work? Or would he think you were being a creepy perv, like an ex-girlfriend who can't quit her guy? Or what if he's in there now, wondering why you haven't stopped by?<br/>
<br/>
It gives you a prickling anxiety all over. You were in each other lives, taking care of them, fucking them up and then trying to put the pieces back right. You were sharing lives in a way that even married people don't. And now ...<br/>
<br/>
Is it going to feel like you're ex-es?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You looking forward to English?" Caleb asks as you fall into the desk next to him first period. He's tapping into his phone, and doesn't even spare you a glance.<br/>
<br/>
"Why the fuck would I be looking forward to—? Oh! Fuck you."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a quick, sidelong smirk. "Just checking if it was really you. Was wondering if maybe you and the other guy might be having second thoughts."<br/>
<br/>
You knead your forehead where the headache is starting to blossom. "I'm not having second thoughts. Or I wasn't, until—"<br/>
<br/>
Until Caleb reminded you that in fourth period you'll be seeing Cassie Harper, and that since last Saturday, when "you" had a date with her, she's been sitting with you in the classes you share and chatting up a storm.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you're going to cut it off, cut it off fast. I can only keep the hordes at bay so long."<br/>
<br/>
"What hordes?"<br/>
<br/>
He hands you his phone, and you squint at the screen. It takes you a moment to make out what he wants to you see.<br/>
<br/>
When you decipher it, you wish you hadn't. It's a thread on that shithole x2z.com social media site, speculating about how serious you and Cassie are.<br/>
<br/>
You're preoccupied the rest of the period, and don't hear a word Mr. Walberg says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're preoccupied in second period, too, and also on your way to third period. Usually you keep alert to the faces around as you push through the hallways, but today your eye is turned inward, and you don't see David Kirkham until after he's grabbed your shoulder and slammed you back hard against the row of lockers. You blink at him as your attention snaps back from a million miles away.<br/>
<br/>
"Hear you've been acting above your station, Prescott," he hisses at you.<br/>
<br/>
David Kirkham is shorter than you, but he's a lot stronger, and he might just be the meanest guy in the school. He hides his eyes behind tinted shades, and rolls a flavored toothpick around his mouth, between hard, white teeth. His voice is soft, but it carries all the menace of a cobra.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Acting above my station?</i> you wonder with a frown, and you also wonder why you're not shitting yourself.<br/>
<br/>
The answer comes in a flash.<br/>
<br/>
For the last three weeks, every time the Molester has come for you, you've hit him back with a flurry of rabbit punches that never put him down, but did drive him away. And the one time he did try to close on you, you kicked him in the balls and tried to gouge his eye. The last time you saw him, he flinched and turned away.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's "anti-bullying tactic" in action.<br/>
<br/>
Can you do it again, with Kirkham? You did it with the Molester.<br/>
<br/>
Except ... that was really someone else doing it.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321121111212221111
author_id: seuzz
id: NBBT7QYCN
title: The Punisher
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>That wasn't you who went after the Molester last week like a rabid weasel.<br/>
<br/>
But you remember what he did.<br/>
<br/>
And though the memories you picked up from Gordon are fading rapidly, you do remember how dangerous Kirkham is, and how you will have to hit him fast without warning.<br/>
<br/>
He's given you one advantage, though. He doesn't think you will actually hit back. Or, if you do, it will only be after screwing up your courage.<br/>
<br/>
So—<br/>
<br/>
You throw your left fist into his stomach and hurl your right fist up in an uppercut to his jaw.<br/>
<br/>
Something crunches, and your knuckles explode with pain. You can only hope you busted his teeth as hard as it feels like you've busted your hand.<br/>
<br/>
He only has time to grunt before you knee him in the abdomen and push him back until you can kick him in the balls. He hunches and—<br/>
<br/>
For a split second you think he's going down. But he throws himself headfirst into your chest. All the air explodes from your lungs.<br/>
<br/>
Then he's pounding you in the guts. You can only pound on his hard shoulders with your fists.<br/>
<br/>
It probably would have gone really bad for you except that a figure looms up and hauls Kirkham off you.<br/>
<br/>
You just have time to recognize the grim expression on Gordon Black's face as he lifts Kirkham and holds him in a headlock. Then you fly at Kirkham—despite your wheezes and the rippling pain in your stomach and torso—to punch him in the gut. He kicks and flails, catching you in the side of the hip with his foot, but you press in close to punch him until your arms and shoulders are sore.<br/>
<br/>
Dimly you are aware of guys shouting and girls screaming.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are all hauled down to the school office, of course, and arraigned in front of Mr. Sagansky's desk. The principal glares at your trio over folded hands.<br/>
<br/>
You and Gordon are sitting erect, but Kirkham, with an icepack to his cheek, slouches insolently in his chair. His glasses are gone—smashed, probably—and he stares back at Mr. Sagansky down the length of his nose from deeply hooded eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"I was provoked," he says.<br/>
<br/>
That's his answer to Sagansky's question as the principal tries to figure out the fight. Gordon: <i>I saw Kirkham punching Prescott, and went in to get him off.</i> Kirkham: <i>I was defending myself 'cos this little asswipe came at me.</i> You: <i>I went at him because he shoved me into a locker and threatened me.</i> And why did Kirkham shove you into a locker? <i>I was provoked.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sagansky looks at you. "I didn't say nothing," you protest. "I was just on my way to class."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit." Kirkham picks something off the tip of his tongue. "He's lying."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>He's</i> lying!" you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"I believe Prescott," Gordon says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm being provoked again," Kirkham says. "I don't like being called a liar. It offends me."<br/>
<br/>
Sagansky sighs. "You"—he points to Gordon—"can go back to class."<br/>
<br/>
"I have a study hall this period, sir, I'd prefer to stay."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you can wait in the library. You"—he points to Kirkham as Gordon heaves himself to his feet—"will have detention for two days for allowing yourself to be 'provoked'. And you"—he points to you—"will also get detention for two days for responding violently to a verbal threat." He opens a desk drawer and takes out a pad of paper. "You will both serve detention in the conference room after school today and tomorrow until five o'clock. Bring your homework or something to do."<br/>
<br/>
He scribbles on the pad, and tears off the sheet, then scribbles on the pad again before tearing off another sheet. He looks exasperated as he hands you each a sheet to sign, then takes them back in exchange for your student IDs, which he had collected at the start of the session. He picks up Gordon's ID (which he forgot to return to him) and makes a face as he dismisses you and Kirkham.<br/>
<br/>
You get to the door first, but not fast enough to get out before Kirkham is kicking at your heels. "Fuck you, man," he whispers as he follows you down the hall toward the front office. "You're so fucking dead, you're a fucking dead man walking, and I'm gonna fuck you—"<br/>
<br/>
You spin on him. "You wanna try it again," you hiss, pressing up close on him. "Here, now, get another day of detention together?"<br/>
<br/>
"You ain't got the balls, not without your boyfriend—"<br/>
<br/>
You cock a fist, but catch yourself as Sagansky appears in his doorway behind Kirkham. The principal frowns hard at you.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right, you dickless little fuck," Kirkham hisses at you, "you don't got the fucking balls—"<br/>
<br/>
"And how did he provoke you this time, Mr. Kirkham?" Sagansky barks from right behind him. Kirkham leaps and spins, bumping into you. His ass touches your hand—<br/>
<br/>
And without quite understanding how or why you do it, you fish into his back pocket and pull out his wallet. Quickly you slip it into one of your own pockets.<br/>
<br/>
Sagansky lays a firm hand on your shoulder while glaring at Kirkham. "Get to class," he orders. A sneering smile jerks onto Kirkham's face, and he turns and struts off toward the exit. Sagansky's grip on your shoulder tightens until he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
The principal sighs as he releases you. "I'm sorry, Mr. Prescott," he says. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault. But I have to play it fair according to the evidence. If you hit him first—"<br/>
<br/>
"He pushed me first."<br/>
<br/>
"But he says you provoked him. I have to give him detention for pushing you, and you detention for escalating. Next time, restrain yourself, and let <i>him</i> take the punishment."<br/>
<br/>
"Can I go now?" you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. We'll call your parents, tell them that you'll be staying late."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Such a fucking lot of bullshit,</i> you seethe as you stalk off. You've never <i>not</i> "restrained" yourself, and what's it got you? When has <i>anyone</i> who hassled you, hit you, or put you on the ground, been punished? Kirkham and the rest are invisible to the administration, the only way to get them punished is to <i>actually hit back,</i> and then you get it as bad as they do.<br/>
<br/>
Worse, you get to spend your detention <i>in the same room as him at the same time.</i> How fun is that going to be? Sagansky is punishing you <i>worse!</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hey."<br/>
<br/>
You almost jump out of your skin at the gruff voice. But it's only Gordon, leaning against a wall, arms folded. "Sagansky kept you extra? I saw Kirkham going by."<br/>
<br/>
"He had to separate us. We almost got into it again, right in the office."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh." Gordon sucks on a tooth, and gives you a very steady look. "Don't expect me to say I'm proud of you. You just did the minimum."<br/>
<br/>
"I know. But thanks for jumping in back there. Except—" You make a face.<br/>
<br/>
"Except what? You'd feel better if I didn't?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Maybe." You wince as you touch one of the bruises on your abdomen. "Actually, I know lots of ways I'd probably feel worse."<br/>
<br/>
A little smile creeps up the side of Gordon's face.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on," he says. "This is my study hall, and <i>you</i> don't wanna go to Career Planning anyway, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To your astonishment (and no little pleasure) he leads you into the gym and up the creaking stairs to the loft. The door is partway open, and he kicks it all the way open to usher you in.<br/>
<br/>
A familiar, loathsome voice chortles from inside the loft. "Hey man, yer late. What happen, Chelsea get her tittie in wringer or—"<br/>
<br/>
Jason Lynch's face and expression both falter as you follow Gordon in. For a moment he stares at you. Then a gleefully malicious smile pops onto his face. "Oh, man," he sniggers. "And what's <i>he</i> up here for?"<br/>
<br/>
"A beer and to hang out. Want one, man?" Gordon asks you as he kneels beside the dorm fridge.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, thanks." You dodge Lynch's face as his expression turns flustered.<br/>
<br/>
"Naw, really, man," he says to Gordon, "what we got planned for this little—?"<br/>
<br/>
"A beer, and to hang out." Gordon tosses you a beer, and cracks open one for himself. "We'd hit the weight deck, all three of us," he says as he holds your eye, "'cept Prescott here's a little too bruised."<br/>
<br/>
"Whadja do to him?" Lynch asks. Then, as Gordon turns to glower at him, "I mean, what's he bruised from?" He starts to look harried.<br/>
<br/>
"He told Kirkham to go fuck himself, and when Kirkham didn't, he started fucking up Kirkham himself."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch's jaw drops, and he turns to stare at you.<br/>
<br/>
"No!" He cackles. "This little piss-shit?"<br/>
<br/>
"This little piss-shit," Gordon confirms.<br/>
<br/>
Lynch looks you up and down, and sneers. "Fuck!" He steps up close, his eye glinting with challenge. "You don't look like no bad ass to me."<br/>
<br/>
You're too tired, too bruised, and (frankly) too frightened to act on the challenge. So you just cast a weary glance at Gordon before replying, "What would I look like if I <i>looked</i> like a bad-ass?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pssh!" Lynch says, "Well, you wouldn't look like—!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not what you look like," Gordon says. "It's what you do."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck.</i><br/>
<br/>
You set your beer down with a sigh.<br/>
<br/>
"Can we just do it quick?" you wearily ask Lynch as you ball up a fist.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211112122211111
author_id: seuzz
id: QXQPXNJ4K
title: Gone to Heaven
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Lynch bursts into a shrill laugh, and raises his hands over his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey now, back off there, cowboy!" he says. "I'm just jerkin' yer—! Hoo!" He leans back on his heels and grins at you. "I'll say it again. You don't <i>look</i> like no mean-old, Kirkham-fucking, ball-busting bad-ass. But if Gordon vouches for you—  Whew!"<br/>
<br/>
You drop your fist and pick up the beer. There's a hard tremble in your chest and limbs, and you struggle not to show the strain you're feeling.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott's a friend of Johansson's," Gordon says.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh," says Lynch. Then: "Oh!" His eyes narrow. "That mean you're friends with Ioeger and Lamont?"<br/>
<br/>
"I hang out with 'em sometimes," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
Lynch looks at Gordon, who says nothing, then looks back at you. You swallow a mouthful of beer—nasty, cheap stuff that doesn't taste as good as you remember when you had Gordon's tongue and taste buds—and say, "I know you guys have a problem with them, but I don't have a problem with <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon laughs, and Jason, after a moment's confusion, whinnies along. "Well, ain't that nice!" he exclaims. "You don't got a problem with us! Well, I'm glad of that!"<br/>
<br/>
"So." Gordon fixes you with a direct glance. "I was gonna ask you tonight, but I'll ask you now. How're you getting along with that girl you were telling me and Johansson about? What was her name? Cassie?"<br/>
<br/>
That tremble, which was starting to subside, starts up again. "I haven't seen her yet today."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch hoots. "You got a sweet thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what Prescott's trying to find out," Gordon answers. There's a gleam in his eye that unsettles you.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you want my advice," Lynch starts to say, when you burst out with, "She's kind of a chatterbox."<br/>
<br/>
There's an awkward silence. Then Gordon says, "Kind of like you, Lynch."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Me?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Isn't Steve always telling you to shut up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, Stevie can suck my—"<br/>
<br/>
Taunts fly between them. You drink some more of your beer, while wondering what to say about Cassie. While wondering what to <i>do</i> about Cassie.<br/>
<br/>
But after a few minutes, Gordon cuts things short by slamming back the rest of his beer and nudging Lynch. "Come on," he sighs. "I wanna loosen up a little with some weights. Just to get the kinks out, you know. You can hang out here, man," he says to you. "In a day or two, when you're feeling better, you can start working out with us, if you want."<br/>
<br/>
"I got a class this period."<br/>
<br/>
"What class?" Gordon asks, ignoring the look of confusion on Lynch's face.<br/>
<br/>
"It's just a dumb Career Planning class, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"You got that one too, right?" Gordon looks at Jason.<br/>
<br/>
Jason's confusion deepens. "Yeah, but I got it seventh."<br/>
<br/>
"What've <i>you</i> got seventh?" Gordon asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"A study hall."<br/>
<br/>
"Like me and Lynch have now." He slaps Jason in the chest. "Monday, after Prescott's feeling better, skip your seventh and take him up on the deck and show him how the machines work."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch's eyebrows rise almost to his hairline. "Uh ... Sure!" He looks at you with something like fear.<br/>
<br/>
You're too thunderstruck to reply, and just stand stupidly there as Gordon brushes past. He pauses to grab and squeeze your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"You got lucky with Kirkham today," he says. "You're gonna have to put on some mass, if you wanna convince him to leave you alone." He releases you. But before he goes out the door, he says, "You can hang out here till the end of the period."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch looks you up and down with an expression that mingles bafflement, wonder, and maybe something a little like respect.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You do hang out in the loft, looking through the old-timey porn stash and surfing the internet on your phone, but you're gone before the bell rings. Gordon and Jason are nowhere to be seen, which is something of a relief. But then it's on to English.<br/>
<br/>
You think it's your imagination when you get some looks on entering the classroom, but when you see the expression on Caleb's face, you know they're for real. He leans over as you drop into your desk and hisses, "I don't wanna get punched out. So am I going to have to stop walking with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't <i>my</i> idea!"<br/>
<br/>
"So what was it, an out of body experience? Or maybe it was someone who only <i>looked</i> like you."<br/>
<br/>
Before you can retort, Cassie Harper comes flying into the classroom. She throws herself into the desk in front of you and leans over the back to gaze into your face with a wet and worried look.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God, Will, are you okay? I heard you got into fight with David Kirkham! I mean, I'm totally sure it was his fault, I mean it's not like you go around starting fights and all, but did he hurt you? I heard you both got sent to the principal's office, like, what is this, second grade, but it doesn't matter if you got in trouble, did you get hurt?" She shudders. "The things I've heard about him—"<br/>
<br/>
And this is the girl that Gordon has set you up with.<br/>
<br/>
You do like Cassie, probably more than most other girls. Most girls, in your experience, are one of two kinds. Either they are snooty bitches lording it over everyone else, like Kelsey Blankenship or Chelsea Cooper, or they <i>want</i> to be over everyone else and so they act like it; or they are tart-tongued "rebels" who are sour because they can't lord it over everyone and make themselves feel better by making the people around them miserable. Cassie is one of the few of a third kind: normal people who will talk to you if they want to, and won't if they don't, and don't get wound up in the gears over whether they <i>should</i> or <i>shouldn't</i> be talking to you.<br/>
<br/>
The only trouble is that Cassie's always got her <i>wants to talk</i> lever stuck in the "ON" position.<br/>
<br/>
But she is cute, with a pale, creamy complexion with a blast of freckles; slate-blue eyes; and a long red hair. She is small and pert, with a smile that seemingly can't help leaping onto her face every time she looks at you.<br/>
<br/>
You just wish she didn't talk so much.<br/>
<br/>
You let her run on, waiting for her to stop and let <i>you</i> talk, but the pauses at the ends of her sentences are never long enough to let you even open your mouth before she's off again, with tangents, asides, questions, her own answers to her own questions, and then tangents and asides off those answers and questions.<br/>
<br/>
You give her about a minute or two of this, and then—<br/>
<br/>
You vaguely remember Gordon doing some like this, when he was in your mask.<br/>
<br/>
—you sit up and reach out to touch the side of her face with your fingertips.<br/>
<br/>
Her mouth instantly snaps shut, and her eyes go wide.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm okay, Cassie," you tell her. "You seem worried."<br/>
<br/>
She draws a deep breath. "Oh, I'm not worried, Will, I mean I am, but you seem alright—"<br/>
<br/>
You touch her again, and again she catches her breath with a small shudder. "You should see the other guy," you say.<br/>
<br/>
A blush washes over her forehead and nose. "Really?" she squeaks.<br/>
<br/>
"They had to get him an ice pack."<br/>
<br/>
She giggles. "Oh my God!"<br/>
<br/>
You've been holding her gaze all this time, and you hold it still as you brush back a bit of her hair.<br/>
<br/>
"I got hurt," you tell her, and with your free hand you touch one of your bruises, and wince. "But I'll be okay tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm so glad, Will! I—"<br/>
<br/>
But she lapses into an open-mouthed silence as you brush her hair back again. Her eyes are shining as she stares into yours.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you should turn around now," you tell her as Mrs. Gladstone goes to the front of the room.<br/>
<br/>
Cassie shoots a quick glance over her shoulder, then turns around in her chair. Before fulling settling in, though, she turns to give you one last, wide, twinkling smile.<br/>
<br/>
You look over at Caleb. He covers his face with his hands, and slides down so far in his desk it's like he's trying to sit on his shoulder blades.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Cassie resumes her chattering ways at lunch, which you take with her and Caleb and Keith, but she isn't quite such a motormouth, and actually shuts up when someone else starts to speak, and when she asks questions she listens to the answers. It makes you more curious about hanging out with her, and more optimistic. There's no more talk about Kirkham at lunch, but during Calculus, Carson Ioeger—who you've not seen yet today—leans over as he brushes past, to warn, "Don't get too full of yourself, man."<br/>
<br/>
But even Ioeger's jibe, Cassie's awe, and Gordon's generosity in the loft, are nothing compared to the surprise when you trudge off toward the office after last period, for the first of your two days of detention. You round the corner, and stop in shock when you see your <i>dad</i> standing just inside the office door.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit,</i> you think. <i>I am dead. All that kissing up Gordon did when he was playing me, it's all down the toilet.</i> With head low, you shuffle into the office.<br/>
<br/>
Your dad looks around when you enter, but though his expression is grave, he doesn't look pissed. He gestures you up to the front desk, where Mr. Sagansky is standing.<br/>
<br/>
"Will," he says to you, "I was just explaining to your principal that detention would interfere with your after-school job. He's agreed to schedule it <i>around</i> your work. You have to take two days over the next month, but you can pick the days so we can reschedule you for work. Is that okay with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Er ... sure!" you croak.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," he says. "We need you today. Do you want your first detention tomorrow, or some other day?"<br/>
<br/>
Now, that's a question. If you reschedule for another day, you'll completely dodge sharing a detention with Kirkham. But would that make you look like a pussy?<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111121222111111
author_id: seuzz
id: J7MYCLSJ6
title: Explosions, And the Lack Thereof
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"You don't have decide right away," Mr. Sagansky says while you're still hesitating. "Tomorrow's soon enough. Just stop by the office on your way in tomorrow morning."<br/>
<br/>
"Thank you, sir," you say. The principal nods, and he and your dad shake hands and murmur small pleasantries before parting.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're so surprised by the calm way your dad takes your suspension that you have almost forgotten to be afraid. But you do feel a hard, internal flinch when he says that he'll drive you in to Salopek, then bring you back to the school after work to pick up your truck.<br/>
<br/>
He's parked out front in the visitor's lot, so the silence on the walk to his car isn't awkward for <i>very</i> long. But it's awkward enough that you feel relief when your dad speaks as you're buckling yourselves in. "So how did you get in a fight?" he asks. He only sounds curious, and there's no anger in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
"You'd know if you knew the guy," you reply after a moment's hesitation. "He— Well, he doesn't go around stealing people's lunch money. But he's the kind that used to."<br/>
<br/>
Your dad gives you a sidelong look. "Okay," he says. "Now tell me how you got in a fight."<br/>
<br/>
You suck on your lip. "Well, I guess it started because I was getting in fights with another guy."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's this other guy, he's always hassling me and Caleb and my friends. Getting in our faces, calling us names, pushing us around."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, for the last ... two or three weeks, I've been hitting him back."<br/>
<br/>
You're on the street now, but your dad looks over at you from under raised eyebrows. "Hitting him <i>back?</i>" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. First time"—these are the memories you got from Gordon—"he shoved me against the wall and called me a name, so I hit him. And I didn't, uh, stop. 'Cos I knew if I stopped he'd just whomp me. He's <i>big,</i> Dad. Football-player big."<br/>
<br/>
"I see."<br/>
<br/>
"And he went away, actually. I think he saw a teacher coming."<br/>
<br/>
"And you didn't get suspended for this?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one saw. No one ever sees. Dad, this goes on at school <i>all the time!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He looks surprised, but also very grave.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, after that, this guy, his name's Lester, he tried coming at me a few more times, but I just—" You sigh. "I happened to have a talk with one of the basketball players. He knew I was having a problem with ass— With guys like Lester and David Kirkham and all the rest, and he told me, Look, just make yourself more trouble than you're worth. Even if you can't win a fight, make 'em hurt so much every time they hassle you that they just stop."<br/>
<br/>
The blood is draining from your father's face. "And this is what you did?"<br/>
<br/>
"Started doing."<br/>
<br/>
"And how many times did you get in a fight?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Seven, eight times."<br/>
<br/>
"And this is the first time you got caught?" He sounds incredulous.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
Your dad looks like he's sucking on a lemon. He's silent for a couple of blocks. Then he says, "Well, we'll talk about it later." There's no hint in his voice that you're storing up trouble, but also no hint that he's going to be understanding.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But it wasn't just to talk to Mr. Sagansky that your dad came out to get you. As he tells you on your way in to work, they need you.<br/>
<br/>
Salopek is a large facility covering many acres with warehouses, manufacturing buildings, assembly huts, and a small office, and there's hardly a straight alley between the closely set buildings. He tells you that he himself hasn't seen the problem yet, for he was handling another problem—and wondering about your fight at school—when word came down about the explosion. He only knew that this was not a day to be shorthanded at work, and came straight over to the school to get you out of detention.<br/>
<br/>
It's a small storage facility he leads you to, one that you recognize (from Gordon's time there) as one of the secure units where Salopek keeps its most valuable materials. High up under the eaves of the roof, a glass window has been blown out, and the steel shutters that covered it have been peeled back like the skin off a banana. A half-dozen Salopek employees are squinting up at it when you and your dad join them.<br/>
<br/>
"Whew!" a lumpy, balding guy in glasses says to your dad, and shakes his head. "Someone wanted in bad, didn't they?"<br/>
<br/>
Andy Keyes, your and Sean's immediate supervisor nods at you. "When Sean gets here, I'll set you two to cleaning up," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," your dad says. "We're going to want to look this whole thing over before anything gets touched. Has anyone checked inside?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just to look," says another man. <br/>
<br/>
Your dad makes a face. "Well, let's get Mike Salazar and his team to look everything over"—he points at the glass scattered over the asphalt—"before we clean it up. Andy, you can set Will and Sean to making an inventory of what's in that room. Get 'em a manifest so we can find out what was taken."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," Andy says, and crooks a finger at you. You follow.<br/>
<br/>
"What's all the excitement?" you ask. "An explosion?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's for Mike Salazar to figure out. But it looks like a burglary to me." He winces. "I shouldn't say anything in front of you. But if it is a burglary, it's the second in two months."<br/>
<br/>
You follow him back over to his office, where he starts pulling out files. Sean Mitchell shows up while he's still pulling stuff together for you.<br/>
<br/>
It gives you a queer turn to have him walk in. He is at once a doubly familiar sight while being a total stranger.<br/>
<br/>
The last time you saw Sean was while looking in a mirror. You impersonated him yesterday while distracting Cameron Huber, so seeing him now—barrel-chested, with strong arms and shaggy blonde hair—is a bit of an out-of-body experience for you.<br/>
<br/>
Then you remember why else it would be "out of body." Sean had a twin brother (now deceased), and you've still got enough of his memories staining the inside of your brain that looking at him gives you a slightly nauseating "uncanny valley" feeling: that you are looking at your own twin, who should be dead.<br/>
<br/>
He catches you looking at him, but he just jerks his chin at you and says, "Hey Will."<br/>
<br/>
"How are you coming on disassembling that unit in, what is it? Assembly B?" Andy asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Should be able to finish it off pretty quick today," Sean says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, go change into coveralls, and grab you some gloves and goggles too, then go work on that till I come get you."<br/>
<br/>
"Goggles and gloves?" Sean asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Will'll explain on your way. Hopefully I'll be along in only about thirty minutes to get you."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's going on?" Sean asks as you lead him back outside.<br/>
<br/>
"There was some kind of explosion or something at one of the storage rooms. Over in the 'X' complex."<br/>
<br/>
Sean whistles. "And they want <i>us</i> cleaning <i>that</i> up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. They've got some guys looking at it now, but I think the plan is for us just to check the inventory. So I guess we need some kind of protective gear just in case."<br/>
<br/>
"We better change into boots too, then," Sean says.<br/>
<br/>
And it's while changing clothes that you get another look at that tattoo on his arm. The one with the symbols that look those in the sigils that the book contains.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, speaking of explosions," Sean says while you're changing. He grins slyly at you. "Heard you was in the middle of one today at school."<br/>
<br/>
You tense. "Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"You and Kirkham?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh."<br/>
<br/>
"How much did you hurt him?"<br/>
<br/>
"He needed an ice pack."<br/>
<br/>
"That's pretty good, man." He catches your bicep and squeezes it curiously. "Pretty <i>damn</i> good, I'd say."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't ask you to elaborate, and you don't volunteer.<br/>
<br/>
You think about asking him about Cameron Huber, and the "apology" that is circulating around school. You wonder what Cameron has had to say about it, and what he and Sean have said to each other about him supposedly being with Sean while he was helping craft fliers and making a video. But you don't actually recall seeing any of those fliers around, so you're not sure you've got a hook to hang a question on, and so you don't ask it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So it's all pretty weird," you're telling Caleb later that night, when you go over to his house after supper. You're sitting in his room, telling him about your day (both at school and at work), and wondering if you really do want to wait around until Gordon gets home from wherever, or if that would just be more weirdness between the two of you on top of the time you spent in the loft.<br/>
<br/>
But it's right then that Gordon puts his head into the room. "What's weird?" he asks. "Hey man," he adds.<br/>
<br/>
"Work." Briefly you tell him of the excitement: How a window with reinforced shutters was torn off of a storage unit in an apparent explosion without causing so much as a scratch on the inside. And how nothing in the unit was missing, and no other units were touched by the apparent burglars. "Huh," Gordon says when you're done.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you hear anything about Cameron and his 'apology'?" Caleb asks Gordon. "Will'n me were talking how we didn't see any of those fliers in the hall, or anything about it."<br/>
<br/>
"That's 'cos you hang out with the wrong crowd," Gordon says. "Cameron had his guys tearing the fliers down before classes even started, and he's squealing like a little girl over it all, from what I heard." He chucks his chin at you. "Think you could get a thing onto Mitchell, so we can find out what's going on with them?"<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321121111212221111112
author_id: seuzz
id: KSYW86JGT
title: Pain Management
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"That would be kind of tricky," you tell Gordon. "Wouldn't it? Just to get inside dope on the football squad? I can ask him at work, if I can think of an excuse to."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon shrugs. "Whatever. What are we doing this weekend?"<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb exchange a quick glance. "You've got work," you remind him. "And I got work too."<br/>
<br/>
"You just gotta work Saturday morning," Gordon says, "and we got that thing in the basement that can cover for me. Right, Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's eyes widen. "Uh, sure," he says. But he looks unhappy.<br/>
<br/>
"But we can't go out anyplace," you remind Gordon. "If you're supposed to be at work, you don't want anyone seeing you at the movies or anywhere. I mean, you <i>do</i> kind of stand out in a crowd."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't gotta go anywhere," Gordon says. "We wanna look at the next thing in the book, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Oh, so that's where he was heading. Again you glance at Caleb, and answer for him. "Sure, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon nods. "Tomorrow night I gotta do some Chelsea maintenance, but we'll meet up Saturday at the basement." He starts to leave, then asks you, "You gonna skip your bullshit third period class again tomorrow, come hang out with me and Lynch?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart skips. "I can't skip every day. Besides, um—" You bite your lip, "Would him and Patterson be okay with me showing up there?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon holds your eye. "You're not scared of 'em, are you, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't think of an answer that Gordon would both respect and believe. So you totter over and mime punching him in the stomach. He grabs your face and throws you backward onto Caleb's bed. "Do whatever you want, man," he says, then disappears down the hallway toward his room.<br/>
<br/>
And instead of answering Caleb's inquisitive look, you mutter that you have to go.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You haven't talked anymore to your dad about your detention. He was preoccupied all during dinner, and gave no overt sign that he has any misery stored up for you.<br/>
<br/>
But he calls you into his study when he hears you come home. He tells you to shut the door, and sits against his desk with folded arms while addressing you.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," he says, "I've thought about what you told me this afternoon, about your fight. I can't condone you brawling, but at the same time—" He scratches his nose. "From what you told me, this is a school disciplinary problem, not a problem with <i>you</i> that I need to worry about. What I mean is," he continues when you look puzzled, "you're not 'fighting,' you're just protecting yourself because the school won't act to stop these ... incidents."<br/>
<br/>
He gives a short, sharp sigh. "I'm not going to <i>encourage</i> you— I mean, I'm not going to tell you that you <i>should,</i> uh, protect yourself, or that I'm okay with what you've started doing. But I'm not going to punish you, either. Whether you keep up this ... <i>strategy</i> ... that's up to you." He makes a face. "Meaning, it's up to you to decide if you can put up with the pain you're going to be in for, and with whatever punishment the school dishes out."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're not going to ground me or anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." He sighs. "To be honest with you, Will, I do <i>not</i> see you starting fights. You never have before and ... Well, I can't really see you starting to do that now. So I'm just going to assume going forward that if you <i>do</i> get detention or even suspended for fighting, it's because the other guy started it and is completely to blame."<br/>
<br/>
"Thank you, sir."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, hold on. If you do get hurt, if you need taking to a dentist or urgent care or something like that, I'll be withholding your salary until you pay me back the expense of patching you back together. This is <i>all</i> on you." <br/>
<br/>
His smile turns a little sardonic. "I'm not adding to the price you're going to pay, but I'll be <i>god damned</i> before I start subsidizing your new <i>boxing career!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are studying the wallet that you filched from Kirkham's pocket, and wondering why you did that, when Cassie texts to ask if your detention went off alright, and if you're okay in general, and if you've got weekend plans that maybe the two of you could coordinate with your friends. You're noncommittal, but she will keep shooting little emojis and silly asides (<i>We had shortcake for dessert tonite yum!</i>) until you tell her that you have homework and will be turning off your phone. It leaves you rather more ambivalent about her, and wishing that you could use the golem, or whatever it is that Caleb called it, this weekend to keep her distracted but happy while you do other stuff.<br/>
<br/>
As for the wallet, you stuff it into your desk under as much shit as you can cover it with. For there is no way you are going to give it back to Kirkham, even if it does contain his driver's license, student ID, and a credit card.<br/>
<br/>
Cassie is waiting for you the next morning, at the entrance to the breezeway that connects the student parking lot to the school proper, and chatters about this and that all the way to your locker. You let her rattle on with gossip about her friends, and are relieved of having to come back with answering small talk when one of her friends, Lotte Linde, joins you and keeps Cassie distracted until you can escape to first period.<br/>
<br/>
You collapse into your desk with a sigh. "Dude, what am I going to do about Cassie?" you ask Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm more interested," he says, "in what you're going to do with—" He glances around the room. "Your friend who wants you to hang out with him third period."<br/>
<br/>
You shoot him a waspish glance. "I already got Cassie to worry about," you retort. "I don't need <i>you</i> acting like a jealous girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
He slouches, then takes out his phone. You're startled when, a minute later, you get a text on your phone from him.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Me n gordon r fine,</i> he says, <i>I'm not jelus.<br/>
<br/>
So how come u talk jelus?</i> you reply.<br/>
<br/>
<i>He wants u hang out 3 prd n loft u gong say no?<br/>
<br/>
I got class.<br/>
<br/>
Bs class go c him.<br/>
<br/>
Cant skip ev day.<br/>
<br/>
Dont haf to just go c him tday.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Why, is there something up?" you whisper to Caleb. But he grimaces and resumes typing. His answer comes in just as Mr. Walberg is stepping up to his podium.<br/>
<br/>
<i>S like asking girl to go on date f she say no u not ask again it all ovr w her. U say no next wk n it b ok w gordn but say y tday.</i><br/>
<br/>
It makes you wonder what he and Gordon talked about last night after you left, that Caleb is so full of wisdom about the care and feeding of your hulking friend.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Prescott!" Gordon rumbles when you put your head into the loft after third period has started, and his face actually lights up. Lynch, who is sitting cross-legged with his back to the door, twists around to give you a much more equivocal grin. "Wanna beer?" Gordon continues, and reaches for the fridge. "Take the edge off the morning."<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay." You flop down with a sigh between him and Lynch. "I shouldn't be skipping anyway. I—" You catch yourself with a groan. "I forgot to go into the office this morning."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch snorts. "Why'dja wanna do something like that for?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm s'posed to tell 'em when I'm gonna take my detention for that fight yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"What? They lettin' you <i>pick</i> which days you get detention?"<br/>
<br/>
"On account of I got a job after school."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch looks at Gordon. "Must be nice, havin' th'a'ministration wound aroun' yer little finger!"<br/>
<br/>
"So yeah, I can pick my days." You think a minute. "Fuck me."<br/>
<br/>
"Wassa matter?"<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. "I guess I'll have the first one today."<br/>
<br/>
"This's Friday!" Lynch protests. "Fuck that!"<br/>
<br/>
"But Kirkham's gonna be in there too. He's having his detention yesterday and today. I missed yesterday 'cos my dad needed me out at work, and if I don't go in today, I'll look like a pussy, like I'm trying <i>not</i> to go in when Kirkham's there."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch stares at you, then looks at Gordon, then looks back at you. "Fuck," he says with surprising sympathy. "Yeah, I don't envy you there. That motherfucker—"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't gotta go in today," Gordon says. "No one'll think you're a pussy."<br/>
<br/>
"Kirkham will!"<br/>
<br/>
"He's gonna think that anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"He's gonna come after me 'cos he's gonna think I'm scared of him."<br/>
<br/>
"He's gonna come after you anyway. You can do whatever you want, man," Gordon says in a rumble, "'cos you're fucked either way. You can be fucked with a Friday detention, or fucked with a free afternoon." He takes a long pull from his beer. "I know which one I'd pick."<br/>
<br/>
You're about to accept his advice when you catch the look on Lynch's face. He's been civil, even a little friendly with you, a lot more than yesterday and a lot more than you'd have expected. But you can tell he's judging you. If you skip out on detention today, <i>he</i> will think you're a pussy, even if Gordon doesn't.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211112122211111121
author_id: seuzz
id: GN9LF7HP3
title: Girls and Other Complicated Things
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You don't make any decisions about your detention plans, and just let the subject drift. Jason does most of the talking, about this and that and filling the silences with his chortles. You don't want him to think you're uncomfortable hanging out with him and Gordon, so you ask him about the school baseball team, which he's the pitcher for. He likes that, and so talks a lot about the team and their chances in the city and state leagues. Baseball was one sport in elementary and middle school that you were okay at—okay enough that you knew the rules and were never picked last—so you're able to hold your own in an intelligent conversation.<br/>
<br/>
And when the period is over and you're all getting up to go, Lynch actually gives you a cheerful smile when Gordon reminds him that he's going to skip seventh period next Monday to show you how the weight machines work.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's the middle of English class when the intercom barks your name and orders you to the office. You flinch as all eyes turn toward you.<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Sagansky isn't waiting for you, but Mr. Staufford, one of the assistant principals, is. "William Prescott?" he asks in a sharp tone when you enter. "You weren't in third period today."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I had some homework I forgot to finish for fourth." You return his stare with an even one of your own.<br/>
<br/>
He glares. "Well, the absence has been noted on your record. You also owe us two days detention. When do you want to take them?" You can tell he does <i>not</i> like the idea of students getting to pick which days they take detention on.<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna get it over with," you tell him. "Today and Monday."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright." He scribbles on a sheet of paper. "You may return to class now." On your way back, you text your dad to tell him you'll have to miss work. He texts back an acknowledgement.<br/>
<br/>
At lunch, of course, Cassie wants to know all about why you got called into the office and are you in any more trouble. You explain it was just to schedule your detentions. "I can stick around with you," she asks after class is over. "Even if they won't let me in there with you, I can wait for you in the library and then—"<br/>
<br/>
You try to make eye contact with Caleb, but he is absorbed in looking any place other than at you.<br/>
<br/>
But you know what you ought to do, and you do it. You take Cassie by the hand and tell her that you'd <i>love</i> it if she waited for you after school, so that you could then go off and do something together. "And bring some of your friends along," you urge her. "Like Lotte and them." That will give you some protection, you figure.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"The trouble," Caleb tells you after last period, as you're talking at your lockers, "is that Cassie's always had a crush on you."<br/>
<br/>
The roar and mutter of the surging crowd is louder than usual, for it is Friday and everyone's excited for the weekend. But you know you didn't mishear him. "Oh, man, don't say that!"<br/>
<br/>
"I would'a told you before, but you were still with Lisa." He glances around before leaning in to impart the confidences. "And besides, no one was really keen on telling you in case you decided to get excited about it and maybe try something with her."<br/>
<br/>
You pale at this staggering news. "Who's 'we'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, everyone. Me, Tilley, Ioeger, Lamont."<br/>
<br/>
"How did <i>you</i> guys know this?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, how did we know it and you didn't? Because, Will, you're about as blind as a cave fish when it comes to these things. Tilley's the one who noticed. Fucker's a dumbass, but he's got whatever the equivalent of 'gaydar' is for picking up on when a girl is into a guy and when she's not. He picked it up about Ioeger and her, too."<br/>
<br/>
A chirpy voice behind you interrupts. "Carson Ioeger? Carson and who?"<br/>
<br/>
You lurch and spin. It's Cassie, standing right beside you and looking at you and Caleb with an eager expression.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh hey, Cassie," Caleb says in a strangled voice. "I didn't see you standing there. Uh, Carson and this girl in one of his classes. I'll see you kids around." He slams his locker shut, shoves himself into the crowd, and lets it carry him away.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone's got a crush on Carson?" Cassie exclaims. "That's so cute! Who is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Caleb didn't— Uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"We have to find out and tell Carson! He deserves a girlfriend, don't you think? He's so smart. Hey, I know! I talked to Lotte and Abby and Sophia, and we're all up for Mexican food tonight if you're interested, and you could maybe ask Carson along or someone else. I mean, in case this girl that Caleb was talking about—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll text him," you assure her, even though you know you won't.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After that, you drag yourself to the office for your detention. "I'm Will Prescott," you tell the receptionist, who with her chubby cheeks, button eyes, and fluffy hairdo looks like a fat, cheerful and slightly demented bunny rabbit. "I've got detention?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yes, I see your name here!" she chirps, and makes a checkmark on a clipboard. "Just go down the hall and hang a left at the first door on that side! You'll be there till five, so I hope you brought some work!" She giggles as though sharing a joke.<br/>
<br/>
Her directions take you to a conference room, where there's already two kids sitting at opposite corners of an immense table. They are dressed down in hoodies, slumping behind the backpacks that they've thrown on the table, and they look up at sullenly at you from their cell phones. You take a seat halfway between them, pull out your homework, and set to work.<br/>
<br/>
Five minutes, ten minutes, thirty minutes pass, and only one other person joins you, another boy in dirty jeans and a hoodie, who throws himself angrily into a chair on the other side of the table. Like the other two, he looks like a sophomore. But David Kirkham never shows.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Five o'clock comes, and Mr. Staufford puts his head in to say you can all go. "'Bout fucking time," one of the other guys mutters as he puts away his phone. But you're not unhappy, for you got all your math done and a little of your English. On the way out, though, you ask Mr. Staufford why Kirkham wasn't there.<br/>
<br/>
"He took one of his detentions yesterday," the assistant principal snaps. "He'll take his other one on Monday." The beady glint in his eye tells you that he's no more happy about Kirkham getting to pick his days than about you getting to pick yours, and that he probably blames you for Kirkham getting to have a pick. You cuss under your breath as you shuffle from the office.<br/>
<br/>
Cassie is waiting for you just outside the office door, and when she runs up you think she's going to hug you, but she catches herself at the last moment, and skips along next to you as you walk to the student parking lot. She asks how it was and if it went okay and what's it like, anyway, getting detention because she never had it and—<i>shudder</i>—she hopes she never does but she's interested in knowing. You tell her it was basically like having a study hall.<br/>
<br/>
You're just about to step into the parking lot when you hear your name shouted. You and Cassie turn. It's Gordon, just coming out of the gym, with his arm around Chelsea. You wait for them to catch up.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you're up here late," Gordon says.<br/>
<br/>
"I had detention. I decided to take it today, get it over with. How was practice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eh. Who's this?" His gaze goes to Cassie, and you introduce her. "This the girl you been telling me about?"<br/>
<br/>
A little shiver runs through you, and from the corner of your eye you see Cassie's mouth fall open. "Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Nice. Well, I'll see you around later, if you're over at Johansson's." Gordon pulls Chelsea close, and the two walk around the corner toward his Bug.<br/>
<br/>
Cassie waits until they're out of immediate earshot to squeal. "You know Gordon Black?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. He rents a room from Caleb's mom. And, uh—" It embarrasses you, but you can't help preening a little. "We hang out sometimes."<br/>
<br/>
But you're more interested—in a dreadful way—in the steely glint in Chelsea's eyes and teeth as she grinned glassily at you from inside Gordon's embrace.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Cassie go straight from school to the mall to meet her friends at the Arriba Mexican Cafe. It's a loud place with every surface covered in tile, which makes it hard to hear anything over the music and shouts and laughter of the diners. Cassie spends most of her time talking to Abby MacDonald and Sophia Dewberry, while you mostly talk to Lotte Linde, who is a lot quieter and more sardonic than Cassie, sharing notes about some classes you had together last year, and gossiping about acquaintances. But around about six-thirty you get a text from Caleb, asking you come right over to his place. You make your excuses, tell Cassie that she really should stay with her friends and have fun, and hurry off.<br/>
<br/>
It's something to do with Gordon, Caleb told you in the text, and he looks real worried as he leads you back to Gordon's bedroom. The door is shut. "He won't talk to me," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
So you knock, call Gordon's name, and tell him it's you. "Yeah, come in," he calls back.<br/>
<br/>
He's on his bed, staring at the ceiling with puffy eyes, and hugging his pillow to his chest. "Jesus, man, what happened?" you murmur as you shut the door in Caleb's face.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon takes a deep breath, expels a massive sigh, and continues staring at the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
"It's Chelsea," he says. "I broke up with her." He clenches his jaw. "And this time it's for keeps!"<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111121222111111211
author_id: seuzz
id: T599F36TZ
title: Confidence and Confidences
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"Oh my God," you murmur. "Are you serious?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon shuts his eyes and punches the pillow he's hugging to his chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon, you and Chelsea were— Why?"<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't answer, but snorts and blows like an animal. You are stiff with fright and anxiety, but you manage, with creaking joints to settle yourself into the chair at his desk. "I'm so sorry," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!" Gordon gasps, and finally masters his emotions. "You know what she was like. You're—" The tendons in his neck pop out as his mouth spreads into a rictus. "You're like the only guy who probably does."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow. "I know she could really make you happy," you say.<br/>
<br/>
Then you try to give yourself a fatal stroke when you realize the implication of what you said. <i>I only meant that a lot of times you were happy with her around! Not because she, uh—</i><br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but she could piss me off," Gordon says. "You know <i>that</i>, too!"<br/>
<br/>
"Did she piss you off tonight? You sure you can't get back together with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I could," he says. "I <i>know</i> I could! But—" He grimaces, fighting to hold back tears. "You remember how she changed? How she said she was going to be different, better? Well, it was a fucking lie. She's the same—!" His jaw and his mouth work, as though each is trying to say a different word.<br/>
<br/>
You pull the chair up a little closer to him. "You, uh, almost broke up with her before. And she changed."<br/>
<br/>
"She <i>said</i> she would, but she didn't." He turns his head, to look at you with a strange, bright light in his eyes. "And it was <i>you,</i>" he says, "who got her to do that much."<br/>
<br/>
"Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna believe her. She can't change. Even if she promises again—"<br/>
<br/>
"Did she <i>do</i> something?" you ask. "Say something?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you that strange, piercing look again, then turns away. "Yeah, but I don't wanna talk about it. It was ... personal. You know," he says after a moment's struggle, "you're just about the only guy I can talk to about this with."<br/>
<br/>
"Anytime you need to talk," you promise him, "about anything—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he grunts. "I don't talk, though, is the problem."<br/>
<br/>
"It can help."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but not right now." With a grunt, he sits up and plants his feet on the floor, but he rests his forearms on his knees. He sighs and rubs his face. "This is about all I can manage right now."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry I couldn't help you."<br/>
<br/>
"No, you did. You did as good as you could. It's me." He claps you hard on the shoulder, and gives you a wan smile. "I needed to tell someone, and you're the only one I could tell who would understand. Because you <i>know.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You can sense he wants to wrap things up, so you get up to go. "Well," you repeat, "you can always talk to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, thanks," he mumbles, and you can tell he's embarrassed.<br/>
<br/>
On your way out the door, though, you ask one question: "If you broke up with Chelsea— I mean, you're going to tell Steve and Jason, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah," he says. "Everyone's gonna find out, eventually. But— Oh, fuck me. I know what <i>they'll</i> say. I needed to tell you first."<br/>
<br/>
His gaze goes distant and his expression starts to darken. It looks like he's about to have another emotional storm, but he's not going to want it in front of you, it looks like. So you give him a quick pat on the shoulder, and tell him that you'll look for him tomorrow, per your weekend plan. He gives you a crooked half-smile, and with a "Later" falls back upon the bed. You shut the door behind you.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks freaked when you tell him what it was about, and asks (only half-joking) if he can spend the night at your place. You tell him not to be a baby, that Gordon will be alright but that he needs to be there and be nice to him. Caleb makes a face, but lets you go home. You don't hear from either of them for the rest of the night.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning, after a good breakfast, you and your dad drive in to Salopek, for you've got work and he's got some office stuff to polish off. The morning is spent with Sean Mitchell on a variety of physical jobs, the biggest of which involves repairing and replacing the window that was busted out of that storage unit. You don't ask him about Cameron Huber or the football squad, both because you still can't find a "hook" for the query, and because you figure Gordon's now got something a lot more important to worry himself about.<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of which, you make a quick call to Caleb at around ten o'clock, while you're taking a piss-break, to ask him how Gordon's doing.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," he tells you. "I haven't seen him today. He's usually up earlier than me, to go running, and I guess he went in to work after that."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought he was going to send that golem thingie in, and we were going to work on the next spell this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." Caleb ponders. "I just got up a few minutes ago, man. I guess I should go out to the school and see if that thing is still in the basement." He texts you about thirty minutes later: <i>Thing still there gordon must gone to work.</i><br/>
<br/>
You check in with him again when you're home, after lunch, but he still has no updates. He suggests getting together to look at the book, but you demur, saying you want Gordon there too. Then you argue about which of you should text Gordon to check in with him, or if you should check in with him at all. You're still wrangling with that when (thank God!) Gordon himself lands in your chat, to tell you that he's going to spend the evening and night with Steve and that he'll see you Sunday night after work.<br/>
<br/>
Which leaves your Saturday night free to spend with Cassie, but you tell her you're stiff and achy from work and just want to chill at home. You also tell her you'll look her up on Sunday afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
But the next day, when you turn your phone back on after church, you find a terrifying text waiting for you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The side door to the school gym is locked, so when you arrive you have to text. A minute later, the door opens, and Steve Patterson lets you in.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson is a rangy six-and-a-half-plus feet tall with a strong build, but he has nothing of the ox-like bulk of his friend Gordon. His hair is a light brown and he has strong, regular features. But his eyes are a cold, gray color, and when he looks at you it's like he's searing your very soul with freezer-burn.<br/>
<br/>
"So," you stammer as you follow him across the gym floor, which, with the lights off, is dusky even with the afternoon sunshine filtering in through the windows set high under the ceiling. "You said we had to talk."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Oh, before I forget." He dips his hand into the deep pocket of the long athletic shorts he's wearing, and pulls out something that he tosses to you. It's a small keyring with two keys on it. "That's for the side door and the loft, so I don't have to let you in next time. Gordon wants you to have them."<br/>
<br/>
You stop short, then hurry to catch up when Patterson casts a cold glance back at you. Almost you ask him <i>Why?</i> but think better of it in time.<br/>
<br/>
He leads you up a staircase to the mezzanine that separates the two basketball courts, where the gym's weight-lifting equipment is. "Gordon wanted me to show you this stuff, too," he says. "He said Lynch was supposed to show you on Monday during your break, but I said I'd do it. Sit there." He points.<br/>
<br/>
There follows a twenty- or thirty-minute introduction to each of the machines and to the free weights. He shows you how to change the weights for each machine, describes which muscle groups they work on, gives a short talk about reps and sets, and also tells you about the importance of dividing up exercises amongst various days. "Gordon and Jason overdo it," he tells you. "They're gonna hurt themselves." As you move from station to station he also invites you to try each one, to get a feel for it. At first he offers some pointers on form, but eventually he gives up on that. "First time you want to do a workout," he tells you, "set it up with me. Or Gordon or Jason. We'll walk you through it, how to do each one."<br/>
<br/>
His tone all through is very cool and neutral—polite, with only a trace of impatience. But he doesn't really <i>talk</i> to you until the end, when you're sitting on a bench press and he's leaning against the railing that runs around the mezzanine. "Gordon's taken a real shine to you," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess."<br/>
<br/>
His lip curls. "You guess," he snorts. "Any idea why?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate. Obviously you can't tell the truth. "I'm friends with the guy he moved in with," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. And ... Last week I, uh, got into a thing with David Kirkham."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I heard about that. But lots of people get into a ... 'thing' ... with that cocksucker, and they don't walk away with a key to the loft." His expression is clear but glacial.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess we hit it off while talking over at Caleb's."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson holds your eye for a very long time. Your own eyes are soon watering.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," he says, "I'm going to tell you something you need to know, only because it's the fair thing to do." He leans forward, and he voice drops about twenty degrees in temperature. "None of Gordon's friends like each other. None of 'em, and never have. It's like he goes out of his way to pick up people who can't stand each other. You're in for a hard ride."<br/>
<br/>
A gleam of cold hatred comes into his eye. "And that's a promise from me to you."<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321121111212221111112111
author_id: seuzz
id: GF8VW48X2
title: The Continuing Misadventures
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"Well, thanks for the warning," you tell Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
"Just fair notice," he repeats. "Now, are you done here?"<br/>
<br/>
On the way out of the gym, you ask him, "When did you see Gordon? I mean, to get these keys from him?"<br/>
<br/>
"This afternoon, at work."<br/>
<br/>
"How's he doing? I mean, I heard him and Chelsea, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
Patterson stops to give you a very long and searching look. Maybe you got more comfortable after being with him for the last hour or so, or maybe you're just more confident on account of your own friendship with Gordon, but you return his stare with a steady one of your own.<br/>
<br/>
"He's doing okay," Patterson finally says. "I'll see you around." Abruptly he turns and shambles off toward the boys' changing room.<br/>
<br/>
You put the new keys on your own keyring, and after thinking about it while driving around town you go home and spend the rest of the afternoon playing video games in your room. It's the only way you know to wrap your head around the way your life is being twisted onto a new course.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't say anything to Caleb about getting keys to the gym and loft when you go over to his house at around five. Gordon's not home yet, but you and Caleb have only been joshing about this and that about school—not about magic business or anything like that—when Gordon does come trundling in.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," he says when he puts his head in through the doorway. "Supper plans made yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think my mom's just gonna defrost some frozen dinners," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"Then how 'bout we get a pizza, bring it back here?"<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb look at each other. "That's sounds great," you both agree.<br/>
<br/>
"I can throw in twenty," Gordon says. "You guys pitch in what you can." He goes to the toilet, and when he gets back you settle on what to get and where, and you're sent to pick it up. Afterward, you sprawl in Caleb's bedroom with the pizzas while Gordon searches out some college basketball games on YouTube<br/>
<br/>
This isn't exactly to your or Caleb's taste, but Gordon is in the best mood you've ever seen him in—he doesn't seem <i>happy,</i> exactly, but he's mellow and relaxed and actually pretty talkative—so you don't argue. The evening turns out to be not half bad. Gordon really gets into the game as it progresses, pointing out the plays to you and Caleb, explaining them and critiquing the performance, and he gets pretty excited when talking about particular players and what they're good at. He gets very intense and focused, and you can tell that he would badly like to be on the court playing in that game, or any game.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I should know what's going through his head,</i> you think. <i>I was there for a couple of weeks.</i> But you find that the memories have almost faded—except for some intense ones involving his dad ... and Chelsea—so that you have nothing to go on but his manner. <i>Yeah, he's happy. He's </i>into<i> this, the way I get into it when I play a video game.</i><br/>
<br/>
But you don't realize you've been staring at him and smiling at him, until he catches you at it. "You see something funny, Prescott?" he asks, and there's just the trace of a growl in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I was just thinking—" You hesitate.<br/>
<br/>
It would sound stupid, you feel, to sat it aloud—that comparison you were making between the things you and Gordon are "into." Video games are just button-pushing, but basketball is a real physical activity, and now that you think about it again, you get a bit of an empathetic rush that brings back that feeling of calm intensity you felt on the gym courts when you were playing Gordon's role at school. It's funny you didn't really notice it at the time. You were just "doing Gordon," and maybe Gordon just gets so into it when he's playing basketball that he doesn't notice that he's into it.<br/>
<br/>
"I was just thinking that I wish I was good at basketball," you finally say, "so we could go out and have fun instead of just watching the fun."<br/>
<br/>
You're staring at the screen when you say this, and when Gordon doesn't reply you glance back, to find him again entirely absorbed in the play on screen.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You were dreading the next day anyway, because of the detention you will be sharing with Kirkham, but the horror gets an early start. You are rounding your way into B wing for your shitty third-period Career Planning class—and wishing you could afford to skip it again, to hang out in the loft—when two guys appear out of nowhere and grab you from either side. Your craven instincts kick in, and you let them hustle you toward the doors leading outside in back of the school. But when they kick the doors open and thrust you through, and you see David Kirkham and Gary Chen waiting for you a couple of dozen yards off by the portables, everything Gordon had told you comes rushing back. It's almost like he's talking to you telepathically.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hurt them,</i> his voice says almost audibly inside your skull. <i>Hurt them bad, as hard as you can. Hurt them even if you have to hurt yourself. Hurt them even if you hurt yourself worse.</i><br/>
<br/>
Every limb and muscle in your frame comes to life.<br/>
<br/>
You thrash and twist and pull in every direction to break free, but you are only gripped even more tightly.. Froth bubbles up around your teeth and you throw yourself back and forth, even when you feel a hard, electric spike in a back muscle, and when one of your arms bends the wrong direction. You wrench and you grind and you snap, trying to get your teeth onto something, but it's like being chained between two rocks—<br/>
<br/>
Until you accidentally bash the side of your head into the head of one of the guys holding you. You see stars, and are gripped by a sickening dizziness, but you keep fighting, kicking and twisting until the hands gripping you on that side slip off. You round and slam a fist blindly at the other guy, and put a knee into something soft and mushy. There's a yelp, and then you're free, and then George Mendoza—a doughy soccer player who runs with Kirkham's crowd—is falling onto the ground.<br/>
<br/>
You kick him in the stomach, hard.<br/>
<br/>
You're grabbed from behind, but before you can lash out, someone looses a teeth-cracking whistle and you're released. You spin, and Joe Thomason—another one of Kirkham's cronies, this one with the look of a skinhead—falls back from you. There's fear in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As far as you're concerned, he's saved only by a hoarse shout from the direction of the Agricultural Annex. Mr. Barrientos, a burly teacher with a bushy black mustache, comes charging out and collars you. He lets Thomason walk away, sends Mendoza to the nurse's office, and sends you to see Mr. Sagansky. The principal regards you from behind his desk with the expression of a man who feels a raging migraine coming on.<br/>
<br/>
You give him your side of the story, but Mr. Barrientos will only say that he saw you whaling on Mendoza and kicking him in the stomach as he lay on the ground. Mr. Sagansky sends him away and gives you a week's detention, and says that he'll be calling your father. You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
So you're in a bad mood when you head into English, and you irritably shake off Cassie when she comes over to talk. Indeed, you're so grumpy that you don't even bother to make nice when she retreats with a wounded expression. But you relent enough that when class is over you go over to apologize, though you also tell her that you want to eat lunch alone because you're not in the mood for company. She looks crushed, but says that she understands.<br/>
<br/>
A class is starting to assemble on the basketball court when you barge into the gym at lunchtime, but you ignore it to trudge up the stairs to the loft. Normally it would give you a thrill to put the key in the lock and twist it, but you're too distracted and angry to feel anything else. But you do stop with a cold spot where your heart should be, when you see Patterson sitting in the middle of the loft with his back against the central support pillar. His eyes freeze when he looks up at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," you mumble, "I didn't think— I thought you had fourth lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"I do," he says. "But this is my study hall." That's when you notice the textbook open in his lap.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, you actually <i>study</i> up here? But don't mind me," you add as you close the door. "I didn't come up here for anything except to get away." You drop your pack and plop down beside it.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh," Patterson says after a pause. "Well, don't we all."<br/>
<br/>
Minutes pass. You fall onto your back with your pack as a pillow, to stare at the ceiling and idly wonder if Patterson is shooting you hateful glances. Then the wondering becomes anxious. Not because you think Patterson will do anything to you, but because you're starting to feel like a jerk for intruding. <i>If Patterson barged into my bedroom and flopped down uninvited, wouldn't I be pissed off?</i> you ask yourself.<br/>
<br/>
But then, this isn't Patterson's bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you lug yourself up with a grimace and start to go. But Patterson interrupts your exit. "You don't have to leave, Prescott," he says. You glance back. His face is turned down into his book, but he lifts his eyes to regard you with a mild scowl. "Though I would like to know why the fuck you decided to come up here after what I told you yesterday.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211112122211111121111
author_id: seuzz
id: FSXHTNPN7
title: Breaking Points
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"I got in another fight," you tell Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever," he mutters, and goes back to studying his textbook.<br/>
<br/>
"It was Mendoza and Thomason. They were hauling me out to the portables." You wince a little as you test the muscles it feels like you pulled. "But I'm not mad about that."<br/>
<br/>
"Glad to hear it," Patterson says in a very dry tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Barrientos broke it up, but he didn't see <i>them</i>, he only saw me kicking at Mendoza after I got loose."<br/>
<br/>
"Kicking?" Now Patterson looks up, and he sneers. "Sounds like you fight like a girl."<br/>
<br/>
"He was on the ground. And I was mad."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson's eyebrows go up, and he looks almost a tiny bit impressed.<br/>
<br/>
"But anyway, Mr. Barrientos sends me to the office, and Sagansky gives me a week detention. Which I could give a fuck about, except those guys—"<br/>
<br/>
"Detention's a joke, Prescott. Don't bust your hymen over it."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just pissed off because it's unfair, is all."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson rolls his eyes. "Get the fuck out. This isn't fucking kindergarten. Christ!"<br/>
<br/>
You flush, and turn to go.<br/>
<br/>
But at the door you wheel and hurl your bag back onto the mat. Patterson actually looks up in surprise. You trudge over and drop down to sit on the bag. You and he glower at each other a minute before you speak.<br/>
<br/>
"You're right, this isn't kindergarten," you tell him. "So why the fuck am I running away from <i>you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Patterson snorts. "I could make you go," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you retort, "but you'd have to. Like it was fucking kindergarten."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson's laugh is like the hiss of cracking ice. "I could and I will, Prescott, I guarantee it. One of these days I <i>will</i> make you, and you will sob like a little bitch when I do. Just not today."<br/>
<br/>
He returns his attention to his Chemistry book, and the last thing he says all period is, "Don't <i>you</i> got any studying you to do?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Two of those same undergraduates are back in detention when you report after school. Kirkham arrives after you do, and he stops in the doorway to meditatively roll his toothpick in his mouth before taking a chair on the opposite side of the table. All hour he scribbles on little slips of paper, folds them tightly into little bundles, and flicks them at you. Every one is a variation on the same theme: <i>I'm going to fuck you up. I'm going to make you eat my cock. You're my little bitch until the day I graduate.</i><br/>
<br/>
After the fifth or sixth one, you stop collecting them, but instead flick them unopened to one of the grungy underclassmen. He scowls at you hard after the first, but when he notices that you're just passing them along to him unread from Kirkham, he gets a little grin and starts flicking them at the other undergraduate. Soon the two of them are making a game of it, scrawling notes of their own to kick back and forth between them and you, and giggling. You snicker along with them. This pisses off Kirkham enough that he stops, and instead leans back to glare at you from behind his shades and folded arms.<br/>
<br/>
He probably would have tried something with you afterward, except that Gordon was waiting for you in the front lobby. "Hey," he calls to you, and doesn't even glance as Kirkham slinks off down a side corridor. "Can you give me a ride?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. But what happened to your Bug?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got dropped at school today." He glances around, then bends down to say, in a confidential tone, "By a guy who looks like me."<br/>
<br/>
You start, violently. <i>"Caleb?"</i><br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. "It's more complicated than I can figure out. But he told me to get a ride from you, said we should go out to the basement when school let out."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind up dropping him off at the old school—and you note Gordon's orange VW Bug parked near the basement door—because you figure you should put in an appearance at home first. It's probably best that you did, for your mother is in a mood. Mr. Sagansky called her, she tells you, to say that you got into <i>another</i> fight at school, and what is this all about?<br/>
<br/>
You explain to her that it was the other guys' fault, that they grabbed you and were taking you off for a beating—a claim that shocks her no end—and that you were just resisting, but you also have to admit that those guys didn't get punished because no teacher saw anything until you were fighting. She insists that you stay until your dad gets home. To your own astonishment, it appears that he didn't tell her about the first fight and your first set of detentions.<br/>
<br/>
Your dad looks very tired when he gets home, and he flinches when your mom tells him, in a very sharp tone, that <i>your son</i> has something to tell him. He takes you back to his study and listens with an expression of pain as you tell what happened at school. He questions you a little—enough to establish that the goons that grabbed you are friends of the first guy you got in a fight with—and because you scooped up some of Kirkham's notes you're able to give him some evidence of your tormentor's character.<br/>
<br/>
He looks very gray in the face, and he kneads his temples, but he only says that he's sticking to the bargain he struck with you last week. "You get hurt?" he asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"No sir," you tell him. "Except I think I kind of pulled a muscle or something." He examines you, and grunts that, yes, it looks like a slight strain, but you'll be alright. He says he'll take care of your mother, and you wind up having to text Gordon and Caleb, to tell them it will be 7:30 or so before you can meet up with them. At least you got almost all your homework done during detention.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yeah, I came out here instead of going to school today," Gordon confesses when the three of you are finally together down in the old basement. "I wanted to try that thing out." He nods at that stony, man-shaped blob you made, which is now standing in a different corner. "It wouldn't do anything I <i>told</i> it to, when I got the mask on it," he says. "But I dunno. We were simpatico or something, so it said it would go to school for me, and get a ride back if I dropped it off."<br/>
<br/>
He wanted some time alone to think, he goes on to explain. (And it's to you that he explains it, and pretty brusquely too. Caleb, who is swinging around in a newly unearthed swivel chair, has already heard it all from him.) He wanted to think through for sure if he really wants to break up with Chelsea, and decided that yes, really, he does. And he took advantage of the time to rearrange the basement.<br/>
<br/>
So there is now a much bigger open space to work in, with some chairs (like the one Caleb is entertaining himself with) arranged around the big conference table you've been using. He's also arranged some cabinets and shelves to hold your supplies, and he pulled out a floor-length mirror that had been hidden in a corner. He also blocked out all the windows with shelves detached from book cabinets, and he made a run into town to buy a couple of cheap lanterns so that the space is illuminated with bright, acridly white lights.<br/>
<br/>
Then he played around with the golem a little after you dropped it off after school. After talking to it a little—enough that it didn't fight him because (he told it) he was pretty sure he'd be sending it out to do stuff for him again—he got the mask off it and put it on himself. As expected, he got the memories of what the thing did at school as him (like he got the memories of what you did as him when you were wearing it). But also, when he put the mask back onto the golem, the thing could remember what <i>he</i> had done that day. This means that a mask of yourself can be periodically updated so it doesn't fall out of sync with your own life when you want to put it on a golem again.<br/>
<br/>
But the big discovery is in the book. That's what he and Caleb have been talking about. The next spell.<br/>
<br/>
It looks a lot similar to the last spell, using almost exactly the same ingredients and being lit on fire in the same way. The difference is—and this is why Caleb and Gordon both look a little spooked—that although it uses a lot less cemetery dirt (only a few pounds) there is one other, new ingredient.<br/>
<br/>
A person.<br/>
<br/>
Yeah. If you're going to perform this spell, and unlock the rest of the book, you're going to have to experiment on someone.<br/>
<br/>
But who? You? Caleb? Gordon? None of you volunteer.<br/>
<br/>
But do you need a volunteer? It's Gordon who points out that you could just grab someone. You wince at the idea, and Caleb does too. "We don't know what it'll do to them," Caleb points out. "What if it—?" He swallows. "Kills them?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon kicks at the floor. "It might not," he says. "It might just scare the fuck out of them."<br/>
<br/>
"It'd scare the fuck out of me," you say. "Having that stuff dumped on me and being set on fire."<br/>
<br/>
"There's some people could stand to have the fuck scared out of them." Gordon hesitates, then he looks at you. "Steve told me you hung out with him in the loft fifth period. He also told me why. It was Mendoza and Thomason?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit. It was Kirkham. Leastways, he's the one that sent 'em."<br/>
<br/>
You don't argue.<br/>
<br/>
And you also don't argue when Gordon suggests that Kirkham could maybe be your guinea pig.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111121222111111211113
author_id: seuzz
id: TMJ2MVWR9
title: A Final Confrontation
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"I don't see how we could get Kirkham to go along with this," Caleb says. He taps the open book and the terrifying spell it contains.<br/>
<br/>
"I could hold him down," Gordon says. "What?" he challenges when Caleb shoots him a skeptical glance.<br/>
<br/>
A numb feeling steals over you, as though some foreign spirit has invaded and taken control of your body. You shuffle over to the drawer where you put the last two blank masks.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to hold him down," someone says using your voice and mouth. "We could use one of these on him." <br/>
<br/>
Gordon and Caleb exchange a quick glance. "Yeah, but how do we get him out here?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't have to. We just take the mask to ... wherever we decide to meet him."<br/>
<br/>
Another silence before Caleb says, "Meet him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. We tell him we—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's this 'we' you're talking about?" Caleb challenges.<br/>
<br/>
"Me and Will, cockweed," Gordon growls. "If you're too chickenshit to go along with it." Still, even he looks a little pale.<br/>
<br/>
You draw a deep, ragged breath. "I'll tell him I want it out with him. Just him and me. Up at the school. After hours. And I'll get the mask on him—"<br/>
<br/>
"Thppbt! Right," Caleb sneers. "He'll kill you, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Not if I'm there," Gordon says. He has turned a long, searching glance upon you. "I'll be there to ref the fight."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll have the rest of the stuff with us—"<br/>
<br/>
"We can do it back at the portables, haul him inside one of them."<br/>
<br/>
"And that's where we do it." You and Gordon are holding each other's eyes, and it's like you are reading each other's minds.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb rubs his temples. "Well, if this is what you guys are all set on doing—"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But are you set on it? You're not sure. But having broached and outlined the idea, it just becomes easiest to follow it. You and Gordon quickly improvise the details while Caleb listens grumpily from the sidelines. Then you part for the night, you for your house and Caleb with Gordon for his.<br/>
<br/>
You find yourself half hoping that Caleb will talk Gordon out of the scheme.<br/>
<br/>
You field some texts from Cassie—which you wince over, and wince over harder when you decide not to reply—and from Keith, who sends a link to a video that he made with some guys up at school for their YouTube channel. You're vaguely aware of it all—it's a movie review channel, and he's doing reviews with them as extra credit in the film class that you and he share—but it strikes you that you've not paid much attention to him in recent weeks, outside of one class and lunch up at school. So you watch the video without paying much attention, then text back to say that it was "cool." He texts back to ask if it's worth sending a link of it to Caleb. When you reply, <i>Sure y not?</i> he replies, <i>Doods busy sucking Gordon's cock.</i> You snort.<br/>
<br/>
Then, instead of tossing the phone away, you call Tilley direct. "So what are you saying this shit about Caleb for?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"What shit?"<br/>
<br/>
"That crack about him sucking off Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he is. They're rooming together, aren't they?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon's just renting a room—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I hardly see him anymore 'cos he's always doing stuff with Gordon, it seems like." You're about to retort that Caleb hardly does anything with Gordon when Keith adds, "You too. Motherfucker."<br/>
<br/>
You blink at the hurt tone in his voice. "I don't think we're doing that much with Gordon," you lie. "You're the one who seems to be avoiding <i>us.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, you blame me? With <i>him</i> hulking it up around you? Jesus." It sounds like he's shivered. "He's a bad influence on you, man."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, where the fuck else are you getting this idea that you can go toe to toe with the psychos at school? The Molester and Kirkham and—" He breaks off.<br/>
<br/>
<i>And Javits?</i> Is that what he was going to say? Seth Javits, of the basketball team, is Keith's special bully. "Gordon gave me some advice, is all," you lamely argue. "It made sense."<br/>
<br/>
"It makes sense if you like getting <i>fucked up.</i> Jesus, I don't even want to be around you any more! 'Case some of them psychos think they should start dishing out to me some of what they're now dishing out to you!"<br/>
<br/>
"The Molester hasn't touched me in a week. It works, dude. If you make yourself more trouble than you're worth—"<br/>
<br/>
"Or, y'know, you could just make sure you're standing where they don't see you and think to make trouble! That's what I do!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you do you, man, and I'll do me."<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't <i>you,</i>" he protests. "It's Gordon. I told you, he's a bad influence."<br/>
<br/>
You're tempted to tell him that you've now got a key to the gym <i>and</i> the fuck room because you've let Gordon influence you. But you restrain yourself. The last thing you want is Keith begging you to show him the loft and whining when you refuse; or you showing him the loft and getting caught with him there by either Patterson or Lynch.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," you say, "let's do something this weekend. Out in the open someplace, so you can make a quick getaway if you see someone coming for me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The confrontation with Kirkham is almost alarmingly easy to set up. Gordon tells you where his locker is; you find him at it; and with a soft, almost gleeful sneer he agrees to meet up with you at six o'clock in back of the school by the portables. And you astonish yourself a little when you one-up him by giving him your phone number in case he has to call because he's changed his mind about fighting you.<br/>
<br/>
Then he has to one-up you by sending you a flurry of texts throughout the day, promising what he'll do to you. You manage to shut him up when you reveal that you've got his wallet with his IDs in it, and that he'll have to beat it out of you to get it back. That elicits only a single reply, which is his last of the day: <i>I'm sending u to the morgue.</i><br/>
<br/>
You take the first day of your five-day detention after school, and when it's done you trudge back to the portables, where (as according to plan) Gordon and Caleb are waiting for you. They've already stashed the stuff for the spell inside one of the portables, and talk some more about how it's going to all work. Gordon must have guessed you'd be jumpy, because he's brought along a small flask filled with something hot but calming. "Not a good idea to fight someone while you're wasted," he says with a crooked grin. "But you're not really trying to win this one, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
Still, it's an anxious thirty-minute wait until Kirkham shows up. It's just you and Gordon outside the portables when he does, for Caleb has hidden himself inside with the supplies. Kirkham studies you and your friend with a darkened brow as he trudges up. "The fuck is this?" he demands, and jerks his chin at Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
"He's here to ref," you explain.<br/>
<br/>
"No refs."<br/>
<br/>
"Then no fight," Gordon says.<br/>
<br/>
"So that's how you're gonna weasel out," Kirkham sneers at you. He turns to leave.<br/>
<br/>
"Chickenshit," Gordon calls after him. Kirkham turns, and regards you both.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," he says, settling back on a heel. "You first, then him. You can ref the second fight," he adds, jerking his thumb at you. "If you're still alive."<br/>
<br/>
"Talk or come at me," you taunt, and brace yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Instantly, Kirkham leaps across the gap between you, swinging a fist at your face. You jerk your head back, so it barely grazes you, then duck and throw yourself at him, grabbing him about the torso and kicking at his ankles in a bid to trip him. But he makes the same play, and you're the one who winds up on the ground with him sneering down at you. "Fuckin' pussy," he says as he raises a fist. But then Gordon grabs and hauls him up in a quasi-headlock. "Mask," Gordon grunts as Kirkham flails in his arms like a wildcat, cussing hard. You scramble over to Gordon's unzipped workout bag, pull out the blank mask, and wheel toward Kirkham. An instant later he is sagging in Gordon's arms, the mask you thrust at him having vanished into his face.<br/>
<br/>
The rest goes just as quickly. Gordon carries him into the portable where Caleb is waiting and drops him onto the book, which is open on the battered teacher's desk, and the three of you quickly strip him of his clothes, revealing a lean, lithe figure. With trembling hands you spread the rest of the ingredients over his hairless chest, and after the mask has come out, Caleb lights a match. He hesitates, though. "What if this <i>doesn't</i> kill him?" he asks hollowly.<br/>
<br/>
"Just finish it," Gordon growls.<br/>
<br/>
You jump back as a cold, purple bloom of flame envelops you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So, I guess it's a good thing we made a spare," Caleb says. "Even though that's not what we were trying to do."<br/>
<br/>
The "spare" in question would be the mask you put onto Kirkham. You had the foresight to glue one of those memory-copying strips into it, so as to make a complete copy of him, and now all you have to do is take it back to the elementary school to seal it up. Then someone can put it on so it won't look like David Kirkham has vanished.<br/>
<br/>
Because it doesn't look like the real one is going to be coming back anytime soon.<br/>
<br/>
But who is going to wear it? You and Caleb and Gordon all exchange worried glances. It's got to be one of you who becomes Kirkham.<br/>
<br/>
Unless you take a chance on putting the mask onto the ... thing ... that the spell made.<span class="cpohbcpohbMK"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321121111212221111112111133
author_id: seuzz
id: G2HRVX8WG
title: Caleb the Kirkham
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You're the one holding the mask that you made of Kirkham before you ... did the thing to him. It's not your choice to make, but someone's got to say something.<br/>
<br/>
So you thrust the mask at Caleb. "Put it on," you tell him in a husky voice.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes pop. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone's gotta be him. He was a motherfucking asshole—" You swallow and flinch as you stare down at the ... thing ... that the spell turned Kirkham into. "But he can't just disappear. Especially 'cos <i>we'd</i> probably get the blame."<br/>
<br/>
"Wh—?" Caleb sputters. "Why do I gotta—? What are you picking <i>me</i> for?" He looks between you and Gordon. "And who says that <i>you</i> get to pick?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just do it. Just for a week, man." You feel cold all over. "You're the only one of us— Me and Gordon— You're the only one of us who <i>hasn't</i> pretended to be someone else."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but I don't wanna be—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Suck it up, Johansson," Gordon growls. "We all gotta pay a price." He glances darkly between you and Caleb. "We'll take turns. But you go first."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb turns red. "How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because," you answer, thinking quickly, "you got a replacement back at the school. That thing we made. It obeys you. So we can put your mask on it and it can be you while you're—"<br/>
<br/>
"One of you could put <i>your</i> mask on it!" Caleb retorts in a near-shriek. "Gordon did! He—"<br/>
<br/>
But he abruptly claps his mouth shut as Gordon looms over him.<br/>
<br/>
"It's just for a week," you assure Caleb before Gordon can utter any kind of threat. "And we'll check out the next spell. I assume we unlocked it when we—" You gulp as you look down at Kirkham again. "Maybe there's a way to reverse this."<br/>
<br/>
"Ain't no way," Caleb mutters, "that we wanna bring Kirkham back, not after we set him on fire!" He shivers. "I don't need to turn myself into him to know what <i>he'd</i> think of all this!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The purple burst of flame that enveloped the room vanished as quickly as it had bloomed, leaving no odor, no heat, no mark of its passage behind, except for what it did to David Kirkham. Where once had lain your lithe, tanned and mostly hairless classmate, there was now something cold and stiff and stone-like. It is the color of the thing you and the other made, now sitting back at the elementary school, and just as rigid. The only difference between it and this is the shape: This thing preserves his face and form so exactly that the closest inspection of his face reveals the pores and the peach fuzz on his cheeks, and each hair on his head seems to have been flash-fossilized in its minute individuation. Caleb even swore, after putting his ear to the thing's chest, that there was the shallowest breath to be detected, but you are dubious. You and the others waited—you feeling ill, and Caleb and Gordon looking it—for a quarter hour to see if he would wake or move or otherwise come to life. He never did.<br/>
<br/>
So you have to conclude that the spell turned him to stone. Apparently, at least. Given the kind of stuff you're working with, you can't really be sure.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div> <br/>
You need to get him replaced before someone misses him, and you need to get what's left of him under cover. But after talking about it, you all decided that there's no way you're going to chance moving this ... thing ... until after it's dark, but that you can at least get started on putting his doppelganger into action. So while Gordon waits in the portable and guards what's left of Kirkham, you and Caleb make a run in your truck for the elementary school. You take Kirkham's phone with you, so that Caleb can get a start on researching his upcoming impersonation.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck me," he says on the drive, as he studies Kirkham's texts. "He's calling you the f-word. In his texts to his friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, faggot. <i>Little faggot wants a fight, el-oh-el.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe it's some other faggot."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm pretty sure it's you." He scrolls back. "Yeah, he's talking about you, here he is setting it up with Mendoza. <i>I want little faggot out here third, you and Thomason get him. Fuck you up if you don't bring him.</i> What a charming motherfucker you're asking me to turn myself into."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're not going to do any of that stuff to me after you're him."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll see if I don't. I'm not feeling really happy with you, Will." A minute later he adds, "Huh, here he is telling Mendoza to get his 'motherfucking ass in gear' and start moving some weed. I didn't know he dealt."<br/>
<br/>
"You knew Mendoza deals."<br/>
<br/>
"I was talking about Kirkham."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, why wouldn't he?" You shiver. "He seems the type."<br/>
<br/>
"You think so? It doesn't seem his style to me. It seems more like he'd take than deal. Oh my God."<br/>
<br/>
"What now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Just the way he talks to his friends. I sometimes feel like I give <i>you</i> too much shit, but I'm pretty sure it's not as much as he gives his friends. His texts are all dickface this and cunt-mouth that. Listen to this. <i>You ever open that cunt you use for a mouth again and I'll put my—</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I don't need to hear this! You're gonna be talking to me that way soon enough, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You catch him giving you a side-eye. "You could be the one putting on his mask, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I could," you admit. "And if we're gonna take turns, I guess I will, if we can't find a way to fix him. But someone's gotta go first—"<br/>
<br/>
"And it's gotta be me. How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I just got back to being myself. Same with Gordon. It's nice being back." <i>Besides,</i> you add, just not aloud, <i>I'm kind of enjoying getting to go up to the loft and be Gordon's friend, and I don't want some magical robot having that fun instead of me.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll do it for a week," Caleb says, "just to be a pal about it. But next Monday, you or Gordon are gonna—"<br/>
<br/>
"What if you wind up liking it?" you shoot back. You don't know why you said it, except to be contrary, but you did.<br/>
<br/>
"Me? Like being this cunt-mouthed dick-face?" Caleb replies, incredulous.<br/>
<br/>
"It can't be that much of a change of pace for you."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a look. "Fuck you too, man."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The sun is down and the western sky is awash with violets and purples when you and Caleb get back to Westside. You've told your parents that you're eating over at Caleb's, and a new Caleb Johansson has gone home to take your friend's place. Caleb, in a change of clothes that you snagged on your way out to the old school, has finished going through all the most recent of Kirkham's texts. They're all nasty, even the ones to his brother, except for a handful that he has exchanged with Nathan Cruz. That by itself is a surprise, that Kirkham should be on courteous terms with a member of the swim team, but the real surprise, which Caleb only confirmed after checking Kirkham's calendar, is that your nemesis plays and studies the cello, and is a member of an amateur string quartet. It's like discovering that Jeffrey Dahmer dabbles in watercolors in his spare time.<br/>
<br/>
You turn into the teacher's lot, and bump your truck over the curb to drive it between the main building and the Music Annex out toward the portables. Gordon, alerted by text ahead of time, is standing guard at the corner of the closest one. The fossilized David Kirkham is ... "standing" ... next to him, leaning against the wall of the portable.<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb hop out to help, but Gordon with astonishing ease simply grabs the statue around the hips and groin and heaves it up, so that you only have to lower the gate to the truck bed and then help Gordon lower the thing into the back. You cover it with a tarp, then hop out as Caleb closes the gate. You say nothing as Gordon lumbers back over to the portable, to sweep up a mask and a set of clothes, which he hands to Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"So what are you two queers gonna do now?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You blink at the echo of the epithets that Kirkham liked to throw at his friends, and it reminds you now that not all name-calling is sincere. It depends on context. Only a few weeks ago, if Gordon had called you and Caleb "queers," he would have meant it in the worst possible way, and you'd have taken it that way. Now, it's almost like an endearment, even though his face is a cold and unsmiling mask as he says it.<br/>
<br/>
"I already sent my guy home," Caleb says. There's a slight quaver in his voice, so maybe he didn't read Gordon's insult the way you did. "I guess you can go home, hang out with him."<br/>
<br/>
"I have homework," you say. "I should go home."<br/>
<br/>
"What'll <i>I</i> do?" Caleb then asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Pff! Put the mask on and go back to Kirkham's house. Dur. Oh. Before I forget." From your back pocket you pull Kirkham's wallet, and add it to the pile that Caleb is holding.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna know anything about him," Caleb protests. "Not if the same thing happens with this mask as with the others. Not until, like, tomorrow morning?"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't do a sleepover at my place," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"But I could hang out at your place," Caleb says. Then he looks at Gordon. "Or—"<br/>
<br/>
At that moment Kirkham's phone chimes. Caleb almost drops everything as he shifts his burden to take it out. He pales as he reads the text. "Shit, it's his mom, she's asking where supper is. The fuck? I don't have any idea what's supposed to be going on out there!"<span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211112122211111121111331
author_id: seuzz
id: DPJVD3SN9
title: Anticipation and Transfiguration
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"Tell her that you're out with, um, Chen, and you lost track of things," you suggest to Caleb. "And that you won't be home until late."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna get in a lot of trouble, aren't I?" Caleb murmurs as he thumbs at the screen.<br/>
<br/>
"As long as you don't call her a cunt mouth, you'll be fine," you assure him. He shoots you a beady glance.<br/>
<br/>
"So I'm not going home?" he guardedly asks after sending the reply.<br/>
<br/>
"You can come home with me. You can help me with my math. But you gotta go home after that, man. You gotta get on the horse sometime."<br/>
<br/>
"On the jackass, you mean," Caleb retorts.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So, supper at the Kirkhams' gets sorted out via text as you're driving back to the elementary school (Gordon following in his Bug): Mrs. Kirkham asks if she's supposed to eat leftovers, and Caleb, after a hard gulp, replies <i>Yes,</i> which at least earns no rebuke worse than an <i>ok.</i> At the school, you and Caleb help Gordon lug the thing down into the black and dank basement, where you shove it in a corner between some bookshelves, and pile some loose boards over it to hide it. If you're lucky, no one will ever break into your clubhouse to find it. If you're unlucky, maybe no one will think the thing odder than a brilliantly executed statue of a nude, teenage boy.<br/>
<br/>
After that, Gordon drives back to the Johanssons', while you and Caleb go back to your place. (Kirkham's mask and clothes you leave in the floorboard of your truck.) Your parents—your dad in particular—greet Caleb with friendly cheer. Not actually having eaten, you plead the need for a second supper, and you and Caleb raid the fridge for leftovers: pork chops, apple sauce, asparagus, and a three-bean salad. With plates piled over with food, you go upstairs to your bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb amuses—or horrifies—himself by reading again through Kirkham's texts, paying special attention to the ones from his friends asking how "the faggot's" beatdown went. Caleb is inclined to answer in detail about how he whaled on you, but you persuade him to hold off, reminding him that you want the new "Kirkham" to go easier on you. Caleb is dubious—"He was going to fucking kill you, Will, he told you so himself"—but you persuade him to answer the texts with nothing more detailed than an enigmatic, <i>Busy now, tell you later.</i> To Chen's further query, <i>Is it my turn with the little faggot tomorrow?</i> you let Caleb at least reply with <i>Fuck you, he's mine,</i> which leaves him gasping, white-faced, but also giggling. You remind him that come tomorrow morning, when he will be in David Kirkham's face and form, and with his memories and instincts, such a reply will not only be easier to send, it will probably feel totally natural.<br/>
<br/>
And then, after flopping onto your bed and throwing out his arms, Caleb says to the ceiling, "I'm not gonna lie, Will, I'm think I'm starting to look forward to tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were pissed off that we were making you do this."<br/>
<br/>
"I am, still, sort of. Mostly. But I'm also thinking—"<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates. Then he turns onto his side and gives you a very serious look. "I'm thinking about when you and Gordon switched places," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well— It was a big change for you guys," he says. "You especially, I guess. It wasn't like when you and me switched places. You and Gordon, you're a lot different from each other."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know."<br/>
<br/>
"It was kind of fun for you, wasn't it? Being so different?"<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't any fun being Gordon. I mean, his life—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but aside from that. And I <i>am</i> worried about what Kirkham's life is going to be like. I mean, fuck! How fucked up does a guy's life have to be to turn out like him? But it's gonna be ... way different for me. And that's kind of exciting." He falls onto his back again, to stare thoughtfully at the ceiling. You just agree that it's going to be different for him, and let the subject lapse.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Along about nine o'clock, Caleb texts his mother-to-be to report that it will be eleven before he gets home—to test out her reaction—and again only gets an <i>okay</i> back. Then at a little before ten, you head out with him, supposedly (you tell your folks) to take him home, but actually to drive him back out to Westside so he can make the switch and pick up Kirkham's car. Even after you're at the school, parked next to what you presume is the sedan that Kirkham drives, you and Caleb are reluctant to part. "So when am I going to see you tomorrow?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. I'll see you around, play it by ear."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I'm afraid of."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna <i>hit</i> you, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"You might have to, to make it look good."<br/>
<br/>
"Worst is, I'll haul you out to the portables for a smackdown, and we'll talk out there."<br/>
<br/>
You nod at this, then catch yourself. "That won't work either," you tell Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos the whole reason I'm in this mess is because I'm not letting assholes like Kirkham do that to me. I'm gonna have to fight you back."<br/>
<br/>
"No you won't."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes I will. I got cred now that I have to keep up—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, there's your problem."<br/>
<br/>
"—and I'm not gonna throw it away by letting you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright! Shit. We'll think of something tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." You shrug. "Maybe we should just avoid each other. You can act like I finally taught you— Well, that I taught <i>Kirkham</i> to leave me alone."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you really think you could'a done that?"<br/>
<br/>
You wince.<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me," you reply. "Tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
He's just climbing into the sedan as you drive out of the parking lot, and you stare at the silhouette of his head bobbing inside the dark cabin of the car as you roar off down Borman back toward home.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's still dark when you wake with a start and feel for the chiming phone under your pillow. You are still half-asleep as you pull it out and fumble for the alarm. Only after you see that it is not even six o'clock yet do you realize that the alert was for a text. You blink, struggle into an upright position, and open up the messenger app.<br/>
<br/>
It's a text from David Kirkham, a new one that has just popped under the last one he sent yesterday. That one read <i>I'm sending u to the morgue,</i> and with that as context the new one is almost terrifying: <i>Meet me 630 salvation donuts.</i><br/>
<br/>
You shake your head clear, and still your beating heart when you remind yourself that it's only Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
<i>But what does he want to meet me so early for?</i> you wonder as you stumble out of your bedroom to the shower. <i>Something wrong with the mask?</i> You're not sure what else could be such an emergency. <i>Ok,</i> you reply as you turn on the water.<br/>
<br/>
Salvation Donuts is on the way to Westside, so you pack up all your school work and shoot Caleb a text telling him you'll be a little late getting there. No matter. You get there first, and are sitting at a tiny table by the plate glass window, slowly eating a fresh maple-glazed donut and nursing a small coffee, when the figure of David Kirkham comes swaggering up out of the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
Almost you shit yourself, because if it isn't the real fucker, it's a perfect replica.<br/>
<br/>
It's a dark day under lowering clouds, and the thermometer is hovering at around forty-five degrees, but he's dressed like it's summer, in trim khaki shorts and a short-sleeve polo shirt. His tinted glasses, as always, hide his eyes, and he rolls a toothpick about in his mouth as he turns to look at you after entering the shop. For a count of three (it seems) he regards you with amused contempt before softly intoning, "Well, fuck me. The little pissant comes when he's called."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you reply, and the choke in your voice at least covers the slight stammer you feel. He chomps hard, white teeth down on that toothpick in a grin, then saunters over to the counter to order a muffin and a coffee. He gives you a half-glance over his shoulder as he takes out his wallet to pay for it.<br/>
<br/>
You can't help rearing back as he comes over, to pull out the chair opposite you by hooking a foot around its leg. He drops into his seat with a soft grunt, sets his muffin and coffee in front of him, then leans back to study you from behind folded arms. (Folded arms which bulge noticeably with biceps.) After a moment spent coolly studying you, he says, in a low voice through unmoving lips, "So how do I look?"<br/>
<br/>
"Perfect. How's the, uh—" You touch your temple.<br/>
<br/>
"Got it." He snorts. "God damn it, but he hates your fucking guts."<br/>
<br/>
You sag. "So what are we going to do about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's how come I wanted to talk to you early, and here. Mendoza likes to stop in on his way to school, and I'm hoping he catches us."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?" you ask in alarm.<br/>
<br/>
His lip curls in an amused sneer.<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos it'll give us a chance to explain to him how you and me bonded yesterday an' are now best buds."<span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111121222111111211113311
author_id: seuzz
id: ND2QFVPB9
title: How to Change an Enemy Into a Friend
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"What do you mean, 'best buds'?" you sputter. "How does that—? How could—? That wouldn't make sense!"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe not," David Kirkham complacently retorts. "But I could make it work."<br/>
<br/>
<i>How?</i> you want to yell back. But instead you just demand that this apparition—your friend Caleb Johansson, disguised perfectly as David Kirkham—explain exactly what he means.<br/>
<br/>
"So, why were you and him fighting? You and Kirkham, I mean," he says. His shoulders and arms flex and strain as he tightens his folded arms across his chest. "It was 'cos—how'd you put it? You wanted to make yourself more trouble than you were worth?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod.<br/>
<br/>
He nods too. "So maybe you should'a fuckin' explained that to him," he says. "Kirkham just thought you were being a little fucking pain in the ass. Which you were." He removes the toothpick from his mouth and stabs it into the muffin. "And between you and me, Will, this whole 'more trouble than you're worth' shit is just that. Just a line of shit. I can't fuckin' believe you let Gordon talk you into it."<br/>
<br/>
He lifts his coffee, and stares at you over the rim as he drinks.<br/>
<br/>
"But," he continues as he sets the cup back down, "if you'd explained it that way to Kirkham—" <br/>
<br/>
He breaks off. You wait for him to finish his thought. Instead, he cocks his head as he regards you, then snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck," he mutters. "Nah, that wouldn'a worked either, it wouldn'a made no difference. He'd'a still beat the shit out of you just for being such a goddamned pest. 'More trouble than I'm worth'," he sneers. "It's so fucking pathetic, now that I say it out loud. It just makes me want to beat on you harder, so you'll <i>learn</i> you're not worth shit." <br/>
<br/>
His jaw muscles work, and he pushes the chair onto its back legs as he continues to study you. You answer by going back to work on your own donut and coffee.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I think I'll have to sell it this way," he says after a thoughtful silence. "I finally had you face down on the ground, with your elbow bent back behind your head, and I asked you how come you wouldn't stop fighting. And you said, 'Cos I'll fuck myself before I <i>stop</i> fighting you'."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs, then picks his coffee back up. "And that's when I let you go."<br/>
<br/>
You stare, then glance around the donut shop. There's a fat guy in a seed cap on the other side of the dining area, hunched over a Tablet with his donut and coffee. The doughy woman behind the counter is studiously scrolling through her phone. Kirkham's voice can't help carrying inside the echoing interior of the shop, and you wonder what these other two have made of what he said—if they've been listening at all.<br/>
<br/>
You over the table to answer him in a low voice. "And that's what Kirkham would'a done if I'd said that? Let me up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Prob'ly not," he admits as he falls forward again. "But like I say, I think I can sell it. It's not so different from how Kirkham acted in middle school. Chen, too."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"They went to Proctor. It was kind of a tough school. Most of the assholes at Westside came outta Proctor. Anyway, Kirkham, and Chen too, they got hassled hard by the big guys. But they fought back."<br/>
<br/>
"So they tried to be more trouble than they were worth?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck that," he growls. "That's not what Kirkham and Chen were doing when they hit guys like Black and Patterson back. Jesus. They don't care if they're 'more trouble than they're worth'. They just hit back 'cos—"<br/>
<br/>
He lifts his coffee to you in a kind of toast.<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos they'd go fuck themselves before they ever stopped hitting back."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb warns you that it's gonna be hard being his "friend," even with the story he's going to try telling. But to help sell it he also tells you the story you're going to have to give others. <i>Tells it to you</i>? He practically acts it out in front of you by waving his clenched fists around as he demonstrates each blow and counterblow.<br/>
<br/>
So, according to him:<br/>
<br/>
You and he met up yesterday at the school—Gordon was never there, in this version—and he got you onto the ground quick. But after letting you up—"Get up, you fucking pussy," he taunted you—you flew up at him and went back to work on his chest and body. He put you down again, and kneed you in the back until you were still. But then, though you were slow and groggy, you got up and threw another punch at him. Again, he put you down, and this time he bent your arm back hard and told him you'd have to suck his cock if you ever wanted to get on your feet again. You told him to go fuck himself. That's when he asked his question, and you gave your answer.<br/>
<br/>
And then?<br/>
<br/>
And then he let you up, and you staggered at him one more time. But this time he just pushed you back and told you to calm yourself the fuck down, and when you didn't, he slapped you hard across the face and again asked how come you didn't give up, and again you gave him that answer— <br/>
<br/>
And that's when he suggested going out to get coffee someplace and talk about it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That,</i> you suspect, <i>is where it's going to start sounding like a total fantasy.</i><br/>
<br/>
So (he goes on) you and him drove out in his car to the Milagro Beanfield Warehouse—"Ain't nobody I know would ever be out there, and see we weren't"—and over coffee (each of you paying for your own, because it's not like either of you is a faggot) he asked when you decided to stop being such a fucking pussy, and you said you'd just got tired of it. He'd snorted that, and though he didn't say anything aloud he admitted to himself that you'd at least made a start at it.<br/>
<br/>
Then you'd talked a little about classes and people at school you both knew. There hadn't been any gay-ass handshakes or anything like that when you parted, not even a curt "See ya at school." He didn't even give you a ride back to Westside, he just left you at Milagro to call up a friend to come pick you up. (It was Johansson, he informs you, that you called.) And that was all.<br/>
<br/>
So no (he now decides after he's finished this improvisation), you and him are not suddenly "best buds." You're just two guys warily sizing each other up after deciding not to hassle each other any more.<br/>
<br/>
And how are you going to explain to Mendoza, if he shows up, why the two of you are hanging out here at the donut shop?<br/>
<br/>
Caleb isn't able to answer before Mendoza himself actually does come in.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You see him first, because you're facing the door. You drop your eyes and mutter, "Mendoza's coming."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't shit yourself, Prescott," Kirkham mutters back. He picks up his coffee and kicks his chair onto its back legs. "Just follow my lead."<br/>
<br/>
Mendoza does a double take when he sees you, but he doesn't come over until he's also done a double take at the back of Kirkham's head. Then, after a fractional hesitation, he trudges over. "Hey man," he says, and slaps Kirkham lightly on the shoulder. But it's you he's watching.<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham glances back and up at him. "The fuck're you doing here?" he softly demands. "You're already so fat you can barely get up and down the fuckin' soccer field. 'S'what Chen tells me, anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, I need my energy boost."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, to get your fat ass up and down the field. Jesus." Then, as Mendoza continues to study you, he adds, "Fuck me, are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna get yourself a fucking donut or twelve?"<br/>
<br/>
Mendoza retreats to the counter.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you believe that lump'a fuckin' lard's on our soccer team?" Kirkham sneers to you, loud enough for Mendoza to hear. "It's a fuckin' sad state of affairs, man."<br/>
<br/>
You scramble for a reply, but can only come up with, "I hear the team's pretty good this year."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck you know about soccer?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know what I hear."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, an' who's the dumbass you hear it from?" He lifts his chin.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't remember. Isn't Chen on the team?"<br/>
<br/>
You can barely hear his reply, which he gives through frozen lips. "Don't try sucking up to me, Will."<br/>
<br/>
Talk lapses until Mendoza returns with a small paper plate heaped over with five donuts, three of them jelly-filled. He looks between you and Kirkham uncertainly, then drags a chair over to sit between you. Kirkham snorts at him. "How fucking pudgy you plan on being when you graduate?" Mendoza replies with an even stare as he jams half a donut into his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck me," Kirkham says with a shake of his head. "Oh, you know Prescott, right?" Mendoza turns that very even look onto you. "Oh, fuck, 'course you remember him." Kirkham chortles. "You had that nice little chat with each other on Monday, didn't you? Jesus. You know, if you choke on one of those things, maybe Prescott'll be nice enough to give you the Heimlich maneuver with his foot, like he did the other morning."<br/>
<br/>
Still, Mendoza says nothing. There's no emotion in his eyes, either. Just a dead, blank stare into your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
There's an awkward pause. Then Kirkham, his lip curling into a faint, leering sneer, announces that he has to use the head before taking off to school. That leaves you and the Mendoza alone with each other.<br/>
<br/>
When you can stand the silence no longer, you say, "It wasn't personal, the other morning."<br/>
<br/>
He looks up from his donuts with that same dead-eyed, glazed look in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
"Wasn't personal with me either," he says in a carefully neutral voice.<span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321121111212221111112111133111
author_id: seuzz
id: U6QWZX3FZ
title: When Worlds Collide
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You and Mendoza ignore each other until Kirkham comes back out. The latter only wishes you an off-hand "See you around, Prescott," before turning to the door. Mendoza, clearly surprised, grabs up what's left of his breakfast and scrambles out after him. There's just the briefest colloquy on the sidewalk outside the store, and then each one stumps off toward his respective car.<br/>
<br/>
After they are gone, you realize that you feel like you've been holding your breath for the past half-hour. You toss back the last of your coffee—very cold by now—and after the other two have driven off hurry outside to your truck.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So, it sounds like Caleb has it planned out about as well as it could go. Not only is he, as "David Kirkham," going to lay off you, he's going to be semi-polite, at least. (You try not to dwell on his warning that it's going to be "rough" being his friend, and can only hope that the shit-talk he gave you and Mendoza is the worst you have to look forward to.) And it also looks like his friends (if Mendoza's behavior is anything to go by) will follow his lead, at least to the extent of also leaving you alone.<br/>
<br/>
But will you and he be able to hang out together? Well, you'll have to see.<br/>
<br/>
On the way in to school, you beguile yourself by imagining what it must be like from Caleb's perspective. He told you last night that he was actually kind of looking forward to the impersonation, as Kirkham's personality seems so different from his. He certainly seemed to be in character. This morning. But what was it like for him?<br/>
<br/>
You can't remember much of Gordon's life, even while you were being him, but you do remember what it was like to walk around inside his body, and to have people look at you and treat you like you were the captain of the basketball team: What it was like to walk around looking <i>down</i> on the tops of people's heads, and effortlessly pushing them out of the way in the hallways, and to have them look up at you with fear and respect or with just a little uncertainty. As for the "personality" you wore, that you remember far less clearly. Mostly you remember just feeling tired of people and of school.<br/>
<br/>
So does that give you any clues about what Caleb is feeling?<br/>
<br/>
Well, he probably has the feeling—if Kirkham's usual behavior is any guide—of knowing he's a bad-ass. But is he enjoying it? If he is, is it because he's enjoying playacting as Kirkham, or because Kirkham enjoys it? Does Kirkham enjoy being a bad-ass? Or is that just the way he is?<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm going to have to talk to him about it,</i> you decide as you push with an absent-minded introspection through the hallways to your first class. But how will you set up your next meeting? (Surely he will want to get together—there's a new spell to look over.) Should you text him or go looking for him? Would it even be safe approaching him in his new guise? Or should you wait for him come to you?<br/>
<br/>
That's what you're wondering when you turn into Mr. Walberg's classroom. You stop dead and nearly drop your books when you see Caleb himself sitting in his regular chair, looking back at you with a veiled but quizzical smile.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Silly you, it takes an absurdly long time to realize it isn't Caleb, out of Kirkham's mask and resuming his own existence, but the golem you and he released yesterday afternoon. Even then, you are so disoriented that you're still not sure it isn't the real guy, even when he leans over to whisper, "Everything go okay with the boss after I left yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you stammer. "We went back to my place, hung out until ten or so, then he, uh, went off to do the thing. I saw him this morning, it's all working out."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. Um— Are we gonna start hanging out?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. We didn't talk about it."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb nods. Then he leans over again to ask, "Is he okay with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"With the—? With being—?" You feel a little green, as you remember the act he put on. "I think he's fine. If I see him this afternoon, you want to come along?"<br/>
<br/>
He pales. "Nah, that's okay," he mumbles. "I, uh, think it would be a little weird."<br/>
<br/>
You nod. It's weird enough for you talking to someone who looks and acts just like your friend, but who isn't.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You text Gordon—which you'd forgotten to do earlier—during the run-up to classes, telling him that Caleb is in place and everything is okay. You also tell him you won't be up in the loft third period. He texts back an acknowledgement, and suggests all three of you meet after school at the old basement to look at the next spell. You're about to text Caleb—the real one—with Gordon's suggestion, but he texts you first: <i>Meet me after school on weight deck.</i><br/>
<br/>
The rest of the school day is routine. After the final bell, you head to the gym, where you find David Kirkham waiting, in cotton shorts and a floppy t-shirt, on the elevated mezzanine where the weight machines are kept. He jerks his chin in greeting. "Was wondering if you were gonna be too chicken-shit to show up."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm up for whatever, man."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, don't be so sure about that. Anyway, if you're gonna keep on like you say you want to, you're gonna have to put on some more mass. I ain't gonna be your fuckin' trainer or nothin', but I figure I—"<br/>
<br/>
He stops dead, his gaze directed over the restraining rail to the gym floor below, where the basketball team is beginning to trickle out from the changing room for post-class practice.<br/>
<br/>
"Lookit them fuckin' queers," he sneers. "You wouldn' never fuckin' catch <i>me</i> down there doing that."<br/>
<br/>
"Doing what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Team fucking sports, that's what."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't play basketball?"<br/>
<br/>
He turns to give you the same kind of level stare that Mendoza favored you with this morning.<br/>
<br/>
"I know how to handle a basketball, dipshit," he says. "Fuckin' Coach Brooks, my freshman year? He wanted me on the JV squad, right alongside them cocksuckers down there, 'cluding Black and Patterson. But I told 'im where he could put his basketballs, and any other balls he didn't know enough what to do with." He shakes his head. "One on one, man. That's the only fuckin' way that matters how you do anything."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jesus,</i> you think. <i>Caleb's getting into it. That's the only reason he'd act this way when it's only us up here.</i><br/>
<br/>
But then it isn't just you and him up there. Jason Lynch is suddenly there with you.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey there, Willie-boy!" he calls out cheerfully from the head of the stairs. His glance cools as it settles on Kirkham. But he doesn't address him before turning back to you. "Y'up here fer a workout?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Oh, um, Steve showed me on Saturday how the, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help swallowing as Jason, with a tight but cheery smile, closes in on you and Kirkham. He ignores the latter to concentrate on you, even as Kirkham stares at him hard.<br/>
<br/>
"Well that was nice of Steve-o," Lynch says. "Gordon put him up to it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I— Yeah, Gordon asked him to show me, I think he said."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's the only way that cocksucker'd do anyone a favor. But if yer here fer a workout, I can spot you."<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham, silent to this point, jumps in. "The fuck you think I was up here for?"<br/>
<br/>
Jason only glances at him. "I 'unno. What was you up here for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look," Kirkham says, "you wanna have yourself a workout, there's lots of room over there. Me and Prescott—"<br/>
<br/>
Jason's eyes glint as he glances between you and Kirkham. "Am I in'erruptin' something private here? You guys want some alone time wi' each other?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart plunges as Kirkham yanks the toothpick from his mouth and flings it at the floor. With one hand he shoves Jason in the shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
At least you have the presence of mind to spring between them before Jason can hurl himself at your other friend. "Hey hey hey! hold up—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Outta the fuckin' way, man!" Jason yells as he tries to claw past you.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna fuck with me?" Kirkham hisses back.<br/>
<br/>
"Stop it, both of you!" You push a red-faced Lynch back, then wheel to shove Kirkham in the chest as he rushes in. They both glare past you at each other. "You wanna fight, take it outside, not here! Someone'll fucking crack his skull on a machine!"<br/>
<br/>
"Front quad," Kirkham tells Lynch. "Now. So everyone'll see."<br/>
<br/>
"Happy to!" Lynch snarls.<br/>
<br/>
"That wasn't—!" you start to protest, but both guys are already hustling for the stairs. You start to follow, but glance first down at the gym floor first.<br/>
<br/>
Half a dozen guys in Westside basketball uniforms are looking back at you. Gordon isn't one of them—he must still be changing out—but Patterson is down there. He's watching you with a gnomic but speculative look on his face.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself flushing as you hurry after Lynch and Kirkham. Halfway down the steps you ask yourself, <i>How did I manage to get myself in the middle between </i>these<i> two guys?</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's nothing you can do to stop the fight, so you only watch anxiously—along with a few dozen other students—as Lynch and Kirkham, who seem evenly matched, wrestle fiercely. Neither is able to get the upper hand before Mr. Staufford comes out to break up the fight. He instantly gives each of them a one-day detention, starting tomorrow, after school.<br/>
<br/>
And then he lays a tight grip on your shoulder, and reminds you that <i>you</i> were supposed to be in your detention ten minutes ago.<br/>
<br/>
On the way to the office, with him still gripping you by the nape of the neck, you get a text from Kirkham: <i>That was fucking awesome!</i><span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211112122211111121111331111
author_id: seuzz
id: EH65FTLJ8
title: A Stolen Life
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"'Cos I been wanting to give that fucker shit back for the longest fucking time," David Kirkham gloats in answer to your question. You glance over nervously at Gordon, who is hunched over the spell book.<br/>
<br/>
It's after eight, and the three of you are in the basement for that "afterschool" meeting that went sideways, thanks to the detention you forgot and then other commitments at home. You and Caleb (still in Kirkham's mask, of course) are sitting cross-legged on the conference table while Gordon slouches in that swivel chair he dug out from the back of the basement.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you should dial it back a bit," you advise Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Dial what back?"<br/>
<br/>
"The act. Come on, it's only us here. You don't gotta impress anyone." Still, you can't help casting another glance back at Gordon, who has been mulishly silent while Caleb relives the fight he had at school with Gordon's friend.<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham rolls the toothpick around in his mouth, then shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"In that case"—you reach out to pull the toothpick from his mouth, and fling it away—"you don't need that."<br/>
<br/>
He groans and falls onto his side.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck am I even here for, then?" he sighs. "When I could be off someplace with Mindy McAdams, scratching this itch she's got way up inside her pussy—"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Yo! Black! You finding us anything good in there?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon looks up at you from under those very level brows.<br/>
<br/>
"It looks like the same ingredients as the last spell," he says. "Except it doesn't need a body. And it doesn't need as much dirt. Only about the same—" He flips back a page. "Yeah, about the same amount as the other spell."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what do you do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't got that far yet."<br/>
<br/>
Yes, Gordon is reading the next spell. And the wonder of it is, he is studying it without using a translator.<br/>
<br/>
It was a surprise he had for you when you met up: He had made another mask and brain strip last night, while you and Caleb were at your place. But instead of gluing them together, he took the strip up to school with him, and slapped it onto James Lamont (after first hauling up to the loft). He was looking for a "brain donor" from the AP Latin II class, and since he has a grudge against Lamont anyway (and against his friend Carson Ioeger) he chose Lamont when Lamont came loping out of the classroom.<br/>
<br/>
And now, wearing the band, he is using Lamont's Latin skills to make a free translation of the next spell.<br/>
<br/>
Well, not entirely free. After pulling at his lip for a minute, he does dig his phone out to consult an online translator.<br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile, as he's busy with that, you quiz Caleb about David Kirkham and the life he has taken over.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it turns out it's not a lot different from my other one," he sighs. He sprawls on the table, propped on an elbow, and every now and then he glances down at his hands or rubs his thigh, as though reminding himself of where he is. "Except I've got a little brother now."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean Kirkham has a little brother." He seems to have mostly relaxed out of his assumed persona, but you want to make sure he stays out of it.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He pulls off his tinted glasses and squeezes the bridge of his nose. Losing the glasses doesn't change his demeanor that much, for Kirkham has a heavy brow over deep-set eyes, which give him the affect of a feral animal glaring out from under cover with deadly intent. He folds and unfolds the arms of his eyeglasses as he talks.<br/>
<br/>
"So, he's got a single mother, and a brother in middle school," he says. "Same age as your brother, I guess. Is Robert in the eighth grade? Yeah, so is Tad. But his mom's sending Tad away, though. Money's tight."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's she sending him?" You can't imagine money in any family being so tight that someone would have to be "sent away," and though Robert can be a pain, it would nearly wreck you if your parents had to "send him away" because they didn't have enough money to support all four of you.<br/>
<br/>
"To his grandmother. She lives up in Adaberg, just outside it, on a farm. David and his brother spent last summer there for the same reason, so his mom could save up some money." His expression tightens. "Guess they spent their way through it."<br/>
<br/>
"What's she do? For a living, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"She's a nurse at an urgent care clinic." Then his brow furrows. "Now, hang on. The money from that can't be <i>that</i> bad," he muses. Then he shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe she's got medical school debts."<br/>
<br/>
"What happened to his dad?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. He doesn't know. He never knew his dad, doesn't remember him, never asked." His expression darkens as he pulls at his nose. "Guess he was just some fucker who knocked up his mom and then took off."<br/>
<br/>
Which would be worse than what Caleb's own dad did.<br/>
<br/>
"But the pisser of it is, Will, this motherfucker is gonna pull himself out of it. He's bound to. He's too fucking smart and too fucking determined not to. Fuck! It makes me realize how fucking much I've been slacking, and I feel like I've been working my <i>ass</i> off!"<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you say that?"<br/>
<br/>
"For a start—" He ticks off his fingers. "He's taking two AP math classes and an AP Physics class, and he's acing all of them. I mean, I'm in the same calculus and physics classes as him, but he's getting better grades than me. Plus, he's in the school orchestra. Plays the fucking cello."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon pipes up from the other side of the basement. "You didn't know that?"<br/>
<br/>
"No I didn't! I found out about it last night when I was checking his texts, but— He's taking lessons from a university professor! Guy's telling Kirkham he could be a pro! So he's in the school chamber orchestra, not just the regular orchestra, <i>and</i> he's in a string quartet that him and Nathan Cruz put together. They play gigs for money."<br/>
<br/>
"And he sells weed," you dryly add.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he doesn't sell, not exactly. Chen gives him a few grams he can do whatever he wants with. He smokes some it, sells some of it to guys if they ask him, but he doesn't push any. He does help Chen push some, and he rides Mendoza and the other guys that Chen uses to push the stuff. Fuck!" He laughs, and slides his glasses back on. "I hauled Tanner Evans out behind the music annex today, and pounded him double a couple of times. Fucker still hasn't sold his quota for the month, and a new batch is s'posed to come in in a day or two. I told him I'd make him buy it and eat it if he didn't move what he had left." He slides a new toothpick into his mouth and grins around it.<br/>
<br/>
And that completes the return of David Kirkham. You turn back to Gordon to ask him what he's found.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
With all the ingredients on hand, it takes only a few minutes to complete the spell. The powders, liquids and dirt go into a bowl set on the sigil and are set on fire. They burn only a minute or so, creating in a bowl of a goopy paste the same color as the rock-monsters you've already made. After that, you paint the inside of Gordon's mask until the surface is coated, then push a hank of his hair—it's his turn to make a contribution, given that you and Caleb have used your hair in earlier spells—into and set it on fire. This results in the characteristic purple flash of smoke, and then the inner surface of the mask is a glossy off-white color. But Gordon's name still seems to float above the surface.<br/>
<br/>
Setting the mask on the book unlocks the page, and the three of you gather round to read the continuation of the spell, to find out what it does.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb winds up being the one to understand and explain it. It appears, he says, that Gordon's mask, if placed on someone, will transform that person into a copy of Gordon: same as before. But the result will be a doppelganger under Gordon's control, that he can order around the way Caleb can order his doppelganger around. Then, when the mask is removed, it will restore the person to the state they were before.<br/>
<br/>
"And the genius of it is," Caleb concludes, "that the fucker we put the mask on won't remember what was going on after we take it off him. If he does, it's a design flaw."<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddayou mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"So, here's you can do with it." He is holding Gordon's mask, and he mimes pushing it onto your face. "Gordon uses it to turn you into him, only you, the new Gordon Black, have to do what Gordon says. But he's got a mask of <i>you,</i> okay? So he puts on that mask and turns himself into you. Now he's you, and also he's gotten rid of you so there's not Will Prescotts running around. <i>And</i> he's left a copy of himself behind so he hasn't disappeared. Fuck, it's practically like a body swap. But it's the genius part that really sells it.<br/>
<br/>
"The genius part?"<br/>
<br/>
"You have to act like Gordon when you're wearing the mask, and you have to do what he says. But when you take the mask off, you don't remember nothing. That way there's no evidence of after the masks come off. Things go back to normal."<br/>
<br/>
He turns the mask over and over in his hands, and muses, "You could use these things to steal someone's life, or just borrow it for a little while, and no one 'cept you would ever know what you did."<br/>
<br/>
An uneasy silence falls over the basement.<br/>
<br/>
Then Gordon takes the mask from Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta get back to your place," he says quietly. "I got homework I gotta do."<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine," Caleb says. "Me and Will can hang out." His nose quivers slightly as he eyes you from behind his shades.<span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111121222111111211113311111
author_id: seuzz
id: HDMX65Z7G
title: The Temptation To Be Another
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"I got some homework I gotta finish too," you tell the guys. It's a lie, but it's a convenient lead-in to your followup, to Caleb: "So, if you got some stuff to work on too, I guess you can bring it over to my place." You don't want to give Gordon the impression that you and Caleb have something special going on that excludes him.<br/>
<br/>
"Or we could bring it over to mine," Kirkham counters.<br/>
<br/>
"Might be weird?" you suggest. "If someone comes over to your place, and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, I'll follow you out." He turns to Gordon. "Or we could all head back to my real place, and we could make it a party."<br/>
<br/>
"I got my shit done already," Gordon says. He sounds distracted. "I'm just gonna go online, watch some games probably. See you around." He shuffles off.<br/>
<br/>
After he's out the door, Kirkham punches you between your shoulder blades.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon'll be fine," he assures you. "He's just got stuff to think about. He'll let us know what he's thinking when he's ready. And maybe we got stuff to talk about t0o."<br/>
<br/>
You glance at him, but his expression is inscrutable behind those tinted glasses.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
David Kirkham saunters into your living room with a panther-like grace. It feels very weird having him in your house, and you have to fight to keep the quaver from your voice as you introduce him to your folks, as a friend from school come to work on a project together. He greets them with great politeness, and even tells them, "Will's been doing all the work, told me I had to come over and help finish it or he'd mess me up." Your folks laugh a little uncertainly at that.<br/>
<br/>
Then, at the top of the stairs, you bump into Robert, and make another, more hurried introduction. Kirkham calls your brother "champ" and invites him to do a high-five, which Robert quizzically returns before squeezing past into the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you acting like?" you ask after you're in the bedroom with the door closed. "Yourself or Kirkham?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I was acting like myself," he says as he dumps his backpack on your bed. He tilts his chin back. "Why, does it seem like I'm acting like him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." The weirdness of it: even knowing it's Caleb, having the face and form of David Kirkham in your house makes you feel itchy all over. "Maybe your just looking like him is enough"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I've wondered about that." He launches himself onto your bed with a grunt, and stretches out on it on his side. "Wondered if we even really need those metal mind strip things to go in the masks. I mean, we do need them if we're supposed to know what these fuckers know. But as far as fooling other people, I'm almost thinking ninety-nine percent of it's just how you look."<br/>
<br/>
And, in his athletic shorts and t-shirt, with his strong legs, and his flat, gnomic expression behind those glasses, under that thatch of dark hair ... Yeah, you'd totally buy it was David Kirkham stretched out on your bed, regardless of how he acts.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," you sigh after settling at your desk, "I don't actually have any homework I have to do, I finished it all when I was in detention."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, by the way, how'd you manage to forget you had that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Did <i>you</i> remember I had detention?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Else I wouldn'a told you to meet me after school up on the weight deck. But how come you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"What was the deal between you and Lynch?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean, what was the deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, why'd you go after him?"<br/>
<br/>
He snorts. "Lynch is a fuck-faced cocksucker with a tiny dick. What part of what happened don't you understand?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it kind of put me in a tough place. I'm trying to be friends with him—"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need friends like fucking Lynch."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I <i>am</i> his friend already. Sort of. I've got a key to the loft now."<br/>
<br/>
"No shit? When're you gonna take me up there to look around?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not. Patterson's already telling me he's gonna fuck me up any day now, and if he catches me with you up there—"<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck you wanna be friends with guys like him and Lynch for?" he snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Why the fuck do I wanna be friends with <i>David Kirkham?</i> I mean," you lamely add when his expression freezes, "aside from the <i>obvious</i> fact that he's really you?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what makes the difference. I hope."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Lynch and Patterson are friends with Gordon," you riposte.<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. <br/>
<br/>
"You know," he confesses, "I've actually have kind of forgotten that Gordon's friends with them. Can you believe it? I mean, I know you've been shitting yourself about him and me getting along, worrying like you think I'm be like a jealous girlfriend or something. But," he continues, ignoring your frown, "I think we're getting along fine since he moved in. He's almost human, so I don't really think about who he is and who he's friends with, I guess." <br/>
<br/>
He sighs again. "But yeah, I guess I did kind of fuck things up for you today. But you can handle it. That thing was just between me and Lynch, you didn't have anything to do with it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You change the subject, and ask what he thinks of that new spell.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," he admits. "It makes things interesting, you know? Maybe too interesting."<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?" he snorts. "Like, look at me now. Only reason I'm doing this is because we accidentally flash-froze the real ass-sucker. But if I'd <i>wanted</i> to be him, I'd'a still had to do something to get him out of the way. And you know," he adds, as he lifts his hand and studies the palm, waggling his fingers gently, "getting someone out of the way ... Well, that ain't something even David Kirkham's ready to do."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause as you both contemplate what it would be to "get someone out of the way" so you could assume their identity.<br/>
<br/>
"But," Caleb continues, "with this new spell." He mimes pushing a mask onto someone's face. "You just pop a copy of your old face onto the fucker, and put a copy of him onto yourself. And then when you wanna change back, you just pull the masks off, and you and him go back to being yourselves. No one's gone, not permanently. At least, that's how we're figuring it works, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"We might be wrong."<br/>
<br/>
"We aren't. Though maybe we should test it. Or maybe not."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because what if it does work that way? Then you don't gotta worry about hurtin' someone when you want to, you know, switch with them. It's a lot easier than the flash-freezing method. And a lot more tempting, you know, since you're not ... putting them away permanently."<br/>
<br/>
He falls silent, to regard you from behind his shades. You return his gaze with an unblinking one of your own.<br/>
<br/>
You ask, "Are you thinking about someone you might want to switch with?"<br/>
<br/>
"I already switched with someone. I could switch back. Just hang this mask on that thing we made."<br/>
<br/>
"But after that, there might be someone else you want to switch with."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he confesses. "And I'm thinking about how easy that could be."<br/>
<br/>
Another awkward silence falls. You shift in your chair, and look everywhere except at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," he finally says, and sits up. "Maybe this is something we should think about before we talk it over some more, talk it over with the three of us. Oh," he adds as he gets to his feet, "you should skip Walberg tomorrow, come hang out with me at the portables. We'll hang out with some of the guys, start making it look like it's not weird, you and me hanging out."<br/>
<br/>
"It'll always look weird," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a sidelong look. "Then maybe you should switch with someone who it won't look weird with?"<br/>
<br/>
A chill settles over your shoulders. "Like Mendoza? Chen?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, no, not with them cocksuckers. Specially not Chen. Fuck me, that's a dude with some heavy shit in his life. No, but out at the portables tomorrow, you can run your eye over some other guys. Justin Roth'd be a good one. Perfect one, actually. Dude's usually so baked he doesn't know if he's coming or going, you could switch in and out of him and he'd never know anything's going on."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug, and he shrugs too. You accompany out of your room and as far as the front door.<br/>
<br/>
"Your friend didn't stay long," your mom observes after he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Turns out we didn't have that much to talk about." You go back upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As Caleb said, you now have a lot to think about.<br/>
<br/>
He's right that switching with someone else would be an easy way of keeping close to him, so long as he's being Kirkham. But how long does he want to play Kirkham's part? You wonder if your switching with one of Kirkham's friends would be such a good idea, if it tempts Caleb to keep up this impersonation. Maybe it's best to stay as yourself, if for no other reason than to give him a reason to return to being himself.<br/>
<br/>
Also, wouldn't it feel like a confession of weakness or even self-contempt if you switched identities with someone else? Since returning to your own identity, you feel stronger and more confident in your own skin. It would feel like a setback if you hared off to be someone else.<br/>
<br/>
As you settle into bed, though, another thought disturbs the encroaching sense of slumber. You "tamed" Kirkham by switching Caleb into him. There are other people who could stand some "taming." Gordon, you are sure, would never stand for Patterson and Lynch being so tamed.<br/>
<br/>
But what about some of the others? The Molester, Seth Javits, some of the football players. If that's what you did, you could still feel comfortable in your own skin while still wearing theirs. Because you'd be doing it for the sake of other people—other victims—and not yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe that's just another rationalization.<span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111121222111111211113311112
author_id: seuzz
id: GVKPYY9CD
title: The Temptation To Be What Another Wants
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"I got some homework I gotta finish too," you tell the guys. It's a lie, but you don't feel much like hanging out with Caleb, not in his new persona. You can tell he's trying not to act like David Kirkham, but just looking at him gives you a bit of a shiver.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright." Caleb bumps you in the shoulder with his fist. "But tomorrow, skip Walberg and come hang out at the portables with me. We'll start making it look like we're okay with each other now."<br/>
<br/>
He turns to trudge up the stairs, then stops to look back when you don't immediately follow. You stir, then with a glance at Gordon, who's been silently preoccupied with his own thoughts all this time, you follow him out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wait until you get home, and are idling in the driveway, before texting Gordon, to ask if you can meet to talk. He says yes, and you suggest meeting at the municipal soccer fields instead of Caleb's house. It's not that you distrust the fake Caleb that lives there with him, but you don't want it casually mentioning to his disguised original that you cut away from him in order to see Gordon instead.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon is already parked in dark corner by the soccer fields when you pull up, and sitting on the hood of his Bug. "So what's up?" he asks as you climb out of your truck.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing really. Just wanted to, uh, thank you again for ... for helping out with Kirkham yesterday." You dodge his eye. "I mean, I don't think any of us, um, expected it to, uh, turn out this way—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Fuck me, but Johansson seems to be having fun with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I didn't want to talk about <i>that,</i> either," you reply. "Though it seems like he's having fun, doesn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You thinking about how <i>you'd</i> like to be the one having fun?"<br/>
<br/>
It's a very direct question, and you don't like that he felt it worth asking. "Are you?" you parry.<br/>
<br/>
"No. You think I want to swap places with that psychotic little cunt?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, don't blame Caleb if he's—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not blaming anyone. Johansson can have fun doing whatever he wants. If that's the only way he can feel like he can get any respect—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think that's it." You shuffle your feet, for this conversation isn't going at all the way you wanted it to. (But then, you have no idea how you wanted it to go.) "I know that's not it. We were talking last night, before he put the mask on, and he was talking about—"<br/>
<br/>
You run your tongue over a very dry lower lip. Gordon patiently waits for you to resume.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I don't think you know what it's like being Caleb or me. Okay, I guess you do," you correct yourself when Gordon's eyebrows lift slightly. "You know what it's like being <i>me.</i> But you didn't spend any time <i>trying</i> to be me or <i>acting</i> like me. Anyway, the point is—" (But what is the point?) "The point is that I feel like I learned a lot by having to act like and pretend I was you. There's no way I could ... fucking talk to Steve or Jason now, if I didn't remember what it was like being <i>you</i> around them. Not that I'm trying to <i>be</i> like you, you know, like I'm trying to—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I get it," Gordon interrupts. "And you're wrong, I did get a different look at things while I was, uh, taking your place. Got a view on—" He sucks in his lip. "On how I could, like, adjust my, um, attitude toward things, a lot of things."<br/>
<br/>
"Well," you resume, "I think it's the same with Caleb. Him and me, we played at being each other, but that wasn't a stretch. He's learning stuff from, uh, being Kirkham. Same I learned from— And you say you learned from— And I think that's what's got him, uh, kind of stirred up."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon snorts softly. "You think I didn't see that's what's going on with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, the way you said—"<br/>
<br/>
"Forget it, Prescott. I think you worry too much about what I think."<br/>
<br/>
The accusation staggers you, and you cover your surprise badly with your stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, anyway," you resume, "you know we told Caleb we were gonna share that mask, so one of us wouldn't have to, um, be him permanently. Are we still gonna do that? I mean, you just said you don't want—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want it, but I'll do it if we have to." He cocks his head. "But doesn't this new spell kind of change things?"<br/>
<br/>
"How do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because— Okay, maybe it doesn't change things. Johansson could always just hang the mask on that rock thing we made, and go back to being himself. No reason the rest of us have to put it on. But I wasn't even thinking about that until we got a look at the new spell."<br/>
<br/>
"So what did you think about what Caleb said? About how— how someone, could use it to, um, switch places with someone else. Easy."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you asking about ... us? About you and me, doing temporary switches?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! I mean— We already did that. I meant ... other people. Like what Caleb was saying."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't need to be anyone else," Gordon says in a deep rumble. Then, as a kind of afterthought, he adds, "Though a vacation every now and then might be nice. But look, I'm taking the team to state, I like who I am and what I'm doing, so why would I want to <i>be</i> anyone else?" <br/>
<br/>
He holds your eye, and you can sense the unspoken challenge: <i>Would </i>you<i> like to be someone else? And what would that say about you, if you did?</i> <br/>
<br/>
But you know you can't honestly say what he has said, and on a matter so personal as this, you don't feel like you can lie. Instead, you answer him lamely with his own observation: "Vacations would be nice."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't answer.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that means," you conclude with a sigh, "that this new spell really isn't anything we'd want to use. Is it? I mean, Caleb, like you say, can stop with the Kirkham act anytime he wants, and you and me, we don't—"<br/>
<br/>
"So we'll just keep digging into the book." Gordon leans back and stares up into the black sky. "Is there anything else you want to talk about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess not. I guess I didn't even know what I wanted to talk to you about."<br/>
<br/>
"You wanted to know if <i>I</i> had anything I wanted to talk about."<br/>
<br/>
It occurs to you that Gordon is constantly startling you with these perceptive little comments. Gordon Black looks and acts like a muscle-bound lug, but then he will say something that makes you feel like an idiot for not having the thought first. Like, yes, that you only wanted to see if <i>he</i> had anything to say about this new spell. "I guess so," you agree.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll tell you what I've been thinking," he says. "I've been spending  most of my time thinking about how Chelsea is still trying to get back with me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's a surprise, and a real corkscrew turn in the conversation. You and he wind up sitting on the hood of his Bug as he tells you—very calmly and matter-of-factly—that she won't stop texting him, alternating between pleas that he give her another chance, and chatty little nothings like they never broke up. "She's really getting on my nerves," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess it would get on my nerves too," you agree. "She really should move on."<br/>
<br/>
"No, the problem is that I feel like I'm starting to weaken." He hunches. "If she keeps up this way, I'm going to break down and go back to her. And I don't want to." He heaves a huge sigh, and hangs his head. "Steve and Jason were right," he says. "She's bad for me. But I couldn't help myself. And I'm scared I won't be able to to <i>not</i> go back to her."<br/>
<br/>
"You just gotta be strong. And you are strong, you're the strongest—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, what I need, Will," he says, "is a new girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
Okay, that's an obvious alternative, and you kick yourself again for not being perceptive enough to get the idea first. But it would have been really presumptive for you to say it.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that would work," you say. "I mean, yeah, Chelsea might finally get the hint—"<br/>
<br/>
"Now, she'll never take the hint. She wouldn't even let that stop her. I need a girlfriend so I won't be tempted to go back to her."<br/>
<br/>
"So get yourself a new girlfriend. You could do it. I mean, come on, man! You're the captain of the basketball squad, you were dating the head cheerleader! You'd have your pick!"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want my 'pick', Prescott," Gordon growls. "I need a <i>girlfriend.</i> Someone I know will stick with me. Someone who'll be <i>good</i> for me."<br/>
<br/>
You're wondering if he's about to tell you that he wants to take Cassie off your hands—she'd be a good choice—but you almost fall off the hood of the car when he says, "Someone like Jenny Ashton."<br/>
<br/>
And when you say nothing, he adds, "And if you help me get her for a girlfriend, we can get you a mask of someone you can be, you know, temporarily. Or permanently, if you want." <br/>
<br/>
He holds your eye. <br/>
<br/>
"Someone who can be Chelsea's new boyfriend," he says. "So we can <i>make sure</i> she leaves me alone."<span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112223121211122222211122212111212232321121111212221111112111133111121
author_id: seuzz
id: R4LC458GR
title: Go with Gordon's suggestion -- all of it.
chapter_content:
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path: 11121113211222312121112222221112221211121223232112111121222111111211113311113
author_id: seuzz
id: G6RQTVDKS
title: The Temptation To Not Be Yourself
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"I got some homework I gotta finish too," you tell the guys. It's a lie, but you don't feel much like hanging out with Caleb, not in his new persona. You can tell he's trying not to act like David Kirkham, but just looking at him gives you a bit of a shiver.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright." Caleb bumps you in the shoulder with his fist. "But tomorrow, skip Walberg and come hang out at the portables with me. We'll start making it look like we're okay with each other now."<br/>
<br/>
He turns to trudge up the stairs, then stops to look back when you don't immediately follow. You stir, then with a glance at Gordon, who's been silently preoccupied with his own thoughts all this time, you follow him out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The new spell has given you a lot to think about, but you put it out of your mind and goof off with some video games at home. Your life has become complicated enough, it seems, just from what you've done with the previous spells: You switched places with, then ultimately befriended, Gordon Black. You're sort-of friends with his friends. And now that Caleb has, at least for the moment, switched identities with David Kirkham, you're supposed to be friends with him. Sort-of. <br/>
<br/>
So why do you need more complications? Wasn't your life just fine before?<br/>
<br/>
No, not really, you'd confess if pressed. Or, yes, it was fine. It was just boring. Boredom punctuated with occasional bouts of terror inspired by people like Gordon Black and David Kirkham.<br/>
<br/>
Still, there's got to be a balance to be found. And you wonder if playing around with the new spell isn't going to unbalance things further than they already are.<br/>
<br/>
But, you discover, the changes you and your friends have made continue to rumble along and evolve even without your further intervention.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You actually forgot about Caleb's invitation to come hang out with him first period at the portables. Which was probably for the best, because it's never a good idea to skip Mr. Walberg's class.<br/>
<br/>
But then, on your way to third period, you see Tanner Evans pushing through the hallway toward you, and looking you straight in the face. Tanner is one of Kirkham's boys, and he helps Gary Chen push weed.<br/>
<br/>
So your first thought when he swerves to plant himself in your path is that Caleb—adopting Kirkham's personality and pissed that you didn't come find him—has sent Tanner to fetch you, the way the real Kirkham sent Mendoza and Thomason to fetch you for a beating.<br/>
<br/>
But that was when it was the real Kirkham. So now, when Evans stops you, you look him direct in the face and will your heart to slow down to fast rattle.<br/>
<br/>
Tanner Evans is one ugly son of a bitch. He has a spotty complexion, a bowl haircut, and a unibrow. More unpleasant still is the sneer he perpetually wears. It's glinting in his eyes and on his lips now as he mutters at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey man," he says. "Weekend's coming up. You looking for some fun?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" You decide not to suggest that his sister—if he has one—would be your kind of playmate if you were looking for "fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, something to relax with, take the edge off after a hard week." He pinches two fingers together, and brushes his lips with them. "Can let you have a special rate, something between friends."<br/>
<br/>
You've had people like Tanner try to push weed on you before, but usually they've been either less direct or much more threatening. You decide, after weighing this change of approach, that he must figure you've got a new relationship with David Kirkham, and that he's taking this new relationship seriously. Or, at least, he's pretending to take it seriously.<br/>
<br/>
And you also remember what Caleb told you last night, that Tanner has some excess inventory he needs to unload.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, man," you tell him, "talk to me Friday. 'Cept I think Kirkham said something about sharing a freebie with him then."<br/>
<br/>
You try to push past, but Tanner stops you with a hand to your shoulder. He holds your eye with a glittering one of his own. But he can't daunt you, because you're not bluffing, and after a moment he too realizes that you're in earnest. He flushes as he looks away, then he pushes off into the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
You're chuckling to yourself as you're turning into B wing, when out of nowhere you're grabbed from behind, flipped around, and slammed backward into locker. Gary Chen, his dark eyes glittering like mica, and his lips curled back to show a white, sharp canine, glares into your face. "Wuzzat Tanner you were just talking to?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you reply, stammering a little despite yourself. "He, uh, offered to sell me something." You can't resist the mischievous thought that occurs to you. "And he offered me a discount."<br/>
<br/>
Chen whitens, and whirls to stare in the direction Tanner went off in. Then, without even glancing back at you, he grabs your face with one hand and bounces the back of your head off the locker before hustling off after Evans.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The second, and more significant evolution, comes seventh period, when you go into the gym to finally try out those weight machines that so many people have been advising you to hit. You're not the only one up on the mezzanine: there's a number of guys, most of them looking like juniors and sophomores (and maybe freshman), clustered in little gangs to joke and trash-talk while spotting each other. You get some looks from them, and you can even hear them chortling about you as you settle in to give a leg-press an experimental tryout. But mostly you are able to ignore them because they seem to forget about you.<br/>
<br/>
But they go back to noticing you when you get a visitor. It's Jason Lynch.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey man," he says, and his smile, though it seems genuine. "So yer actually tryin' these things out," he says as he squats beside you. (You're now facedown on a bench, doing some leg curls.<br/>
<br/>
"Finally," you agree. "It seems like I kept getting interrupted." Lynch's expression chills a little, maybe because he thinks that's a dig about him interrupting you and Kirkham yesterday. So you add, "Pull up a bench, man."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I save mine for after school. But I was headin' up to the loft to chill—givin' this period a skip—an' I saw you up here." His smile, which had warmed a little, falters again. "Your friend Kirkham plannin' to come up here after classes?"<br/>
<br/>
"I 'unno. I got detention anyway." You don't add that he and Kirkham also have detention after school.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I saw you up here an' thought I'd be neighborly, say hi. And also—"<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates. You've been doing leg curls all this time, but stop and raise up to give him your full attention.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, also to give you a head's up," he says. "You know Gordon and Chelsea busted up, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, maybe you didn't know that Chelsea's blaming <i>you</i> for it. Don't ask me how come," he adds as you blink at him, "'cos I'd like to think it was me and Stevie who finally got through to Gordon about her. But anyhow, I just heard from Kendra that Chelsea's got <i>plans</i> for you."<br/>
<br/>
He holds your eye meaningfully, and says, "Thought you should know."<br/>
<br/>
You rest on the bench for a long moment after he's gone, gathering your thoughts. Then you resume your workout.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chelsea blames you for Gordon breaking up with her? That's not a surprise, but only because she has a reputation for being a psychotic, both-oars-out-of-the-water bitch. Whatever reasons she got for thinking it's your fault are probably discernible only to her.<br/>
<br/>
But as for what she could do to you: Well, she tried sicking Gordon on you a couple of weeks ago when you lipped off to her. (And now that you think about it, that's when all this stuff started to get complicated, because that's how you wound up meeting Gordon and sharing the masks with him.) If she could get Gordon to do her dirty work, she could get almost anyone to, just by implying that she'd "like it" if someone did something about you.<br/>
<br/>
You just got through getting The Molester and David Kirkham off your ass. But Chelsea could send a whole goon platoon after you.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe if Gordon talked to her—<br/>
<br/>
But you don't want to run off to Gordon just because you're in trouble. Or to Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
So what can you do?<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you wind up thinking about the masks, and about the new spell. Caleb has a fake of himself running around school. If you hid under a mask, you could let a fake Will Prescott take the brunt of Chelsea's anger.<br/>
<br/>
But could you live with yourself afterward? Especially as you've been trying to show Gordon and his friends (and will be trying to show Kirkham's friends) that you don't bend under pressure?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Want to see this option continued? Vote in the poll: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2306985-BoM-Poll-Stolen-Lives" target="_top" title="Help continue the interactive">BoM Poll: Stolen Lives</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2306985-BoM-Poll-Stolen-Lives" target="_blank" title="Help continue the interactive"><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></i><span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122231212111222222111222121112122323211211112122212
author_id: seuzz
title: An Embarrassment of Cameron Hubers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There is no excitement in rounding off the end of the adventure, only impatience at getting it all done. After getting Gordon's mask back on, you drive back up to the school and return Sean's gym clothes -- plus the ones that you took from his closet -- to his locker. Then it's back to Caleb's to help his mom put supper on the table. There's less prep than you expected: "Caleb's eating with his friend Will," Mrs. Johansson tells you. "So it'll just be us. You want to eat in front of the TV?"<br/>
<br/>
So that's what you do. You don't pay much attention to the game show that she puts on, for you're wondering how things went on Gordon's end, and why he and Caleb are being so chummy.<br/>
<br/>
You get an answer to the second question a little later when your phone dings with a text.<br/>
<br/>
They're out by the river. The new spell has finally run its course.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So why didn't you wait for me?" You glare back at Caleb's car. It's barely visible in the dark, and you can't even make out the figure sitting in the back seat.<br/>
<br/>
"Just because you're the fucking captain of the basketball squad," Caleb retorts, "doesn't mean the world revolves around you."<br/>
<br/>
You push him off his feet, then help him back up again. "So what happened? How did we wind up with -- " You point at Caleb's car with your chin.<br/>
<br/>
You're at the river where you performed the spell, and it's a crowded scene, since you and Caleb and your double all drove out separately in your own vehicles. Will is looking about as freaked out as you feel, though he's less vocal. Caleb is acting like he's got the newest and bestest toy in the world. Which, in a sense, he has.<br/>
<br/>
"So I came out here when I got off work," Caleb says. "By the way, you totally need to quit that job and let me take it. I mean, it's kind of a shit job, but I know how I can -- I mean, so I came out here after work," he starts again after you frown at him, "and I saw the fire was out. So I tried relighting it and relightingit, and it never took. That meant it was done, right? That's what the spell said. So I ran back over to the basement to get the book, and, uh, Gordon was there -- " He looks between you and your doppelganger, and shrugs. "So we both came out here. We put the book on the thing, and the page turned, and we read what it said on the other side -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Which was what? Cut to the goddamn chase, Johansson."<br/>
<br/>
"We did some Googling around, and basically it's a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"A what?"<br/>
<br/>
"G-O-L-E-M."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a shit how it's spelled. What is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You sure got back in character fast, man. Ow!" Caleb jumps as Prescott punches him in the kidney. "A golem is like a magical statue," he says while rubbing the spot where your double hit him. "It's a thing of clay but it walks around and does work, like a robot. Only this one doesn't move unless you put a mask on it. If you put a mask on it, then it turns into a double of the person in the mask, only it has to obey you."<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't obey <i>me</i>," Will grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"No shit. It obeys <i>me,</i> probably on account of it was my hair we used," says Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Was that one of the ingredients?" you ask. "It actually said, 'the hair of Caleb Johansson'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be an asshole, Will. Oh wait, look who I'm -- Ow! I don't mean it, dude," he yells at Will. "I'm just, you know -- "<br/>
<br/>
"He says that the ingredients included 'hair'," says Will, "and since he was the one putting the shit together, he just used his own."<br/>
<br/>
"So after you figured that out, you put a mask on it, which happened to be -- "<br/>
<br/>
"We had it with us," says Will. "I just got back from Anne's."<br/>
<br/>
You walk back over to Caleb's car, and bend over to peer into it. A naked Cameron Huber glares sullenly back at you. "What the fuck do you want?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's Huber all right. You question him, but he doesn't want to answer until Caleb comes over and orders him to answer you. He tells you all the shit that Cameron knows -- including his memories of what Gordon did that afternoon while wearing the mask -- and he's got Huber's personality as well. "You don't want your duplitron to be some kind of dead-eyed robot, right?" Caleb says when you mention this. "If you're going to, uh, replace someone with -- "<br/>
<br/>
He suddenly breaks off, and blinks hard. You and he and Will exchange glances. No one says anything for a minute.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, we're not replacing anyone," you announce in a very firm voice. "This is just, uh -- " A hot flush washes over your face, even as a chill rattles down your back. This is now seriously spooky magic. It was one thing when you could use masks to be each other, or to prank other people. But the idea of essentially replacing people with obedient robots is too much. "In fact," you continue, "let's get the mask off that thing and get it back to the basement."<br/>
<br/>
That's what you do, more or less, though Caleb waits until after he's ordered the golem down into the basement before he pulls the mask off it. Then it reverts to its original condition.<br/>
<br/>
Which is a pile of rough stone the color of mud. You see now that those fissures you worried about were only part of the molding process. The crack up the middle split the thing to give it legs, and the cracks at the sides gave it arms. There is even a crude lump at the top where a head would be. You touch it and try to manipulate the limbs, but whatever movement the thing has comes from wearing a mask, not because the golem itself as articulable joints.<br/>
<br/>
You and your friends silently contemplate it for a bit. Then you ask Gordon how his afternoon of being Cameron Huber went.<br/>
<br/>
"Went off perfect," he says, and his tone suggests he feels like the afternoon's scam to be as anticlimactic as you feel it to be. "Anne was really surprised when I showed up and told her I wanted to make this gigantic public apology, but she went along with it. We printed up all those fliers -- " He pats his pockets, as though expecting to find one. "Then we went up to the school and taped them all over the hallways and lockers. She called some her friends out to help, so there's a lot of witnesses. Huber can't deny anything. Then at the end we started blasting out texts and putting stuff up on the social sites." He warms a little to the recollection, and a half smile tugs one side of his mouth. "Last thing was I recorded a video, all crying and shit, apologizing to Chelsea and to, uh, me for what he did." He pulls out his phone and starts tapping at it. "I can find it in a minute. We uploaded it right afterward, and blasted out a bunch more texts linking to it."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll look at it later," you tell him. You high-five each other, but it's a tepid congratulation. You're still distracted by the golem.<br/>
<br/>
So is Caleb, who has been frowning at it and tugging his lip. "You know," he says when he catches you and Will looking at him. "There is one way we could use this thing that wouldn't get anyone in trouble. If I put my mask on it, then there's be two of me."<br/>
<br/>
"God," you and Will gasp in unison. He gets to be the one that finishes the thought aloud, though. "You think that <i>wouldn't</i> be trouble?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb flips him off. "What I mean is, if there's two of me, we could split my life, with the golem taking the shitty part and with me taking the, uh -- "<br/>
<br/>
Your turn to insult him. "Yeah, what part of your life <i>isn't</i> shitty, Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, you know what I mean. Like, I could send it to school for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"And what would you do while it was in school?" Will asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. I guess I could hang out at the college library or down here."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Will exclaims with a laugh. "You could get twice as much studying done is what you're saying!" Caleb gives him a dirty look.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, speaking of replacements," Will says, and jerks his chin at you. "We said we were gonna switch back when that spell got finished. Looks like it's time."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. He's right. It's been a good run playing the life of Gordon Black and taking advantage of the good stuff. But now it's time to go back.<br/>
<br/>
But back to what? Even as Will takes his shirt off and kicks off his shoes, you fold your arms. "You know, it's been weeks since we've been ourselves. You've done a lot of stuff I don't know about. Same with you. You've got that job at Eagle Foods now, right? It's gonna be hard to fake our way through."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll manage it," says Will. He unbuckles his pants. "Come on, I wanna go see Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"You could put your own masks on," Caleb says. "Your mask has all the memories of working at Salopek. I know that, 'cos I had them all when I put them on. Wear your mask until you remember everything you need to remember."<br/>
<br/>
"That sounds kind of weird," says your soon-to-be-ex-double. "Wearing a disguise of yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"It's worth a try," says Caleb a little sulkily.<br/>
<br/>
You still haven't started disrobing, even though you need to. You're looking at the golem. And then you glance at Caleb. Earlier, you were talking about maybe the two of you switching. But the golem presents another way of dodging Salopek. You could send it in to do your work for you while you hang out somewhere else.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122232
author_id: rugal
title: The Lisa Gambit
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stand there trying to figure out what to do for a good minute or two. It'd be so easy to walk up to him and tell him what's going, that you think the plan is a bust and to just dip out for now and wait for another opportunity. But then your phone buzzes as you receive a text and your eyes go wide when you see it. It's from Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
<i>coming into the library now<br/>
i'll try and be quick</i><br/>
<br/>
But Caleb's right here in front of you, right?<br/>
<br/>
<i>wtf are you talking about<br/>
i'm looking right at you<br/>
<br/>
are you outside<br/>
because i'm in the parking lot right now</i><br/>
<br/>
Though you wouldn't put it outside the realm of possibility you don't think that Caleb is fucking with you. This was mostly his idea so why would he pretend he's not even in the library yet? That leaves only one possibility... oh shit! That means it's the real Gordon just a few yards away from you. You suddenly hear a grunt and see him begin to shift, turning in your direction. More quickly than you've ever done anything, you duck behind the row of books and out of sight, peeking out to see him go by and not ducking back out until he's disappeared from your range of view. Breathing a sigh of relief you had back over to the table where Mansfied and Lisa are sitting.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you finally get your pacifier and calm down," Mansfield laughs as you take your seat.<br/>
<br/>
"Geoff," Lisa exclaims as she smacks him on the arm.<br/>
<br/>
"C'mon babe, I'm just messing with him. Right Prescott," he states as he makes noises as if sucking on a pacifier. Maybe when Caleb, the real one, comes by you can convince him to make Mansfield suck on his fist.<br/>
<br/>
But you decide to just play along for the moment and laugh it off. "Yeah, it's just a little bit of friendly ribbing," you say while glancing around, "shame I'm no good at it myself."<br/>
<br/>
So the three of you get back to studying and you become more agitated as Mansfield does little things to grate on you. He moves a little closer to Lisa, leans in a little more to examine things, puts his arm around her to encourage her. All of this he does while throwing the same smug, douchey smirk at you every time. You're about to lose your mind and write the whole sorry plan as a failure when finally you see Caleb, and you're sure it's him because he's wearing clothes different from what you saw Gordon wearing, come stomping over. His face is crimson, his eyes practically emitting fire.<br/>
<br/>
"Jeez, wonder what he wan--" Mansfield starts before Caleb grabs him by the collar.<br/>
<br/>
"I got business with this prick. If you don't wanna be eatin' liquids for the rest of the year I suggest you get your little faggot ass out of here."<br/>
<br/>
Mansfield gets the hint and nods causing Caleb to set him down. "C'mon Lisa, we should probably get going," he states.<br/>
<br/>
But as he reaches for Lisa, a meaty gorilla hand grabs his wrist. Tightly. "Your girl ain't goin' anywhere. Your friend here had to run his mouth to my girl so she wants a little message sent," he then looks at Lisa out of the corner of his eye and smirks. "And she gets to be the one to deliver it to the rest of the school."<br/>
<br/>
"You can't let him do this, Geoff," Lisa exclaims. "You're not going to, right?"<br/>
<br/>
But by the time she's finished speaking Mansfield is already making a scramble to the doors. "Oh this is gonna be great," Caleb says as he advances on you and stares you down. He then casts a menacing grin towards Lisa. "Watch closely, 'cause I'm gonna show you something special," he says. "Then you can go run and tell all your friends about it, especially Eva. She'll get the message quick."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb raises his right hand up and for a moment you flinch... until you see something buried in that catcher's mitt and you realize that so far Caleb has been using his left hand. Then, with blink-and-you'll-miss-it speed, Caleb swings the mask over and jams it onto Lisa's face. No words are exchanged, appearances are kept up, as you wait for the mask to finish. You're not sure how long it is but the mask does finally emerge so you're quick to snatch it up and Caleb, to continue keeping up appearances, snatches <i>you</i> up and hauls you off to the bathroom where he knows nobody will dare to enter having just seen that.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck took you so long," you demand somewhat angrily.<br/>
<br/>
"I had to hide for a bit," he explains. "I saw Gordon coming out so I couldn't let him see me. I waited a few minutes until I was sure that he was gone."<br/>
<br/>
"I was there for like fifteen minutes," you complain.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I saw. It was fun watching you squirm," he smiles.<br/>
<br/>
You want to sock him but the two of you fight enough as is so he'd probably kill you, inadvertently or not, if you tried anything. Instead you just take a look at the mask and are able to see a vague image of what looks to be Lisa's face floating above the surface. So this is it. You could put this on and you'd have Lisa's body all to yourself to play with. Or Caleb could put it on and... you feel a stirring at that. Besides, would he even be willing to do something like that? Still, the anticipation is killing you.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, hand it over," you say and hold out your hand.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb eyes you oddly. "Hand what over," he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You know what."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know shit, dude."<br/>
<br/>
"The sealant," you say in an annoyed manner. "The shit we need so we can put the mask on."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not gonna but it on here," he states.<br/>
<br/>
"No shit! But I'm going to need it for when I'm at a place where I can," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Well... fuck, I don't have it," he says. "I forgot to stop by the school to get some."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't have..." you trail off and place a hand to your forehead. "Well, we got what we came for so we should just head back to the school and we can take care of that," you tell him. "Lisa will be gone anyway so she'll assume I probably got my ass kicked."<br/>
<br/>
You slump against the wall at that but Cale picks you back up. "Well maybe this'll help you," he says optimistically.<br/>
<br/>
"How could this possibly help me," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, think of it like this," he explains, "you mouthed off to Chelsea Cooper. You stood your ground and took a beating from Gordon Black. Meanwhile what'd Mansfield do? He pussed out and fled to the hills leaving his girlfriend at the mercy of Chelsea's angry boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
Your mouth hangs open in realization. "Shit, you're right," you say. "I got my ass kicked but I look like the braver party. Mansfield looks like a coward. Lisa will be disgusted by him and want to comfort me instead. Maybe this wasn't a failure of a plan after all."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
As you're walking out to your cars you suddenly notice Caleb freeze up. "Hey, what's going on," you ask him but get no response. Instead he dashes away to the side and quickly out of site behind the side of the building. You hear footsteps and turn to face them and stare wide-eyed in horror at what sent your friend scurrying: Gordon Black, the real Gordon Black, is making his way towards you and looks none too pleased.<br/>
<br/>
"Well look who I ran into," he says in a voice that's scarily calm.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, hey... Gordon," you say nervously as you feel like you're on the verge of pissing yourself. "What, uh, what brings you around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just looking for a book," he says and with that he's close enough to reach out a giant hand and grab you by the collar, dragging you towards him and off the ground a bit. "It's a book about how some skinny little twerp mouthed off to a girl way above him and got his shit kicked from here to Keyserling by the girl's very pissed off boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"That's... I've never heard of that one," you try and quip but that just pisses him off even more.<br/>
<br/>
"Smash cinder blocks with <i>my</i> head? Oh no, I'll be doing it with yours," he tells you before pulling you in closer. "You're gonna be lucky if you ever make it back to school," he growls, "You know that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
In desperation you begin flailing, trying to escape Gordon's grasp. He seems to find this funny though because he starts laughing at the sight of it. But that laughing stops when you kick out and, inadvertantly, manage to land a direct hit right in the balls with your foot. Gordon may be as large as a bear and strong as an ox but anything with testicles has the same basic weakness so he drops you to the ground and doubles over at the blow.<br/>
<br/>
You hear the mask clang to the ground and quickly scoop it up. You should make a break for it right now while he's recovering. You could probably make it... right? Well "probably" is the key word there. Your scrawny and not particularly strong so while you managed to hurt Gordon that's only going to be temporary and he'll recover from it quick enough. If you want to make it past him you'll have to hope your kick was stronger than you'd expect, otherwise he'll grab you and you may as well start telepathically sending funeral arrangements to your friends and family.<br/>
<br/>
You do have another means of escape, though: the mask. While you might not be fast enough to get around him, you would be fast enough to get the mask onto his face and knock him out. Then it's just a matter of waiting around for it to re-emerge, pick it up and you're home free because he'll be out for another few minutes while he recovers. The problem, though, comes from the fact the mask isn't sealed. If you put it on Gordon it'll absorb his image too and you're not sure what would happen if you sealed it up and put it on. Would you come out as some unholy hermaphroditic child of Lisa and Gordon?<br/>
<br/>
Besides, you'd gone through all the trouble of getting the mask of Lisa so you're not sure if you want to risk fucking it up when you maybe have a chance of getting past Gordon and too your truck before he recovers and Hulks out on you. So do you save the mask and make the gamble? Or do you play it safe and sacrifice Lisa's mask?</span></div></div>


path: 1112112
author_id: memesistential
title: Making a Break for It
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wait for a while before you head out of the basement, making sure the stuff you used to make the mask is safely hidden. This is a risk, to say the least. But you really need to talk to Caleb about everything that's just transpired.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">—</div><br/>
The old elementary school is roughly thirty minutes away from your house. Luckily, you see no one else in sight when you make it to your home. You try to navigate your way around the backyard in hopes of entering through the back door in the kitchen. You peek through a window to see your mother preparing some snacks. <i>Shit,</i> you think to yourself. You can't be spotted by your mom looking like this. She knows that "you" are in the living room with your cousin Umeko. And seeing you come through the back door would raise some suspicion. You have no choice but to go through the front door.<br/>
<br/>
You duck when you reach one of the windows looking out the living room just as someone starts to lift it open. You hear some muffled voices, and creep up just enough to make sense of the conversation. The voice you first hear is a familiar one: one of Robert's friends.<br/>
<br/>
"But we just saw you outside the community center."<br/>
<br/>
Your voice chimes in. "How would I be there when you're talking to me right now?"<br/>
<br/>
"We swear to God. It was you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Except it wasn't."<br/>
<br/>
The conversation between Caleb and your dipshit brother's friends continues like this for a while, so you just disregard it and continue on to the front door. You reach for the doorknob and find it unlocked. They're still talking in the living room, so go up the stairs and into your bedroom. You manage to hide inside your closet, panting from the unneeded exercise. <i>Please Caleb,</i> you think to yourself, <i>hurry the fuck up.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">—</div><br/>
It isn't a good twenty minutes until you hear footsteps coming into your room. You can't see out who it is. Then, the door clicks.<br/>
<br/>
"Goddamnit," you hear a voice say.<br/>
<br/>
It's Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
You peek through the slits in the closet door. He's pacing the room anxiously, muttering to himself. "What has Will been up to?"<br/>
<br/>
This is your chance to ambush him.<br/>
<br/>
"What I've been up to? What the hell have you been up to?"<br/>
<br/>
That startles Caleb, which makes him fall back onto your bed. You stand in front of him to see his eyes bulging.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus fucking Christ, Will. What the hell are you doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
"What does it look like I'm doing here?" you say in a low but angry voice. "I'm fucking hiding."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb tries to compose himself, but his voice still wavers. "I know. Two of your brother's dipshit friends started storming inside the house and looked at me funny." He exhales. "They say they saw 'me' outside the old elementary school but I wasn't outside except—"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine." You throw your hands up. "I got bored, okay? I went outside to get some ice from the vending machine so that I could make some more masks. I didn't know I could get caught."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb snorts. "Serves you right for going outside without checking your surroundings first."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't fucking start with me Caleb," you retort. "I went the long way around the basement to lose them on my trail. Those fuckers almost found me. Thank God they didn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you put the stuff away?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I hid it around. There's no way they'll find anything lying around in the open."<br/>
<br/>
"Good," Caleb whistles. "But still, it was dumb of you for going outside like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what can I do? You have my phone. How was I able to text you about it?"<br/>
<br/>
He nods. You do have a point. Both of you don't have anything else to say at that point. You are still stunned to have managed coming back to your house without anyone noticing. You just look at Caleb for a while. It is still weird to see him wearing your face and your clothes. There's a different way that Caleb handles your persona unlike your own. You see your own body have this sort of confidence that you don't usually have.<br/>
<br/>
It takes a while before Caleb starts the conversation back again.<br/>
<br/>
"So, what're we gonna do?"<br/>
<br/>
"First off, I'm gonna change into something more comfortable." You go back to the closet and change into a red shirt and some cargo shorts. You neatly fold the pajama bottoms that you discarded and set them on the bed. "I might still need this."<br/>
<br/>
"What else?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're gonna go back to the basement without getting caught. I'll go first. Wait a few minutes before you go next."<br/>
<br/>
"But what if your mom sees us?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"That's why you need to wait before you go outside."<br/>
<br/>
"Easy for you to say," he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
You flip him a finger. "I'm gonna make sure no one sees two Wills going outside. Give me my phone." Caleb hands it to you.<br/>
<br/>
As you are about to head out, you suddenly think of an idea. You go back to the closet and pick out a grey hoodie which you throw to Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Here, wear this."<br/>
<br/>
"I like where your head's at, Prescott," he says as he puts the hoodie on.<br/>
<br/>
Quietly, you exit your bedroom holding a bag filled with some extra clothes. You check to see if there's somebody in the foyer when you come down. No one is there. You hurriedly make your way outside.<br/>
<br/>
Once there, you text Caleb to come out. You see him come out the door and both of you make a run for the school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">—</div><br/>
But when you reach the school, you see that the door to the basement is open wide.<br/>
<br/>
You hope it isn't what you think it is…</span></div></div>


path: 11121121
author_id: masktrixie
title: A Night in the Basement
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You skid to a halt. "God dammit," you mutter. "Look, someone must have been in there."<br/>
<br/>
"You sure you locked the door?" Caleb asks looking at your intently. It's strange seeing your own face, even concealed by the hooded top, eyeballing you.<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty sure," you say, trying to remember. "I mean, I was in my PJs, dude. I didn't exactly want to hang around."<br/>
<br/>
"All right. You hang back up here. I'm gonna go check if the coast is clear."<br/>
<br/>
You fold your arms. "Why don't I do that?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shakes his – your – head. "Because what if it's one of your little bro's friends in there?"<br/>
<br/>
"So what it if is?"<br/>
<br/>
"So maybe it should be me to talk to them," he retorts. "Like I was doing just now? I was dealing with them great. Umeko – we're really hitting it off, by the way – asked who they were and I was like 'friends of my brother'. Pretty proud of that, I didn't say 'friends of Will's brother'. So don't sweat it, I'll handle 'em."<br/>
<br/>
He strides off toward the basement, and you fold yourself around the corner of the building, trying to hug the shadows and avoid being spotted. It's already cold out, and you stamp your feet with restless energy as you wait to see what happens.<br/>
<br/>
Five anxious minutes pass. Then figures begin to emerge. You press yourself into the shadows and watch as Robert's two friends slink off, walking to their bikes and exchanging a few words with 'you'.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what are you gonna do?" you hear them ask.<br/>
<br/>
"How the fuck should I know?" Caleb replies. "It's probably just some hobo, and I'm not going to bust someone for sleepin' rough." He chuckles as he closes the door. "Especially if they're my creepy doppelganger!" The last phrase is drenched in mockery, and you watch as he wiggles his fingers at the duo.<br/>
<br/>
"We're not making it up! That dude looks just like you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you should watch out for pod people," his friend adds.<br/>
<br/>
"Riiiiight. Well, when you work out if I need to call the Ghostbusters, or the Men in Black, or the Avengers, let me know and I'll hit 'em on speed dial. Until then stay out of basements."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb smirks and waves them off with a shake of his head. You watch as they turn on their bike lights, the glow from the beams gradually fading up the road. It's only when the coast is clear that Caleb signals for you to come out.<br/>
<br/>
"Kids," he sighs, gesturing you to follow him back inside the basement. "They thought they'd come down and see where their mystery man was," he says. "Managed to find the sleeping bag, a few of the supplies. I turned up, spun 'em some bullshit about checking out this mystery me, and said they probably saw a vagrant. Where's the book at?"<br/>
<br/>
You head to where you stashed it, and breathe easier when you see it's still there along with the ingredients. The laptop and DVDs are still there, too. "So, now what?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" Caleb says, taking a breath. "This is incredible! Dude, we have actual magic! We are going to totally use it, that's what! There's no way I'm finished being you."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't think they'll come back?" you ask. Caleb shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Pft, nah. Would you, if you were your brother's age? They'll head home, chalk all of this up to a trick of the light. I'll head home and deal with Robert. And the very lovely Umeko-san, too. You kept her up your sleeve, didn't you?" He gives you a conspiratorial smile.<br/>
<br/>
You shift uncomfortably. Yes, you have an acute crush on her that Caleb seems to have picked up on. But – "Dude, she's my cousin! I just like hanging out with her is all."<br/>
<br/>
"Methinks thou doth protest too much," Caleb grins. "I'll be back in the morning, after enjoying the comforts of your mom's cooking and your bed. Don't worry man, this is going to be awesome! I'll come back as soon as I can. After church I guess. Umeko was talking about some duet deal? Oh, yeah – and I'm going to talk to your dad too about that internship for me. This Will Prescott isn't going to keep flaking out."<br/>
<br/>
You ignore the pointed reminder that you've been letting him down, and begin the process of fishing out all the items from where you left them. Digging through the care package, you also find Caleb's mask. "Hey!" you say. "I already told you, you can finish polishing it up on your own."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb gives you a sly wink. "Just if you get bored," he says as he skips off back to live your life.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You do get bored. The community center's hotspot seems to be too weak to get a good signal. The ice for another mask has melted and you aren't going to risk being caught again. So, instead, you shove on one of the DVDs, watching a movie while you polish Caleb's mask. You try and doze, but the cold of the basement floor seeps into your bones, and without the comfort of a mattress you find your sleep fitful and restless. Every so often you jar yourself awake, limbs numb and stiff, trying to work out how much time has passed in the gloom – and sinking down when you realize it's barely an hour closer to dawn. When it finally does break, you feel tired and irritable.<br/>
<br/>
Morning involves breaking down camp, partly for warmth and to stretch out of some of the fatigue, before you check and see the WiFi hotspot is back on. It only holds your attention for so long, so you return to polishing up Caleb's mask while you re-watch one of the movies, getting rid of the last of the streaks of grey and making it all a shiny, shimmering blue. It's a make-work job, something to keep you occupied, and you swear that you're going to get him to make the next couple as payback.<br/>
<br/>
It's about ten-thirty and you're still belly-aching when you hear a noise upstairs. Caleb! You begin to dive through the tunnel you've created to your secret lair when you remember he said he probably wasn't going to see you until after church. That's not for another two hours. So who the hell is this?<br/>
<br/>
Your pulse quickens, and your mouth begins to feel dry. Slow, deliberate footsteps sound down the stairs, and a flashlight's beam cuts into the gloom. "Hello?" a stern voice echoes. "Anyone down there?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't see who it is in the gloom, but you already know what happened. Those little snitches! One of them must have told their parents this morning about some hobo living in the basement of the elementary school. Either a concerned parent – or, worse, the local police – has decided to check it out.<br/>
<br/>
They haven't found your hiding place, but they're going to make a far more determined search than those kids so they're definitely going to find you. That leaves you with only a couple of options. You've got just about enough time to grab everything valuable (your laptop, the book and the mask) and try and charge past them. With any luck you can get up the stairs and bolt across Acheson and back home – with everyone at church you won't risk discovery.<br/>
<br/>
You could surrender yourself too, and hope that you can deal with the fallout; it's not like you've done anything seriously wrong. But that only works so long as they don't call your folks. If they do, someone'll very quickly realize there are two Will Prescotts.<br/>
<br/>
Or, there's the most desperate gambit of all. Caleb's mask is ready… and you know from personal experience that it'll knock someone unconscious in an instant.</span></div></div>


path: 111211211
author_id: nostrum777
title: An Ill-Thought Break-Out
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You briefly heft the mask, pondering if you could catch the intruder unaware. Then you slip it into your book bag with your laptop and the book. There's no time to pack up anything else.<br/>
<br/>
Whoever is looking for you is moving deeper into the basement, pushing aside furniture as they go, and leaving you a clear path to the stairs. Their back is to you when you peep out of the "tunnel" you made. You hesitate for just a moment, then slip out, shuffling as quietly as you can. <br/>
<br/>
But then a step creaks under you foot as you mount the staircase. "Who's there?" someone calls, and you hurl yourself the rest of the way up and scramble out the door.<br/>
<br/>
As you dash for the nearest corner of the school, you glimpse two figures off by the street. One is a middle-aged black man, husky and clean-shaven, wearing a beret and a bright green polo shirt. The other is a tall, athletic man with short blonde hair and aviator glasses, in the brown-and-tan uniform of the sheriff's department.<br/>
<br/>
"Sam! Mills!" someone shouts behind you as you sprint around the corner. There's a car parked on the nearby street, and you dive behind it to hide. You peer out, gulping down raw oxygen, and watch as three figures run past the front of school and around the far corner. When they are out of sight, you double back the way you came, take the first street away from the school, and jog home. <br/>
<br/>
Halfway there, you remember that Caleb has your house keys.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
"You sure done fucked up, didn't you?" Caleb rebukes you sternly. It's a little after one, and he met you in Acheson's small business district after you texted him about your escape from "the base." You ignore him and continue wolfing down the cheap sandwich and bag of chips you bought at a convenience store. He's taken off the mask he was wearing, and as you sit together in the tiny civic square with its memorial statue and gazebo, he is studying the book that you used to make it, glancing between it and his phone. "Fucked us up good," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, what did you want me to do? Stay there and tell them I was a hobo?"<br/>
<br/>
"Could'a fooled 'em." He doesn't look up from the book. "You could use a haircut, y'know. And a shave!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" You're proud of your hair. Not too short to look like a dork, not too long to look like a grunge player, and at the right length to simply tuft through your ball cap. "I like it like this."<br/>
<br/>
"I agree with your dad. You won't get a job if you don't tidy up a bit."<br/>
<br/>
"What, are you my dad now too?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb picks up the mask you finished polishing. "I could be with this."<br/>
<br/>
You throw a death glare on him. "You wouldn't!"<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, of course not!" Caleb guffaws with a honking laugh, patting your shoulder vigorously. "No offense, but why would I wanna look like your dad?"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop joking about that!"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't get it," Caleb exclaims, looking at you deeply in the eye. "Your dad's not so bad, y'know. Bit stern, yeah, but not that bad. You can reason with him."<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you say that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well ..." Caleb turns down the phone, grinning. "Guess who's gonna be working at Salopek next Tuesday!?"<br/>
<br/>
Your expression falls. "Lemme guess. Me."<br/>
<br/>
"Almost. He really wanted you to take that job. I almost took it on your behalf." He rubs the other mask, the one with your face in it. "I could pass as you."<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh. Don't tell me you jerked off to being me."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>To</i> you? Eww, no, what the hell!" Caleb flinches, but he laughs. "I did jerk off <i>with</i> your junk, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, tee-em-eye!" Now it's your turn to flinch. "Don't wanna hear that! So what's up with the new page? You doing a translation of the spell?"<br/>
<br/>
"That and checking prices online. Unless you've got some cash hidden away someplace, we're not going to be able to do it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"It uses a completely different set of materials." He points out at some of the words. "Goldsmithing stuff, to inscribe in metal. And metal strips, too. Could be expensive. Plus, thanks to your fuck up, we have to buy more stuff to replace what you left back in the basement to be confiscated."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, I told you, it was run away or get caught!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know, I know, but it sets us back." Caleb rubs his forehead, sighing. "I'll try to find a cheaper source of supplies while we wait for my first check."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're paying for it? Awesome!"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a look. "It also means you'll have to wait to make a mask that you can wear. We got no sealant."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug, and he sighs and closes the book. But when he starts to put it into his own book bag, you grab his wrist. "Hey, what are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Putting things away. I gotta get home."<br/>
<br/>
"Not with my property!"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you need it for, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do <i>you</i> need it for?" you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, for a start, I need it so I can look for the ingredients we need to get so I can start finding a cheap source for them!"<br/>
<br/>
He returns your glare with one of his own, but you don't relent, and finally he gives up.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, fine! But let me hang on to it just until tomorrow, so I can make a shopping list."<br/>
<br/>
"And I'll hang on to the masks," you say, and slip them into your own bag.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever," Caleb snorts. "And while I'm getting us some new shit, how about you look for a new place for us to work."<br/>
<br/>
"Fair enough."<br/>
<br/>
"You bet your ass it is. And maybe this time," he acidly adds, "try to find one where your brother's dumb friends won't spot you when you go out for ice!"<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
Despite your promise to Caleb, though, you've still not given up on the old school basement. What if the cops decide it was just a hobo they scared off, and leave it as it was? There's a good chance, too, that they haven't found the stuff you were forced to leave behind. Then you'd be able to make more masks and sealant without having to wait for Caleb to buy more stuff.<br/>
<br/>
So after dropping Caleb off at his place, you casually swing by the community center on your way home. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Ugh.</i> There's a patrol car parked on the grass just outside the basement. Worse, the door is blocked off with yellow tape.<br/>
<br/>
You curse your luck. But you also want a closer look, so you turn into the side lot in front of the door. You intend to cover your move by backing out and returning the way you came—as though you're just turning around, not snooping—but you pause when you see who it is leaning against the patrol car.<br/>
<br/>
It's the deputy you saw before. But this time you get a better look, and see that it's not a man. It's a woman!<br/>
<br/>
Her hair is trimmed short, which is probably why you thought she was a man when you glimpsed her earlier. But with a better view like now— Wow! In that tight uniform, there's no missing her firm breasts, her killer calves, or her lean, hourglass figure. She looks up at you as you pull up nearby, but despite her squint she looks attractive as well.<br/>
<br/>
She glances up at you only briefly, though, then looks back down at her phone. You reverse, back out, and return the way you came.<br/>
<br/>
But then you double back and park on the other side of the community center, in the actual parking lot. You can't see the deputy or her patrol car from here—the building is between you and her—but you've decided to give her ten minutes, and then you'll get out and stroll around the old playground very nonchalantly to see if she's still there.<br/>
<br/>
Because it looks to you like there's a pretty good chance she is going to leave, and then maybe you can get back into the basement. <br/>
<br/>
But as you wait, another thought occurs to you.<br/>
<br/>
You've got that blank mask with you, the one that you finished polishing just this morning. If you snuck around got it onto that deputy, you could definitely knock her out long enough to get into the basement, <i>and</i> you'd have a copy of a sexy sheriff's deputy. But if you can't get it onto her without her seeing you, then she might remember your face and truck after she woke up again. Is that a risk worth running?</span></div></div>


path: 1112112111
author_id: rugal
title: Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Awkward Fire
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You open up the bag you've stashed the mask and book in to get ready but immediately stop as you realize that yes, that is indeed too great a risk. Not just if she spots you before you get the mask on her face but if you even can get the mask on her face in the first place. She's a cop, seems to be reasonably young and from what you'd guess is in pretty good shape. Likely if she saw you you'd be face down and cuffed before you knew what was going on and can you imagine how bad it'd be if it was thought you were trying to attack a cop?<br/>
<br/>
Besides, say you get the mask on her. She seems pretty attractive but what else is there? You don't know her name, you don't know what her schedule is, where she lives, you wouldn't have her uniform or car or anything. So you'd have a mask of a cop but with none of the benefits that'd come from actually being a cop.<br/>
<br/>
So you wait and look around just to see if there's anyone who could give you trouble. Some kids about your age are playing basketball on the outdoor blacktop off at the other end of the playing fields, and a handful of girls are sprawled on the grass watching them. But otherwise the grounds are empty.<br/>
<br/>
You pull out your phone and browse around, the reception being better up here than it was down in the basement, and watch some videos. You actually give yourself a little more than ten minutes as you finish up watching something, and when you get out to take another look around, you find the deputy's car is gone. The rest of the grounds have thinned out too— though those guys are still playing basketball, the girls appear to have wandered off.<br/>
<br/>
You trot around to the basement but slow up on approaching it, for the door, you find, is open, and the yellow police tape is down and fluttering across the sill. You sidle inside and look in from the top of the interior stairs.<br/>
<br/>
The first thing you notice is that the lights are on, adding their feeble glow to the daylight that pours in through the windows. The second thing you notice is the sound of an intruder searching the place: wood creaks and furniture scrapes as it slides across the concrete floor.<br/>
<br/>
As quietly as you can, you creep down the steps and peer around the corner of a book case. The intruder—the same one you dodged earlier?—has their back to you, and is looking through some cardboard boxes. Your heart pounds when you recognize those boxes as the ones you put your stuff in.<br/>
<br/>
So, on the one hand you're relieved to see that it wasn't confiscated by the cops. But just as alarming is the sight of this other person rummaging through it.<br/>
<br/>
You drop your bag to the ground as quietly as you can, reach inside, and pull out the mask. This isn't really how you'd wanted to use it. But it is an opportunity, and you're not running the same risk of being tasered and arrested. Besides, this person is going through your stuff, and you don't like it.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly you sneak up behind them, but they are so engrossed in looking through your stuff that they don't notice. As soon as you're directly behind them, you tighten your grip on the blank mask and quickly swing your arm, hooking it in front of the intruder and getting the mask on their face. They go limp, and you catch and lower them to the ground. A phone clatters to the concrete floor.<br/>
<br/>
When you turn her over, you find that the intruder is a girl.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Sarah, what the hell are you doing down here?" It's a shrill, girlish voice calling from the top of the basement stairs. "We were looking all over for you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," calls back the girl you caught with the mask. Her reply is a slurred. "I saw this yellow tape across the door and got kind of curious."<br/>
<br/>
You're listening from inside your "hideout," into which you retreated after getting the mask off the girl. Your original plan was to bug out back to your truck, but those girls you saw earlier were standing out by the street, and you didn't want them to spot you coming out of the basement. And it's a good thing you had that hiding spot to retreat into, because a minute later your victim's cell phone went off, and now this other girl has come in to look for her.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you alright?" the new girl asks. "You look ... "<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah I'm okay," answers her friend, though her voice lacks confidence. "I just feel a bit ... lightheaded is all."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's all dusty and stuffy and hot in here, so come on. Anyway, we're all leaving now. My mom'll be here in a couple of minutes to pick us up."<br/>
<br/>
"What, why are we going? Are Shawn and the others done?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, and it beats me how long they'll be. It's a dumb place to come practice anyway, clear on the other side of town. But my mom's got stuff to do up at the mall, and Leila and me are meeting Joanna and the others up there."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Tracy?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's got something to do at home. So are you coming?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry for making you worry about me."<br/>
<br/>
"Psh, well, you're like more curious than a dozen cats, so I'm not surprised."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Caleb was right</i>, you think as the girls tramp up the stairs and out the door. <i>We have to find a new place to work. It's like an airport concourse down here.</i><br/>
<br/>
But, as long as you are here ...<br/>
<br/>
You scramble out to retrieve the container of sealant that you and Caleb made yesterday. <i>Might as well make lemonade as long as I've got lemons</i>, you tell yourself as you coat the inside of the mask. You'll have no more use for a copy of that girl than you did for that sheriff's deputy, but you've got it now, and you're curious as to whether you can even wear the mask of a girl.<br/>
<br/>
And once you're done, you're all, like, <i>Why not try it the fuck out?</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are stiff when you wake, and you have to pry your eyes open. The last thing you remember was a feeling like warm, golden honey pouring over your limbs and into your joints as you settled the mask onto your face. But now you are chilly, and hug yourself to keep the cold off.<br/>
<br/>
And as you clasp yourself your arms brush across your chest. With an almost audible click, the memory of where you are and what you were doing slides into place.<br/>
<br/>
You sit up and with a slim hand grab a fistful of soft, light brown hair. You tug it and yelp in a soft, feminine voice when you do. The hair itself is long, going down and down and stopping at just about... you gulp and pull your shirt up. You have breasts. Not the biggest but not the smallest either. You reach one of your hands and touch and pinch and squeeze and marvel at the sensation.<br/>
<br/>
You let the shirt drop, unzip the front of your shorts and reach that same hand in and inside your boxers as well and marvel at the fact there's nothing. The dick you're used to grabbing is nowhere to be found. Instead there's just a bush and... well you actually decline on doing anything more, pull your hand out and zip your shorts back up.<br/>
<br/>
While the girl was out you'd snooped through her phone and had gotten a few things including her name, Sarah White, just before her friend showed up. That was Sarah's hair that you grabbed. Those were her breasts and her crotch that her hand touched. It's thrilling for it seems almost taboo: that unlike the clothes you're wearing, clothes that to your surprise fit just well enough, this body you're wearing doesn't belong to you. It belongs to Sarah.<br/>
<br/>
It's amazing and you can't help but to let out an excited laugh, the softness of which feels pleasant to your ears and which thrills you even more. In an excited stupor you walk up the stairs, not really sure what to do. Maybe to get some fresh air to make sure you're awake and not dreaming. You open the door and step out with a smile into the sunlight.<br/>
<br/>
"Sarah?"<br/>
<br/>
You're almost run over by the speaker. He's big and he's tall—almost two heads taller than you—and the sweat glistens on his taut, tanned torso. He pants to a stop in front of you, and two more guys, also shirtless, go jogging by. Behind him, a third shirtless guy comes jogging around the corner of the old school.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said you were leaving, like, an hour ago?" the guy says. He looks you up and down, and the eyes almost start from his head. "And what the hell are you wearing?"<br/>
<br/>
You freeze up. "Uh ... I ... I was going to leave but, uh, I spilled some soda on my clothes? And, I, uh, was just kind of embarrassed so I hid? In this basement? And there was... these clothes there so ... I changed? I just, um, I wasn't really thinking? I'm sorry?"<br/>
<br/>
A vein throbs in the guy's temple. "Dammit Sarah!" he exclaims. "You have to talk to people when you're having problems instead of just going with whatever stupid idea—"<br/>
<br/>
Another guy comes jogging up, but instead of passing he slows up and stops to catch his breath. "Hey, what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep running laps, Gregory," the other one snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"This is my last quarter. Joe's already breaking into the cooler."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care if—"<br/>
<br/>
"What lap are <i>you</i> on, old man?"<br/>
<br/>
The other one wheels to glare at Gregory, who grins. "Race you back to the cars, Sarah," Gregory says, and sprints off. Another teenage guy appears around the corner, and bolts off after him like a dog after a hare.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's your friends?" asks the guy they left behind.<br/>
<br/>
"They ... went?" you stammer. "I wanted to stay behind?"<br/>
<br/>
Your interlocutor gets a pinched look. "Were you planning to get a ride with Gregory? Because you know I have to go back up to the school after we leave here."<br/>
<br/>
You gulp. It sounds like you're trapped into getting a ride with someone, whether you want to or not. But a ride to where? And how will you be able to get away?</span></div></div>


path: 11121121112
author_id: seuzz
title: Not the Girl He Thinks You Are
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll go with Gregory," you stammer. "Um ..."<br/>
<br/>
The guy raises his eyebrows. He holds your eye, then turns away with a snort.<br/>
<br/>
"Then go tell him to take you home," he says. "We'll talk when I get back." He turns around and jogs off the same direction as the others were going.<br/>
<br/>
You look around. Is this your chance to bolt?<br/>
<br/>
But before you can, yet another bare-chested guy comes running up. "HeySarahwhatareyoustilldoinghere?" he gasps. "Comegetacolawichus." He glances back at you over his shoulder as he jogs off, so with vast reluctance you jog off after him. After three steps, you have to stop to pull off shoes and socks that are now several sizes too big for you, and carry them at your chest the rest of the way.<br/>
<br/>
There's half a dozen shirtless, sweaty guys at the blacktop when you arrive, flopping on the ground or pacing slowly about an ice chest that contains a bunch of cold sodas. Gregory beckons you over with a smile and hands you a half-drunk bottle. You choke it down while trying not to look anyone in the face. Fortunately, no one particularly wants to talk to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Nice neighborhood," one of them says as he looks about. He's a buff, blonde guy with a bright smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Better'n the shithole where <i>you</i> live," another laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if we had the fuckin' money, we could live here," the blonde guy retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"And if you had a dick, you could get laid!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I can get laid!"<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't mean you got a dick."<br/>
<br/>
The blonde guy's eyes flare, and he yanks at the front of his shorts. "Fuck you, Linwood!" he blusters. "You wanna talk about— I got dick here enough to—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, Joe," snaps a third. He's got dark hair and dark eyes, which dart restlessly and watchfully without ever settling on anything. "There's ladies present."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you hear that, Linwood?" the one called Joe jeers. "Ladies like—! Oh." He catches himself and pales when his eyes fall on you.<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay," Gregory says. He touches your shoulder. "We're just going. Are we?" he asks you.<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to find your voice. "I was going to ask you for a ride."<br/>
<br/>
"Then come on. Catch up with you guys tomorrow," Gregory tells the others, over which an awkward silence seems to have fallen. "Unless Joe wants to organize a dick-measuring contest later," he adds with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry about that," Gregory says in a low voice as he leads you over to where a bunch of cars are parked on the shoulder of the road. "The guys kind of get carried away sometimes." He opens the passenger-side door for you.<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay," you say as you get in. Your skin prickles all over as he closes the door on you, and you have to fight the urge to throw up. "Um," you stammer as he gets in behind the wheel. "You're taking me home? You know where that is?"<br/>
<br/>
Gregory gives you an incredulous stare. Then he laughs, though it comes out strangled. "Yeah," he says. "I think so!" He starts the car.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck, there's gotta be away out of this,</i> you tell yourself as he pulls into the street. But you're damned if you see how.<br/>
<br/>
"What was your brother yelling at you back there about?" Gregory asks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>My brother?</i> you want to ask. "Oh, I don't know," you say. "I guess because I stayed behind when all my friends left?"<br/>
<br/>
Gregory grins at you. "'Cos you were gonna ask me for a ride home? Do you <i>want</i> to go home, or do you want to ...?" He stretches out the word "to" provocatively. You can't help shuddering a little. <i>Is this guy supposed to be my boyfriend?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just drive around the neighborhood a little," you tell him. "Um. J— Joe's right. It's a nice neighborhood."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. I guess. You know, my folks looked at moving out to this side of town, back when I was in elementary school. Glad we didn't."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos then we probably wouldn't have met! I'd be going to the other high school."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Other high school?</i> You seize on the clue. So are these guys from Eastman? That's on the other side of the city! What the hell are they doing in <i>your</i> neighborhood?<br/>
<br/>
"But you told your brother you wanted to get a ride from me?" Gregory is saying. "Was that how come he was mad?"<br/>
<br/>
"I ... guess?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that sucks. Fuck." A sudden moodiness seems to settle over him. "I don't suppose he could have been mad at you on account of those clothes you're wearing," he sullenly adds.<br/>
<br/>
"My clothes? What's wrong with—?" You glance down. <i>Oh. Right. The clothes that are a sloppy fit for Will Prescott, but which are probably all wrong for Sarah White.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So what's the deal with them? I wasn't going to say anything, but Jesus, Sarah, when did you change into them?"<br/>
<br/>
And just like that, you suddenly see a way out of this trap you've fallen into.<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, what did you call me?" you squeak. "Sarah? My name's not Sarah!"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" Gregory turns toward you. "What the fuck are you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"My name's not Sarah!" you squeak again. "I don't know who you are!" you insist in a rush of words. "I was just going along with you all because you were acting like you knew me! My name's ... Bonny! Bonny Belinda Buttonwood!" You yank the door open as the astonished Gregory jerks the car to a stop. "Call her!" you holler as you jump out. "Call Sarah Whoeversheis! She'll tell you I'm not her!" <br/>
<br/>
You scamper off just as fast as you can, the hot asphalt biting your bare feet, until you see an opening between two houses, through which you sprint to the alleyway behind. You run along this until you get your bearings, then jog along until you come to an empty lot about two blocks from your house. There's a stand of trees and bushes in the midst of it, and it's amongst these that you squat to remove the mask of Sarah White. After you wake, you stumble the rest of the way home, where you change clothes and text Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Are you actually <i>trying</i> to be the world's biggest fuck up?" Caleb demands when you are at his house an hour later. "Are you actually <i>losing</i> IQ points by the minute?"<br/>
<br/>
"I knew I shouldn't've told you about it," you grumble. "I knew you'd make a big deal out of— Hey!" You duck as Caleb hurls a book at your head.<br/>
<br/>
"First," he fumes, "like a regular dumbass, you go back to the old school after I told you not to. Then—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not the boss of this operation!"<br/>
<br/>
"—like an even dumber dumbass— And if this 'operation'"—Caleb makes finger quotes around the word—"isn't going to get fucked up the rectum, then maybe it does need a boss, and a boss who isn't a dumbass, which apparently rules <i>you</i> out!"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright!" you holler. "So I fucked up! Except I didn't! I totally got away with it! I mean, lookit me!" You throw your arms in the air. "I <i>did</i> get away!"<br/>
<br/>
"Except now people are going to be on the lookout for doppelgangers."<br/>
<br/>
"No they're not!" you sneer.<br/>
<br/>
"You told that guy—"<br/>
<br/>
"I told that guy I was some other girl! It happens sometimes, you know!"<br/>
<br/>
"What, telling guys you're actually a girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I mean! You run into someone who looks like someone else you know. And anyway, those guys were from the other side of town, they got nothing to do with us."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb wheels around to his computer and starts typing words into the search engine. You let him tap away in a silent fury for a minute or so, then trudge over to look over his shoulder. He brings up a web page. "So was it any of these guys?" he asks, indicating a picture of a bunch of jocks in basketball shorts and jerseys, spread in a semicircle under a basket. The page identifies them as the Eastman Eagles.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, him." You point to one of the players. "That's the guy I got a ride home with. Oh, shit!" You recognize the coach, in his track pants and sweat shirt. "That's the other guy! The first one I ran into!"<br/>
<br/>
"Shawn Gregory," Caleb reads off. "And Coach Dale White."<br/>
<br/>
"The girl's name was Sarah White. Shit! That <i>was</i> her brother!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't give a fuck, and I don't want to have to. You're goddamned lucky that it was only the Eastman basketball squad you ran into out there. Though I wonder," he adds, and pulls his lip, "what they were doing in our neck of the woods."<br/>
<br/>
"Looking for doppelgangers, no doubt," you retort. "Shit, we're fucked now, dude."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb pops you in the side of the jaw. "Just be glad it was a bunch of brainless jocks," he says. "They'll have a few beers and kill the brain cells that remember what happened."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But even you have to admit that Caleb has a point, and you feel kind of guilty for the stupid things you did out at the old school. So, to make it up to him, you hit your dad up for a loan of fifty dollars, calling it an advance on Caleb's salary that you want to pass on to him. Your dad, though, only laughs at the proposal and turns you down.<br/>
<br/>
You bump into your brother, Robert, in the upstairs hallway as you head back to your room. Something about the way he's dressed—a long-sleeve shirt over a pullover; heavy twill cargo shorts; hiking boots; and a backward-turned ball cap—suggest he's loaded for bear. You ask where he's going.<br/>
<br/>
"Over to the community center," he tells you. "I'm meeting Shawn and Jeff. You know, where they thought they saw you," he smirks.<br/>
<br/>
"You should stay away from there," you warn him. "The cops were out there this morning."<br/>
<br/>
"That's how come we're going out. They busted a homeless guy or something. We're going to check it out."</span></div></div>


path: 111211211121
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Retrieval Mission
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're tempted to let Robert go over, then notify the cops that someone broke the police tape, let him get picked up, and suffer the heat from Dad. Bust those other little suckers' asses also for spoiling your secret "operation," as Caleb called it. Fortunately, it only takes a couple seconds for your brain to scream an alarm. All your stuff is still there.<br/>
<br/>
Well, not all. Caleb had kept the book so you can start over, but Robert's liable to recognize some things as yours. You need to recover them before he does, so you continue to dissuade him.<br/>
<br/>
"If they keep going over there," you tell him, "folks will think you all must be involved and you'll get arrested, too."<br/>
<br/>
"We're not stupid like the idiot they saw half naked running from the vending machine."<br/>
<br/>
"You guys should go see a movie or something."<br/>
<br/>
"You paying?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you guys have money?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe, but real life is better."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe I should tell Dad that you're going to break into a crime scene with some of your no-count friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"Asshole, and I'll tell him about the porn that ..."<br/>
<br/>
".. you keep under your mattress which is where he'll find it by the time he looks. You'll only see any electronics when you're sitting with Dad in his office. Be doing your homework there, too."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, go ahead. I'll go over to Shawn's first then to meet up, and I can have his parents call and vouch I'm there."<br/>
<br/>
"Better do that then," you taunt as you walk away. "And don't use my bike, or I <i>will</i> tell."<br/>
<br/>
"You never ride it any more anyway. Fuck you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry but you'll have to do that with one of your boyfriends."<br/>
<br/>
It'll be at least thirty minutes before he can get to the Stephano's and then for all of them to make it to the old elementary school. You grab you phone and keys from your room, and the new mask for good measure. Maybe you had better ditch all this stuff with Caleb or find a place for it. Caleb is right that you gotta be careful and not leave it around.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
There's no police or guards or anyone outside as you slowly drive past, but the basement door appears to be closed. You hope it isn't locked. Or maybe you do—that would keep Robert and his friends out. But it would also keep you from getting in, and it could mean the staff has cleared out your stuff. Best case is that your things are safe for now, and you can try to get them some other time. Either way, you won't know until you check. <br/>
<br/>
Caleb hasn't answered the text you sent before you left, but Robert is on his way, so you don't delay, and drive around to park in the main lot. There's a bunch of cars parked there, so your own truck doesn't stand out. As you jump out, a flash of blue from the passenger side catches your eye. The sun is bouncing off the mask that had slid out from under the seat where you stashed it. You start to push it back under, then change your mind and stick it under your shirt: If there's someone in the basement, like before, you can use it to knock them out.<br/>
<br/>
Music and voices float from the community center as you circle back around to the basement door. It's an exercise class, and you see lots of gray hair through the windows. Fortunately, they are all looking the other way. Time's just a little after the hour, so they probably just started. The street is empty except a few overflow cars, and so is the playground. You angle downslope into the building's afternoon shadow. There's no lock on the door, but someone has tried to tie up the yellow strands of tape to useless effect.<br/>
<br/>
The ceiling is booming with the bass of the exercise music, and sun streams in one window. It hits a chair in the middle of the floor, like an interrogatory spotlight, giving you the creeps. You wonder who put the chair there.<br/>
<br/>
As you go round some filing cabinets, you freeze at a sound from deeper inside the basement. You peek around: There is someone there gathering up your stuff! It looks like a man about your size with curly hair, but then you thought that girl you copied was a guy in the dark down here. Good thing you brought that mask again!<br/>
<br/>
Quietly you tip-toe forward even though the music can cover stomping up behind him. Carefully, you fumble the mask out as it starts to slide down into your pants, getting it palmed and ready. As you slowly move closer to knock him out, the music suddenly stops, the sunbeam fades, he looks at the ceiling, and your heart pauses for a moment.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
Having filled the bag with anything incriminating, you push it out a window in the back away from the door. Now you just have to retrieve the mask off his face and exit the same way. You'd propped a chair against the door in case Robert and friends had shown up and to discourage anyone else as well. So far there's been no one, but you don't want to chance going out that way. There's bushes at that window giving you cover, even maybe enough to leave the bag and pick up later, after dark. Whoever this is will take the fall for it all.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sucker shouldn't have messed with our operation. This will show Caleb I'm not a dumbass fuckup,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
"Shuuush. Quiet," you whisper, putting a hand over his mouth as he moans and starts muttering. Then he flails before his eyes pop open to see you.<br/>
<br/>
"WHFFT TAH FAHK!"<br/>
<br/>
At least he stops swinging his arms and kicking. He just glares at you, pushing your arm away.<br/>
<br/>
"How was I to know? You didn't answer my text, so I had to take action before someone recognized some of this stuff!"<br/>
<br/>
"I sent you a text that said stay away. I had it covered!" Caleb hisses as he gets up. "I was driving a few blocks away when I got your text, so I told the people up there I was here to pick up the stuff to donate like had been arranged. This lady didn't know anything and was busy trying to setup the senior aerobics class and get the ancient boom-box to work. I showed her how, and she was so grateful she just handed me the keys. I was going to show her what it was before I left."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah oh."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean, "Ah oh?""<br/>
<br/>
"I, um, packed it in the bag and pushed it out the window, except for the chemicals and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Great. Well, maybe I can take those and tell them I'll dump it somewhere safe."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, about that."<br/>
<br/>
"Now what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I, sorta, poured them out around. Distributed the evidence, so to speak."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb frowns before rolling his eyes and heading to the door. "You are a real, class one dumbass."<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
Safely at Caleb's, in the garage, you find out why he was driving around and why you never got the text. He was out picking up the supplies needed for the next spell, and he managed not to hit send. When he looked, it was still waiting on his phone. At least you came away unscathed. Well, except for the scratch down your back from the window since Caleb made you go out that way because you shouldn't be seen coming out with him, and then he put the center's lock on the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe I should have left you on the floor of the basement as that girl," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you should have used it to squeeze out the window without getting hurt, or are her boobs too big to get through?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're not. You can put it back on and find out." You hold the mask out to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't you? Show me how you played with yourself and then tried to get that guy to drive you somewhere private before you chickened out. Or <i>did</i> you?" He wiggles his eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you."<br/>
<br/>
"Now you're talking. Put it on, and you can find out whether it's really so much better on the other side."<br/>
<br/>
"Like you have experience to make <i>that</i> happen. More likely you'd demonstrate how guys always explode too early and she'd never reach climax."<br/>
<br/>
"How about you do it to yourself then? Or have you already had a few practice sessions and don't know how to do it either?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you. I walked outside and got caught."<br/>
<br/>
"So the first thing you did after getting into a girl's body is to walk outside? That sounds even more sick than checking it out."<br/>
<br/>
"I checked it out!" His eyebrows go up. "Not like that, but I verified I had boobs and there was nothing left down below."<br/>
<br/>
"How long did that take? Did it make you pass out again?" he chuckles.<br/>
<br/>
"What would you do? We have the mask. You wanna roll around with your fingers up her cunt?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Of course you do. Every guy does, except maybe those that don't. You just hadn't had time or opportunity, and you don't want to do it in front of Caleb, or, heaven forbid, with Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
You think back to how it felt in her body. It was weird and the same all mixed together. Until you moved and saw your hands, you didn't really notice a difference. First was the weight and movement on your chest and that your shoes were too big, and then no pressure from your underwear holding your stuff. One quick grope of your chest and touching your crotch opening before you walked outside was all. You still aren't sure what drove you to do that.<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, Will. Quit drooling and put it on, or do you want to work this next spell?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Oh, yeah. We can do that."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1112112111211
author_id: masktrixie
title: The Boy With Your Brain
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Let's work on the next spell," you sigh. "I got better things to do than watch you turn yourself into some girl."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb rolls his eyes. "What's the point of being able to do all this if we can't even use it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, we're going to use it," you say. You rub your hands together. "But first I want to know exactly what we can do with this stuff. Next spell makes a strip of metal, right? Any idea what it does?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nada," Caleb says, bringing out the supplies he bought. "But this is going to take forever. It's all fiddly little engraving work. You want to do it? Atone for your fuck-ups?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not particularly." You fold your arms defiantly. "And don't even try that shit on me. So far I'm the one that's done all the work and you've had all the fun. Remember I was the one stuck in the clubhouse while you were playing with my junk?" You frown at the mental image, and then have a mild panic attack that he somehow found your special sock. "What I want is for you to start pulling your weight. I ended up polishing both of the masks, the least you can do is carve up this dingus."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb relents. "Fine, consider one dingus carved. What are you going to do in the meantime?"<br/>
<br/>
You honestly hadn't thought about that. You're not in the mood to sit and watch him work, and while it'd be fun to walk around town as someone else, it's not like you have clothes that suit whoever this Sarah White is. The other mask, of course, is of you – and Will Prescott has his own problems. Like… <br/>
<br/>
Ah, nuts. In all the excitement of the last few days, you've forgotten to do most of your homework. Like, you've got to write a paper for Mr. Walberg explaining why you contributed an old hair dryer to the time capsule.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to head into town," you say. "I got homework to do, but home is the last place I want to work on it."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you can take mine, too," Caleb says. "While you weren't doing your homework yesterday, I wasn't doing it either." He grabs his back pack from under his desk and thrusts it at you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
It's getting on toward four o'clock when you arrive at the Koffee Kauldron, one of the goofy-ass coffee places near the university. It's not your favorite place to get coffee, but it's the cheapest, which means you've got much less of a chance of running into people you don't want to see, like Kelsey Blankenship or Geoff Mansfield. You curl up in a corner get to work, but you're not so conscientious that don't also shoot off a handful of texts to friends, asking if they know anyone at Eastman, particularly anyone on the basketball team, or anyone named "Sarah White." The only slightly helpful reply comes from Jenny Ashton: <i>Dnt knw her but can ask Lin n Yumi, they knw ppel at ehs. Why?</i> You just tell her it's a long story.<br/>
<br/>
It's nearly nine by the time you return to Caleb's. His mom lets you in and sends you back, and you rap at the door and announce yourself – always a sensible precaution – before pushing it open with a grin. "Hey man, what's—?"<br/>
<br/>
But you don't get to finish your sentence before you see Caleb's hand thrust up at your face.<br/>
<br/>
You blink awake. You're on the floor, dazed for a moment, and look up at your friend from your position. He's standing over you grinning inanely.<br/>
<br/>
"What the actual fuck, man?" you asks. Caleb just grins.<br/>
<br/>
"I knew you'd say that!" he blurts excitedly. "Okay, that wasn't an impressive trick. But I know you didn't finish my English paper – I'll let that slide for now – and I know all about your secret sock! I know everything, Will! I know your computer passwords, and I know— Holy shit! You really do have a crush on that cousin of yours, don't you!"<br/>
<br/>
You squirm backwards across the floor, and feel heat rising to your face. Caleb laughs, which only fuels your anger at whatever the hell he just did further. Without a word, you scramble up and prepare to kick him in the nuts. To your surprise, he sees the move coming and stumbles to the side, scrambling furiously around his room as you turn on him.<br/>
<br/>
"Pax! Pax!" he says, holding up his hands.<br/>
<br/>
"What the hell did you do to me!" you say, still trying – in vain – to hand a foot anywhere near his nutsack.<br/>
<br/>
"I copied your brain! Those bands, they copy brains, OK? While you were off out in town I finished it up, and the book unlocked the next page. There's just one sentence, it wasn't hard to—! Stop kicking me or I'll tell everyone about every ill-timed boner you've ever had!"<br/>
<br/>
You stop kicking him a moment and stare intensely. The words are finally starting to sink in.<br/>
<br/>
"The bands give you people's minds, Will. It lets you know everything about them."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, you still didn't have to fucking ambush me," you say sulkily.<br/>
<br/>
"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" Caleb snaps. "You got me down in the basement, I got you up here. Only mine was actually to further our project!"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know it was you down there!" you yell.<br/>
<br/>
"I know, Will! I remember it from your side of the incident!" You both pause for a moment, catching your breath. "Pax?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, OK," you mutter, sitting on the bed. "Can you stop reading my mind now?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not reading your mind," Caleb says, slowing it down patronizingly. "I copied your mind." He gestures to his forehead. "It's all in here with mine."<br/>
<br/>
"So you know everything I do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, kinda, but not? I have to actually try and think about it, y'know, fish for deets, like it's a USB stick of porn and I have to flick through for the images I want. But sure. I bet I know everything you did right up until you walked in the room." He cocks his head. "Like how you almost rear-ended that asshole in the pick-up truck as you were passing—"<br/>
<br/>
"Can you stop now?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Oh, yeah." Caleb reaches up to his forehead, and sinks into his chair. He says an incantation, and the band magically appears on his forehead. You wait for him to come around… and the moment he does so you jump him again. "Ah! Jesus, I said sorry, OK?"<br/>
<br/>
"Asshole," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, better than asshole than a fuck-up. Listen, the engraving took basically the whole time you were gone, I only just finished and was checking the Latin when I heard your truck, and I just thought 'why not?' Besides, I'm gonna need to know what you do if I'm gonna be you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
You reel back in surprise. "What do you mean? Dude, there's only a mask of me. We can't do the swap tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure we can," Caleb grins. "As long as you don't turn up too. We can do it like we did today and yesterday, only at school instead of you house and church. Oh, man, I can't wait to prank Keith. That numbnuts won't know something's up even with the band."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that how it works?" you ask. "You put the band on, then the mask?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shrugs. "Yeah, maybe? I don't know how it works! There must be some way to combine the two, though. I'd be a stupid ass book if there isn't."<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes, pinching your nose as you fall back to recline fully on his bed. "And what do you think I'm gonna do while you're being me?" you ask. "Because I sure as shit ain't hanging around in a basement all day."<br/>
<br/>
"After everything that's happened there, that's the last place you should hang out!" Caleb grins. "So just go into town, do whatever. Think of it as a Ferris Bueller remake. Fuck man, if you're worried about being caught in town, just put on that chick's mask and do your thing as her. Go do girl things. Like… uh. I dunno, buy lipstick and look at dresses." You eyeball him. "Or you could atone for your fuck-ups."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not polishing a damn mask for you," you say moodily. "If I make another one, it's for me."<br/>
<br/>
"That's fair," Caleb says. "But what I mean is, we can't use the clubhouse any more. Those cops might come back, or those Eastman kids, or your brother's dumb fuck friends. We need a better place, somewhere that nobody's going to interrupt us while we work. So, while I'm taking your remedial level classes, your job is to go scout us a new place to work on stuff."</span></div></div>


path: 11121121112113
author_id: nostrum777
title: Location, Location, Location
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As much as you'd hate to admit it, Caleb's right. It wasn't all your fault that you lost access to the old hideout, but you do need a new one. "I'll think about it," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Think about what?" Caleb asks. "Having fun, or fixing your fuck-up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes." Before he can make a retort, you ask, "So, how're we gonna work it tomorrow? You covering for me at school, I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking you could come pick me up. I'll put on your face, then drop you off somewhere and drive to school as you."<br/>
<br/>
"What if I want some movement?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll need the truck to pass myself off better as you. Besides, if you go as that girl, you can't have your truck. You don't know if she drives or not. God, are you even thinking straight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," you grunt. "Just as long as you leave me off someplace good. <i>And</i> I'll need your phone. Don't want to get lost and in trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"Well-thought for a fuck up. How about I drop you at ... I dunno ... How 'bout at South Creek? You could probably catch the bus there."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Great,</i> you think. <i>Now I gotta take the bus too?</i> But, it's the cheapest way to get around town, so you agree. Caleb shows his gratitude (such as it is) by agreeing to carve another of the mind-copying dinguses for you.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Monday morning.</i> The alarm wakes you up nearly thirty minutes earlier than usual. After showering, you pick out an unflattering wardrobe for yourself: a slightly oversized shirt, tight skinny pants that you never wear when you can help it, and a pair of old and worn sneakers. You also make a point of packing your cap in the small satchel you intend to carry around town with you. This is your revenge on Caleb for hogging all the fun. For yourself to wear around town you pack a far more comfortable and more inconspicuous set of clothes: a hoodie, comfy jeans and better-looking sneakers, and spare underwear, all to go with your cap.<br/>
<br/>
You eat a quick breakfast with your parents, and when your dad asks what made you wake up so early, you tell him that you have to pick up Caleb for school – the truth works here.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is waiting for you out front of his house when you pull up, and you slow down just enough that he can climb in. "Brought me a change of clothes?" he asks as slams the door shut. You're already accelerating into the street. <br/>
<br/>
"What I'm wearing."<br/>
<br/>
He glances you up and down, and makes a face. "I don't remember the last time you wore those jeans."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would you?" you ask. When he snickers you glance over. Your face falls when you see his smug, shit-eating grin. "Yeah, have your fun," you snarl. "This is what you get to wear. Mom and Dad already saw me in it, so you're stuck with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. I can just wear what I got on now, if I want to. It's not like I'm going to see your folks before we switch back. Or am I? Am I covering for you at supper?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Then when am I going to see them? God!" He settles back in his seat. "Try using your brain more, Will. It's embarrassing that you have to leave up to me to get some use out of it." He taps his forehead meaningfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I'm just pulling your leg, bro. You're not dumb, just lazy and complacent."<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you such an expert on me all of a—? Oh, fuck you!" you exclaim as Caleb bursts out laughing. To preempt his inevitable retort, you quickly change the subject. "Did you figure out the next spell?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean the one after the one I used to make this?" He taps his forehead again. "Yeah. <i>And</i> the one after that."<br/>
<br/>
"So fast?" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"The next one was easy to make, and we had the ingredients. It makes a kind of paste so you can stick the metal bands onto the masks. But for the one after that, we're gonna need someplace to work. It looks pretty big and involved."<br/>
<br/>
"What's it do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck if I know. Damn book never tells you what it does until <i>after</i> you do it! You know that. We'll need to hit the cemetery, too."<br/>
<br/>
You yelp and touch the brake in surprise. "Whaddya mean, the cemetery?"<br/>
<br/>
"The new spell calls for four hundred pounds of dirt. Taken from a grave. It's also gonna be a lot more expensive than any of the ones we've had to do so far."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb tells you a little more about it – it sounds dangerous in a chemical sense, not only a magical sense, for it calls for some explosive ingredients – but then you arrive at South Creek Park for the exchange. As he slumps, unconscious, in the passenger side of the truck after putting on the mask of you, you change into the comfortable clothes that you brought. He's still asleep – but breathing; you make sure to check – as a bus pulls up, and you jog over to catch it after dropping your truck keys in his lap.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
You spend the next three hours traveling the city by bus and foot, looking for places that might make good hideouts. You have a thin time of it until you notice the old State Theater on Adams Boulevard, and hop off the bus at the next stop to double back for a closer look. It's a withered, decrepit building of tan brick with a blank marquee over the front. It's entirely boarded up, and even the sign is gone – you know it was a movie theater only by the general shape and because your parents have told you about going to see midnight horror movies there back when they were dating. The side walls have been tagged with graffiti, and dirty and grime encrust the front. It's small, too – it can't have had more than one screen inside – but it would be bigger than your old hideout.<br/>
<br/>
You mark the doors as you circle it, looking for a way in. The emergency exits have no handles, but there is one proper door. <i>I should have brought a crowbar,</i> you think as you grimace to yourself, and try the handle without much hope. To your amazement, though, the door pops right open. <i>This ain't good,</i> you tell yourself even as you step over the threshold into the darkness beyond. <i>If I can get in, other people can get in. They might be in here already.</i><br/>
<br/>
The door opens into a small space that must have once been an office: there are still some metal-frame cabinets in one corner. After propping the exterior door open you look behind the one interior door. A stench of old, dry mildew rolls out, and you gag and retch. It's almost pitch dark on the other side, and there's just enough light for you to make out a tattered red carpet on the floor. A rustle nearby warns you that there are probably rats in the place.<br/>
<br/>
But you grin to yourself as you exit. You're not too handy with tools, but between you, you and Caleb should be able to install a strong metal latch on the outer door that you can use to padlock it. And that would give you the base you want and need.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
"The old State Theater?" your double asks in disbelief. You nod. "On the bad side of town?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, where do you want to find an abandoned place to hang out?" you counter. "That ritzy shopping center behind the mall?"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you look there?"<br/>
<br/>
You make a face.<br/>
<br/>
It's nearing supper time, but the other Will Prescott has only just now picked you up again at South Creek. You're parked there still, waiting to make the change back.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Will," he sighs. "How is it that you had the whole day to scour the city for a hideout, and you only found one, while I went to school and managed to find two possible places?"<br/>
<br/>
Your face falls. "Where?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"Top Shelf Storage, for a start."<br/>
<br/>
"Where?" you repeat.<br/>
<br/>
"It's storage complex over on Twentieth. Carlos Mendoza's family owns it. You know Mendoza. We have him in English."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's the hideout there?"<br/>
<br/>
"A storage unit. We rent a storage unit," he repeats when you gape at him. "There's security and everything there."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like we're swimming in money," you point out. "Where's the second place? An office up in the Mobley Building?" That's the city's only skyscraper, a ten-story place on the west side of town.<br/>
<br/>
"Next to Argosy Furniture. Oh, I think I also got you a lead on a job, working for Stephanie Wyatt's dad."<br/>
<br/>
"The <i>fuck?</i>" Stephanie Wyatt, as far as you're concerned, is the female equivalent of Gordon Black – a scary-as-fuck, basketball-playing jock who'd as soon punch you out as look at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I know how you feel," your double says. "Dur. But that's why I'm late, I helped her move some stuff at their furniture store – and got paid for it, too – and there's an abandoned storefront next to their place that we could probably use."<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb go round and round discussing the pros and cons of each choice. Yet your mind keeps reverting back to the community center that you've had to abandon. If there were some way of getting back into it without arousing suspicion or attention, that would be perfect. But how to do that? Gamble that the excitement has died down? <br/>
<br/>
Or how about by impersonating the center's director, at least long enough to get the staff to stop paying attention to the old basement?</span></div></div>


path: 111211211121133
author_id: rugal
title: Intruders at the Old State Theater
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Hey so you know, I mean all of that is good and all but," you start. Caleb looks at you, waiting for you to say something. "I'm still thinking the theater's the best place to set up."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is aghast. "Why!?" he asks in astonishment. "You said it was dumpy and filled with mildew and rats."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what makes it perfect!" you exclaim. "It's an old piece of shit in a bad part of town so who's going to want to hang around there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right, and you know what else is perfect?" Caleb asks and then answers before you can even say anything. "A modern fucking building. Air conditioning, no rats, no mildew!"<br/>
<br/>
"But that's the problem," you retort. "Those places are desirable right? They're going to get a lot of traffic too and if they're connected to people we know from school then there's a good chance we could get discovered and then what?"<br/>
<br/>
"We deal with it when the time comes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, okay, I almost got busted twice," you state, "and while getting caught may be whatever for you it's not for me. So I'd rather do what will probably minimize the risk of ever getting found out and especially of getting found out by people we know. Look we just go out there, put a latch and padlock on the door and we're good."<br/>
<br/>
"A metal latch and... shit! So now we have to play handymen too if we want to use it!?" Caleb explodes. But you can see his resolve start to falter less because he agrees with you and more because he knows your mind is made up. Caleb is stubborn but he knows that you can be just as, or some times even more, stubborn yourself. "Fine, we'll get out there, get it done with and get the stuff in. Shouldn't take more than, what, an hour? Two?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hopefully," you say as you pull out your phone. "Hey Mom. Yeah. Yeah, I was just calling to tell you that I'm going to have to skip dinner tonight. Yeah, I'm going to be eating with Caleb tonight. Oh, well, he's kinda nervous considering he starts at Dad's place tomorrow so, you know, I figured I'd hang out with him for a while and help calm his nerves."<br/>
<br/>
You look at Caleb with a big grin while he flips you off.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh, right. Yeah, I'm gonna be a little late in getting home but I'll be back before curfew. Oh, really? Okay, sure, I'll tell him. Love you too, Mom." You end the call and continue grinning at Caleb. "Dad apparently can't wait to see you tomorrow," you tell him with a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"You're a real dickhead, Will. You know that?" he says with a scowl.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Back at Caleb's he changes out of the mask of yourself before the two of you exit your truck. In the garage you gather up the material that you salvaged from the basement, which admittedly isn't much, as well as the book. Next are the masks of yourself, the girl you copied in the basement as well as... "What's this?" you ask as you hold up a metal band. "Is that doohickey you made with my brain on it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a spare I made last night with some of the left over material from the first one."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh," you say as you absentmindedly shove it into your pocket. "So that about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"One more thing I want to grab," he answers. He digs around through the garage and finally pulls out what looks like an old car buffer.<br/>
<br/>
"The hell do you want that for?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Just something I thought of while working on the extra band and the spells," he replies. "I mean if we're going to make masks once I've got some money we can't be taking a few days to polish each one right? Plus that shit's tiring on your arm."<br/>
<br/>
"So you want to try... a car buffer? And you think it'll work?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dunno," he shrugs, "couldn't hurt to try though. It's not like old wizards had access to twenty first century technology."<br/>
<br/>
It's sound enough reasoning so you have him toss it into your truck with the rest of the stuff and the tools you'll need to padlock the door of the theater.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey so what are we going to do once we're able to make more masks?" you ask as you drive over towards the theater.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean? Put 'em on, what the hell else would we do?"<br/>
<br/>
"No but I mean," you start. "Okay so look, we put on masks of each other and we can go to school, fool our families, whatever right? But say one of us puts on that mask of Sarah. What do we do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd finger myself and play with my tits," answers Caleb as if you've asked history's dumbest question.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright and then what?" you continue. "We can't switch places with her because we don't have one of those mind thingamajigs. Even if we had one we don't know her so we still couldn't switch."<br/>
<br/>
"If we had a complete disguise of her we could still pretend I guess. Like roleplay as her in public," he says. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt at that as it's an answer that leaves you unsatisfied. Sure these things are neat but there has to be a way to do something more with all of this you think. Because eventually when Caleb gets bored of playing with Sarah's body he'll probably ask you to put the mask on so he can play with it from the outside and that is a thought that makes you want to puke.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Goddamn!" Caleb exclaims as he drops the cordless power drill. "This was a bigger pain in the ass than I thought it would be. You got the lock?"<br/>
<br/>
"In the truck," you tell him as you lower your phone. Dusk is deepening, and you're using the flashlight on it to work by. "But yeah I want to take a break first."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb doesn't say anything and instead walks through the open door into the theater to check it out. Now both of you turn on the flashlights on your phones as you look around at the remains of the likely office. It was spooky enough in the daytime but at night it's even worse.<br/>
<br/>
Back outside, you've just packed up all your tools and are about to return out front to get the padlock from your truck when you hear a voice. Someone's talking, and it sounds like they're coming down the alley toward you. You and Caleb look at each other, then duck back inside the theater and stand just inside the door, in the dark, trying not to breathe.<br/>
<br/>
The voice comes closer, until it is just on the other side of the door. Though muffled, you can just make out words:<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just come out here alright? Nadine 'n them already bailed 'cause she's got a date or some shit and the others said they weren't coming out here if she wasn't. What was I--? Goddamn it, what I was working on last night that I didn't get to finish! The fuck do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a long pause and you wonder if the person's left but it starts up again.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay, whatever. Thanks for leaving me high and dry. Huh? No I can't just finish it now! I need an audience, you know that! The performative part of it's half the fun! Fine, whatever, I'll see ya tomorrow." You hear a beep but it doesn't seem like the person's gone away because you start to hear them muttering. "The fuck's goin' on here? Someone break into this old place?"<br/>
<br/>
The door opens, and footsteps shuffle inside. Your hand brushes your pocket, and you remember the spare mind band that Caleb made. You pull it out, and when a voice right in front of you says, "Hey, who the fuck--?" you smash it into where you think the person's forehead must be.<br/>
<br/>
Something heavy and lumpy falls against you. You catch it in your chest and carry it to the floor with you.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb turns his cell phone light on. He freezes it, in a dim spotlight, on you and--<br/>
<br/>
You groan and Caleb nearly doubles over with laughter. It's another girl.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As soon as the band reappeared you'd grabbed and pocketed it. You and Caleb then hauled the girl outside and propped her against the wall, then closed and padlocked the door. Caleb drove while you studied the band. There's a name on it now, that seems to float in blue letters over the surface of the band: <i>ALEX ELISABETH JOSEPHINE DAY</i>.<br/>
<br/>
You put it on.<br/>
<br/>
It takes a while but with Caleb's coaching you're able to sift through things (and he's taking all of this in stride) and find out some interesting things. The girl is a senior at Eastman. She's a local graffiti artist and all around troublemaker and is really well known among the underground crowd both at Eastman and Westside where it seems people from both schools will come out to watch her "performances". She'd been engaged in one such performance last night that was cut short -- probably explains the graffiti you saw on the building -- and is hoping to get it finished this week.<br/>
<br/>
You ask Caleb what you should do with this information and he's surprisingly cavalier with suggestions. One is to just take Alex's band and combine it with Sarah's mask that way you'd have a complete disguise of a girl. Even if they're obviously not the same person you could still roleplay a little. But if you want to wait until he's paid maybe you can grab a mask of Alex and, since she goes to Eastman, maybe use the disguise to try and get one for Sarah too.<br/>
<br/>
But is that all there is to really do? What's the fun in roleplaying with just the two of you? Hell, if you wanted to roleplay you know some guys who would be experts at it.<br/>
<br/>
But there's something that intrigues you even more. A stray thought that seems crazy but might pay out huge. Alex will probably try again tomorrow and the rest of the week. What if the two of you met her up there and showed her the book? Someone like her would undoubtedly have a lot of wild ideas about what to do with it and, well, you saw her. She's a cute girl. Her brain tells you that she knows more cute girls. What better way to impress some cute girls than with a little magic?</span></div></div>


path: 1112112111211335
author_id: seuzz
title: Payday!
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"No way we can show her this stuff," you mutter to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Whazzat?" Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Did I say that out loud? Never mind." You sink deeper into the passenger-side seat.<br/>
<br/>
It's just as well Caleb didn't hear. It was a really stupid thought. Show the book and the masks to Alex Day? Good luck convincing her to take it seriously! And if you did? Fuck, she'd just steal it from you. Even now, with her brain buzzing inside yours, you itch with the temptation to screw Caleb by seizing the book and running away with it.<br/>
<br/>
And yet ... there would be advantages to having Alex Day as a partner. Neither you nor Caleb have a lot of money, and Alex is rolling in more of it than—<br/>
<br/>
You lunge forward in your seat and punch the truck console."The fuck, Will?" Caleb gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck you say!" you exclaim. "Oh, Jesus. I am so fucking stupid! My phone! <i>Where the fuck's my phone?</i>" You scramble about for it.<br/>
<br/>
"Calm the fuck down, man!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll calm the fuck down when I'm dead!" you yell as you pull your phone out. "Oh, Jesus Christ, this so perfect! So abso-fucking-lutely perfect!" Feverishly you scroll and tap at your phone.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up and keep driving. No, pull over. No! Find us, like— Is there a drive-through around here?" You swivel in your seat. "Find us a place we can camp out for a bit. I don't want to fuck this up. Where's the book? You got a list of the stuff we need for—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will, I'm gonna slap you in a minute if you don't start calming down!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just find us a place where I can type without messing up," you tell him. <br/>
<br/>
Then, leaning forward, you clamp your tongue between your teeth and very carefully enter Alex Day's email and password into Amazon's home page.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It takes you an hour to fill the virtual shopping cart with everything you need—and a few things that you just want—because Caleb has to take you back to his place in order to consult his notes for the next spell. You even find graveyard dirt for sale through the online seller, though at five bucks an ounce, even your conscience rebels at ordering four hundred pounds of the stuff. Instead, you just throw a box of sandbags into the cart along with several hundred dollars worth of chemicals, powders, metallic dusts, and other ingredients for making masks, brain-copying metal bands, and whatever the thing is you need the cemetery dirt for.<br/>
<br/>
Not until the cart is full does Caleb point out that can't very well buy hundreds of dollars worth of shit on Alex Day's credit card—whose information is so conveniently stored in her Amazon account—and have it delivered to your own doors. But you've already thought past that point, and from Caleb's phone you shoot a text to a girl named Roxanne Hurley: <i>Hi roxanne its me alex I'm havng to use ths guys phne to txt bec my parnts r bing stupid. Txt me back here k?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Who's Roxanne Hurley?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Old friend of Alex's," you tell him. Your brain feels like it's burning up with a fever as you think through what has to come next. "They went to Xavier's together for a couple of years, before Alex got kicked out and had to move over to Eastman. Roxanne still goes there, but her and Alex are both locals." <br/>
<br/>
You're interrupted by a reply from Roxanne, and you spend the next few minutes texting her and using your knowledge of Alex to establish your identity with her, while keeping Caleb informed with a running commentary. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna have the stuff shipped out to Roxanne," you tell him, "if she'll take it. I'll tell her it's stuff that my—Alex's—folks can't know she's getting. Roxanne's used to covering for Alex, though I guess they—" You break off to tap in a long string of <i>lols</i> at a story Roxanne tells about Mary Occam back at St. Xavier's. "Though I guess she has to do less covering since Alex changed schools."<br/>
<br/>
"That's great," Caleb says without enthusiasm. "But how are <i>we</i> gonna get the stuff from this Roxanne girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a dumbass. We'll set it up so that we go pick it up from her on Alex's behalf."<br/>
<br/>
"And what if Roxanne tells Alex about all this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chill, dude. I'm covering it now." You tap furiously for a spell, then show Caleb the resulting text. "See? Alex and Roxanne don't text that much anymore anyway. Now Roxanne will just text <i>you</i> when she wants to pass a message on to Alex about this shit. Because I've told her that Alex's parents—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I can read faster than you can talk, Will. It's still a risk."<br/>
<br/>
"Trust the Guru," you tell him, and don't explain the reference.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But Caleb eventually capitulates, and everything else clicks into place. Roxanne accepts the pretense that you are her friend Alex, and she agrees to accept receipt of a large number of Amazon shipments on your behalf. Amazon itself accepts the order. You spend a solid minute whooping about the room and high-fiving Caleb. He's more muted than you, which you put down to jealousy at your having the brilliant idea instead of him.<br/>
<br/>
You resume your regular life the next day, though life at Westside feels cramped and dull after the excitement past and the excitement to come. You're not even that moved when Jenny, at lunch, tells you that Yumi Saito and Lin Pol—two cheerleaders who are friends of hers—can tell you all that you need to know about Eastman and the kids out there. Yumi has a cousin who goes to Eastman, she says, and as for Lin—<br/>
<br/>
"Lin's personal goal is to blow the entire the whole Eastman basketball squad by Thanksgiving," Carson Ioeger interrupts to tell. "Then she's going to suck off the football and soccer squads."<br/>
<br/>
Jenny punches him. But she doesn't exactly deny the spin he put on it, either, when she admits that Lin is "real friendly" with most of the Eastman basketball players and has dated a couple of them very casually.<br/>
<br/>
That's the highlight of the week at school. Outside of school, Caleb starts work at Salopek and isn't available to hang out until after supper most days. You and he visit the State Theater a few more times, to put a padlock on the door and to explore the interior with more powerful flashlights. It stinks worse the deeper you push into it, and the building proves mostly to be a shell. The auditorium has been stripped of all its seats, and the glass cases in the concession area are smashed and broken. Only the restrooms still contain original furnishings—toilets and urinals—and the stench is so ripe that you have to wonder if the homeless community hasn't been using them. In fact, it's so ripe that Caleb wonders aloud if there isn't a dead body wedged inside one of the stalls. But there's plenty of room to work, and when the LED lanterns that you ordered arrive, you'll be able to conduct your researches deep in the bowels of the building.<br/>
<br/>
In the meantime, you and Caleb also carry out some careful experiments with the few items that you've made. You discover, by playing with the brain-band that Caleb made of you, that you can "update" it with more recent memories by putting it back on, and that in doing so you will come to "remember" the things that Caleb did when he was pretending to be you. This is very convenient, as it means that you now know everything that he did at school as you, and if he ever plays you at school again he will know everything that you did in the intervening period.<br/>
<br/>
You also make a "complete disguise" of yourself by gluing that metal strip into your mask, and pack it away with a spare set of clothes. You're slightly reluctant to do this, and even more reluctant to leave it with Caleb, but he promises not to use it except in some kind of emergency, and insists on having the stuff all together in case there's a sudden need for him to impersonate you. He has no idea why he would ever need to do that, but he seems pretty set on it, so you let him make up that "Instant Will Prescott" kit.<br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile, the stuff you ordered from Amazon starts to trickle in. It's torture to get the daily delivery reports from Roxanne Hurley, who through Caleb keeps you—"Alex"—informed of them. You're all for meeting her and collecting the stuff as it arrives—especially when the last of the mask-making materials comes in—but Caleb firmly insists that you wait until you can scoop it all up in one trip, in order to minimize the chances of fucking up the arrangement with Roxanne. You can hardly stand it, but agree to Caleb's demand.<br/>
<br/>
But at last, late on Saturday night, nearly a week after you placed the order, Roxanne texts to alert you of a delivery that completes your Amazon order. You don Alex's brain-band long enough to reply, telling her that you'll be sending a couple of friends around to collect. When Roxanne replies that she'll have to work on Sunday, you hector her into agreeing to take it to work with her so that her "friends" can collect it from her there.<br/>
<br/>
That night, you can hardly sleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Sunday afternoon.</i> "Oh, shit, lookit that," Caleb says as you pull into the parking lot of the Monte Viso Miniature Golf and Go-Kart Track. He points. There's a black-and-white prowler in the livery of the Saratoga Falls Police Department.<br/>
<br/>
"So?" you retort. "Even off-duty cops have to go someplace."<br/>
<br/>
"I just don't like seeing cops where we're supposed to be receiving stolen goods."<br/>
<br/>
"The goods aren't stolen. We paid for them fair and square."<br/>
<br/>
"With stolen money."<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't steal any money." You're in a mood to argue, for you're wearing Alex Day's brain-band again. "We just used the credit card that's— Oh, <i>fuck!</i>" You quickly pull into a parking space and stare back in horror at the green SUV that's parked in a corner. Your fears are realized when you read the license plate.<br/>
<br/>
It belongs to Alex Day's parents.</span></div></div>


path: 11121121112113351
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Flirting with Success
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>You peel out of the parking lot and slip through traffic like a greased salamander around boulders. A siren blares behind as the black-and-white initiates its pursuit. Caleb's turning green, so you ease him over to lean out the window. Rule number one has always been "no puking in the car."</i><br/>
<br/>
That would be stupid. There's no way you can escape a high performance cop car. Half the town's force will be heading this way from the all-points announcement of a runner in an old pickup leaving Monte Viso. You should just turn Caleb in. It's his phone anyway. They can't prove you did it. You can claim innocence. He just asked you to help today. You had no idea he was ...<br/>
<br/>
"What oh fuck?" Caleb asks, bringing you back from a racing imagination, still nervously drumming fingers on the steering wheel.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, that green SUV."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Belongs to Alex's parents, the girl who bought the stuff for us."<br/>
<br/>
"Bought the stuff for us?"<br/>
<br/>
"How would you explain it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't. Too risky. Let's go. A cop and the parents. It's a trap to catch the crooks."<br/>
<br/>
"What crooks? What trap? It's too obvious. If they want to catch us, they can trace your phone number."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, shit. I'm screwed. Should never have let you. Another lame-ass fuckup by Will "fuckup" Prescott. You've really fucked us now."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know that. It could all be coincidence. We need to scope it out and see what's happening before we panic."<br/>
<br/>
"Panic? We're beyond panic. It's put-your-head-between-your-knees-and-kiss-your-ass-goodbye time. Where are you going?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's too much of a freaked-out pussy. He's been antsy about the whole deal buying the stuff, and now he's worried about a cop and a parent. You've been in lots of situations worse than this and survived. Your instincts have always carried you ...<br/>
<br/>
<i>Wait. That's Alex's mind thinking. So was that potential car chase, evaluating options.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's been her mind affecting you. She gave you the idea how to get stuff, and her memories guided you with the right information and how to set it all up. Her mind is now giving you the courage to get through this and succeed, using her experience from all those things she's done, and managed to come out, mostly, unscathed. This should be fine, too, if you let her guide you.<br/>
<br/>
You wander towards the ticket booth then do a side step to look into the snack bar and picnic area. It's just normal kids doing what normal kids do late Sunday afternoon. A few are staring out at a cop talking to a guy that Alex's mind recognizes as her father. They're standing next to pile of rubble that you're sure used to be a windmill on the seventh hole. It's the same lady cop from the old elementary school, and she looks even hotter today. That's definitely not Alex's mind. They seem to be rather involved as they are taking notes, so you head back to the ticket booth to find Roxanne.<br/>
<br/>
"Tornado hit the seventh hole?" you ask leaning on the counter as calm and confident as Alex herself would be. It seems that you're able to use or mingle any part of her mind and attitude for yourself, and right now you have no fear even as Will Prescott's emotions remain buried so you don't shake and sputter.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, if you count it being some Eastman students who fell into it last night."<br/>
<br/>
"That a parent of one of the kids over there? Trying to convince the cop not to press charges?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah. One of the"—she air quotes—"investors. Has to make an official police report for insurance purposes. He owns an insurance agency also. Likes to be hands-on when it comes to money, always tracking it. That's probably why he's kept the mountain of it he brought with him when he moved here."<br/>
<br/>
"Must have been some really big guys to take out a windmill that size." You smile brightly at her.<br/>
<br/>
"Eastman basketball team. They were horsing around when the new guys showed up. Blondie and Mr. Stoic. Joe kept badgering them for details on this girl they saw over in Acheson. The girl's brother and this other guy took offense and chased Joe under the windmill."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes and eyebrows had gone up. This sounds like the guys that were at the old school when you turned into that girl. Fortunately, Roxanne thinks your reaction is about the basketball player.<br/>
<br/>
"I said he's a little crazy, <i>and</i> a lot dumb. There was a loud boom, and everything just crumbled. I guess they tripped or fell or something. Next thing you know, pile of pieces and bodies. Strange. You'd think it would just fall over."<br/>
<br/>
"Quite the excitement. You're Roxanne, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um, yeah," she offers looking at you suspiciously. "Oh! You must be the pickup for Alex."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, if you're not too busy. Where should I collect it and when do you get off?" You can't believe that you flirted like that. She's decent looking, and Alex knows she's not attached, but what are you doing letting Alex's daring take over?<br/>
<br/>
She chuckles but doesn't answer the last. "It's in the red hatchback on the other side of that green SUV." She points. "It's unlocked. I gotta stay here."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. OK. Do you need a receipt or anything?" <i>Where did that stupid thing come from.</i><br/>
<br/>
She laughs. "Did Alex tell you to say that? Sounds just like something she would do. What's she doing with all this stuff anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
"Secret project, like everything else she does. I have no idea either. She just said make sure no one mentions it to anyone or <i>even to her</i>. She wants to think no one knows, and she'd be pissed at whoever let anything out. I'm suppose to leave it all at a clandestine drop spot and vacate the place, never to look back. You know how she is."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. How do you know Alex, and can you tell me your name, or is that secret, too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Name's Will." You reach out a friendly hand with your best smile. "The rest is a secret. Maybe for, later?" Damn Alex's mind got you doing it again.<br/>
<br/>
As she lets go, she adds, "Not tonight, but you've got my number."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks for helping." You wink at her and can't help smiling as you saunter back to the parking lot, hoping Caleb hasn't soiled your truck along with his pants.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
You've stashed everything in the bowels of the theater where no one will find, and it really smells of bowels amplified. You think about ordering some gas masks, but decide against it. Besides it would take too long, and Caleb insists that you stop. No more taking chances.<br/>
<br/>
With the new lights, you were able to find a staircase behind a door or the side of the stage that lead down to a set of small rooms under the stage. They were empty except for a little junk and lots of dust, but perfect with a couple still containing storage cupboards. They might have been dressing rooms when the place was first built as a vaudeville house. The door down took a bit to pry open and could easily be wedged shut for security. If someone did go down, the junk was piled in front of the cupboard. No one would find it without a lot of work and choking on the stench.<br/>
<br/>
It was getting late and a school night, so you and Caleb lock up and head home. Since Caleb will be working again after school at Salopek, you and Caleb agree that you will find a couple fans to help clear the air in the new 'lab,' which sounded better to Caleb than hideout like you were criminals. Actually, you can get a couple from home since fall has cooled things down and they were put away in the garage until next summer.<br/>
<br/>
You'll go in to school tomorrow as yourselves. Your task while Caleb works is to make another mask and mind thingie to replace his that you accidentally used on Sarah and Alex. Caleb did offer to help on your homework since you managed to salvage all the supplies, and that's good because you've really let it slide and need to get going on schoolwork before your dad grounds you and no more magic.<br/>
<br/>
Or do you? Alex is really bright, and you can keep her mind in through classes and tests. No one would know just as long as you don't start scribbling in her handwriting. You’ve also not dug into her memories. Other than being a perverted peeping Tom, you should check what she was doing at the theater the night she surprised you. Hopefully, she won't be back.<br/>
<br/>
Alex also knows some about the girl you first copied, enough that the story Roxanne told you about the windmill sort of makes sense. "Blondie" and "Mr. Stoic" must be Joe and Frank Durras, two brothers who showed up at Eastman at the start of the year and joined the basketball team. "The girl" they were asking about is probably Sarah White, and it was probably her brother, the coach, and Shawn Gregory that chased Joe under the windmill. It bothers you a little that the Eastman team is still hung up about the "girl" (you) that they saw at the old elementary school. But the "Alex" part of your brain is more interested in the implication that Shawn is dating the coach's freshman sister. <i>That</i> is pretty juicy.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe that's why you start thinking that you might be able to get enough info to impersonate this Sarah person. You're friends with Yumi Saito, so that should be easy to setup to talk to her. Since (according to Jenny Ashton) she has a cousin at Eastman, that could enable you to arrange something where you could get to Sarah and get her mind so you'd have a full disguise. Actually, you wonder if you should try on the mask plus Alex's memories so you can act more like a girl.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Did I just really think that?</i><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 111211211121133511
author_id: masktrixie
title: A Day in the Life
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your extra-curricular hobby – if stealing people’s faces can really be counted as a hobby – is already draining you when it comes to schoolwork. But two brains are better than one, and if you can’t get Caleb to do your homework, you might as well try Alex Day. At the very worst, it’ll give you a new perspective on the girls at your school tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
You’re still wondering what Alex’s mind might teach you when you pull into the driveway and head to the garage, stuffing the fans into the truck ready for delivering to the theater. Then it’s into your home, where you’re immediately greeted (or assaulted) by some kind of fresh alpine scent – your mom must still be on her cleaning obsession. “Hey, Will,” your mom calls as you pass the lounge. “You just missed your friends.”<br/>
<br/>
You pause, peeking around the corner. Your mom and dad are watching TV. “What friends?”<br/>
<br/>
“<i>Your </i>friends,” she says. “Frank and Joe. I told them that you’d be out late, so they said they’d stop around tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, OK,” you say, confused. Frank and Joe… as in the guys who were at Monte Viso’s when the windmill was demolished? What the hell do they want with you?<br/>
<br/>
“And remind Caleb I expect him at Salopek promptly after school,” your dad adds. “This is a job, they don’t let you come and go as you please.”<br/>
<br/>
“They don’t let you do that at school, either,” you reply. It gets only a stern look from your father, and you wonder what it’s about. Then you realize Salopek probably did a background check on Caleb with the school and noticed a day of unauthorized absence. “I’ll remind him,” you say with a reassuring smile, before heading up to your room and slipping on the mind band.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Homework? Fuck, you’re boring. Look at this room, my dude. What you need is to screw up everything and reinvent yourself. Normally when I ask someone to let the Guru into their heart, I’m talking fucking figuratively. There are much more interesting things in life than homework… </i>You blink, and suppress Alex’s urges to bail on your assignments and go do something far more interesting. <i>Spray paint a wall. Create art and beauty. Go mess with Robert’s head, show him that there’s more to his older brother than he thinks. Or you could always take a little personal time. </i>You shut your eyes, letting Alex’s mind replay hazy nights at The Warehouse, mixing fast dancing and sweaty bodies with the taste of guys on her lips, the feeling of beers and pills electrifying her body, and her vision filled with Izzy and Rae, her two friends, dancing without a care. You can’t help but settle into the memory, and without even noticing you drift into a deep, sweet sleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You jar yourself awake, and almost immediately realize you’ve slept through your alarm. There’s no time to do homework, and barely enough time to rush downstairs and grab breakfast – and another pointed reminder from your father that Caleb needs to be prompt at Salopek – before you head to Westside.<br/>
<br/>
You manage to doze through first period, but you're jolted awake second period when you hear your name called.<br/>
<br/>
“William Prescott,” Mr Hawks says. “Why don’t you read your essay first?”<br/>
<br/>
Shit! You completely forgot you were due to hand in an assignment for Film-as-Lit. You feel your face turn white, and your pulse quickens as you know you haven’t got anything – not even a good excuse.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, Mr Prescott?” Hawks says. “We’re waiting.” He pauses and gives you a stern eye. “Where is your essay? And don’t tell me the dog ate it.”<br/>
<br/>
You gulp, trying to recover from a throat that’s suddenly scorched to dryness. Film-as-Lit is supposed to be bullshit, and yet you know how seriously Hawks takes his tour of crappy old movies, and any slacking is going to result in him coming down hard on you. Then, without warning, you feel a placid calmness. It’s not a reassuring calm, or a confidence that you can get out of it. It’s the calm of a center of a hurricane: a dead space that simply does not care about the consequences of the chaos it brings about it. And it’s at that point you remember you haven’t taken off Alex’s mind band.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Relax, my dude. Let the Guru take the wheel.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Actually, sir, I memorized it,” you lie, standing up from your desk and walking to the front of the class. You give Hawks a wink as you turn to the rest of the class. “Art, bitches!” you begin, causing shocked gasps and giggles to erupt. “Art is the act of creation. But art can also be seen in destruction, including that of a person. And, either creative or destructive, it is constantly distorted by the prism of the viewer – the unreliable narrator in us all. In this essay, I will demonstrate that Charles Foster Kane is a work of art, rather than his folly of Xanadu or the papers to which he dedicated his life…”<br/>
<br/>
You stop after five minutes, your jaw aching, and a smug grin on your face. Alex is forced every year to watch that stupid-ass movie with her family, who apparently saw something of Kane in their own history. She can recite parts verbatim even if she doesn’t want to, and her artist’s instinct knows how to pick apart interpretation. You give a slight cough, and turn to Hawks. In a single, continuous diatribe you’ve analysed and debunked each of Hawks’ own theories about the movie that he’s been pushing for the past few weeks.<br/>
<br/>
There’s a silence in the room. Then Hawks mutters a long, drawn out hmm. “B plus,” he says. “Back to your seat, Mr Prescott.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
The rest of the day passes quickly enough, and you remind Caleb to head to Salopek – getting a withering response from him that yes, dude, he remembers. As soon as the bell signals the end of the day, you make your way to the parking lot and your truck. To your surprise, there’s already a boy about your age leaning against it. He’s blonde, good looking, athletic, and has an easy, sunny smile on his face.<br/>
<br/>
You don’t recognize him yourself, but Alex does. Joe Durras, her mind informs you. Him and his brother Frank just moved to Eastman, and quickly made a splash and made themselves two of the most popular guys at the school. Not that Alex is unimpressed, though. My man, he’s already decided who and what he is, she tells you. He is beyond help.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey!” Joe calls as you walk up. “You’re Will Prescott, right? Boy, you’re a hard man to pin down. I’m Joe. Nice to meet you.” He thrusts his hand out, and you shake it warily.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh, hi,” you manage to stumble out. “Yeah, my mom said you and someone else came around last night.”<br/>
<br/>
“Right,” Joe says, smile never wavering. “My brother Frank. You making a robot or something?”<br/>
<br/>
“Huh?” Your nerves prickle, and you blink in confusion as you try to sort out why there are warning bells going off in your head.<br/>
<br/>
“Those fans in the bed of your truck. Unless you’re looking to ventilate somewhere, the only reason you’d need this junk is for spare parts. Y’know, build a death robot, crash it into other death robots. That your thing?”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh, not really.” Watch out, Alex is telling you. I knew there was something funny about these guys as soon as I met them. They're almost too on the level to be legit.<br/>
<br/>
“I was hoping we could grab a bite to eat, talk,” Joe says. “My treat. Believe me when I say it’s important. It’s about the elementary school in Acheson. Oh! Don’t worry man!” He grins, slapping you warmly on the arm. “It’s nothing bad. I just need your help with some stuff. I’m guessing you can answer a few questions that have been itching at me, is all.”<br/>
<br/>
<i>Holy shit, this guy’s a narc! </i>Alex screams at you.<i> I can smell the narc all over him! Him and his 'brother' are straight out of </i>21 Jump Street!<i> He’s an undercover cop, dumbass, sent to infiltrate high schools – he thinks you’re supplying weed or some shit! Bail before you end up in jail!</i><br/>
<br/>
You have just enough self control to not bolt. But while Alex is telling you to fake a trip back into the school, and to find another way home, that would be way too dramatic for Will Prescott. And even if Joe is an undercover cop you’ve got nothing to worry about.</span></div></div>


path: 1112112111211335111
author_id: nostrum777
title: Spoofing the Interrogation
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You've been relying a lot on Alex Day's instincts, and wearing a copy of her mind to school was probably the most stupidly accidental act of brilliance you've ever done.<br/>
<br/>
And now she's telling you to run. But <i>you</i> feel confident you can handle this guy. <br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure!" you tell him. "I'm always up for, like, eating."<br/>
<br/>
"Great!" Joe flashes a very wide grin and pats you on the shoulder. "I'm starving!"<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
Joe drives a truck a lot like to yours, and following him from the school is kind of like following your twin. His choice of eatery unnerves you when you pull up to it. The Crystal Cave is one of many spooky coffee shops located near Keyserling College, and is notable for the astrological symbols that decorate the booths and tables. At least, that's what Alex (who knows a lot more about that kind of thing than you do) has noticed about the place. Inside, Joe orders a cup of coffee and a chocolate-chip muffin for himself, and the same for you when you plead poverty. He then leads you back into the dining room. You'd prefer to sit at the "Moon" table in the corner, but Joe steers you to "Mercury."<br/>
<br/>
"So, the community center down in Acheson," he starts as you settle in. "You know anything about that place? I hear it used to be an elementary school."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. It got repurposed ... I dunno. Back before I was born."<br/>
<br/>
"You heard about the bum that was living in the basement?"<br/>
<br/>
You tense. "Um, I heard something kind of like that."<br/>
<br/>
"You run into him when you went down in there?"<br/>
<br/>
The question is very matter-of-fact, but of course it startles you. <i>Guy's a cop! Toldja he'd catch you!</i> Alex screams at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I ... never went in the basement," you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"I heard you did," Joe says. "I heard you were hanging out there, practically moved in. I heard <i>you</i> were the homeless guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Not me," you insist. "Who was telling you I was?"<br/>
<br/>
"Summ'a the neighborhood kids. They said they saw Robert Prescott's brother hanging out there. That's you, right?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Little fuckers!</i> "Oh. Yeah," you reply. "That. But it wasn't me. I was at home with my family."<br/>
<br/>
"What, you never leave the house?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do. You. Never. Leave. Your house? Because how can you be sure you were with your family at the same time the kids were spotting you at the old school?"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "Because they came looking for me. Yeah!" You warm to the story as you imagine yourself in Caleb's place that afternoon. "They came all busting in," you tell him, "and they were all, like, 'Will, what are <i>you</i> doing here, we just saw you down at the old school!' And I was all, Nah, I been here all the time." You lift your chin. "Didn't they tell you that?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe laughs and leans back in his chair. "Yeah, but they didn't believe you. They're totally convinced it was you out there, and that you just ran home really quick."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I didn't."<br/>
<br/>
"I get you. But don't you think it's weird? Your brother's friends spotting a guy who <i>looks just like you</i> in the old school basement?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you tell him. Your heart is starting to beat really fast, and it's getting harder to keep your cool. "They're a bunch of dorky thirteen-year-olds. Like my brother."<br/>
<br/>
His grin sharpens. "Little brothers are a pain in the ass, aren't they?" You shrug. "But it's funny, 'cos everyone saw this girl Bonny out there too."<br/>
<br/>
"Bonny?" Your heart skips. "Who's—?"<br/>
<br/>
"And you know, she also swears up and down that she was never in the basement. So that's two of you seen there when both of you swears you weren't." He holds your eye, and there's a bright gleam in his.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The fuck?</i> you wonder. Your face feels hot, then cold. "Bonny? Bonny who? I don't know—"<br/>
<br/>
"Bonny Belinda Buttonwood. Real tongue-twister of a name." His mouth curls up into an enormous smile. "<i>You</i> try saying it. Say 'Bonny—"<br/>
<br/>
Your interrupted by your phone: a text from your dad reminding you to tell Caleb not to be late.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, I gotta go," you tell him. "My dad." You trip over your feet as you get up, but Joe remains seated, and twines his hands behind his head. "I don't know what's going on at the school, and I don't care. I don't know why <i>you</i> care. But there's nothing going on, I'm sure!"<br/>
<br/>
Joe says nothing as you run out of the place. Neither does "Alex." She just claps slowly and sarcastically in the back of your head.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
You're just returning to the theater office when you hear the back door – which is the one you use to come and go – shut with a thud. You put out your flashlight and run back up the hallway to the concession stands. A pale circle of light shines on the wall opposite of you, and it wobbles as the intruder's flashlight follows you up the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
But even before he reaches you, Caleb yells out, "Will? You here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm here," you say as you step out. Caleb jumps when he sees you.<br/>
<br/>
Then he cracks up. "What are you doing dressed up like a chick?" he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
That's one reason you hid. You knew he was going to give you the business about putting on Sarah's mask and some girly clothes.<br/>
<br/>
You're probably not much to look at. After all, it's dark in theater, and you're dressed in the cheapest threads you could find at Thrifty Nifties, up by the mall. It was Alex's brain that suggested it to you, probably because Alex likes to do things with her hands when she's unnerved. So from The Crystal Cave you drove to the thrift shop, bought some old yoga pants and a midriff-baring t-shirt, then (leaving your truck at the mall) took the bus downtown to the theater. With thirty minutes or so to kill before Caleb would get off work, you have spent it with Alex's mind and Sarah's body and these used clothes, giving yourself as careful a look over as you could manage with selfies taken in the acrid light of LED lanterns.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I look good,</i> you think, and you feel good. Sarah's diminutive body and Alex's out-size mind make for a pretty explosive combination, and the feeling of being someone else – someone confident, and quick-witted, and wild – is exhilarating. <br/>
<br/>
And already you are thinking ahead: <i>I want to go out like this, but I can't get caught like I did last time, not after that crazy conversation at the Crystal Cave. </i> But that's easy to take care of. A haircut would be enough. Maybe a pixie or a mohawk? Dyeing your hair platinum blonde, or better yet, mint green? Do a few piercings, maybe a few tats? And definitely get better clothes – the thrift shop doesn't have your (Alex's) style. You can hardly contain yourself as you are overwhelmed by the Alex-like urge to treat Sarah's body as a canvas.<br/>
<br/>
But now here's Caleb, to drag you back into the present. "Hey, chick-Will," he jeers, and snaps his fingers. "I asked you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." You blink hard, shaking your head. "Sorry, got distracted."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you playing dress up for?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, for it suddenly feels like it will all sound very silly if you try to explain it aloud. "Well," you say, "it is an old theater. Isn't this exactly the kind of place to play dress up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, for fuck's sake."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, <i>you've</i> got somebody to dress up as. Me. But I want to have some fun too!"<br/>
<br/>
"You had your fun back at the old school. That's how come we're <i>here</i> now."<br/>
<br/>
Something inside you snaps. <br/>
<br/>
"Then maybe we just should get rid of that book and all our shit!" you explode. "If the only thing we're going to do is dress <i>you</i> up as <i>me</i> and send you to school while I hide out someplace—! Jesus, man, you want to hog all the fucking fun for yourself while I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, <i>okay!</i>" Caleb hollers.<br/>
<br/>
"Besides," you continue, "I got it figured out how to keep from being recognized. I'll give myself a makeover. I won't look like 'Sarah White' anymore. I sure as fuck don't feel like her."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb smirks. "I hope not."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I feel like Alex Day. That's right." You grin as Caleb's expression craters. "I'm wearing that metal doohickey so I can think like her. It's how I got through today at school."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," Caleb says. "Does Alex Day know how you're going to pay for a makeover? Or do you have a bankroll you've been holding out on me?"<br/>
<br/>
Now it's your expression that craters. He's right: you spent the last little drabs of cash you had on the clothes you're wearing and the bus fare from the mall. Caleb laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," he says, "I owe you, or Alex Day, or somebody for getting us all the shit we need for the book, so I'll front you forty bucks from my first paycheck." From his pocket he takes two twenties. "But you need to stop being such a dumbass."<br/>
<br/>
You're too surprised by the appearance of this money to bridle at the insult. "How'd you get an advance on your paycheck?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"From your dad. He came and found me today." Caleb cocks his head. "I thought you set it up. He told me you asked him for an advance for me—"<br/>
<br/>
You drown the rest of his explanation in a loud whoop, and dance around the darkened lobby. Caleb finally grabs you and stops you from bouncing around like an automatic pogo stick. <br/>
<br/>
"You're welcome," he says. "You can start paying me back by helping me start on the next spell."<br/>
<br/>
But what you really want to do is get that makeover. It's Alex (again) who helps you see a way of slithering your way out.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I left my truck up at the mall so no one would see me parked here,</i> you could tell him. <i>You get started, and I'll move your car up next to mine, then take the bus back here.</i><br/>
<br/>
And you'll start to work on that makeover while you're out.</span></div></div>


path: 11121121112113351112
author_id: rugal
title: The New Girl with a Familiar Face
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Look, I'd love to help; really," you tell Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"But?" His eyes narrow.<br/>
<br/>
Normally in a situation like this you'd wilt, but Alex's mind helps to stiffen your spine. "I gotta go grab my truck."<br/>
<br/>
"Your truck," he echoes.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Didn't you notice it's not here? I didn't want anyone to connect me to the theater, so I stashed it at the mall and caught a bus here. I should move it here, so I'll have it."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stares at you for a good long time. Then he shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"I've really been overestimating your intelligence," he says. "Of all the stupid things I've ever heard... Why did you even think you needed to do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, 'cause of this guy Joe I ran into after school. He was just, like, waiting for me in the parking lot. He was one of the Eastman basketball players out at the community center the other day, you know, um, when I got caught by them?" You refuse to blush at the memory of that cock up. "And I guess he was trying to play detective or something 'cause he was asking me a lot of questions about why I was out there. Ya know, when you were playing me the first time?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is silent for a moment. "What did you tell him?" he asks slowly.<br/>
<br/>
"I said I was never there. He said Robert's friends insisted that they saw me but I told him I never left the house. I mean, you were with my family so it's not even a total lie."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb grunts. "Fine. But who cares if some Eastman meathead think's he's Sherlock Holmes? This place is clear on the other side of town from where we were, so stop being a paranoid idiot. Let's just get your truck and pretend this whole stupid thing never happened."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb drives you back up to the mall and drops you off at your truck. Sucker, you think as his bumper disappears into the street.<br/>
<br/>
The first thing you do is to head to a salon. You don't have a lot of money, but giving "Sarah" a different hairstyle should be enough to stop you from being mistaken for her. You should get a dye job too, but it would be faster and cheaper to do that yourself. Of course, you don't know when or where you could do that. It's not like you can do it at your own house, or at the theater. But you'll worry about it later.<br/>
<br/>
You head downtown to Jazz Hands, a salon that Alex herself likes to go to, and after talking it over with Alex's own regular stylist, you end up deciding on something shorter, though still below the ears, and parted though with a bit of stylish messiness to it. The conversation as she works is light and easy, though you have to restrain yourself from talking with her about the people and things that Alex herself talks about when she gets her hair done. Both of you are a little surprised at the end to find there is so little hair to sweep up.<br/>
<br/>
Just down the street is another secondhand shop, Second Pickins, which is where you should have gone rather than to Thrifty Nifties. Its wares are a lot trendier and more agreeable to Alex's tastes, and now that you're walking around in public you're starting to hate the clothes that you picked out this afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
But as you finger a pair of distressed jeans that you like, you realize that it's probably a wasted trip. Even that simple haircut used up a good chunk of your money. You're just about resigning yourself to leaving when someone catches your attention: Alex herself and her two closest friends, Rae Caldwell and Izzy Santos.<br/>
<br/>
They spot you too. "The fuck kinda clothes are those?" Alex says with a laugh as she walks over to you. "Guessing you hate 'em given how you look like you're pining for these jeans and all."<br/>
<br/>
"Dunno, what's it to you?" you retort, pitting your copy of Alex's mind against the original. "Do we even know each other?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course you don't," Rae, a willowy girl, answers. "Our girl here just really likes to insist herself on... everyone."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," says Izzy, a girl who's seemingly made asymmetry and randomness into a fashion all its own, with a giggle, "this happens like once a week."<br/>
<br/>
"Ignore 'em," Alex waves them off before turning back to you with a smile. "Actually you caught my eye 'cause you look familiar. You go to Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really. Actually," you continue as you warm to the challenge of making up a story on the fly, "I just got into town."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool, cool. So where ya from?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well ya know... out of state. Truth be told"--the ground seems to drop from beneath your feet as your story takes wing--"I kinda ran away. Super strict parents, you know? The kind that wanna control everything you do? Couldn't hang out with who I wanted or date who I wanted, super early curfews, I just couldn't take it. So I grabbed some money from my mom's purse and bolted. Bussed halfway across the country until I hit my last ten bucks here."<br/>
<br/>
The three girls -- Alex, Rae and Izzy -- all look at each other. Izzy starts giggling again, but Rae's face falls.<br/>
<br/>
"Alex, darling," she says, "you can't just adopt every stray puppy that you come across."<br/>
<br/>
"But her story, Rae!" Alex turns back to you. "It's so inspiring," she sniffles. "A girl with nothing but a dream of freedom setting off on her own with no destination in mind. It's just... so artsy!" She grins. "You, my girl, are going to be a wonderful project for the Guru..."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh god," Rae mutters, causing Alex to stop and glance back at her.<br/>
<br/>
"For the <i>Guru</i>," Alex repeats with emphasis before turning back to you, "to work on. If you want it of course." She grabs the leg of the jeans you were looking at. "Yeah, something like this? It'd look good on you. You're gonna need to get out of that," she points to the pants you're wearing, "eventually. Tell you what, Miss Doolittle, I'm a caring person--"<br/>
<br/>
"You are?" Izzy chimes in.<br/>
<br/>
"So anything you want in here? It's yours. Uh..."<br/>
<br/>
"Elizabeth," you say before quickly adding, "but everyone calls me Lizzie."<br/>
<br/>
Alex's own middle name is Elisabeth, so she laughs. "Well, I'm gonna stick with Doolittle for now. Dee-Ell for short, maybe? Anyway, I don't wanna mix up 'Izzy' and 'Lizzie.' But yeah, anything? It's yours. But I want to see you up here tomorrow evening, because you're gonna be my greatest piece yet."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
 True to her word Alex, along with Rae and Izzy, help you pick out some stuff and Alex pays for the whole thing. You change out of the rags you bought earlier, and when they see them all three girls approve of your fashion choices: the jeans, a t-shirt from a band you've never heard of, some old snugly fitted Converse sneakers, and a weathered flannel shirt to tie together a grungy sort of look; something Rae claimed to be fashionably retro.<br/>
<br/>
You thank them and Alex waves it off only insisting again that she wants to meet you here tomorrow to "discuss things". Rae insists you don't actually have to but given that, in a way, this is twice that Alex has spotted you money you feel that you owe her. So you agree and then watch the three head off.<br/>
<br/>
"Sarah?" a voice booms from the across the small parking lot as you come out of the thrift store. A boy, tall and fit, comes jogging up to you. "The hell's up with you?"<br/>
<br/>
Alex's mind immediately recognizes him as Brett Dutoit, one of the Eastman basketball players at the community center on Sunday. So much for being saved by my haircut, you cuss to yourself. At the same time, you can't tear yourself away from him. Brett is dark-haired and well-built, and Alex Day, you realize to your chagrin, has a crush on him.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," you sigh at him, "I don't know who this Sarah girl is but I'm not her. My name's Elizabeth. Elizabeth Benjamin." That's the last name of someone Alex knew at St. Francis Xavier School.<br/>
<br/>
"Where do you go to school?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't. I just moved to town." You give him the same story you gave Alex, about being a runaway.<br/>
<br/>
"Damn," Brett mutters as he stares at you. "You're the second girl I've seen who looks just like Sarah."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I remember you too," you tell him. "You and bunch of guys were playing basketball at this old school. You guys thought I was 'Sarah' there too." Hopefully, this "admission" will clear up that mystery about the girl they saw that day.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa!" Brett's eyes widen. Then his brow furrows. "But that girl told Shawn her name was Bonny!"<br/>
<br/>
"So I made up a name."<br/>
<br/>
"How old are you?" Brett asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Seventeen. I look young for my age," you add when he blinks in surprise. "And stop freaking out 'cause I look like this girl you know. Sometimes people just look similar. You ever see someone and you think they're someone famous but then you realize they're not? That they just look like 'em?"<br/>
<br/>
Brett nods. "Well, look, sorry for hassling you then." He flashes you a small smile, and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hey," he continues, "I was going to join my buddy and his girl and probably some others for a little early-week mini-golf," he says. "If you wanna come, you know, uh ..." He trails off and turns a little red. "We can cover for you. We were gonna eat there."<br/>
<br/>
He lets the obvious invitation hang in the air which causes that pounding to get even harder and Alex's brain to practically explode. Brett's hair is shaggy and he has hazel eyes that are somehow both soft and piercing. His family owns a scrapyard so Alex has talked to him before as has there to pick up material whenever she's working on something metal. For a jock he's not bad at all; a pretty cool guy.<br/>
<br/>
You need to get back to the theater but Alex's brain is practically screaming at you to accept the invitation.</span></div></div>


path: 111211211121133511121
author_id: seuzz
title: It's a Date!
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You've already blown it with Caleb. He was expecting you to follow him back to the theater, and you turned your phone off while changing clothes so you wouldn't get any texts. So you might as well spend the rest of the evening having fun.<br/>
<br/>
"So what've you been doing in Saratoga Falls?" Brett asks as he leads you across the street to his car.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh just, you know, hanging out. There's not a lot to do here, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"So why do you stay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I ran out of money."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh? So, um, how are you eating?"<br/>
<br/>
You have no idea how runaways manage, so you improvise. "Well, there's some shelters and food kitchens, you know. It's not, like, great or anything, but I can get along. And you can scrounge. You know, there's a lot of wasted food around, if you're not picky."<br/>
<br/>
"And you're staying down in Acheson, in that old elementary school?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I got chased out of there. I've just been finding places to stay." You tense, because you sense that Brett is about to offer to let you crash at his family's scrap metal place. "Look, don't worry about me," you tell him. "I didn't come along so I could talk about my problems. I came along because I wanted to do something <i>except</i> worry about my problems. So tell me about you."<br/>
<br/>
So Brett tells you about himself and his family and their business, and though he doesn't come right out and invite you to stay in their scrap yard, he does go out of his way to describe how someone could get in and hide there and not be found.<br/>
<br/>
And on the long drive back up to the minigolf, you find yourself fighting the urge to put your hands on him. <i>Down, girl,</i> you growl at Alex. <i>Isn't it enough that I accepted his invite?</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As he pulls into Monte Viso, you ask Brett to not introduce you to anyone as a "homeless girl" that he picked up. That causes him to groan. "I am such a moron," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"I totally blew something! I went downtown to meet up with this girl and bring her back here, and I guess I just sort of totally blew her off."<br/>
<br/>
"You blew off a <i>date?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"On accident! And it wasn't a date. It was just a girl at school. We got to talking today and kinda said we might do something tonight."<br/>
<br/>
A horrible suspicion comes to you. "What was her name?"<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't know her. Alex Day?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck!</i> You don't know whether to laugh or scream. "You're right," you say. "How would I know her? You gonna go back and pick her up?"<br/>
<br/>
Brett hesitates, then pulls into a parking space and kills the motor. "Nah," he says. "I'll just text her tomorrow that I forgot."<br/>
<br/>
"I think you should go back and get her."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, it's okay. It wasn't a real date, she just wanted to hang out with us. She's got a full life anyway, and I think she probably just wanted to come along so she could sneer at the golf course. Her family's loaded, they know all about real ones."<br/>
<br/>
<i>You son of a bitch,</i> you think, and Brett is now all of a sudden a whole lot less attractive.<br/>
<br/>
There's a quartet waiting for you inside, and Brett introduces you as "Lizzie," who he met downtown. He introduces the others to you, and you nod along, even though thanks to Alex's brain you are pretty familiar with them already. Jordan Reynolds is another Eastman basketball player, and his girlfriend, Marcy Gilroy, is another artsy bohemian like Alex. The other couple, Alan Hammett and Caroline Weld, are also part of the school's arts scene, and Alex has a cool but cordial relationship with them all. You tell the others that you're homeschooled and so don't attend any of the local high schools. But you have the impression that Brett at one point takes Jordan aside to tell him about you and how you were at the Acheson elementary school, because Jordan starts giving you funny looks.<br/>
<br/>
The game and the company are fun enough, and the hot dog and popcorn are good, but it's not very interesting. You yourself aren't much into the doings at Eastman High, and there's only some tired old gossip for "Alex" to listen to. The only interesting exchange occurs at the sixth hole. Jordan points his putter at a stain of white dust at the next hole. "You see what's missing?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"That's where the windmill was, right?" Alan says. "What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was freaky. Joe was crouching down underneath it and Shawn was trying to get at him, and it suddenly just exploded."<br/>
<br/>
"Shawn broke it?" Caroline exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't know how it happened. Just ... boom!"<br/>
<br/>
"I bet it was Joe's fault," Marcy snorts. "What an idiot."<br/>
<br/>
Alan laughs. "Did you hear about what he said in Ms. Cussler's class the other day? She was talking about the transcontinental railroad, and how many people died building it across the Rockies. And Joe says, If it was so hard to build it east to west, why didn't they build it north to south instead?"<br/>
<br/>
Caroline laughs. "Was he joking? No one's <i>that</i> dumb!"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe is," Jordan says. "Like, his first day at practice—"<br/>
<br/>
For the next three holes it's nothing but stories about Joe Durras and the stupid things he has said or done. How in remedial math he regularly adds one-half and one-half to make one-quarter. How in remedial English he identified "buy" as an adverb because it's always used in TV commercials. How he thought that George Washington was just a game mascot, like Uncle Moneybags on Monopoly money, and how his own brother once tricked him into eating a can of dog food by switching the labels with a can of refried beans. Jordan and Brett both admit that some of the stories might not actually be true, but they do insist that Joe is one of the dumbest—"blondest"—guys they have ever met.<br/>
<br/>
These stories don't square with the guy who quizzed you hard at the coffee shop earlier this afternoon, and soon Alex's brain is jabbing you in the back of the head. <i>He's an undercover narc,</i> she tells you. But of course you have to pretend like you've never seen or heard of this guy, and you mostly forget about it after the conversation has changed tracks.<br/>
<br/>
At the end of the evening, you get Brett to drive you back downtown, telling him that there's a place you mean to crash. He insists on writing down his address and contact info for you, and you promise not to lose it. After he drives away, you climb into your truck, change clothes, pull off the mask, and go home.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb is white with anger when you catch up to him the next morning before school. "Look, I didn't mean to bail on you," you insist after you're done regaling him with your night's adventures. "I just wanted to get a quick haircut and then I was going to catch up with you. But then all this other stuff happened. And it was totally worth it!"<br/>
<br/>
"How do you figure?" he snarls.<br/>
<br/>
"It shows how much we can get away with! Why do you want to be stuck playing <i>me</i> at school when we can use these things to go out and have fun and get in trouble?"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't get in trouble!"<br/>
<br/>
"I could've."<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly!" He jabs you in the breastbone with a sharp fingernail. "I keep telling you, man, you're gonna fuck things up! And then what do you do? You go out and <i>make it fucking worse!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I got away with it!"<br/>
<br/>
"For how long? You're gonna get arrested—"<br/>
<br/>
"Not as long as I don't steal something or break in somewhere. Oh, and if it's breaking and entering you're worried about, you and me are already doing that. By the way, what'd you work on last night after I ditched you?"<br/>
<br/>
Red spots show in his cheeks.<br/>
<br/>
"You really are shameless," he hisses. "You <i>ditch</i> me, then you ask what I worked on. Nothing! I waited for you, then I went home, because there was <i>no fucking way</i> I was gonna go out to a graveyard and shovel <i>four hundred fucking pounds</i> of dirt into the trunk of my car by myself!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah!" You snap your fingers. "I forgot we still need to get that. So you wanna do that tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb wheels and stalks off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It takes most of the day for Caleb to cool down, and by that point your conscience is starting to twinge a little. So in the parking lot, after school, you lay your hands on his shoulders. <br/>
<br/>
"Caleb, my man," you tell him. "I will take care of the next spell by myself. I'll go get the dirt and put it all together. You won't have to do a damn thing." He just glares at you. "I am all about making it up to you. Tell you what, why don't <i>you</i> take 'Lizze' for a spin tonight? She's, like, practically a real person now. Knows people and everything. Go have fun being her, and I'll go out to the hideout and do all the work for the next spell."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb grumbles in the back of his throat, but grudgingly accedes. You tell him to come find you at the theater when he gets off work, and you'll set him up with the mask, clothes, and memory strip that comprise her.<br/>
<br/>
But you're still wearing Alex's memory strip as you drive from the high school toward the hideout, and it is buzzing with other schemes. Having made contact with Alex as "Lizzie," it wouldn't be hard now to make a mask, get it onto Alex, and make a complete "Alex Day" disguise. You could probably even lift a credit card off her and splurge before she got it cancelled!<br/>
<br/>
You're also still bothered by that guy Joe Durras. Instead of copying Alex, maybe you should use "Lizzie" to copy someone at Eastman who could get you close to Joe, so you could get a memory strip onto him to find out what his deal is.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe instead you should keep your promise to Caleb and work on the next spell.</span></div></div>


path: 1112112111211335111213
author_id: wordsmitty
title: A Distracted Diversion
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><font class="size2" style="">[1st half by WS, 2nd half Seuzz]</font><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
As Alex keeps stirring your mind with possibilities and schemes to copy someone or have fun making masks and using all the spells available, you keep remembering your promise to Caleb to get the dirt and set things up. You're torn, or at least divided, by the two minds in your head, one with a wild imagination for projects and one with friendship tinged with a bit of guilt.<br/>
<br/>
It's not that you could really do much as Lizzie in just a few hours, and there's the possibility of being spotted again and having it all spin off on its own like happened before. Sure, Alex tells you she can handle it, but maybe Caleb is right, and you've just been lucky so far. It did feel good to be someone else, and you are now completely comfortable in Lizzie's character and form. Alex's mind even thinks it a hoot that she met herself and chuckles wondering what it would be like to let "The Guru" help her own self as Lizzie.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's the spells you'd have to do to try anything more. You need to make a mask and polish it to get Alex's body or carve one of those metal mind copiers if you were to get it on Joe. But why waste it on Joe, Alex has you ponder. Who needs the brain of a narc? There's plenty of others at school that it would be great to know their secrets and reasons they do things. Unfortunately, that just resurrects thoughts of your ex-girlfriend Lisa, and why she dropped you. You could finally find out the truth by placing one on her. Or maybe it could be a bonding experience bringing you two back together as a couple if she had your mind as well?<br/>
<br/>
Maybe not.<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if there's a way to limit access to certain memories. Perhaps there's a spell further on after you do the next one. Where and how are you suppose to get hundreds of pounds of graveyard dirt?<br/>
<br/>
By the time your fantasizing lets a small crack of reality peek through, you find yourself nowhere near downtown. Houses are disappearing into more trees as the road rolls lazily left and right. Scanning around for bearings, you see the sun scattering long Fall streaks through trees waving shadows onto a field of stone markers.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Geez! How'd I end up on Farm Road by the Masonic Cemetery?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fate!</i> Alex replies in your head.<br/>
<br/>
Visible, just on the other side of the wall, is a backhoe, preparing for the next tenant. A couple scoops of that and you'd have enough for sure. All you need is a ruse to get them to fill the truck bed. There must be leftover when they drop a coffin in the hole. Tell them it's a school garden project. Maybe they wouldn't believe some guy, but what if it was a girl?<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe it would be safer to sneak back later. But would mean shoveling because not even Alex, who's gotten into lots of various vehicles to do so many projects, knows anything about running a backhoe.<br/>
<br/>
Your house is back the other way, so half a mile up the road you pull onto the shoulder to turn around, and fetch up next to a high, whitewashed stone wall. Before you complete the turn, though, you glance through a wrought-iron gate set in the wall, and brake to a hard stop. Your jaw slackens as you stare at the house and grounds on the other side.<br/>
<br/>
Squatting like an immense stone brick at the end of a long walk is a two-story villa. Though the westerning sun is pouring light onto its peach-colored face, there is an air of dreary desolation about it, so that the dark windows resemble the eyeless sockets and toothless maw of a skull. What little of the yard you glimpse appears to be as flat and dead as pavement, only browner. A lone, leafless tree, grasping at the sky like a claw, stands sentry at the nearest corner of the house.<br/>
<br/>
Drawn by the possibilities of using the house as a canvas—<i>Shut up, Alex</i>—you kill the motor and get out to approach the gate and peer through. Your eyes widen when this closer inspection reveals a small stone building in the side yard, with a sprinkling of monuments trailing away from it. Obviously, a crypt and the plots of the family that owns, or still owns, the place. A private graveyard like that could probably give up some topsoil without any of the occupants noticing or caring.<br/>
<br/>
The gate is unlocked, and you slip through. Better and better! As you approach the crypt you see that there's a wheelbarrow and shovel next to the mausoleum, and the ground is already scored with a wide, shallow trench.<br/>
<br/>
That shovel and wheelbarrow give you pause, though. Does that mean that the house isn't as deserted as it appears? Alex's first instinct is to grab the dirt while the grabbing is good—you'd just have to dump as much as you can into the wheelbarrow, cart it out to your truck, and return until you had moved four hundred pounds' worth. Your own, more cautious instinct is to fetch the scale and the sandbags you bought on Amazon, and return to this house as "Lizzie," to ask permission to dig up some of the dirt for a school art project.<br/>
<br/>
But your most cautious instinct is to return to the cemetery. There are no gates on that place, so there's nothing to prevent you from driving into it after dark and taking whatever you want from some back corner.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11121121112113351112133
author_id: rugal
title: Work and Play
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're still hemming and hawing over what to do when you eventually realize that the reality is that you only have one option. You've largely been improvising everything without telling Caleb and simultaneously been throwing most of the work on him. Though you think it's a bit of revenge because his going home as you is what kicked off this chain of events in the first place. Still you figure that if you thought you owed Alex then you do owe Caleb since on top of everything else he did spot you some money.<br/>
<br/>
Messing around with this house is most likely going to be too much trouble as well so you decide the Masonic cemetery is the only real choice. But you remember your promise to Caleb -- that you'd let him mess around with "Lizzie" -- so you head back to the theater first.<br/>
<br/>
"Where the hell have you been?" Caleb impatiently asks as you enter.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey to you too, buddy," you reply sarcastically as you place the mask and clothes onto the floor. "I just got caught up in something, no big. I'll get out to the cemetery to get the dirt later."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh, just pass it over," he says as he holds his hand out.<br/>
<br/>
So you crouch down and remove the band, handing it to him once you come to. He takes it, sits down where you were and places the band to his head. You wait the couple of minutes it takes for him to open his eyes. "Well?" you ask. "You getting it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Am I...?" He pauses and blinks. "Yeah I think so. Jeez, this is way different from being you, dude. It's like this girl's got a hundred different thoughts going on at once." He heads over to where you'd placed the stuff and grabs the mask. He looks at it for a moment before looking back at you. "Gimme a little privacy," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug and head outside whiling away the time on your phone. It's about fifteen minutes before Caleb emerges completely decked out as your made up character.<br/>
<br/>
"Shit," he says as he sees you.<br/>
<br/>
"How is it?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I wore this girl's mask on its own but with that Alex chick's mind to go with it..." He shivers a bit. "It's just so fuckin' weird. Like it feels natural because she's a girl too but at the same it doesn't 'cause, ya know, this isn't her body."<br/>
<br/>
"I felt like that too," you admit, "but you have to grow used to it. You just have to be careful because Alex has got a strong personality. You can't let it overwhelm you."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, yeah I'm already getting that." Caleb looks thoughtful for a moment and then grins. "Shit, that was a pretty good story you told her and that Eastman clown though," he says with a laugh. "If you'd told it to me I might've actually started to believe you too."<br/>
<br/>
"Well I'm glad you're getting it then," you state, "because you're gonna need to be in top form."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would... oooh," he realizes. "Yeah I think I can handle this. Fuck me though you didn't tell me this Alex chick knew Rae Caldwell."<br/>
<br/>
That takes you by surprise. "<i>You</i> know her?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, yeah!" he exclaims. "She's starting to get kinda popular on her social media stuff. Her Insta is like over fifteen thousand? Posts a lot of pictures and photo sets of herself and her outfits. Gets a lot of likes and shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't know you were such a connoisseur of that stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not," he grins a little more lasciviously and it looks a bit weird on Sarah's -- or Lizzie's, you suppose -- face. "She's hot, that's all I really care about."<br/>
<br/>
"Well lucky for you then 'cause you're supposed to be meeting Alex and them out at Second Pickin's in a bit," you tell him. "Just try to keep yourself in check around them though."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb, with a dismissive noise, waves off your warning as being unnecessary. After he's gone you head back into the theater. The book is there but it's a bit too early to head back to the cemetery so you scour through the stuff you'd purchased until you find the ingredients you need, and then opening the book you follow the steps and it's not long before you've got an unpolished mask.<br/>
<br/>
But that's not the end of it. You find the buffer that Caleb tossed in and get to work. It's a process that's far less tiring on your arms and you're amazed when it's not long before you see that the entire mask is now a nice, brilliant blue. You can hardly believe it, the damn thing actually worked. Best of all it only took maybe forty-five minutes or an hour to do all told.<br/>
<br/>
You can't help but to pause and think about the possibilities. With this and all the stuff you bought you and Caleb could build yourselves a nice collection of masks.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After making that mask you get to work on a band which takes less time than you expected to finish.<br/>
<br/>
Once you're done you look at your phone and realizing the time you grab the box of sandbags and toss them into the back of your truck. You also grab the mask, the band and the book before you lock up and head home. You eat dinner and tell your parents that you're going back out and over to Caleb's to help him with a project.<br/>
<br/>
As the sun has mostly set you figure now is as good a time as any to get this over and done with. You head into the garage and grab a shovel and when your dad asks why you need that you simply tell him that it's something that requires a lot of digging and Caleb says that with work he's not up for that part. You can hear him sigh but he says nothing more beyond reminding you to be back by curfew. Once you're out the door you waste no time in getting over to the cemetery.<br/>
<br/>
There doesn't seem to be anyone around so you pull your truck in, grab the shovel and a bag and start digging. What follows is work that is long and laborious. Despite the crisp air of the early autumn night you still quickly become hot and sweaty and you begin to mentally curse Caleb as he's out probably having fun with Alex and her friends while you're out here getting aches in muscles you didn't even know existed.<br/>
<br/>
It takes a few hours but you are able to eventually, thankfully, finish as the last of the sandbags is filled and put into the bed. Drenched in sweat, your clothes stick to you making the ride back out to the theater uncomfortable and because of all the work you've been doing it takes a little while longer than you'd thought to move the dirt into theater. You still have about an hour before curfew and you give some thought trying out the next spell but you realize quickly that you're too exhausted to do anything else.<br/>
<br/>
Instead you text Caleb to just take the stuff home with him tonight and you can worry about it some point tomorrow because you're turning in for the night.<br/>
<br/>
Back at home your dad takes one look, and one whiff, at you and tells you to take a shower and throw those clothes in the wash. You're only happy to oblige as you've cooled off by this point and the warm water offers a bit of blessed relief. Once you're done you change into some shorts and a t-shirt you use for lounging and sleeping in, toss what you'd been wearing in the wash, and head up to your room where you promptly flop onto the bed and fall asleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Have fun?" Caleb grins at you the next morning as you meet him in the parking lot at school.<br/>
<br/>
You're still sore from last night so you can only cast a hooded glance at him. "Yeah, it was awesome," you grumble. "I'm sure everything sucked for you."<br/>
<br/>
"It was eventful that's for sure," he replies with a laugh. "I met Alex and them right? We're talking outside for a bit and that Brett guy you hung out with comes rolling up with that Joe dude that you mentioned."<br/>
<br/>
That jolts you awake. "The hell?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess Brett and his buddy were talking about it and Joe overheard. Said he wanted to meet 'Belinda' or something and figured 'she' might be there again," he explains. "Dude must be a horn dog because he was lookin' at me and flashing me a smile an' shit. But Alex I guess really doesn't like him because she and the others didn't even give him a chance."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs but you're still feeling uneasy.<br/>
<br/>
"They just grabbed me and bolted. Told him to fuck off. Alex had some choice words for Brett too for standing her up," he continues. "Doesn't blame Lizzie though for what it's worth."<br/>
<br/>
He continues like this, telling you that they got some food and hung out and that Alex wants to bring Lizzie out to the Warehouse on Friday to really help her make a splash. So it sounds like he had a good time, but you yourself are thrown off. It's starting to feel like you can't take two steps without turning around to find Joe's grinning face waiting for you. Well he's a handsome, popular and seemingly extroverted athlete and apparently can't keep his libido under control so maybe it's not actually all that weird that he's interested in this girl.<br/>
<br/>
But you still can't help but to think that maybe it kind of is.<br/>
<br/>
You try to put it aside though as you open your backpack to show Caleb the mask you made. You tell him that his buffer idea worked like a charm and that with it you should be able to get a mask done within an hour. You also show him the band that you finished. He lets out a low whistle and seems to get excited about the possibilities.<br/>
<br/>
"We can get another pair of tits to mess with," he says gleefully. "Like Jenny or Yumi." He stops and seems to have an epiphany. "No, wait... Jenny <i>and</i> Yumi! We have to seal a mask before putting it on right? So if we got one on both of them before sealing it, maybe that'd, like, combine both of 'em into a new person. Bet you're curious what <i>that'd</i> look like aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
He grins at you and you admit that it does sound interesting. As you head to class you look at different girls and wonder what it'd be like to be them or what it'd look like if their appearances were combined. But what Caleb said about Joe is bothering you as well. He seems to want to meet Lizzie so maybe you should let him meet her so you can finally put this whole thing to rest.</span></div></div>


path: 111211211121133511121331
author_id: masktrixie
title: Hurly-Burly
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You’re still brooding over what to do with the mask when lunchtime rolls around, and you try and think about who you’d want to make a mask from. Strangely, the two people Caleb mentioned – Jenny and Yumi – are both present, and you can’t help but try and check them out a little as you finish your morsel of food. They’re both pretty enough in their own way, and Yumi’s a cheerleader after all, but do you really want to start with your friends? There’s so many better people you could be! Chelsea Cooper immediately jumps to mind, the short, blonde power trip of a cheerleader feared by anyone with half a brain. Or, speaking of brains, wouldn’t it be fun to get into the pants – literally – of Kelsey Blankenship? Or Kim Walsh! Or, thinking of the diminutive Alex Day, maybe another firecracker short-round, like Mia DeWitt, a girl who you’ll see this afternoon and…<br/>
<br/>
Someone waves their hand in front of your face. “Earth to Will. Come in, Will.” Keith smirks. You blink, and look around. Everyone’s staring at you.<br/>
<br/>
“Space out there, buddy?” Caleb says, knowing damn well what you’re probably thinking about.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, sorry,” you say, refocusing. “What we talking about?”<br/>
<br/>
“<i>Cravenmoor</i>,” Keith says. “It’s opening this Friday. I’m up for going, but Caleb’s pussying out. You interested? It’s a horror flick, and ‘tis the spooky season.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s literally October first,” Jenny sighs. “You can’t get spooky until at least the week before Halloween.”<br/>
<br/>
“Says you!” Keith retorts. “I’m already selling pumpkin-spiced latte and donuts with ghosts and ghoulies. C’mon, Will, buddy. What do you say?”<br/>
<br/>
You think for a moment. Caleb’s rejection is because he’s going to the Warehouse. But what if you went to the Warehouse too, incognito? Wouldn’t it be fun to fuck with your friend, get close to him under a mask without him even realizing it? The thought almost brings a smile to your lips, but you manage to play it cool. “Yeah, sure,” you say, nodding indifferently. “<i>Cravenmoor </i>sounds kinda fun.” You kick your leg at Caleb. “C’mon, man. Don’t be lame.”<br/>
<br/>
“I have plans,” Caleb replies, giving you a knowing look. That’s Caleb’s problem – sometimes he’s so smart, he assumes you’re as dumb as Keith. “But you two have fun, huh?”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“You used the mask yet?” Caleb says, meeting up with you late after his shift at Salopek. “Created your Franken-Jenny, or Franken-Yumi, or Jemmi… no, that sounds dumb. Yummy? Ha! Not much better.”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you say, standing over the clod of Earth, checking the book again. “I don’t want to waste it. I was thinking maybe we use it after we find out what this spell does?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, we’ve got our big pile of graveyard dirt doused in fuel,” Caleb says. “Now, according to the book, we just… light this sucker.”<br/>
<br/>
“And burn down the entire theater,” you say, unsure. “What if we can’t control it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Then I guess ‘theater burns down in magic fire’ is going to make the Gazette,” Caleb shrugs. “You’re forgetting, Will, we’re dealing with magic here. You really think a magician would create something dangerous? The worst we’ve had so far is a bad stink.”<br/>
<br/>
“OK, man,” you say with a shrug, touching the flame to the pyre. It goes up almost immediately, a strange flame of brilliant purple dancing across the dirt. You both look at each other, watching the mystical process at work.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb lets out a low whistle. “Well, it hasn’t set anything else on fire.” He leans in, and furrows his brow. “Dude! Stick your hand here!”<br/>
<br/>
You step forward, and follow his instructions, preparing to recoil from the heat… only there isn’t any! It’s completely cold! “What the shit,” you mutter. “That’s cool.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not just cool, it’s cold. Although not endothermic,” Caleb says, talking scientifically for no real reason other than to show off. “Well, according to the book, we keep lighting this sucker every time it goes out. Guess your new job after school is stopping by the theater.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about your job?” you retort. Caleb rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Salopek, remember? Then I really need to do some homework, so that rules out Thursday. And then I get to play Lizzie on Friday, so I guess this purple-ass bonfire’s yours. You can swing back here after you see Wes Craven’s <i>Maw</i> or whatever Keith was talking about.”<br/>
<br/>
“Gee, thanks,” you say. “Speaking of… seeing as how I’m doing all the hard work, you think you can loan me twenty bucks?”<br/>
<br/>
Caleb rolls his eyes and relents. You smile, unwilling to reveal the full extent of your plan for Friday.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
It’s late when you split up, but that’s perfect for your plan. Driving up to Monte Viso’s, the goofy golf-o-rama is empty, with just the bored light of the attendant’s booth shining. You walk up, and give a friendly wave to Roxanne. Wednesdays are apparently one of her usual shifts, and she gives a half-smile of recognition when you stride up.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, got the next batch?” you ask. She sets her kindle down, and gives you a slow, raised eyebrow in return.<br/>
<br/>
“What ‘next batch’?” she sighs. “Alex didn’t say anything about any more of her crap coming here. Look, I’ve got better things to do than act as her private post office. Already got school, plus the delights of this part-time train wreck.”<br/>
<br/>
“Huh,” you say, nodding. “That’s weird, I could have sworn she said…”<br/>
<br/>
“Look,” Roxanne says, smiling. “What Alex says, and what actually happens, are two entirely different things. Shit, you know how she is, with her ‘Guru’ crap. It’s all smoke and mirrors with her. Chances are, if she’s sent you here she’s tagging the shit out of your house right now. Or, more likely, she’s tapped up another one of her friends for a dead drop and sent you to the wrong one. Bet that girl has spraycans in a half dozen places around town.”<br/>
<br/>
You smile, and give a shared laugh of recognition. Having occupied Alex’s mind, Roxanne’s not far off. You look at the girl in the booth: stupid uniform, but her hipster cred shines through, with a short-cut dirty blonde mop of hair over a face that oozes cool. She’s not a stand-out beauty, although her puckered lips and warm cheeks help, but instead has a compelling, androgynous aura about her. “Yeah,” you say. “She probably just got it mixed up. I’ll see her at the Warehouse on Friday.”<br/>
<br/>
“Lucky you,” Roxanne says. “Unfortunately, for me Friday night is a school night. She stands up from the booth, checking her watch, then flicks a switch inside, turning the lights on the minigolf off. “Speaking of which, we are… closed.” She flips the sign on the counter. “Look, I got to count up and lock up. Tell Alex to get her stupid dead drops straight, right?”<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and give a wave as she pulls down the blind to the booth. Then, taking a deep breath, you skulk around to the side door. You feel like you’re robbing the place, although as long as the count is correct – and you trust it will be – there’s going to be no reason for anyone to review the security tapes. Instead, your nerves are because you’re robbing something else. It’s a good 15 minutes before the door opens, and a tired, bored Roxanne begins to step out. You don’t even hesitate. In a second, you slam the mask on her face, then catch her as she slumps, lowering her slowly into the booth. Then, with a sharp, nervy breath, you close the door and wait for the mask to reappear. As expected, the mask reappears soon after. You prop Roxanne up, as if she just slipped, and grab the mask and mind band from her face, heading into the night. The perfect identity heist.<br/>
<br/>
The name floats inside the mask. ROXANNE HURLEY. Huh, no middle name. You bite your lip, wondering how you’ll feel to be this attractive but, more importantly, this cool. From Alex’s memories, you vaguely remembered that the Mutants at her school have classes on a Saturday. So, while the real Roxanne is tucked away in bed, you can use her identity to go partying at the Warehouse. As Roxanne, you’ll have a free pass straight into Alex’s inner circle – and a chance to mess around with ‘Lizzie’ and show Caleb you know how to have a good time, too. On Friday, you’ll bail on Keith for <i>Cravenmoor</i>, then turn up at the Warehouse in the body of the ultimate hipster chick. It’s going to be epic.<br/>
<br/>
But who says you have to wait? Caleb’s busy tomorrow, and seems to expect you to kick around the old theater like some dogsbody, guarding your flaming pile of grave dirt and deciphering the book. Now you’ve got your first real, complete disguise: a face and a mind to go with it. Who says you can’t have a little fun? Hell, you could even forget Caleb altogether. Catherine Muskov is holding a party on Friday night – and with a face like Roxanne Hurley’s, you’re sure you can get in.</span></div></div>


path: 11122
author_id: seuzz
title: Assault on a Romantic Rival
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb's eyes bulge. "Are you crazy? We don't know what will happen!"<br/>
<br/>
"This is my mask, so I get to decide who we'll test it on."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're saying that when I finish my mask, I can decide who we test it on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, technically, we'll have already tested it out by then."<br/>
<br/>
"But I get to decide who we use it on."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. I guess." It sounds like he's leading somewhere, so you're reluctant to commit.<br/>
<br/>
"So if I get my mask finished up before you can use yours on Mansfield, then we can test <i>my</i> mask out on whoever I pick. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself turning very red, and before Caleb can stop you, you've whipped out your iPhone and are looking up Geoff Mansfield's number. You have no idea what you're going to say to him. You only know that you don't want Caleb getting between you and your target. "Hey Geoff," you say when he picks up. "This is Will Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Maybe you should try out for Drama classes, because you feel pretty good about the improvisation you put on for your nemesis. A meeting at the city library has been arranged under the pretext that you need help with your math class. "He must have Good Samaritan syndrome or something," you snort when you hang up. "He says he's willing to meet me there in an hour for a thirty-minute tutorial."<br/>
<br/>
"Mansfield? Good Samaritan?" Caleb rolls his eyes. "No, he just wants to tell Lisa and everyone else about how pathetic you are because you went crawling to him for help."<br/>
<br/>
"If you're trying to talk me out of using Mansfield as a guinea pig, you're not doing a very good job."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I'm not trying to talk you out of anything," Caleb says cheerfully. "I'm waiting to see you screw up. Think about it, you're planning to assault him in a public place with an occult dildo."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a dildo, it's a mask!"<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I mean." He turns on that shit-eating grin. "So how are you going to do it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um -- Okay, how about we try this. You -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Who said I was going to help you?"<br/>
<br/>
You punch him in the chest. "Look, do you want my help when you try out your mask on Richards or whoever? Then you gotta help me."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, fine. Jesus, you're so helpless. What do you need from me?"<br/>
<br/>
After a few minutes of thought, you outline a plan. Caleb says it's stupid, but he also says he'll do it, "Just so you'll see how dumb it is."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
An hour later you're sitting in the upper deck of the Saratoga Falls Municipal Library. You're seated at a table toward the back, where hopefully you can't be seen. In fact, you're so well hidden that ten minutes after your meeting time, an irritated Geoff Mansfield calls you on your cell to demand where you are. He appears a minute later looking vexed and supercilious. "Why back here?" he asks as he sits across from you, facing away from the body of the library. "This is where people go to make out."<br/>
<br/>
His words sting. "What do you know about making out?"<br/>
<br/>
"At least I know this is where people go to make out."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't want to make out with you! I wanted to -- " You inhale and exhale deeply, which helps cool your temper. "Thanks for coming to help me."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm meeting someone here later," he says. "So I was going to be up here anyway. But I only have about twenty minutes." He sets his phone down on the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh? So who are you meeting?"<br/>
<br/>
"None of your business. What do you need help with?"<br/>
<br/>
So you take out your Calculus book and flip to the latest lesson. You feel some slight relief as you do. If Geoff was meeting Lisa, he would have said so, especially if he could have bragged about sitting with her in a "makeout spot."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Unless,</i> your perfidious brain insists on whispering, <i>he really does mean to sit here and make out with her, and just doesn't want you to stick around to mess it up.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So, I could use a little help right here," you say in a rather loud voice, partly to muffle that horrible thought, and partly because that's the signal to Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your voice down," says Mansfield. "This is a library, you know."<br/>
<br/>
You lean forward and point to a spot on the page, and Mansfield bends over it as Caleb appears from the stacks behind him. He hops over lightly on his toes with the mask in both hands. Mansfield apparently hears something at the last possible moment, for he raises up with a frown; but Caleb has reached over and around his head and pressed the mask against his face before he can further react. Mansfield goes pale for just the fraction of a second, his eye roll shut, and he falls forward, slamming his forehead hard against the table.<br/>
<br/>
And you can see all this because the mask at the instant it touched his face had vanished utterly. "Jesus Christ!" you exclaim, then clap a hand over your mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" Caleb says in a softer voice, and drops onto his haunches to stare at Mansfield. You stare at him too, then you and Caleb exchange horrified glances as he doesn't stir. "Hey. Mansfield. Yo. Geoff." Caleb pokes at his cheek, and gets no response. With a grimace he lifts Mansfield's head. That causes his entire body to shift, and he starts to slide under the table. "Will," says Caleb. "Don't let him -- ! Fuck!"<br/>
<br/>
You lunge over the table and only by grabbing hard onto the shoulder of Mansfield's shirt do you stop him slipping onto the floor. You and Caleb push him back onto the table, and huddle close around him.<br/>
<br/>
At least he's breathing, and it's not a troubled breathing either, though it sounds a little shallow and noisy. Geoff's face is also a little pale, though that might just be your imagination. "What happens if he doesn't wake up?" you ask Caleb, and your eyes are probably as saucer-like as his.<br/>
<br/>
"We call a librarian over and she calls 911," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Is this supposed to happen?"<br/>
<br/>
"How the fuck should I know? It's your dumb book."<br/>
<br/>
"It might be normal. How long should we wait?"<br/>
<br/>
"For what? We got no idea what's supposed to happen!"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone's supposed to show up in, like, fifteen minutes," you tell Caleb. "Maybe we should wait until then."<br/>
<br/>
"Or just before," he says. "Dammit, Will, if we'd called Richards out to the school instead -- "<br/>
<br/>
"We'd be in deeper shit," you retort. "How would we explain to the EMTs what we were doing out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you have a point," he grumbles. You both fall silent.<br/>
<br/>
And you stay silent, for there seems nothing else to say as you wait.<br/>
<br/>
And you wait for you know not what.<br/>
<br/>
You find you can't even speculate on what might happen. You turn around and look into the main body of the library, to keep an eye out for whoever might be showing up to meet Geoff. You hope it's not Lisa, for lots of reasons. Aside from not wanting confirmation that he was going to meet her for reasons he didn't want to share with you, you hardly want to be caught next to Mansfield's prone body. Knocking Geoff unconscious -- however gratifying it might be for you personally -- would hardly endear you to her.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb, meanwhile, remains hunched next to Mansfield. So when something finally does happen, he nudges you hard. "Hey, it's back!" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"What's back?" you ask, then get an answer to your question by turning around and leaning in. The mask, which had vanished in that spooky way, has reappeared, wedged between the table and Mansfield's face. Caleb grabs Geoff's hair and lifts his head just enough that you're able to scoot it out. "Get it out of sight," you tell him. "Put it in your bag and get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"What if we need to call the paramedics?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll watch him," you say. "You go get him some water." You poke at your nemesis. "Geoff. Hey. Mansfield." You slap at him lightly, then harder. "Yo. Are you okay?" You shake him by the shoulder, with more and more energy, until, with a groan, he stirs.<br/>
<br/>
"The hell?" Mansfield says, raising his head. He looks like he's slept long and hard, and has been interrupted from a very deep slumber. He blinks stupidly at you. "Prescott?" He sits up with an alarmed expression and looks around. "The hell happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"You just passed out," you say. "All of a sudden. Uh, it was Caleb's fault," you hurriedly add, and cheerfully embroider a lie that you hope will get Mansfield to stop looking at you so darkly. "He spotted us and came over and was playing 'Guess Who' on you, but when he put his hands around your eyes you just, like, face-planted. He ran off to get you some water," you add as Mansfield covers his forehead -- where a bruise has begun to spread -- with his palm.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The upshot is that you get away with the mask while leaving a confused and surly Geoff Mansfield behind, and you get away before his other rendezvous is set to start. But you're still sitting outside in your truck, getting ready to drive off. So when a sudden impulse of curiosity comes over you -- <i>Who is he meeting?</i> -- you're in a position to satisfy it.</span></div></div>


