# chapters

path: 11121113211222221222222122121123
author_id: seuzz
title: Putting on Paulina
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're going to need another mask, no matter what direction you move in, so you drive out to your old neighborhood. Caleb isn't at the community center, and you almost call him so he can come out and keep you company—and maybe do a little of the work for you—but you decide to leave him out of it. He'd probably just yell at you for wanting to make another jump.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, you decide not to tell him what you're doing. Let him think that you made a jump directly into— Well, into whoever you decide to make the jump into.<br/>
<br/>
And that means there's going to be a fourth victim of this mask madness. Gordon into your life, Dane into Gordon's, Evie into Dane's, and someone else into Evie's. You better make this next one count, you tell yourself firmly.<br/>
<br/>
So you give it a lot of thought as you make and polish up another mask with the car buffer. And when you get to the end of it, you have settled on Paulina Nowack.<br/>
<br/>
Evie helps you make the decision. Is it too strong to say that Evie has a schoolgirl crush on Paulina? Yeah, probably. But she's definitely in awe of her friend, who is tall and strong-willed and who as a young child moved to a strange country (which is something that would probably kill you if you tried it) and totally thrived. You feel yourself wishing you had the same confidence and poise, and if it's Evie who is doing the actually wishing, well, hey, maybe she's just helping you feel it more strongly.<br/>
<br/>
But where Evie couldn't do anything to be more like Paulina, you can. More than that. You can <i>become</i> Paulina.<br/>
<br/>
After finishing the mask, you make the raw metal band for copying Andrew's brain before packing up everything you'll need for the ambush. Then you go home and spend the evening carving runes into the metal band and affixing it to the mask.<br/>
<br/>
You also take along Chen's drug drop, to hide in Dane's car in the morning so the real Evie won't be in so much trouble with Chen and Dane's cousin.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You set up the ambush the next day in third-period English, the only class that Evie and Paulina actually share. It takes a little bit of pleading, and you have to hint that there's an extra, unspoken reason behind the shopping trip, but Paulina eventually agrees to meet you up at Nirdlinger's Department Store after school. It's a nice coincidence: Evie's mom has tasked you with buying her daughter some new underthings anyway.<br/>
<br/>
You beat Paulina out there and are lurking in the shoe department when she comes in. She doesn't speak to you, though, even though she glances directly at you as she passes, because you have pulled off Evie's mask (and are dressed in a cheap t-shirt and shorts combo) so as to catch her by surprise. You have Evie's phone, though, and when to your annoyance Paulina only impatiently browses the floor without taking anything back to the changing rooms, you text her to say that you're running late and to start picking stuff out without you. Paulina (you notice) snorts as she reads the text, and it's still a good twenty minutes before—possibly out of boredom—she takes a blouse back to the changing rooms.<br/>
<br/>
You lurk just outside her stall, pretending to be absorbed in your phone, until the door opens. Just as Paulina emerges, you swing in front of her and jam the mask at her face. She squawks and falls backward, dragging you back the stall as you catch her. You're jarred hard as the two of you collapse against the back wall, and sink together to the floor. Frantically, you drag Evie's bag in with you and kick the stall door shut with a bang.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart beating hard as you crouch over Paulina to unbutton her clothes. She's dressed in a light cotton blouse and a gray skirt, with checkerboard stockings up to her knees and Converse sneakers on her feet. Her long, brunette hair is done up into braids with pins and ties that take forever to find and remove. At least she's not wearing any jewelry.<br/>
<br/>
But you have just got her peeled down to her skin when the mask comes out of her. You scoop her things into her purse, dump Evie's clothes out next to her, then bend over her to settle Evie's mask onto her face. It sinks instantly into her, and then it's Evie Cummings sprawled on the floor. Carrying Paulina's purse and all her things in the crook of your arm like a football, you scurry out of Nirdlinger's and into the parking lot. You still have the echo of Evie's memories, so you are able to recognize Paulina's old family sedan and drive it out of the lot and down a couple of blocks to a small strip center, where you park in back where you can't be easily seen.<br/>
<br/>
Only then do you pull out Paulina's things, including the mask, and arrange them on the car seat next to you.<br/>
<br/>
Clothes and mask: All that you'll need for your next—and hopefully last—alias.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're woken by a tickle on the side of your nose. Your eyes still clenched shut, you brush at it. The tickle flies away, buzzing as it goes.<br/>
<br/>
You make a face and wrench your eyes open. You're wedged inside your car behind the steering wheel with the warm sun pouring in. You glance around in puzzlement and find you're parked in a small, shabby parking lot between a brick wall and the grubby backside of a shopping strip. You straighten up, and that's when you discover that you're naked.<br/>
<br/>
The memories fall like a hammer blow to the head. You rest your forehead on the steering wheel as they overwhelm you: the mixed memories of Will Prescott and Paulina Nowack. When the wave of vertigo passes, you raise your head again and find each set neatly sorted into its own network. <i>I'm Will Prescott, you tell yourself, but I answer to the name Paulina Nowack,</i> you add with just a touch of smugness.<br/>
<br/>
You touch and lift your right breast and smile down at the brown tip. The breast itself is small and pointed—shaped a bit too much like a banana—but it is definitely female. As for the bush between your legs, you seek it out with your hand and pull and probe gently at its stiff, hairy coils. It's a little disconcerting at first to find that there's nothing inside it. But when a fingertip brushes a slit, you get a twinge and a reminder that there most definitely is something inside it, only it's way deeper inside.<br/>
<br/>
You pull you hair back and adjust the rearview mirror to study your new face. Your mouth settles naturally into a prim little smile as you lock onto the large, brown eyes that stare back at you. Your face is a little pale and narrow. But the nose is bold and so is your stare. You rake long fingers through your hair as you acclimate yourself to your new face and form. <i>I'm Paulina Nowack,</i> you muse to yourself. <i>I'm Paulina Nowack and I'm a sophomore at Westside High. I play on the girls' junior varsity basketball squad and I'm taking AP classes, and maybe I'm not the most popular girl in the sophomore class, but I've got lots of friends and more than that I'm—<br/>
<br/>
Crap!</i> You scramble for your phone. It's almost five-thirty. <i>I'm going to be late getting home!</i><br/>
<br/>
Quickly you button yourself up inside your clothes. But your hair is a mess as you bounce out of the parking lot and hurl yourself onto the boulevard. All the way home you cuss yourself under your breath for being so stupidly careless. <br/>
<br/>
And only as you're turning into the driveway do you realize you were cursing yourself in Polish.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>He's being a jerk. Call him on his bullshit. You can do better than him anyway.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your thumbs fly over the screen of your cell phone as you blast cannonballs of advice to Melanie Heath. Her boyfriend's being a dickhead again, and there's no reason for her to put up with it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>This is nice,</i> you have to admit. You're propped up on the lime-green coverlet of your bed, a history book open in your lap as you text your friends. (In addition to Melanie, you've got a screen open with Lindsay Cho, and with the flick of a thumb you can return to Instagram where you were hate-viewing the latest updates from Madison Crawford. But you've only got ten minutes before the timer goes off, when you'll have to dive back into your studies for the next forty-minute study session you've budgeted yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, Paulina has weird study habits. She chops up her homework time like they were periods in the school day.<br/>
<br/>
Melanie isn't answering, but you keep bombarding her. <i>Two can flirt,</i> you remind her. <i>Hit a party this weekend. Something wild. Find a guy and get sloppy with him.</i><br/>
<br/>
You're still waiting for Melanie to reply when Lindsay interrupts with a curveball: <i>Melanie wants to know if its ok for her to go out with Bhodi.</i><br/>
<br/>
You blink once, then almost fly off the bed. <i>NO!</i> you quickly shoot back. <i>Wtf? Is she texting you too?</i> Your thumbs tremble. Melanie can't mean it, she's at Eastman, and besides she <i>knows</i> that you're serious about Bhodi! The thought <i>She better be pulling my chain!</i> wrestles with the thought, <i>Dude, chill, you're not really Paulina.<br/>
<br/>
Did you tell her to dump Tyler?</i> Lindsay asks. "Pah!" you yell at the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
Before you can reply, though, there's a hard thump at the door. You've just wit enough to thrust your phone under the coverlet before the door flies open.<br/>
<br/>
But it's not your mom, as you expected. With eyes blazing and hair flying, Evie Cummings leaps into the room. You squawk as she jumps at you and pins you to the bed.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211231
author_id: seuzz
title: Dane's Destiny
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Evie Cummings pins you by the shoulders and pushes her face into yours. Her eyes are pools of fire, and her long, dirty-blonde hair drapes over your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?" she growls at you from the back of her throat. "Who the <i>freak</i> are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Evie!" you croak. "Get off me!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not Evie, and you know it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Evie, get off! Or I'm gonna—!"<br/>
<br/>
She slugs you in the side of the head. You gasp, and tears spring into your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Off the bed she jumps to slam the bedroom door shut. You scramble back as she leaps for the dresser.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, you!" she snarls as she digs inside the top drawer. "I'm gonna tear that stupid, freaking, fake face off you if you don't tell me who you are and—!"<br/>
<br/>
She whips around and brandishes a steel nail file at you. You almost shit yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"And I don't care what happens to me," she snarls, lapsing into Polish. "But I will <i>stab out your eyeballs</i> and then <i>stab you in the brain</i> if you don't—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright!" You cower behind upraised hands. "Jesus, just calm down!"<br/>
<br/>
She shows her teeth, and advances one menacing step on you.<br/>
<br/>
She's not making idle threats. Paulina's own mind and personality are inside yours, and you know perfectly well that she means every word she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Paulina," you croak. "Paulina," you repeat, so she'll recognize that you're not going to bullshit her. "Just don't do anything stupid."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes narrow. "Who are you?" she hisses.<br/>
<br/>
You feel your lips twitch. <i>Could you bluff her?</i> "Who do you <i>think</i> I am, Paulina?" you tease.<br/>
<br/>
She stares. Then her eyes flash and she raises that nail file. "You're not Evie, I know that!" she spits. "Evie would never—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, alright!" Bluffing's a bad idea, you decide. "You're right, I'm not Evie."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of a ... <i>monster—</i>?" Her expression twists up with loathing and fear.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not a monster! I'm just a guy! I go to school with you, even! You don't know me, but—!"<br/>
<br/>
"So who are you?" She raises the nail file over her head. For half a second you weigh your chances in a fight, then surrender.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, you don't know me," you tell her. "I'm up in the senior class. I'm on the run. I'm hiding."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Hiding?"</i> Evie shrieks.<br/>
<br/>
Footsteps sound in the hall, and there's a knock at the door. "You okay in there, girls?" Paulina's mother calls. Her Polish accent sounds heavily.<br/>
<br/>
Evie pales, but raises a stiff forefinger in warning at you. "We're fine, mom," you call back. Evie's expression falls. "We're just talking!"<br/>
<br/>
There's a silence from the other side of the door. "No talking," your mom says in a doubtful tone. "Studying."<br/>
<br/>
"We are! Evie's helping me!" You grin weakly at the other girl, whose eyes narrow with suspicion. "Keep your voice down," you urge her after footsteps retreat from the door. "You don't want your mom busting in on us."<br/>
<br/>
"Then talk!" Evie retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Just put the nail file down! And promise me you won't pick it up until after I explain everything."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You could just take off the mask to show her, but if anything would make Paulina Nowack explode, it would be the sight of your hairy male body apparating inside her clothes. Instead, you hurriedly give her your name and story, and go online to show her the few social media posts you've made over the years, while assuring her that you can prove your real identity by pulling your magical disguise off.<br/>
<br/>
She listens to all this with an angry frown, interjecting only a few curt questions here and there. And she's silent (to your surprise) when you conclude, with a sigh, "I guess you want to switch back now."<br/>
<br/>
She's leaning against the dresser with folded arms (but is still clenching that nail file in one fist) and glaring at you. "We can switch back," you repeat. "I can take off this mask I'm wearing, and take the mask off you. Then I can go back to Evie's house, and you can— Oh," you interrupt yourself. "I guess you want me to put Evie back, too."<br/>
<br/>
But still she doesn't answer, and only stares at you from under a reddening brow. "What?" you bluster when the silence has gotten very awkward.<br/>
<br/>
She draws and exhales a deep breath before answering. "Can you make more of these mask things?"<br/>
<br/>
The question staggers you, but you don't challenge it. "Yes," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, show me how to take mine off. But don't—" she adds as you start to get off the bed. "Don't actually take it off. Just tell me how."<br/>
<br/>
"I have to show you how to hold your hand."<br/>
<br/>
"Show it on your own face. Okay," she says after you've obliged. "Where did you say Evie is?" You give her Dane Matthias's name again, and directions to his house as best you can remember.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll see you tomorrow," she says as she moves toward the door. "You're going to stick around," she says, saying it like it's an order and not a question. "You're not going to jump around someplace else."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd have to make another mask first."<br/>
<br/>
"Then don't," she spits. "Not till I tell you to."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Until she tells you to?</i> The order leaves you gaping, and she strides out the bedroom before you can ask what she means by it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You give some thought to contacting Caleb—you haven't told him yet that you've made any of these jumps since leaving Dane's mask behind—but decide not to. Even if he agreed to help you out, he'd yell at you first for getting yourself into so much trouble.<br/>
<br/>
You're killing time in front of the drama wing the next morning, talking with Lindsay Cho about your mutual friend Melanie Heath when Evie Cummings come running up. Her eyes are shining with a feverish light.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God, Paulina!" she gasps. "You have to come with me!"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Instinctively you bat her away as she clutches at your arm. Then you pale when you remember that you're not Paulina, and that the real Paulina might get pissed at you for slapping back at her.<br/>
<br/>
"I want you to meet someone!" Evie says.<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
She goes up on tiptoes to whisper loudly in your ear. "A guy!"<br/>
<br/>
Alarm bells go off. What happened since you and her parted last night? Has she forgotten who she really is? This girl with you now isn't the pissed-off queen-bee who cornered you in her room and threatened to stab you through the eye. With her wide-eyed stare, her breathless excitement, her twitchy enthusiasm and her squirmy impatience, she is ... Evie Cummings.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Must be the real girl,</i> you cautiously decide. Paulina must have taken the mask off her.<br/>
<br/>
But you're doubtful. Evie—the real girl—shouldn't be even this enthusiastic to see you, the guy who shoved her into the hairy body and horrible life of Dane Matthias.<br/>
<br/>
"What guy?" you demand. "The hell, Evie?"<br/>
<br/>
Lindsay smirks at you. "Don't you want to meet a guy?"<br/>
<br/>
You shoot her a hot glare. "I don't wanna just go running off—"<br/>
<br/>
"Please!" Evie begs, and grabs at your arm again. "Before first bell!"<br/>
<br/>
"I think we better go see him." Lindsay's smirk widens, and she takes your other arm.<br/>
<br/>
"Guys, let go! I'm not—!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, Lindsay!" Evie shrieks. "Just me and Paulina!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with—?"<br/>
<br/>
Evie hops up to your ear again. "Second period!" she hisses. "Skip second, meet me here! You <i>freak!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself paling. "Okay, I'll meet you later! Just not now, I've got to get to class!"<br/>
<br/>
"We got five minutes before the bell," Lindsay reminds you.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna fight about it!" Now you're scared. "Come on, let's just go in."<br/>
<br/>
"Meet me!" Evie calls out as you back away. "You better—!"<br/>
<br/>
"I will! Jeez!"<br/>
<br/>
Lindsay follows you in. "Must be a really special guy," she says, sounding really smug.<br/>
<br/>
"I bet he is," you retort. You say it sarcastically, but you're pretty sure he is special. Because you're pretty sure he's going to turn out to be Dane Matthias.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So it is, as you confirm when you rendezvous with him and Evie in front of the theater at the start of second period. You have the small quad all to yourselves, but you keep  your voices low.<br/>
<br/>
"We have to get Evie out of that thing," growls the girl who looks like Evie Cummings. "Today. Like, this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"So take it off her," you reply. You glance at Dane, who looks pale and sickly. From the way he's standing, you have the impression he is trying very hard not to touch himself anyplace. "I showed you how."<br/>
<br/>
"It's more complicated than that," not-Evie continues. "Tomorrow, Dane here is being packed off to a military school in Oregon."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" You feel your eyes nearly bugging from your head. Not-Dane swallows.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. So here's what I want," not-Evie says. She ticks off her fingers. "We take these masks off. I go back to being me, and she goes back to being her. But <i>you,</i> you <i>freak,</i> get to be one of my friends!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Huh?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Okay, not one of my friends," not-Evie corrects herself. "But you get to be some other girl, and <i>she</i> gets to be packed off to military school!"<br/>
<br/>
As you gape, confused and uncomprehending, she rattles off four names (which you recognize as girls that Paulina Nowack cordially dislikes), and grimly demands that you pick one as your new and permanent alias.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112311
author_id: seuzz
title: Mad for Madison
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Whoa whoa whoa!" you tell not-Evie. "Time out! What's all this about military school?"<br/>
<br/>
She shoots not-Dane, who's silently standing nearby, a quick, angry look before answering.<br/>
<br/>
"It's this Dane guy's cousin," she says. "He's all pissed off at Dane because he messed something up. So he set it up with Dane's mom to send Dane off to some military school out in Oregon, and he's supposed to be leaving tomorrow. That's how come we need to—<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," she interrupts herself, and her expression turns shrewd. "Don't you know all this? Didn't you tell me you were hiding out as—" She jerks her thumb at not-Dane.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I was," you admit, "but I didn't know about any military school. All that must'a happened after I, uh—" You wince, and avoid looking not-Dane in the eye.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we need to get Evie out of there," not-Evie resumes. "And unless <i>you</i> want to go off to high school boot camp—" She jabs you in the breastbone with a sharp forefinger. "We need to find someone else to be Dane!"<br/>
<br/>
You scratch your nose. You're more than a little freaked out at seeing someone who looks like Evie Cummings—who is a sweet and rather shy girl—honking at you like an angry goose. But beyond that, you're also confused as to why Paulina <i>isn't</i> trying to throw you back into Dane's life, but is talking instead about making <i>another</i> switch. "So who do you want to stick in for her?" you ask, trying to buy yourself some time.<br/>
<br/>
"Madison Crawford," not-Evie says, and she sounds very tired as she again rattles off that list of names. "Courtenay Blessing. Amber Hartsell. Or, um, Alice Meehan." She looks at not-Dane for confirmation, but not-Dane says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"Why one of them? No, wait, never mind. I'm not gonna worry about that. Your idea, if I get it," you continue as not-Evie frowns at you, "is that one of them goes in for Dane. And Evie ...?"<br/>
<br/>
"She gets her life back and I get mine back. Then <i>you</i>—" Again she pokes you in the breastbone with a sharp fingernail, "You turn yourself whoever it is that you turn into Dane here."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he doesn't want to be a girl," not-Dane murmurs, but not-Evie shuts her up with a quick glare. "That's the rule," not-Evie says.<br/>
<br/>
You could argue, and part of you wants to. But the larger part of you decides that you can live with what Paulina is suggesting. It's either that, or you get sent to military school in the body of Dane Mathias.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," you tell her. "This afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
"This afternoon what?" not-Evie says, and for the first time she looks wrongfooted.<br/>
<br/>
"This afternoon we do the thing. With you and Evie and me and ... whoever." You gesture at Dane. "Switch masks around."<br/>
<br/>
Not-Evie stares. Then her eyes narrow. "What are you up to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing! I'm going along with you! It's okay with me, I don't care who I have to be, as long as I'm not Dane here. And some of those girls, you know." You jerk your shoulders in a shrug. "I can live with being one of them."<br/>
<br/>
Not-Evie stares, and you think you can detect a subtle shade of green stealing over her features. She is truculent and suspicious as you negotiate the details of the swap, and you're sure that she's expecting a trick or a double-cross from you. But you settle the plan as best you can—for you've not yet picked a new identity for yourself—and part for the rest of the day.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Trouble is, you don't have that long to decide. Whatever trap you're going to set, you need to set it up by the end of the school day.<br/>
<br/>
So your first thought is to target Alice Meehan, who you at least share basketball practice with. But of the four girls Paulina named, she would be at the bottom of your list. She's plain, tomboyish, a little goofy, and still has braces. The only thing she has in common with the other three girls that got named is that Paulina doesn't like her.<br/>
<br/>
And that's the quality that, sooner rather than later, leads you to pick Madison Crawford. Whatever is going on with Paulina—and despite having Paulina's brain nestled inside yours, you can't figure out what she's thinking—if she's offering you the lives and identities of girls she doesn't like, she would probably want you picking the one she hates the most.<br/>
<br/>
The trouble is, because Paulina detests Madison and Madison apparently doesn't care for Paulina, it's going to be tricky to lure her out to Dane's trailer.<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, Paulina's brain <i>is</i> helpful there, and by the end of the day you've made the arrangements and texted not-Evie the details of how it will work. Not-Evie's curt reply (<i>Great</i>) cements the plan.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a little after eight o'clock when you pull up in front of Madison's house. You would text to tell her you're here, but you don't have her number. Instead, you saunter up the front walk to the porch and ring the bell.<br/>
<br/>
Her mother answers and lets you in, and you idle a couple of minutes in the foyer after Mrs. Crawford calls upstairs to her daughter, and you feel your irritation sparking into real anger before Madison comes traipsing down. <i>It's like she thinks I'm the boy and I'm picking her up for a date. Oh wait. That's almost exactly what it is, except she doesn't know it.</i> That thought cools most of your anger, and you managed to wrench a smile onto your face when Madison appears. You just catch yourself from telling her that she looks nice.<br/>
<br/>
"Have you picked up Ethan yet?" Madison asks without preamble.<br/>
<br/>
"No. He's our next stop. Hey, Madison, how you doing tonight?" You can't keep the glower from off your face as Madison returns you a quick, impatient look.<br/>
<br/>
"Who else do we have to pick up on the way?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"My friend Evie. She's on the soccer team?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. She can ride shotgun. Me and Ethan'll take the back."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Of course you will,</i> you think as you follow her out into the warm evening air. <i>Ethan Clayborne's the only reason you're letting me pick you up.</i> "You can ride up front with me until we get to his place," you tell her as she starts to get in the back.<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay, I like pretending I have a chauffeur."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes as you cross around to the driver's side, and glare balefully at her reflection in the rear view mirror after you're behind the wheel. But Madison's got her face turned down to the screen of her cell phone, and doesn't see you.<br/>
<br/>
She ignores you the whole drive out, but you're highly conscious of her sitting directly behind you. That's the kind of hatred that Paulina feels for Madison Crawford—and the kind of lust you feel yourself fighting down.<br/>
<br/>
Madison Crawford is going to be a cheerleader. She's going to be head cheerleader. She's hasn't <i>announced</i> that intention over the school intercom or anything. But everyone knows that's where she's headed and that's what she wants. She's a small girl, trim and compact, with a taut butt, strong thighs and calves, and boobs that part of you (Paulina) wishes were enhanced with tissue paper and that the other part of you (yourself) is relieved to know are completely real. She has soft, tawny hair that floats back in feathery waves over her ears and behind her shoulders. Her face is small with big eyes, and there are dimples in her chipmunk cheeks. All of this she has tonight packaged up in a jeans skirt, hose and tennis shoes, and a waist-hugging pink sweater.<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't the way to Ethan's," she protests when you're almost to Dane's trailer park.<br/>
<br/>
"It's the way to where we have to pick him up," you tell her. "He's at a— Oh, didn't I tell you there's another guy we have to pick up? I guess he's going to have to share the back seat with you." You can't help preening a little in the disappointed silence that follows.<br/>
<br/>
Madison doesn't get out after you've parked in front of Dane's, and you have to tap at her window before she hops out. She huffs lightly as she does, and pointedly ignores you as she pushes past you. The urge to grab her from behind and fondle her boobs fights with your urge to claw her eyes out.<br/>
<br/>
"Whose place is this?" she asks as she fetches up at the trailer door. She holds back to let you up to knock.<br/>
<br/>
"A friend of Ethan's. I think. He's a senior." Madison chews on this as you rap at the door. Almost instantly it is flung open. You gasp and start, but it's only Dane.<br/>
<br/>
Well, <i>not-Dane.</i> "Hey, you must be Madison," he says. "And, uh, Paulina."<br/>
<br/>
"Is Ethan here?" Madison asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Be polite, go inside," you growl. You push at her, but it's like her feet are nailed to the stoop. She resists the first few prods, then lets go and tumbles inside. You follow.<br/>
<br/>
The inside of the trailer is the same musty, ramshackle mess you remember it being: broken couches and chairs, dirty dishes everywhere. Madison sniffs and tugs at her nose. <i>You don't have to get used to it,</i> you want to jeer at her. <i>Twenty-four hours from now you'll be in a barracks on the other side of the country.</i> "Is Ethan in the back?" you ask not-Dane.<br/>
<br/>
But he doesn't answer. Instead, he grabs Madison from behind. She gasps.<br/>
<br/>
And that's all she has time to do before you pull out the blank mask you spent all afternoon making and shove it into her face.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121123111
author_id: seuzz
title: Switches in Time
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>I should give Madison's mask to Paulina. She probably wants it but just doesn't want to say so.</i><br/>
<br/>
The thought pops into your head, but just as quickly evaporates. You did all the work to get Madison out here. You should be the one to collect the reward.<br/>
<br/>
And Madison Crawford's body would be quite the reward!<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you going?" you demand as not-Dane pulls your victim's torso in one direction while you pull her legs in another.<br/>
<br/>
"We should take her out to the car," he says. "Dane's cousin'll be over here any minute!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, we need to do the thing in here!" you insist. "If we do it out in the car, how are we gonna get her back in here?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on?" That's not-Evie, running in to join you from the back of the trailer. She frowns as you and not-Dane argue about where to drop Madison. But she soon cuts it short. "Just do what whatsisname says," she tells not-Dane. "He's the expert."<br/>
<br/>
So you carry Madison—who's a lot heavier than she looks like she should be—back into Dane's bedroom. But your two co-conspirators slap you away when you start to undress her, and tell you to wait in the car. "We've been practicing that all night," not-Evie says when you offer to stay at least long enough to get Dane's mask off Evie. "We can handle it, just get out of here!"<br/>
<br/>
Their anxiety must be contagious, for you twist and fidget as you wait in the car for them to come out, and every time you see headlamps in the rearview mirror your heart leaps into your throat in fear that it will be Dane's psychotic, drug-pushing cousin turning into the trailer park. You only have to wait ten minutes or so, but it feels like an agonizing hour before two dark shapes—both of them looking like Evie Cummings—come flying out of the trailer and bundle into the back seat of the car. One of them has a flimsy towel wrapped around her.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's get out of here!" the clothed Evie yells, but you've already got the motor running, and inside half a minute you're racing down the nearest boulevard back toward the neighborhood where the girls live.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God," one of the Evies moans after you're away. "Oh God, I don't want to go through that again! Oh my God!"<br/>
<br/>
"Better Madison than you!" the other Evie retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I meant getting out of there in time. I think my heart's about to explode!"<br/>
<br/>
"Jeez, yes," the other Evie agrees. "Hey you!" She pokes in the back of your head. "Where are we going?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Someplace to finish changing masks around."<br/>
<br/>
"Go up to Redway Plaza. We can park in back up there."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Behind the deli,</i> you realize, relying on Paulina's knowledge of her parents' business. You turn left at the next light.<br/>
<br/>
Paulina herself pulls Evie's mask off during the drive, so you've just the restored Evie for company when you pull into the dark, abandoned spaces behind Redway Plaza. "Do you want me to wait until Paulina wakes up before I, you know, change?" you ask Evie, who is just a dark silhouette against a darker background in the back seat. "'Cos I'm gonna have to strip."<br/>
<br/>
"I can wake her up now," Evie replies. "She woke me up back at that guy's trailer, after she got the mask off me." But she makes no move toward doing so.<br/>
<br/>
"That guy's name was Dane."<br/>
<br/>
"I know his name," she snaps.<br/>
<br/>
Still she doesn't move, even as the conversation (such as it is) lapses. "Look, I'm sorry about all this," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"Paulina told me you got in trouble," she says after a pause. "She said that's how come you're doing this stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sort of."<br/>
<br/>
"She said someone was trying to kill you."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace into the dark. It seems so long ago when Gordon Black hauled you out to the portables to punch your face in for sassing his girlfriend. You should have just taken your medicine.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's an exaggeration. Someone was going to beat the crap out of me is all. So I had this mask with me"—you find yourself reluctant to mention Caleb, who <i>still</i> doesn't know where you are or what's going on with you—"and I used that to get out of it. Things just kind of got out of control after that."<br/>
<br/>
"You can't put things back to normal?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not if Dane's going off to a military school in Oregon."<br/>
<br/>
The conversation lapses again. You listen to the swish and rumble of traffic racing along the nearby boulevard.<br/>
<br/>
"Why did you pick Madison?" Evie asks. "You know. To, uh, be."<br/>
<br/>
"She seemed like a good choice."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't want to be a guy again? You could have argued Paulina into letting you."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think she would have. She really wanted— I mean, I <i>think</i> she really wanted me to be one of those girls. Madison or one of the others."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't answer right away. You get that feeling again that Paulina really wanted you to stay on being her while she got to be Madison or one of those other girls.<br/>
<br/>
"Because she doesn't like them," you eventually say. "I think she really wanted to— Well, to send them out of town." You feel a film of sweat break out across your forehead as the reality of what you've just done to Madison sinks in. "And I wanted to go along with it because I want all us to be friends," you add. "You and me and Paulina."<br/>
<br/>
"It's funny you saying that," Evie says after another pause. "You and me and Paulina being friends, with you looking and sounding just like her."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry. Maybe I— Well, maybe I should go ahead and change now. Except I need to finish working on that mask we made of Madison." You start to unpack the rest of what you need to seal up the mask, and Evie hands you the mask from the back seat.<br/>
<br/>
Paulina groans while you're peeling off your clothes, and after she's awake and oriented, you pass them over to her in the back seat. You're chilly as you settle low into the front seat, and you pull your knees up as you lay a palm across your forehead. The last thing you feel, before you tear Paulina's face away from yours, is your boobs slumping and parting and prickling in the cold.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You grumble and growl when you wake, for you're cold and goose-bumpy all over, and you've got a migraine behind your right eye. You sit up and squint around, but it's dark and you can't see a thing. <i>The freak?</i> you wonder. Your ears feel plugged up, and you yawn and work your jaw to try opening them.<br/>
<br/>
They pop, and you yelp, for at the same moment two sets of memories slide into place and click together, like separate but complementary Lego sculptures.<br/>
<br/>
You twist around to look into the back seat, but Paulina and Evie are gone. <i>Good!</i> comes the spiteful thought. At the same time: <i>Where the fuck did they get off to?</i> You pull your feathery blonde hair back from your face, throwing it behind your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
Because they put you into Madison's mask while you were knocked out.<br/>
<br/>
Quickly you dress yourself, with one part of your mind alertly speculating on where Evie and Paulina have got off to, while another part closely observes the prickle of silky skin as you slide on panties and wrap a skirt around your hips; strap on a bra and tuck bulging boobs into it; pull hose up over your calves and thighs, and yank a tight sweater down over your torso. You feel in the dark for earrings, and when you can't find them you decide that Paulina or Evie must still have them.<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting on the hood of the car, tying the laces of a new pair of sneakers, when a door opens in the nearby strip center and two figures come out. One of them pauses to lock the door with a click; distantly, you hear the chirp of an alarm resetting itself. "Oh, you're awake," a voice says. It's Evie. "Want something to eat?" A foil-wrapped package is held out to you.<br/>
<br/>
"No thanks," you sniff as you stand up. "Have you got the rest of my things?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're in Madison's purse," says Paulina, and you do a double-take at the way she now towers over you. Even Evie is a shade taller than you are. "And we need to talk."<br/>
<br/>
"About what? I'm late for a homework party, you know?" You open the door to the back seat, where you find a white and silver purse—so tiny it is hardly bigger than a softball—with its long, spaghetti-thin strap coiled about it.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not actually going to that party, are you, Will?" Paulina says. (She sounds a little uncertain about your name.) "That was just bait for Madison."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, and it caught her. But they're expecting her out there. They're expecting Ethan too, and we're really late picking him up."<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" You start at Paulina's sharp tone. "Stop it. We need to talk."<br/>
<br/>
"What about?" <i>Dang it,</i> you grouse to yourself as your hair floats about your ears and temples. <i>I'm such a mess!</i><br/>
<br/>
"You're not Madison, Will. Remember that. You don't have to act like her. So stop it."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh again. "If I'm going to <i>be</i> Madison, I sure as hell had better act at least a little bit like her!"<br/>
<br/>
"No you're not and no you won't." Again you start, now both at Paulina's tone and at what she's said. "I didn't ask you turn yourself into Madison so you could act just like her. I could've just left her where she was if I wanted that!"<br/>
<br/>
"So what were you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I want you to ruin her life, Will," Paulina says, and there's a smirk in her voice. "I want you to ruin it. And I've got it all planned out for how you're going to do it."</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211231112
author_id: seuzz
title: It's a Mad Mad Mad Madison World
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What are you talking about?" you demand. <i>Ruin Madison's life?</i> You can hardly believe your ears.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you to stop it, Will," Paulina repeats. "You're not Madison, you're—"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I know who I am," you retort, "but who the hell are you to tell me what I have to do?"<br/>
<br/>
It is very dark behind the strip center, and the lone street blazing whitely up the block blinds rather than illuminates. But you can make out the pinched frown on Paulina's face.<br/>
<br/>
"I've been waiting a long time to get back at Madison Crawford," she says. "And now that I've got a chance—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not Madison Crawford, remember? Besides, you <i>did</i> get back at her. She's freaking out now, in some guy's hairy body in a trashed-out trailer park, and tomorrow she's going to be shipped off to boot camp. So you've fucked up <i>her</i> life already, so how about you just let <i>me</i> alone? Madison's gone, you and Evie have your lives back. What makes you think I owe you anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
Paulina stares at you. Then she whirls and stalks off. After an awkward moment, Evie trots off after  her.<br/>
<br/>
And because it's Paulina's car and she's got the keys, this leaves you in a very bad spot.<br/>
<br/>
"Paulina!" you call after her. "Paulina, come on!" You dash off after her and catch her by the arm. She wrenches herself free, but at least she doesn't snarl at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, I'm sorry I yelled at you like that," you say. "You just surprised me, is all. It's just— Look, it's not like you're hurting Madison when you say you want to— Okay, what do you mean by you want me to 'ruin' Madison's life?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel rather than see the glare on her face. But she doesn't answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Paulina, I know I fucked things up for you and Evie, but we put it all back. And I was telling her in the car just now that I want us all to be friends. Why <i>can't</i> we be friends? You and me and her and ... You know. Madison?" You hop lightly on the balls of your feet. "With me like this you can be friends with her, and with her friends, you know? Evie too. That homework party that I— That <i>Madison's</i> supposed to be at, you're supposed to be at it too! What do you say?" You pluck at her sleeve. "Come on. You'd fit in perfect."<br/>
<br/>
That's a lie. But Madison's confidence is surging through you, so it doesn't matter.<br/>
<br/>
Paulina is breathing very heavily, and she seems to be struggling to come back with an answer. Finally, with a jerk of her shoulders she turns back to the car.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll take you to the party," she says, "and we'll talk tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Great!" you exclaim. "We can hang out! What lunch have you got?"<br/>
<br/>
But Paulina doesn't answer, and before you can press it you feel Evie tugging and pinching at your arm. So you shut up and just follow her back to the car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Sorry we're late," you tell Ethan when you meet him on the walkway leading up to his house. You lean to whisper in his ear. "Not my fault!"<br/>
<br/>
His hair tickles your nose, and you almost cum in your panties.<br/>
<br/>
That's because Ethan Clayborne is a hunk. He's only a sophomore, and he's not even very tall. But he's already a hunk. Madison gets wet just thinking about him.<br/>
<br/>
He's a wrestler, and he's been wrestling since he was in middle school, and he's got body that was already built for it (his brother and father were wrestlers too) so he's got strong muscles all over his lean frame; and he prowls rather than walks, with a swaggering bounce in his stride. His friends all have swimming pools, so he's still brown from the summer, and on top of all that masculinity he's got a rug of hair across his chest that is just begging to be gripped with tight fingers. His brunette hair is wiry and stiff and easily holds its wave-like curls, even in a hard wind. His eyes are slate blue, and he's got the cutest, the most uber-kissable upturned nose.<br/>
<br/>
So your heart is in your throat as you prance back out to Paulina's car with him. <i>Jesus, get a grip, man,</i> you chide yourself as you fall into the back seat with him. <i>You're not a girl, you're not gay, you're not in love with this guy!</i> But just try telling that to the chemicals rushing like a babbling brook through your body!<br/>
<br/>
"You bring your biology homework?" you ask Ethan as Paulina pulls back out into the darkened street. Your voice quavers. "That's what I need help with. You think we're gonna have a pop quiz tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dunno," Ethan says in his gruff baritone. "Flunk it if we do. I got French to get through, though." He's a boy of few words.<br/>
<br/>
"Ooh, I can help you with that! <i>Madame a dit que je suis le meilleur de la classe!</i>" You titter, and almost die of embarrassment inside. Someone in the front seat snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Ethan says after a fractional hesitation. "Carly's gonna be there too, right? We were gonna work on French."<br/>
<br/>
"If we stop by my house," Evie says from the front seat, "I can pick up my homework too."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, do you want to come out too?" you ask her without enthusiasm. "I thought you and Paulina were— Well sure!" you correct yourself. "It's a homework <i>party,</i> right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I changed my mind about going," Paulina says in a voice that is tightly neutral. "You want me to drop you off with Madison and them?" she asks Evie. "Are we going by your place?" she asks after Evie doesn't reply.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I forgot," Evie says. "You wanted to hang out and talk about, um, stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you driving us if you're not going?" Ethan asks.<br/>
<br/>
"We were all hanging out together," you tell him. "Paulina was really sweet and said she'd pick us up and drop us off. Um, I'll have to get Carly or someone to take me home. Take <i>us</i> home," you can't help correcting yourself with a wave of hope and ardor.<br/>
<br/>
Silently you curse yourself out for acting like a silly, lovestruck girl. You also curse out Paulina for being a bitch, Evie for trying to horn in on the party, Ethan for being a stupidly oblivious boy, and yourself above all that for letting yourself get wound up inside Madison Crawford's exhausting emotional drama.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's only a small "homework party," for that's the only kind that "Paulina Nowack" could set up as a lure for Madison. It's at the home of Julie Eckler, one of Madison's friends, and though everyone else who was invited is already there, that only makes for eight once you and Ethan finally step inside.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Paulina?" Julie asks as she pulls you through the foyer into the living room where the others are hunched or sprawling on the floor. There are lots of open notebooks, but also lots of cell phones, and no one seems to be paying any attention to the schoolwork. "I thought she was giving you a ride."<br/>
<br/>
"She was, but she had a headache or something." You brush Ethan's arm, to tell him not to contradict you. "So she's skipping."<br/>
<br/>
"Nice of her bring you guys out anyway," Julie says. She's a sweet girl who thinks well of other people. <i>Too bad she's as tall and skinny as a flagpole and has funny-looking horse teeth.</i><br/>
<br/>
Which hasn't stopped her from getting a boyfriend. Said boyfriend, Charles Sweeney, steps in from the kitchen with two sodas, one of which he passes to her. He nods at you with a twinkle in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
You settle onto the floor next to your best friend, Dana diBenedetto, who is smaller and darker than you, but is also plumping to be a cheerleader. You smile at Ethan's best friend, Bradley White, who is sprawled on the other side of Dana, and he smirks back at you. If Madison can't manage to snag Ethan, she'd settle for Bradley, who might not be a wrestler but is a snowboarder with a wicked smile and a reputation for mischief.<br/>
<br/>
You quickly catch up with the other girls as you settle in and break out your books: marine biology and geometry, the two subjects that give Madison the most trouble. (She's no head for memorization or for numbers.) Again you try prodding Ethan into working on biology—"Come on, you can quiz me on the octopus parts and I'll quiz you on your vocabulary"—but he demurs to work with Carly Schmidt, who shares that particular French II period with him. (He has it first period, you have it fifth.) So you wind up doing the quizzes with Bradley and Dana, who share both those classes with you.<br/>
<br/>
"So how was the drive out?" Dana breathlessly demands of you in the kitchen when you're taking a break. Her eyes glint. "You and Ethan, did you—?" Her grin is blinding. "Were you in the back seat together?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes!" You grab her by the elbows and squeal. "I mean, we just rode out together. Paulina was being kind of a pill. Ride back with us? I'm going to ask Carly to drive, and if you take shotgun, me and Ethan can—!"<br/>
<br/>
 "Sure!" Dana squeezes you back. "You thought any more about my idea?"<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes pop with excitement, and you have to breathe into your cupped hands to keep from hyperventilating. <i>God damn it!</i> You had no idea that girl hormones could be this powerful!<br/>
<br/>
Ethan's birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and Dana's idea was for you—Madison—to throw him a surprise birthday party. It's an awesome idea, but you—Madison—aren't sure if it isn't too much. <i>Like, what if it freaks Ethan out instead of, you know, showing him that he likes you?</i><br/>
<br/>
And now you've got another worry. You're not Madison Crawford, and you're not sure you want to play the part so perfectly as to get yourself a boyfriend.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112311121
author_id: seuzz
title: A Couple of Surprises for the Boys in Your Life
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Temperatures are in the low fifties the next morning as you pace the driveway in front of your house—Madison Crawford's house, but you're Madison Crawford now—waiting for your ride to school. You are wearing stockings under a long pair of flannel running shorts, and a shapeless sweater under an overlarge jacket, but still you hug yourself against the cold. The sky is still dark, for the sun won't rise for almost another hour.<br/>
<br/>
At last, a pair of headlights turn onto your street, and you hurry down to meet them. The car brakes to a sudden stop, and the cabin light springs on as you hurl your book bag into the front seat and clamber in after it. "Oh my God, am I so glad to see you!" you pant.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb Johansson stares at you from behind the wheel.<br/>
<br/>
"We can go now," you prompt him. "I have to be up at the school by seven."<br/>
<br/>
Still he says nothing as he slowly accelerates back into the street. You ask, "Have you been worried about me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes! I know you got my text message last night 'cos you replied!"<br/>
<br/>
Silence. "I got a text message from a Madison Crawford."<br/>
<br/>
"Which is me! I told you that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I didn't know what to expect," he grumbles. It is dark inside the car, but you can just make out his head as he turns to look at you. "So what the fuck is going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's my new alias. Permanent alias, finally, I hope. Madison Crawford, sophomore."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>Christ!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, don't start with me, man, it's been a hectic few days! This is the third girl I've slid into since last time I saw you."<br/>
<br/>
It takes you the rest of the trip to school to explain it all to him, and Caleb explodes at a couple points—like when you tell him that there are now two sophomore girls who know about the masks—and he can only sit in the car, nursing an aneurysm, it sounds like, after he parks in the deserted student lot at Westside High. His voice is numb when he asks, "So will you need a ride home this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, if you're offering, but you'll have to stay late 'cos I got gymnastics after school. But this won't be a regular thing," you add as Caleb mutters in the back of his throat, "'cos there's carpools in the mornings and afternoons I can usually take. But I wanted to talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
"So what am I supposed to do until school starts?"<br/>
<br/>
"Take a nap. Go get donuts. Jerk off." You climb out of the car, but pause to lean back in before slamming the door on him. "Do me a favor. Just don't jerk off while fantasizing about me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are way early up to the school because you've got swim practice, which starts at seven and continues through first period. Madison is an excellent swimmer, and it was going to be her athletic specialty, until the start of her freshman year when she got hit by good news and bad news. The good news was that her boobs finally came in, and in a big way, and the whole curve and contour of her body changed that put a bit of a drag on her aquatic performance even as it gave her something to preen about. The bad news was that, after being thrown into high school with a bunch of other people from other middle schools, she found she was no longer the best swimmer in her class. It was a real come down, and that was when she started looking at gymnastics and then cheerleading.<br/>
<br/>
But you're looking forward to the class, and not just because you'll get to see girls like Andrea Varnsworth and Olivia Byrne in the locker room as they change into their suits. <br/>
<br/>
"Whadja do for your last birthday?" you ask Matthew Adams as you splash around in the pool, warming up. Matthew is another sophomore, a cutie-pie with short, frosted-blonde hair. Madison has made out with him, and she'd for sure be interested him in except that he makes no bones about being a "player."<br/>
<br/>
"My folks took me out to eat," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean with your friends. You did something with friends, didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hung out and swam, ate hot dogs on the back patio. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
You look past him to Lucas Bell, another sophomore. He's a stoner, and his hair is so long and bushy that, like most of the girls in the class, he has to put it up in a cap. "What about you, Lucas? What did you and your friends do for your last birthday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Partied at the river."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, bullshit," Matthew cries. "You're such a freaking liar!" He pushes Lucas, who pushes him back. You kick off from the side of the pool, rolling your eyes as you launch into a lap while the two guys wrestle in the shallow end.<br/>
<br/>
Your question gets no better answer in second period from Andrew Bean, who claims (more bullshit) that he celebrated his last birthday with a vodka-fueled orgy at the Warehouse. (Andrew is a partier, but he's a smirking liar and show off too!) But in third period, one of the football players, David Harrell, finally gives you an awesome idea when he tells you that he and a bunch of friends celebrated his last birthday at the laser-tag place behind the mall. <i>Laser tag would be a perfect thing for Ethan's surprise party!</i> Dana enthusiastically agrees when you tell her just before lunch. "So who are we going to invite?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone! As many as we can get! But we can't let them know what it is or who it's for." Your mind is abuzz with schemes. "Wait, the laser-tag place is right next to the minigolf place, right?" You clutch her by the arm. "So we'll set up a thing for a bunch of people at the minigolf place, to throw everyone off track! Then at the last minute we'll move everyone over to the laser tag place for Ethan's party!"<br/>
<br/>
"So why don't we just do it at the minigolf place?"<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. "Ethan won't want to go minigolfing! That's for, like, little kids. But that'll be the cover for— Here, just follow my lead at lunch today!" You feel like your skin is going burst from excitement.<br/>
<br/>
There's already a long line in front of the cafeteria, and you crane your neck fruitlessly looking for friends up ahead that you can cut in front with. But Bradley White has the same idea, and he joins you rather than take his place in the back of the line. "Hey, 'sup?" he asks with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome, I was just looking for you." You briefly grab and squeeze his hand, and a slight blush runs up his throat. "You like laser tag? You and Ethan?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos I got reservations and tickets for, um, a couple of weeks from now? Up at the laser tag place at the mall? But I can't use them? So, you and Ethan want them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, if you're giving them away."<br/>
<br/>
"I am. That's great, I'll talk to you about it later, when we're closer to— What's the date of that Saturday? The eighteenth?" You quickly confirm it on the calendar on your phone. "So we got two weeks to talk about it in." Your heart is beating hard.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"No deal. Just a change of plans on my end. Don't want the tickets to go to waste. Tch! I wish I could use them, all four of us could go laser tagging, you and me and Dana and Ethan."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd want more guys along than that."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Perfect!</i> You can hardly keep from shrieking. "So you should totally get a bunch of guys together for it! I know David Harrell likes laser tag. Get him and Darrell and, like, everyone you and Ethan hang out with, go up for laser tag."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." Bradley bobs his head. "And you need to totally find a way of getting out there with us."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, I will,</i> you think. <i>And I'll bring most of the sophomore class with me when we surprise Ethan there for his birthday!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Way to make me feel like a leper," Caleb grumbles as he starts his car. "And after ruining my afternoon, too."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't ruin anything," you retort. "What, did you have a date with Eva Garner you had to cancel?" He answers with a glower. "You have a date with me now."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a sidelong look, and you feel his eye rake you up the thigh. After swim practice you changed into a skirt and blouse for the balance of the day, but now you're back in shorts and a tank top, to cool off from after-school gymnastics practice, so you've lots of glowing, healthy skin to show off.<br/>
<br/>
Well, let him look you over. Maybe it will make up a little for forcing him to stay after school, and then forcing him to stay another twenty minutes until all your sophomore friends were gone, so none of them would see you climb into a car with a dork like him. <br/>
<br/>
"We have to stop at my house," you tell him, "to pick up the book."<br/>
<br/>
"What book?"<br/>
<br/>
"What book do you think? I've been waiting for things to settle down before trying out the next spell."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! We're still doing that, after all the—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's been nothing but a disaster!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, at the very least, we can <i>look</i> at what it does! Maybe it will solve all our problems. You want things back to normal, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb says nothing for the rest of the ride out to your house, and he says very little on the subsequent ride out to the old elementary school, where you park in the side lot and go over the spell using an online translator.<br/>
<br/>
But when you're done, you have to admit that maybe you shouldn't go any further. Online searches show the new ingredients will be extremely expensive. And beyond that, the major ingredient gives you serious pause: Four hundred pounds of earth taken from a graveyard!</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121123111211
author_id: seuzz
title: It's a Gift
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"If we can just get the dirt," you muse.<br/>
<br/>
"The <i>dirt?</i>" Caleb exclaims. "You're worried about getting <i>the dirt?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"We'd have to break into a cemetery—"<br/>
<br/>
"Forget the dirt, where are we gonna get <i>five hundred dollars</i> for the rest of the shit?" Caleb's eyes almost start from his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Quit exaggerating, it won't cost that much. And I can kick in a hundred, at least. I'll tell my mom I need some  new clothes." You shift in your seat, enjoying the feeling of your t-shirt rubbing against your boobs. Then you snap  your fingers at a sudden, totally brilliant thought. "And I know how to get the rest of it!"<br/>
<br/>
"How?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just take me home." You dig out your cell phone (which is pink, covered with stickers, with a Mickey Mouse bangle dangling off the end). "I gotta get started."<br/>
<br/>
"But we just got here!"<br/>
<br/>
"And now I need to get home! I got stuff to do if we're going to get the things for this next spell!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb says and does nothing even as you scroll through your contact list, making mental notes. Only when you glance up with a squint does he turn the motor on. "You're really fucking manipulative," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"I know. It's a gift," you reply, and tug at the hem of your shorts, which have been riding up the sides of your taut, creamy thighs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb is even angrier when you foist on him the job of collecting the dirt, but you tell him that if he does that, you'll pay for the rest of the stuff yourself. He grumbles that he doesn't even want to do the spell but finally gives in, and agrees to text you in a day or two after he's collected the dirt.<br/>
<br/>
The next morning, in the carpool on the way to school: "If I guess who it's for," Heaven Granberry asks as she hands you a twenty dollar bill, "will you tell me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." You slide the twenty into your billfold. "Because then it won't be a secret!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's this all about?" Lucas asks from the front seat. (It's his mom's turn to drive carpool, and he always calls shotgun on those mornings.)<br/>
<br/>
"Madison's throwing a surprise birthday party—"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Un</i>birthday party," you correct Heaven. "That's what guarantees it'll be a surprise. No one expects an <i>un</i>birthday party. We're holding it up at the minigolf course two weeks from Saturday." You lean forward to poke Lucas in the shoulder. "And <i>you're</i> invited too!"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what Heaven's giving you money for?"<br/>
<br/>
Heaven answers for you. "It's to buy birthday— <i>un</i>birthday presents for whoever the party's for," she says. A querulous tone creeps into her voice. "Except Madison's not saying who it's for."<br/>
<br/>
"To keep it a surprise! If I start telling people who it's for, it's ruin the surprise because it's bound to get back to them!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why can't we buy our own, uh, presents for the person?" Lucas asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Because you don't know who it is! Trust me." You squeeze his shoulder. "It's going to buy something <i>awesome,</i> or a couple of awesome things, for them."<br/>
<br/>
Lucas doesn't answer, and you don't like the mulish quality of the silence that radiates from the front of the car. You hope everyone else at school isn't going to be this tightfisted and unhappy. You need at least ten people at twenty dollars a pop to cover the cost of the magic supplies, and ten people more than that if you're going to actually buy stuff for Ethan's party.<br/>
<br/>
"It's for me, isn't it?" Matthew says without preamble as he piles into the car at the next stop. He hands you a bill. "The party."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd like to think so," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd love it if it was for me." He leans in close enough that you can smell the mint toothpaste on his breath. "You'd love it too. I'd make sure of that."<br/>
<br/>
You can't help grinning back into his face. <i>Was this what it is like for other people in your class, back in your sophomore year? Everyone doing things with each other, making party plans, hanging out, flirting, trying to get boyfriends or girlfriends? How much you were missing!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Class period by class period you sweep through the school, collecting money from the people you're inviting out for the massive minigolf party you've announced for the eighteenth. Madison's best friends—Dana and Julie and Carly and Charles; Kaitlyn Page and Alexandria Hull and Tenille Howe; and more—contribute cheerfully. Others, like Courtenay Blessing and Abigail Philips, are less enthusiastic, though they do chip in. For most of Madison's guy friends and acquaintances you lower the cost to ten dollars, and even then you have flirt pretty hard, hinting heavily to Donovan Bergquist and Jared Cochran and Liam Schoonover and others that this surprise unbirthday party might be for them so they don't want to skip it.<br/>
<br/>
The hardest part comes when you try pumping girls like Kaylee Mercier and Wendy Adler and Leslie Osbourne for contributions. Kaylee and Wendy, like Madison, are on track to join the cheerleading squad, and they and Madison circle each other warily. Worst is Leslie, a rich snot who's taking a bunch of AP classes, and who not only turns you down point blank when you hit her up for a contribution, but even says she's not sure she can make it out to a party on the eighteenth. "I think there's something going on at the country club," she says.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you'd be happy if she didn't make it, and if Kaylee and Wendy didn't make it either, except that then you wouldn't get to see their faces when they found out that the party was for Ethan, and had to watch as he thanked you for it. <i>Specially</i> thanked you for it.<br/>
<br/>
But though it's stressful work, by sixth period you've collected money or pledges of four hundred dollars.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey, can do me a favor?" you ask Ethan as you sidle up to him at the end of sixth period. "Walk me to my next class? That's not the favor," you hurriedly add, although your heart is beating wildly at the prospect of having <i>Ethan Clayborne walk you to class.</i> "I wanna talk on the way."<br/>
<br/>
Ethan looks blank for a moment, then nods curtly. <i>God,</i> you think, <i>how amazing would it be to have his arm around my waist and his hand on my butt!</i> Then, <i>Stop it, Prescott!</i> <br/>
<br/>
But still your core flushes with an almost liquid desire, so you get a thrill as the crowds in the hallway force you to rub up next to Ethan as you shove your way through the Mr. Fernandez's class. Even better, you also have to put your mouth to the side of his head and shout in his ear to make yourself heard, so you get to tickle your nose with his hair. "There's a party going on two weeks from Saturday!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I heard!" he replies. "Up at the go-kart track?"<br/>
<br/>
"Minigolf! Did Bradley tell you I'm giving him tickets for the laser tag place next to it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. Bradley can be such an airhead sometimes.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, those tickets are for the same day as my minigolf party, so I had to get rid of them! But if you and Bradley and any of your friends, you know, used them, you and they could maybe meet up with the rest of us afterward!"<br/>
<br/>
He mulls this. "Yeah, I guess!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you should! I want everyone I know to come out!"<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't it supposed to be a birthday party?"<br/>
<br/>
"Unbirthday party!" <i>Why can't people keep that straight?</i> "Surprise party for someone!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's the surprise!" You pull him into Mr. Fernandez's classroom. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm taking up collections to buy a couple of presents for the unbirthday person," you explain, "but you don't have to give anything, since, you know, you're just going to be hanging out there separately. If you come." Your heart clambers up into the back of your throat as you look up into Ethan's face. "I just want you and Bradley and, you know, whoever else, to know you're invited too." You almost choke as your throat threatens to close up. "I— We'd really miss you if you didn't come."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure," Ethan says, and you almost squirt as he flicks a stiff curl of hair from off his forehead. "It sounds like fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Great! There's—!" Your voice briefly fails as you screw up the courage for the next bit. "There's kind of a reason I want you guys out there, but not, um, <i>at</i> the minigolf place, just close to it. Um, it's that—" Your vision swims as you feel yourself start to hyperventilate. "You guys are part of the surprise!"<br/>
<br/>
Ethan's eyebrows twitch with puzzlement.<br/>
<br/>
"That's all I can say," you gasp, "without ruining the surprise. Just don't— If you can make sure that you're at the laser tag place with Bradley and whoever— Well, I've got an extra special surprise for the person I'm doing this for. And I just need you guys out there, in order to get it to work. You don't have to do anything else!" The room seems to swim. "So, as a favor for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Um—" Ethan scratches the back of his head. "What do I tell the other guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell them you want to go to the laser tag place on the eighteenth. Thanks! You're doing me a <i>huuuuuge</i> favor!" You just manage to stop yourself from throwing your arms around his rocklike torso and squeezing hard.<br/>
<br/>
After he goes, you collapse into your desk, weak from all the stress and excitement. But it's all done. In one day you've managed to arrange the surprise party for Ethan <i>and</i> finance the next experiment. You sag with relief.<br/>
<br/>
But you sit up sharply when you see Evie Cummings coming in through the door. <i>Evie and Paulina!</i> You haven't spared them much thought in the last few days. You told them you wanted to be friends. Maybe you should invite them out to the party too, even though they're totally not Madison's kind of acquaintance.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211231112111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Reluctant Friend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You beckon Evie over to your seat with a smile and a wave. She gives you a wary look, but approaches.<br/>
<br/>
"How are you doing?" you ask her. "I missed talking to you yesterday!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm okay." She pauses. "How about you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Exhausted! Between swimming and gymnastics and everything in between! You have fourth lunch, right? Right!" you exclaim when she nods. "I always see you sitting over by the door with, um, a bunch of guys. I guess Paulina has fifth lunch? So it's just you and those guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
Your lips twitch. "You like any of them?"<br/>
<br/>
Evie stares, and a slow flush creeps up her cheeks. "We're all friends," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You titter. "That's not what I asked! But come sit with me and my friends at lunch tomorrow. What are you doing after school today?" You glance over at Lindsay Cho, who is staring with an open mouth at you and Evie from the classroom doorway. "I've got gymnastics, but you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing." There's trepidation in Evie's eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"So hang out with me? You've got a car and I'll need a ride home anyway." You unfurl a wide smile at her.<br/>
<br/>
Evie must have caught a glimpse of Lindsay out of the corner of her eye, for she glances over at her friend. "You want Paulina to come along too?" she asks through frozen lips.<br/>
<br/>
"No, just you and me. Maybe we can go find Paulina later. Or some of your other friends. Or we can go find some of mine." You lean forward to touch her arm with forefinger. "We missed you the other night over at Julie's!"<br/>
<br/>
Evie nods, and on stiff legs stalks over to where Lindsay is waiting. You pull out your phone and pretend to smile at the screen, but out of the corner of your eye you watch Evie and Lindsay. They put their heads together and whisper furiously to each other as Lindsay gives you a lot of sidelong looks.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The end of the day can't come soon enough for you, especially after you get to gymnastics. That after-school class is stressful enough as it is. Not only is one of the current cheerleaders—Gloria Rea—in there, but there's another girl, Sydney McGlynn, who is rumored to have been on a cheerleading squad that <i>went to the national finals</i> last year. (But no one knows for certain. Sydney—who certainly looks like a champion cheerleader, what with her toned body and shimmering sheets of golden hair—is a new girl at Westside, and keeps to her new friends up in the senior class.) But Kaylee Mercier and Wendy Adler are in there too, so there's that rivalry to keep things interesting. Even worse, Leslie Osbourne is in there too, contributing a bitchy attitude even though she clearly has no hope of making it onto the cheerleading squad. And today, those three girls are in no mood to be nice to you and Dana after the way you hit them up with contributions to the party you're planning.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna go do a couple of laps in the pool," you huff at Dana after class is done. "God! I need to cool off!"<br/>
<br/>
"You worked really hard," she agrees.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not that! Freaking Leslie. Did you hear what she said to me? While we were in line to the parallel bars?"<br/>
<br/>
"About turning tricks for money?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes! I wanted to smack her face off!" You toss your hair. "She's overcompensating, you know. On account of her loser brother!" Leslie's older brother, Spencer, is a scruffy pothead up in the senior class.<br/>
<br/>
"I could use a dip too," Dana says.<br/>
<br/>
"No. If you don't mind I just wanna do a couple of laps by myself, cool the freak off, you know. If you're there I'll just get wound up all over again, talking about Leslie and them. Oh!" You give Dana a quick hug when you see the look of disappointment in her big eyes. (Also, she feels so good in your arms, so small and soft. You want to bury your face in her dark hair and snuffle up the scent.) "You and Tenille go hang out," you add as you see another friend approaching. "I'll call you later, we can do something together!" <br/>
<br/>
"Don't you need a ride home?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll call around till I find one, don't worry about me!" You smile at Dana and give Tenille a quick wave before turning on your heel and prancing off into the natatorium.<br/>
<br/>
There's a solitary figure doing laps when you enter: Andrea Varnsworth. You duck into the changing room before she can come up for air and spot you. Andrea, the team captain, terrifies you and Madison both. She is so beautiful, and so talented a swimmer, and so coolly aloof that you don't feel worthy of breathing the same air as her. Talking to her is even worse than trying to talk to Ethan, because there's never a hint of sympathy or interest in Andrea's eyes.<br/>
<br/>
In the changing room you switch from gymnastics clothes to your swimsuit, but cover it up with baggy shorts and a short-sleeve blouse that you leave unbuttoned. You sit on the bench and text Evie: <i>Hey still up at schol and wnat to hang out.</i> Evie replies not half-a-minute later: <i>Where r u?</i> You: <i>Meet u n parkng lot.</i> You slide on some flip-flops, and pull your bag onto your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
You almost run into Andrea as she comes into the changing room. "I'm closing up here after I shower," she tells you bluntly.<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine," you gulp. "I changed my mind about doing laps anyway." You duck your head and dodge past her.<br/>
<br/>
You don't glance back, even though you're sure you feel Andrea's eyes boring into the back of your neck. <i>I wonder if that's how Evie feels about me?</i> you wonder as you scurry out of the natatorium. <i>About Madison, I mean,</i> you correct yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Evie is shy, and can't seem to find much to say as she drives you and her back into town. You fill the time with chatter, groaning about your day in gymnastics, until you are parked at the Gemini Drive-Thru, a fifties-themed carhop on the other side of town. "But you're on the soccer team," you conclude as you sip a diet cherry limeade. "I bet <i>you</i> got stories too."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." Evie shrugs and stares into her lap. Almost mechanically, she takes a sip of her own drink.<br/>
<br/>
You give her a moment to expound before you lean in to share confidences.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, I was serious when I said I wanted us all to be friends. You and me and Paulina. That's how come I want you to come out to that unbirthday party I was telling you about."<br/>
<br/>
"Me and Paulina?"<br/>
<br/>
"And anyone else. Your friend Lindsay. Those guys you hang out with."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?"<br/>
<br/>
You slide your straw up and down. Those guys are a bunch of nobodies—freaks and geeks—and they'd look out of place.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. But if you and them're gonna come, you really should contribute to the party fund, and I don't want to ask you to do that. So do it like this. You and your friends just show up there at Monte Viso on Saturday, you know, like just to play minigolf the same time as all of us. That way it looks like it's just, you know, a coincidence or something. And then you won't have to pay but you'll still get to be at the party!" <i>And,</i> you add to yourself, <i>it won't look like I asked you and those guys to come out.</i><br/>
<br/>
"I don't know if Paulina will want to," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"She's not still mad at me, is she? <i>You're</i> the one who should still be mad at me." You reach over to lightly fondle a long strand of her hair, and she jumps a little. "I told you I'm sorry, and I really am. But I'm <i>all about</i> making it up to you. Paulina too. So you should come and eat lunch with me tomorrow, come out to that party, hang out, become one of my friends. You and Paulina both. There's a lot I could do for you." You put your feet up on the console, and rest your free hand on your silky-smooth knee. "Me and Madison." You suck your limeade to the bottom, until it stutters in the straw.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," Evie stammers. "Um ... "<br/>
<br/>
"Um?" you prompt her.<br/>
<br/>
She start to turn pink. "Nothing. I don't know." She twists the key in the ignition. "I should get home."<br/>
<br/>
"I should too. I'll call you over at lunch tomorrow. Wait for me to call you. I want it to look like I want you to come over, not like you're trying to push in. You know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
She puts the car in reverse, but you grip her by the arm before she can pull away from the restaurant.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I really do want you to be my friend, Evie."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Back home you help put supper on the table; then after eating you go down the hall to your bedroom, where you do homework with ten percent of your concentration and check in online with the other ninety percent. You text Dana for help with geometry and casually drop word that you got a ride home with Evie after school. You're hoping that Dana will reply with something like <i>Evie is such a sweet girl</i> but instead she changes the subject to talk about Darrell Jackson, who she has lately become obsessed with, probably because he is one of Ethan's best friends.<br/>
<br/>
You're still not done with your homework when you get a text from Caleb. <i>Htting the cemetery tnite,</i> he says. <i>Come with me.</i><br/>
<br/>
You blow a loose bang from your forehead. There is no way Madison Crawford can go out to raid a graveyard.<br/>
<br/>
But you hesitate before giving Caleb such a firm negative. Madison can't go out, but Will Prescott could, if you stripped the mask off after lights out and snuck out through the bedroom window.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112311121112
author_id: seuzz
title: Projects and Projections
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Rufkm?</i> you text Caleb back <i>Lol.</i><br/>
<br/>
Then, more seriously: <i>My rents wont let me out n I cant get away also we had a deal I got the money u get the dirt.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's some minutes before Caleb replies, and then it's with a curt <i>ok</i> followed by a <i>I will do it tmorw nite.</i><br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. <i>You're so transparent!</i> you want to yell at him. <i>If I don't do it tonight I'm not going to do it tomorrow!</i><br/>
<br/>
Then you switch back to an earlier conversation with Tenille: Should she be trying to hook up with Harrison Bonny or hold out for David Harrell? It's a tricky question, because one of your other friends, Kaitlyn Page, would make a <i>much better</i> match with David if only you could get her to see it ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Evie!" It's lucky you just happened to notice her, for she's already walked past you with her lunch try, and she has to turn around at your call. "Come sit here!" You bump Alexandria Hull over to make room next to you at the cafeteria table.<br/>
<br/>
Evie looks back over to where her other friends are waiting before slowly shuffling back over to you. "Hey, thanks again for the ride yesterday," you gush as she settles in beside you. Her knuckles are white as they grip the lunch tray.<br/>
<br/>
You're in your element at lunch, sitting in the middle of the table and flanked by Alexandria at one side and Dana at the other; more friends, like Kaitlyn and Carly and Charles Sweeney are clustered about.<br/>
<br/>
And on the other side of the table? Ethan and some of his friends. Bradley and David Harrell. Johanna Bergstrom. Luke Brock and Kieran Matthews. From your central position you can dart between conversations as you like.<br/>
<br/>
But now you have Evie to concentrate on. "Did you write that extra credit thing for Mr. Fernandez?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't let Madison see it," Luke warns Evie with a chortle. "She wants to copy it!"<br/>
<br/>
"I do not!"<br/>
<br/>
"You copied mine last time."<br/>
<br/>
"And I only got three out of ten on it! I'm never copying off <i>you</i> again!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I didn't do the extra credit," Evie murmurs as Luke bursts out laughing.<br/>
<br/>
"Evie's already got, like, a perfect grade in there," David Harrell says.<br/>
<br/>
You whirl on Evie. "You do?" She shrugs and shoves a spoonful of fruit cocktail into her mouth. "How do you know?" you demand of David.<br/>
<br/>
"I worked with her on that moot court thing," he says. "We got an A."<br/>
<br/>
Kaitlyn jumps in from a few seats down. "<i>You</i> did all the work, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Psh, no. I just helped out. She did all the research 'n stuff."<br/>
<br/>
Out of the corner of your eye you see Kaitlyn's brow lower. Kaitlyn, like Leslie Osbourne, is a hard-charging AP type, and even dresses like a junior-achiever CEO, in dark shirts and pants, heeled boots, and hair in a severe braid, and she would probably run Evie over with an SUV if she saw extra credit points in it. Before you can leap in to change the subject, David adds, "She got her partner an A in French when we had to do a skit."<br/>
<br/>
"You guys have French together too?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"And Geometry," David tips back his carton of milk, and his eyes twinkle mischievously as he gazes at Evie.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!" You wheel on Evie. "You need to join our study group! What science class are you taking?"<br/>
<br/>
"AP Biology," David says, continuing to answer for the girl. "Next period. We have that one together too."<br/>
<br/>
"Wow!" You drop a hand to gently pat Evie's thigh. "We should all get together for a study group again. How about tonight? David? Can you hang out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." He leans around Ethan to smack Darrell Jackson in the shoulder. "Party at Madison's tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"I heard," Darrell says, squirting applesauce out his mouth as he says it.<br/>
<br/>
You lean in to hiss in Evie's ear: "Bring anyone you want. Any of your friends. Paulina <i>for sure!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Evie nods, and resumes bolting down her food.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"—so I'm like, my God, Evie! Do I have to grab you by the scruff of the neck and <i>rub your face</i> in his shirt to get you to see that he likes you?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb only grunts as he snips off a lock of his hair. "Do I just throw it on the pile?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess. Anyway, maybe it's a good thing she's so oblivious about David. I already got too many friends chasing him to manage. Wait. How many tablespoons of this stuff did I already put in?" You freeze with the heaping measuring spoon hovering over the dirt pile.<br/>
<br/>
It's Saturday afternoon, a little after four, and you and Caleb are back in the elementary school basement, finally putting together the next spell. You found bags and bags of cemetery dirt waiting when you arrived a little over an hour ago—the dirt that Caleb collected last night while you were hosting a small, quick-and-dirty party at your place. You've been telling him about it ever since he got here.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you haven't executed your part of the deal. You spent the morning and early afternoon running around town buying a lot of chemicals and liquids and powders with half the money you collected at school. After Caleb joined you, you laid the open book on the floor, covered it with the dirt, and have been adding everything else the spell calls for.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe too much of it. "Caleb," you repeat as your friend rummages through the last shopping bag. "How many tablespoons of this stuff did I put in?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, man. I thought <i>you</i> were paying attention. I know I wasn't. I ain't been paying attention to you for the last hour at least."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh well, a little more won't hurt," you say, and dump the spoonful onto the pile."Wait, what do you mean you haven't been paying—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't put anymore of that stuff on, okay?" Caleb interrupts as he measures out a length of igniter cord, which he made a point of going out and buying himself. "We got enough shit in the pile already to take down this whole building if this goes pear shaped."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not going to explode," you retort. "The book wouldn't— Well, hang on." You frown at the pile. "Maybe we should be doing this outside."<br/>
<br/>
"Too late now," Caleb says as he snips off the cord. "Besides, I kind of want to blow this place up. It'll put a stop to your shenanigans."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>My</i> shenanigans? You're the one who— Hang on there." You interrupt yourself as Caleb shoves one end of the cord into the pile. "I still gotta add—" You grab up the last jug of fluid that the spell calls for, pour out two cups of it, and dribble it over the pile. "Okay, I think that's all."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Got your phone ready?" Caleb lifts the other end of the cord and holds a lighter to it. "Go."<br/>
<br/>
You hit the stopwatch as he drops the fizzing cord, and together you run up the stairs and out to his car. Your heart is beating hard as he peels out and up the street to park two blocks away. You anxiously split your gaze between the stopwatch and the tree line, where in twenty seconds ... <br/>
<br/>
Nineteen seconds ... <br/>
<br/>
Eighteen seconds ... <br/>
<br/>
... you are half-expecting to see the roof of the old school levitate atop a bloom of flame and smoke. <br/>
<br/>
The timer hits zero. Nothing happens. For another thirty seconds, and then for another thirty after that, you and Caleb wait in the silent afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe it's okay," you say as the silence continues.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe the fuse went out," Caleb retorts. Slowly he drives around the block and approaches the school from another angle. It appears to be intact.<br/>
<br/>
The basement is filled with an eerie purple glow when you re-enter. Ghostly flames envelope the dirt pile. You and Caleb exchange a glance, then hurry forward. Though the flames dance and lick the roof, they give off no heat. Caleb lets out a low whistle. "I wouldn't have expected this, given all we dumped in it."<br/>
<br/>
"Toldja it would work," you gloat. "So now I guess we wait for it to burn its way through all that stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"And how long will that take?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance at the instructions you scribbled onto a sheet of notebook paper. "I forgot to write it down."<br/>
<br/>
"You're such an airhead."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not an airhead! And that's sexist!"<br/>
<br/>
"You were an airhead long before you gave yourself a set of jugs, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna kick you in the balls!" You toss your hair back. "So anyway, I guess we'll just have to wait. I do remember it saying something about how you have to relight it if it goes out. Keep relighting it until it won't relight anymore."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb lets out deep sigh and hoists himself onto the long, heavy conference table you had to shift to make room for the experiment. After a pause, you join him. "But anyway, like I was saying, I don't know what to do about Evie and David. I mean, I guess I could just let him make a move and if she doesn't want to, you know— Hey, where are you going?" you demand as he leaps to his feet and bolts for the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
"Home, man. I got better things to do than hang out here watching dirt burn. Call me when it's done. Or, I dunno, take care of it yourself." Before you can haul your jaw back into place, he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well! I guess he didn't want to hear the gossip about my new friends!</i> you think. That's okay, you can just go hang out with them.<br/>
<br/>
But you want to keep an eye on this fire. Even if it is going to get lonely.<br/>
<br/>
Then you think: <i>Why does it have to be lonely, when I can invite Evie to come out and join me.</i><br/>
<br/>
Or Paulina. She skipped the party last night, and you're getting the feeling that she's trying to avoid you.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121123111211121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Curious Miss Cummings
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You text Evie, asking if she wants to hang out. It's a quarter-hour before she responds, and then it's with a neutral-sounding <i>Ok.</i> You have to take the family car back home, so you ask her to pick you up there.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"It's kind of like a clubhouse," you tell her as you beckon her down the stairs into the basement. "It's where we're doing the magic stuff."<br/>
<br/>
Evie, looking very small and skinny and scared, stands in the doorway and cranes her neck to peer in. She was curious when you asked her to drive you out to the old elementary school in Acheson, then cautious when you marched down to the basement door and unlocked it. Now she looks frightened. "Are you sure we should be here?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I mean, we <i>shouldn't</i> be here, but it's okay. No one'll see. Not if you come in and close the door."<br/>
<br/>
Evie takes a few steps in and pulls the door shut behind her with a thunk. She comes down the steps, but freezes before reaching the bottom. "What's that?" she gasps, looking past you.<br/>
<br/>
It's the fire. You were hoping to find it extinguished, but it's still burning silently away. <br/>
<br/>
"It's a new spell I'm working on. Don't worry, it's not going to burn anything down. You can even stick your hand in it and nothing will happen. Look!" You march over and jam your hand into the flames.<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes wide, Evie inches her way to the bottom of the stairs and shuffles over. But she still hangs back. You give her a smile that you hope is encouraging, and march back over to pull her over to the conference table. "I have to babysit it, at least for a little while, and I wanted some company. So I thought of you!"<br/>
<br/>
Evie gives you a brief double-take but returns her gaze to the fire. "What's it doing?" she asks in a breathless near-whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure. Making something. That's the funny thing about the book I'm using, it— Say, what did Paulina tell you about this stuff, exactly? And, uh, about me?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart beats a little bit harder as you ask the question, for it only now occurs to you that you've not really had a close, honest conversation with Evie. You've only talked to her at school, where you have to play Madison, or when Paulina was around. What kind of a picture of you has Paulina painted?<br/>
<br/>
Evie shrugs and her eyes dart about without settling on your face. "Not a lot. She, uh, explained to me about, you know, the mask things. And how, uh, you—" Her voice fails and her head droops.<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm really sorry about that." You hop onto the table and gently tug Evie over to join you. "I don't think I'm ever really going to be able to stop making it up to you." <br/>
<br/>
<i>So how will I ever start making it up to Madison?</i> You cringe inwardly at the thought, but thrust it away. <i>There'll be something in the book, way down inside it,</i> you want to tell yourself, <i>that I can use to turn everything back to normal without embarrassing myself or anyone.</i><br/>
<br/>
"But I don't know how to make it up to you," you continue, "except by trying really hard to be friends with you. And, like, sharing this stuff with you." You put your arm in Evie's, and snuggle up close to her as she gets up on the table with you.<br/>
<br/>
She is very stiff and tense, and she stares at the fire without blinking. Then she sucks in a deep breath, and sags. "I just can't believe all this stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"I know," you agree. "I can't either, and I'm in the middle of it!"<br/>
<br/>
Evie turns to look at you. "So there's a book you're using, to make this stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. I'd show it to you, except it's in the fire, under all the fuel. But it's really old and, I guess, like an authentic old magical grimoire. And it's like the book itself is magical! You can't turn the pages in it unless you do the spells." Evie looks puzzled, and you struggle (using your hands) to explain it. "So that's how come I don't know what the fire is doing. The front of the page just tells you how to put it together. Then, after you do it, the page will turn and it will tell us what we made."<br/>
<br/>
"We?" Evie queries.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sure," you stammer. "You and me. And Paulina." Mentally you kick yourself for almost giving away that you've a partner, Caleb, that you've not told her and Paulina about. <i>Maybe I should? Later, maybe.</i> "I told you, I want us all to be friends."<br/>
<br/>
Evie mulls this, and when she speaks again, she has followed the subject onto a new path. "It was weird being that guy," she says. "Wearing that ... mask, I guess it was. I didn't know how to act, what to do!"<br/>
<br/>
"It was only part of a mask," you explain. "I didn't know how to make the part that, uh, copies memories and stuff, back when I made that one. It probably wouldn't have made a difference to you. It would have been awful being Dane, even if you knew how to be him. I'm sorry about that."<br/>
<br/>
"You keep saying that," Evie says, sounding irritated. "You can stop it. But I guess when you made that ... copy of me"—there's a gulp in her voice when she says <i>copy of me</i>—"you knew how to make the full copy. Because Paulina, when she was ... being me ... she—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Which was good, because I didn't want to mess your life up like I, uh, kind of messed up Dane's. Because I'd like to put everything back, eventually, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"So how come you can't do that now?"<br/>
<br/>
You let out a deep sigh before answering. "Because everything is so messed up. Because the guy who's pretending to be me doesn't know anything about me. And the guy who—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's pretending to be you? One of your friends? Who are you friends with?"<br/>
<br/>
That question seems to finally break the last of the ice between you, for Evie sounds genuinely curious. So you tell her about yourself and Caleb and Keith, and some of the other guys you hang out with. You take out your phone—which has been dinging all afternoon with texts and alerts that you've been ignoring—and go online to show her some of the few pictures of you and your friends. As for the guy who's pretending to be you, you explain that it's Gordon Black, the captain of the basketball team, and that the pothead that she was briefly pretending to be is now pretending to be Gordon—both of them without knowing what happened to them or knowing how to act.<br/>
<br/>
It shocks Evie to hear all this. "Whoa," she says. "So that's how come it's all messed up on the basketball team!"<br/>
<br/>
"You follow that stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Don't you? Then how come you tried switching places with Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"First of all, it wasn't my idea. It—" You just manage to catch yourself before blurting out Caleb's name. "I mean, it wasn't my plan to become him," you stammer. "I was just trying to stop him from killing me. He was going to beat me up real bad, but I had a mask with me, so I got it on him and switched places."<br/>
<br/>
"So how come you didn't just keep, uh, being him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because his life sucked. So I switched with Dane, and then I found out that <i>his</i> life sucked, so I switched with, um, you. And I guess I thought your life was okay—except for that senior girl on the soccer team who's always yelling at you—but then I guess I just sort of thought— What?" you ask as Evie turns away with a thoughtful expression.<br/>
<br/>
"Hannah," she says when you press her. "You know all about that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. What a bitch. Do you have any idea why she's got it in for you?" Evie shakes her head. "Well, it's totally not your fault." You pat her hand. "I mean, you're a good soccer player and all, so there's no reason she should be yelling at you all the time, or anyone else. Evie?" you prod her when she remains silent, staring into the fire. "I'm sorry I reminded you of all that."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's not that," Evie murmurs. She hops off the table and starts to slowly pace the basement with her arms folded.<br/>
<br/>
"So what is it?"<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't answer. But you can guess that whatever she's thinking about, it has to do with masks.<br/>
<br/>
So you're not surprised when she asks, "Can you tell me about how you make those masks? Like the one you're wearing?" There's a glint of worry in her eyes when she raises her face to give you a hooded look.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, there's a couple of parts to it," you reply, and go on to explain the mechanics of it all. Making a mask that can copy a person's body, or which can make a new body by copying lots of people; sealing the mask so it will stop copying and can be worn; the metal band that copies memories; and the paste that can attach the metal band to the mask. "You're thinking about something, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Evie swallows and hugs herself more tightly. "I was just thinking, like, you knew all about me and Paulina, right? When you were wearing those masks of us? Like you know everything about Madison? Like, who she likes and why she likes them?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. You've got a pretty good idea of where this is going, but you let her finish.<br/>
<br/>
"So, I was just thinking, if you, um, made a mask of ... of Hannah, then I'd know, if I put it on—" She starts to turn a mix of green and pink. "How come she doesn't like me."<br/>
<br/>
True. But Evie wouldn't even need a full mask for that.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112313
author_id: rugal
title: A Tall Order
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Wait!" you exclaim. "Military school? What the hell are you talking about!?"<br/>
<br/>
Not-Evie simply huffs and rolls her eyes. "This Dane guy," she starts, "has a cousin who's all, I don't know, pissed off about something and was telling his mom that he was going to ship Dane off halfway across the country to some military school." She pauses and narrows are eyes at you. "You were this scumbag, how do you not know about--"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I never heard anything about any military school!" you cry out. "If... if he's doing it then then it was probably after... which means..." You stop and bury your head in your hands. "That money that he and Chen were pissed about."<br/>
<br/>
"That what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I..." You're ready to start explaining what you think is going on to her but then pause. If that's what it is then that means Evie's, the real girl's, situation is even <i>more</i> your fault and you don't need a reason for Paulina to be even more pissed at you. So you lie, or at least massage the truth. "It's nothing, just that right after I switched into Dane his cousin and... some others... they were on my case about something Dane was supposed to do."<br/>
<br/>
"And you didn't <i>know</i>!? I thought these things--"<br/>
<br/>
"I hadn't made the thing that copies the brain at the time so I didn't have--"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, shut up!" not-Evie declares forcefully. "Either way, this Dane idiot is going to boot camp and it's not going to be <i>my</i> friend under that mask. So if you don't want to get shipped off yourself--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know, I know! I get it!" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
You already feel bad about the situation you've put Evie in but now you're swapping her out for someone else just as innocent so Paulina can satisfy some kind of grudge. You've got her brain so you know what her issues with them are and why she gave you those four names specifically.<br/>
<br/>
Courtney Blessing is a member of the JV softball team, beautiful and popular and admired by many of the sophomores and oh how Paulina would like to knock her down a peg or four. Not that she's done anything to Paulina -- by all accounts she's a pleasant enough girl -- but even still...<br/>
<br/>
And Amber Hartsell, a girl with money, a fancy wardrobe, lovely horses and a frosty attitude that leaves Paulina sure that she likely thinks she's better than everyone else.<br/>
<br/>
Those are just petty jealousies and assumptions though. Madison Crawford, Paulina knows much better and is maybe not quite as innocent as the rest. A girl who will be nice and friendly to your face while having a knife ready to plunge into your back. A little wannabe Chelsea Cooper is what she is and what she did to the one person whom Paulina respects more than any other...<br/>
<br/>
On the flipside, though, is Alice Meehan. A girl who's tall and unfashionable but tries to be girly and cheery in a way that just rubs Paulina the wrong way. Worse is that despite the things that should work against her, she's got a wide friend group and Paulina's heard a few boys mention having a thing for Alice and truth be told it burns her.<br/>
<br/>
This is when it really hits you that while Paulina isn't a bad girl -- she's generally nice and is very loyal towards her friends -- she's an insecure girl prone to grudges born from petty jealousies. Now she has a way to act on them. The worst part is that you're effectively stuck, too. You don't doubt that Paulina would follow through in some manner on her threats from earlier. You don't necessarily <i>want</i> to send one of these girls off to military school but at this point...<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, we'll go with Alice," you say with resignation.<br/>
<br/>
"Why her?" asks not-Evie. She glances at not-Dane who says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing I can really do about this. If Dane's getting packed off and shipped out then we need it done ASAP and she'd probably be the easiest person to get," you explain.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh, so how do we--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just head over to, uh, Dane's," it's now your turn to glance at not-Dane and still he stands there silently, "after school. I'll think of a way to get her out there and then we can, you know, make the swap."<br/>
<br/>
Not-Evie holds your eye for a moment before grunting. "Fine, we'll do that. But you better follow through because if you try and skip out thinking that once Evie's gone you can keep stealing my life or her's--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know!" you cry. "Don't worry," you add after taking a deep breath, "I'm not going to welch."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Alice, of course, is the easiest to get for the simple fact both her and Paulina are members of the JV basketball team and though the two of them aren't really friends per se (more on Paulina's part than Alice's), being teammates means they need to interact and in spite of her petty grudge Paulina at least keeps it internal rather than external. Still, influenced by Paulina's thoughts, you cringe and want to sigh in disgust when you watch her fumble what should be an easy shot close to the basket or get outplayed in a scrimmage by someone quicker and more nimble.<br/>
<br/>
For her part Alice apologizes, giggles and promises to do better whenever these types of incidents occur and you can't help but to think that she really does come off like an oversized kid. Even her features and manner of dress -- when not at practice of course -- feel immature. You'd almost think she was a freshman if not for one important thing: there are tall girls to be sure, and then there's Alice Meehan.<br/>
<br/>
As a freshman she was already quite tall but a growth spurt over the summer sent her a bit over six foot -- Paulina's brain informs you that six-foot-two is the official measurement -- and so she towers over not just every girl on the team but in the school as well. Only a few, like some of the volleyball players, come close. Given her height she was naturally asked to join the JV basketball team but Alice, an athletic neophyte, is a project to be sure... another source of Paulina's coolness towards her.<br/>
<br/>
But you stow that frostiness and instead warm things up as you approach her during a break in practice. "Alice," you say to her as you walk up.<br/>
<br/>
She jolts and turns around. "Oh, Paulina! Sorry for messing up a few times like that. I keep thinking I'm getting better, but..." she trails off and laughs giving you a bright smile as she does.<br/>
<br/>
You have to fight down Paulina's own urge to cringe and instead give a response that's not quite cheery but neither is it aggressive. "Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," you tell her. "I was talking with Tana a few last week and she thought it would be a good idea to talk to Almida," you start as you refer to the captains of the JV and varsity basketball teams respectively, "and Almida got it set up for us to go out to Nell Hammond's to try and work with you. You know, give you some advice?"<br/>
<br/>
Nell is another varsity player, tall like Alice (though not reaching Alice's height) and strong too... certainly the type of person it'd be good to take advice from.<br/>
<br/>
"Really? Oh yeah, she's really good right?" asks Alice. "When would we do it, though?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, after school today is the idea. That is, unless you have something else going on..."<br/>
<br/>
Alice's face scrunches up and she makes a "hmm" noise as she thinks before a more jovial expression reappears. "Well, it's nothing important," she says, "I'll just tell them I can't make it today. This is more important, right?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Yeah,"</i> you think to yourself, <i>"a whole lot more important than you know."</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're parked behind a building in Redway Plaza, the very building that houses the deli owned by Paulina's parents. It'd be a safe spot to do this she'd told you. To do, well... you look at the things piled in your lap while you sit naked in the front seat. A t-shirt, jeans, underwear, socks and shoes... and a mask. The name <i>ALICE SKYE MEEHAN</i> is emblazoned onto the back of it. You kind of want to laugh at that. It's almost like her parents knew it'd turn out to be the most appropriate middle name ever.<br/>
<br/>
Evie, the real one now, tries to talk to you a few times but you can do nothing more than give her perfunctory responses. It's not that you want to blow her off or anything, rather you can barely look at right now without feelings of guilt washing over you. She's a nice girl and you nearly got her sent off by Dane's psychotic cousin. Thankfully you didn't but in her place...<br/>
<br/>
You still feel bad. Alice seems like a nice girl too and you can only hope that she'll be able to adapt to wherever Dane's cousin will be sending her. Just like you'll need to adapt to being Alice. For how long though? You're really not sure. Paulina gave no timetable after all. Could it be a month? A year? Forever?<br/>
<br/>
You begin to hear groaning and stirring in the back seat. That's your indicator to pass over Paulina's clothes and then ready yourself. Once your hands go to your face, once this mask comes off, you'll no longer be Paulina Nowak but neither will you be Will Prescott. Instead, you'll be Alice Meehan. Her life will be your life... however you want that life to be.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121123131
author_id: rugal
title: Through the Looking Glass
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Is <i>this</i> the place?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help but to make a face as Paulina drives you through the run down trailer park. Not that you want to judge, because you are totally not that kind of person, but it's just such a shock to you, seeing a place like this. Maybe it's because you've generally never been up on this side of town. Your parents certainly never have any reason to come up here and neither have your friends. You've heard tales, of course, but actually seeing it...<br/>
<br/>
"Don't make that face," Paulina says sternly. "People live where they can."<br/>
<br/>
Ah, yeah, of course! Paulina would know all about that, right? Given her family and all. Well, maybe they didn't live in a place like <i>this</i> but they might've lived in some less than ideal places when they first came to America. Yeah, it'd probably be a bad idea to seem like you're being all judgmental in front of her, huh? That's what you decide as she parks in front of one of the trailers.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, so, um," you start as you exit the car, "I don't really see a basketball hoop or anything here if Nell's supposed to--"<br/>
<br/>
"We're picking her up since she doesn't have a car herself," Paulina cuts you off; she pushes you up the small steps in front of the door as well and knocks on the door.<br/>
<br/>
The door opens and you're surprised to see a disheveled looking guy standing on the other side of the door. You wonder if he's Nell's boyfriend. I mean he can't be her brother considering... oh, but maybe adoption or something, duh! But you're jolted by another push to your back.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, don't just stand there," Paulina's voice says from behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You acquiesce and go inside... and actually cough. You don't mean to and it's probably rude but there's a stench of... something that hangs in the air. You don't know what it is but it's very strong regardless and so you can't help but to be overwhelmed. That said, it's not a nice place at all as you walk past the dirty looking guy. There's old and musty furniture and you see dirty dishes on a coffee table and in the small kitchen. You almost wonder if you should say something when suddenly...<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" you squeal when you feel hands wrap themselves around your wrists and pull your arms behind you.<br/>
<br/>
It has to be that guy and sure you're taller than him but you're not necessarily stronger so you're finding it hard to break free. But that's not as surprising as when Paulina darts in front of you and you notice the nasty expression on her face. Just what's going on? Is Paulina in cahoots with this guy and if so just what are they going to do to you?<br/>
<br/>
It's at this time that you notice something in Paulina's hand. However, you don't really have time to try and figure out what it is as she thrusts it towards you and, probably from terror, you black out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You groan and place a hand to your forehead; you're in the backseat of Paulina's car and raise yourself to a sitting a position.<br/>
<br/>
After the first two times you're a little more used to it, that said these memories -- like that one of the moments just before you shoved that blank mask into Alice's face -- still hit you like a truck. Also hitting you, though not as hard, is the cool hair on your exposed flesh. Though not cold, the air of the autumn evening is crisp and chilly and makes you shiver as it seeps its way into the car.<br/>
<br/>
You notice the hair, dark and hanging just past your shoulders, shudder as you do as well. You brush it back with an arm that's long, a bit pale and smattered with light freckles. You're also suddenly very aware of your nakedness. At your feet, which are quite large, you feel the fabric of clothing. You reach over and dig around until you find a pair of soft panties. Putting them on proves to be more of a challenge than you'd anticipated as maneuvering your long legs in such a cramped space is a pain. However, you're eventually able to pull them up as the dark hairs of a well maintained bush disappear behind the white cotton.<br/>
<br/>
Getting the bra on is a little easier since there's less cramped maneuvering and you've got the memories to help you out. You then slip on a pink t-shirt and have to stop to marvel for just a moment. Alice is a large girl in seemingly all areas and that includes the chest as the loose shirt does little to hide her, or you suppose your, breasts,<br/>
<br/>
By the time you grab the jeans, socks and shoots you decide your done scooching and shifting and so open one of the doors and get out. Leaning against the car you have a much easier time getting everything else on. With one last shiver from the autumn night, you close the door.<br/>
<br/>
Around the same time you see one of the doors at the back of the building pop open and Evie comes out, Sandwich in hand, she makes her way over to you and hands it over and if you thought you were taller than her before, you totally dwarf her now. Not that Evie's a particularly short girl -- she's of pretty average height really -- but you're just that much taller now. In fact, you're even taller now than you are as yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," you say after taking a few bites of the sandwich. In contrast to your height, your voice is soft and high-pitched... very girly and cute even.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's Paulina's place, so..."<br/>
<br/>
She trails off and an awkward silence falls over the both of you. You want to say something, even just apologize to Evie for all you put her through, but the words have trouble forming. For her part, she glances around and shifts from one foot to the other rather nervously. The uncomfortable silence is finally broken up by Paulina coming out of the now darkened building.<br/>
<br/>
"Everything good? That <i>is</i> you in there right?" she asks as she approaches.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it is," you nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Great, then we should be getting out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"That's it?" you ask. "We're all just going home?"<br/>
<br/>
Paulina looks at you like you're dumb and shakes her head. "We'll take Evie home," she says as she motions towards her, "because after all this bullshit she deserves to rest. But the two of us? We've got a bit more hanging out to do."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Once Evie is dropped off at her house and goodbyes, well at least goodbyes between her and Paulina, are said the two of you who are left head over to Starbucks where you have a strong desire for one of the really sweet and sugary drinks. You sip on it as Paulina begins talking.<br/>
<br/>
"So, I see you <i>look</i> like her but do you have the brain stuff too?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You hold up your drink. "I don't normally like this stuff but she does and I was really, <i>really</i> craving it," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, good. So what does Alice think about the team?"<br/>
<br/>
"What does she think?" You pause to let her thoughts on the matter coalesce. "It's fun, I guess. She knows she's not that good right now but she enjoys it and feels like she gets along with most everyone else."<br/>
<br/>
"What about me?" asks Paulina.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes go wide. "Uh, she likes you well enough? But, uh, some times she feels like you're a little... hmm... cool towards her and some of the others? But she likes you, honest!" you hastily add.<br/>
<br/>
You expect Paulina would be mad about that but she simply nods. "Okay, and what about Alexis Greer?"<br/>
<br/>
"Alexis... ah, yeah, Lexi!" you exclaim. "Yeah, she likes Lexi a lot. They don't get to talk as much since she always feels a little weird about trying to force her way into her little group but," you smile warmly, "she thinks she's really fun and funny."<br/>
<br/>
A smirk spreads on Paulina's face. "Well then, aren't you lucky <i>Alice</i>?" she replies with emphasis on the name of your borrowed identity. "Because if all goes well, then the two of you are going to be getting a lot closer."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that supposed to mean?" you ask before taking another sip of your drink. God, it'd be too sweet for you normally but right now you're absolutely loving it.<br/>
<br/>
"You know about Alexis, right? That she likes girls?" asks Paulina. "Romantically," she adds as though you're too stupid to understand what she meant.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure. What about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know who she likes, right?" she asks but you can only shake your head. "Me, she likes <i>me</i>, Will or Alice or whatever you want to be called."<br/>
<br/>
"Ooooh," you simply reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't 'ooooh' me," Paulina snaps. "It's so annoying! I only let her on the team because... well, reasons, alright? But she's always trying to get in close during huddles and whatever and, like, I can always kind of <i>feel</i> her eyes on me. It's distracting, you know that?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help it and wind up giggling, a very Alice response, at Paulina's plight. Good, let her be flustered. "So what's that got to do with me?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Everything," she responds. "Because I want you to make friends with her and I want the two of you to get close. See, Alexis gets these little fleeting crushes and if you were to get close to her, then maybe..."<br/>
<br/>
She lets the thought hang but you understand immediately what she's going for. Being in Alice's head and having been in hers is giving you that kind of perspective. She wants you to befriend Alexis so that her crush on Paulina shifts to a crush on Alice.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want her to just have a crush," Paulina says, almost as if she was reading your mind. "I want you to return it."<br/>
<br/>
Now <i>that</i> is a kicker. Alice Meehan dating Alexis Greer? It'd certainly be killing two birds with one stone for Paulina. The thing is, though, what does it matter to you? You're Alice Meehan now so why should you do things according to how Paulina wants instead of according to how you want?</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121124
author_id: seuzz
title: Casting a Webb
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're going to need another mask, no matter what direction you move in, so you drive out to your old neighborhood. Caleb isn't at the community center, and you almost call him so he can come out and keep you company -- and maybe do a little of the work for you -- but you decide to leave him out of it. He'd probably just yell at you for wanting to make another jump.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, you decide not to tell him what you're doing. Let him think that you made a jump directly into-- Well, into whoever you decide to jump into.<br/>
<br/>
Which means there's going to be a fourth victim of this mask madness. Gordon into your life, Dane into Gordon's, Evie into Dane's, and someone else into Evie's. You better make this next one count, you tell yourself.<br/>
<br/>
So you give it a lot of thought as you cast and polish up another mask. And by the time you're done, you've settled on Andrew Webb.<br/>
<br/>
You're at a loss to understand why he's the one you settle on, unless it's Evie who made the decision for you. Every time you think about Paulina or Melanie or Lindsay or Bhodi (or any of Evie's other friends) you feel yourself recoiling. What a betrayal it would be, for "Evie" to be the one to hijack one of their bodies.<br/>
<br/>
It would probably also be dangerous. If you swapped places with them, you and they would still be part of the same group. What would you say to the real Paulina (or whoever you shoved into Evie's body) while you were pretending to be her? Probably your victim wouldn't dare try to tell the others what happened, because "body swapping" is just crazy talk. Still, even if it wasn't dangerous, it would be danged awkward.<br/>
<br/>
But Andrew Webb isn't a friend of Evie's. Quite the contrary. He's a jerk, a bully even, and all of Evie's friends hate him and avoid him. (Bhodi especially. He and Andrew are both in the JV soccer program, and they're always getting up each other's noses.) Andrew is an arrogant asshole who thinks he's one of the really "big guys" in the sophomore class, when he's nothing but a shitty little snot.<br/>
<br/>
So why steal his body and life? <i>To get back at him,</i> you suppose, though you yourself have nothing against him. That's why, you ultimately decide, it's Evie's personality that's making the choice, not yours. But you'll go along with it, because it makes more sense than swapping with one of her friends, and there's no one else you can really think of as an alternative.<br/>
<br/>
After finishing the mask, you make the raw metal band for copying Andrew's brain before packing up everything you'll need for the ambush. Then, after making one more quick stop for a vital bit of clothing, you go home, where you spend the evening carving runes into the metal band and affixing it to the mask.<br/>
<br/>
You also take along Chen's drug drop, to hide in Dane's car in the morning so the real Evie won't be in so much trouble.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are sick with fear—Evie has the worst set of nerves—as you wind your way through the crowded cafeteria toward the table where Andrew is eating with his friends. They're huddled over their food, laughing and nudging each other, and you have to poke Andrew twice in the shoulder before he turns around and looks up.<br/>
<br/>
He has piggy little eyes and a snub nose, and his upper lip curves easily into a smirk when he's amused. He's amused now, and you flinch at the gleaming leer as he openly looks you up and down from your waist to your brow. His lips part far enough to show one white tooth, which he sucks.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Andrew," you stammer. "You got a minute?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." He leans over to make room for you. "Scooch in."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I— I gotta go back to my friends. I just, um, wanted to ask a favor of you? What are you doing after school?" you ask in a rush.<br/>
<br/>
He holds your eye as he shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like, can you hang out after school? In the library, with me?"<br/>
<br/>
His smirk deepens. "Need help with your homework?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I just—" You feel yourself crimsoning all over. "I just thought we could hang out. Do homework together."<br/>
<br/>
Aaron Riggs, who has been openly listening, guffaws. Andrew shoots him a quick, gloating grin before turning back to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, Evie," he says. "Library. After school."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be there too," Aaron says.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you!" Andrew punches him in the shoulder. Aaron laughs.<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and with a sickly grin back away. Andrew jerks his chin at you and smirks.<br/>
<br/>
Back at the table with Evie's friends: "Wha'd you have to go talk to Andrew about?" Bhodi asks. He looks disgusted. "You have a class with him?" he asks when you mutter something about "homework." You shrug and avoid his eye.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Andrew is ten minutes late coming into the library after school—ten minutes during which you remind yourself that you can always try to hook up with him again tomorrow—and he's looking strong and healthy as he comes swaggering in. He's changed into a red muscle shirt, and his arms are a pink, lightly boiled shade. His white-blonde eyebrows are almost invisible, and his equally white-blonde hair is shorn very close to his skull. <i>Classic bully,</i> you find yourself thinking as you smile up weakly at him. He twitches a chair out with his foot and plops down next to you with his trademark smirk.<br/>
<br/>
You've got your Geometry homework out, and he nods at it. "What period you got math?"<br/>
<br/>
"Last."<br/>
<br/>
"Psh, I got it fifth," he says. "Right after lunch. Rather have it first, y'know, get it out of the way." He leans back and twines his hands behind his head. "But then I couldn't take soccer. I was watching you guys yesterday, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"I know. I saw you. Heard you. What you said." You feel yourself blushing slightly at the humiliating memory, even though it's Evie's memory, not yours.<br/>
<br/>
Andrew holds your eye. A faint stink drifts out of his splayed armpits.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, you kind of deserved it," he says, "getting yelled at like that. You know, if you want some extra practice, extra training, I can do that with you." He rubs his nose, then puts his hands behind his head again.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd kinda like that," you lie. "Would you charge me?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks startled. "Like being a personal trainer? No. Only you gotta work," he warns you. "I ain't interested if you don't wanna work."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd work. I don't like it when Hannah yells at me."<br/>
<br/>
"Pff, Hannah." He shuts his eyes and shrugs. Another wave of stink rolls out out of his armpits. "I'd yell at you too, but you'd like it when I did."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos it's for your own good. You don't wanna get yelled at, don't get yourself a personal trainer."<br/>
<br/>
"Is there anything I can help you with in return? Like with math? To help pay you back?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow. "What kinda grades you getting in there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eighties and nineties."<br/>
<br/>
"Psh." He looks disgusted. "I could get grades like that if I wanted to. Not worth it, though."<br/>
<br/>
<i>What a fucking arrogant prick,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You can only take about thirty minutes of his company before deciding that you really want to get the swap over with. So you suggest driving out some place to continue, away from the school. "Like the river?" Andrew says. You delicately counter that you were thinking of something more like Starbucks. He shrugs but is willing, and he leans in close to you as you trudge side by side out to the parking lot. You expect him at any moment to drape a possessive arm around your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
Your plan almost fails when he bridles at letting you drive, but he finally gives in with a sulk. He wedges himself behind folded arms into the front passenger seat of your car while you busy yourself with the bag in the back. He looks puzzled when you open his door, and his puzzlement turns to mild alarm when you crawl in to straddle him. But he doesn't react further before you cover his face with the blank mask. While he's out, you peel his clothes off him. Luckily, he's dressed out for a gym class in that muscle shirt, shorts, socks and shoes only, so it's easy. In the back seat you take off Evie's clothes and hurl them into the front, then change into an extra-large t-shirt and shorts that you picked up at the vintage clothing store. Only then do you tear Evie's mask off your face, fighting to keep awake as you do so.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You fail, and you sit up with a start when you wake again. But you must have been out for only a minute or so, for the mask is still inside Andrew. It's not long in reappearing, though, and you catch it before it can fall into his lap. You plant Evie's mask on him, and catch your breath as her skinny form replaces his. With a gulp, you hop back and, with your clothes and supplies, run for Andrew's car. Without bothering with anything else first, you start it with a roar and hurl yourself out onto Borman Avenue. You pull into the first strip center you pass, and park next to the garbage bins behind. Only then do you stop seal up Andrew's mask and make the final change.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's with another hard start and a sense of deja vu that you wake again. Your brain aches with confusion, and you dig your knuckles deeply into your eyes. With a snort and a sniff you sit up and look around, trying to remember who and where you are. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh yeah. The Mellon Village Shopping Center.</i> You pulled in here when—<br/>
<br/>
You freeze. The sudden pulse in your ear drowns out the grumble of nearby traffic.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly you reach up and turn the drivers' mirror toward you. Andrew Webb's piggy eyes look back at you from its depths.<br/>
<br/>
You can't help it. You smirk.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck, I need to go tell Aaron and Elijah about this!</i> you exclaim to yourself.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211243
author_id: seuzz
title: The Challenge
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>I should to tell Aaron and Elijah about this!</i> you silently exclaim to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
You're smirking at your new reflection in the rear-view mirror as you think it, and it doesn't take much insight to realize it isn't one of your thoughts but one of Andrew's, as though the kid in the mirror had the thought and transferred it to you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Just like with Evie,</i> you think. <i>I got Andrew in here with me, and whatever he thinks, I can think too!</i><br/>
<br/>
You scratch yourself under a pit.<br/>
<br/>
So, naturally, you have the urge to run off and tell your friends about this body-swapping stuff. <i>Pretty fucking cool is what it is!</i> You could make some masks of each other, swap around, pretend to be each other. Goof on each other, get each other in trouble. Get masks of other people and prank them, get them in trouble. The ideas practically come up with themselves!<br/>
<br/>
Of course, not for a minute are you tempted to follow through. It's just Andrew talking.<br/>
<br/>
And yet ...<br/>
<br/>
The longer you stare into Andrew's light blue eyes, the harder the reflection's smirk gets. <i>You don't wanna fuck around with me,</i> mirror-Andrew seems to be telling you. <i>You think I'm just gonna freak out and roll over. Fuck you, whatever your name is. I'm'a come getchu. Maybe I'll be all confused and not know what this shit all is, but I'll come after you and I'll fuck you up and by the time I'm done fucking you up you'll wish it was some other fuckers, the one's you were trying to get away from, that was fucking you up. Just watch if I don't.</i><br/>
<br/>
You look away from the mirror. He's telling you the truth, that kid inside your head with you. You can almost feel his hot breath on the back of your neck. Thoughtfully, you peel off the temporary clothes you put on back at Westside, and pull on Andrew's own.<br/>
<br/>
Before starting the car, you text Aaron and Elijah, to see where they're hanging out. You need to get them someplace where the new Evie is unlikely to find them.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Fuck me, it's dog barf." Aaron grins down at the soft, orange-brown lump that's slowly puddling on his paper plate. "Cheese covered dog barf."<br/>
<br/>
"Cheese-covered dog turd," Elijah corrects him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, whatever." You grin across the table at them. "Just long as you remember the rules. All in one bite," you explain as you pluck up one of the two "dog turds" befouling your own plate. It's actually a mini-burrito, but it stinks like canned dog food, and some of the gooey sauce and greasy cheese slide off it with a plop. "No chewing," you continue, "and you gotta hold it in your mouth and suck it down like a man, little bit at a time."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" Aaron explodes in a gasping laugh. "You're talking like you're going down on it, like it's fat, Mexican cock!"<br/>
<br/>
You kick at him under the table, but bang your toes into the table support instead. "Shit!" You drop the mini-burrito, and the smelly brown sauce splatters onto you and your friends, who shriek and squeal and cuss you out.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you guys," you retort, "those are the rules!"<br/>
<br/>
"What rules? Who says?"<br/>
<br/>
"Garner and Dougherty! And some other cocksucker. They were all hanging out by the portables and they were all, like, talking about how this is how you do it!"<br/>
<br/>
"It" is the Taco Famoso Challenge. Or one of them. Taco Famoso is a famously hideous Mexican fast-food place, where it's said that every order comes with a side of Montezuma's Revenge. It's also said that the food is just as hot on its way out as on its way in, and tastes just the same after as before. But someone must like the food, because the place is still in business and has been for years. Or maybe it's because there are so many people who enjoy taking one of the Taco Famoso Challenges.<br/>
<br/>
"So, we do it all, like, at the same time?" Aaron asks as he pats the sauce off his t-shirt. It just adds another color to the other stains. But Aaron is always a mess, from his curly mop of brown hair down to the shoes that he never ties.<br/>
<br/>
"You're suppose'ta, like, time it," you explain. "Whoever can hold it the longest without spitting it out. No, wait," you correct yourself as Aaron's eyebrows go up. "It's like, if you spit any of it out, you automatically lose. But it's whoever takes the longest to swallow it all down is the winner. 'Cos of, like, the gag reflex."<br/>
<br/>
They stare at you before exchanging an incredulous glance. Then they burst into giggles, and Elijah, who is black, covers half his face with a long hand. <br/>
<br/>
"Oh, man," he moans in his soft voice. "I already can't stand the smell of this stuff. If I gots to eat it— No." He pushes his plate away. "I don't care, I ain't doin' it."<br/>
<br/>
"No, you gotta," Aaron goads him. "If we do it, you gotta."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna spit it out right away anyhow. If I don't, I'ma gonna be paintin' the walls of this place with my puke. Nn-nhn!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, we all do it," you insist. "Spit it out and lose if you have to, but you gotta at least go along with us at the start." And because Elijah typically gives in to you, he grumbles and delicately picks up a mini-burrito with his forefinger and thumb.<br/>
<br/>
"All together on three," you start. "One—"<br/>
<br/>
"Do we gots to do both of them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, both. Two. Three!"<br/>
<br/>
You throw your head back, open your mouth, and pop the mini-burrito into it.<br/>
<br/>
It's warm and soft, and at first you taste nothing. You close your mouth around it and gently squeeze it between your tongue and palate. Something oozes out into your cheeks. You glance around the table at your friends. Their cheeks are puffed out, and Aaron looks like he's stifling a laugh, but no one is reacting yet. And it's not really that bad. Why, you think, there's no challenge to this at all if—<br/>
<br/>
Then it hits the back of your throat and nose. That stink of wet dog food, the stuff that slides out of a can like wet shit.<br/>
<br/>
Then you choke. <i>Oh God it's worse than that! It </i>is<i> dog shit! It's dog shit and it's sitting on your tongue!</i><br/>
<br/>
"Glmph!" Aaron says, and his eyes pop. He turns red, and sweat pops out on his brow. "Gw<i>phheeeewwww!</i>" He blows the whole burrito back onto the plate. You flinch as beans and sauce spray everywhere.<br/>
<br/>
Then a chunk of the same stuff slides down your own throat.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Jesus, you're going to be sick!</i> You feel your whole stomach rushing up your esophagus, like a squad of linebackers bracing to hurl back an offensive charge. There's a burning fire behind it.<br/>
<br/>
You throw yourself from the booth and rush for the door. Outside, you spray the burrito in a fat, wet splat onto the pavement. Your stomach heaves, and acid pools on the back of your tongue. You cough it out, and with shaking limbs swagger back into the restaurant.<br/>
<br/>
Elijah watches you with dancing eyes, the burrito still in his mouth. But his eyes soon begin to water. At least he has the self control to lift his plate to his mouth and gently drop the burrito back beside its twin.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The Challenge was your idea, to get Andrew's two best friends off someplace where the real Andrew wouldn't find them. Of course, he could always text them from Evie's phone, but that was another reason to hang out with them. When they asked you about your "date" with her, you jeered that she was weird and kind of psycho. "She isn't even my type," you concluded with a sniff. "Too skinny."<br/>
<br/>
When the Challenge is over, the three of you return home, for you all live just a couple of blocks from each other, just south of William McKinley Elementary, where you all first became friends in the fifth grade.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Andrew and Aaron and Elijah.</i> They're like a variation on the trio of <i>Will and Caleb and Keith.</i> Like you and your old friends, they spend more time with each other than with other people. But they're a tighter-knit trio, doing more things together than apart or in pairs, even at parties. But they also hang out with a lot more people and have more complicated social lives. They're a lot bolder, too. The very first weekend after they moved up into the high school, they made sure to hit The Warehouse, the high-schoolers-only party spot that is so hot and so dangerous that the trio of Prescott-Johansson-and-Tilley has never failed to wuss out of visiting.<br/>
<br/>
And they're more ambitious. They're larval jocks, though in different sports, and are pumped about being the best. Or, at least, Andrew and Aaron are. About Elijah you're not so sure. He hasn't got the same hustle as his friends. But officially, at least, he's committed to the same goal as the other two. The three of you are going to be captains of the school's prestige sports squads when you're seniors: Elijah captaining the basketball squad, Aaron captaining/quarterbacking the football team; and you (Andrew) running the soccer team. It goes without saying that one of you, at least, will be dating the head cheerleader. (Current betting is that's going to be Madison Crawford, and Andrew is careful to always attend every party that he's heard Madison will be attending.)<br/>
<br/>
Elijah lives with his parents in a modest tract home a couple of blocks away, but Andrew and Aaron both live in a trailer park just off Carver Road, and have known each other from kindergarten. Andrew's mom works evenings at Eagle Foods, so you have the place to yourself tonight, and Aaron drops a hint about wanting to waste the evening with you. But you should probably get in contact with Caleb, to tell him what's up with you.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112431
author_id: seuzz
title: The Webb of Friendship
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can talk to Caleb anytime, so with a jerk of the shoulder you gesture Aaron to follow you back to your trailer. There, you sate your hunger with a couple of cans of microwaved Spaghetti-Os, and settle onto the sofa to play some Halo on a decrepit Xbox.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," Aaron says, "if I give you my grammar homework, can you do it for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." You keep your eyes glued on the screen, where you're trying to hunt Aaron down through the corridors of a challenge level. <br/>
<br/>
"Solid. I wouldn't ask, only I'm down to like a sixty-two average and I can't let it slide more."<br/>
<br/>
"Your mom making a stink?" You hunch forward as Aaron's avatar swings into view, and you blast him into pulp.<br/>
<br/>
"Aaaiigh! Fucker!" Aaron slaps you in the side of the leg. "Nah, it's Coach who's— He told me at practice yesterday my grades were sucking an' I hadda get 'em up."<br/>
<br/>
"Who fucking told him? Ms. Cho?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, shit," you snort. "Maybe it was Lindsay."<br/>
<br/>
"What? No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Betchu it was. Fecking little dicksnag. She totally would, you know." You strafe to one side and again blast Aaron into a puddle of raspberry jelly. "Fat-faced little runt."<br/>
<br/>
Lindsay Cho, a girl in the sophomore class with you, is the kid sister of Ms. Cho, the English instructor Aaron has. No one can stand her. She's a sour-faced little bitch who gets off on getting other kids in trouble when they're just trying to have fun or blow off steam.<br/>
<br/>
And she's ugly, too. Fat, plain, and mopey-mouthed, to go with a personality like a water-logged garbage dumpster. <br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," Aaron mutters as he leans in on his controller. "Maybe it was Mr. Fernandez."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you fucking defending Lindsay for?"<br/>
<br/>
"I ain't defending her! Just saying! Mr. Fernandez pissed all over my last history paper, 'cos, like, he said he couldn't understand it."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker was just crunked."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." Aaron hurls the controller away as you slag him for the third time in a row. He swipes his forearm across his forehead. "I just can't ever get the words t'come out right. You know? Like I need a brain transplant."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't let 'em fucking get in your head, man. You don't need to know that shit."<br/>
<br/>
"I do if I'm gonna keep playing," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what you got me for," you reassure him. You clamber up onto the sofa and squeeze behind him, straddling his shoulders with your knees and giving him a neck rub. "I'll get you up to a seventy percent. Eighty."<br/>
<br/>
Aaron mumbles something, then hangs his head, giving you a better grip. The curls that tumble onto the back of his neck are soft and loose and kinda girly (when you get right down to it), and despite yourself you start to get an erection.<br/>
<br/>
Does he notice? He tenses a little and raises his head fractionally. "What are you doing back there?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Pretending you're Madison and I'm about to get lucky."<br/>
<br/>
"Euugghh!" He twists away and throws a hard elbow at you. You slap it away with a sniggering laugh. He dives in with a grin, and soon you're both rolling on the floor, trying to pin each other. Your chubby quickly dies during the struggle (which is fine), and the match ends with Aaron on top of you, hocking back a loogie and dangling it over your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend the evening dreading a text from "Evelyn Cummings"; worse, you dread that your new friends will get one. Eventually, you can't stand the anxiety, and after Aaron has gone home for the night you send him and Elijah both texts of your own asking if they've heard from her. When they both say <i>no</i> and <i>why?</i> you lamely admit that you're worried that she'll have a wigout or something after your "study session" at the library. <i>She's so weird,</i> you tell them, hoping that will inoculate them against anything she might try to say to them.<br/>
<br/>
At least Andrew and Evie don't share any classes, so you don't have to worry about seeing her in class, but you do keep alert for signs of her the next day at school. You think you glimpse her in the hallways at one point, but her back is to you, so you can't be sure.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is this what it's going to be like?</i> you wonder with no little irritation. Constantly looking over your shoulder in case the real Andrew starts to come after you? <i>Maybe I should do another swap,</i> you think. <i>Find some pissy little nobody and swap with them. That way they're someone who won't come after me, and Andrew will be going after them.</i> You know of course that that's not a real solution, that's just compounding a problem that started when Caleb talked you into swapping places with Gordon Black. But you can't put the idea out of your head altogether, which is probably why you don't talk to Caleb to let him know where and who you are now.<br/>
<br/>
But school ends without any crisis breaking. Your mom texts you with a set of errands she needs you to run for her, and that fully occupies your attention after school lets out. Back home, you text Aaron and Elijah to see about getting together, but neither of them respond. That would—and maybe should—worry you, but you're also fielding texts from Ethan Clayborne, who's got questions about Geometry, and that keeps you busy and happy. If anyone deserves the title "Most Popular Guy" in the sophomore class, it's Ethan, which ought to piss Andrew off (and maybe it does, a little) but even he can't resist a sneaking admiration for the charismatic wrestler, and you plump up with pride at the way you're texting so casually with him, especially when he sounds interested in a party you tell him will be happening this weekend.<br/>
<br/>
So you're not expecting trouble when Aaron finally gets back to you, and you're not looking for any when you swagger into his trailer. But trouble is waiting for you nonetheless.<br/>
<br/>
It takes the form of a pink-skinned kid with the face and body of Andrew Webb.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Aaron socks you in the stomach again. You'd howl, but you have no air left in you, and his other blows have already turned your guts into a cauldron of fire.<br/>
<br/>
Aaron and Elijah grabbed you from behind as you came in, knocking you to the floor and pinning you. They yelled and grabbed at you as you howled back. Andrew's upside face loomed into yours, and you felt him clasp your face. You roared with a sudden fear, and felt your eyes bulge as a strong hand gripped your forehead. "Fucker!" you spat through foaming lips. "Get the fuck off m—!" Then you felt your face being torn away, leaving you blind and senseless.<br/>
<br/>
But not for long. The darkness was rent by a red flash and you jerked awake with your stomach heaving like a pan of boiling pain. "Fucker!" Aaron screamed at you. "What's your name? <i>What's your fucking name?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You'd have answered him more quickly if he hadn't kept hammering you in the guts.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, gasp by painful gasp, he and Elijah drew it out of you. Your name was Will Prescott, and you were a senior at the school. It was a book of magic spells that taught you how to make masks that let you steal Andrew Webb's face and body and life. And you did it because you were hiding from guys you needed to hide from.<br/>
<br/>
Andrew himself wasn't present for the interrogation. Early on you heard him say, "I'm gonna go try putting it on," but what "it" was you couldn't tell and didn't have time to worry about, not with Aaron pounding you into pancake batter while Elijah held you down. Even when Andrew reappears some minutes later to look down at you with a hard smirk, Aaron stays concentrated on you. But you notice when Andrew gloats, "Fuck me, dude, I can remember everything you did as me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddaya fucking mean?" Aaron growls as he glares down at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, I put that mask of me on, and now I can remember all the stuff I did yesterday. When it wasn't me. Like, fuck! Dana's throwing a party this weekend! You guys know about that?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." Aaron cocks his fist again. You cringe and clench your eyes shut.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker was listening in to her and Madison talk about it, butted his ass all in and—" Aaron pounds you the side of the head, and the rest of Andrew's words are lost in the clamor of your ringing skull.<br/>
<br/>
Elijah speaks. Unlike Aaron, who is boiling with rage, he is calm and soft-spoken. "So, like, you remember where the real Evie is?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I knew where she was all along," Andrew brags. "She's being some hairy kid up in the senior class, I think. Not this guy. Some other guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Dane," you groan.<br/>
<br/>
"You know where his shit is?" Aaron asks his friend. "The stuff he used to fuck around with you?"<br/>
<br/>
Andrew pulls at his nose, then nods. "Oh, sure. Back at my place. He put it in my closet. Want me to go get it?"<br/>
<br/>
"What we gonna do about Evie?" Elijah asks.<br/>
<br/>
Andrew sniggers down at you. "Turn this fucker back into her. He was her before, he can be her again."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Elijah says, very softly. Andrew says, "Was she in on it?" When no one answers, he slaps you across the face. "I asked you a question, fuck-face!"<br/>
<br/>
"No. She— I told you, I was trying to hide, I just did the thing with her like I did with—" You try swallowing, but it hurts too much.<br/>
<br/>
"We should go help her," Elijah says.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh uh." Andrew leans over you with a leer. "We're gonna turn this fucker back into her, and then we're gonna make him show us how to do this shit so we can do it too."<br/>
<br/>
You shiver all over. Trapped as Evie Cummings, under the thumb of these assholes and helping them, might be even worse than hanging out as Dane with the threat of Gary Chen looming over you.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121124312
author_id: seuzz
title: Flight of the Prodigal
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're saved from who knows what awful fate by a buzz from Evie's cell phone. It's her mom, telling her to come home. Andrew spits and cusses, but acquiesces when the others insist on sending home someone who looks like their classmate. You, of course, are volunteered, and Andrew even wants to force you to change into Evie's clothes in front of him and his friends, but Elijah and even Aaron force him to back down. Still, you're in tears as you run out of Aaron's trailer.<br/>
<br/>
You've recovered somewhat when you reach Evie's house, though her mom notices your semi-hysterical mood. You put her off with a stammered lie about having had a bad fight with some of your friends, and she lets you retreat to a bathroom to wash up. You're in slightly better shape when you emerge to silently nibble at your dinner, but you have to put Evie's mom off again with the excuse that you don't really want to talk about the trouble.<br/>
<br/>
There's no point in trying to make another body swap to escape those assholes. They'd soon figure out where to find you. And even if they didn't, whoever you victimized would. It's one of the things that came in a flash as you were driving home: a memory of Evie Cummings looking at herself in a bathroom mirror and tentatively putting a hand to her brow to wrench at her face as arcane syllables of power bubbled on her lips. Then everything went dark. And when next she clambered upright to study her reflection, her lips curls into a triumphant smirk.<br/>
<br/>
The memory of how to take masks off: you left it in her mask when last you removed it. So all Andrew had to do was concentrate, and he could remember how to do the same thing. That is how he got out of her mask, so he could prove to his friends who he really was. Other memories, of a wondering Evie studying her naked body while not only Elijah and Aaron but Andrew grinned at her, tell you that his friends also took turns trying the mask on before they called you out for that ambush.<br/>
<br/>
So, bottom-line, your days of body-swapping are over. Worse, Andrew and his friends now have that crazy book—a thought that makes you shudder all over.<br/>
<br/>
There isn't any place to hide from them, but after this afternoon there's no way in hell you're going to continue on with Evie's life. No, it's best to face them as Dane Matthias, even with Dane's cousin and Gary Chen being mad at him. Or maybe you should go back further and get yourself back into Gordon's mask. Those little sophomore pricks would have a lot harder time bullying you if you had Gordon's body!<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe you should just undo everything you've gotten into. Give Dane his life back, give Gordon his life back, resume your own. With luck, Gordon and Dane will just be so confused that they won't link you to the weirdness. Even if they do, you feel you'd have a much less stressful time of it if you had to deal with everyone from behind your own face and not another's.<br/>
<br/>
So after dinner you get permission to run into town for some quick errands. The first of those takes you to a Dollar General, where you buy the cheapest and flimsiest t-shirt and pair of shorts you can. Then, after changing into them and out of Evie's mask in her car, you drive out to Dane's trailer park.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yeah?" Dane Matthias asks from behind the screen door. His brow is deeply furrowed and his eyes are pools of fear and worry.<br/>
<br/>
He looks hunted. You shouldn't blame him. But it makes you very tired to have to reason with the disguised Evie Cummings when you're here to rescue her from a nightmare.<br/>
<br/>
But it won't help for you to yell or to act like a dickweed. So you put on your cheeriest smile and pretend like you're Dane's best friend. "Hey man!" you exclaim. "How you doin'? I should'a texted you or something first, but I came over to see if you wanted to hang out or something."<br/>
<br/>
Dane looks very doubtful, and glances over his shoulder into the house.<br/>
<br/>
"I shouldn't," he says. "Things are kind of, um, busy here."<br/>
<br/>
"Busy with what? Your mom home?"<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates, then shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Then if you can't come out, you know, to go looking for girls or a party, at least come sit out on the roof of the car with me. I'm bored, man!"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't."<br/>
<br/>
"You got better plans?" You spread your arms in an invitation.<br/>
<br/>
Dane stares at you, and his expression turns very haggard. Then with a pained sigh, he sags and pushes open the door.<br/>
<br/>
"That's it," you tell him. "You just gotta hang loose. What happened the most relaxed guy at school?"<br/>
<br/>
It takes Dane a moment to realize you're talking about him. Before he can reply, though, you've stepped behind him. That moment of hesitation was all that you needed.<br/>
<br/>
You grasp him from behind and grab his forehead with one hand. He freezes in your embrace, which gives you time to rip his face away from his skull. The mask comes off in your hand, and Dane's clothes slip a little as Evie's small, slender frame apparates within them. You haul her up into your arms and carry her out to her car. There you strip her and pile her clothes onto her naked body before scrambling back to Dane's trailer. Instead of going inside, though, you hide in the small yard behind it, and it's there that you change into Dane's trademark flannel pajama bottoms and smelly t-shirt. You put the mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After you wake, you climb into Dane's trailer through an open window in the back, just in case Evie's car is still parked out front. You find yourself in what you take to be his mom's bedroom, and it's as dirty and disheveled as you remember his room being, with dirty dishes and old magazines piled up atop mounds of funky-smelling clothes.<br/>
<br/>
Someone's snoring in the living room when you emerge, and your heart sinks when you find Dane's rat-faced cousin—what was his name?—sacked out on the broken-backed sofa. No wonder Evie was acting so frightened. You need to get out of here before he wakes.<br/>
<br/>
But after softly searching everywhere, you can find neither car keys nor a cell phone. You're on the point of slipping on some shoes and making a hike of it to a bus stop or something when Dane's cousin stirs, sits up, and smacks his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
He rubs his eye and yawns. "You packed yet, man?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Packed?" you echo.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, packed," he says, glaring up at you. "Got your shit together?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus!" Dane's cousin heaves himself to his feet and swaggers over. Too late you duck, and he smacks you hard on the side of the head. "The fuck have you been doing?" He grabs you by the back of your shirt and hustles you down the hall to Dane's room.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, you didn't even get started!" he snarls. "Hurry it up!" He shoves you hard. "I told Ila we'd be back by nine."<br/>
<br/>
That's when you notice the suitcase just inside the bedroom door. "Um, is there anything I should specially take?" Your head spins, and your heart bobs with fear.<br/>
<br/>
"Anything you don't want to leave behind," Dane's cousin retorts. "Gonna give you five minutes, and after that you're shit outta luck."<br/>
<br/>
And so, not having any idea what's going on, you shove every scrap of Dane's clothing you can find into the suitcase. "Got y'r toothbrush?" you're asked when you appear with your bag, and you duck your head as you run into the bathroom. Dane's cousin looks thoroughly disgusted with you—but too tired to hit you again—by the time you leave.<br/>
<br/>
He takes you back to his place (you assume), where he and a skanky woman with tattoos and some missing teeth ignore you for the rest of the evening. You ask if you can go out for a bit—a chance to get away, maybe find the real Dane at Gordon's place—but that only gets you another slap and a sneering, "You fucking with me?" Your spirits are very low when you bed down for the night in the living room. <i>At least,</i> you tell yourself, <i>I can go find Dane at school tomorrow and we can straighten this out.</i><br/>
<br/>
But the next morning Dane's cousin doesn't drive you to school. No, he drives you to the municipal airport and puts you on a turbo prop with a one-way ticket. When your journey is over, you are in Oregon, and a representative from the Fort Putnam Military Academy is at the airport to pick you up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *<br/>
* * * * *<br/>
* * * * *</div><br/>
"Carmona!" Curt Bossard shouts as he tosses the package into your dorm-mate's outstretched hands. "Better be cookies! Tompkins!" He tosses out another package to its recipient. "Better be cookies. Matthias! That better be a cake," the prefect growls as you catch the heavy box.<br/>
<br/>
Tess Miller titters. "Marijuana brownies," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddaya think this is, nineteen seventy-five?" Bossard rocks back on his heels to watch as you pull at the brown paper the box is wrapped in. Given that it's from Dane's mom, it just might be something with weed in it.<br/>
<br/>
Thanksgiving is coming in a rush, and care packages are now flowing into Fort Putnam. Still, it's a surprise to get something from Saratoga Falls. In the six weeks since Dane's cousin hustled you out here, this is the first physical item you've received.  <br/>
<br/>
But your jaw drops and your hair crawls over your scalp when you rip back the tape and pull back the box flaps. It's not food that Marianne Matthias has sent you. It's a book.<br/>
<br/>
More than that, it's a book bound in red leather. When, in a semi-trance, you lift open the front cover, a row of hand-drawn faces grin and wink at you from the title page. They change expressions, aspects, and genders as you stare at them.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211243121
author_id: seuzz
title: Six Weeks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Whadja get there, Matthias?" Bossard asks. "Matthias?" he repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, just a book," you reply, and quickly shut the box up again. "It's a surprise, is all," you add.<br/>
<br/>
Of course it's a surprise. In the six weeks since your exile to Oregon and the Fort Putnam Military Academy—<br/>
<br/>
Six weeks of reveille and drills; of hard classes and daily sports and dorm inspections; and of learning that the flabby body of Dane Matthias and the wilting stamina of Will Prescott can toughen up considerably when there's a prefect or a commandant to bark at you—<br/>
<br/>
No, not even in six hard-packed weeks has a day gone by that you've not thought about the book that landed you in all this trouble. And it's not like you're ever likely to forget about it.<br/>
<br/>
But the last thing you ever expected was to open a box from Saratoga Falls and find the damned thing grinning up at you.<br/>
<br/>
You're too dazed to think clearly, but you're not so out of as to miss the glances and winks that your friends exchange. Suddenly, you're on the alert. There's a lot of respect for private property at the Putnam Academy. But if one of the guys here decides to grab the book and share it, the talk would quickly get pretty goddamned awkward.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna go back to my dorm room, get my homework done," you mutter as you scramble to your feet. "Catch you guys later." As you leave, someones sniggers, "Porn," setting off a round of snickers and snorts.<br/>
<br/>
You're halfway down the hall when you hear your name called. It's Tess Miller. "You sure cut out in a hurry," she says as she hurries up. "It's not bad news from home, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. It's just something I wasn't expecting to get is all. I—"<br/>
<br/>
You're stopped in mid-stream by the worry in her wide, china-blue eyes. She's a tiny thing—she hardly comes up to your chin—and her mousy brown hair is done up in a small, disorderly bun. She's in fatigues, and they sit on her tiny body like pajamas. You have the urge to reach up and undo that bun, shaking her hair out and caressing it.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just worried about my mom," you tell her. "And I have to do a little thinking."<br/>
<br/>
The furrow between her eyebrows deepens. "Your mom or your stepmom?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Jesus.</i> You feel your cheeks pale. "Stepmom," you reply. <i>But now that she's mentioned it ...</i><br/>
<br/>
Miller goes up on her toes and puts her mouth near your chin. You put your hand to the small of her back.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm not gonna pry," she says. "I mean, Lord knows your life's complicated enough without <i>me</i> mixing myself up in it. But if you need to talk, you know where to find me."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
The moment hangs. Then you lean down to peck her on the upper lip. She returns you the tiniest smooch on your chin.<br/>
<br/>
Then she hops back and gives you one quick, bright smile over her shoulder before scampering (hands tucked behind her back) to the commons room.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Back in your dorm room, you prop yourself on your bed and check out the box. It was sent under her name from Dane's mom's address, and it holds nothing but the book and a lot of wadded-up newsprint.<br/>
<br/>
That worries you. Because you could maybe, just barely, with a lot of stress and strain, believe that Dane's mom might, somehow, in some bizarre way, while mailing you something else (like a batch of marijuana brownies) have accidentally mailed you the <i>SAME GODDAMN BOOK</i> you used to impersonate her son. But there is <i>No. Fucking. Way.</i> you can imagine her LOL-mailing you just the book, as though she thought or knew that you needed and wanted it.<br/>
<br/>
And that's assuming that she had the book. Which she wouldn't have had to begin with.<br/>
<br/>
So.<br/>
<br/>
What the hell is going on?<br/>
<br/>
Footsteps sound outside in the hallway, and you fly over to hide the book in your footlocker under your clothes and gear. Then you jump over to desk and open up email on the laptop.<br/>
<br/>
Six weeks of life at Fort Putnam, and you're still not used to not having a cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
But you have to think long and hard before you are ready to hit "Send" on the email you compose to Caleb. And even then you only write a short note: <i>Hey, is there anything weird happening back home? Weird in you know what way?</i><br/>
<br/>
Johansson is the only person back home (except for the three sophomore assholes, obviously) who knows what happened to you, and how, and you've keep in pretty close touch with him. Naturally it was a shock to him when, three days after your induction into the Fort Putnam Military Academy, he got an email from you telling him about it all. He was even madder—and more scared—when you told him about Andrew and his friends, and how you lost the book to them.<br/>
<br/>
<i>THERE'S SEVEN BILLION PEOPLE IN THE WORLD, WILL! HOW DO YOU MANAGE TO BE THE BIGGEST FUCK-UP OF THEM ALL?</i><br/>
<br/>
He passed a nervous week or two, during which nothing too weird or frightening happened. With any luck, you and Caleb finally agreed, Andrew and his friends had managed to kill themselves, or had moved to Hollywood and were now impersonating movie stars. During your interrogation, you had given them no clue that Caleb existed or knew anything about the book.<br/>
<br/>
But now that it has turned up again, you're nervous about telling Caleb about it. Six weeks have gone by, so who knows what has changed at home, and in what way.<br/>
<br/>
So when Caleb eventually replies with, <i>No, everything's normal around here, why?</i> you reply: <i>No reason, bored, just checking in.</i> You don't know that he'll buy your excuse for emailing him, but you don't much care if he does.<br/>
<br/>
Twenty minutes later you're finishing up math homework when your roommate, Timothy Carmona, shuffles in, and you brace yourself for questions about that mysterious package that sent you running. But he only slumps in front of his own laptop with a sigh, before stripping down to his tidy whities and sliding into his bed. "Don't stay up too late, okay man?" he asks before putting his head under the covers.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're up at seven the next morning for reveille, mess and inspection, followed by six hours of classes and two hours of physical training and sports. Then comes evening mess, formation, and study hall. It's not until twenty-one hundred hours that you have time to pull out the book to re-examine it. You're on your bed, flipping pages, when Carmona comes in. But you've got your back to him, hiding the book with your body, so you ignore him and keep concentrating on the book.<br/>
<br/>
You recognize the first few spells, the ones that you yourself uncovered. The ones that make a mask, the sealant for a mask, and a strip of metal that can copy the inside of someone's brain. It's almost as if the words had imprinted themselves on your mind, so that you don't even need to translate the ingredients and instructions to know what they say.<br/>
<br/>
But someone's been busy with it in the meantime, for more spells have been unlocked. You haven't translated them, to see what they do, but there's only a handful of them before the book's style begins to change. After one very short spell, which takes up only half a page, come pages covered in blocks of print that don't look like ingredients or instructions, and which don't even come with sigils. And then—horrors!—come pages that have sigils but no words!<br/>
<br/>
Page after page you flip deeper into the book, wondering what the spells do, and how much mayhem they've caused.<br/>
<br/>
You've only spent about fifteen minutes on it, though, when there's a tap at the door and Miller puts her head into your room. "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to take a quick walk around the track," she tells you.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you get enough running during the day?" you grumble. But you can't help smiling as you push the book under the covers and roll off the bed to join her.<br/>
<br/>
The soft rush of traffic from the highway lends the otherwise still night air a feeling of restlessness, but the darkness is soothing. The blazing lights of the main hall slant across the grass, but the arc lights are out, and the circular track, when you come to it, is a pool of gray. Side by side, you and Miller take the circle at a brisk pace.<br/>
<br/>
She was one of the first to make friends when, scared and disoriented, you arrived at Fort Putnam. At first you only took her friendliness for pity and charity, because Carmona and most of the other cadets were also encouraging as you adjusted to early hours, quick-time regimentation, inspection and regulation, and (groan) physical activity. But it didn't take you long to realize the twinkle in Miller's grin meant something more.<br/>
<br/>
And because you were lonely, desperate, frightened, and grateful all at once, you pushed away your usual reticence and incredulity, and returned her interest.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you and Miller have been able to do more than exchange a few still-chaste kisses—there's no place on the campus for more than that. And, in truth, there's no hint that she does want more than that. It seems to be enough for her that you're able to sit and touch and lean against each other without embarrassment.<br/>
<br/>
And that's okay with you. Like she mentioned yesterday, your life is complicated enough.<br/>
<br/>
"Have you thought about what you're doing for Christmas?" she asks now. <br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking about just staying here over the break," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want to go home?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know I don't."<br/>
<br/>
She says nothing for another quarter-turn around the track. But it's a pregnant silence, and you tense.<br/>
<br/>
"Damn it, Will," she says softly. "Don't you <i>want</i> to see your real family again? Even if it's just from across the street?"<br/>
<br/>
To continue (non-canonical): "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/111211131122222122222212212112431211" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 2236945">Conversations in the Dark</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/111211131122222122222212212112431211" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a> </span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112431211
author_id: seuzz
title: Conversations in the Dark
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Damn it, Will," Tess Miller says. "Don't you <i>want</i> to see your real family again? Even if it's just from across the street?"<br/>
<br/>
You hang your head and grumble. "What's the freaking point?" you mutter when she asks you to repeat what you said. "They don't even know I'm gone. Hell, they probably like the new kid better."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you freaking say that, Will!" she exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
But it's true. At least you can't help thinking it's true. The "Will Prescott" you left back home (Caleb tells you) tried out for the varsity basketball squad a few weeks back, and though your old carcass is a lot shorter and weaker and his old one, Gordon Black was able to use it to haul himself back onto the team. That's impressive enough, but the mulish Gordon also isn't taking any shit from the bullies who used to harass you, and though he's shuffled into class a few times with bruises and scrapes that you'd never have sported, he seems to be getting more respect too.<br/>
<br/>
Finally—and this is what really makes you think your dad must be overjoyed at his son's personality change—he's taken a job at your father's workplace.<br/>
<br/>
You know better than to argue, though. And maybe she's right. Maybe you're just stressed out. But you tense further when Miller says, "When you go home at Christmas, maybe you could go see that guy that's living in your house? Talk him into giving you your life back? So he could have his back?"<br/>
<br/>
"We've talked about that before," you remind her. "It would be a mess. And then it wouldn't be <i>me</i> coming back here when school starts again."<br/>
<br/>
You hike silently around the track for a bit. Then you feel her hand groping for yours.<br/>
<br/>
"I think you should, Will," she says in a pained voice. "We all love having you out here. But you can't just give up. It's <i>your life</i> you have to get back!"<br/>
<br/>
You squeeze her hand back, but don't reply. It's another half-circuit of the track before she speaks again. "But I guess you're worried about those guys back home. The ones you have to hide from."<br/>
<br/>
All the gut-twisting tension comes welling up, and you almost gag on it. <i>That's what I'm stressed out at,</i> you realize. <i>Those fucking sophomores. They ran me out of town and I've too scared to go back and face them. 'Cos they know where I am and they had the magic book.<br/>
<br/>
But it's come back to me. They can't use it against me, and I can use it to fix things.</i><br/>
<br/>
Abruptly you pull Miller off the track. "Come back with me to my room. I got something to show you."<br/>
<br/>
"We got Taps in about ten minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"That's long enough for me to show you," you tell her. "Then you can sleep on it. <i>I</i> can sleep on it. We can talk about it tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have only five minutes with Miller to show her the book, tell her what it is, and how it got to you. She wants to ask you lots more questions, you can tell, but the scurrying of feet in the halls tells her she has to get back over to the girls' wing. That leaves you alone with Carmona, talking in the dark about masks and magic and people who are not who they appear to be.<br/>
<br/>
He was the first one you unburdened yourself with—even before Tess Miller—in the privacy of the dorm room. It was your second week at the school, and you were feeling homesick. Badly homesick. Timothy Carmona wasn't contemptuous, but he wasn't very sympathetic either, and he told you the best thing to do was to write home—it would make your family feel less distant. You told him you didn't have a family, not anymore, not for real. Marianna Matthias, you told him, was your stepmother, and she was widowed, so she didn't care about you. He told you that sucked and he was sorry for you.<br/>
<br/>
He only made a hard face at you the next night, though, when he caught you on the verge of tears.<br/>
<br/>
And the night after—more out of of spite and anger than because you wanted his help or pity—you told him there was more to your story than what you'd let on. Something so big that you couldn't carry it on your own shoulders anymore. He flinched and tried to withdraw, but you told him that you had to show him, said that if he'd give you ten minutes to show him, he'd want to know more. He looked skeptical as you settled back on your bed and put your hand to your brow and pulled.<br/>
<br/>
He had to try the mask on himself of course, after lights out, and you told him all about the stuff that had happened to you. It freaked him out, but he had a steady nerve, and since then you've had long talks with him about the reality of magic and how it changes everything that you once thought to be true. One night he got real moody, and confessed that he sort of thought you had it all coming to you—what with the way you used the masks to do a body swap with Gordon Black; and it was really a shitty thing what you'd done to Evie Cummings—but he admitted that it was hard for him to judge because he hadn't been there and didn't know what it was like to have a sociopathic basketball player or a psychopathic drug dealer after your ass. Anyway, it seemed like you were being pretty thoroughly punished for your occult crimes. And that was all he had to say on the topic.<br/>
<br/>
About a week later, when it became clear that you and Tess Miller were going to be semi-serious about each other, he insisted that you tell her about it all too. "You never know, man," he said, "you might get yourself out of this shit. And what're you gonna do if you're serious about her and she's serious about Dane Matthias, and then she finds out you're not him?" So together you arranged a meeting time and place so you could show Miller your real face as well.<br/>
<br/>
Strange to say, it didn't really change things between you three. You might have the face and body of Dane Matthias, but it's you and you only under the mask, so it wasn't like Carmona and Miller had to get to know anyone new. And having that kind of secret has only given you an even stronger bond, probably.<br/>
<br/>
But now, with the return of the book ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Don't wait for Christmas, man." Carmona's voice floats softly in the dark. He has to talk softly, for the walls are thin, and everyone is supposed to be asleep. "You can still get home for Thanksgiving. You can put everyone back then."<br/>
<br/>
"So who comes back here when break is over?" you reply. "If everyone's back to being themselves?"<br/>
<br/>
"The real Matthias. Dur."<br/>
<br/>
"Matthias can't handle it out here. I told you what he's like."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll straighten him out. Like we did you."<br/>
<br/>
He says it as a tease, but you make a face anyway. "People are gonna wonder what happened to him," you say. "He's not gonna know what's going on, how to do anything." Your heart beats in your chest. "Maybe I should wait till graduation."<br/>
<br/>
"You need to cut it, and you need to cut it out fast, Prescott. You're in this mess now because you wouldn't fix things when you had the chance."<br/>
<br/>
There sounds a single hard, sharp rap on the wall—a warning from a neighbor that your voices are carrying. You turn onto your stomach and lean out into the space between your bed and Carmona's.<br/>
<br/>
"There could be a huge mess back home," you whisper at him. "Those shitheads down in the sophomore class. Am I supposed to fix everything, including whatever they've done?"<br/>
<br/>
Carmona doesn't answer right away. Your labored breathing fills the darkness. Then he turns over and leans out to meet you in space halfway.<br/>
<br/>
"You gotta take care of your side of things," he says. "After that, if you see a way, you can take care of them. Now go to sleep." He pulls himself with a groan back under his covers. "We can talk about it more tomorrow." The bed creaks as he settles in. He closes things with a muttered, "Miller'll be full of bright ideas too, I bet."<br/>
<br/>
You pull yourself back into your bed. Carmona has a pretty strong, knock-down ethical case for your going back home ASAP. But you're full of practical worries, bad worries that keep you awake until long after he's snoring softly.<br/>
<br/>
Like: If you go back home and take your old place again, Andrew Webb and his friends are going to know it, because although Gordon Black might be able to play varsity-level basketball with your body, you can't. If you go back home, you're going to have to find and disarm them before you go back to being yourself. And that's a pretty tall order.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You're scared," Carmona says the next afternoon as you jog along next to each other around the track. Classes are over, but you've still got two hours of physical exercise to complete before you can go in for a little free time and third mess. But at least the day is winding down.<br/>
<br/>
"Damn right I'm scared," you retort. "Maybe they're only sixteen years old, but they're a couple of psychos."<br/>
<br/>
"They're not psychos," he retorts in turn. "Just assholes. Besides, didn't you tell me you and your friend think they might've killed themselves?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd still have to make sure."<br/>
<br/>
"So make sure." He turns his head to spit over his shoulder. "You're just telling me you're scared to. You want help?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you offering?" you ask, surprised. <br/>
<br/>
"No." He makes a face. "But I got a feeling Miller's gonna shame me into volunteering. She already told me she wants to go back with you to help. And if you're real scared," he adds, "you could tell Bossard what's going on, maybe a few more people. Get <i>lotsa</i> help." But he sounds disgusted as he says it.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121124312112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Prodigal Returns
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sure enough, when you catch up with Miller at third mess, she's in a chirpy, chipper mood and is full of offers to help. The three of you—you, her and Carmona—put your heads together at the corner of one of the side tables.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I don't have to back home for the break," she tells you. "If you want, you know, a friend to go out there with you— And you know," she interrupts herself, "if you're gonna send that other guy back, the, uh, real Dane Matthias—" She turns a little pink, as she always does, when distinguishing between you and the guy you only resemble. "He's gonna need help. Someone to explain what he's coming back to and stuff. I can—"<br/>
<br/>
"That can wait until he gets out here," Carmona interjects. "You don't want to scare him off." He looks over at you with an inquiring expression. "Is he gonna freak out if he comes out here?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Totally. It was hard enough for me. I never seen Dane except when he's baked, and I don't think he was passing any of his classes."<br/>
<br/>
Miller and Carmona continue to quietly argue about whether it's better for Dane to get some warning and preparation before he's hustled back to Fort Putnam. For your part, you wonder if it would be best to let him run off on his own.<br/>
<br/>
That presumes, of course, that you actually return to retake your old life and return the others to theirs. You get a bad clutch of butterflies in your stomach each time you think about it.<br/>
<br/>
And that, finally, is why you allow Miller to talk you into letting her come back to Saratoga Falls with you, and still more it's why you're silently grateful when Carmona (who was going to stay at the school over the break to work on college application materials) offers to come along too. If you didn't get that kind of backup, you're not sure you'd have the guts to go back home at all.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It takes you some serious finagling to scrape up the money for a plane ticket back to Saratoga Falls. Your "stepmom" takes almost a week to reply to your email asking for a ticket, and then it's only to tell you that Duane refuses to spring for one. But Miller and Carmona have a little extra money they can advance you, and you beg and borrow the balance off other classmates. Miller, meanwhile, has to give her parents a story about switching Thanksgiving plans so she can visit the campus of a prospective college.<br/>
<br/>
But it all works out, and when Saturday the twenty-second comes, the three of you are on an American Airlines flight to Chicago, where you change to a commuter jet to Saratoga Falls.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It's like stepping out of a time machine,</i> you think as you ride the airport shuttle into downtown Saratoga Falls. When you left it was still late summer, with heavy green leaves weighing down every tree, under a sun still hot enough to tempt you into t-shirts and cargo shorts. Now, a cold, slanting rain slashes at the shuttle van's windows, and the bird-like Tess Miller hugs herself against temperatures that (if the forecast is right) will barely tap at the underside of fifty degrees. Those few trees that don't scratch at the clouds with bare branches shiver under a thin, bedraggled blanket of brown. You didn't expect fireworks on your return. But the miserable weather is foreboding. The forecast is for snow on Thanksgiving Day itself.<br/>
<br/>
The van drops you off downtown in front of the convention center, where you're able to catch a cab down to your motel. Miller's family sent her some money to cover her expenses while visiting the Keyserling College campus, but though they were generous, the money isn't really enough to support three people. So although you technically have a week to sort things out, you know that you've really only got a couple of days—the rest of the weekend, and Monday and Tuesday, before the high school lets out for the break—to get things back to normal.<br/>
<br/>
To stretch expenses, you reserved a room at best "cheap" motel you could find online. It turns out to be an old, shabby motor court clinging to life on the southern edge of the city, but the room you're given is clean and well-kept, though it has a stale smell. Miller crinkles her nose and remarks that the last few occupants clearly didn't smoke their cigarettes outside.<br/>
<br/>
After leaving your bags in the room, the three of you walk up the street to the Sunshine Diner for an early supper. A short, slight blonde kid about your age meets you at the host's station, and he's leading you back toward a booth when he suddenly wheels and fixes you with a startled look. "Dane?" he says. "Good God! <i>Matthias?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, hey!" you exclaim, and feel the sweat pop out on your brow. You hope this guy isn't one of Matthias's best friends.<br/>
<br/>
"When'd'ju get back to town?" the kid says. His eyes and grin both gleam. <br/>
<br/>
"Today. Just now." You jerk your chin at a south-facing window. "Stayin' at the Layzee-Nites."<br/>
<br/>
"Not with your mom?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well." You shrug and run your hand over your close-cropped buzz cut. "Things change."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess they do." The kid gestures you and your companions into a booth. "I almost didn't recognize you." He chews on half a grin. "So how come you didn't recognize me?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel the color drain from your face. "Oh, um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Dane's just embarrassed," Miller says, leaping in as she snuggles up close to you. "He was, like, I don't wanna go home, my friends aren't gonna know it's me." You suck down your upper lip and nod in agreement.<br/>
<br/>
"So wha'd you come home for, then?" the kid asks. "You're not gonna see your mom, not gonna see your friends. The hell's the point?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I'm gonna go see 'em," you protest. "I just feel weird is all." You pull Miller closer to you. "Oh, these are some guys from Fort Putnam. They didn't have anything better to do, so they came out with me. That's Tim Carmona," you say, nodding at your roommate in the booth opposite. "And this—" You put your arm around her shoulders. "This is Tess Miller."<br/>
<br/>
"Nice." The kid passes out the menus. "Get whatever you guys want, this one's on the house. Be back with some coffee," he adds, and is away before you can protest.<br/>
<br/>
"One of Dane's friends?" Carmona asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck if I know," you mutter. "Damn. Used to, I'd just try bluffing him by pretending to be baked out of my skull. Can't do that now."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll eat and we'll go," Carmona says.<br/>
<br/>
But Dane's friend has other ideas, and after bringing you your order he slides in next to Carmona. "So what they got ya doin' out there, man?" he asks as he leans both elbows on the table top. "I don't think I ever seen you sober."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug weakly. "They got me straightened up real fast," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Matthias flunked his first inspection," Carmona interjects. "But after being put on a five-mile hike with thirty pounds in his pack, he never flunked again." He grins at you as he stabs a juicy sausage with his fork.<br/>
<br/>
"Carmona's my roommate," you tell your host. "He doesn't let me get away with shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, are you on break now? Whaddaya call it, R&amp;R?"<br/>
<br/>
"Thanksgiving break," Carmona dryly informs him.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you're on break, you should come out to Colson's tonight." The kid grins as he leans across the table to run his palm over your shorn head. "Try to let your hair out."<br/>
<br/>
You jerk away. "I don't know if that's a good idea."<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, man, everyone's gonna wanna see you. I'm gonna tell them about you, and they're gonna freak out when they hear." He waggles his eyebrows. "Prescott and his posse o' pussy are gonna be there."<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott?" you say, and a thrill runs down your back.<br/>
<br/>
The conversation lags for a beat. Then the kid nods.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh right, I guess he didn't start hanging out with us until after you left. Will Prescott, remember him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know who he is." That thrill down your spine turns into a hard shiver.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he started hanging out with us. Dude's got pussy trailing after him like cats after tuna fish." He squirms. "I ain't too proud, I picked up some of what he's kicked away. But some of those girls liked you, man, you know?" He waggles his eyebrows again. "You show up tonight— Shit! Some of them'll be begging for a three-way, if sharing you's the only way—"<br/>
<br/>
He catches himself and pales. You follow his glance, and realize he must have caught the expression on Miller's face. Your own cock, which had been hardening, quickly deflates.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, everyone's gonna wanna see you," the kid stammers as he scoots out of the booth before Miller can fry him with her high beams. "Bring your friends out. You don't wanna be stuck in a motel room on a Saturday night, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
No you don't, especially when you're on a schedule and have a lot of jobs you need to get done.<br/>
<br/>
But back in the room afterward, you only allude to the party idea once under Miller's frosty gaze. "It sounds like the perfect place to get in contact with Gordon Black," you observe. "I mean, if I'm going to go back to being myself." You trail off.<br/>
<br/>
Carmona nods, but Miller says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, there's the very practical worry—which you discussed with them quietly on the plane—about returning to your life without first having tracked down Andrew Webb and his friends. That had been one of the original plans you'd talked about: Going out to Webb's house and confronting whoever or whatever was there.<br/>
<br/>
But you also talked about being more indirect. Caleb knows all about the switch, but you haven't told him yet that you're coming back to town. Perhaps you should make contact with him first.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211243121121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Life of the Party
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There's not much talk in the motel room as you mull your options. A quick strike against Andrew Webb or one of his friends might give you a quick lead on what they've been up to in your absence. Talking to Caleb would give you another ally on the ground.<br/>
<br/>
But you decide on the third option—to go to this party and get a look at the person that "Will Prescott" has become. If he's changed so much, then you want to know how different he is. <br/>
<br/>
Because that might change your mind about creeping back into your old life.<br/>
<br/>
That's not what you tell Carmona and Miller, though, when you tell them your decision. <br/>
<br/>
"I want to talk to this guy," you explain. "Tell him that help is here, that things are gonna get fixed." You knead your fingers. "Maybe—" Your mouth is dry, and you have to swallow before you can finish. "Maybe we make a switch back now, tonight."<br/>
<br/>
Carmona nods. But Miller looks hurt and skeptical.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Dane! <i>Whooooooo!"</i> The kid standing in the doorway throws his head back and howls.<br/>
<br/>
He's a tousle-headed goober, with fluffy brown hair and a stoner's drooping eyes. The cigarette between his slim fingers dangles an inch of ash off its end as he puts out his free hand to give you a complicated handshake. "You're rusty, man," he laughs. "Rusty and crusty. And the fuck happened to your hair?" He wobbles on his feet as he reaches out to rub your close-shorn scalp.<br/>
<br/>
The party is down in the student ghetto south of the Keyserling campus. It's a tiny, cramped house built of whitewashed cinderblock, looking more like a bunker than a bungalow. A hard-edged beat pounds out of the open door into the cold night air, but inside it's as hot as a greenhouse. A dozen or more kids are jammed in the living room, pushed up into the corners or sandwiched atop each other on a tiny sofa.<br/>
<br/>
You and your friends were late getting there, for you had to return to the diner to hook up with the guy who invited you, and he had to stay until closing time. It's nearing midnight now as you enter Terry Colson's place. But that means the party is just starting to get good.<br/>
<br/>
There's too many names and faces to keep track of, and there's only a few you know and remember from school. You make a point of introducing them to Carmona and Miller, which forces them to introduce themselves back, and in this way you're able to figure out that Terry Colson himself is the fluffy-headed smoker who pulled you inside; that the girl in the leopard-skin jacket is Rebecca Sykes; that the pallid kid with the shaved head is a Mark Zimsomething; and that the girl with Will Prescott's arm draped around her shoulders is Ceres Kesey.<br/>
<br/>
Your cock can't help but stiffen when you see the girl that your replacement has reeled in. <i>That could be me with her,</i> you think, and you can barely tear your eyes away, even though you know you should be concentrating on her squeeze.<br/>
<br/>
She has cornflower-blue eyes and limp blonde hair that trails to the top of her breasts. She sports a retro-style red-print bandana like something a hippie folk-rock singer would have worn back in the 70s, and she wears a floppy long-sleeve tie-dyed shirt under a leather vest. Her pants are soft, baggy brown things with a drawstring at the front; ragged sandals enclose her feet.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'd just have to unknot the drawstring, and all her clothes would fall off,</i> you think. <i>And then I could go in.</i> Your cock starts to throb.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Prescott!" You grin at your replacement as you sidle up. The girl lifts her head off his shoulder to give you a bleary-eyed glance, but you try not to look at  her. "Heard you're making out great on the basketball squad!"<br/>
<br/>
You hardly recognize the guy you used to be. The stiff, straw-like hair that used to curl over your eyebrows and ears has been chopped back into a short but lush crewcut fronted by a tight wave over the forehead. The face is leaner than the one you remember looking back at you out of a mirror, and the eyes are harder. He doesn't hunch, either, but holds himself with his shoulders back and his chest out. He's wearing an extra-large, sleeveless muscle shirt.<br/>
<br/>
Prescott turns to give you a quick, bored, hooded look. "'Sup, man," he mutters before turning his face to Ceres's. He puts his nose close to hers, and pulls her in. <i>Jesus,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Matthias." A hand settles on your shoulder. "Lori wants to say hi."<br/>
<br/>
"In a minute. I wanna catch up with Prescott here."<br/>
<br/>
Hearing his name, your replacement back over at you. There's infinite distance inside that gaze. And nowhere in that infinity is there a spark of either interest or pity.<br/>
<br/>
You allow yourself to be pulled away to talk to a girl with blue hair, who squeals and throws her arms around your neck.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"This is a bad idea," you tell Miller as the roar of male voices rises within the house. It's after two, and you're huddling outside with her in a darkened corner of the lot. "I should go in and—"<br/>
<br/>
"It was your idea to come out here," she retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't my idea to start a fight!"<br/>
<br/>
Which is what Carmona is inside doing. Having made no headway in getting "Prescott" alone, you were bitching to him about how useless the night has turned out. After wandering off to get himself a third (or sixth?) beer, he came back five minutes ago to say he knew how to get Prescott for you. "Just go outside and wait," he told you. When you wondered aloud what he was going to do, Miller matter-of-factly told you he was going to pick a fight with your replacement. "Stepping outside" would lead to a jog down to a vacant lot, where you'd be able to jump him and get the mask off.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It must be a Putnam Academy thing,</i> you decide. <i>How else does Miller know what Carmona is up to.</i><br/>
<br/>
There's a shrill <i>Fuck you, man!</i> from inside, and you pull away from Miller, determined to intervene. But it's too late. The front door bangs open and Prescott and Carmona barge out. "Come at me, fucker," Prescott says as he wheels on your roommate.<br/>
<br/>
"Down the street," Carmona retorts. "Rest of you, back inside!" he shouts at the crowd that's spilled out into front yard.<br/>
<br/>
Cries go up: "Don't be an asshole!" "He's gonna kick your ass, man!" "Will!" Miller restrains you from running over.<br/>
<br/>
"Psh!" Prescott throws his hands in the air and stalks away. Carmona runs after and grabs him. Prescott swings around with his fist, and just like that, they tumble into some of the parked cars and sink down onto the ground.<br/>
<br/>
Now Miller can't hold you. "Get back! Get back!" you holler at the crowd as you dive between them and the combatants. "I'll take care of this! Miller!" Behind you, as you turn to concentrate on the fighters, you see your bantam-weight girlfriend jump in to push at the crowd. She seems to take special relish in shoving Lori Sherman.<br/>
<br/>
You sink to your knees next to Carmona, who has pinned the cursing Prescott to the ground. "Hold him for m?" you mutter. He nods and says, "Get his face off."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. Carmona has no idea how big Gordon is.<br/>
<br/>
So you twist around to grapple with his shoes first. "Jesus, man, what are you doing?" Carmona grunts as Prescott twists and bats at him. "You're at the wrong end!" But it doesn't take you long to yank your replacement's shoes off—though he tries kicking you in the face—and you scramble around to lay your hands on his face. He snarls and tries to bite you. Your fingers slip the first time you try pulling at the mask, but the second time is a charm. The boy beneath Carmona is suddenly very still.<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, guys!" you holler as you jump back out into the open. "They just need to talk it out!"<br/>
<br/>
"Your friend's a real psycho," one of the partygoers yells. "They all like that back at your school?" yells another. <i>Dane Matthias isn't going to be real popular with his old friends after tonight,</i> you reflect as you herd them back into the house.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, he's big," Carmona grunts when you and Miller rejoin him. You can't make out Gordon's face real good in the dark, but the form looks about right: tall, barrel-chested, and hulking. "You're not gonna be able to hold him after he wakes up," you warn your roommate.<br/>
<br/>
"So what are we going to do?" Miller asks.<br/>
<br/>
You study the guy who has been living—and completely rearranging—your life over the last two months.<br/>
<br/>
"We talk to him," you reply. "Tell him the nightmare's almost over."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You heard what I said," Gordon mutters. "If it's up to me, you give me that thing back"—he points to the mask you pulled off him—"and let me go back to the party."<br/>
<br/>
You couldn't believe your ears the first time he said it, so you asked him to repeat it. After waking him up, letting him get used to having his body back, and briefly explaining that you're the cavalry come to put everything right, Gordon Black had told you he wanted to go back to being "Will Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"My old life sucked donkey balls," he growls. "I like this new one. Fuck off and mind your own goddamn business."</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112431211211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Hidden
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Gordon won't hear a word about giving up the life of "Will Prescott." "Fuck off and mind your own business," he growls when you try impressing on him that he can go back to his old life if he wants. <br/>
<br/>
"Why didn't you tell him who you really are?" Carmona asks later, when you've made a disorderly retreat to the motel room. It's nearly three in the morning, but you're all too wired and cranky to sleep. "You coulda pulled rank on him."<br/>
<br/>
You make a sour face. Grateful as you are to Carmona and to all he's done for you, sometimes he can really step on your nerve. <br/>
<br/>
"It's not gonna be that easy," you retort. "I can still make the end game, but maybe we should tackle the other end first. Find the guys who had the book, work backwards, deal with Gordon last."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't got a lot of time. Or money," Carmona reminds you.<br/>
<br/>
"So we're on a schedule and a budget. Tomorrow's Sunday, we got all day to go talk to some of Matthias's old friends, get a lead on anyone who's been acting weird." You glance over at your luggage, where the grimoire is packed away. "Get a grip on what we can do about it."<br/>
<br/>
Carmona gives a you very level look, then grunts. A little later, as he's brushing his teeth in the bathroom, Miller snuggles up close to you on the bed. "Is that what you were like when you lived here?" she asks. "Like that guy back at the party?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
She sucks in her upper lip. "I'm glad," she says. "I didn't like him."<br/>
<br/>
"He had a personality change," you assure her. But you hunch your shoulders in worry over the corollary. "He's going to have to have another personality change when I switch back."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't reply. Then Carmona comes out and it's your turn to brush your teeth. Afterward, you and he bunk down in one of the twin beds, while Miller takes the other.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's almost noon before you stir the next day, and only Miller takes a shower before the three of you head out to hit the Sunshine Diner again for lunch. Sean Wilcox—that's the host's name, you found out last night at the party—isn't scheduled to come in until four, however, so that sets your plans back by a few hours, and you eat a relatively quiet meal.<br/>
<br/>
It's just as well, for your head hurts.<br/>
<br/>
It's not a headache, not exactly. It's more like really intense brainwaves—bright flashes in your brain that blaze and fade, leaving behind intricate afterimages. At first you try to ignore and suppress them, figuring it's just anxiety and a lack of sleep. But pretty soon there's no denying what you're seeing in your head. Those maze-like pinwheels of light aren't just random hallucinations. They are sigils, like the ones in the book.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it figures that you'd be getting visions of them. Maybe it's like when you play video games for hours at a time, and still see the screen and the images hours after shutting down the computer or game box. Back at Putnam, in the days before break started, you pored over the book, trying to decipher the spells.<br/>
<br/>
There were only a handful that you could understand, because only a handful came with explanatory text. Those were disturbing enough. One used graveyard earth and a lot of chemicals to create a thing called a <i>pedisequos,</i> which sounds like an earthen mannequin that can wear a mask. There's another spell that also makes a <i>pedisequos</i>, but it uses a human corpse (it sounds like) instead of graveyard earth. Why there should be two spells that make the same kind of thing you can't fathom, unless the book is just being very ugly and nasty about making you play with corpses if you want to have fun.<br/>
<br/>
The last spell you can make sense of is the oddest and obscurest. It makes a paste that can be put inside a mask. You suppose the explanation would make sense if you made the stuff and played with it, but you're not sure you understand when it says that it can be used to "make a <i>pedisequos</i> but only for a time" before "restoring he upon whom the mask is placed."<br/>
<br/>
After that, the book devolves into gobbledygook and mystery. Pages caked in Latin words that don't even form coherent sentences, and sigils that take up a full page and are never explained. But there must be a way of deciphering them, because those freaking sophomores managed to.<br/>
<br/>
You're cranky when you finish eating, and so are the others. So instead of hanging out together and getting on each other's nerves, you part for the few hours before Sean is due to come in. Carmona and Miller go for a long walk up Twentieth Street, while you sack out in the motel room to take a nap.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's three-thirty before your friends get back from their walk, and they find you huddled on the bed with the grimoire in your lap. Carmona swerves in mid-stride when you look up with a fierce frown.<br/>
<br/>
It's not him you're mad at. You're not mad at all. Just concentrated. Fiercely.<br/>
<br/>
You've been having dreams since the book returned to you, but none were as intense as the one you had when you laid down for your nap. It was an abstract nightmare, intensely vivid, full of blazing sigils, like the ones you keep getting in those afterimages. They were still there, seeming to hang in the air before your eyes, when you woke.<br/>
<br/>
You also woke with the fearful certainty that you understand some of the spells better.<br/>
<br/>
"They're for making fake people," you explain to your friends after Carmona has returned from a corner convenience store with some aspirin for you. "You can check the Latin yourself. It's hard to figure out, but I know that's what it says." So firm is your tone that neither of them gainsay you.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what the difference is between these two," you continue, flipping between the two spells that each make a <i>pedisequos,</i> "except for the recipe. But they make a thing like a mannequin. You can put a mask on it, and it turns into a copy of the person in the mask. Like if I put Matthias's mask on one, it would turn into a copy of Matthias. Like making a clone," you continue as their brows furrow. "One you can order around like a robot." You don't add that if you got rid of the original, you'd be able to substitute the clone.<br/>
<br/>
"But this is the scary one." You tap at the last legible spell in the book. "It lets you turn <i>other</i> people into clones." You struggle to put into words the explanation that came to you in the nightmare. "You make a mask of someone, and it puts a kind of spell onto it. If you put the mask on someone else—like onto you or me—it turns you into a copy of that person. Only it makes you forget who you are, so that you act just like that person. And you're a robot, too, so you can be ordered around."<br/>
<br/>
"I still don't get it," Carmona says.<br/>
<br/>
You draw a deep breath. "Say I made a mask of myself, and cast this spell on it, then I put it on you. You'd turn into me. Only you wouldn't remember that you're really Tim Carmona. You'd think you're me, and you'd act like me. And you'd have to obey me. And if at the same time I made a mask of—" You lick your lips. "Well, of <i>you,</i> I could switch places with you. I'd be you and you'd be me. Only, you'd be like a robot, and have to do what I tell you.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you see?" you continue when they continue to look puzzled. "With this spell, Webb and his friends could switch places with anyone and turn the other people into robot clones of themselves. They'd know how to act like the people they're pretending to be, and their replacements would also act normal. We'd never be able to spot them!"<br/>
<br/>
"So you're saying we just give up?" Miller says after a heavy silence has settled over the room. "There's no point in looking for them, because we'd never find them?"<br/>
<br/>
"If we can pull your face off Gordon Black," Carmona says with an outthrust lip, "we can pull the faces off Red Team," he says, using the school jargon for "the other side." "We were going to do that anyway, right? We find your guy Webb, or whoever, pull his face off, and if he's one of these robots we'll find someone under the mask. That'll be one of the guys Red Team is pretending to be, and we'll go find them."<br/>
<br/>
"Except I don't know what these other spells do." You flip forward in the book. "I don't know how complicated this stuff can get. Maybe that won't work. Maybe it'll set off alarms."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do we do?" Carmona asks. He is starting sound surly.<br/>
<br/>
You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes. You feel like you saw more than just the sigils in that dream; you feel like you saw around corners  into the future. But you can't remember what you saw, and only have a vague sense of the direction that you were pulled in.<br/>
<br/>
"We need to be careful," you say. "Slow and careful. Because we don't know what we're up against."<br/>
<br/>
"We've got a budget and a schedule," Carmona reminds you.<br/>
<br/>
"We've got all the time and money in the world," you retort, "if we use this spell." You point to the scary one. Carmona's eyes harden as you explain it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You expected him to instantly reject it, and for Miller to reject it too. You were completely prepared to surrender, and to go looking for Andrew Webb. But after a mulish interval, first Carmona and the Miller agreed that it would work, and might be best.<br/>
<br/>
You will re-infiltrate Saratoga Falls by swapping places with other people, and you will send them back to Putnam, as obedient clones, under your faces. After you've neutralized the adversary, you will undo all the swaps.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121124312112111
author_id: seuzz
title: To Teach His Own
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Carmona and Miller are willing to along with your idea for infiltrating the high school using masks, but they've accepted it with something like a brusque determination. Miller, particularly, has the unhappy expression of someone who's being swept up in something she doesn't quite approve of. <br/>
<br/>
But it's Carmona—a leather-skinned rugby player and a 4.0-point honors student back at Putnam—who takes charge of the planning.<br/>
<br/>
"So if I get this right," he says, "we're going to need, what, six masks? One for each of us to wear, and one to put on the poor assholes we're gonna be impersonating?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Plus the stuff we need to make the, uh, enchantment to put on those other masks."<br/>
<br/>
"How much is it gonna set us back?"<br/>
<br/>
"No idea," you confess. "I'd have to make up a list and go to the store. But I don't think the masks are going to cost us more than sixty or seventy dollars." You don't mention that your estimate is based on experience. "The other stuff, I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
Carmona grunts and checks the time. "We already owe on tonight's room rental. But if we get started tonight, maybe we can check out tomorrow. I don't want to sleep on the street if we need the rest of our cash stash to pay for the stuff."<br/>
<br/>
You pull out a piece of paper and start jotting down a shopping list.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It would save time but cost too much in cab fare to split up and hit multiple shops at once. You split the difference instead, taking into one cab around town, dropping each of you off at a different store or district while the others race ahead to the next stop. After leaving Carmona downtown and Miller at the mall, and you hit a shopping center on the west side, then head down to the Masonic cemetery to scoop a few pounds of dirt from off a grave. (This necessary stop you haven't mentioned to the others; you're not sure Miller can hold herself together if you told her that necromancy might be involved.) Then you circle back around town to pick up the others, who are patiently waiting at the agreed upon meeting places, the return to the motel. When all is said and done, the cab ride is the most expensive item in the ledger.<br/>
<br/>
Casting the masks will stink up the place, so you take the stuff outside to an empty lot behind the motel, where crumbling patches of a cement foundation peep out between the stiff weeds, stickers, and trash. You huddle around the burner to hide your work, so you all get a face-full of the noxious smoke. Once is enough for Miller, who retreats to stand a few yards off with her shirt pulled up over her nose and mouth, but Carmona gets in and gets his hands dirty alongside you as you cast the other five masks. Back inside, Carmona polishes up the masks with a car buffer while you and Miller carve runes into the metal bands that will copy the memories and personalities of the people you'll be impersonating.<br/>
<br/>
And who will those be? It doesn't take long for you and Carmona (Miller keeps quiet) to settle on using teachers at Westside as your infiltration point.<br/>
<br/>
It makes the most sense. As teachers you'll have uninhibited access to the school, before and after classes, and will be able to move through it unmolested. You'll have access to lots of different classes with lots of different students to investigate. You'll be able to pull students aside and isolate them. And as adults, you'll have money and independence.<br/>
<br/>
Getting to the teachers, though, is going to be a problem. Not until the next morning, when Carmona with a vexed sigh, says he's going to go for a run, does it come to you how you can corner and isolate one.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Do we need to check in with the main office?" Carmona asks as the three of you stride across the student parking lot toward Westside High. It gives you a weird kind of deja vu to be back here. On the one hand, nothing could be more familiar than the sight of the blue-and-white walls of the gym and drama wing that loom up in front of you. On the other, you're conscious that's it's been almost two months since you've been here, and that you're returning under an alias. "Will?" Carmona repeats when you (too wrapped up in your thoughts) don't immediately reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? No. Not unless you want the administration to know they got a couple of strangers on campus."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you got security that's going to stop us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pff. No. There's one old guard that putters around the front doors, but it's an open campus, and anyone can get in and out."<br/>
<br/>
Carmona snorts at that.<br/>
<br/>
The shout of voices and the squeak of shoes erupts as you pull open the double doors to the gym. Carmona pauses in the vestibule to study the display case of trophies and team photographs—going all the way back to the seventies—before following you to the left into one of the gym courts. A pack of students—freshmen, it looks like— in t-shirts and shorts is jogging around the perimeter under the watchful eye of Coach Puente. You catch her glancing in your direction as you lead your friends over to the mezzanine, but she doesn't call or stop you.<br/>
<br/>
Atop the mezzanine, which separates the two basketball courts, is the weights area, but within it are the offices of the P.E. staff. That's the idea that came to you back at the motel. Most of the P.E. teachers will out with their classes, but those with a free period will be isolated, in their office, in a building that is itself cut off from the rest of the school.<br/>
<br/>
Silently your trio pad down the central corridor, glancing at the names on the doors as you pass: Coach Brooks, Coach Gossett, Coach Carter, Coach Gellman. You stop in front of the latter door to try the handle. Locked. That's too bad. He's the soccer coach, and under his identity you could get to Andrew Webb.<br/>
<br/>
Only two doors are open. The first belongs to Coach Tesla, and you quickly pull Carmona and Miller past it. Beggars can't be choosers, but none of you, you're sure, would want to impersonate that baggy-faced toad-lady. Instead, you push on to the very end of the corridor, where a crack of light spills out from behind the half-open door of Coach Puente's office. You push it open and peer inside.<br/>
<br/>
The coach is sitting at her desk, bent toward her open laptop and tapping the keyboard with such furious concentration that she doesn't even notice you. She's a Hispanic woman of about thirty, you'd guess, with mocha-colored skin and black hair that falls in a straight line to just below her shoulders. She's wearing a blue spandex top that binds itself tightly to her boobs.<br/>
<br/>
You motion behind for one of your compatriots to hand you a mask. The gesture must have caught the coach's attention, for she looks up with a start.<br/>
<br/>
You grin at her. "Ay! Coach Puente!" you exclaim, doing your best to imitate Dane Matthias's goofball personality. "You remember me!" You feel the sweat pop out on your forehead as she only stares at you. "Dane! Matthias! The Danester! You had me, uh, freshman year in P.E.!" (You've no idea if she did.) "I came back to say hi!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hi Dane," she says, and still she doesn't blink. "Can I help you?" Her brow furrows as she peers past you. "Did you graduate?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I changed schools. Din'cha hear? I got packed off to a military school!" You snap your fingers behind your back, and someone finally pushes a mask into your hand. "This is my Thanksgiving break, so I came back to check in and say hi to people!" You saunter up to her desk.<br/>
<br/>
She pulls back fractionally, and her expression tightens. "That's great, Dane," she says. "But—"<br/>
<br/>
You wheel onto Carmona and Miller. "Shut the door, okay, so we can have some privacy?" you tell them. Miller is very pale, and she stumbles a little as she turns to push the door shut. When you turn back around again, the coach is also looking alarmed.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I need your help," you tell her as you lean across her desk. She pulls away as you put a knee up on it and stretch yourself toward her. "There's some bad dudes on the loose in Westside and we need—"<br/>
<br/>
She ducks her face as you thrust the mask at her, and you fall forward, losing your balance. But your blow lands true, and your fingers grasp her forehead as the mask dissolves into her face.<br/>
<br/>
"We need one of us to be you," you conclude with a murmur as you recover yourself. The coach, her disordered hair draping over her face, slumps and slides onto the floor. Miller backs into a far corner of the room, and in a frightened, bird-like chirp, mutters "Oh my God oh my God oh my God!" over and over until Carmona silences her with a sharp word.<br/>
<br/>
You step around the desk and bend down to straighten out Coach Puente's prone body. Below the waist, you find, she's dressed in blue athletic shorts, ankle socks, and sneakers. Her flesh is warm and soft to the touch.<br/>
<br/>
"What happens now?" Carmona asks as he bends over you and the coach.<br/>
<br/>
"We wait for the mask to copy her, then we seal it up and switch places with her." You've already made masks and brain-bands for Carmona and Miller, and Dane's mask has a band copying your own brain and personality inside. Those masks are also coated with the special sealant that puts them under the control of you and your friends, so that you can turn the coach and the two other impersonations into obedient copies of yourselves that you can send back to Putnam.<br/>
<br/>
"So who puts it on?" Carmona asks, and he glances over his shoulder at Miller. She has her hands over her nose and mouth, and looks like she's trying hard not to hyperventilate.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211243121121112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Miller's Tale
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Coach Puente should be knocked out for about ten minutes. But Miller looks like she's going to throw up <i>right now.</i><br/>
<br/>
In three steps you're by her side with your arm around her. "Are you okay?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She gulps and nods. But then she shakes her head, and sags against you.<br/>
<br/>
"The coach is okay," you assure her. "She's just knocked out. I mean, asleep."<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of a rough thing, though," Carmona says. He stalks over to the office door and pushes it shut. "You look like you got practice at this, man."<br/>
<br/>
Miller shrinks up inside your embrace, and in that moment you could almost kill your roommate.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you I did some stupid shit," you snipe at him over your shoulder. "But this is all about putting it right, you know?" You turn back to Miller. "You said you were going to help," you murmur. An ache starts to spread through your chest when she doesn't reply. <i>This is too much for her,</i> you think. And maybe her horror is infectious, because you feel yourself getting nauseated as well.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," you say when the silence has gotten oppressive, "if this is too much for you, you don't have to help. We— Tim and I'll handle it. You can hang out at— at whatever place we wind up crashing."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," Carmona says. "You can fly back out to Putnam. Will and I'll stay here and take care of things."<br/>
<br/>
You feel Miller tensing. "It'll be okay," you tell her again.<br/>
<br/>
"We need to do any more prep work?" Carmona asks. He's now squatting beside the prostrate coach.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Just need to— Well, we'll need to strip her. And I guess we can rock-paper-scissor to see who puts on the mask." You put out your fist. "On three. One, two— Whatsamatter?" you ask as Carmona stares at you from under a sharply cocked eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jeez Lou-eeze!" Miller suddenly snorts and pushes you away, to stalk over to where Carmona is crouching. "Keep your hands off her. I'll undress her myself."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" Carmona backs up. "I know my way around a female's—"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up!" Miller slaps him in the stomach. "Coupla perverts is what you guys are." She kneels next to Coach Puente. "I'll take her clothes off. And I'll put the mask on. You pervs turn around. Go find a bathroom or someplace to hide out in till I'm done." With something like ferocity she starts tugging the shoes off the coach's feet.<br/>
<br/>
You and Carmona exchange a wondering glance. "I told you," you start to say, "you don't have to—"<br/>
<br/>
"I said I'd stay and help, okay? What, suddenly you don't want me around? I can handle it if you two per— <i>assholes</i> can!" She mutters under her breath.<br/>
<br/>
Carmona sucks in his cheeks, shoves his hands into his pockets, and gives you a look as Miller starts tugging at the coach's shorts. But he doesn't say anything, and neither do you.<br/>
<br/>
And Miller—being one-hundred-thousand-percent invested in showing that she's as much of a badass as you and Carmona—concentrates on stripping Coach Puente down to her underthings, and neither speaks nor lifts her face until she's done.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Perverts or not, you and Carmona stay with her the whole time. You, to supervise the final touches to the coach's mask when it comes out of her, and Carmona to— Well, probably to ogle the naked coach and to annoy Miller with his presence. She finally throws him out, though, when you announce that Miller herself will need to strip down so that her duplicate can take her clothes.<br/>
<br/>
"You can stay, Will," she says as you start to follow Carmona out the door. "You know, to make sure I do this right."<br/>
<br/>
"You'll do fine."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>want</i> you to stay." There's steel in her voice, and as he edges out the door Carmona gives you the kind of look one guy gives to another when he thinks he might be seeing his friend alive for the last time. The door clicks shut behind him with the snicker-snack of a falling guillotine blade.<br/>
<br/>
Miller's face is blotchy with patches of rose and chalk, and her hair, though still done up in its tiny bun, looks windswept. She's got her hands on her hips, and her lips are compressed so tightly they've disappeared. <br/>
<br/>
"Will," she says. You nod when she doesn't continue. She blinks. Then she looks away. "Oh, nothing," she grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"No, you can tell me."<br/>
<br/>
"It's nothing." She glares into a corner of the room, and takes a deep breath. "I just can't believe we're doing this."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, you don't have to."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not the point!" She swings sharply onto you. "It's this!" She flings her hand at the unconscious coach, and at the finished mask now sitting on the corner of the desk. "It's what we're doing! It's what <i>you're</i> doing!" A shadow flashes across her throat as she swallows. "It's what you <i>did.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, what I'm doing right now." You point to your face, which is starting to burn.<br/>
<br/>
She nods, and her expression lengthens.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were really sweet," she says. "Oh, hell, I <i>know</i> that you're really sweet. And with your ... your <i>thing.</i> You know." She gestures vaguely at her own face. "It made you sweeter, somehow. I thought you were like the frog prince or whoever in the fairy tale. The Beast in Beauty and the Beast." Her expression turns pinched. "You know. Like it wasn't your fault."<br/>
<br/>
You feel an ache in your own throat.<br/>
<br/>
"But you did it to yourself," she continues.<br/>
<br/>
"You knew that."<br/>
<br/>
"I know! Only <i>this</i> made it real. What you did to the coach. The way you—" She bites her lip.<br/>
<br/>
"The way it was like I had a lot of practice," you finish for her.<br/>
<br/>
She nods. It hurts to see her being so honest. But you're glad, too. It gets things out in the open. "It's okay," she starts to say, but you interrupt her.<br/>
<br/>
"But it isn't. Me and Caleb were being really stupid, just goofing off. And then we panicked. <i>I</i> panicked. But now it's worse than anything, probably, and I have to fix it." Your face feels very heavy, like it's going to slide off the front of your skull, as you confess your stupidities and perversities.<br/>
<br/>
"I know," she says, sounding as grave as you feel. "That's why I'm going along with it. Why I'm going to help."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Will," she sighs, but she smiles a wry smile too. "You <i>are</i> sweet. Sweet and stupid." She grabs you in a hug. "That's how come you're in this trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"And you're gonna help me out. 'Cos you're smart and tough."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right." She punches you lightly in the kidney. "Someone's got to keep an eye on you and Carmona so you don't get into trouble. Okay?" She sighs after giving you one last squeeze. "So what comes next?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Miller crouches down behind the desk where you can't see her, and drops her clothes one article at a time onto the desk top. When she's done, you hand her the mask of herself that you made back at the motel, then scramble back against the far wall. Your heart in your throat, you wait to see the results.<br/>
<br/>
It starts with a rustle and a murmuring from behind the desk. Then there's a strained cry of "Oh jeez!" and "Oh my God!" and a squeak. You can't tell for sure, but it might be two voices rather than one.<br/>
<br/>
Then Miller says, "Will?" You edge up to the desk, going up on tiptoes to peer over the top as two heads peep out at you. "I think it worked," one of the girls says in a strangled voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Miller?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," two voices say in unison. They exchange uneasy glances.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, Miller, the real Miller? You have to be the boss. I mean, you <i>are</i> the boss. But you have to act like it."<br/>
<br/>
"Do I have to?"<br/>
<br/>
But the other Miller slaps at the one who spoke. "He's talking to me, you ... Fake!" The first one drops her eyes. "How do I do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think you just did. Tell it to get dressed."<br/>
<br/>
"Get dressed," Miller says (though she sounds uncertain). "My clothes. I put them up on—"<br/>
<br/>
"I remember where I put them!" A hand jumps out to pull Miller's clothes off the desk. "And they're my clothes too, you now."<br/>
<br/>
"Only for now. Oh, God!" There's a sound of scrambling from behind the desk. "Tell me when you're done! I don't want to look!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It's gross looking at her!"<br/>
<br/>
"Ditto," says the other.<br/>
<br/>
"You're the ditto!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just get dressed," you snap. "Miller, get the coach's mask. It's on top of the—" A hand shoots up and fumbles across the top of the desk. "Yeah, there. It's all ready, just put it on. By the time you wake up, your ditto will be dressed."<br/>
<br/>
"I wish you wouldn't call me that," the other Miller says. It has its shirt on now, and it stands up. The hair is tumbling about its shoulders, which adds to the distress evident on its face. "You know, Will, things were really nice there, between us, until—"<br/>
<br/>
"Just finish getting dressed," you order it. It makes a face back at you, but complies. "You're a fake, don't forget."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't feel like a fake," it says.<br/>
<br/>
You can't help swallowing. It doesn't look like a fake, either, and it sounds just like your girlfriend. When it steps out from behind the desk, it takes all your willpower to remember that it's not. <br/>
<br/>
"Go sit out on the bleachers," you tell it roughly, when what you really want to do is pull it to yourself.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112431211211121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Punt
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Should I stay or leave until after Miller's changed?</i> you ask yourself. You forgot to ask before she put on Coach Puente's mask. You huddle on the far side of the corner, with the coach's desk hiding sight of Miller, as you agonize with indecision.<br/>
<br/>
Before you can decide, there's a tap at the door, and Carmona looks in. "Is it safe?" he asks in a low voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, come on in," you tell him. "Miller just put the mask on. She's going to be out for a while."<br/>
<br/>
"How long?"<br/>
<br/>
"Five, ten minutes. I think."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a sober look. "Can we wake her up?"<br/>
<br/>
"She hasn't got any clothes on."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus." Carmona wipes his palms on his jeans, and glances over his shoulder into the hall. "I told the, uh—" He licks his lips with a white tongue. "The other Miller to go wait out in the parking lot. It's freaky, man." He shakes his head. "Uncanny valley."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought she seemed normal."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a quick look. "Too normal. It was weird thinking it wasn't her."<br/>
<br/>
You nod. That's the reason you sent it out of the office.<br/>
<br/>
"What about us?" Carmona asks. "You got some people picked out for you and me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm just winging it. I'm kind of hoping that, uh, Miller'll be able to pick us out something good."<br/>
<br/>
"Is she married?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who? Miller?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, dumbass. The person she's—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. I don't know." The question suddenly alarms you. "Jesus, if she is—"<br/>
<br/>
"If she is," Carmona starts to say, then lapses into a miserable silence. "Oh, forget it. But if she is, better her than me."<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't sound like what he was originally going to say, but you skip it. "You didn't want to be the one to put on the mask," you accuse him. "Did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not my thing. Gonna be weird, putting on someone else's skin."<br/>
<br/>
"You put on Dane's mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but that was just goofing around back at Putnam. Besides—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, God,</i> you mutter to yourself. <i>I'm gonna get the same speech from Carmona as I got from Miller.</i> "I know," you Interrupt him with a sigh. "This is all real sketchy, I'm a dumbass for getting everything fucked up this way. But we're doing this to fix things."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I know," Carmona says. "I just want you to promise me you'll fix me up so I still have a schlong. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh,</i> you now think. <i>Is that all his problem is?</i><br/>
<br/>
You lapse into a silence, one that lasts until there's a low groan from behind the desk. You wait for the sound of someone moving before you call out. "Miller?" Carmona goes up on tiptoes and tries to peer over the top of the desk.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?" comes a voice.<br/>
<br/>
"You okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess. I feel like— Oh, God!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong? Miller?" you call again when she doesn't answer.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine. Only these aren't my fingers! And this isn't my—"<br/>
<br/>
A head pops up from behind the desk. It's got long, straight dark hair, and eyes that are wide with astonishment. There's a pallor beneath the brown tan of Coach Puente's face.<br/>
<br/>
"Does everything work?" Carmona asks.<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Puente's brow furrows. "What do you mean by—? Does my voice sound funny?" She covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Does it?</i> It doesn't sound like Miller, not exactly. The timbre is throatier and raspier. But do you detect a trace of Miller's nasal Wisconsin twang? "How's your head?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Got a touch of a headache. I feel like I woke up too fast from a really deep sleep." She touches her temple and shakes her head. "Rrng. I wonder if she's got any Tylenol in her desk." Distractedly, she starts pulling open drawers.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, think about it," you suggest. "You should be able to get her memories if you try."<br/>
<br/>
Puente pauses and frowns. Then she shakes her head. "Brain still feels fried. I wanna take a nap."<br/>
<br/>
"You got classes and you need to get Puente's brain engaged."<br/>
<br/>
"You could start by getting dressed," Carmona suggests.<br/>
<br/>
Puente makes a face. "You guys get a good enough look while I was conked out?"<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't even peek, Miller," you retort. "Come one, give us a little credit."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," she grumbles. "Just give me a minute." Her face disappears, but the crown of her head bobs into a view a few time as she fumbles about behind the desk. Arms fly up into the air as she pulls her shirt on, and she hefts herself into her office chair to put on her shoes and socks.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," she puffs when she's done. "How do I look?" She stands up.<br/>
<br/>
You didn't realize Coach Puente was so short. Well, she's not <i>short</i>, but in your mind's eye all teachers, especially the P.E. coaches, are taller than you.<br/>
<br/>
But she looks very fit as she comes around the desk. Her shorts are very short and so are her socks, so that there's lots of strong, milk-chocolate leg to ogle. Her top is very form-fitting, and— Well, dammit, her breasts are a lot bigger than Miller's, and the spandex lifts, sculpts and pumps up those assets.<br/>
<br/>
Neither you nor Carmona can speak, something neither of you notice until Miller, with a frown, says, "I'm asking if I can pass as this coach lady, guys. And my eyes are up here."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you look fine," you croak.<br/>
<br/>
"You have her for P.E.?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope." You did see Coach Puente around the gym during your freshman and sophomore years, when you were forced to take a P.E. class, but your hatred of the gym was such that nothing connected to it, not even Coach Puente, looked inviting.<br/>
<br/>
"How long till I have to teach a class?" the new coach asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno her schedule," you confess. You glance at a clock on her desk. "Probably fifteen minutes, though."<br/>
<br/>
Her face falls. "Jeez. I better get started on remembering things!" She perches on the edge of the desk, and lowers her face to stare at her shoes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But her face is pale when the bell rings, and there's fear in her eyes. She's got nothing, she tells you. Not a clue about this woman she's pretending to be.<br/>
<br/>
The three of you have a hurried conference while trying to ignore the rumble of feet in the hallway outside. Miller can't go out and pretend to be Coach Puente without the memories—if she's spotted by any asshole sophomores pretending to be other people—the appearance of an amnesiac teacher will instantly tip your hand to them. But there isn't any time to check the mask for defects.<br/>
<br/>
It's something like panic that sends you caroming off in a desperate direction. You escort Miller to the front office, where she crisply announces to the secretary at the front desk that she's taken ill and is going to have to take the rest of the day off. The flustered secretary tries to stop her, but she strides out without getting caught.<br/>
<br/>
Carmona meets you in the teacher's parking lot with the coach's purse and computer bag, and using her keys you're able to hunt down her car—a minivan—which you all pile in to. It's a disorganized retreat you make from Westside, so disorganized that you have to go back to the school and swing into the student parking lot to pick up the fake Miller, who you had forgotten in your flight. On the other side of the river you pull into the parking lot of a strip mall and consult the coach's driver's license for her home address while ignoring the insistent buzzing on her cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
She lives, you find, in a modest apartment complex on the west side of town. A cat greets you on opening the door, but it scuttles out of sight as you and the others follow the transformed coach inside. The place is clean, but there's a musty odor in the air, as of unwashed laundry.<br/>
<br/>
A quick search turns up two bedrooms—one converted into a study—two bathrooms, a small kitchen and smaller dining area, and a cozy living room. The furniture is faded and dumpy, and the dining table looks second-hand, but there's a large, flat-screen TV, and the office contains not only a desktop computer but another laptop.<br/>
<br/>
There's a queen-size bed in the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
Anxiously, you all scan the photographs on the walls for evidence about Coach Puente's life choices. There are a couple of framed photos that you assume show her parents, and one that shows a much younger coach—high school age?—in a cluster of girls and boys. But there are no photos that show her as one of a couple.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's check that mask," you tell Miller in the bedroom. "I can't believe I messed anything up."<br/>
<br/>
"You think it's my fault?" she retorts, sounding peevish and tired.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I don't know <i>what's</i> going on. But we need to—" You break off as her phone buzzes again. You need to just turn it off.<br/>
<br/>
But you freeze as you reach for the coach's face. From the other end of the apartment comes a dreadful sound: that of the front door opening. "Beatriz?" a male voice calls out.<br/>
<br/>
The three of you exchange looks of horror. <i>Coach Puente's husband?</i><br/>
<br/>
There's a walk-in closet that you and Carmona could hide in while Miller gets rid of him. But suppose she can't?<br/>
<br/>
You've also got two blank masks. You intend to use them on teachers, and this is probably not a teacher. But—<br/>
<br/>
"Beatriz!" whoever it is calls again, sounding impatient.<br/>
<br/>
—this is a desperate moment.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121124312112111212
author_id: seuzz
title: One Hot Mess
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Beatriz!" The intruder calls out a third time.<br/>
<br/>
"Answer him!" you hiss at the girl who looks like Coach Puente.<br/>
<br/>
She pales. "But I don't know who—"<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't matter! Just get him back here!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm back in the bedroom!" Puente calls out in a quavering voice as you dive for the sack that carries your gear. You pull out one of the blank masks.<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't you hear me calling?" the stranger calls back. He sounds surly.<br/>
<br/>
Puente's jaw work soundlessly until Carmona nudges her and points at the bathroom door. "I— I was in the bathroom!" she calls out. "Uh, come on back!" she adds after you poke her. Carmona springs over to hide behind the bedroom door. You run over to hand him the blank mask before diving into the bathroom, dragging the fake Tess Miller in with you. You push the door shut until it's open by just a crack.<br/>
<br/>
There's a mutter and murmur of voices outside, and the heavy tramp of footsteps. "Why aren't you checking your texts?" the guy asks. It sounds like he's just on the other side of the door.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I had my phone turned off," Puente stammers.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I got hauled into the office by— <i>Rrfff!"</i><br/>
<br/>
There's a soft thump and a thud, and a hard gasp from Puente. Your heart jackhammers in your chest. You grip the knob of the bathroom door, but don't pull on it until you hear Carmona call your name in a ragged voice. "It's okay, you can come out."<br/>
<br/>
You pull the door open.<br/>
<br/>
A figure lays in a crumpled hump of clothing and limbs on the bedroom floor. It hardly looks human, just a tangle of dirty Levis and a camouflage jacket. The hair is thick and dark as coffee, and the skin on the back of his neck is even darker than Coach Puente's.<br/>
<br/>
"Any idea who he is?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No!" Puente collapses onto the bed and grabs her temples. "I don't know <i>anything,</i> Will! And what are we going to do now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Same thing we did with the coach." You nudge the prone figure with your toe. "There's your schlong, bro," you tell Carmona.<br/>
<br/>
"But he's not a teacher! Is he?" Puente protests.<br/>
<br/>
You push the dude over with your foot. He has a dark beard, thick but close-shorn. Under the unbuttoned camo jacket is a white t-shirt with food stains all down its front. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't recognize him," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Carmona says. "Check for ID." He squats to search the man's pockets. "Matias Puente," he reads off the driver's license that he extracts from a wallet. "Different home address," he adds after studying it further. "Maybe her brother?" He squints up at Miller.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll know for sure after one of us puts on the mask," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know the masks are working?" Puente protests. "You said I was supposed to know what this teacher knows, but I—"<br/>
<br/>
"We know they're working," you retort, and point at the fake Miller, who has been silently following you all around all this time. "Look at this girl here. Hey, what's your roommate's name, back at Putnam?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"Courtenay Philips," the fake Miller replies with a pinched look. She edges back a step. "Can I go sit in the car or something? This is all way too weird."<br/>
<br/>
"See?" you tell Puente. You point to her face. "Whatever's wrong— Well, soon as we take care of this guy we'll try figuring out what's wrong with your set up."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's do that now," Puente says. She hops backward on the bed and grabs her face, smushing it up. "Can you get it off me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing." You climb onto the bed and prop yourself over her so you can get a grip on her face.<br/>
<br/>
But you pause before making a move. It gives you a funny feeling—a pleasurable feeling—to hover over her like this. You've never been in or on a bed with her, but as you look down at her and she looks up at you, you can't help feeling like this could or should be the prelude to an intimate moment.<br/>
<br/>
So when you touch her face, it's a caress rather than a grip.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry about all this, Miller," you murmur at her. "I didn't want any of this to happen."<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, Will," she says, and smiles tightly at you. "I'm sorry I'm not doing it right."<br/>
<br/>
You smile back at her, then place your fingers around her temple and pull.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh, <i>fuck,</i>" you mutter as you sit up. "Mother of God." You squeeze your head between your hands. All this taking off and putting on of faces is getting really old.<br/>
<br/>
First you pulled Beatriz Puente's mask off of Miller and put it on yourself, while Carmona put on the mask of her brother. (Yes, it's her younger brother who busted in on you.) You woke up not only with all of Beatriz's memories, but for almost half a minute you were convinced you <i>were</i> Beatriz Puente and couldn't figure out why these strangers were in your bedroom with you. Carmona, though, had no clue as to who Matias was other than what you (as Beatriz) were able to tell him. The same thing was true of Miller when you transferred Matias's mask onto her, and Carmona couldn't get any of Beatriz's memories when he put on her mask. (Meanwhile, a fake version of Carmona is now sitting in Beatriz's living room with the fake version of Miller.) <br/>
<br/>
Finally it was your turn to put on Matias's mask. You are presently suffering a brief migraine as you try to squeeze two sets of memories—yours and his—into one compact and manageable ball. "Oh, fuck," you groan again.<br/>
<br/>
"Any luck?" Carmona.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, all bad. God damn it."<br/>
<br/>
Carmona and Miller exchange a brief glance. "It doesn't work for you?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, it <i>does.</i> Son of a bitch." You drag yourself up onto your feet and shake your head clear. A hard shiver runs through you as the last of Matias Puente's memories click into place, giving you full control over everything he can think or do. "Wish I knew what the fucking deal was."<br/>
<br/>
The fucking deal, apparently, is that the masks work just fine for you, but don't work for your two partners.<br/>
<br/>
"And the bitch of it is," you grumble, "I don't got time now to figure it out." Instinctively you feel at your pockets for your cell phone, only to discover that you're still wearing your own clothes, not Matias's. "I gotta get back up to the school."<br/>
<br/>
"The school?" Miller asks, sounding alarmed. "What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"My job. Lobo here works in the cafeteria." The new memories and the knowledge are so vivid and clear that it almost gives you vertigo as you hurtle through them. "He got called in to the office when the coach ran out. She wasn't answering her phone, so Sagansky sent him over to see what's wrong." You cock your head and pick up Beatriz's mask. "I s'pose I could tell 'em she's throwing her guts up all over the bathroom. That still doesn't settle what to do about her tomorrow, though."<br/>
<br/>
Worried glances are exchanged around your small, three-person circle.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, look, I gotta go back up to the school, cover for Matias," you say. "I can do him, an' we don't want both of 'em disappearing. But you guys stay here— Beatriz don't got a boyfriend or nothing, ain't no one gonna come bustin' in on you 'cept me. You should put her mask on again, though," you tell Miller. "Try concentratin' on gettin' some of her memories and shit. Look around the place. Maybe something'll knock something loose. I'll be back over sometime tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"Tonight?" Miller echoes. "Not after school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Got another job I need to cover. God damn it. Six hour shift at the IHOP. What?" you ask as you notice them both giving you strange looks.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not talking like yourself, Will," Carmona says. "You've got an accent, and you're not— You just don't sound like you usually do."<br/>
<br/>
You only snort. "So I guess I'm talkin' like Matias here. But I gotta split." You pat a pocket, looking for a cigarette. "Gotta change first, though," you mutter to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You chain smoke three cigarettes on the drive back over to Westside in Matias Puente's beat up van. (The faded logo of the pool cleaning service he bought the old junker off is still faintly visible under the coating of gray paint he got a friend to spray over it.) Everything's turning out a lot harder, a lot more complicated, than you'd planned. Sure, you managed to swap places with one of the teachers, but no one except you can seem to get into her memories to play her part. And now, at the moment, you're trapped in the body of a cafeteria cook who has no access to any of the students at Westside.<br/>
<br/>
Was it this hard for Andrew Webb and his friends?<br/>
<br/>
You park in the staff lot and make a quick stop in the office to report on Beatriz Puente's condition—"She's real sick, looks like food poisoning"—before trudging back into the cafeteria to resume your Matias's place at the hot stove, prepping gloppy food for the lunchtime crowd. Matias's absence has slowed things down, and the other cooks have had to work even harder to not fall back even further, and you get lots of surly looks and curses.<br/>
<br/>
But either your luck is changing, or you are being tempted to double down on disaster, when as you take a smoke break in back of the school once the lunch rush is over you look up at the sound of your new name, and see Cathy Schell approaching.<br/>
<br/>
You toss the cigarette away. A gorgeous blonde P.E. coach like Coach Schell won't like seeing a guy smoke. "I heard Beatriz got food poisoning," she tells you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we think so. She'll be okay, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Does she need me to bring anything over?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart leaps. <i>Here's a chance to make another replacement.</i><br/>
<br/>
Then it sinks. <i>Here's a chance to make another fuck up.</i></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211243121121112121
author_id: seuzz
title: Schell Game
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Cathy Schell. P. E. coach. You've seen her around. You've seen her talking and hanging out with your sister. And <i>God. Damn.</i> Is she hot!<br/>
<br/>
Okay, that's Matias Puente talking. But he speaks for you, too. Just at a louder volume.<br/>
<br/>
Cathy Schell is trim, compact, and stacked. Legs that work a Stairmaster every day; tits like torpedoes. She's dressed now in blue shorts and a white t-shirt; the red lanyard draped across her chest is like a neon arrow pulling your eyes down to her chest. Her blonde hair falls in two great waves to the top of her shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Beatriz got a touch of ptomaine or somethin'," you tell her as you wrench your gaze up to meet hers. "She was pukin' her guts up all over the bathroom when I went in to see her."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!" Coach Schell's chest heaves with concern, and your eyes go to her boobs again. "Does she need to go to the doctor?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, she said it came on sudden like. She just needs to get the shit outta her system. You should stop by and see her, though," you add with a thumping heart. "She'd like that."<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't want to bother her."<br/>
<br/>
"No, she'd wanna see you," you assure her. "You could do us both a favor, actually. She asked me to pick up a few things at the store for her, but I got another job I gotta get to right after I leave here. Could you—?"<br/>
<br/>
Coach Schell nods and says she'll be happy to help.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Another one?" Beatriz protests when you get back to her place and tell her what you've got in mind. "We can't even get these masks to work!"<br/>
<br/>
"They work for me," you remind her. You're perched on the sofa by the front window, watching through a crack between the curtains for Coach Schell. "I can't do any good as Matias here, I'm stuck back in the kitchen all day and then I got other jobs. Coach Schell's inside the school, she's as good as Coach Puente." <i>Better,</i> you add to yourself. <i>Sexier.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So why don't you put on Coach Puente's mask, take over here?" Beatriz insists. "I'm not doing any good with it."<br/>
<br/>
"You still not getting any of the memories? You trying?" You glance back when you're answered by only a doubtful silence. "Well?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe I am getting something," she admits. "I'm getting deja vu kind of hard." She glances around.<br/>
<br/>
"There you go. Maybe it'll come."<br/>
<br/>
"So how come—?" That's Carmona sauntering in from the kitchen with half a sandwich and a glass of milk. "So how come <i>you</i> can get into character, Will, instantly, and for us it takes—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me, pendejo. Sorry," you add when Carmona frowns. "I guess I get in character fast <i>and</i> deep." You try not to notice the veiled glances that Carmona and Beatriz exchange. "But look," you tell Miller, "if in the morning you still got trouble with Beatriz's memories and stuff, I'll take over for her."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what happens to this other coach if we—? Who would—?"<br/>
<br/>
"She can miss a day. Tomorrow's last day of school before break, she can take an absence. Then we got the holiday to figure out how to handle it."<br/>
<br/>
But you've already outlined a potential scheme to yourself. That spell that enchants the masks, putting them under a magician's control? You've set it up so each of you gets one mask to control—each of you controls the mask of yourself. But are you really limited to controlling just one mask? Nothing in the spell says that you are. If you can control more than one mask, then you could turn Beatriz Puente and Cathy Schell both into puppets, and move between them. And if that works, you wouldn't need Carmona or Miller inside the school with you, doing impersonations. You could handle all the impersonations yourself. But you haven't suggested this idea to them yet, as you've worried they might freak out at the idea of turning <i>lots</i> of people into puppets.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, here she is," you announce a few minutes later, when you glimpse Cathy Schell, a grocery sack in her arm, getting out of a car. You hop away from the window. "You bring her inside," you instruct Beatriz, "take her into the kitchen, keep her back to the doorway. Carmona and me'll come in and get her from behind."<br/>
<br/>
Your girlfriend nods unhappily.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's disorienting at first when you wake again, but you quickly get yours situated, even though you're naked, in bed, in Beatriz Puente's bedroom. But even though it's a lovely feeling to sit up with Cathy Schell's boobs hanging off your chest, you don't waste time playing with yourself, for Miller is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with a hooded expression.<br/>
<br/>
"Does it work?" she asks. "The mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes." You squeeze your temples between your hands. "I just wish I didn't get a migraine every time I took one of these things off and put one on. Was it like that for you, with Beatriz's mask?"<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head. "No, I just felt funny when I woke up, like my body was all weird." She pauses. "Is it because you get all the memories at once, that you get a headache?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so." You have a truly bewildering array of thoughts flicking through your head, like a TV zipping through a hundred channels at once. Only after you stagger to your feet do things start to settle down. "At least it doesn't last long. Hand me my things, could you?"<br/>
<br/>
Beatriz Puente hands over underwear and bra, then the gym clothes. You try not to feel self-conscious as you dress in front of her.<br/>
<br/>
"What about Thomas Luna?" she asks in a tone of studied casualness.<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" It takes you a moment to place the name. But when it comes rushing in, you sit back down hard on the bed. "Oh!"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." Beatriz's tone is very dry.<br/>
<br/>
"Who told you about him and, uh, Cathy?" <i>Him and me</i> is what you almost said.<br/>
<br/>
"No one. I told you think I'm starting to get the memories in the mask." She doesn't look happy as she says it. "I was just sitting here, looking at you, and all of a sudden I thought how Cathy and Thomas are—"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, don't remind me, okay?" You stand back up again. "It's vivid for me. And I got more to remember." You can't help flinching as you think of the guidance counselor's hairy cock worming its way up your cunny—and at the intensely pleasurable thrill it gives Cathy Schell to have him pumping away inside her. "Don't be jealous," you snap at her.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not <i>jealous.</i> I was just thinking we could make a mask of <i>him,</i>" Beatriz says. "Give it to Carmona to wear."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>God</i>, no!"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, then he'd be under control. You wouldn't have to worry about, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll talk about it later," you snap. "Speaking of Carmona," you add, "has he gone yet to pick up the stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes." She pauses. "I guess that's the answer, then."<br/>
<br/>
"What is?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks up at you. "What you explained when you asked him to get stuff to make more masks.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
What you explained was your idea about making student puppets, to spy out the school from the inside. They jibbed a lot less at this than you thought they would; Carmona even said, "I thought we were going to do that anyway." But now, even before he's returned with the supplies, you're thinking of switching it up further. Instead of using student puppets as spies while impersonating teachers, maybe you should impersonate the students while keeping teachers in reserve as puppets.<br/>
<br/>
Carmona agrees when he's returned with the additional supplies, and you've explained this evolution in your thinking. And he goes further, suggesting that you scatter <i>lots</i> of puppets throughout the school, to smoke out any fakes that are hiding inside it.<br/>
<br/>
"We're not really going to do this to the whole school, are we, Will?" Beatriz asks when she walks you out to the car at three o'clock in the morning, by which time your trio has made six new masks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, not the <i>whole</i> school," you assure her. "Maybe not even all that many."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, then explain, "We might get lucky and trip up over some of Red Team's fakes." You don't add the kicker: If you do quickly trip over one of their fakes, it will probably be because they've made so many of them. They might already own the whole school.<br/>
<br/>
"I just want to get this over with," Beatriz murmur.<br/>
<br/>
"I know. I do too." It feels funny for you—Cathy Schell—to pull Beatriz Puente into an embrace. "It's why we can't waste time," you whisper as you squeeze her to you. She squeezes you back.<br/>
<br/>
You then part for the night, to get a few hours sleep before going in to the school for the last day of classes before Thanksgiving break. You and Miller will each have three masks with you, and six classes to pick recruits from.<br/>
<br/>
But you're already picking them out as you stride in to school at seven-thirty the next morning, your head buzzing with a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. You are already looking forward to your first-period class—volleyball practice—and two prime candidates to turn into puppets and spies.<br/>
<br/>
The first is Ava Price, the only sophomore on the team. You don't know how popular or connected she is, but at least she would be a recruit down in the sophomore class, where Red Team would likely have some of its own agents. The other is Reagan Hackett, a senior, who impresses Cathy Schell as a snoop, a gossip, and a plugged-in social butterfly.<br/>
<br/>
As you stride toward the gym you spot another possible recruit: Carl Gellman. He coaches the soccer teams, and maybe you should snag him for Carmona. At least one of the masks you carry is supposed to be for a disguise for him.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe you should wait to talk to Miller first, and coordinate with her.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112431211211121212
author_id: seuzz
title: Fast Play
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The Tuesday before Thanksgiving dawns very cold, and the temperature has just broken above freezing as you stride in toward the gym. Overhead, pillowy clouds float in a pale blue sky.<br/>
<br/>
The bracing chill seems to stiffen your spine. <i>No point in fucking around,</i> you decide as you cross the small quad in front of the gym. Reagan Hackett and Ava Price will probably be as good recruits as any, and if you start second-guessing yourself you'll never stop.<br/>
<br/>
Harsh voices sound over the squeak of rubber soles on polished wood sound as you enter the gym vestibule, just as they did yesterday morning when you and your friends came in search of some coaches. This morning, though, as you enter the eastern practice court, Coach Schell's instincts pull your eyes onto the floor, where the school basketball team is practicing.<br/>
<br/>
They've broken into two five-man squads and are playing a hard practice game. Lean, muscled forms in baggy shorts and tops sprint up and down the court and hurl themselves through the air at the nets; the ball bangs like a gunshot against floor. A scent of testosterone and sweat hangs in the air, and you draw in a deep lungful of it. Normally it would make you retch; but your impersonation loves it the smell of teenage boy.<br/>
<br/>
You start a little when you spot an out-of-place figure in the middle of the scrum: the lanky form of Will Prescott. You almost don't recognize him, what with his shortened hair and his crimson-and-gold uniform. He looks scrawny and underfed when mixing it up with giants like Steve Patterson and Brendan Tummler. But he zips across the floor when he's got the ball, weaving in and out like a shuttlecock on a loom; and once, as you watch, he nails two points with a shot that's all net. His expression is set in stone as he sprints back down to the far end of the court.<br/>
<br/>
There are other changes to the squad, which you take in like a flash. Gordon Black is gone—and what a lot of drama there was in the coaches' offices when Black suddenly fell apart on them; Coach Brooks was almost suicidal—and his absence is like plucking the biggest skyscraper from a metropolitan skyline. Gone too is Jeremy Richards. A new standout on the court is Adam Dortch, less for his skill or height than for the immense bush of hair—like a brown dandelion—that puffs up on his head. <i>Put it in a tie or tease it into a 'fro,</i> Brooks has told him, but as yet he's done neither.<br/>
<br/>
But the two standout changes to the Westside team have to be—<br/>
<br/>
"'Ay, Coach Schell!" a clear voice rings out, and your eye flicks over to Joe Durras. Golden of limb and golden of hair, he dances in place for you with his hands over his head, grinning. <i>God, he's gorgeous,</i> Cathy Schell murmurs in your ear. <i>If I was ten years younger and on the girls' basketball squad—</i><br/>
<br/>
"Dumbass!" Patterson barks. "Get your ass back in gear!"<br/>
<br/>
Joe kicks up his heels, does a cartwheel, then trots down to the far end of the court, where play has moved. He casts a glinting grin back over his shoulder at you. His brother, Frank—tall and dark and brooding ("Byronic," Ms. Goretsky sighed as she and Cathy and some of the other teachers were drooling over him and his brother one afternoon)—mutters at him, but Joe only shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
They came over to Westside from cross-town rival Eastman just a few weeks ago. And despite Gordon's dropping out, talk is that the Westside Dragons have significantly bettered their chances of going to state by adding them to the roster.<br/>
<br/>
With a deep, pleasurable sigh, you turn toward the mezzanine and the coaches' offices.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Nice spike, Ava!" you shout as the volleyball bounces away on the other side of the net. Whitney Rosenthal, looking grim and exhausted as her team falls further behind the other, scoops it out of the air and hurls it back over the net to Regina Yost. Ava Price herself only returns you a hooded glance. You carefully refrain from frowning.<br/>
<br/>
She was vexed when she woke up in your office as a fake version of herself. First thing after class started, you lined up the girls and asked who was staying in town for the break. To your relief, both Ava and Reagan had raised their hands. Not that you couldn't have picked two other girls, but it saved you from having to invent new plans on the fly.<br/>
<br/>
After sending the other girls jogging around the gym, you asked Ava to come back into your office, where you got her from behind with a mask. While she was unconscious you checked her for a mask and found nothing, and after the mask came out of her you applied some of the special enchanting goop to its inner surface before returning the mask to her face. She had instantly woken, confused and a little resentful, but had dutifully promised to tell the other girls that she had only had a short "conference" with you about her grades. Except for a shadow of anger that still hangs over her, you have seen no other change in her.<br/>
<br/>
You spent the balance of class running drills and practice, the way Coach Schell would. Maybe she was more enthusiastic about watching the boys' basketball team than you were, but you enjoy this class more than she would. The girls aren't the prettiest in the school, and in truth they're not the most athletic either. But they show lots of leg and arm in their skimpy shorts and t-shirts, and there's a flush of health in them that gives you a flush of pleasure too.<br/>
<br/>
You call an early halt to practice, telling the girls they can shower, change, and have the balance of the time to hang out, but you call Reagan to follow you into your office. "My grades are fine, Ms. Schell," she tells you in a very dry tone as you lead her down the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, did Ava tell you that's what I talked to her about?" You force a laugh. "That was just a cover. There's something else I want to see you about." Reagan looks piqued as she follows you into the office. "Take a seat," you invite her, and close the door as she sits with her back to you. From the shallow shelf on the back wall, where the coach has balanced some plaques and small trophies, you pluck down a second blank mask. Smoothly you step up behind Reagan and reach around to press it into her face. All the starch goes out of her, and she slumps in her seat.<br/>
<br/>
You check her face for other masks and find none, then perch on the edge of your desk to study her. Like Ava, Reagan has long, dark-blonde hair that falls in straight lengths to the top of her boobs. But Reagan has a bold mouth and a bolder, almost prow-like nose, and she also has a figure that the instructor in Cathy Schell's college-level art appreciation class might call "Rubenesque": solid and barrel-like, but without being fat. Indeed, her thighs, though very big, are toned and tanned, even now at the end of November. <i>Probably she hits a tanning bed once a week,</i> you tell yourself. All in all, she has an appearance that well matches the bossy personality she sometimes shows on the volleyball court—the personality that you chose her for.<br/>
<br/>
You catch the mask as it falls out of her, and coat its inner surface with the goop before setting it back onto her face, where it instantly sinks out of sight. Her eyes open, and she looks puzzled. But she accepts your instructions—to tell the other girls that you wanted to talk to her about her classes—with a calm assurance. As with Ava, you instruct her to come find you in your office when school lets out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
During the break between first and second period you tap at Beatriz Puente's door. But there's no answer, and it's nearly five minutes before, looking very blown, she comes striding down the hallway. "Oh, God, I wanted to kill the girls this morning," she pants as she jams a key into the lock. This morning, unlike yesterday, she has a slight Hispanic accent. "What's up?" she asks as she leads you into her office.<br/>
<br/>
"Just checking to see how you're doing," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm okay." She blows out a deep breath and turns a distracted gaze onto you. "Don't worry about me, Will," she mutters, but she seems not to be looking at you.<br/>
<br/>
"You sure everything's okay?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Trying not to lose my concentration," she says. "Is like running," she adds. "I lose my momentum, I got to pick it up all over again."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh," you reply. With you, it's easiest to just fall into Coach Schell's personality, but you don't want to upset Miller by telling her that. "I just wanted to check in with you," you repeat. "I placed two of my masks last period. How are you coming along?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you kidding?" Beatriz snaps. "I been running a soccer practice for the last two hours. When was I—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just chill, Miller. It's okay. You've got the rest of the day."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm out on the field all day," she retorts. "Well, I got the two tutorials this afternoon, but they got those glass walls in the offices, anyone can see in."<br/>
<br/>
"Call your own students in for a one-on-one conference in here," you suggest. "That's what I did with my girls."<br/>
<br/>
Beatriz bites her lip. "You got two done already? Really? Can I give you one of mine, that way I only have to do two instead of three?"<br/>
<br/>
That's no problem for you, and Miller is relieved and grateful when you take one of her masks from her.<br/>
<br/>
You've met your own quota—two masks for you to control—this morning. Now, with two more to handle, you have to find two recruits for Carmona.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe it should be one for him and one for Miller. You'd like to pick a good one for her—one that you could appreciate too.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121124312112111212121
author_id: seuzz
title: Five Guys
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You place the new mask that Miller gave you on the back shelf of your office next to the other mask that you still have to find a place for. You already have a container of enchanted goop that will turn the wearer of a mask into an obedient servant of Tim Carmona.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Except,</i> you only realize now that it's too late, <i>Carmona won't be here to give it any orders. How much of a problem is that going to be? Will it obey me if I give it orders? Or will it run out and tell everyone that Coach Schell is doing weird things with students back in her office?<br/>
<br/>
Best not to chance it,</i> you decide. You're going to have to restrain yourself and pick only one alias for Carmona, not two, for you will have to switch into the mask of whoever you pick so that you can control it directly while leaving Coach Schell on auto-pilot. Then, using that disguise or some other, you will have to get Carmona his second alias later today or tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
The bell rings, and you jump. Time for second period: Personal Fitness.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The Personal Fitness classes are electives, unlike the Basic P.E. classes that every graduate of Westside is required to take two semesters of. That means they are mostly filled with sophomores and juniors, and occasionally seniors, who need or want more physical activity. Mostly that means members of the junior varsity teams. Better than that, even, it means that the classes, being voluntary, are a lot more pleasant for the students, which makes them more pleasant for the teachers as well, who don't have to worry about bullying by the more athletic types, or sulking indifference from the less athletic kids.<br/>
<br/>
This particular Personal Fitness class concentrates on stamina and aerobic activities, and the kids on the floor are already stretching and warming up as you come striding out. Most of them are in sweat pants and long-sleeve tops, for you'll be taking them outside. You spend a few minutes looking them over as they continue to filter out from the changing rooms, and watch as some of them take off on a short, light jog around the court. Except for one or two of the chunkier kids, who signed up for the class to get in better shape, most of them look pretty good.<br/>
<br/>
When it looks like everyone is out and ready, you blow your whistle and summon everyone over for roll call. "Adler! Ayala! Beecher!" Down the list you go, too quick to make any notes for yourself. "Okay, ten times around the perimeter, then out to the track," you order them. "Go!"<br/>
<br/>
With heads down they take off, the fleetest of them flying out in front, and lapping the slow-pokes within the first two circuits. You stand in the middle of the gym, clipboard to your chest, beaming at them. Now you <i>can</i> take notes.<br/>
.<br/>
<br/>
The juniors in the class you ignore: your gut tells you that if Andrew Webb and his friends have spread their tentacles through the school, they will mostly be in their own class or in the senior class. But there aren't that many seniors to worry about, and you are able to narrow the list of possible senior recruits for Carmona down to two: Darren Green and Shawn Sax.<br/>
<br/>
Sax is the more plausible of the two. For a start, he's on the varsity basketball team, and given the squad's glamor and prestige you'd bet that that is one place that Webb and his friends would want to infiltrate. Sax is one of the few African-American students in the school, and though he's on the small side for a player, he makes up for it with raw skill and strength. You've always been scared of him—with his bandana, moustache and goatee, and thuggishly soft-spoken manner he exudes menace—but that makes him attractive in the current, dangerous circumstances. Even now, there's an animal vigor to his stride as he pounds around the perimeter of the gym in his snowy-white jogging suit.<br/>
<br/>
His friend Green was also on the squad until the purge a few weeks ago, when along with Black and Richards and Dylan Lloyd he was sent down and replaced with the two Durras brothers, Adam Dortch and (still bizarre to think about) Will Prescott. At first you're inclined to discount him for that reason. But it occurs to you that Green would still be close to members of the team, but that being off the squad he might not be a target for Red Team, which would make him a good recruit for your side. He would probably look more plausible as a companion to Reagan Hackett, the senior volleyball player you put a mask on.<br/>
<br/>
There are a lot more sophomore boys to consider, but you soon reduce them to three. James Randolph, like Sax and Green, is a basketball player, though as yet he's only on the junior varsity team. You're not sure, but you suspect that he's popular down in his class. Or is it only because, with his blonde hair and strong legs, he reminds Cathy Schell of Joe Durras? Even so, you'd trust her instincts, and you consider him a candidate.<br/>
<br/>
The other two are Liam Schoonover and Bradley White. Both are on the skinny side, and Schoonover in particular looks like a scarecrow with his thin arms and legs. But Cathy has noticed the way the girls in the class sidle up to him and White, to talk and smile and tuck their hair back while laughing. Schoonover plays in a popular garage band, so that explains his appeal. Of White's appeal you're much less sure, as he doesn't look all that special, though he has a very fresh face and a glinting grin under his mop of platinum-blonde hair. He must have a personality that gets the girls excited.<br/>
<br/>
You follow the kids outside to the track, and after Randolph and Jamie Laird (one of the junior girls) have circled it twice, you start shuttling them back inside as each one completes a circuit. You jog in with the last of them and let them walk it off and catch their breath before sending Sax into the equipment room to fetch out a bag of rubber balls. Most of the kids' faces light up at the prospect of playing dodge ball for the rest of the period, though Cristina Ramon looks like she wants to crawl under the bleachers.<br/>
<br/>
"Who's staying in town for Thanksgiving?" you shout out before the game can start. "Come on, put your hands up!" The kids look puzzled but comply. "Just looking to see who might be in town over break for some extra credit," you explain. The quick roll call has eliminated one of your choices: Bradley White will be heading out of town.<br/>
<br/>
But another possibility swaggers onto the court a few minutes later, as the balls start to fly: Peter Gossett, another one of the coaches. He grins and gestures you over with a crook of his finger. "You doing this for the rest of the period?" he asks. You nod. "Mind if my guys join you? They're spazzing out and I can't get 'em to concentrate."<br/>
<br/>
It's the wrestling class that Gossett is talking about, but you're not thinking of those guys—hot as some of them are—when you nod. It's Gossett himself. Like Cathy he's in his early thirties, with a full head of reddish-brown hair, a wide smile, and a beard so heavy it shows a five o'clock shadow even before noon. He's built the way a wrestling coach should be, with lots of muscle packed into a trim frame. He's popular with his students, too. Carmona would appreciate Gossett as his "teacher" alias.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121124312112111212122
author_id: seuzz
title: Five Girls
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You place the new mask that Miller gave you on the back shelf of your office next to the other mask that you still have to find a place for. You already have a container of enchanted goop that will turn the wearer of a mask into an obedient servant of Tim Carmona, and—<br/>
<br/>
You pause and frown. Only now that it's too late do you see the flaw in the plan you made for the day. You and Miller were going to put two masks onto students for Carmona's aliases, but he won't be here to give them any orders. Is that going to be a problem? <i> Will it obey us if we give it orders?</i> you wonder. <i>Or will it run out and tell everyone that Coach Schell and Coach Puente are doing weird things with students back in their offices?<br/>
<br/>
Best not to chance it,</i> you decide. You'll have to score Carmona two masks later, when he's around to take control of them. <br/>
<br/>
Almost you take the second mask back to Miller, so that she can pick two aliases for herself, but change your mind. She sounded stressed so you can help her out by picking out one of them for her. So even as the bell rings for second period, you put your head into her office to warn her off from making a mask for Carmona, and to use only one of her pair to make another alias for herself. She looks relieved when you tell you'll pick her out an alias from your second-period class.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The Personal Fitness classes are electives, unlike the Basic P.E. classes that every graduate of Westside is required to take two semesters of. That means they are mostly filled with sophomores and juniors, and occasionally seniors, who need or want more physical activity. Mostly that means members of the junior varsity teams. Better than that, even, it means that the classes, being voluntary, are a lot more pleasant for the students, which makes them more pleasant for the teachers as well, who don't have to worry about bullying by the more athletic types, or sulking indifference from the less athletic kids.<br/>
<br/>
The particular Personal Fitness class that Cathy Schell teaches second period concentrates on stamina and aerobic activities, and the kids on the floor are already stretching and warming up as you come striding out. Most of them are in sweat pants and long-sleeve tops, for you'll be taking them outside. You spend a few minutes looking them over as they continue to filter out from the changing rooms, and watch as some of them take off on a short, light jog around the court. Except for one or two of the chunkier kids, who signed up for the class to get in better shape, most of them look pretty good.<br/>
<br/>
When it looks like everyone is out and ready, you blow your whistle and summon everyone over for roll call. "Adler! Ayala! Beecher!" Down the list you go, too quick to make any notes for yourself. "Okay, ten times around the perimeter, then out to the track," you order them. "Go!"<br/>
<br/>
With heads down they take off, the fleetest of them flying out in front, and lapping the slow-pokes within the first two circuits. You stand in the middle of the gym, clipboard to your chest, beaming at them. Now you <i>can</i> take notes.<br/>
<br/>
The juniors in the class you ignore: your gut tells you that if Andrew Webb and his friends have spread their tentacles through the school, they will mostly be in their own class or in the senior class. Almost you discount the senior girls, who are only in the class to get some much-needed exercise, but you make a mental note to keep Cristina Ramon as a candidate. She is a chunky girl—"fat" wouldn't be an inaccurate description—who puffs and chugs along at the very end of the line, glaring at the backs of the runners who blow past her. <br/>
<br/>
<i>I wouldn't tap that,</i> you think. But maybe that's a reason to pick her, so that Miller won't think you were plotting with your cock rather than with your brain. Besides, Cathy Schell has heard and seen things that suggest that Cristina, like Reagan Hackett, is something of a gossip queen in the senior class; and a few times, when some of the sophomore girls have said something snarky and giggly to her face, she has silenced them with a dagger-like tongue.<br/>
<br/>
And speaking of the sophomore girls ...<br/>
<br/>
Lots of them are in the Personal Fitness class as an adjunct to their sports activities. So you've got basketball girls, softball girls, track girls, and others well represented. Almost too well represented, so that it's hard to narrow the list down to only one or two top choices.<br/>
<br/>
You've still not picked anyone for Miller when the kids start exiting the gym, and you follow them out at a thoughtful pace. Three of them, you simply can't eliminate from consideration, even with all the other possibilities in play: Kaylee Mercier, Wendy Adler, and Avery Ayala. These are a giggling trio of friends that are obviously in training to be cheerleaders. Kaylee already looks like a younger version of Chelsea Cooper, with her golden locks and wide smile. Wendy is less buxom and she has a serious demeanor; in tracking her progress Coach Schell has noted that she is taking serious classes and getting straight As. Avery is still at a gawky age, with elbows and knees that don't quite want to obey her, and there's a desperation in her smile that (to Coach Schell's mind) suggests feelings of inferiority and a tendency to grovel for approval. But she is good friends with the other two.<br/>
<br/>
<i>If I was on Red Team,</i> you think, <i>Kaylee and probably Wendy would be girls I'd want masks of.</i> If you want to uncover one of their puppets, it would be best to strike at one of them. Alternately, if you just want to get close to Red Team agents, to spy them out, you'd probably be better off picking Avery.<br/>
<br/>
You've not narrowed your choices any further before James Randolph and Jamie Laird (one of the junior girls) have circled the track twice, whereupon you start shuttling the kids back inside as each completes a circuit. You jog in with the last of them and let them walk it off and catch their breath before sending Shawn Sax into the equipment room to fetch out a bag of rubber balls. Most of the kids' faces light up at the prospect of playing dodge ball for the rest of the period, but Cristina looks like she wants to crawl under the bleachers.<br/>
<br/>
"Who's staying in town for Thanksgiving?" you shout out before the game can start. "Come on, put your hands up!" The kids look puzzled but comply. <br/>
<br/>
Good. The quick roll call has eliminated some of the other girls you'd not been able to eliminate on other grounds, so that feel yourself faced with only (only!) five: Kaylee, Wendy, Avery, Cristina, and Karen Beecher (an African-American girl on the JV basketball squad who for that reason might be close to Red Team's Elijah Washington).<br/>
<br/>
Almost at random, you call one of them out to follow you back into your office. "I want to talk to you about some extra credit over the break," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
First, though, you knock on Coach Puente's door and put your head into her office, for this is her free period. "Come talk to me in my office when you have a minute," you tell her as she looks up from her laptop. You hope she'll approve your choice of—</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211243121121112121222
author_id: seuzz
title: Rounding Off the First Phase
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Kaylee giggles shyly as she takes a seat in front of your desk—the same seat Reagan and Ava sat in. You cock an eyebrow at Beatriz as you slide a blank mask off the back shelf, and she pushes the door shut as you turn back to Kaylee. You take her from behind—she stiffens in the chair, then slumps. You have to catch her and prop her more firmly in the chair to stop her from sliding to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"You want to give me your other masks?" you ask Beatriz. "I seem to be getting pretty good at this."<br/>
<br/>
She returns you a pinched smile—an unhappy expression, but she doesn't look as freaked out as when you did the same thing to Coach Puente yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
"I can handle it," she says. "You don't have to do everything for me, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"You told me you were having a hard time, 'cos you're out on the field all day."<br/>
<br/>
"And <i>you</i> told me to pull them into my office to do it," she retorts. "I see what you mean now." She steps around you to scrutinize Kaylee directly. "She's pretty, isn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not why I picked her," you protest.<br/>
<br/>
"Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well—" You twist inside your assumed skin. "Not totally. She's got lots of friends, and that's the important thing. But this stuff is easier, you know, if you don't hate the body you're wearing."<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly you are very self-conscious of Coach Schell's boobs and butt, and you have to restrain yourself hugging yourself with embarrassment.<br/>
<br/>
Beatriz grins. "You're so cute, Will. And I don't mean—" She clasps you by the elbows. "We should have a sleepover. We can paint each other toenails!"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself blush furiously. Beatriz titters, and pushes your hair out of your face. "It's easier to hang out like this, right?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just as girlfriends. Oh, wait!" Her face falls. "You picked out some guys for yourself this morning, didn't you? With your masks?"<br/>
<br/>
You're relieved to tell her that you picked out two girls. "I was thinking the same thing," you lie. "That it would be easier if we didn't have the, uh, boyfriend-girlfriend thing going."<br/>
<br/>
She grins again. "Except you'll have to worry about it with Carmona, won't you?" She leaps back when you slap at her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Ten minutes pass, and you're able to finish the mask and set it back on Kaylee, and through Beatriz you relay instructions to the mind-controlled girl to forget about what happened and to tell her friends that you offered her extra credit for participation in a fun run. You also get contact information from her.<br/>
<br/>
It's almost the end of the period by that point, and you suggest to Miller that for her second girl she pick someone in the senior class—someone from the soccer team she teaches. She agrees to, and also volunteers that she'll get a mask for Carmona on the lacrosse team, which she also coaches.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves you with one last mask, also for Carmona, that you need to get. You're taking your lunch—Coach Schell's lunch break comes during third period—and flipping through rosters looking at names, when there's a tap at your door. Before you can reply, it opens, and Thomas Luna looks in.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> You forgot that he has this period free and likes to spend it with Cathy. But you force a smile onto your face, and despite the chill of irritation you feel on being interrupted, Cathy's body instinctively warms as Thomas comes in and shuts the door behind him.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you didn't call," he murmurs as he leans across the desk to put his dark face to yours. His eyes are a liquid black under a heavy brow, and his strong jaw works hungrily as he drinks you in. His gelled hair is swept straight back in a way that makes you think of a rooster's coxcomb. In fact, everything about Thomas Luna, from his strutting gait to his thrusting stare, reminds you of an arrogant rooster lording it over his henhouse. He acts that way, too, setting the tempo of your dates, from the hour he picks you up to the minute he pulls you into his apartment; and when he is ready to end the necking and move on to the rutting, he doesn't ask or suggest, he only thrusts his hand down to grip your pussy, and with his free hand he lifts you up and pushes you down the hall to the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
And any second now, you can tell, he's going to lay a hot palm on the back of your neck and pull your face to his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"I got caught up in paperwork," you explain.<br/>
<br/>
"Me too," he murmurs. "But I didn't forget about you."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't—"<br/>
<br/>
His had goes to the back of your neck, and then you're being dragged forward. His hot breath washes over your face, and his strong lips and muscular tongue encompass your mouth. They taste like cinnamon hots.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh God,</i> you think, <i>I know where this is going.</i> And there's only one way to stop it.<br/>
<br/>
"Not on the desk," you pant when he breaks off. "Last time that didn't— That wasn't—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, where?" he murmurs. He doesn't even question that you <i>might not.</i><br/>
<br/>
"The chair. Take your pants off."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a darkly amused smile. "And what about you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine with that."<br/>
<br/>
"Nice, but I want—" He dives in to push you again, but you push him away. "Fine," he mutters. "But if I'm going to owe you, I'm going to give you—"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't owe me anything. Come on, sit down. We only got forty minutes."<br/>
<br/>
Thomas sniggers as he falls back into the fatal chair. As he unbuttons his trousers you slide behind him to fetch down the last mask from the shelf. <i>Carmona needs a teacher anyway,</i> you tell yourself as you embrace Thomas from behind with the mask.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"That wasn't the lunch break I was expecting," you mutter to Cathy when the silence has become awkward. You're buttoning up your shirt—the last change of clothing—and have to suck in your stomach as you bind it up. Thomas likes his clothes tight, the better to show of his gym-sculpted physique, and to keep him off the sugars and carbs that he likes too much. "What?" you ask when you see the secret smile playing about Cathy's lips.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't say anything about this to anyone," you warn her.<br/>
<br/>
"I never do."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean about the masks or anything. Or the girls this morning, or Beatriz or—"<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't going to. I think I know what you want, whatever your name is."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Does she?</i> You give her a doubtful look.<br/>
<br/>
She gasps and laughs and tucks back a strand of her hair. "We got ten minutes," she says. "Why don't I give you that blow job that I—" She catches herself and for a moment looks confused. "That we were talking about a little while ago."<br/>
<br/>
You blink. <i>Why is she suddenly horny?</i> You weren't horny, you were just pretending, when you were in the mask. You turn her gently down. <br/>
<br/>
A few minutes later, after using the urinal in the nearest restroom, you study your new reflection in the mirror as you wash up. Your expression, you notice, falls naturally into the kind of brooding stare that looks like an invitation to rut. And when you twist your face into a stare like you gave Cathy in her office— <i>Yikes!</i> It looks like you're about to reach through the mirror and grab someone's breasts. <br/>
<br/>
No wonder Thomas Luna gets laid all the time, and got laid with a different girl every weekend before settling down with Cathy Schell. He just has to look at a woman, and she'll take it like he's hitting on her!<br/>
<br/>
There's no privacy in the tutors' offices, for not only the door but the walls are made of floor-to-ceiling glass. Only one wall, the one directly behind your desk, is opaque, and you put your back to it as you pull out your cell phone to text Carmona, telling him that you've got a teacher for him, and that he can pick up the mask immediately after school. In the meantime, you'll just have to finish the day as Thomas Luna.<br/>
<br/>
Carmona surprises you with a quick reply, asking if he can come up to the school to see you, as he's finished another mask. You ponder before replying in the affirmative: If Carmona brings that mask up, you decide, you'll be able to finish your first round of infiltrations this afternoon—each of you will have one teacher and two students under your control. But if Miller is going to a catch a senior-level lacrosse player for him, you'd best try to find a sophomore. You take out Luna's register and flip through it, looking for a candidate.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what now?" Carmona asks a few hours later. It's been ninety minutes since the final bell dismissed classes for the day and for the rest of the week. You and he Miller are meeting in Puente's office; for company you have the lacrosse player that she picked out for him: a well-built jock by the name of Noah Lepley. Carmona's sophomore alias, Jared Cochrane, has gone home for the day, as has Anita Nuevo, the captain of the girls' varsity soccer squad, who was Miller's senior-level choice of alias.<br/>
<br/>
But you can them or any of the others up here within the hour, you're sure.<br/>
<br/>
Although maybe you should wait a bit before making such a switch. You feel the need to study the recovered grimoire more closely, and as the teachers you'll be able to set your own schedules, and work in the privacy of your homes without worrying about family or friends busting in on you. On the other hand, you made masks of students so that you could start searching the school for fakes. Maybe you should get onto that.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212113
author_id: seuzz
title: Comical Choices
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>But that doesn't mean you're going to stay this way forever.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, almost as soon as you're on your feet, you change your mind.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm a sophomore again? And a girl? Just like that?</i><br/>
<br/>
Not that there's anything wrong with being a sophomore, or even a girl. But as Evie's mind surges into yours, you cower beneath the alien deluge.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm Evie Cummings and I'm a sophomore and I play soccer for the Westside JV squad because I was tired of being a dork and my best friend Melanie who's at Eastman now talked me into trying out for the team and I've got Hannah Westrick yelling at me all the time probably because she knows I've got a crush on Marc Garner and she wants to humiliate me because she wants him for herself -- </i><br/>
<br/>
A person who looks like Dane Matthias is still passed out on the locker room floor. You peel the mask off him, returning Evie to her old self, and strip off the clothes you'd put on. Then, still wearing Evie's face, you pull on Dane's clothes. They are <i>way</i> too big for you, but you have to get out of there, so you pull the shorts tight with both hands and run for your life with your head down, out the gym and into the parking lot, where you dive into the smelly back seat of Dane's car. You grab your face and rip it off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The narrowness of your escape so frightens you that you abandon your quest and drive back to the school basement. It's a pointless trip, however, for Caleb is nowhere to be seen. You text him, asking where he is. <i>home. y?</i> he replies.<br/>
<br/>
<i>just checking</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>problem?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>no. still looking. talk later</i><br/>
<br/>
You toss Dane's cell aside, feeling very foolish. And yet your heart is still beating from that adventure.<br/>
<br/>
This is going to be harder than it looks.<br/>
<br/>
Because although you want to dive into someplace new and very far away from Dane and Chen and all that shit, you can't just lunge into someone the way you did with ... What was her name? You pick up her mask again to remind yourself. <i>Right. Evelyn Sonia Cummings.</i> A cute girl, and if you'd had a better idea of what you were in for, you might have stuck it out there.<br/>
<br/>
But you need to prepare yourself for a jump. You need to figure out <i>where</i> you're going to jump <i>before</i> you go jumping in.<br/>
<br/>
Thing is, you don't have a copy of Dane's mind to tell you who could get close to.<br/>
<br/>
And that reminds you: You're going to need to make another mask before you can even get yourself into someone else.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey, thanks for showing up," you yell up at Caleb after he's come in. "I need your help."<br/>
<br/>
"You need lots of help, Will," he says as he saunters down the basement stairs. His expression is wary. "What are you doing back here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I messed up, I have to make another mask. Can you polish that up for me?" You point to the mask you made a little while ago; the acrid stench from its production still lingers in the air. "I'm kind of busy here." You're bent over a metal band, carving runes into it.<br/>
<br/>
"Leaving the scut work to me, huh? But what happened to the other mask you were taking out?"<br/>
<br/>
"I messed up, got it onto the wrong person. So I have to make a new one, try again."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb explodes "Jesus! You fucked it up? And now you want me to help you after you fucked it up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't fuck up, man! I just -- "<br/>
<br/>
"How many of these fucking things do we gotta make, man? How many do we gotta make for <i>you?</i> May I remind you that I have yet to get any real benefit from -- ?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whose book is it, asshole?"<br/>
<br/>
He turns bright red. "If that's your fucking attitude -- "<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that!" You suck in a deep breath. "I'm just nervous is all. I mean, I have to get out of Dane's mask and into someplace else, and I gotta do it quick. So help me out, please? You help me make this one, to replace the one I fucked up, and I promise, I'll make the next one for you, all of it, polishing and everything!"<br/>
<br/>
"Tsh!" He glowers, but drops heavily onto a seat. "Fine. But don't fuck this one up."<br/>
<br/>
"I won't, I learned my lesson. I'm gonna be real careful, think real hard about what I'm doing before I do it."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." Caleb picks up the blank mask and the buffer. Before he starts it up, though, he asks what happened after you left.<br/>
<br/>
"I wound up by the school, saw the girls' soccer team practicing. One of the girls came in off the field and I followed her inside and put the mask on her."<br/>
<br/>
"A girl?" His jaw drops. "You were gonna turn yourself into a -- Dude!" He grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. She was cute."<br/>
<br/>
"That's awesome! Why didn't you stick it out?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna come over there and -- "<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna sit there and take it," Caleb chortles long and hard. "How could that possibly be a fuck up?"<br/>
<br/>
You hunch your shoulders and shrug. "I got her mask on. All her memories came rushing in. It freaked me out. 'Cos she's a sophomore and she's, um -- "<br/>
<br/>
"She's what?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was just real different, okay? Everything about her was different from what I was used to. And I guess I panicked. I pulled her mask off and ran out and came here. But I'm gonna do it different this time!" you exclaim. "I'm going to think about where I'm going, so it won't be a shock to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever. What did you do with the mask of the girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"Brought it back. It's over there." You nod at a table.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stretches to pick it up. "Evelyn Sonia Cummings," he says, reading the band inside it.<br/>
<br/>
"You know her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope. But you said she was cute? Maybe," he muses in a puckish way, "maybe I'll take it home with me, change into it after I've locked my door and gone to bed. See what it was about her that scared the piss out of you."<br/>
<br/>
You return his shit-eating grin with a glare.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
All talk is suspended during the forty minutes it takes Caleb to polish up that mask, but you talk some more when he's done. He gives you a clue about where Dane might find some friends you could copy and replace. "Try the comic book stores. Or Arnholm's. I've seen him around those places. Or the vape shops. Christ, they probably see him around those places so much they're sick of him."<br/>
<br/>
That seems like a good suggestion, and the timing is right, for it's early afternoon when you're done with the new mask. Caleb warns you that you'd better make this next one count, because he's not going to help you if you fuck up again.<br/>
<br/>
Your first try took place at Westside High. For your second, you head across town, to Ginormous Robot Comics, directly across the street from Eastman High. There aren't many people there, though, and none of them pay you any heed, so you drive a couple of blocks over to King Kong Komics.<br/>
<br/>
Jackpot. And then some.<br/>
<br/>
"Dane!" someone yells from the adjoining sandwich shop. It takes you a moment to remember who you're supposed to be, and swivel on them with a grin. <i>You know those guys!</i><br/>
<br/>
It's Christian Knouse and his friends: RPGers. You don't know them real well, but you know their names and their types. The smart-aleck Christian; the dopey Howie Baylor; the goth-wannabe Braydon Delp; and Darrell Parson, who is like a sleepier version of yourself. They're spread around a table with some dice and worksheets, and they beckon to you with friendly grins.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's three other figures who have turned at Christian's exclamation and are nodding at you in a friendly way. These you know a little better, for you share some classes with them: Andy Tackett and Karl Hennepin and Tim Gerard. These are creative writing types. Karl in his paint-spattered jeans and pullover and sandals is a would-be poet; Andy Tackett, despite his buzz cut, deep voice, and trim physique is a would-be writer; and Tim Gerard, with his curly hair and sensitive features is a ... Well, you're not sure what he is, but the girls all think he's adorable.<br/>
<br/>
He's got one with him now. You don't know her name, even though you've seen her around. She's dressed down like them in a t-shirt and jeans and dark, badly scuffed shoes, with a ski cap pulled down over her long brown hair. She looks at you with intelligent curiosity from behind black-rimmed glasses.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, it's Dane!" You turn back to Christian's group. Only it's not his group calling your name again. It's another quartet, back near the register, and you've never seen them before that you remember. Two guys and two girls. They look very fresh and clean and somewhat athletic. It takes you a moment to figure out why that is.<br/>
<br/>
Then you realize why they look that way, and why you don't know them. The two guys are wearing Eastman High letterman jackets.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Eastman High.</i> If you wanted to get away Chen while staying in the same town, that would be a good place to go. Except for what you told yourself: You are going to know something about the person you're trying to become.<br/>
<br/>
No one seems to hold it against you that you keep swiveling your head in something of a daze. <i>Eastman High -- Far from Chen, but you don't know them. Hennepin's group -- Attractive, but some like the weed. The RPGers? Far from Chen, but kind of dopey.</i></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121133
author_id: rugal
title: Go East, Man
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You continue weighing your options or at least the two that look most viable.<br/>
<br/>
Christian's RPG gang would likely be the easiest to slip into as they're the most like you and your friends though not exactly. If you had to be honest, you've always found them to be even worse. They're not bad people or anything but for the most part they fit right into cartoonish role of the nerds obsessed with their nerd activities to the point of being quite pedantic about every little detail. You'd hung out with them in the past but it was that vibe that caused you, Caleb and Keith to drift away from them.<br/>
<br/>
There's also the fact that, like you, they're going to have their share of bullies and what would be the point of switching into another, presumably better, life if it wasn't much better?<br/>
<br/>
Well there is <i>one</i> large difference that would make it better. You watch as she walks through the door carrying some sodas and other snacks. She spots you and gives a small wave and a smile while you dopily wave back. You feel a small sinking feeling in your chest as she then sits down next to Braydon and plants a large, sloppy kiss on him.<br/>
<br/>
Gillian Keifer is someone you wish would give <i>you</i> those large, sloppy kisses. But she has only a passing familiarity with Will Prescott and that aside she's obviously taken. Of course if you used the mask on Braydon... oh, but then you'd have to be Braydon and as much as Gillian is a turn on, Braydon is a turn off. He's someone you've always found weird to the point of creepy and uncomfortable. You don't think he's a bad guy but there's something about him you've never quite liked.<br/>
<br/>
Of course you could use the mask on Gillian if you wanted to run your hands all over her body so much... but that thought quickly goes away because, again, Braydon and that thought causes you to shudder.<br/>
<br/>
So you turn towards Karl's group, the wannabe artistes. You've had some interactions with them but not a whole lot aside from sharing classes here and there. Neither Karl nor Andy hold much appeal but Tim... well, something about him attracts the girls. He'd definitely be a great spot for you and a real step up. You've seen some of the girls he and his friends hang around with though names mostly escape you. There's this really cute hippie girl for instance. You could probably get her, or any of them, through Tim.<br/>
<br/>
But that doesn't put you anywhere away from Chen. In fact, it puts you nearly as close. These guys, true to their artsy reputation, enjoy getting high. That means they have to get their weed from somewhere and <i>that</i> means the likely source is Chen himself. That thought scares you because even if it's just to buy some weed you don't want to interact with Chen in any capacity and you half wonder if any of these guys sell too and if so, is it for him or against him?<br/>
<br/>
Neither possibility is very reassuring.<br/>
<br/>
So that leaves the Eastman group.<br/>
<br/>
You'd dismissed them because you knew nothing about them and didn't want to make the same mistake you'd made stepping into Evie's mask. But you think and it's not really stepping into the unknown that freaked you out but the way it happened. You hadn't given any thought to it, you just did it. You didn't have time to prepare yourself and psych yourself up for what was going to happen. That wouldn't be the case this time though. Besides, your goal was to get someone as unconnected from all of this drug shit as possible and you can't get more unconnected than someone from a different school.<br/>
<br/>
But are they unconnected? They known Dane so does that mean they get high too? If they do, where do they get their stuff from? But that's just paranoia. If Dane hangs around the comic shop quite a bit, then maybe these people are just regulars who have struck up a rapport. Dane's a likable guy after all.<br/>
<br/>
So with a little reassurance, you firmly make your decision and head over to the Eastman group.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"Yo, dude! It's been a minute hasn't it," states one of the guys. He's taller and lean yet well muscled where he needs to be. Hazel eyes sit on either side of a perfectly sized nose. His face overall has a very friendly and handsome look to it. The only thing stopping him from looking like he stepped out of some dream of someone pining for the nineteen-fifties is his hair that hangs flat.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah it has I guess," you tell him as you smile weakly. He gives off a nice vibe but without Dane's mind you have no clue who he is.<br/>
<br/>
He eyes you oddly. "I know it's been a while since we've dropped by here but you've forgotten us already," he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well it's not like you come down here all that much," states the girl clasping his arm. "I'm down here way more often."<br/>
<br/>
She's shorter than him, not a surprise since he's tall, but if she comes up to the middle of his bicep she'd be lucky. Her eyes, sitting behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, are a pale, almost icy blue. They contrast with her thick, long dark hair. You can't help but think there's something vaguely familiar about her but someone that pretty you'd definitely have more than a vague memory of.<br/>
<br/>
Of course even if Dane's seen her more often you wouldn't remember so you just give a kind of dopey grin while the other guy speaks up.<br/>
<br/>
"C'mon Julianna, he's probably too baked to remember," he says.<br/>
<br/>
He's shorter and leaner than his male friend. His face, like his friend's, is handsome but where the other guy's is friendly and inviting, there's an intensity to his. His somewhat swarthier appearance made to look even darker by deep brown eyes that look as if he's squinting just a bit from the light.<br/>
<br/>
"Stop being such a prick," states the other girl as she punches him in the shoulder. "Fucker," she adds with a playful annoyance.<br/>
<br/>
She's only a bit shorter than him with her chestnut hair tied back in a short ponytail. A green and white (the colors of your cross town rivals) t-shirt with the image of an old style megaphone and pom-poms that reads "Eastman High School Cheerleading" hangs loosely over short athletic shorts that hug muscular thighs.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh come on Leslie, you can practically smell it on him," he replies before flashing you a grin. "Besides, I'm just messing with him."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's all good" you say lazily and as blissfully unaware of any possible insult as you can project.<br/>
<br/>
The first guy, whose name you eventually learn is Timothy Johnson. invites you to hang out with them for a bit while they're in there. During the course of the fifteen or so minutes you're around you learn that the four of them had just finished lunch when Timothy's girlfriend, Julianna Seaton, had wanted to make a quick comic run and that jogs your memory: you've seen her in here a few times before though always alone and never with the courage to approach her.<br/>
<br/>
The other two you eventually learn are Nick Stathis, a friend of Timothy's and member of the baseball team, and Leslie Keys who's Nick's girlfriend and on Eastman's cheerleading squad. You find that you're enjoying their company and when they mention a party later this evening at the house of another Eastman student you eagerly ask if it'd be cool for you to drop by. Timothy mentions that there'll probably be some Westsiders there so it's not like there's any harm.<br/>
<br/>
You get an address and bid them farewell. There was no way you'd get one of them here but at a party? You shoot a text to Caleb telling him of you'll have a new home by tonight.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
The party's held at the home of someone named Amanda Conners who you, again, don't know but you learn as you're there is one of the big shots on Eastman's apparently really good girls' basketball team. Timothy was right about the Westsiders since you notice more than a few, mainly among the AP set: Deanna Showalter, Ricky Golia, Amanda Ferguson... Lisa and Mansfield. Your heart skips at that and you do what you can to avoid them.<br/>
<br/>
It's how you end up hanging out with another group of people and ones who seem more likely to associate with Dane... well mostly: Lisa Rickover carries an imperious air about her while her friend, Summer Nguyen, is reserved to a level you've never seen. But the others--the pierced Terry Fitzgerald, his doe-eyed and lavender-haired girlfriend Lisa Palacki and the wiry, semi-androgynous Chris Yves--are more natural with Dane. Especially once Lisa and Summer leave.<br/>
<br/>
Much like with the others at the comic shop, you find these three fairly agreeable. Chris might be intense but that's more passion than bitchiness on her part. In fact, the whole Eastman scene seems more agreeable. You find it's easy to "stay in character" too, or rather the character you've created for Dane. Just hang back, laugh and offer nothing substantive and nobody seems to pay you any mind.<br/>
<br/>
That should make it easier to pull off a switch, you hope. You'd come with the hope of grabbing one of the four from the comic shop, Timothy preferably but any would do, but haven't had much luck in catching them around. One of your current companions though? That could be much easier.<br/>
<br/>
But another thought gets you. Lisa and Summer, the two girls that were here... chatter after they'd left informed you that they're part of the so-called Rumoratti: a nickname for a group of Eastman girls keyed into every bit of gossip at the school and even a fair bit outside of it. The other members are Natalie Dawkins, Maddy Caron, Tina Branson and Mandy Simpson with the group being led by Alyssa Randall, head cheerleader and Eastman's queen bee.<br/>
<br/>
You're moving on from Westside but there's still a lingering paranoia over how far Chen's reach extends. Likewise you'd probably still find yourself curious about what's happening there. All of that and you'd need an excuse to talk to Caleb in your new guise. Grabbing one of the Rumoratti, while ambitious, would check off every box.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211331
author_id: rugal
title: The Secret Lives of Class Presidents
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You brush those thoughts off to the side however as you reassure yourself that your paranoia is just that. Chen's not going to stalk you like a monster from a slasher film--though he may be as scary as one--and show up to completely fuck you up. Besides if you were someone like Timothy or Nick, guys who look like they can handle themselves, you'd probably be alright on the off chance that did occur. Which it wouldn't since you'd also be part of a team with guys who would, presumably, have your back. For all that he's one scary motherfucker, even Gary Chen knows that he'd be overreaching if he tried to start shit with the big time jocks at Westside so Eastman would be no different.<br/>
<br/>
So you push the thought of getting any of the gossip girls out of your mind. They'd be great for settling into a new environment but realistically how would you get them? For one, if they're rumormongers they're going to get themselves into any crowd of people they can worm their way into. They'll likely always be surrounded which would make pulling off any switch impossible.<br/>
<br/>
For another you only have names to go off of and have no clue what they look like. Well, you have Lisa and Summer but both leave you unsure. Summer was very meek, almost withdrawn and seemed reluctant to jump into your conversation. How is she one of the top gossip hounds then? Being her would mean playing her role correctly and you're not sure you like the idea of being someone so mousey. And Lisa? There was something about her that unsettled you. She had a very calculating air about her as if she was regarding and analyzing everything around her. It was intimidating and she seems to have such strong defenses that you don't think you'd ever be able to penetrate them.<br/>
<br/>
Your current companions are not faring any better either. Lisa looks nice but seems to lack a certain assertiveness. She seems deferential to her boyfriend who in turn seems deferential to Chris who seems like someone that would dominate any room she's in. She's intense and no-nonsense, something you find out when another guy she keeps calling Karter makes his way over. The pair engage in a game that, as you watch, leaves you unable to tell if it's simple flirtatiousness or a genuine case of Chris getting bugged.<br/>
<br/>
You do know that this guy is striking you as rather obnoxious and watching him act like an annoying child around Chris and her constant chastising is starting to wear on your nerves. If this is the kind of crap you'd have to put up with if you were any of them, then it just plain doesn't seem worth it to you.<br/>
<br/>
After a few more minutes of this you decide that you've reached your wits end. Coming up with an excuse that you don't even remember five seconds later but you feel is suitably "Dane", you decide to grab the bag with your stuff, head out and explore around a bit trying to see if you can find your original targets. You'd come here with a goal in mind, afterall, and realize that you've been allowing yourself to get distracted by other things. Well, it's time to truly, for real this time, stick to your goal as you head back into the main part of the house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
You resume your search for the people you saw at the comic book shop but like before there's no luck there. You do find yourself pulled this way and that as various people greet you as you walk through the party. Dane, it seems, is more popular than you'd expected. Not that you should be surprised, Dane's a social butterfly and a really nice guy who you've seen getting along with types of people you wouldn't have expected him to at Westside.<br/>
<br/>
You are surprised though, at least from the fact that Eastman people seem to know him. You yourself have never known any Eastman students and have always viewed the schools as two worlds that don't interact like two parallel Earths. Maybe that's just your own bias though since you've never been the social butterfly type. There probably is something of an overlap there you realize between Eastman and Westside students, especially considering that Saratoga Falls isn't the biggest city around.<br/>
<br/>
As you're going through all of this, one thing does catch your attention. A group of girls squealing quietly together talking amongst themselves about a guy named James. You wonder for a second if they mean Lamont but you can see them looking in the general direction of a guy, slight of frame, dressed all in black with dark hair. His boyish face portrays a nervousness and unease as if he's unsure of his surroundings.<br/>
<br/>
You don't think you'd have thought anything of him but these girls seem to. Something about him reminds you of Braydon and you're struck by another difference between Eastman and Westside. Braydon is kept in a spot of semi-unpopularity while this guy seems to have a fanclub. You've notice that there does seem to be more of a mixture of "castes" here than you'd get at Westside.<br/>
<br/>
This is made even clearer when you see Chris from earlier talking with another girl, one with mahogany hair and clothes that look quite expensive. That'd be Kristy Carlson, one of the first people pointed out to you at the party. The Carlsons are one of the richest families in Saratoga Falls, maybe second only to the Strausslers.<br/>
<br/>
The fact someone like her could engage so casually with someone like Chris, something that would be unthinkable at Westside, reinforces your belief that switching to Eastman is the better choice.<br/>
<br/>
But while that's all good, you still don't find who you're looking for... until they find you.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," comes a soft voice and you turn to see Julianna who comes up behind you and grabs your arm. "Lets hang out privately together, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um, sure," you state in a very unsure and confused manner as the pair of you walk towards and out the front door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
The pair of you wind up sitting in her car and you find yourself feeling very nervous. You're not sure why she wants to sit with you, well Dane, specifically and all alone at that and you find yourself glancing nervously out the window to see if Timothy might pop up to mop the floor with you for being with his girl.<br/>
<br/>
That's why it takes you a moment to notice the odd, strong smell of something burning. You turn and are shocked to see Julianna with what you think is a cigarette but quickly come to realize is a joint. "Whoa, what're you doing," you ask in a way that's definitely more characteristic of Dane.<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh, I'm sorry I shouldn't be hogging," she says as she holds the joint out to you. You refuse however, another uncharacteristic move for Dane. "Oh, I figured, you know, you would since you seem like that kind of guy," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that why you invited me out here," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"But not, um, Timothy?"<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head. "Oh no, not him! He doesn't know I..." she cuts herself off, "I mean I'm not doing some hard drug or something but still I don't think he'd like it if he knew I was getting high."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm surprised too," you tell her and at this point you've mostly dropped the fake Dane persona you've been using.<br/>
<br/>
Julianna, for her part, doesn't seem to notice. "I'm surprised too. Tell me two months ago that I'd be smoking it and I'd have called you nuts," she sighs. "But it's hard. Being class president, even if it's the junior class, having to keep my grades up, extracurricular stuff... it's hard! My parents expect it and Timothy, I love him, but he expects it too."<br/>
<br/>
"You're class president," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh, yeah," she groans. "I mean it's going to look great and I want to do what's good for the school but it feels like it was kind of forced on me. It was Timothy, he suggested I run since he was moving up. I actually had him run for senior class president since I thought it'd be nice if we both held top positions. I'd feel a little more comfortable with the pressure if he was there too but he lost and..."<br/>
<br/>
She looks at the joint and then takes another hit off of it.<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she started smoking to help deal with the pressures she feels she's facing having to be one of the top students at the school. Well, you're alone in her car. You have a mask in your bag. You could relieve her of that pressure. But part of you wants to hold out for Timothy as well. You imagine yourself, as him, holding her in your arms as you comfort and encourage her.<br/>
<br/>
But as you ponder this something catches your eye. Heading out to a car parked near where your sitting is Kristy... and she's heading there alone. Is she getting ready to leave and head home? You don't know but the thought quickly occurs to you that if you want to set yourself up good in Eastman, maybe it'd be a good idea to excuse yourself and make your way to her car. You look again at Julianna and wonder if her and Kristy are friends or know each other? Well, they could be and wouldn't being in good with someone as obscenely wealthy as Kristy go a long way to de-stressing her?</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211333
author_id: rugal
title: In the Know
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You brush those thoughts off to the side however as you reassure yourself that your paranoia is just that. Chen's not going to stalk you like a monster from a slasher film--though he may be as scary as one--and show up to completely fuck you up. Besides if you were someone like Timothy or Nick, guys who look like they can handle themselves, you'd probably be alright on the off chance that did occur. Which it wouldn't since you'd also be part of a team with guys who would, presumably, have your back. For all that he's one scary motherfucker, even Gary Chen knows that he'd be overreaching if he tried to start shit with the big time jocks at Westside so Eastman would be no different.<br/>
<br/>
So you push the thought of getting any of the gossip girls out of your mind. They'd be great for settling into a new environment but realistically how would you get them? For one, if they're rumormongers they're going to get themselves into any crowd of people they can worm their way into. They'll likely always be surrounded which would make pulling off any switch impossible.<br/>
<br/>
For another you only have names to go off of and have no clue what they look like. Well, you have Lisa and Summer but both leave you unsure. Summer was very meek, almost withdrawn and seemed reluctant to jump into your conversation. How is she one of the top gossip hounds then? Being her would mean playing her role correctly and you're not sure you like the idea of being someone so mousey. And Lisa? There was something about her that unsettled you. She had a very calculating air about her as if she was regarding and analyzing everything around her. It was intimidating and she seems to have such strong defenses that you don't think you'd ever be able to penetrate them.<br/>
<br/>
Your current companions are not faring any better either. Lisa looks nice but seems to lack a certain assertiveness. She seems deferential to her boyfriend who in turn seems deferential to Chris who seems like someone that would dominate any room she's in. She's intense and no-nonsense, something you find out when another guy she keeps calling Karter makes his way over. The pair engage in a game that, as you watch, leaves you unable to tell if it's simple flirtatiousness or a genuine case of Chris getting bugged.<br/>
<br/>
You do know that this guy is striking you as rather obnoxious and watching him act like an annoying child around Chris and her constant chastising is starting to wear on your nerves. If this is the kind of crap you'd have to put up with if you were any of them, then it just plain doesn't seem worth it to you.<br/>
<br/>
After a few more minutes of this you decide that you've reached your wits end. Coming up with an excuse that you don't even remember five seconds later but you feel is suitably "Dane", you decide to grab the bag with your stuff, head out and explore around a bit trying to see if you can find your original targets. You'd come here with a goal in mind, afterall, and realize that you've been allowing yourself to get distracted by other things. Well, it's time to truly, for real this time, stick to your goal as you head back into the main part of the house.<br/>
<br/>
But all the time you're wondering what you should do if you're unable to find who you were looking for?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
You spend the next hour going around the party getting pulled this way and that by random people that you don't recognize but who certainly recognize the face you're wearing. Maybe you shouldn't be surprised that Dane is well known to some Eastman students, after all he's an outgoing social butterfly; almost the complete opposite of you really. In fact, keeping to yourself or your small group of friends and never having any interaction with anyone from Eastman has caused you to think of the two schools almost as parallel worlds.<br/>
<br/>
In hindsight you realize that's a dumb assumption. Saratoga Falls is a fairly medium sized city, certainly not a large metropolis, so of course there would be some crossover between students.<br/>
<br/>
It does solidify your decision to move to Eastman but it doesn't mean you <i>can</i>. Not if you can't find anyone and currently you've had zero luck on that front. Well you have seen a few of them: Timothy with who you assume are some of his teammates. Nick and Leslie with a few of their friends. But those situations mean they're not anywhere where you can get them alone either. As for Julianna, you haven't seen hide nor hair of her and you're surprised she's not hanging around her boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
You're about ready to give up and maybe go back to see if you can find Chris or her buddies when you hear a little bit of chatter from around a corner.<br/>
<br/>
"So that's why Kristy left," asks one voice in a soft, almost creamy tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Right," comes another, distinctly twanged one. "I watched her get real agitated when she saw Kelsey."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not surprising though," comes a third, slightly huskier voice. "Both of them have hated each other for a long, long time."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a bit more than that, Maddie," comes the twanged voice. "I mean I was talkin' to Kristy at the time an' then Kelsey 'n her pals walk by us an' give her a look. Like they were sayin' 'hey, we wanna talk to you' or somethin', ya know?"<br/>
<br/>
You look in the direction of the voices and see three girls: an African-American with arms and legs that are well defined. A redhead whose hair is a very deep natural shade. A dark-haired girl with a chest that would put Chelsea's to shame. All three are very beautiful and you're starting to get a strong feeling as to who they are, especially when hearing the name Maddie, so you hang back and try to listen in on what's going on.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like Kristy didn't know she was here, though," says the African-American girl. "I was talking to Kelsey for a while myself."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know," says the redhead, "but knowin' that she's here an' <i>seein'</i> her?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not good though," states the dark-haired girl. "Kristy can't just let Kelsey try and big time her. Her family's more well off anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"It ain't about that, least I don't think it is," says the redhead. "Kristy's a nice girl, it just ain't in her to risk confrontation."<br/>
<br/>
"Even still," says the African-American girl, a look of consternation drawn on her face, "we'll need to come up with something. We can't have people thinking that Kristy left because she felt intimidated by Kelsey being here."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not," asks the redhead. "It'll just make Kelsey look like a heel. She's comin' to <i>our</i> party an' tryin' to start trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"Or it'll make Kristy, and by extension our school, look weak," counters the dark-haired girl.<br/>
<br/>
"Right," states the African-American girl who, from her demeanor, seems to take a leadership role among the group, "because how will it look if Kelsey, or anyone from Westside, comes to our party and manages to run off our students?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it ain't like we hate Westside or nothin'," states the redhead, "we're friends with a lot of 'em. 'Specially some of the cheerleaders."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, and this isn't about denigrating Westside or anything," the African-American girl replies, "but about keeping our reputation. So Maddie and I will find everyone else. Tell them that, for now, Kristy was feeling sick. I want you to start texting her, Tina, and see if you can figure out if that's why she left in the first place. We'll coordinate something with her to make sure she doesn't lose face."<br/>
<br/>
You watch as the three disperse and make specific note of the redhead as she, deciding for a little privacy and quiet to do her thing, heads off into an unused room. Slowly, warily, you follow her and as you get close to the room that she's entered reach a hand into your bag. You'd brushed off one of this group earlier but you can't really look a gift horse in the mouth.<br/>
<br/>
She barely has time to turn before the mask is pushed onto her face.<br/>
<br/>
You close and lock the door behind you and raise your hands to remove your own mask. You come to and are thankful that coming out of a mask is quicker than the copying process itself. That gives you time to carefully strip her from her clothes, finishing just as the mask emerges from her face. You then shove Dane's mask onto her, strip out of your clothes and, finding a closet, gather her things as you make your way in leaving the door open a crack. Through it, you watch her waking up, her initial confusion, shock and terror. Then her seeming resignation as she gets dressed.<br/>
<br/>
Will she try to tell her friends? Maybe but who will believe her? Once she's left, you again close and lock the bedroom door and put her mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Seventeen years old and originally from Huntsville, Alabama. Your mom, a kindly and somewhat plump woman, works as a teacher at Schuyler. Your dad's a lifelong military man and as such, much as your mom wanted to keep you in one place, after a while it became infeasible and your dad's transfers have led to you living in North Carolina, New Jersey and Tennessee before his transfer here to Fort Suffolk. It was through that shared connection of the base that you made your first friend at Eastman, Diana Lord whose father is the highest ranking officer there.<br/>
<br/>
It was through her that you fell in with Alyssa Randall's group and met Maddie Caron who, despite opposite personalities, has become something close to your best friend in this city.<br/>
<br/>
Then you snap back to reality. Since putting on the mask with the band you've been having to fight not getting overwhelmed.<br/>
<br/>
"Sweet lord, I really am Tina Branson," you say thrilling at the southern lilt that sounds so sweet to your ears.<br/>
<br/>
You regard your face in the car's rear view mirror. Deep set green eyes sparkle brilliantly, your cheeks dusted by light freckles. Your nose and chin have a bit of a point to them but it adds to the charm. You can hardly believe the girl looking back at you is, well, you!<br/>
<br/>
"Well now," you say with a smirk, "ain't this somethin'?"</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221212
author_id: seuzz
title: One Brain, Two Bodies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I think I can cover for myself, thanks," Caleb says in reply to your offer.<br/>
<br/>
But you're distracted by another thought—the thought of using this new spell on Gary Chen—so Caleb's comment yanks you back to the present. "Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"God, is <i>that</i> what I sound like? 'Huh?'" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, probably," you say with a very Caleb-like wave of your hand. "Look, it's no trouble, I can cover for you at home, and maybe I should in case Eva—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'll go home myself," he says, very loudly and firmly. "You go back to cover for Dane."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going back there, not with Chen on the loose," you repeat.<br/>
<br/>
"You're worried too much about that."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course I'm worried! It's fucking <i>Chen,</i> and he's out twenty-two thousand dollars, and he's got permission to do anything short of killing me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Killing Dane, you mean," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"And who's living inside Dane's skin these days?"<br/>
<br/>
"You could always let Dane out," Caleb says. "Let him go back to being himself. He'd just think it was a bizarre hallucination he'd been having. You can go back to being Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"So you mean I should let Chen kill Dane."<br/>
<br/>
"He <i>can't</i> kill Dane," Caleb says through gritted teeth. "Didn't you just get through saying he can do everything just short of killing Matthias?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just don't want to see <i>Dane</i> getting it in the neck. Listen, I've got an idea—"<br/>
<br/>
"I've got an idea too," says Caleb. "My idea is to go home. It's getting late. Your sleeping bag and stuff is still here, isn't it? Then you can camp out here if you don't want to go back to playing Dane." He starts to leave.<br/>
<br/>
"Will you hang on and listen to this idea I've got?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
He turns, and his manner is a little frosty. "I'll make you a deal," he says. "Since you want to share your idea, and since you're having a lot of fun inside my head, how about—" He grabs one of the many metal strips you've made over the last few days, and dangles it between his fingertips. "Gimme a copy of <i>your</i> head."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace as you take it from him. "I shoulda known that's what you'd say."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At least he has the grace to not put it on in front of you. In fact, he's already left by the time you recover from the swoon after putting it on; indeed, while you were out he seemingly took care of all the business that needed taking care of. The last thing you remember is laying back to take off his mask, and when you woke you found that not only was he gone and you were back in your own skin, but your sleeping bag had been rolled out and the book laid open so you can start reading up on the next spell.<br/>
<br/>
And when you look around, you find that he's taken his own mask and brain band with him.<br/>
<br/>
You're a little miffed at that, for it seems like a sign that he doesn't trust you with them. <i>Doesn't trust you?</i> Like you'd really like to move in on his life, to live in that shitty little house alone with his mother; to worry and gnaw at the wound of his father's abandonment when he was a kid; to chase hard after good grades and career contacts so he can win himself a solid, rewarding job so he can get a wife and family that <i>he</i> won't abandon; to stagger through the school halls with an erect cock and a frozen tongue at the sight of all the girls who he's sure won't even talk to him—<br/>
<br/>
You rub thoughtfully at your forehead. <i>Did Caleb really pull that metal strip off of you?</i> You have a raw feeling inside you, as though something has been torn away, and you've lost that sense that you've got another person riding around under your skin. But the memories and impressions seem very vivid, and thoughts you recognize as not your own keep popping up unbidden. You wince hard at some of the jokes that Keith Tilley was making behind your back about you and Lisa, and silently vow to get back at him somehow. And the thoughts keep coming even after you've bent over the grimoire in the dim light of Caleb's laptop, checking the translation of the ingredients against the supplies he'd started to set out.<br/>
<br/>
It's not a hard spell, and it uses many of the same liquids and powders you'd gathered for the first two spells, and after about twenty minutes you're able to set a bowl of the slurry-like liquid onto the sigil in the book. As directed by the instructions, you run your finger three times around the circle and set a flame to it. It flashes into a brief fire, then goes out. The page beneath turns when you lift the bowl.<br/>
<br/>
There is only a short paragraph on he other side, and the on-line Latin translator gives a straight-forward interpretation: It's a glue that lets you attach one of those metal strips to the inner surface of a mask. <i>Cool!</i> That means you'd be able to put the strip and the mask on at the same time instead of in two separate steps. And on mulling it over, you think you see another benefit: You could get a mask and mind-strip onto a victim in one blow if you glued a blank strip into a blank mask. Like if you got that kind of combination onto Gary Chen.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you reflect grimly an hour later as you slip into the sleeping bag, you'll have to convince Caleb to go along with the plan. And he's being such a turd that he might not want to.<br/>
<br/>
He's got a point, you admit to yourself as sleep begins to take you. It probably would be easier to just take Dane out of Gordon's mask, and let him take the consequences for what you've done. Isn't that what you've been doing since you started playing with these things? Letting others pay the price for your fuck-ups by sticking them into the lives you've fucked up?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You come out of the sleeping bag with a shout, and you almost come out of your body as well. "M'huh?" you gasp, and blink in panic at the figure advancing on you.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you still doing asleep?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink up at the person, but it's only Caleb, and so you try to slow your heartbeat back to something under five hundred thumps a minute.<br/>
<br/>
He squats next to you and holds out a tall paper cup. It's hot to the touch. "My treat," he says of the coffee. "I had to beg the money off my mom. Anyway, I'm hoping we can get it back later today. Tomorrow at the latest, maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about? What <i>time</i> is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"A little after nine." He sets a heavy plastic sack down by your side. "You know how many places are open this early on a Sunday? A lot more than you'd think, thank God."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow down a great gulp of bitter coffee, and it scalds your throat. But it shocks you into semi-coherence. "You were shopping?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I had to pick up the shit if we're gonna nail Chen this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
You're raising the coffee to your lips again, but stop before you can choke in surprise on it. "Chen? What are you talking about Chen for?" Your heart starts to thump again.<br/>
<br/>
"That is what you wanted to talk to me about, isn't it?" he asks. "Just before you put that brain-thingy on, you were thinking about using a mask on him. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gyuh?" That was the last thing you expected him to say. "You, uh, you're cool with doing that?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shrugs tightly. "Well, it makes sense. You <i>don't</i> want him coming after you, right?" He's avoiding your eye, and falls silent. Then he speaks again in a rush as you continue to stare at him. "Look, that was something else I saw last night when I had the, uh, the thing in my head. I didn't realize just how fucking scary Dane's cousin is. So, you know, it makes sense, this idea you've got." He pauses. "I don't wanna see Dane all fucked up either," he adds quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"So, we're gonna—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He opens the sack. "I borrowed enough from my mom to make one more mask. Besides—" A nasty little gleam comes into his eye. "I figure that Chen knows how to turn that shit we took off him into cash. So if we swap one of us in for Chen—" He rolls his tongue around the inside of his cheek. "We can keep his profits for ourselves!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Thank goodness for that car buffer; with its help, you're able to get the new mask made and polished up inside of an hour. As you work, you explain the new spell to Caleb, and he agrees that it could be used to attach a blank strip to the blank mask, for taking Chen in one fast blow. As for Chen himself, you put on Dane's mask, then make a phone call. "Oh man," you gasp excitedly when he answers. "Like, I finally remembered where I put that stuff!"<br/>
<br/>
He is guarded: "What are you talking about, Matthias?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your stuff, man. Gordon didn't get it, I put it in a new place, but I was <i>baked,</i> man, when I did it, that's how come I was all, like, uh, Patrick Star when you asked me where it was."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is listening intently, and his eyebrows shoot up. "Patrick Star?" he mouths incredulously.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? So bring it to me," Chen says.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't," you say. "It's up at the school and I can't reach it. Yeah, I can't reach it," you repeat. "It's up in— I don't know what it is, but it's back up in this space thing where I can't get to it, but maybe you can? You know, 'cos, you're, like, stronger than me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not making any sense," Chen says, but consents to meet you at the portables at three-thirty. You hang up with a sigh of relief.<br/>
<br/>
"So which of us gets to be Chen?" Caleb asks.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212121
author_id: seuzz
title: Change for a Chen
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So which of us gets to be Chen," Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You can't be serious," you exclaim. "Not about putting Chen under <i>your</i> mask, taking over <i>your</i> life, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Give me a little credit! No, we put Chen under Dane's mask, but I step in for Chen. You can, you know--" He turns shy. "Do like you were doing last night."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you didn't like that last night. You seemed really creeped out."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I didn't like that, but what I hate even more is the way you keep getting us into deeper trouble every time we make one of these changes."<br/>
<br/>
You're so insulted you can't even reply, so he just keeps talking.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Chen is really bad news," he says. "If you couldn't handle <i>Dane</i>--"<br/>
<br/>
You shove him in the chest. "Fuck you! You think you could do a better job of it than me? In what fucking universe? Anyway, this time is gonna be different, I'll have Chen's brain in there with me, I won't have any surprises to deal with. That's how come I fucked up as Dane, 'cos I didn't know he was in business with fucking Fin Fang Foom!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks pissed, but he relents. And maybe he's a little relieved as well, for quickly falls into accord as you plot out how to catch Chen.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You grin widely as Chen gets out of his Jeep. "Hey! You made it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course I made it, you fucking lunatic," he says, and slams his door hard. He advances on you menacingly. "So where's the shit?"<br/>
<br/>
You're up at Westside, so you point toward the nearby gym. "Back at the portables. Don't be mad at me." You try putting your arm in his.<br/>
<br/>
Bad move: Chen swings at your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Ow! Don't be so--"<br/>
<br/>
He grabs a fistful of your hair and hauls you close. "You take me to the fucking stash, and if it's there, and if it's <i>all</i> there--" His voice dissolves into a strangled choke, and he twists your hair until your scalp screams. "If this isn't another <i>colossal fuck up,</i> Matthias, <i>then</i> maybe I'll only twist your arm off and shove it up your ass. Shove it up so far you'll be able to blow a guy <i>and</i> give him a hand job at the same time. You got that, you dumb-ass <i>shit?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, yeah, it's all cool!" You get to your feet, and now you keep your distance from him.<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb have chosen the usual portable as your trap: you've had good luck catching people there, even if you've had only bad luck with them afterward. With exaggerated caution--extreme tiptoeing and shushing--you push open the door and gesture Chen inside. "So where'd you put the stuff that you can't get to it?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Up there." You point to a ventilation duct in the wall just under the ceiling, hanging partially off its one remaining screw: It took you and Caleb nearly ten minutes to spot the duct as a possible "hiding place," and another five minutes to get it loose.<br/>
<br/>
Chen's eyes narrow as he turns on you. "No fucking way you got it in there. It's too small."<br/>
<br/>
"So you'd think," you giggle. "But I did, I shit you not!"<br/>
<br/>
"So why can't you get it back out? Is it stuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess, kind of. And it's way deep inside."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine." He pulls the old teacher's desk over so he can stand on it. "What are you doing," he asks at the sound of you pulling a drawer open.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, just looking for shit, in case someone left something."<br/>
<br/>
Someone did: a blank mask with a blank brain band attached to its inner surface. You make loud rummaging noises with one hand as you silently pull the mask out with the other. You whisk it under your shirt, lest Chen catch a glimpse of it.<br/>
<br/>
But he's too busy with the duct. He rips the ventilator cover away and sticks a hand in. He discovers--as you did--that it's very shallow. "The fuck? There's nothing--"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you have feel around, go up," you tell him helpfully as you climb onto the desk behind him. "Here, lemme show you." You thrust an arm over his shoulder--<br/>
<br/>
--and around his head to press the mask into his face. Chen jerks back, then sags against you. The sudden onslaught of his full weight almost knocks you off the desk, but you catch him and yourself just in time, and sag with him onto the desk. You disentangle your limbs from his, and leap for the door. "Caleb!" you call, and your friend dashes in from the portable opposite.<br/>
<br/>
Chen isn't a big guy--he's about your height--but he's strong without being bulky or sculpted. Getting him undressed is a bit of a production, for he's wearing a dark-green, heavy canvas jacket over his red t-shirt; dark denim trousers; and combat-style boots. You whisk away the gray ski cap he's got pulled low over his forehead and are about to tackle the jacket when Caleb waves you off. "Just get out of Dane's things," he hisses.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you need my help?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but first things first. I won't let you sleep."<br/>
<br/>
So you quickly strip yourself of Dane's loose gear, lay in the filthy floor, and grab your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You come out of your swoon slapping hard at Caleb: to rouse you, he's covered your mouth and pinched your nose shut. Effective, but it leaves your brain feeling like it's been stuffed with dry leaves and set on fire. You ache all over as you rush over to help get Chen undressed.<br/>
<br/>
It turns out you didn't have to rush too hard. The mask is still copying Chen by the time you've got him completely disrobed and into Dane's clothes. He never wakes or stirs, even when you accidentally drop his head hard onto the desk.<br/>
<br/>
Once you've got Chen changed, you get yourself into his clothes. There's a rough, grimy feel to them. They don't seem to be dirty--not overly much--and there's no smell off them. But they're not the kind of clothes you'd wear, and they're associated with someone you are very much not like. You feel like you're playing a very unconvincing game of "dress up" as you tighten the laces on the boots and wrap yourself in the jacket; you feel lost in them. You pull the ski cap down around your ears, tuck your hair into it, and turn to Caleb. "How do I look?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like a sad little douchebag wannabe. Go wait in his car, I'll be along with his mask when it's done."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want me here to help?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna be seen with you while you're looking like that. I'm not sure I wanna be seen with you after you've got Chen's mask on, either," he adds in a grumble.<br/>
<br/>
Chen drives a battered red Jeep with a fabric top and doors. The interior of the cab isn't much different from the interior of your old truck, with the floorboards on the passenger side being buried in papers and old fast-food sacks. You may be dressed like Chen, but you don't look like him yet, and it would never do if someone spotted you sitting behind his wheel. It wouldn't do for them to spot you dressed like this out in the open, either. You try compromising by sitting in the passenger side, but even that leaves you feeling exposed, and you slouch down as far as you can, then lay on your side so that you'll be entirely invisible to casual passers-by.<br/>
<br/>
The time passes uncomfortably, but it's only a few minutes before there's a scratching at the fabric of the door behind you, and you sit up as Caleb opens it. His look of surprise changes to a sneer of exasperation. "And <i>you're</i> going to take over for Chen," he snorts. "I'll believe it when I see it." He hands you a mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you don't want to piss me off, not if I'm going to be wearing this mask," you retort. You turn it over to look at its inner surface. Your jaw drops a little.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, check it out, Chinese characters and shit," Caleb says. "Gimme the keys, I'll drive."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't I drive? It's gonna be--"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna be far away when Chen wakes up," Caleb says. "Gimme. We'll finish up back to the clubhouse."<br/>
<br/>
As he puts the car in motion, you open up the plastic tub filled with the sealing goop, and with a brush that shakes from the movement of the car you paint its interior. You move fast, and the Jeep is still on the street when you're able to wriggle down firmly into the seat and raise the mask with both hands to your face. The blue flames of the Chinese characters dance and burn and blur as they rise to meet you.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Coming of Gary Chen
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You rise from sleep like a shark breaching the ocean surface. Someone is shaking you, and the side of your fist--did you swing your arm?--connects with something hard but a little yielding. You sit up sharply and look around.<br/>
<br/>
You're parked next to the old elementary school; Caleb is rubbing the side of his jaw and giving you a wounded, reproachful look. "So, does this mean you're Gary Chen already?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ungh." You put your face in your hands, but it doesn't help. Your clothes crawl all over your body, like they're made of insects. You brush and pat and pull at them, trying to get comfortable. <br/>
<br/>
And then you're hit by that wave of nausea and dizziness, like you had yesterday when waking under Caleb's mind-strip. <br/>
<br/>
It wells up and spills over you, over the crown of your head, down your limbs, and into your lungs and guts. You bend double, first with sickness and then with fear, for his approach is awful. He's dark and shrouded and baleful as he creeps up behind and wraps himself around you like a full-body veil. Your mind unravels as he sinks into you; you reel as new threads entwine with old; you turn and fall and twist; but when the sense of motion ceases you find yourself standing again on firm and familiar ground, though with a new horizon about you. You open your eyes, and are enveloped by an overpowering sense of something like déjà vu—a sense that you're looking at and remembering things twice over. Briefly you are of two minds about where you are and what you've been doing, but with only a tiny spasm of willpower you bring them into alignment. You suck in a deep breath, and exhale. "Yeah I'm here. Let's have a look at our shit," you say, and get out of the car. <br/>
<br/>
You're sharply aware of Caleb's movements as he follows you to the basement door, though you only watch him from the corner of your eye. <i>Fucking stupid to let them make that play back in the portable,</i> you can't help feeling; but you also can't help feeling glee at having bested Chen. You kick the ground impatiently as Caleb fumbles the key into the lock. "Snap it up there, Johansson," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be an asshole, Will," he replies. His tone is quieter than the one he usually takes with you, you notice.<br/>
<br/>
"Hard for me not to be under the circumstances, you know?" <br/>
<br/>
"Don't overdo it. You're just playacting, and you're with me."<br/>
<br/>
The dizziness hasn't completely faded; maybe that's why you feel not quite in control of yourself. "If this is playacting, I'm doing a pretty good job convincing myself," you retort, and push past your friend once he's got the door open.<br/>
<br/>
You pause halfway down the interior steps, and blink away a distressing portrait of home life. <i>Mnh, that's not gonna be fun.</i> But Chen's dealt with it before, and you're sure you can too. <br/>
<br/>
Because as you test the wooden stairs under your boots, everything firms and tightens up. <i>This feels natural,</i> you think to yourself. <i>This feels right.</i> "Is the shit still in that desk?" you ask. "Get it out while I make sure I got my gear on right." Caleb makes a face, but you ignore it to shove your way to the back where the full-length mirror is.<br/>
<br/>
And there he is; or, there <i>you</i> are: Chen Guangli, or "Gary Chen," as the Americanization has it. Grandfather didn't come to the United States from China, he came via Indonesia, but there's still the pressure to conform to the old ways, even in these days of the old father's physical and mental decrepitude. Not that the form staring back at you has anything like an "old ways" stamp to it. You shift about inside the jacket, resettling it; you adjust the belt and pants; and <i>who the fuck put your boots on </i>that<i> way?</i> You undo them and start over again, getting your cuffs just inside the tops before lacing them up again. And the cap: You pull it off, sending straight dark hair falling over your brows and into your face, over your ears and down the back of your neck. You slide the cap back on, pushing your bangs inside it as you pull it down to your eyebrows; but you tug the hair on the sides of your head and the back out further, so that it frames a face that narrows from wide-set eyes and high cheek bones down to a tapering chin.<br/>
<br/>
One more pass over all the clothing gets it all in place and comfortable. You hike your shoulders, and realize you're tense all over. But you don't relax.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you <i>done</i> yet over there, Confucius?" Caleb wearily calls.<br/>
<br/>
Something taut and heavy, like a piano wire, snaps inside your head. "Confucius" is almost as bad as "fortune cookie" or "fried lice." Inside of four steps you're in Caleb's face and inside his defenses before he can bat feebly back. You jam him back against the wall and punch a hole in his gut; and since you've got a fistful of his hair in the other hand he can't bend double to cover the sudden pain.<br/>
<br/>
You're about to deliver a second blow when you catch yourself; and though your muscles blaze with undischarged flame, you force yourself to release him, and your best friend sinks to the ground, groaning and puffing. "Okay, I'm sorry about that," you say, but your tone is clipped, for that wave of anger is still receding; and you're also mortified at having let yourself be carried away by it. "But don't call me shit like that, okay? Instinct kind of takes over, I guess." Caleb glares up at you from under his eyebrows. "But, uh, I guess that's one reason Chen is such an asshole. Because for as long as he can remember people have been calling him names like that, thinking it's funny."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I think he's just an asshole," Caleb retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, maybe," you admit. You flex and relax your fist thoughtfully. That sense of bifurcation is back, now that Chen has receded. You doubt he'd ever say it aloud, but you say it aloud for him as you retake control: "When you're always in a bad mood, it doesn't take much to set you off, you know? Anyway, yeah, I'm all set now." You look down at him, and can't help grinning. "Think I could pass as Chen now, you pudding-faced little shit?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb doesn't reply as he struggles to his feet. You step back, keeping out of range, tensing for a blow that you doubt will come, but you never know. Caleb gives you a sidelong glance as he returns to the desk where he's got the stuff set out.<br/>
<br/>
You <i>tch</i> over the busted lock, but carefully study the contents. It <i>looks</i> like everything Dwayne promised, and he's never cheated his customers yet. But of course you'll have to double-check it. And after that?<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do with it?" Caleb's question is your own.<br/>
<br/>
And you let Chen answer for you: "I got my customer list, I can clear ninety percent of it by Wednesday, rest by the end of the month."<br/>
<br/>
"Who buys that much?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mostly morons at the college who don't know they could get it faster and cheaper from dealers on campus. Rest at school, one eighth at a time. 'Cept for one <i>big</i> customer there. Fuck me, but you'd never guess who buys fifteen ounces of this shit a month."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gardinhire."<br/>
<br/>
It sounds like Caleb is trying not to swallow his tongue. "Gardinhire? <i>Martin</i> Gardinhire?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right, Mansfield's best butt-boy. I get five thousand a month from him."<br/>
<br/>
"Ho! Lee! Fuck!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. He's gotta be buying for his friends, you know, Mansfield and Kirk, prob'ly for some of the girls too." You laugh. "Fuck, I bet Kelsey's getting high with Hennepin every time they get together."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's brow crinkles. "What's this about Kelsey and Hennepin?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's right, we didn't know about that." You grin. "Hennepin is fucking Kelsey, and they think they're doing it in secret. Or Kelsey thinks it's--"<br/>
<br/>
"This is Blankenship we're talking about?" Caleb gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. They're doing it in motels, and Kelsey thinks it's all a big secret between her and Keith, and maybe Amanda, I'm sure Kelsey's telling fucking <i>Amanda</i> about every sweaty little orgasm." Every orifice in your body clenches at the thought of those two <i>cunts,</i> an opinion on which you and Chen would be at one even without this merger of minds. "But every fucking one at Westside knows Hennepin's slipping his sausage between her buns and leaving a squirt of mayo behind. Everyone except you and me and Tilley, of fucking course." You spit on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
You're dismayed by the wave of contemptuous bile that sweeps over you at the thought of Caleb Johansson, Keith Tilley, and Will Prescott. You're not the only three losers in the school--worms Chen and his gang can stomp without fear of trouble or retribution--but that's what you are.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway," you continue when Caleb maintains a thoughtful silence, "Gardinhire pays out five thousand a month, every month, for a portion of this shit, which is way more than he can be using himself."<br/>
<br/>
"How long has this been going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"With Gardinhire?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, with Chen, how long has he been—"<br/>
<br/>
"Since he was a fucking freshman. Dwayne, Dane's cousin? He was a senior that year, and he got Chen dealing it down in that class." The thought comes like a pang of conscience: <i>I need to find a dumb little shit down there now, someone fucking stupid like I was, to start dealing it down there, so I can keep this up for the next few years.</i> "Matthias acts as go-between, so there's nothing to directly connect Chen to Dwayne."<br/>
<br/>
"How much does he make off this trade? How much can <i>we</i> make?" Caleb adds with undisguised cupidity.<br/>
<br/>
You don't immediately reply. Given the situation, you could sell the whole stash, split the money with Caleb, and leave Chen's operation totally bankrupt. Crushing the asshole that way would be a sweet pleasure.<br/>
<br/>
But you also know the facts behind his operation. And if you're going to spend any time playing this part--and you might have to--it might be better to keep things running the way they're supposed to be running.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221212112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Operation
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Chen turns a profit of about forty-six hundred a month," you tell Caleb, and his jaw falls. "Yeah, but when Dwayne set him up," you continue, "he arranged for Chen to get the start-up money from a loan shark so he could start paying Dwayne for his supply. Can you believe that? Chen was fifteen and in hock to a fucking loan shark." You shake your head. "So four thousand of what he makes goes to paying off the debt. He's worked fucking hard to keep ahead of what he owes, but he's still--" You trail off. "And he doesn't keep what's left for himself, either. His grandfather lives with the family, and everything that's left goes to helping with the medical bills."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb staggers back a step. "His <i>parents</i> are okay with their kid dealing drugs?"<br/>
<br/>
Your hand shoots toward his throat, but you pull it back with a jerk. "They don't <i>know</i> that's where it comes from, okay? They think it comes from his job as a fucking dishwasher over at the country club, same place Gardinhire works as a waiter."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know that."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. Anyway, Chen tells his parents that the extra cash he's bringing in is part of his share of wait-staff tips. He throws it into the family account along with all of his real salary, gets a tiny-ass allowance from his dad because it's all they can afford to give him."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Caleb drawls after a pause. "So Chen's this sweet little Chinaboy who does all this to help out his pawpaw?"<br/>
<br/>
Maybe in speaking all these facts aloud you have somehow claimed them as your own, and come to identify with them. But now you don't stop yourself. You advance on Caleb, and with a hard knuckle to his breastbone push him back into the same corner where you'd slugged him before. "We can skim <i>maybe</i> a couple of hundred bucks from him," you hiss in a hard voice. "Enough to pay back your mom and maybe for some of the supplies we'll need for more spells in the book. But that's <i>all.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Gimme a break, Will. With that kind of-- <i>Gauuggghhhh!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You punch him in the exact same spot as before—it should still be real tender—and as before you keep him on his feet by grabbing the hair at the top of his head. "Don't. Fuck with me. Johansson," you hiss in his ear. "I'm the one who made the fucking call to get inside Chen, and I'm the one who's got to take fucking responsibility for him until we figure out a way to sort things out. You said you couldn't picture me playing Chen. Well, I can, and I am, and this is me telling you to <i>not</i>--" You gut punch him again. "Get in my way, and don't second-guess me."<br/>
<br/>
Now you release him, and again he slides to the floor. "I gotta start getting this shit out to the people who want it," you tell him, ignoring his distress. "If I don't talk to you at school tomorrow, meet me here at four. I'll give you something so you can pay your mom back, and we'll talk about what comes next. Oh, and speaking of which--" You scoop up the grimoire. "I'll take the book and give it a look-through, see how much we need to skim to unlock the next spell."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do about Matthias? I mean, the real Chen?" Caleb asks weakly, pausing every few words to gulp down some air.<br/>
<br/>
"Ignore him. You can ignore him too, since he doesn't have any idea you're mixed up in this."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You drive back to the Westside, and are glad to note that Dane's car is gone. You try imagining what Chen will be doing--you've got his brain inside you--but the magical-sci-fi idea that someone might force a body-swap on him is so outrageous that you can't find any instincts that could even grapple with it. He might try going back to his real house; he might try looking for some of his friends. But he couldn't convince anyone of who he is, right? They'd just think he was wacky Dane being extra wacky. They might even think the drugs had finally blown Matthias's mind all to hell.<br/>
<br/>
You seek out one of the back doors of the school--the one Chen knows how to jimmy open--and glide through the darkened halls to his locker. <i>So much easier this way,</i> you think as you quickly twirl the combination lock open. <i>No guesswork about where my shit is, or what to do with it, or where to go.</i> You pull out a backpack and take it into a nearby bathroom; from it you draw a set of electronic scales and some plastic baggies, and set them next to the briefcase with this month's bales.<br/>
<br/>
You start by weighing the latter: Yes, Dwayne shipped what he was supposed to, down to the tenth of a gram. Next you weigh out and bag Gardinhire's portion: fifteen ounces. Then for the university: Chen had already budgeted amounts for Harper and Keating and Whitmore and Ragland, based on a rolling average of their last six monthly purchases and incorporating an adjustment based on a trend-line. (Math class is far from wasted on him.) So you just have to measure out four baggies for them, totaling about thirty-six ounces.  The remainder you leave as is for now: that's where the hard work will be, and you've got people who can help you out. You take out your phone.<br/>
<br/>
First person you call is Dwayne. "You talk to your cousin today?" you ask. The reply is negative. "Whatever. Point is I did and I got his shit straightened out. Got my shit, too. He says he <i>forgot</i> about the new place where he put the, uh, baking powder. He showed it to me and I got a new mix going. It's all good."<br/>
<br/>
"How hard did you hit him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, man. He can walk. He was acting kind of goofy when I left him, though, so maybe his brain isn't working as good as it should be. But who knows with him. Oh, and he busted the case, so you're gonna have to get a new one. I think he was trying to get into it, that's probably why he was pretending like he lost it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I can get a new one, but the cost is coming out of your account."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck? It's your cousin who--"<br/>
<br/>
"If it happened at the school, it's your responsibility."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't <i>know</i> where he busted it, chances are he busted it at his place, and then it's <i>your</i> responsibility."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, I'll split the cost with you."<br/>
<br/>
Every muscle in your body tightens. "You'll pick up the whole bill, fuckface! He's your cousin, and it was your fucking brilliant idea that he play the mule. Don't fuck with me today, Macauly," you interrupt him. "After this week's fuck up-- Listen, when I sell this shit I'll have twenty thousand large. If I want, I can pay off Mathis and be out of this shit for good, and then how are you gonna make yer lunch money in Westside? You'd have to set up a new guy, and how are you gonna do that from where you're sitting? So you pay for a new motherfucking box yourself, motherfucker, if you don't want it costing you fifteen big ones a month."<br/>
<br/>
"The things are only about fifty bucks," he grumbles. "Why are you being such a hardass about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's the fucking principle, that's what it is. I'll give you back this busted one, but you replace it on your own dime."<br/>
<br/>
He gets the message and stops haggling. You're breathless, nauseated, and exhilarated when you hang up, for you can't believe that, even with Chen's native psychology to guide and support you, you managed to browbeat Dwayne Macauly into paying for the damaged briefcase.<br/>
<br/>
So you're in a fine mood when you call Tanner Evans next. "I'm heading over to your place. Your mom gone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but what's the--"<br/>
<br/>
"I got homework we need to work on."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of homework," the idiot asks.<br/>
<br/>
"What's nine cut seventy-two ways, you fucking pustule? That's the kind of homework. Clear a space on your bed and put some spray around, last time I was there it smelled like your jerk-off sock." You hang up.<br/>
<br/>
You pack everything away, and though you'd like to swagger out of the building, you keep it cautious, and skulk through the halls and back out that the door you came in by.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Tanner Evans's head is square and flat on top and puts you in mind of a shoebox. He has dull, heavy-lidded eyes under beetle brows, and splotchy brown freckles that look like he got spattered with paint and couldn't get the stains off. He smells funny, too. You instinctively hate the sight of him, because he's one of the assholes who hangs around with Kirkham and Chen, and tries to act like he's as tough as them by being tough on you and your friends.<br/>
<br/>
So you're suppressing a smile when he lets you in: His lips twitch nervously between pale cheeks, and he can't look you in the eye. "I thought you said this month was off," he says as he leads you into the back.<br/>
<br/>
"I said there was a problem. It got sorted out. Here we are, and we got three days to make up. You got everything set up?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Set up</i> means that he's got his own set of scales out, along with the packages of tiny self-sealing bags suitable for holding and passing eighths of hay. You spread out on the floor and get quickly to work. It's both tedious and exacting, but you don't talk or put on any music, because you want to be able to hear if someone returns.<br/>
<br/>
You're almost done and are packing the seventy-two cuts into twelve bigger baggies when Evans speaks. He swallows first, though. "Uh, I think I wanna skip this month."</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212121121
author_id: seuzz
title: Where the Money Comes From, and Where It Goes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I wanna skip this month," says Tanner Evans. <br/>
<br/>
He means, of course, that he doesn't want to purchase his usual allotment. Still, though his meaning is plain, you can hardly believe your ears. "The fuck do you mean by that?"<br/>
<br/>
He licks his lips. "I mean, you said on Friday that the month was blown--"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say the month was blown, I said there was a problem."<br/>
<br/>
"You made it sound like--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're sounding like a pussy, Evans. The <i>fuck</i> do you mean that you wanna <i>skip</i> this month?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't pay you," he says. "I haven't— When I heard from you, I spent the money on some other things."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck did you—? Every month, you give me twenty-four dimes for one of these." You brandish one of the large baggies, which contains six of the smaller ones. "That's the fucking deal."<br/>
<br/>
"I can still hold it for you, if you need it held--"<br/>
<br/>
With your left hand--your awkward hand--you clip him across the nose. "You're fucking with me? Seriously, are you fucking with me? You'll hold six eighths without giving me any fucking security?"<br/>
<br/>
A little stream of red trickles onto his upper lip, and he puts his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose.<br/>
<br/>
"You won't lose out anything, Chen, I swear! I'll hold it and I'll sell some, I sold all of 'em last month! You can tap me for the money, and what's left at the end of— Jesus, it's not like I can bug out on you! End of the month, you'll know where to find me, you'll get back everything I owe you!"<br/>
<br/>
He shivers and shrivels under your stare. "Three-sixty," you finally say. "End of the month you give me thirty-six dimes <i>and</i> whatever you haven't sold. You sell all of them, you give me thirty-six instead of twenty-four. You sell none of them, you give me thirty-six <i>and</i> the eighths you were too fucking stupid to deal."<br/>
<br/>
"What if I can't get thirty-six for them? I mean, even if I sell all six, that's, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Sixty an eighth. Christ! You either get the money from someone else, or you raise the price of what you're selling. I wanna see if I can raise the price point anyway, and it looks like you just volunteered to test the market. Am I clear?"<br/>
<br/>
He nods and winces as another trickle runs out his nose.<br/>
<br/>
"Good." You gather up all your stuff.<br/>
<br/>
Only after you've got it packed, and haven't left a baggie for him, does he point out that you've not given him a supply. "I'll give it to you Wednesday," you tell him. "You can start late, too."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You make two more stops, dropping additional baggies onto Joe Thomason and George Mendoza, and since they're not sad little shits like Evans, they give you twenty-four dimes for each. Chen only keeps one baggie for himself handy at school at any one time—an amount just under the limit that would put him in lock up if he got busted—but by dropping baggies on these cronies and insisting they carry them to school, he can tap a larger supply if the day's demand exceeds the six eighths he's brought for the day. <i>And</i> he can spread his net wider than if he were handling it alone.<br/>
<br/>
But you've got one last place to go before you can go home. David Kirkham smiles—a sneering, lopsided thing—as you hand him a baggie; and since he's Kirkham, you don't ask for any money, and you don't expect to ever get any, either. "Nice," he says softly, as he says everything softly. "I knew you weren't the cockup you were claiming to be."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, your boy Evans has a cock up <i>his</i> ass, or something," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Whose? Yours?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't fuck that sick-making little douche if it got me a ticket inside a cheerleader. He says he's not taking a set this month."<br/>
<br/>
"So why are you telling me? You can sit on him."<br/>
<br/>
"He's your little cunt. Him and Mendoza and— Fuck, I'd drown 'em in a ditch as soon as look at 'em, but they're the ones supporting your end of things. You wanna know the sad fucking truth? At least a third of what I sell each month goes through them. And if they get it in their heads that this is all, like, <i>voluntary,</i> what am I gonna be left with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I'll talk to him," Kirkham sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"You do more than talk to him, fucker. I wanna see blood on his face when he begs me to give him some bash to deal. I'm giving you sixth eighths a month—sixth eighths without overhead, you faggot, that you can smoke or you can sell—and me, I'm only netting six hundred a month even with those three motherfuckers helping out. We're basically partners, you and me, and I'm doing the work while you're collecting a third of the profits."<br/>
<br/>
"I said I'll talk to him."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. And feed him one of his own balls if he gives you any bullshit stories about how he <i>is</i> on tap for the month. He's just dumb enough to think he can get away with a fucking lie like that."<br/>
<br/>
A faint smirk crosses Kirkham's face, and you guess that he guesses you already straightened Evans out. But he nods all the same, for he understands that bullshit like Evans tried to pull can't be tolerated. Not if it endangers his own supply.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Did you tell Kirkham that you're only making six hundred dollars a month dealing marijuana? Well, that's all he knows about, that's approximately the profit on what you deal yourself and what you hustle through the others. He has no idea that you sell even more than that to Gardinhire in one giant drop at the first of each month, and he has <i>no fucking clue</i> that you sell more at the university than you do at Westside. Six hundred a month? You told Caleb the truth: It's forty-six hundred a month and change.<br/>
<br/>
Too bad four thousand of that sum goes toward clawing back the debt to Karol Mathis, and the remaining goes into the family bank account. When you get home, you get a close up look at what it goes to paying for.<br/>
<br/>
The Chens live in a house that would need at least another two hundred square feet to even be considered "dinky." There are two small bedrooms in the back, but one of them has been done up as a very small sitting room, whose fold-out couch Gary gets to sleep in each night. That's because the real living room has been turned into a sick room for his grandfather. You get an eyeful of it when you come in the front door.<br/>
<br/>
The room is dominated by a king-size adjustable bed that's raised its withered occupant into a half-sitting position. He's on a respirator, and a couple of monitors are attached to him. A portable toilet, still faintly stinking from its last use, is on one side of the bed. A chair is on the other. At the moment, Gary's mother is sitting there, but during the day it's usually occupied by a nurse. Grandfather really should be in a nursing home or even a hospital, but Gary's father won't stand for it. And so, despite his holding a middle-manager position at a bank, his family is reduced to these circumstances so that they can honor the old man by taking care of him here.<br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Chen looks tired, but her eyes are sharp as you come in the door. "Are you finally home? Where's your homework?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm on my way to do it now."<br/>
<br/>
"Only now? What have you been doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got started on it, I only need to finish it." She turns her head so you can kiss her on the cheek. "I was doing some of the rest with friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Let me see."<br/>
<br/>
You don't hesitate to open the backpack, for you hid the busted metal briefcase in the back seat of the Jeep, and the stash and cash are in the small strongbox that you and Macauly soldered to the underside of the chassis last year. You take out a notebook and open it to some math that Gary did yesterday as insurance against just this kind of demand.<br/>
<br/>
She squints at it. "Why are you working with friends on this? Do you need help? Don't you understand it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I totally understand it, but I have to help <i>them</i> with their math so they'll help me with English."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's your English homework?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have any this weekend."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you have to finish?"<br/>
<br/>
"A little Physics and some Marketing." You suspect you could teach Mr. Peters  more about marketing than he could teach you.<br/>
<br/>
"You practice your viola yet?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance at the old man. "Isn't it too late?"<br/>
<br/>
"As soon as you get home tomorrow, then"<br/>
<br/>
"I have work and other homework after school."<br/>
<br/>
"Two hours Tuesday."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, mother."<br/>
<br/>
"And a boy stopped by, looking for you," she says as you turn toward the bedroom. "Was he one of the ones you were studying with?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart skips. "I don't know. What was his name?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dane Matthias." Her eyes narrow. "He smelled funny."<br/>
<br/>
"No, he wasn't one of the guys tonight. What did he want?"<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't say. He wanted to talk to you." Her tone turns aggressive. "I didn't let him stay."<br/>
<br/>
You bet she didn't, and you wonder if Gary—under Dane's mask—was shocked, relieved, or heartbroken when she turned him away.<br/>
<br/>
Now, should you call him? Go to his place? Or wait to see him tomorrow, which you undoubtedly will?</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121211212
author_id: seuzz
title: The First Day of Another Life
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your "mother" won't like seeing you go out again, not with Physics and Marketing homework hanging over your head, and she especially won't want you going off to see a guy whose clothes smelled like burnt marijuana. Besides, Chen could try calling his old cell if he really wanted to find you.<br/>
<br/>
As you settle into the living room with a padded writing table in your lap, you wonder why he hasn't tried calling. <i>Probably because he doesn't know there's a fake "Gary Chen" walking around,</i> you decide. Asking for himself when he stopped by was probably only an excuse so he could test his parents' reaction to his new look.<br/>
<br/>
The homework is boring, but Gary's got some pretty good powers of concentration when he needs them. You find yourself distracted a couple of times as you notice his neat handwriting flowing out the pencil you're guiding. <i>I'm Gary Chen, and I'm doing "my" homework,</i> you think to yourself. When you were dealing with Evans and Kirkham and the others you were too intent, and too lost in the guiding flow of Chen's intelligence, to feel self-conscious. Now, though, you've more opportunity to touch and rub the sense of change in your position and circumstances. You separate more fully from him, in a way that leaves you feeling slightly disoriented.<br/>
<br/>
You work until nearly one in the morning--for you've also the grimoire to study--then pull out the bed and quickly fall asleep. The alarm is set for six-thirty, for you've morning medical chores to help with.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You sleep in a pair of track pants, and that's what you're wearing the next morning as you help your mother move the old man to the toilet, and wipe him down afterward. If Gary weren't so inured to it, you'd probably have thrown up. Luckily, the old man is in a docile mood, and only mumbles a handful of feeble curses in Chinese instead of throwing his arms about, as he often does. And as you handled the tissue paper needs, you're immediately excused thereafter to shower and clean up. Then comes a quick breakfast with the whole family in the sickroom. Mr. Chen asks his own perfunctory questions about school work, and you give your own perfunctory answers.<br/>
<br/>
School ought to be a relief from the home life, but it isn't. Not usually.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As you glide across the front quad of the school, alert for trouble from any quarter, you've cause again to marvel at how much easier it is to play someone's part when you've got that someone with his chin on your shoulder and hands over yours (as it were), guiding you along. Take what you're doing now, for instance. You enter the library by the side door, and after making a cursory, pretend search on the catalog terminal, pull down a book from a top shelf in a back corner: <i>Aspects of Ancient Persian Life,</i> a book that Chen had carefully researched not for its content but for its lack of popularity. Not once, he found, had it been checked out in eight years; probably he's the only one who has ever opened it. You open it now and furtively slip a baggie holding sixth eighths into its back pages. You return it to its shelf, and peruse a few more titles, just to make things look proper; then you head out behind the music wing for a quick, lonely smoke while plotting out the day's transactions. You think you can get most of today's supply placed, since it's the start of a new round, and some of your best customers have been without for a few days.<br/>
<br/>
Take the prospects in first period English, for instance. Adrian Semple and Keith Hennepin are regulars; if they've enough on them today, you could drop all six on them, maybe. There's also Justin Roth. He has his own supplier someplace--maybe he knows and gets his shit from Dwayne direct--because he swallows shit you don't dare traffic in. But he sometimes picks stuff up from your network.<br/>
<br/>
There's also the sports teams. Patterson tries to keep the basketball team clean, but Luke Bennett, who represents the squad in first, dresses like a thug and would probably take some. A better gamble is the football team, though they get their supply from you know not where. Better not try dropping any on their representatives in first period, though: Cameron Huber or Marcus Johnson are pretty square.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's Molly Shaw, who's sulking in the back as you enter the room. She's a talker, so you don't like that she knows she can buy from you; so with her you pretend you only use the stuff but can be persuaded reluctantly to part with an eighth at cost. She's the very definition of "casual user," but she's looking stressed (apparently she's had another baby scare), so she might be looking for relief. <i>Mm.</i> If you play it right, make her feel good while sharing the experience with her, maybe you can give her grounds for another scare?<br/>
<br/>
But if you were looking for that kind of play and that kind of playdate, you'd set it up with a girl who's not in the class, but who, toward the end of class, walks past the window every day, to the delight of every guy in the room: Andrea Varnsworth. She's the captain of the swim team, and she has been smoothed and sculpted by the water into a form that begs for caressing by something other than the waves. She's tall, with large, firm breasts that she always keeps covered in school; a tummy curved just the right shape for clasping with two hands; wide hips; and strong, tapering legs. Summer has been good to her, so that she has an evenly bronzed tone, and her tawny hair has streaks of light gold in it. The killer, though, is her face, which is a little pinched and a little wolfish, maybe, but which she keeps raised and turned from all comers. If her body is the prize, her expression--and the attitude of ethereal disdain it wears--is the challenge to be overcome.<br/>
<br/>
Chen has never dared talk to her, but you've got guts he hasn't--didn't you go on a couple of dates with Eva Garner under another guy's face?--and between you and Chen you know at least how to approach her, even though the chances of making any kind of a score are so small you'd need to start dozens of places to the right of the decimal to measure them.<br/>
<br/>
Today, as always, heads swivel when she appears outside, walking slowly down the sidewalk that runs between C and E wing. You stare with watering eyes, forgetting the teacher droning on at the front of the room, and hunch over in your desk, nursing the erection. After she's gone you catch Fred Hildown staring at you. "Fuck are you lookin' at?" you hiss at him, and he looks away. <i>No point trying to talk the track star into sucking some smoke into his lungs.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
English is boring: If you wanted to know how the Trojan War turned out, you could rent <i>300.</i> (They both got Greeks in them, right? Must be the same story.) When the bell rings, you let the evergreens Semple and Hennepin go in one direction while you trail Roth out. "Yo, didn't you got a more fun place to be last period," you murmur at the back of his neck. "You run outta fun times?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sometimes you gotta go to class," he rumbles in reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Not you, man, you're too cool to school, right? If you're running a little short on fun I got some I can lend you."<br/>
<br/>
"Lend?" he asks skeptically as the crowds jostle you. He doesn't have to ask what you're inviting him to borrow.<br/>
<br/>
"You got any dimes on you?" you ask, drawing up close so you can speak directly into the side of his head. "No biggie if you don't, I know you're good for it. Pay in installments. Or get your friend Small to cover for you. Get some for him, too."<br/>
<br/>
It's not Chen's style to let people pay later for stuff now—except, of course, with the first few purchases—but Roth has never come to Chen, and always let Chen come to him; a gentle manner is about the only way to get him to pay. "Tomorrow, maybe," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Collect now, pay tomorrow," you say. "Bring me fifteen, twenty dimes tomorrow, the balance over the rest of the week. Today I'll give you--" You scratch your cheek with two fingers.<br/>
<br/>
Roth hesitates, then nods. "When?"<br/>
<br/>
"Meet me back of A-wing fourth period, we'll share some baloney." <br/>
<br/>
Someone bumps you in the shoulder, and you turn with a snarl, but it's only a sophomore. When you turn back around, Roth has moved on. You don't pursue him, though, for Gordon Black is looming up ahead. You pause.<br/>
<br/>
That's definitely not the Gordon Black that you or Chen or anyone else is used to seeing. Usually he bulldozes through the halls with a lowered head and a glower. Today he's bulldozing through, but more carelessly than forcefully, as though he doesn't realize he's knocking people around. His countenance is bright and open, and his eyes are shining with a kind of innocent wonder. <i>Hasn't Matthias gotten used to his new position yet?</i> you wonder with some irritation. <i>It can't be such a novelty anymore, being so tall and powerfully built.</i><br/>
<br/>
You press against the side of the hall as he passes. You don't need to dodge him particularly, for Matthias wouldn't be stopping to talk to Chen anyway: Dane had no idea who was picking up and returning that briefcase every month. But you feel very shy around your victims. <br/>
<br/>
Even the indirect victims. Jason Lynch, looking a lot more surly than his friend, trails in Black's wake, and his face still bears the marks that "Will Prescott," to everyone's astonishment, put on it.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221212112121
author_id: seuzz
title: People Who Won't Lay Down and Take It
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The next two periods are taken up with soccer practice: Westside is so sports mad that the school will let one hour of varsity practice a day count as elective credit. Soccer is the only area in Chen's life where he even vaguely resembles a team player, on account of his hyper-competitive instincts, which have won him a position as a center-forward. Such are his resentments, though, that he's not even happy with that, and casts envious eyes on the attacking midfielder position. But that spot belongs to fucking golden boy Marc Garner, who runs the team from it. Still, he is good at it, and Chen likes to win, so he swallows his resentment and even acts like an enforcer for Garner against the troublemakers.<br/>
<br/>
Number one trouble-maker would be the goal-keeper, Lester "The Molester" Pozniak. But you hope he does make trouble today, because "The Molester" has been Will Prescott's tormentor for years, and you'd love to dish him some back.<br/>
<br/>
You change into shorts and cleats and a dirty jersey, but keep the ski cap on—it's Chen's trademark—so you still look like a thug when you take to the field. There's banter on the jog outside, but none of it is directed at you, for no one on the team likes Chen, not even Mendoza, who's there's too as a defensive midfielder.<br/>
<br/>
As you jog, you spot the Molester and Brophy Maddox—his chief lickspittle, on the team and off it—lagging at the last curve around the field. "You need a fucking motorized scooter?" you shout back at them. "Pick it up, Maddox!" He continues to lag right alongside the chunky Molester, falling further behind. When the jog is over, you confront them before the rest of the team. "Fucking pussies, you're short a lap. We all passed you, but here you are."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit," snorts Pozniak, and his face, already the color of a beefsteak tomato, deepens in color. <br/>
<br/>
"Everyone lapped these two old ladies, right?" you demand of the rest of the team. No one supports you, but no one gainsays you either. <br/>
<br/>
But Garner—who doesn't like Pozniack any more than you do—takes the opening. "Another lap," he tells them. "If you finish before we're done with the sprints, you can skip those." Pozniak and Maddox expostulate, but only until you step into Pozniak's face.<br/>
<br/>
But the Molester tries getting some back later in the changing room. You're coming out of the shower as he's going in. "Ping pong dong," he murmurs. <br/>
<br/>
You whip around and shove him against the tiled wall. He flies back at you, and would have got you in a bear hug except you meet his pudgy but muscled stomach with a hard blow. He still succeeds in knocking you backward, and it might have gone badly but other guys, also naked and wet, pile in to separate you. This time Garner doesn't take your side, and promises both you and Pozniak extra laps on the morrow. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're in the math wing when you spot Roth coming out of Muniz's classroom. You don't rush to meet him, though, because someone much more interesting has followed him: Andrea Varnsworth. For a moment only you quail, then follow her.<br/>
<br/>
You can't tread too close behind her, though, on account of the crowds and on account of Steve Patterson, who also came out of Muniz's. You worry he'll waste the break time trying to chat her up, and your heart constricts with fury at the thought. But when Andrea stops and opens a locker he passes her by, though not without a long, lustful look back at her.<br/>
<br/>
You squeeze in by her shoulder. "Hey girl, you still letting Semple hang out at your place?" you ask in a husky voice.<br/>
<br/>
She gives you the briefest flicker of a glance. "He stops by," she says after turning back to her locker. "Sometimes."<br/>
<br/>
"If you wanna be hospitable next time he's in, you know--" You shrug, but it comes out more like a spasm. "Him and me, we buy from the same guy. If you wanna take some off me--" You shrug again. "Semple'd think it's pretty cool of you if you offered him some."<br/>
<br/>
Her lip curls slightly. "I know where he buys his stuff, so don't bullshit me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, okay. Offer still stands, though. You ever done some with him? It's good stuff, best stuff. Pretty fuckin' expensive, but if you ever wanna get together, you and me, I can comp you some out of my own stash." Chen is strictly a cigarettes and beer kind of guy, but you'd kill Semple for his bong if it could get you between Andrea's legs.<br/>
<br/>
Now she turns fully toward you, which would be nice if her stare wasn't so icy. "Are you looking to get paid or laid?"<br/>
<br/>
"Both if I can swing it," you blurt out. It crushes you to realize that self-sabotage is a vice you and Chen both share.<br/>
<br/>
"Then get yourself a dress, a makeover, and street corner."<br/>
<br/>
Your guts flash-steams into molten anger. <i>A ladyboy gag? This cunt is dismissing you with a ladyboy gag?</i> See, this is why people are awful, because even a beautiful creature like Andrea will casually throw racist insults at guys just because they're not the right fucking ethnicity.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a standing offer, girl," you softly reply, trying hard to keep the bitterness from your voice. But you can't resist adding, "Both of them."<br/>
<br/>
She makes no move, and you shove your way back into the milling crowds with a curse.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You haven't been worrying about the real Gary Chen and what he might be getting up to as Dane. At worst, you figure, he's lurking somewhere in the school, spying things out and trying to figure out what to do. Not until you duck into the library to retrieve two eighths for Justin do you realize he could cause you trouble even out of sight: The baggie is gone from its hiding place.<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to figure out it must have been Chen; your first thought, naturally, is that some asshole finally stumbled on the hiding place. But after a moment's thought, you realize it's much more likely that Chen stole it. You chew the inside of your cheek furiously, because what are you going to do about it? You can't confront "Dane" about it without tipping off that you know who he really is, and you'd much rather play it like you're Gary Chen, that you've always been Gary Chen, that the stoner who thinks he's Gary Chen is fucking crazy. So you decide to let things slide for the moment.<br/>
<br/>
"Gimme two eighths," you tell Mendoza when you find him down outside the cafeteria. <br/>
<br/>
"Show me some green," he says, for of course he had to buy his six from you.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll show you the color of your balls," you retort. "Two eighths, now. I'll return 'em tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the--"<br/>
<br/>
"I got someone waiting and I can't reach mine," you tell him. "If you find I'm no good for it, you can break my legs."<br/>
<br/>
Mendoza glances around furtively, then the two you press into a corner so he can slide you two small baggies.<br/>
<br/>
Justin isn't especially gracious when he takes them off you, and his thanks come from the back of his throat rather than his heart. "Pay you after school," he says. "After I talk to Perry."<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow's soon enough," you assure him as you squat in the grass next to him. He's got some papers in his backpack, and he quickly and expertly rolls out a joint as you talk. "You seen Matthias around?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's one of your regulars, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, no, dude gets his from-- Psht, I dunno, someone with so much weed they can burn it on him. I's just figurin', where Matthias is, that's where Semple and Hennepin'll be too."<br/>
<br/>
"They're back at the portables."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, fuck 'em." You pound your knee absent-mindedly. Matthias is still on your mind, and you're furiously chasing a thought that refuses to hold still and be identified. It's about more than the eighths that disappeared from the library. "So Small's settin' you up for these?" you say. "The other one for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't think you can get Perry as a customer," Roth says, and accepts the lighter when you proffer it to him. "He's not into it enough to support you."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't need support, this is just, you know, videogame money."<br/>
<br/>
"Must be a nice videogame collection you got, then."<br/>
<br/>
You squint at him. Roth is a mop-headed drug addict on a fast slide to dropping out, but no one thinks he's stupid. And he's quiet, which in your experience means an asshole is alert. "Eh," you shrug. "There's not much profit margin in these things."<br/>
<br/>
Justin huffs and sighs. "That's why you make it up in volume."<br/>
<br/>
You don't know how to reply to that. Then you can't reply, for you've scooped up your bag and are sprinting hard toward the parking lot. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Volume. Your month's supply. In the strongbox under the Jeep. Which the real Chen knows about, same as he knew about the book in the library.</i> He won't have a key to it, but that wouldn't stop him from trying to open it.<br/>
<br/>
And sure enough, when you come to a panting stop you find sticking out from under the Jeep a pair of legs clad in pajama bottoms and bedroom slippers. You drop next to them and punch him in the groin. There's a shout and a clang, as of a head hitting something hard, but you punch again, and again, and you scream curses at him as he tries to flip over to protect his vitals. Once he's curled in a fetal position, you seize him by the ankles and drag him out. <br/>
<br/>
There's a bloody gash across the side of his forehead, and from under his copper-red bangs Dane Matthias glares up at you. You sit on him, knee on his chest, fist on his throat. "The fuck are you doing, Matthias," you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"Getting my shit back," he says. "Give it, or I'll call the cops on your ass."</span></div></div>


