# chapters

path: 111134512
author_id: seuzz
title: Show the book to Yumi
chapter_content:
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path: 11113452
author_id: seuzz
title: A Charity Drive to Drive You Mad
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Money?</i> The word certainly catches your ear. "How much?" you ask Naomi.<br/>
<br/>
She grimaces and gives her friend Kennedy a sidelong glance. Kennedy shoots her friend a similarly veiled look before stammering, "We'll talk about it later. Right now we need to go start picking up the other stuff."<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself make a face, but at least you've established that you'll get <i>some</i> compensation. "So where's the first place we're going?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll text you the addresses," Naomi says as she swings around toward her car. "You can plug it into your GPS or whatever, or follow us."<br/>
<br/>
You glance at Yumi, but she only gives you a look like, <i>You got yourself into it, Will, you can get yourself out.</i> "I'll talk to you later," she says as she turns back toward her own car. "Let's take a raincheck or something about that Starbucks run."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend almost three hours following Naomi around town, even though you don't have that many places to go. But she drives her bronze-colored Nissan Altima like it's a sick walrus that has to be nurtured gently down the road, hitting almost every light red (and several she should have hit green but gets red anyway) and wallowing around corners like a bus that's running on fumes. Then, when you do get to a house, she and Kennedy have to spend fifteen or twenty minutes gossiping cheerfully with their friends or the parents of their friends while <i>you</i> get to carry out the boxes, and they ignore you when you're done and are glowering nearby and silently urging them to get a move on. By six o'clock, when you text your mom to say you will be late for dinner because you're helping out with a charity drive, you are almost ready to abandon them and take the loot of five houses back to your place.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, though, Naomi texts you <i>Last stop to drop stuff off!</i>, and leads you back toward Acheson at a waddling pace.<br/>
<br/>
She leads you to a nice, multi-level house not far from the river, its lawn shaded by some old trees. Naomi and Kennedy sit in the car even as you bound out. But you don't feel like talking to them, so you lean against your truck to see what will happen next.<br/>
<br/>
What happens is that the garage door goes up and a tall, good-looking kid with a neatly combed thatch of brown hair comes sauntering out. He's dressed much as you—dark t-shirt under a long-sleeve button-up shirt, and slacks—but his stuff looks ironed. He also has a much more confident gait, and the phrase "AP twat" comes to your mind. He jerks his chin at you but steers toward the girls' car as they finally start getting out. "So what's this 'big surprise' you got?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's back here," Kennedy says as she leads him to your truck. She hardly glances at you, and the guy only gives you a quick look of puzzlement. "We stopped by Angelique's and Rhea's and—" She proudly rattles off a whole list of names as she lowers the gate of your truck and gestures at the boxes. The guy whistles at them.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you think of that, Kian?" Naomi smugly challenges him. "Do we win the bet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty good haul," Kian says. (And what kind of name is that? you wonder.) "Wanna help me carry it in?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." Naomi crooks a finger at you. And it doesn't escape your notice that neither she nor Kennedy lift a box, but instead precede you and Kian as you and he each pull out a box of clothes.<br/>
<br/>
Your destination is a basement, reached via a trapdoor and a wide and shallow set of stairs in the garage floor. Calling it a "basement," though, would give it the wrong impression. Though it is underground, it's been converted into an airy rec room, very wide and long, with a pair of coaches in the corner facing a small flat-screen TV, and a dorm refrigerator. But most of the space is taken up with cabinets and work tables. The latter groan beneath cardboard boxes in various states of unpacking. A mass of shirts and jeans and trousers have already been grouped and folded, and a countertop along the wall is stacked deep with canned goods and packaged foods.<br/>
<br/>
There's a half dozen school kids or more at work down there, sorting items and bundling them up. Two you recognize from your film class, but neither they nor hardly anyone else looks at you as you set your box down and turn back toward the stairs. Naomi and Kennedy, you notice, immediately fall into a bright, gossipy conversation with a slim girl with long, kinky, brunette hair. But Kian gets two guys to help carry the rest of the things down. On your way out, he finally gets around to nudging you and asking you your name. "Will Prescott," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Kian Benefield," he says. "This is Zion and and Isaiah." They each say "Hey" at you.<br/>
<br/>
There's not much talk as you lug the rest of the boxes down. No one has anything to say to you, and amongst themselves there's just a little shop talk about the drive. But when you're done, Zion—a dark-skinned kid with fluffy brown hair and features that are somewhere between Arab and African—nods at you. "So, we're gonna go pick up something, bring it back to eat," he says. "You in?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will has to get home for supper," Naomi calls. How she managed to hear what he said, as she's halfway across the room and engrossed in talk with her friends, you don't understand.<br/>
<br/>
So, spitefully, you reply, "If someone pays for it, sure. I'm owed money anyway." Zion's eyebrow goes up.<br/>
<br/>
"We said we'd pay him," Naomi explains. She sighs, as though deeply disappointed and not a little aggravated, but goes over to a table to pick up her purse. "How much did we say?" she asks Kennedy.<br/>
<br/>
"Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Would five be enough?" Naomi asks you.<br/>
<br/>
You can hardly believe your ears. <i>"Five?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"It's for charity," she reminds you with a roll of her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Five won't even cover the gas I burned!"<br/>
<br/>
Kennedy says, "Don't exaggerate!" and goes back to talking to the girl with the kinky brunette hair.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck this," you grumble, and wheel for the stairs. But you have to piss, so— "You got a bathroom I can use?" you ask Kian,<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure." He's been looking confused and a little embarrassed, and there's a hunch in his shoulder as he gestures you to follow him. He leads you up the stairs into the garage, then into the house. Just inside is a laundry room, and just off the laundry room is a small bathroom. You shut the door and relieve yourself, then splash a little cold water on your face.<br/>
<br/>
When you wrench the door open, you're surprised by a girl standing on the other side. She's playing with her phone, but she looks up at you from under her brows with a sly smile as you boggle at her. "Hey," she says, in a low, throaty voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you reply. Then, "Sorry for making you wait, I'll get out of your way."<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay. Just don't go away mad."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
You hadn't paid much attention to her down in the basement, where she was keeping to herself as she folded clothes. She has straight, dark-blonde hair with just a the faintest shade of rust in it, and a light blush of strawberry-pink under her clear white skin. Her eyes are small, and they almost disappear when she smiles, as she is doing now. She's got wide hips, and though she isn't fat, she does look soft and a little plump all over.<br/>
<br/>
"They really pissed you off down there. Kennedy and Naomi, I mean," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well—"<br/>
<br/>
"Go ahead and say it. They're not friends of mine."<br/>
<br/>
"They just offered to pay me for my time is all, and then—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're a senior, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Thought so. How do you know Naomi and Kennedy?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't. I don't know <i>anyone</i> here!"<br/>
<br/>
"Roberta," she says, and puts out her hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. Uh." You take her hand. "Will. I'm sorry, I'm—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be. If you want some money, get it from Kian or Zion. They'll understand."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want money—"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you did."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not from them."<br/>
<br/>
"They're in charge of things. The charity drive. Though you wouldn't know it from the way Naomi and Kennedy are carrying on. <i>They're</i> only helping 'cos they're friends with Christine."<br/>
<br/>
"Christine?"<br/>
<br/>
"Zion's girlfriend. Do you have a girlfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel your eyes widen. "Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, that sounded pretty bold of me. I just meant, do you know what it's like to have a girlfriend who has pushy girlfriends, and they all push you around?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Because Zion does. I thought you might sympathize."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Well—"<br/>
<br/>
"I do have to pee," she says. "Mostly I wanted to tell you 'sorry' for Naomi and Kennedy, and not to think that we're <i>all</i> bitches here. But I do also have to pee."<br/>
<br/>
You scramble out of her way, and with a smile she slips past you into the bathroom and shuts the door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Zion is waiting in the garage for you. He tries giving you a twenty, and when you insistently turn him down he says he and Kian will cover for you if you want to go with the rest of them to get sushi, which is the plan that's evolved. You're about to turn him down again when he mentions that there's not enough rides for everyone, and that if you went you could maybe give someone a ride in your truck?<br/>
<br/>
That sounds even more insulting, but you pause. You still have that mask with you that you've been trying to get onto someone all day. One person, in your truck, would finally give you a chance at that.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111134522
author_id: seuzz
title: Death Drive
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You've never really been into sushi, and even less into the kind of kids who are into it. Still less would you like the idea of breaking bread at any table where Naomi and Kennedy are sitting.<br/>
<br/>
But neither do you want to be the kind of dick who turns down what sounds like a veiled apology. Besides, of everyone you've met out here, only those two girls have been really unpleasant.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay," you tell Zion. "I can give someone a ride. And no one has to pay for my food."<br/>
<br/>
Zion winks and makes finger-guns at you. "Just try to stop us!" he says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It takes awhile for people to come drifting out from under Kian's garage, during which time you text your mom to say that you're still helping on that charity drive and you're all "taking a break" for dinner. (You've no idea if it's a "break" or if everyone will be going home afterward, but you figure calling it a "break" will give you room to stay out late.) You were hoping that that Roberta girl might the one you'd give a ride to, but she's riding with someone else, so you get a different girl hitching along. "Hi," she says as she climbs into your truck. "My name's Virginia."<br/>
<br/>
"Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Will what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. "Oh," she says as you start your truck. "I thought you were saying you were going to do something."<br/>
<br/>
It's not a propitious start to the drive, and for a moment the two of you look kind of askance at each other.<br/>
<br/>
Her name is Virginia Moss, you find out, and she looks a bit goth. She's very small and skinny, with a pale complexion that's just a little too powdered, and lips, lashes and eyebrows that are just a little too black. Her hair is short, dark, and layered,  with reddish highlights that are pretty obviously tinted. She wears a black t-shirt with a band name on it, and jeans fashionably torn across the top of one thigh. She also wears a silver necklace, a black leather arm band, and tiny, black onyx earrings. Her voice is soft and small, and her expression grave.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you open by complimenting her on her style.<br/>
<br/>
"I was born under the sign of Saturn," she replies. "That makes me saturnine."<br/>
<br/>
"I ... guess it would."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know about astrology, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you confess. "Just what I read on Chinese menus."<br/>
<br/>
"It's silly, of course," she sniffs. "I don't even believe it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. So why do you know about your sign?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't," she says. "But somebody told me that once, and I just found it interesting. They told me that's why I dress this way. Because I'm saturnine, born under the sign of Saturn."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not because you're a goth?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," she says with obvious disdain. "It just makes me comfortable."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Comfortable like a rattlesnake,</i> you think. "Uh, this charity drive, is it for a school project or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Class project. <i>Junior</i> class project," she corrects herself. "Zion organized it. I mean, he's class president, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" She actually sounds shocked. "I thought everyone knew Zion."<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone in the junior class, maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not a junior?" Again she sounds surprised. "You're a sophomore?"<br/>
<br/>
"Senior," you correct her through a clenched jaw.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God." She covers her face with her hands. "There, I went and did it again. I'm always doing that. Saying exactly the wrong thing."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's alright," you protest. "I, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not alright! Oh," she groans. "I'm so sorry!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's nothing, no big deal! Really!"<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" She lowers her hands far enough to peep out with an apologetic smile. "Because I didn't mean to insult you."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not insulted."<br/>
<br/>
Quite the opposite. You actually begin to warm toward her, a little.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She tells you more about the charity drive, and it thaws her out so that she smiles more and even relaxes a little. She tells you how Zion put it together and is running it mostly with the help of Kian and a few other people like herself. She disparages Naomi and Kennedy and a few other people, telling you that they're only working on it because it will look good on their college applications, while Zion and his friends are doing it because they actually want to help people. "It wouldn't do <i>me</i> any good on a college application," she tells you. "I'm not going to college/"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Become a beautician, probably. No one in my family ever went to college." She says this while gazing out the window of Keyserling College, the campus of which you are passing.<br/>
<br/>
You were bringing up the rear of a four-car caravan and are the last to arrive at Osaka, a tiny little Japanese restaurant squeezed into a triangle where three major streets intersect, and you have to park across the street and cross Borman to get to it. Everyone else is seated by the time you get in, and you and Virginia have to squeeze in side by side at the end of the table. You're glad to see that Naomi and Kennedy are seated at the far side. Roberta is seated near you, though, next to a girl you recognize from film class: a soft, lumpy looking person with granny glasses and a pale face that's freckle-free despite her red hair.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Will." Roberta greets you with a lazy smile. "Glad you made it. I was starting to think Virginia kidnapped you and took you to Kooky Koffee instead."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know that one," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"She means The Crystal Cave," Virginia says in an almost inaudible voice. Her eyes are downcast.<br/>
<br/>
"That's it! That's your favorite spot," Roberta says. "I think I see you there every time I go in."<br/>
<br/>
"Must be a coincidence," Virginia says. "I'm hardly ever in there."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you introduce me to everyone else," you interrupt before things can get more awkward. "Or, at least, tell me who everyone is."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure!" Roberta exclaims. "This is Meredith," she says, pointing her friend, who makes a weird kind of pinched, closed-mouth smile at you, like she's trying to stop something that'll fly out of her mouth if she parts her lips. "And Steven—"<br/>
<br/>
"'T'sup," says the long-faced, dopey-eyed guy in the ski cap and the t-shirt emblazoned with a marijuana leaf. He's the other person from Mr. Hawks's class you know. "And Kian and Christine, next to her boyfriend—"<br/>
<br/>
That would be the girl with the long, kinky brunette hair, sitting next to Zion. Seen in profile, she has an overbite like something you'd see on a <i>Simpsons</i> episode, but she's actually kind of cute.<br/>
<br/>
"—and Naomi and Kennedy, who you know, and Natasha and Timothy."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's everyone else?" You are missing a couple of faces.<br/>
<br/>
"Went home. That's how come you had to give Virginia a ride." It sounds like there's a hidden meaning in what she's said.<br/>
<br/>
You're starting not to like her attitude, so you twist around to concentrate on Virginia. "I'm not big on sushi," you tell her. "Is there anything I can get that doesn't have raw fish in it?"<br/>
<br/>
Roberta answers for her. "You can get a California roll."<br/>
<br/>
You gently nudge Virginia. She lifts her head with a start and says, "Yeah. You can get a California roll." That's when you see that she's tapping into her cell phone under the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Zion and Kian said something about paying for mine. Is a California roll cheap?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty cheap," Roberta answers. "Philadelphia roll is cheaper, but it's got raw salmon in it. Actually, the salmon roll is the cheapest thing on the menu."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you getting?" you ask Virginia.<br/>
<br/>
"Tako nigiri."<br/>
<br/>
"So saturnine," Roberta sighs, theatrically.<br/>
<br/>
Virginia bolts to her feet and runs from the table. A few people glance up in surprise, but Roberta just rolls her eyes. "Tako nigiri is octopus, Will," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You give her a hard look, then push yourself to your feet and follow Virginia around the corner she disappeared past. You stop dead, though, when you find the corridor dead-ending into the Ladies' room.<br/>
<br/>
You loiter there, for now you've just about decided that Roberta is as bad in her way as Naomi and Kennedy are in theirs, and don't want to go back. You're not given a choice, though, for a minute or so later Roberta appears.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh," she says. "I was almost expecting to find you inside." She tries to push past you, but you block the door with your arm. She looks at you in surprise. The moment hangs.<br/>
<br/>
Then she sighs. "I can tell you're trying to be a gentleman, Will," she says. "But it's wasted. She's just being dramatic. And you don't want anything to do with her, trust me. She's a vampire, an emotional vampire." When you say nothing, she sighs again. "Do you think I'd be mean to someone for the sake of being mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I don't know you. You might."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I wouldn't. Virginia's a leech. I feel sorry for her, actually. Or I would, except she's driven too many people I know crazy. But find out for yourself." She shrugs. "Maybe you'll get away in time. You <i>are</i> a senior." She turns and walks off. <br/>
<br/>
You wait for Virginia. It's several more minutes before the door opens and she comes out. This time it's you who startle someone coming out of a bathroom. "Oh!" Virginia gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"I couldn't follow you in."<br/>
<br/>
"No you couldn't," she agrees. "I didn't expect you here." She pauses. "I heard you talking to Roberta."<br/>
<br/>
"Forget her."<br/>
<br/>
Virginia's face tightens. "I wish I could. But she's had it in for me ever since ... Well ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Since what?"<br/>
<br/>
Virginia glances at you uneasily. Then she says, in a very low voice, "Roberta's a lesbian, and she made a pass at me!" She shivers.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And wouldn't you know it, you're stuck between them at the end of the meal as well. Meredith, who gave Roberta a ride out, has to leave early, so Roberta asks <i>you</i> for a ride. When you glance at Virginia, she says, in a small voice, "It's okay. I can squeeze in with Naomi."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1111345222
author_id: seuzz
title: Slaughterhouse Drive
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't want to give Roberta a ride, but when Virginia scurries off to get into a car with Zion and Kian, you surrender to the inevitable. "I'm parked across the street," you tell Roberta.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought we were kind of hitting it off back at Kian's," she says as she accompanies you back to your truck. "But I guess I'm now in the same doghouse as Naomi and Kennedy."<br/>
<br/>
"Not the same doghouse."<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you sidelong, then says, "Oh. I get you. A different doghouse."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I don't know any of you," you tell her after you've climbed into your truck, "and maybe I don't want to. Too much drama."<br/>
<br/>
"If you think we've got too much drama, you should try the drama club. That was a joke," she adds.<br/>
<br/>
"I get it. But it's nothing personal with me, if you've got a problem with Virginia. I don't know her either, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"But you thought I was being really rude, and it made you feel chivalrous."<br/>
<br/>
You give her a look. She smiles back impudently. "You don't know <i>me</i> either," you remind her.<br/>
<br/>
"No, but I think I get you. You know," she says as you start the truck and plunge out onto Borman, "not every guy would've run off to follow Virginia to the girls' room. What did you talk about on the ride out here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Stuff. Stuff to do with your charity drive."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think she's cute?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" You almost steer into oncoming traffic.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think she's cute?" she repeats. "I think she's cute."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she's not my type."<br/>
<br/>
"What is your type?"<br/>
<br/>
You sigh and squirm in your seat. <i>Of all the fucking things to have to talk about.</i> But Roberta doesn't let you off the hook. She just sits in the passenger seat, half turned, to stare at you with that impudent, knowing smile.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you finally tell her. "No type in particular."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what kind of girl do you jack off to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>Jesus!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Or aren't you particular there, too?"<br/>
<br/>
"All kinds! Alright?"<br/>
<br/>
"I won't ask if you'd jack off to Virginia. You probably won't, now. I think I'm probably giving you some kind of psychological block. I'm just trying to figure out— If you're not <i>chivalrous,</i> Will, then you must like her, even if you won't admit it. I mean, you chased her back to the girls' lavatory—"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know the girls' room was back there!"<br/>
<br/>
"Point is, you chased after her. Because you liked her? How come? Her looks, her personality? Because," she says as she swipes your ball cap off your head and examines it, "you both root for the same baseball team?"<br/>
<br/>
"What the—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I just thought it might have a team logo on it." She slaps it back on your head, and you resettle it with a muttered curse. "Do you know where you're taking me?"<br/>
<br/>
You look around, and realize that you haven't even asked her where she lives, that you're basically driving back to your place. So you ask for her address.<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna make you a peace offering," she says. "You can take us to the Dairy Queen and I'll buy you a cream-cone."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to do that."<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, you do. Because I'm not telling you where I live until we've had those cream-cones."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The Dairy Queen isn't far off, and the sushi wasn't filling, so you capitulate. Roberta insists on going inside rather than using the drive-thru, and on sitting at a table in the back while you eat your soft-serve ice creams. You never liked Dairy Queen particularly, but it's sweet, and she's paying for it.<br/>
<br/>
Roberta eats hers very slowly, as though trying to make your time together last, with lots of breaks between bites as she tells you about herself. She's from elsewhere in the state and moved to Saratoga Falls with her family when she was young. It's not the worst place in the world to live, she tells you, but she's not going to stay in town if she can help. <i>Brown University,</i> she tells you, is where she aims to go, if she can keep her grades up and get a free ride. Otherwise ... She shrugs and says that Oregon or Washington or Colorado might suit her. <br/>
<br/>
She also talks about the charity drive, and her relationship with the others who are helping out. What she tells you parallels what Virginia said. Zion Barber, the class president, organized it and is running it with a strong assist from some of his friends, like Kian and some other guys she names. But she's more cynical about him than Virginia. "He's a hustler," she tells you. "No, that's not fair," she corrects herself after a moment's thought. "But he is a politician. That's how come he gets along so well with Naomi and the others."<br/>
<br/>
<i>And what does she think of them?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Peh. They're hustlers too, but they're self-hustlers. They hustle themselves. I mean, they're selling themselves, like, to colleges, but also to themselves. They want to be so <i>good.</i> I mean, I want to be good too, and I'm definitely gonna use this and anything else I can get into on my college applications. But I <i>know</i> that's why I'm doing it. Naomi and Kennedy and Natasha, though." She shrugs. "They're doing it for themselves, but they still thinking doing it makes them a <i>better</i> kind of person."<br/>
<br/>
<i>And what about Virginia?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Virginia's a true believer. I bet she told you that, too. But she is." There's a gleam in her eye as she says, "That makes her and Timothy the only real victims of this whole scam."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a scam?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm being metaphorical. Everything's going to charity, yeah. But Virginia's really only helping Naomi and Zion and them, 'cos they're the only ones that are going to get anything out of it."<br/>
<br/>
"And the people who get the clothes and food."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. No one's doing anyone any good, Will, as long as we live under a capitalist system."<br/>
<br/>
You don't want to get into politics, so you ask why she's got such a problem with Virginia.<br/>
<br/>
"I was hoping you'd ask me about Timothy," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"Is he another true believer?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. It's just that Natasha's got him wound around her little finger, so he dives into the clothing donation box when she says 'Fold'. He won't even get anything good for his college applications out of it, and I doubt he gives a shit about the actual charity work."<br/>
<br/>
"You sure are cynical about everyone." Maybe her cynicism is rubbing off on you, or maybe you just have the urge to scrape her face across the same cheese grater she's using on everyone else.<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs and takes another bite of ice cream. "You said you didn't know any of us, so I'm telling you. I think you also said you didn't <i>want</i> to know about any of us, so I'm helping you there, too."<br/>
<br/>
"So tell me about Virginia. She told me you made a pass at her."<br/>
<br/>
Roberta's eyes actually go wide, and she stops in mid-chew. Then leans back and slowly and elaborately rolls the wad of ice cream around in her mouth before sucking it down.<br/>
<br/>
"I really pissed her off at the restaurant, didn't I? Go, me. I didn't make a pass at her, Will. Not never. She just <i>wishes</i> I did. It'd be another part of her self-victimization thing."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"She thinks she's a victim. She wants to be a victim. She's helpless and she wants people to carry her. I mean, she's not <i>cynical</i> about it. She doesn't even know she does it. She just thinks she's helpless, so she never tries, and tries to get others to do it for her instead."<br/>
<br/>
"Do what for her?"<br/>
<br/>
Roberta rolls her eyes. "Jesus. Everything. Best way I can describe her is—"<br/>
<br/>
"You called her a vampire."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah. But if you don't like that, think of her as like a drowning person, who won't even try to save herself, won't even <i>try</i> to swim. Just wants people to dive in and carry her, like a dead weight, back to shore. But you can't carry a dead weight back to shore, Will, you can only be pulled down by them and drown yourself. <i>That's</i> the problem I have with her. I've known girls—and guys," she pointedly adds, "who swim out to save her, and she latches onto them, and just pulls them under. She just sucks all the emotional labor from them, makes them work and work and work to make her feel better about herself but she never does. She just demands more. That's why I call her a vampire."<br/>
<br/>
You're all done with your cone, but Roberta still has the little nubby bottom of hers pinched between her fingers. She examines it.<br/>
<br/>
"That's how come I wanted to know why you went after her. Did you like her? Or did she make you feel ... <i>chivalrous</i> ... by going after her, by jumping into deep water to save her? Are you chivalrous, Will?" There's a taunt in the question. "Or were you thinking with your willie? For your sake, I hope it was only because she gave you wood."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Roberta finishes her cone and ducks into the restroom to wash her hands. You're left wondering what to make of this girl. Never mind if she's right about her friends, you've no way of judging that. But you find yourself of mixed mind about <i>her.</i> Part of you likes her for being so bold. The other part of you, she makes its skin crawl.<br/>
<br/>
You're walking back out to your truck, across a parking lot across which dusk has fallen, when you remember how you got here: You've got that mask you wanted to test out. Now you've got someone you can test it out on, and you doubt you'll find a more convenient time or location.<br/>
<br/>
But the part of you that Roberta fascinates wonders: <i>Maybe I should show her the mask instead, and the book that made it.</i> She seems very smart, and brave.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11113452222
author_id: seuzz
title: A Book Study with Roberta
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What are you doing after school tomorrow?" you ask Roberta.<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you with a raised eyebrow. It's not until that moment that you realize you have opened the passenger-side door of your truck for her. "Are you asking me out on a date?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"N-no!"<br/>
<br/>
"I might go on a date with you, Will," she says as she climbs in. "Just don't expect to get any action."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace as you shut the door on her. After you've gone around and gotten in, you say, "It's just that I've got this project I'm working on, and I want to show it to someone."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of project?"<br/>
<br/>
You haul out your backpack, and dig around until you pull out the mask. "Careful with this," you tell her as you hand it to her. "But it has to do with that."<br/>
<br/>
Roberta takes and studies it by what dim light comes filtering into the truck cab from the lights of the Dairy Queen. "What is it?" she asks. "Besides its being a mask."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure," you confess. "Even though I, uh, made it."<br/>
<br/>
"You made it, but you don't know what it is?" she asks. When you don't answer she says, "It's really good, whatever it is. You did a good job." She turns it over and over in her hands. "How'd you make it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's what I want to show you. I made it with the help of this old book ..."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's really all that you tell her, but she agrees to stay after school tomorrow to look over it all with you. "You'll have to take me home," she says. "I take the bus or get a ride from friends."<br/>
<br/>
That night, at home, after giving it some thought, you pack up everything that you used to make the mask and put it in a duffel bag, which you put in your truck. You figure that <i>showing</i> her the book won't be at all convincing unless you also show her what it can do.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The two kids from Mr. Hawks's class that you met last night are in class the next day, and both look up at you with recognition in their eyes. Meredith—the lumpy redhead with the weird mouth—has a bright look on her face as she makes another weird, closed-mouth smile at you. Steven—the stoner kid with the ski cap—nods and calls out, "You get'cher money from Zion and Kian? Cool," he says when you nod.<br/>
<br/>
Keith looks at you askance as you settle into your desk in front of him. "What are you selling these day?" he asks. "That you're getting an income."<br/>
<br/>
"My services."<br/>
<br/>
"Sexual? Feh!" His lip curls. "No one'd give you nothing for that!"<br/>
<br/>
"I helped those guys"—you nod at Steven and Meredith—"with a school project yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? How much'd you get?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like, fifteen dollars. Actually, I just got a free meal out of it. They paid me back."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sushi.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude! Raw fish? And I didn't mean, what'd you eat. I meant, what'd you help 'em with that you got free food?"<br/>
<br/>
"Picked up boxes for a charity drive, drove 'em back to a dude's house."<br/>
<br/>
"You got paid in <i>raw fish</i> for <i>that?</i> Fuck, new meaning for the phrase 'raw deal'!" He snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"You know anybody who's a junior?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah sure, why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just wondering. It was a project for the junior class, and I was just realizing I don't think I know anyone in the junior class."<br/>
<br/>
He smirks. "How'd that happen? You knew a <i>bunch</i> of people in the junior class last year!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who did I know?" you demand. Not until he sniggers do you get the joke—that you and him and your whole class were "juniors" last year. You flip him off and turn around.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You keep your eye open for some of the other people you met yesterday, but you don't have any of them in your classes, and you don't see them in the hallways, either. In your seventh-period study hall you text Roberta (who gave you her number) to remind her that you're to meet just inside the student parking lot, next to the theater, when classes end. She answers with a "thumbs up" emoji.<br/>
<br/>
Still, even though you don't rush out, you have to wait nearly ten minutes before Roberta appears, in the company of twin girls. She briefly introduces them to you as Paris and Peyton Morrow, and chats a bit more with them about some common acquaintances and plans for the upcoming weekend before seeing them off. "Now then, Will," she says with her usual impudent smile. "What's this big mysterious thing you want to show me?"<br/>
<br/>
You lead her to your truck but you don't drive anywhere, for after giving it some thought you've decided to make the demonstration up here at the school. So you start by showing her the book, telling her where you found it and bought it, and showing her how the pages don't turn. You also tell her that you got the first page to turn after impressing a bloody thumbprint to it. She looks interested but skeptical. Finally, as you anticipated, she challenges you to show her how you used the book to make that mask.<br/>
<br/>
The school has cleared out a lot by now, but you invite her to follow as you lug the duffel bag over to the viewing stands that look out over the grassy soccer/football fields and track. You lead her around to their far side, putting them between you and the school, so that you won't be as visible.<br/>
<br/>
Roberta frowns as, item by item, you unpack the ingredients, and she picks up the packages and fingers them. Using a couple of those items as a paperweight, you lay out the piece of paper onto which you'd copied the spell's sigil, and onto it set the mixing bowl. Into it, using your notes, you pour out the measured ingredients and set it on fire. Roberta cries out at the stink, and both of you fall away, but the afternoon breeze quickly dissipates it and the white smoke. Still, Roberta has a sneer of disgust on her face as you pour the runny batter onto the convex mirror. You invite her to touch it and pick it up, which she does, gingerly. She is frowning at when she gasps and drops it like a snake.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," you tell her, and point to the thing she dropped. Her eyes go wide as she kneels in the grass and bends over it.<br/>
<br/>
For it is now a mask, identical (save for being white) to the other one you showed her. You take it from the duffel bag to show her, so she can compare them.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, she asks why the color is different. "You have to polish it," you tell her. "It took me all week."<br/>
<br/>
She sucks in her lips, then picks up the first mask and examines it. Then—<br/>
<br/>
"It's a trick," she says, looking up at you with a heavy frown. "It's sleight of hand, you—"<br/>
<br/>
You raise your open palms. "You want me to do it again? Look around, look in my bag, where did that thing go to, the thing we poured out. You were the one that was holding it. It was, like, spherical, it didn't look like that—" You point to the new mask. "And you were holding it when—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, okay," she mutters. "Lemme see the book."<br/>
<br/>
You push it over to her. She flips between the pages that will turn, and turns pale. Then she closes it and looks at the cover and spine. "Oh my God," she groans.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know." She opens the book. "What's it supposed to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're supposed to put it on," you tell her. "Or someone's supposed to put it on."<br/>
<br/>
"And then what?"<br/>
<br/>
You lick your lips. "Well, according to the book, it ... absorbs the form of the person who puts it on."<br/>
<br/>
Roberta's eyes go very big. "What does that mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I haven't tried it yet."<br/>
<br/>
She balances the blue mask in her hand. "Were you going to try?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was kind of hoping I'd find someone else who, uh, would help."<br/>
<br/>
Your voice dies in your throat as Roberta looks up at you with a piercing glance.<br/>
<br/>
Then, before you can dodge, she lunges forward and smashes the mask into your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are very groggy when you wake, and sore from being kicked in the hip. You open your eyes, and through the brilliant, late afternoon sunshine, peer up into the face of ... someone. He's big and muscled and there's dense black stubble on his cheek and chin.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, youzits," he says. "We need the field."<br/>
<br/>
"Whuh?" You sit up, and almost pass out from the flash of pain that briefly grips your skull.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we got practice. Move it somewhere else."<br/>
<br/>
You look around. Big guys in shorts and jerseys and lacrosse gear are moseying around the field. You mumble your apologies and scramble to your feet. The other guy gives you a doubtful look, and moves off.<br/>
<br/>
The first thing you notice is that Roberta is gone. The second is that all your stuff is also gone—book, duffle bag, ingredients, instruments. "Hey!" you call to the guy. "You seen my stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"What stuff?" he calls back, and resumes walking away.<br/>
<br/>
You stagger back to your truck. On your way over, you call Roberta. (Your phone, clothes, and keys seem to be the only things she's left you.) "Hi," she says in a very clipped tone when she answers.<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you?" you ask. "Where's my stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm on my way home, and I've got your stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Well, where can we meet so I can get it back?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not giving it back to you," she says. "I'm getting rid of it, Will. It's <i>evil.</i>"<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111134522221
author_id: seuzz
title: The News from Roberta
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>At first, you're sure that you must have misheard her. Did Roberta really say she's getting rid of your stuff—the masks, the tools, the ingredients, and the book—because they're evil? "What did you just say?" you ask as you trot across the Westside athletic fields toward your truck.<br/>
<br/>
"I said, I'm getting rid of it. All of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because it's <i>evil.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
So, yeah, you did hear her right. "What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, if you want to talk about it—"<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not saying. But if you want to get together to talk—"<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna bring my stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
You hang a hand on the door handle of your truck. Your brain, still foggy from ... whatever happened ... is reeling. "That's <i>my</i> stuff!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to argue with you, Will, I— Oops, my ride's here. If you want to talk about it, call me later." The line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
You try calling her again, but it goes straight to voicemail. It's only then that the penny drops: <i>My ride's here.</i> Roberta told you she needed a ride from school, so if someone is picking her up she must still be on campus! You bolt toward Borman Avenue, which fronts the school.<br/>
<br/>
And you're just in time to see a blue sedan swing out of the teacher's parking lot and turn back to town.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!" you scream into the empty afternoon. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck <i>fuck!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are able to retrieve one scrap, at least. A piece of white paper, skittering across the student parking lot, catches your eye, and you grab it before it can blow completely away. It's the copy you made of the sigil. But without the list of ingredients, and the correct proportions, what good will it do you? Still, you fold it up and shove it into a pocket.<br/>
<br/>
Mulish with anger, you take a long way home. "Wash up for dinner!" your mom cheerily calls when you finally come stomping into the house, and at the dinner table afterward you eat in a moody silence, hardly taking notice of anything. No one says anything to you, but after you've helped clean up the kitchen, your father intercepts you on your way to your bedroom. "Something happen at school today, Will?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You give him a startled look. Your dad doesn't often take an interest in your activities or moods, except when he needs you to do some work or run an errand, or if you've pissed him off with some show of temper. His question to you now, though, is asked in a soft voice and with a look of genuine concern. And what was that question? <i>Oh yeah. Did something happen at school today?</i><br/>
<br/>
"No, uh, sir," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Is something wrong here at home?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
Now his eyebrows do lower fractionally. "You seem to be upset about something."<br/>
<br/>
You wince. How do you explain to your aeronautics engineer father that a girl from the junior class stole a magical grimoire from you?<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing in particular, Dad. Just a generally shi— bad day."<br/>
<br/>
He nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, I've had shi-uh-bad days myself. How's your homework coming?"<br/>
<br/>
"Haven't started it," you confess through a clenched jaw.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm not trying to run you out of the house," he says as he takes out his wallet and extracts a twenty. "But if you want to take your homework somewhere and get yourself something good, you can use this." He holds out the bill.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, that makes you feel abashed and you apologize for your mood. But you do take the money and you do take your books and you do drive down to the Starbucks, where you plug your earbuds into your phone and listen to music while doing your math and other assignments. Every twenty minutes or so you pause, thinking you should try calling Roberta, but you keep putting it off. And you still haven't called her when you hear someone call out: "Hey Will!"<br/>
<br/>
You look up. It's Zion Barber. He's leaning against the front counter, and he chucks his chin at you. Standing behind him is one of the guys from Kian's house yesterday: a burly looking dude with close-cropped hair that is either a sun-bleached brown or a very dirty blonde. "You doin' homework?" Zion more or less yells from halfway across the store.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I'm about done." You pull the buds from your ears.<br/>
<br/>
"Shane'n me are comin' back from doing ours over at Christine's. We were makin' a party of it but, uh—" He grins back at Shane. "We're not done yet!"<br/>
<br/>
You ponder a moment. "Was Roberta there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Robbie? Nah." Zion grins. "How'dju make out with her last night? <i>Did</i> you make out with her last night?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"I heard you went and got cream-cones for dessert." He breaks away to collect his order, then he and Shane come sauntering over. "Mind if we sit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Go ahead. Who told you Roberta—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Robbie," he corrects you.<br/>
<br/>
"That Robbie and me went to Dairy Queen?"<br/>
<br/>
"Robbie said. She said you're a man of mystery!" He waggles his eyebrows over a wide grin.<br/>
<br/>
Shane guffaws. "Oh, fuck me."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we just talked an—"<br/>
<br/>
"You get together after school?" Zion sips from his cup, and the foam makes a dirty-white mustache on his mocha-colored upper lip. "She told me you and her were s'posed to meet up—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we did. That was ... weird."<br/>
<br/>
"What was?"<br/>
<br/>
You lean back to squint at Zion and his friend, weighing how much to tell them and whether it would do you any good.<br/>
<br/>
"I had a project I wanted to show her. Kind of a, um, arts and crafts thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Robbie digs arts and crafts."<br/>
<br/>
Shane says, "I thought she was a drama person."<br/>
<br/>
"She's all of that and more." Zion chucks his chin at you. "So you were showing her some arts and crafts thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. And she ... grabbed it from me and took off and ran."<br/>
<br/>
Zion's eyes pop. "She what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's kind of hard to explain. But we were out in the athletics fields after school, because we need some open air to show her the thing— How I made it, I mean. And then— Well, I kind of nodded off or something, and when I woke up—"<br/>
<br/>
"You fell asleep?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... yeah. And when I woke up, she was gone and she took all my stuff and she's telling me she won't give it back." You squint again at Zion and Shane, who are looking back at you with slack-jawed incredulity. "Does she do stuff like that? I mean, regularly?"<br/>
<br/>
Zion blinks at you a couple of times. Then he says, "You fell asleep?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Well," he says, "that might be it. If you fall asleep on a girl she might hold a grudge, and Robbie—"<br/>
<br/>
"Is she a lesbian?"<br/>
<br/>
Both Zion and Shane go very quiet. They look everywhere but at each other and at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Zion finally says, in a carefully neutral voice, "she <i>says</i> she is—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't believe it," Shane says with a snort. "She's just saying that to get attention."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, she—"<br/>
<br/>
"She's too flirty." Shane takes a deep sip off his drink, then nods as he sets it down. "She says that to get dudes all excited."<br/>
<br/>
"She get <i>you</i> excited?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah. She never talked to you about your Percy before?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she talked to me about mine, wanted to know all about it." The two argue for awhile about whether a real lesbian would want to talk to a guy about his dong. By the time they finish, they've forgotten how they even got onto the subject, and get up to leave. Zion does wink at you, and says that Robbie's fun so long as you don't take her too seriously or get serious about her. You're left wishing you could have gotten that advice before this afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Along about nine you break down and finally text her. <i>Do u want t talk abt tday yet I'm at starbucks.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fifteen minutes later she replies to say that you can call her if you really want to talk.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you say when she picks up. "What's all this stuff about—?" You catch yourself and take a deep breath. "I'm not gonna get mad," you tell her, "but why did you take my stuff and why won't you give it back?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because it's bad, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"What's bad about it?" you protest. "I wasn't using goat's blood or sacrificing a chicken—"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't see what it did to you!"<br/>
<br/>
"What did what to me?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a long silence. Then Roberta—Robbie—whatever—says. "You told me you had to try putting that mask onto someone."<br/>
<br/>
"Right."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you know what it was going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, no. That's why I—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's pretty damn selfish of you, Will! Who were you going to try using it on? On <i>me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Okay, truthfully, you were. But you changed your mind, so it's not a <i>lie</i> when you deny it.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't believe you!" she huffs. "I think that's why you showed it to me, so you'd get me to volunteer. That's why I— Okay, I put it onto you first. Because I thought <i>you</i> should be the—"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, you put it onto me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you remember? I picked it up and I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, yeah, now I remember. You, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! Well, I pushed it into your face, and it <i>vanished,</i> Will!" A tremble comes into her voice. "It went right through your face and <i>into</i> you!"<br/>
<br/>
You're stunned. "What do you mean it—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't describe it any better than that! It went <i>into</i> you! And it freaked me the fuck out!"<br/>
<br/>
She takes a few gasping breaths before she resumed. "That's real magic, Will! It's the real stuff, in Latin with pentagrams and everything! I don't think it's something to play around with! That's why I grabbed it and ran, and I'm getting rid of it for you. <i>It's evil!</i>"<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1111345222211
author_id: seuzz
title: Exit, Stage Left
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Roberta's account of what happened yesterday does sound pretty scary, and it doesn't get any better.<br/>
<br/>
"I was so freaked out," she tells you. Her breathing is labored, and you have to press the phone close to your ear to make out her words. "I didn't know what to do! You weren't just, like asleep. It was like you were in a coma! I couldn't get you to move or wake up, and I was slapping at you hard! I didn't know if you were ever gonna wake up again, and— So was I supposed to go find someone? How was I supposed to tell a teacher or a paramedic that we were playing with <i>magic spells?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
So she started frantically rereading the spell, translating it on her phone, to find out what was supposed to happen. When, to her intense relief, the mask reappeared on your face, she peeled it off and was going to wake you, but then she saw the lacrosse team coming out to practice, so she shoved all your stuff into your duffel bag and bolted because she didn't want to be caught there with you.<br/>
<br/>
And by that point, as she was hustling back toward the school and speed-dialing a friend to pick her up, she had decided that the stuff was way dangerous. Evil, even. Real black magic shit.<br/>
<br/>
And the fact is, you are spooked enough to pretty much agree with her.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do with it?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"Get rid of it."<br/>
<br/>
"How?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I think I mentioned to you, when I originally bought the book, it was because I was gonna put in our class's time capsule."<br/>
<br/>
"Could you still do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well ... no. We buried it last Friday. But I know where it's buried. If you wanna dig it up and put the stuff in there—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'll think of something else. Maybe I'll bury it in my back yard."<br/>
<br/>
There's a long and awkward silence.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, it's really freaky," you say when the silence has gotten unbearable, "thinking that there's really something ... magical ... out there."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not something to think about, Will," she says in a very firm tone.<br/>
<br/>
"But isn't it interesting? I mean—"<br/>
<br/>
"It <i>is</i> interesting," she agrees. "But that's why it's ... <i>g'yuh!"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Are you religious?" you ask. Her reaction does surprise you a little, as she's been so cynical up to this point.<br/>
<br/>
"No. But this doesn't have anything to do with religion or God or anything like that. It's—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're talking like—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm an atheist, Will! There's no magic man in the sky telling us what's good and what's bad."<br/>
<br/>
"So how come—?"<br/>
<br/>
"But there's still good and evil, okay? Still right and wrong, and there's things that are—" She sighs. "I mean, you don't have to believe in <i>God</i> to think that racism and slavery and exploitation and injustice are <i>wrong!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"But you're calling it <i>evil.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes I am. You're way too interested in this stuff, Will. Are you sure you <i>really</i> want to get rid of it?"<br/>
<br/>
Actually, put that way, you're not sure you do. It is, as you told her, interesting. But you say, "Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, then you just let me get rid of it and you don't worry about it."<br/>
<br/>
You relent, and soon afterward you hang up. Neither of you says anything about seeing the other one around.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Weeks pass and September turns into October. The thought of that book, and the near-miss you had with it, does prey on you heavily at first, but less and less as the time passes. You and Roberta do glimpse each other a couple of times in the hallways or outside between classes, but except for a certain look of recognition that passes between you, neither of you acknowledges the other. <br/>
<br/>
You do see some of the others you met on that charity drive, and it is through them that you have another brush with that oddity from the start of the semester.<br/>
<br/>
For after that thing with the book, you decided that you needed a distraction—some kind of extracurricular project—to occupy your mind and hands and keep them from wandering off and getting into trouble. That's how you let Keith Tilley (who shares that film class with you) talk you into helping out with a YouTube channel run by a couple of acquaintances of his. Carlos Montoya and Mike Hollister are film nerds, and with technical help from two other guys they have their own "movie review" channel online, where they talk about select current releases and favorite old movies. You and Keith start by helping them out with the little skits they put on before and during the review portion, but there's already talk of the two of you joining Mike and Carlos (on air) in order to get extra credit in your Film class.<br/>
<br/>
On a late Saturday morning, then, you and Keith and Mike and Carlos are at the Silver Cinema for a special showing of <i>Quo Vadis,</i> an old, 1950s Bible epic, for which you and Keith are planning to do a special presentation for Mr. Hawks. You're buying your tickets when you hear a shout, and see Steven and Meredith (also from that class) and a couple of more people coming up.<br/>
<br/>
You're all standing around together at the candy counter getting refreshments when Meredith nudges you, and says that right after the movie she's driving back to Westside to pick up Roberta, and asks if you want to come. When you ask why Roberta's at the school, she tells you it's for a technical rehearsal of the school play. She was understudying for one of the leads, and when that girl broke her leg—"Pretty ironic, huh?" Meredith asks with that corkscrew twist of the lips that's her way of smiling—Roberta is having to step in at the last minute. You feel a little bad for having lost all contact with Roberta after that one afternoon, so you say you will.<br/>
<br/>
And that's how you wind up in the school theater on a Saturday afternoon, when otherwise there's no possible way you'd be there.<br/>
<br/>
The rehearsal is well underway—almost done, it turns out—by the time you and Meredith sneak into the auditorium. You have no idea what's going on on-stage, except that the extravagantly gay Charles Hartlein, in an obviously fake beard, keeps jumping in and out of a wheelchair while shouting insults and epigrams at the other actors. You don't really start paying attention until Roberta comes sweeping on stage, only to get shut up inside a mummy case (?!) and carried off-stage. The rehearsal winds up not long after, and with a poke to the shoulder Meredith pushes you to your feet and thence down into the wings.<br/>
<br/>
There's lots of people back there, including adults who look like they must be parents. Everyone seems frazzled and in a state of nervous collapse. Roberta is nowhere to be seen, but someone calls your name, and you turn around to face—<br/>
<br/>
Well, it takes you a moment to recognize her through the costume and the make up. Certainly you don't remember seeing Laura MacGregor with her hair piled atop her head in a small tower. And has she put on a couple of pounds since the last time you saw her?<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God, Will," she gushes. "What are <i>you</i> doing back here?" She glances past you at Meredith, and raises an eyebrow. <br/>
<br/>
"I was just coming back here to see—" You catch yourself. "I didn't recognize you out there, on stage." You point to her hair.<br/>
<br/>
"You like it?" She pats it gingerly, as though afraid of knocking it over. "I'm thinking of wearing it this way more often. My God, I haven't <i>seen you</i> in forever! And it's not like we're at different schools!"<br/>
<br/>
That is weird. Laura hung out with you and your friends through the first half of high school. And then you didn't have any classes together and somehow never saw each other, and then, without quite noticing it, you never really saw her again or even noticed that you were not seeing her around anymore.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll go find Roberta," Meredith says.<br/>
<br/>
"You were looking for Roberta?" Laura asks. Some of the warmth evaporates from her tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Meredith was. I, uh, just tagged along. We were at the movies. I mean, a bunch of ran into each other at the movie, and then—" By not interrupting, and listening with an intense interest, Laura makes you stammer out a long and boring and not entirely truthful account of your afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
Then, with a smile, she plucks you by the arm and leads you across the stage to the other wing. "It's less crowded over here," she says (though it doesn't seem to be) and starts worming out of you an account of your schedule and what you've been doing, and gives an account of herself as well.<br/>
<br/>
And it's while glancing around as you listen that you notice a large, open-topped box sitting nearby. Your eye is drawn to a book in a red leather cover sitting atop the other contents. When Laura reaches a stopping point, you ask her about it.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, that's just some props Mr. Wilkes is looking through for the next play. So anyway, that art class we were taking—?"<br/>
<br/>
You listen with as much polite interest as you can muster while oh-so-idly picking up the book and examining it. Red leather cover with a pentagram on the spine. And when you try to open it to the middle, the pages won't part. There seems little doubt it's the same book.<br/>
<br/>
But one thing about it is different. <i>None</i> of the pages will open, not even the ones at the front. And even the cover appears to be glued down.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11113452222112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Final Shot of the Story
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You drop the book back into the box and turn your attention back to Laura. When some of her friends gather, you agree to drive out with them for a post-rehearsal dinner and party. Roberta is there, but you do no more than exchange a few tense but polite words with her. You certainly don't ask her about that book you found backstage.<br/>
<br/>
And that is basically that. The semester ends and another begins, and eventually it's May and the last day of school. You're carrying your stuff out to your truck for the very last time when you see Roberta leaning against the side of the theater, texting on her phone. You'll probably never have another chance to talk to her again, so on an impulse you swing over to say "Hi." She actually greets you with some warmth, and that impudent smile of hers pops up when, after a little catching up, you ask what she did with that book. Did she wind up burying it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," she says. "You remember what they did with the Ark of the Covenant at the end of <i>Raiders?</i>" You nod. "Something like that," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You don't say anything about what you spotted backstage last October in the theater, but you do ask if she's sure that kind of strategy will work. "What if someone finds it and opens it and gets curious?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think they will," she tells you. "You remember how all those pages wouldn't open? Well, I glued <i>all</i> the pages shut, including the cover. It just looks like a stage prop now. I'm pretty sure that's all people will think it is."<br/>
<br/>
And with that, you feel that you don't have to ask any further about what became of it.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1111345222212
author_id: seuzz
title: The Unnameable Dread of Unutterable Things
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Roberta's account of what happened yesterday does sound pretty scary, and it doesn't get any better.<br/>
<br/>
"I was so freaked out," she tells you. Her breathing is labored, and you have to press the phone close to your ear to make out her words. "I didn't know what to do! You weren't just, like asleep. It was like you were in a coma! I couldn't get you to move or wake up, and I was slapping at you hard! I didn't know if you were ever gonna wake up again, and— So was I supposed to go find someone? How was I supposed to tell a teacher or a paramedic that we were playing with <i>magic spells?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
So she started frantically rereading the spell, translating it on her phone, to find out what was supposed to happen. When, to her intense relief, the mask reappeared on your face, she peeled it off and was going to wake you, but then she saw the lacrosse team coming out to practice, so she shoved all your stuff into your duffel bag and bolted because she didn't want to be caught there with you.<br/>
<br/>
And by that point, as she was hustling back toward the school and speed-dialing a friend to pick her up, she had decided that the stuff was way dangerous. Evil, even. Real black magic shit.<br/>
<br/>
But the longer she talks, the more skeptical you get.<br/>
<br/>
For a start, you're not even sure she's telling the truth.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, you can believe that maybe <i>something</i> happened when she hit you in the face with that mask. It did seem to knock you out. But it "disappeared into" you? That's some pretty lame-sounding shit, if you're talking about "black magic." Shouldn't she be telling you about smoke and fire and a hissing or shrieking noise, weird symbols appearing on your face, and maybe you levitating? But it just "disappeared into" you? And then it just came back, all very quietly? That doesn't sound real.<br/>
<br/>
And Roberta doesn't seem like the kind of person to worry about what's "evil," anyway. She's pretty goddamned sarcastic about people, and she's got a mouth on her, too. Now she's acting like an old church lady, calling your book "black magic" and "evil"?<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," you say. "Well, if you don't want it, I'll take it back."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna <i>give you back</i> something that's dangerous, Will! I wouldn't give you a pile of <i>plutonium!</i> I'm not giving <i>this</i> back to you!"<br/>
<br/>
"So you're just gonna keep it? Even though it's 'dangerous'? Like <i>plutonium?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't <i>want</i> to keep it." She sounds peevish. "I don't want it anywhere near me! Who knows what it could ... attract."<br/>
<br/>
You can't resist jeering. "Like demons?" Roberta is the very last person you can believe legitimately believing in the occult.<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. She says, "Now you're just trying to get my goat."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Your demonic goat,</i> you mutter under your breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen," she says, and all of a sudden she sounds quite fervent. "You don't have to believe in God or the devil—<i>and I don't,</i> Will!—in order to think there could be some ... funky stuff out there. Like, you don't have to believe in Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster to be scared of, like, Great White sharks or grizzlies."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you're talking about."<br/>
<br/>
She sighs. "It's like in a book I was reading once," she tells you in a pinched and ragged voice. "Do you get how freaking little we know about the universe? We don't even know anything about our planet, like what's even in the oceans, let alone under the ground. We're like ants walking on the surface of an orange. Or on a big old slimy ball of mud. We know what's on the surface, but what's <i>under</i> the surface, what's under there that could—?" She struggles for words. "Could come wriggling out. You could be walking along all innocent, but there's a spider underneath, and it could <i>jump out</i> and grab you. There's enough stories out there about ... things, Will. I don't mean ghosts or demons, but about <i>weird stuff.</i> And that book and that thing you made, that's <i>weird stuff.</i> I don't want it to turn out to be like ... a sugar cube or something, that'll attract ... things!"<br/>
<br/>
By now there's a hard shiver in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Sounds like someone's been reading Lovecraft," your friend Carson Ioeger says the next day at lunch, after you recount your phone call with Roberta. You don't tell him anything about the book or your adventure with it, or even that she'd stolen it and some other stuff from you. You just tell him you were talking to a girl about some stuff and she said <i>yada yada yada.</i><br/>
<br/>
And after he got over his <i>hilarious incredulity</i> that you were <i>talking to a real, live girl</i> ("As if, Prescott! As! Fucking! If! Pwha-ha-ha!"), he offered some offhand thoughts about what she'd said.<br/>
<br/>
You admit you'd never read "Lovecraft," you'd just heard the name, and when Carson drops the name "Cthulhu" you tell him that, Oh yeah, you'd heard of <i>him</i> (or it), but you still aren't sure what he's saying.<br/>
<br/>
He sighs deeply through his nose. "Then I'll bring you in one of my books and you can borrow it. Or— No, fuck that. You can check one outta the library." You're lounging out front, on the grass, with your lunches, and he points at the library with a kick of his foot. "That'll explain it," he says, "assuming your reading comprehension is high enough." You flip him off.<br/>
<br/>
But when your seventh-period study hall rolls around, you do go looking for some Lovecraft books in the library. You find one and sit down to read it, but quickly discover that each story is a choking tangle of purple prose, so dense and clotted that you can hardly decipher the sentences. After manfully struggling through the opening paragraphs of three different stories, you toss it aside and slump in your chair.<br/>
<br/>
And then, because you've lost all taste for the dry, silent, sterile atmosphere of the library, you hike your pack onto your shoulders and go outside. It's a clear, sunny, warm day, so you're not surprised to stumble across two other students, sitting with their backs against the library wall, gazing out across Borman Avenue. But it startles you a little to see who it is: Virginia, from the charity drive on Monday, and Shane, from Starbucks. You greet them with a startled "Hey!" and they look up with surprised "Heys" of their own.<br/>
<br/>
Virginia is dressed much as she was on Monday, in a black t-shirt and skinny jeans with holes in the thighs. And she's as made up as she was on Monday with mascara, dark lipstick, and hair with a hint of tint in it. Shane is more strikingly dressed, in tan khaki trousers and Converse sneakers, but also in a long-sleeve dress shirt, necktie, and sleeveless gray sweater. It's the kind of clothes that you'd expect some kind of dweeb to wear, but they show off Shane's burly torso, and his short haircut and bold stare complete the impression of a field jock dressed for a church function. You are feeling severely underdressed in your own billowy t-shirt and cargo shorts as you drop our pack at their feet and plop down next to them.<br/>
<br/>
"What'cher doin' out here?" Shane asks. The question isn't unfriendly, but it is direct. "Skippin'?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got a study hall but I'm sick of the library. What about you?" You didn't have study halls when you were a junior.<br/>
<br/>
"Skippin'," Shane says. He twiddles a long piece of grass between his fingers, then puts it in his mouth. "Too nice a day out."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and glance at Virginia. Her gaze is distant, but she seems to be looking at something behind your ear. You twist around to glance back, but see nothing. When you twist back again, she's looking elsewhere, with the corners of her mouth pulled slightly down.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh hey, I was gonna ask," Shane says, "yah get yer things back from Robbie?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Pff. I called her last night, but she won't give 'em back."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa. Whadja do to her?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't do <i>anything!</i> She just— I don't get it. She's weird."<br/>
<br/>
"She's a tease," Shane agrees. Then he turns his head to stare intently at the side of Virginia's head. "I'm glad she's not my type," he says. Virginia hitches her shoulders, but says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know what I'm going to do," you say. "It was stuff I was working on."<br/>
<br/>
"Arts and crafts type stuff, yah said?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right. I was working out of a book, and she grabbed it and the other stuff, so now I'm I'm stuck."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't yah just get another copy of the book online?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so. It's an <i>old</i> book." You tell him briefly of finding it in the special collections section of Arnholm's, and how it was originally a couple of hundred dollars, but you got it for nearly nothing after pointing out some "damage" to it. "So even if I found another copy," you tell him, "I couldn't afford it because it's, like, super rare and valuable."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa!" For the first time Shane actually seems interested in your plight, and Virginia is also listening intently. "So she took like a, what? An <i>antique</i> or somethin' from yah? And she won't give it back?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like Robbie," Virginia murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
Shane sits up very straight, looking keen and concentrated. "Yah know, if I talked t'er, if me and Zion talked t'er, I bet we could—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so. She—" You weigh your words carefully. "She thinks the book is 'dangerous'. It's really old, and some of the stuff it uses is weird. I think she thinks I'll hurt myself."<br/>
<br/>
Shane snorts. "She thinks everyone's a baby, e'cept her. But yah know, there's <i>one</i> surefire way t'get it back."<br/>
<br/>
You raise a querying eyebrow. Shane grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Break into her place and steal it!"<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11113452222121
author_id: seuzz
title: Heist School Drama
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Oh my God!" Virginia cries. "Shane! You're not serious!"<br/>
<br/>
"I am! Totally!" He grins. "You should be too," he tells you, "if yah really want your old book back."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't break into someone's house!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure yah can. We can, I'll help. I know how we can do it."<br/>
<br/>
"You'll get in trouble!" Virginia protests. "You could get arrested!"<br/>
<br/>
Shane snorts. "No we wouldn'. Robbie's mom or dad'd  be there. I'm not talkin' about <i>breakin' in,</i> like with a crowbar. I can set it up with Zion this afternoon, when I see him next period. We can do it this afternoon,"  he tells you.<br/>
<br/>
And when he explains his plan, you impulsively throw in with him, figuring you will never have a better chance of getting your shit back from Roberta.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She and her family live in a ranch house not far from your friend Keith, but it's a nicer house on a nicer street than where he lives. You get there about thirty minutes after school let out. Shane drove, and he also laid out <i>in detail</i> how the operation is to work.<br/>
<br/>
"First thing is," he said, "you need an alias. What's your middle name?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... Martin."<br/>
<br/>
"Martin," he echoed, and seemed to roll it around in his mouth. "That'll work, that'll be perfect, even. It could be a first name or a last name. Okay, when we go in there, yer name is Martin. I'll introduce yah. Keep your mouth shut an' let me do the talkin'."<br/>
<br/>
"Why do I need an alias?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because it's yer stuff, an' yah don't want it pegged on yah when it goes missin'. It'll be either me or it'll be Martin who walked off with it, an' I'm gonna be in the sittin' room all that time, so it'll be Martin who gets the blame, unless yah give yer real name, an' then it'll be <i>you</i> who took it. Yah get me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I see."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so, second—" He does a double take at you, and with a meaty paw grabs the cap off your head and hurls it into the floorboard. "So second, leave that behind," he orders. "When Robbie asks her mum who this 'Martin' was, yah don't want her pickin' yah out with any identifyin' characteristics, yah know? That hat o' yours—" He gives you a critical once-over. "Yeah, without it yah could pass as anyone, just some jimmy from school.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, but second," he continues, "when we get in there, after a minute yer gonna excuse yerself to use the little boys' facilities, but instead yer gonna sneak into Robbie's room to snoop fer yer stuff while I keeps her mum occupied. By the way, I'll prob'ly have to tell her somethin' about you needin' to take a mighty dump, so it's b'lievable that yer gone awhile, which you might be."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay."<br/>
<br/>
"Third, when yah find yer things, pop it out her window. There's a bush right outside—I'll point it out when we get there—an' make sure it drops down between it and the wall. That way, when yah come out, yah won't have nothin' incriminatin' on yah. Oh, an' after yah get yer thing, text me." He gives you his number, which you put in your contacts. "Yah don't have t'send a full-on text or nothin'. Just tap in a letter or a number when yer ready to come back out 'n join us. Then, when yer back I'll tell Robbie's mum it was a text from <i>my</i> mum, an' we have to go. Then we're out."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa."<br/>
<br/>
"An' last, yah keep yer fuckin' phone on, in case I needs t'alert yah. I won't bother sendin' a text niether, just a letter or a number or <i>somethin'.</i> If yah get a thing like that from me, you <i>hide.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Gotcha."<br/>
<br/>
That was pretty much it. You're on your way to Roberta's on the pretext that Shane needs to talk to her, with you dangling along as an extra, but Roberta won't be there because Zion (as Shane has arranged it) has offered to give her a ride home but will distract her with errands first.<br/>
<br/>
It's all so well thought out that you had to ask him if he does this kind of thing regularly. "Sometimes," he told you, "when I've got a prank I wanna play, which 'tween you an' me is pretty often. But I like gamin' this stuff out even if I don't got a play in mind. Runs in the family, sort of." When you asked what he means by that, he told you that his dad is a colonel in the Australian army, who came up through the special forces, and is currently stationed at Fort Suffolk. When you asked if he himself was born in Australia, he said that he was but has been living in the States since he was nine, and in Saratoga Falls since he was fourteen. You guess that's why you've detected the trace of a non-American twang in his accent.<br/>
<br/>
And now here you are, ready to put the plan into effect.<br/>
<br/>
As you walk up to the house, Shane points out Roberta's window, and the trim little hedge directly below it. "You'll have to get the screen loose," he murmurs to you. "Also, when yah head off to the can, put on the light and the ventilator, and pull the door closed b'fore headin' down to her room. Gotta make it look real."<br/>
<br/>
The door is answered by a woman who looks like a middle-aged version of Roberta: pear-shaped, with jowls and lines in her face, but also with a bright eye and sweet smile. No, Robbie's not home, she tells Shane when he asks, but she expects her along pretty soon, and would you like to wait inside? Shane nods and mentions it'll be Zion bringing her along "right quick." "Oh, this's Martin," he adds, jerking a grudging thumb in your direction. You smile tightly at Mrs. Barr and say, "Hi."<br/>
<br/>
She leads you into a small living room that isn't messy, exactly, but looks and feels a lot more lived-in than your house. There's magazines and newspapers scattered around, and there's a musty smell, as though it hasn't been vacuumed or dusted in awhile. The TV is turned to a talk show. Mrs. Barr pushes you and Shane toward a low-slung sofa while she takes an easy chair. She turns the volume on the TV down but doesn't shut it off, and her eye darts toward the screen occasionally even as she asks Shane how he's doing and how his classes are going. You're counting down to ten as he answers, meaning to wait until you hit zero before you move, but he nudges you in the side, so you scoot forward and ask if there's a bathroom you can use. Mrs. Barr smiles and points to a hallway leading off in the direction of Roberta's room.<br/>
<br/>
That bathroom is just off the hallway, and you reach in to flick up all the switches and pull the door shut, then pad down to the T-junction at the end of the hall, where two doors face each other on opposite sides of the short cross-hallway. You dip into the one on the left, pushing the door quietly shut behind you after entering.<br/>
<br/>
Roberta's room is small and done up in tans and browns: dark brown carpet, a light-mocha bedspread on a twin-size bed, and faded wallpaper. There's a walnut chest of drawers, and a  desk in the corner. Between them is a low bookcase stuffed with paperbacks. School books are stacked up on the chest, and notebooks and papers lean against an ancient-looking PC on the desk. There's clothes scattered across the floor, and you flinch a little when you recognize a discarded bra amongst them.<br/>
<br/>
You tackle the bookcase first, but there's nothing there but paperbacks, some of a fantasy theme, others science fiction, and still others that (judging by their titles) might be true-crime books. Next you paw through the stacks on the desk and chest of drawers. Nothing. You lightly step on each of the piles of clothes, feeling for something ungiving beneath, but without any luck. You fall onto your stomach and look under the bed. At first you think you might be in luck, as there's something about the size and shape of your book, but when you pull it out you find, to your disappointment, that it's just a board game. The dust gets in your nose, and you have to stifle a sneeze.<br/>
<br/>
You've been putting it off, hoping you wouldn't have to, but you next tackle the drawers. It gives you the jumps to tuck back and search through the socks and bras and underthings in the top drawer, and you're scarcely less sweaty as you look through the folded t-shirts and shorts in the second and third drawers. But in the bottom drawer, under a stack of Levis, you finally find something: the mask!<br/>
<br/>
Your heart is straining, like a piece of taffy being pulled every which way, as you lift it out. It seems to glow from within, and the light from the window gleams and scatters over its polished surface. You're about to tuck it under your shirt when you remember Shane's instructions, and move to the window.<br/>
<br/>
But as you're pushing the curtains back, a charcoal-gray sedan pulls smoothly up to park in front of Shane's. You frown at it, then are jolted into a panic as Roberta gets out of the passenger side. She leans in to say something to the driver, then shuts the door and turns toward the house. You let the curtain drop and bolt for the bedroom door.<br/>
<br/>
But as you lay your hand on the handle, you hear Mrs. Barr's voice right outside, muffled but distinct enough to make out her words: "—have it right here in the linen closet." You back away from the door, looking wildly around.<br/>
<br/>
And then your phone dings with a text from Shane: <i>n.</i><br/>
<br/>
Through the curtained window you see that car still parked there. Is Roberta back for just a minute, or for good? Should you try escaping through her window, or hide in her room until the coast is clear?<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111134522221212
author_id: seuzz
title: The Closet Case
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You start to raise the window, then catch yourself. There's still the screen you'd have to get through, and you'd probably break the hedge all to pieces if you tried climbing out.<br/>
<br/>
And then, how would you get the window closed and screen fastened back? If Roberta comes in, she would certainly catch you before you got away, and even if she didn't the driver of that car would see you.<br/>
<br/>
But most of these rationalizations occur to you only afterward, when you're standing in her closet, holding your breath and trying not make a sound as Roberta, on the other side of the door, rummages through her room. Really, it was just a flash of instinct that said, <i>Stupid move, Will,</i> as you put your hand on the window latch.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>What is she doing out there?</i> you wonder in your panic as Roberta moves about. She's been at it for, like, an hour, it feels, though you know it's probably closer to only a minutes.<br/>
<br/>
Your first instinct was to dive under the bed, but then you remembered how dusty it was under there, and how it made you sneeze. Your second instinct was to go for the closet, but you froze because that seemed like the first place she might look inside if she came back into her room. So on third instinct you glanced back at the bed, and when on fourth instinct you opened the closet door and found that it wasn't even a walk-in closet, it was more of a coat closet, so you had to override your fifth instinct to go for the bed, and go with your sixth instinct, which was to slip into the closet after all. <br/>
<br/>
It is filled with dresses, and after pulling the door softly shut, you pushed your way into a back corner and slid the dresses over to put as many of them as possible between you and the door. Still, you can see the door over the top of the rack, so anyone who opens it will be able to see <i>you,</i> even if they don't see your calves and shoes, which are fully exposed below the hems of those dresses. Your only hope of not being discovered, then, is if <i>Roberta doesn't open her closet door.</i><br/>
<br/>
You just had time to suck in a deep, terrified breath before you heard her bedroom door open and slide back across the carpet. Bedsprings creaked, and you heard a crackle of papers being shuffled. Then a very long silence. You tried to keep your own breath to nearly nothing (even as your pulse was pounding and your lungs were bursting) as you heard someone talking very softly to themselves on the other side of the door. Eventually came the swish and hiss of curtains on runners.<br/>
<br/>
That was bad enough, but soon came worse: the sound of dresser drawers sliding open and shut.<i>She's looking through her dresser!</i> you thought. <i>What if she notices the mask is gone?</i> You are holding it your slippery hands, and you grip it closer. True, the mask was <i>under</i> all of her jeans, but suppose she digs deep for a special pair of jeans, or what if she is even <i>looking for the mask now?</i><br/>
<br/>
Then your heart almost explodes through your throat when you hear voices: muffled, but clear enough to understand.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, can I help you?" Roberta asks in a very brusque and business-like tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, just killin' time, waitin' fer my friend." That would be Shane.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you tell him to hurry up? I need to pee too."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... sure. Where's you and Zion going?"<br/>
<br/>
"Old Navy."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. So—"<br/>
<br/>
There comes again the sound of a door sliding over the carpet, followed by a thump. Roberta says something under her breath.<br/>
<br/>
Bed springs creak again. A moment later there's a soft knock on a door, and you shudder hard. "What?" Roberta shouts.<br/>
<br/>
"Bathroom's clear!"<br/>
<br/>
"Good!" Roberta mutters more to herself. Footsteps. A door opening and sliding over carpet. Then silence.<br/>
<br/>
Almost you faint. But even with sweat drizzling down your brow and face, and your knees creaking from standing so still, you manage to keep on your feet.<br/>
<br/>
From far off, finally, you hear a noise that sounds like another door closing. You dare to let yourself relax a tad, and lean back, putting your shoulders against the wall—<br/>
<br/>
Your phone goes off, sounding like a dozen xylophones clattering down a flight of stone steps. Almost you scream. <i>What if that had gone off while Roberta was out there?</i><br/>
<br/>
Then: <i>What if she </i>is<i> out there and I just don't know it?</i><br/>
<br/>
Frantically, you feel for it in, and thumb it into silence.<br/>
<br/>
You listen. Everything is quiet.<br/>
<br/>
And you dare to check the phone. It's a text from Shane: <i>Come out lets go</i><br/>
<br/>
You're shaking all over when you emerge from the closet and totter from the bedroom. You didn't find your book, but you just want to be out there before Roberta comes back!<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's no one in the living room when you emerge, and you have to hunt through the rest of the house before finally finding Shane and Mrs. Barr out in the tiny garage, where she's talking at him at about a mile a minute. The big door is up, but the air inside is still oppressive and smells of gasoline and grass clippings, probably on account of the lawn mower wedged up against the back wall. Shane breaks off from listening to Mrs. Barr long enough to nod at you and grunt, "Oh, there y'are, man. I'm about ready to go."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I won't keep you," Mrs. Barr says, "that's got to be enough." Shane nods, and off a narrow work table he picks up a cardboard box. "I don't know why Roberta didn't tell me this clothing drive," Mrs. Barr continues before interrupting herself. "Oh! And there's a recycling center outside the Good Will, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes'm, I think so."<br/>
<br/>
"Could you—?" She crosses to a tall cabinet and opens the door at the top. "Recycling doesn't pick up plastic bags, I don't know why, so I keep collecting these things because paper bags are such a pain." From the top shelf she pulls down a puffy white plastic bag, about the size and shape of a small tumble weed. Tufts of other plastic bags sprout from its mouth. "But I know they take these at the recycling centers. So when you run by there—"<br/>
<br/>
The rest of what she says gets lost as you stare with pop eyes at the cabinet door she just closed. In the brief moment between when she pulled her bag of bags down, and when she shut the door, you saw something red and rectangular inside. Like a book.<br/>
<br/>
Then Shane is talking. You're still not paying attention until he says, "Uh, you coming, uh, Martin?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" You shake yourself from your shock. Mrs. Barr turns to beam at you, and you—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh shit.</i> You shift the mask you're clutching to your other hand so you can shake hers. You are wobbly on your feet as you follow Shane out.<br/>
<br/>
Then, halfway down the driveway to the street, you pause and glance back. The garage door is still up, but the garage is empty. You fancy seeing the doorway leading into the house just clicking shut.<br/>
<br/>
For half a second you are frozen in a heart-sickening paralysis.<br/>
<br/>
Then you scamper back into the garage and tear that cabinet door open. You don't even pause to look, you just pull down the red leather book sitting high on that shelf and slam the door shut again. Shane, standing by his rear bumper, is giving you a puzzled look as you come sprinting back to meet him. You tear open the passenger-side door and leap into his car. "Let's get the fuck outta here!" you pant as he, more sedately, climbs in behind the wheel.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So, Shane doesn't blame you for not dropping stuff outside the window, like he told you, and only congratulates you on getting away with carrying that "thing" out of the house without Mrs. Barr noticing it. "Jesus, that was almost a clusterfuck," he mutters as you're driving away. Roberta, he explains, just <i>had</i> to come home to change before heading out with Zion on his errands. "And where was you?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"The closet."<br/>
<br/>
"Christ. Yah should'a gone under the bed."<br/>
<br/>
"I got away with it, didn't I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. And what <i>didja</i> get away with? What izzit?" He jerks his chin at your two spoils: the mask and the book.<br/>
<br/>
And yes, when you finally checked it after Shane pulled away from Roberta's house, it <i>is</i> the book she took from you.<br/>
<br/>
Shane seems content when you tell him that it's that old, priceless book you wanted back, plus something you made with it and showed to Roberta. But he is still curious about why she'd take it from you and not give it back.<br/>
<br/>
The simplest thing to tell him that is that she was just being stubborn—maybe she was being "flirty" with you. It seems like the kind of thing she would do, and he'd probably buy it and then forget about it.<br/>
<br/>
But he might mention this adventure to her, just to brag. You don't know what Roberta could do to you after she finds out what you did to get the stuff away from her again, but it would be better if you could trust Shane not to say anything to her at all.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe you could get him to keep his mouth closed if you showed him the mask and the book, and told the full story about them.<br/>
<br/>
Besides, he seems like he could be cool with it.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Conspiracy of Two
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb frowns as he studies the book, trying to turn its pages while fingering the mask. "Pretty freaking weird," he says for the fifth or sixth time that afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not making it up."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not saying you are. I mean, here's this thing," he says of the mask, "and a pretty damn good likeness it is too." <br/>
<br/>
Actually, it's just a generic face, with a brow and nose and cheekbones and chin and the faint impression of a mouth. Still, it is far more subtle than anything you could have made on your own. <br/>
<br/>
"The thing is," you say, "it's not good for anything until it's been polished, and I keep rubbing it and nothing happens."<br/>
<br/>
"What, like Aladdin's Lamp?" Caleb asks. "Maybe it's like getting scratches out of plexiglass. You have to rub it forever before it's smooth."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, I haven't got time to work at it that hard."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoever said magic would be easy? Look at computers and how much programming goes into them."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you volunteering to polish it until it finally works?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, let's make another one." He starts pulling out the ingredients you'd shown him. "I wanna see this magic stuff in action." <br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," you sigh. "I got in trouble when I made this one. It makes a horrible smell." You think a moment. "Let's do it at the clubhouse." <br/>
<br/>
Caleb blinks, then grins.<br/>
<br/>
The "clubhouse" is actually the basement of an abandoned elementary school a few blocks from your house. Two years ago you found an outside door leading down into a basement storeroom. No one seems to go in there—though parts of the old school are now used as a community center—and you padlocked the door with a lock of your own. You'd shown it to your friends Caleb and Keith, and last Halloween you guys even hung out down there, telling ghost stories and drinking cheap liquor. It's been many months since you've been back, but it would be the perfect place to experiment.<br/>
<br/>
Quickly you gather the supplies and take them out to Caleb's car. Your dad's face shows relief as you pull out of the driveway.<br/>
<br/>
Your key still fits the padlock, so apparently no one has tried to get in since you were last here, and the place is still crowded with junk. Caleb watches as you set up tables and fans under the windows that peek out just above ground, but he stops you before you can begin. "Lemme try," he says. "I wanna see if this magic stuff only works for the guy who owns the book."<br/>
<br/>
So under your guidance he mixes the ash and ice and other whatnot; he leaps back as it smokes and pops; you hold your noses and gag at the stench. Caleb dumps the mix over the upturned mirror and puts the match to it; he picks up the shell after the flames wink out, and it twists in his hand just as yours had. <br/>
<br/>
He's breathing heavily. "I said I believed you weren't making it up. But actually I kind of didn't." He gulps. "But now I really do."<br/>
<br/>
To be honest, part of you regrets he can also do the spells. But mostly you are relieved to have someone to share it with—and to help you decide what to do with it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You know, if these things work, we could pull some awesome pranks," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
It's Wednesday, and you're sitting in the elementary school's semi-abandoned playground, each with a mask, polishing away. You'd discovered that intense rubbing at a single spot would buff a mask from a dull gray to a brilliant blue, so you and Caleb have gotten together each day after school to talk, horse around, watch a movie, or otherwise waste time while finishing off the masks. It's tedious work, but when you are done you will have two masks, doubling the amount of fun you can have.<br/>
<br/>
"Except the book's really vague about how they work," you remind him. "I mean, how do we copy people into them?"<br/>
<br/>
"I assume they're like a mold," Caleb says carelessly. "Like, you get up close to someone—" He mimes shoving his mask into your face.<br/>
<br/>
"That's another thing," you reply. "How do we get close to the people?"<br/>
<br/>
"Depends on who it is. Got any ideas?"<br/>
<br/>
Well, there's Geoff Mansfield for a start; he's been hanging around Lisa lately and it would be nice to ruin his chances with her. There's also lots of guys at school you could pretend to be, so as to get close to their girlfriends: Marc Garner, Ricky Golia, Ethan Nieves—<br/>
<br/>
"What about Jeremy?" says Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Richards? Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because he's a dick."<br/>
<br/>
Well, there is that. Jeremy Richards was one of your friends in middle school, until he hit a growth spurt and tried out for the basketball squad. Now he hangs out with the jocks. He doesn't jeer at you and his other former friends, exactly, but he treats you like you're not cool enough for his company any more.<br/>
<br/>
"And we could use him to get close to some other guys," Caleb continues, warming to his idea. "Like, clone yourself as Richards, then get close to Javits and clone him." He leans back with a grin. "Then call Cindy. So hey, wanna come over and suck my cock tonight?" he says, dropping his voice to imitate the basketball player's.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God." You close your eyes and put your head back. The thought of that bosomy, willowy cheerleader slurping all over you, even if it's because she thinks you're her boyfriend ... "But how do we get the original people out of the way while—?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shrugs. "We'll think of that when the time comes."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The time comes, as far as you're concerned, the next day, when you stumble onto Geoff and Lisa outside the cafeteria. You instantly take in the scene: Her, gazing into his face with the kind of rapt expression you wish she had looked at you with; him, gazing back with a cool half smile. "Guys," you mutter, and try to dodge past.<br/>
<br/>
"Hi Will. Have a good weekend?" Lisa asks with careless grace.<br/>
<br/>
"It was four days ago, I don't remember," you growl. <br/>
<br/>
"What a busy life you must lead," Geoff says with light sarcasm.<br/>
<br/>
The hair on the back of your head goes up. "What're you doing next weekend?" you ask Lisa; you'll be damned if you're going to let Geoff just scoop her up. "Wanna see that new CGI movie with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to see a cartoon, do you?" Geoff sneers.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm really not into those," Lisa says, and your jaw clenches.<br/>
<br/>
"How about golf?" Geoff suggests to her. "My uncle has a membership at the country club."<br/>
<br/>
"Can Will come along?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I can only bring one guest."<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay, I don't know anything about golf," you blurt out, then mentally kick yourself hard.<br/>
<br/>
"We could all go see a movie on Sunday," Lisa suggests brightly. "That'd leave Saturday for something else." She smiles up at Geoff.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll give you a call," Geoff tells you. He starts to leave, then pauses to look expectantly at Lisa. She follows him without even saying "Bye" to you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you're at the clubhouse furiously buffing a mask when Caleb catches up to you. "Got an idea for who you wanna use it on, huh?" he says with gentle sarcasm. You tell him of your encounter with Lisa and Geoff. "Jesus, Will, this is bigger than them. You need to expand your thinking. What's a little revenge—?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not revenge! It's about saving her from him! The guy's a jerk and she's a— a fool if she can't see that!"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "So you're gonna clone yourself as Geoff and act like a really big jerk, so she'll understand that he's a big jerk."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Christ."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, don't try giving me advice! It's not like you've been a lot of help.!"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up." His tone catches your attention, and you look up to find him glowering at you. "I've been on your side, you know, so don't give me any shit."<br/>
<br/>
His tone suggests there is more here than just anger at the way you snapped at him. "What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you steadily, and when he speaks he very calm, with none of the stuttering tone he's used before when discussing Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
"She was never into you," he says matter-of-factly. "She just thought of you as someone to hang out with over the summer. But now school's back, and it's her senior year, and she's looking for a real boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if that's your opinion—" you say, face flushing.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not my opinion. Lisa won't tell me anything, but I've talked to Eva and that's what she says."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Eva is a cunt."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe, but that's what she says Lisa told her."<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb stare at each other without blinking. When you look away, it's because you have to blink back hot tears of rage and humiliation.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb leans forward. "Look, dude. Lisa's not worth it. I know she's pretty and she's usually nice. But there's something missing inside her. It's weird, but she'd be nicer if she were an actual bitch, like Kelsey and them. But she's not really that different."<br/>
<br/>
You toss the mask away. It suddenly seems pointless. If Lisa really is that kind of girl, then who are you to come between her and Geoff? They deserve each other. <br/>
<br/>
Caleb puts the mask back in your lap. "So she's not worth it," he says. "We can have fun with other people with these."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb hasn't finished his mask when you meet in the clubhouse on Saturday, but yours is done, and he whistles appreciatively at it. "So who do we try it on?"<br/>
<br/>
You've been giving it some thought, now that the point has come. "We don't know how they work. It could be dangerous."<br/>
<br/>
"So who—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Let's try it on Geoff. We could do it in the movie theater in the dark."<br/>
<br/>
"You said it could be dangerous!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so I think—"<br/>
<br/>
"And I wont let you throw it away on Mansfield. Let's call Richards." <br/>
<br/>
"So if it's dangerous, let's try it on ourselves."</span></div></div>


path: 11121
author_id: seuzz
title: You Yourself and Him
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb's eyes bulge. "Are you crazy? We don't know what'll happen!"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. It would be—" <br/>
<br/>
But you can't finish the thought. For if it's unethical to test them on other people, it would be unethical to indulge all the other plans you've been fantasizing about.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you want to be your own lab monkey, go ahead," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Right," you say. "I'll try it out, and you watch to see what happens. Jump in if it looks like, you know, something's going wrong." Despite your attempted bravery, your stomach flops about at the thought of "what might go wrong."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," he says after taking a deep breath. "How do we do this?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance around and spot an old cafeteria table under some desks; after clearing it off, you lay down on it. "Maybe I better take my clothes off," you mutter after a pause. "In case they interfere," you add when Caleb looks at you funny.<br/>
<br/>
The basement is cold and dirty, so you're really uncomfortable as you lay back down, naked, on the table. "Put it on me," you tell Caleb as he starts to hand you the mask. "That's how we'll have to do it with other people, after all."<br/>
<br/>
"Are we going to make them get naked too," he asks sarcastically, but you ignore him.<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and hold your breath as the mask settles on your face. For a moment you are aware of its cold, plaster-like touch. Then it becomes very warm, and a great weight seems to settle all over your body. Your eyes sink shut and—<br/>
<br/>
"Shit!" you cry, and raise a hand to your stinging cheek. You are stiff and numb all over, and only with great difficulty do you sit up.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you okay?" Caleb asks in a trembling voice. His face is haggard.<br/>
<br/>
"I think so. But— Jesus, did you <i>hit</i> me?"<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "You've been passed out for ... God, I dunno. A quarter of an hour? Are you sure you're okay?"<br/>
<br/>
You grunt and stretch. The numbness is rapidly fading, but you are still stiff. You look down, and are surprised to see that you are back in your pants. "What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb swallows. "I put the mask on you, and it just kind of disappeared. Like it sank down into your face or something."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!"<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "Scared the shit outta me. Your eyes were open and you were breathing, but it was like you were totally comatose. I tried shaking you, but you just laid there." He licks his lips. "So I started dressing you up again, in case I needed to call the paramedics."<br/>
<br/>
"Is the mask still inside me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I went to get your socks, and when I looked up it was back on your face. So I pulled it off. You were still out, so I slapped you. That's when you came around."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit!" You stand and stretch, shaking off the last of the stiffness. "Gimme my shirt, will ya? Where'd you put the mask?" <br/>
<br/>
"On the table. Jesus, I don't want to go through that again."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it wasn't that bad on my end. It felt like something was grabbing my face, and the next thing I knew was back here." <br/>
<br/>
You look down at the mask. The basement is dim, but even in the gloom you can see it glowing with an uncanny light. But there is something more to it now: as you peer closer, you see that it holds a faint, silvery image. You take it over to the window.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe the whole 'passing out' thing is part of the magic," Caleb says, and sounding a little more confident. "You know, to keep the victim from struggling, or something like that."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, but your attention is on the mask. There is a silvery face reflected in its surface. As you turn the mask this way and that, you can glimpse the sides and top of a head, and even part of a shoulder and chest. The likeness is hard to make out, but you don't need to recognize it to guess what it is.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, it's <i>you</i>," Caleb says in a whisper over your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course," you say. And now that you see it, a mix of feelings—of relief and terror and wonder—pass through you. "Who else's would it be?" There's a slight giggle of hysteria in your voice. <br/>
<br/>
"Come on," Caleb says. "Let's get out where there's some fresh air." He grabs the book and hustles you out. <br/>
<br/>
Under the bright, noonday sun you sit on the grass and study the book, which has acquired a faint spot that covers most of the last open page. You lay the mask onto this spot, and the page now turns. You and Caleb crowd together as you look over the newly revealed pages.<br/>
<br/>
The reverse appears to contain a continuation of the spell that describes how to make the mask. This makes you nervous; why is the book hiding information from you? The next page, meanwhile, seems to outline a new spell. The nearby community center has a WiFi hotspot, and Caleb has his laptop, so over the course of the next hour you are able to puzzle out the new information. <br/>
<br/>
It turns out the reverse of the earlier page only gives some additional information on how to use the spell, revealing that a mask will continue to "absorb" new body images each time you lay it upon a face, and the new faces will be melded with the old ones, thus creating new faces. ("So that's if you want a disguise without looking like someone else in particular," Caleb suggests.) <br/>
<br/>
To make the mask work as a proper disguise, though, you have to "seal" it. That's the subject of the next spell. You have all the ingredients on hand for it, and about thirty minutes later you've covered the inside of the mask with a thin, translucent paint; and you've also turned another page in the book. But the follow-up spell looks a lot more complicated, and you can't really figure out what it's supposed to do. <br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb end up staring at the mask you've finished together. Neither of you say anything for a minute. Then Caleb speaks for you both: "Well, it's ready to go. Shouldn't we try it out?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod curtly and start to take it from him, but he resists. "Maybe I should try it out. I mean," he stammers, "it wouldn't make much sense for someone to disguise himself <i>as</i> himself."<br/>
<br/>
He's got a point. At the same time, your heart start races, for he's basically proposing to use the mask to turn himself into you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Back in the basement, he takes off his clothes and lies back on the same table you'd lain upon. He gives you a quick thumbs up, then gently lowers the mask to his face. It instantly vanishes, as though it has sunk into his skull. Despite what he'd told you of when you put the mask on, you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
For an instant you are uncertain who you are looking at: It's Caleb, but it's also someone else. Then with a shock you recognize it as yourself laying there: Lank and undermuscled, with a fading summertime tan from the torso up and the knees down. The thick thatch of straw-like hair sticking out at weird angles and the long single hairs on the chin and upper lip and cheek bone. Knobby knees and elbows. <br/>
<br/>
You are vastly reluctant to touch him, but the sight of him lolling unconsciously, with head rolling and mouth hanging open, is too much. "Hey," you say, and shake him. "Hey!"<br/>
<br/>
"Unh," he says, and his lids flutter open. He stares up dully at you, then blinks sharply into focus. He looks left and right out of the corners of his eyes, and slowly sits up. <br/>
<br/>
And once he's up it's even worse, for the resemblance is subtly but horribly wrong. You stomach twists.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, what's wrong," he asks. "What happened?" Gingerly he touches his face. <i>That loathsome face.</i><br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," you croak. "You look almost right, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"But what?" The person who is not quite your twin pales.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on," you say, and pinch rather than tug him to his feet. You lead him over to a floor-length mirror that must have once stood in the gym. Caleb regards himself with wonder.<br/>
<br/>
"Holy shit," he murmurs, and rubs his cheek. "It's you. <i>I'm</i> you. But you're right, it's not exact." Puzzlement and fear wrestle for control of  his face. "Maybe you didn't polish it up right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I did." You lean in, looking over his shoulder. He glances at you in the mirror, and freezes. His eyes dart between his reflection and yours. Then he bursts out laughing. "What?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He is laughing so hard he bends double. "Oh fuck, you're such an idiot! We look exactly alike, you moron!"<br/>
<br/>
"But you said yourself—"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I was looking in a <i>mirror,</i> you maroon!" he shouts. "I'm used to looking at you straight on, not in a fucking mirror. And you're used to looking at yourself in a mirror, not straight on. <i>That's</i> why everything looked off. Here!" <br/>
<br/>
He pulls you back over to the mirror, to point at your twin reflections. "See, they're exactly the same!" And now that you look, yes, his reflection and yours are indeed a perfect match. <br/>
<br/>
His eyes dance with amusement as he runs his hands over his transformed arms and studies his fingers. "No one could ever tell the difference between us!" He runs them slowly down his chest and his stomach and his hips and—<br/>
<br/>
"Stop that," you snap. "Don't play with that. It's not yours."<br/>
<br/>
"It is now," he retorts. "Or, at least, this copy of it is." But he does stop flipping it around. Instead he puts his hand to his throat. "Is my voice the same as yours? It sounds different to me."<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't sound like mine."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but we don't know what we sound like. Does it sound like my old voice?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. That seems like it would be everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Have you got my memories?"<br/>
<br/>
He frowns thoughtfully. "I don't think so. Must only copy the physical body and not the mind. But that's good enough for a start, I guess." His eyes glint. "Gimme your clothes."<br/>
<br/>
"What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"So I can go back your house as you, you dope! If I can fool your family—"</span></div></div>


path: 111211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Two of You
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Your clothes, dude," Caleb says impatiently. "Hurry it up, I'm cold."<br/>
<br/>
He has your face and body. He might as well have your clothes. Your fingers go the hem of your shirt—<br/>
<br/>
Abruptly, you snap out of it. "What the hell are you planning?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I wanna see if I can fool your family with this thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would you wanna do that?" Even you can hear the squeak in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you, paranoid? It's just a quick trip to test it out. I won't get you in any trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"Nnh. I dunno, this is getting into kind of a creepy area. How about you take that thing off now?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, here's what we do," he says, warming to an idea. "I'll go back to your place. If I don't set off any alarms, I'll come back here with a sleeping bag for you. You can spend the night here, and I'll spend the night at your house. I'll even call my mom, and tell her I'm staying at your place. Which I will be, kind of," he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"So what am I gonna do here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Finish off the other mask. Then we'll use <i>it</i> on <i>me.</i> On Monday we'll go to school as each other. That'll be awesome!" His eyes dance excitedly.<br/>
<br/>
"You're really getting into this, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. That's the whole point of a thing like this, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
Something about his plan bothers you. "I thought you wanted to use the other mask on Jeremy or someone like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah," he admits. "But I can't just disappear, you know. Someone has to pretend to be me while I'm pretending to be you. And here's the thing," he hurriedly adds. "If you're pretending to be me, then you ask around about Lisa without people thinking it's <i>you</i> asking about her."<br/>
<br/>
"You said there's nothing to find out. And anyway—"<br/>
<br/>
You stammer to a halt as he grins. You don't like the grin. You hope that's not the kind of grin that <i>you</i> turn on people.<br/>
<br/>
The thing is, though you hate to admit it, it's a good plan he's got: a safe way to test out the masks and what you can do with them. But you still feel like you're getting the short end of the bargain.<br/>
<br/>
You thrust a finger into his face. "If you're going to pretend to be me, you have to do my homework."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," he says cheerfully.<br/>
<br/>
"You can't fuck it up, either!"<br/>
<br/>
"I won't. If I can do your handwriting."<br/>
<br/>
"And you have to polish your own goddamn mask. I finished <i>mine!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," he sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"And you have to bring me out my laptop and some DVDs. No horror movies." You glance around. "It's going to be spooky enough down here."<br/>
<br/>
"'Spooky'?" he laughs. "Ooh, maybe I can bring you down a Great Dane and you can solve some mysteries. But sure, I'll bring your shit out."<br/>
<br/>
And with that you acquiesce and start disrobing.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a very long time before he returns with the supplies, and you fill the time first by finding an electrical outlet and then by shivering on the floor. "Yo, <i>me,</i>" Caleb chortles when he comes back down with his arms full. "Here's a wad of stuff for your campout." He drops a big, soft bag onto the floor, and sets the case for your laptop on the desk. "Everything seems okay so far. But who's the Chinese chick at your place?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Chinese chick? Oh, fuck!</i> You forgot that Umeko would be over there to practice with your mother. "That's my cousin!"<br/>
<br/>
He looks amused. "Your cousin is Chinese? Damn, there's a lot about your family you should tell me before—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, here's one thing. If you call her 'Chinese' to her face she will kill you no matter what you look like. She's Japanese. In fact, give me—" You grab at his shirt, and there's a struggle before he pulls away. "If you fuck things up with her for me—!"<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the story?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, she's my cousin. She was an orphan, and my Uncle Scott and Aunt Mary adopted her when she was a baby. Her name is Umeko. Memorize it, asshole! U-M-E-K-O!"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright! What's so important about her that you're getting so pissed off?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I like her, that's what's important about her."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, so you like— Wait." A devilish grin spreads across his face. "Do you like her, do you <i>like</i> her?" He waggles his eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself crimsoning, and that's all the warning Caleb needs to dodge you again when you grab for his throat. "She's really cool, okay? I like hanging out with her, so don't do anything to piss her off!"<br/>
<br/>
"You keep saying that, and I won't— Hey, you want me to set something up with her? I can be Mr. Smooth, and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>God</i>! No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'll hide in your bedroom until she goes away."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't do that either!"<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you want, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gimme my fucking clothes back so I can—"<br/>
<br/>
Again, he dodges you, and runs up the stairs. "Too late, your understudy's escaped," he laughs from outside. <br/>
<br/>
He dashes off, and with a roar you slam the door shut on yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At least Caleb brought you a well-thought out care pack. Besides the sleeping bag and computer, he also brought you some supper—cold chicken, beans, some pickles, and a couple of rolls—and pajama bottoms. There are also DVDs to watch. But you're not keen to start them up immediately. Isn't there anything else to do?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hmm.</i> You eyeball what's left of the supply pile. It looks like you have enough for one more mask—<br/>
<br/>
Except you've run out of ice. Unless ... <br/>
<br/>
There's an ice machine on the other side of the school, next to the old cafeteria, which is still used as a community center.  There's even a couple of Coke machines.<br/>
<br/>
But all you've got are your pajama bottoms. Cocksucker Caleb took his own clothes with him.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, fuck it.</i> You've seen people running around in less than these.<br/>
<br/>
You roll up the legs of your PJs so it looks like you're wearing baggy shorts, and creep out of the basement. The sun has gone behind a cloud and a cool breeze has sprung up, so you shiver both from cold and from nerves. But there is no one in sight, and on bare feet you scamper and hop your way over grass and a blacktop to the corner of the cafeteria where the ice machine is.<br/>
<br/>
It costs money to get ice out of it, but you pay inside and it works on the honor system, so the doors to the giant cooler are unlocked. Still, you feel guilty stealing, so you don't lift an entire bag, but just rip a bag open and take out a few small blocks. You shut the door and turn around and—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> Up the street, so close you can recognize them and they can recognize you, are two of your brother's middle school friends, sitting on their bikes and staring straight at you.<br/>
<br/>
You stare back for maybe three seconds, then turn away. <i>Christ, what should you do?</i> Well, you can't go back to the basement, lest they follow you. But you've no place else to go. So you walk in the opposite direction, turning your back on them and walking quickly toward the corner of the school opposite the basement. It's a long trek, then you hang a left to cross an even greater distance along the length of the school. You take that part at a run, and fight the urge to look over you shoulder at any pursuit. You finally hop around the last corner and hustle to the basement door. You scramble down the steps, toss the ice away, and slam the door shut behind you.<br/>
<br/>
But what if they followed you? What if they snoop around, trying to figure out where you've gone?<br/>
<br/>
There's lots of places to hide, luckily, what with all the furniture and bookshelves. You hurl your wadded-up sleeping bag over a standalone bookcase into a hidden corner, and shove your laptop into a drawer. But there's no time to move the fans or the other equipment. You scramble over desks—banging your toes—and drop down into a hidden crevice. There you wait, trying to control your breathing.<br/>
<br/>
Voices outside, whose words you can't make out. Then—<i>Oh God!</i> The basement door opens.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa! Lookit this!"<br/>
<br/>
"We shouldn't be in here."<br/>
<br/>
"Robert's brother shouldn't be in here. D'you think he is?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where else could he be. But come on, this is—"<br/>
<br/>
"This is cool, that's what this is. I bet he hasn't got permission to be here."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't see him."<br/>
<br/>
Giggles. "He's hiding!"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Maybe he isn't."<br/>
<br/>
"No, he is. Lookit, it's all messed up in here. Lookit all this crap."<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't any of our business."<br/>
<br/>
"No, but it's fun." Footsteps crunch. "He's hiding back in here somewhere. If we catch him—"<br/>
<br/>
"If he catches <i>us</i>—"<br/>
<br/>
Snickers. "Hey, let's go get Robert, bring him back here."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, as long as we get out of here before—" The rest of what is said is lost in a scramble of feet. The door slams again.<br/>
<br/>
<i>God damn it!</i> You don't have your phone, so you've no way to call Caleb. And what will they think if they find "you" back at the house?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, that might stop them.</i> Or it might provoke them into coming back here and making a bigger search for you.<br/>
<br/>
You make another fast circuit, cleaning up. You hide all the rest of the supplies and equipment inside desks, and fix yourself up a better and more comfortable hiding place in a far back corner, where it will be hard for them to search. If you make it look like the mysterious occupant has left, maybe they'll leave too.<br/>
<br/>
Except they'll have seen the lock, and if they come back they'll see that it is still open.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111
author_id: seuzz
title: Where There's a Will
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wait awhile, and there is no sign of a search party returning, so you break out of your hiding place long enough to move your sleeping bag into your cubbyhole and crawl into it. Much more time passes, and all remains quiet. Tension drains away slowly, to be replaced by boredom.<br/>
<br/>
The light outside has grown dim when you hear the door open. A soft voice: "Will?" You say nothing. "Will, are you here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Back— Hang on. Ow!" You bash your foot again as you try to squeeze around the highest wall of your improvised fort. A face like yours watches boggle-eyed as you emerge. "What happened? Some of Robert's friends—"<br/>
<br/>
"So I heard! What the <i>fuck</i> were you doing outside?"<br/>
<br/>
"I went to get some ice! I thought I could make some more masks!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you got spotted—"<br/>
<br/>
"No shit! They chased me in here, I barely missed being found! What happened at the house?"<br/>
<br/>
"A fucking farce! So I'm in the living room talking to that cousin of yours— Oh, and I think she likes me, we're really hitting it off— Okay, okay, I'll tell you later. Anyway, we're talking, and then these two dipshit kids come piling in, breathing hard and laughing, and they take one look at me and one of them yelps. And the other one's, like, Didn't we see you over at the elementary school just now? And I look at 'em and for a moment I think I'm gonna shit myself, 'cos why would they say that except they spotted you. But I only say, Noooo, and then he says, But we saw you getting ice and you were half naked and you looked right at us! And I look at them and then I look at your cousin, and she laughs, and I say, No I've been here all this time. Which isn't exactly true, since I did come back out to— Shit, where's your stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"I hid it after they went. But what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"So, they were all, But we saw you, and I was, Pfft, no! You saw someone else, and they got freaked and went to find your brother. And Umeko was, Who are they, and I said, Eh, friends of my brother— Hey, I'm real proud of that, I didn't say 'Friends of Will's brother.' And then them and Robert came out and they looked at me funny for a minute and went away."<br/>
<br/>
"Are they still there?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, they left. I waited until Umeko left too, and then I came over here." He frowns and looks at the door. "Crap, I hope they're not hiding out there watching."<br/>
<br/>
"You should lock me in in case they come back."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not locking you in. That's a bad idea."<br/>
<br/>
"But what if they come back?"<br/>
<br/>
"And what if there's a fire? Just go back and hide wherever you were. You're okay, and I gotta get back."<br/>
<br/>
"How are you doing with everyone?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're fine. I haven't talked to them much. Only to Umeko. She's really cool."<br/>
<br/>
"So you said. You weren't coming on to her, were you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want me to?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Anyway, she's gone, right?" You hug yourself nervously. "Just don't fuck things up with my parents."<br/>
<br/>
"You're so worried. Me, I can't wait to see how I do. This is so cool. We're gonna eat in fifteen minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God," you moan.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I won't make any trouble for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, don't set any impossible standards for me, either! If my dad thinks I've become civilized or something, it'll <i>really</i> be hard when I go back."<br/>
<br/>
"Want me to throw the mashed potatoes at your brother?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just shut up and go home."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It is rapidly growing dark, so it is too late to make another mask, even if you got more ice. You find another electrical outlet near your "nest," so you leave your sleeping bag there and move your laptop to join it. You settle in for the evening with some movies before going to sleep.<br/>
<br/>
You wake early—too early for Caleb to be up, certainly—and kill the morning by breaking down camp and rearranging furniture: It's either exercise for warmth or huddle in your sleeping bag. You create a little hidden tunnel back to that hiding place and rearrange the supplies. The WiFi hotspot is back on, and you get on the internet, and when that palls you rewatch one of the movies from last night. It's not until ten-thirty, and you're wondering what happened to Caleb, that you remember that today is Sunday and your parents will be dragging him to church. You settle in to be bored until twelve-thirty or one o'clock at least.<br/>
<br/>
Luckily you fall asleep again for a little while, or else you'd probably go crazy from boredom, for it's almost two o'clock before there's a soft knock at the door, and it scrapes open. "Will! You down here?"<br/>
<br/>
"D'you think I'd go out again after what happened yesterday?" you call as you scramble back out. "Where the fuck have you been?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I got back as fast as I could. We went to church and then your dad took us all out to eat with your aunt and uncle and cousin. She had that duet in church with your mom today, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, I know. Can we just get you changed back? I'm sick of being cooped up in here."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but you know, I got you set up on a date with Umeko."<br/>
<br/>
You freeze. "You <i>what?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! Well, not a 'date' date, I don't guess. But a coffee date. You're supposed to meet her at The Crystal Cave at five." He puts his hand under your chin and tries to shut your gaping mouth. <br/>
<br/>
Even when you find your voice you can only sputter: "I didn't ask you to—! It's not your business to—! You were just supposed to go to my house and not get caught or make problems!"<br/>
<br/>
"Did I make a problem?" he asks. "You're not two-timing your cousin, are you? Or two-timing someone by—" He jumps away. "What's the deal, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
The "deal," of course, is that he's got you into something that sounds like it's <i>more</i> than just two relatives getting together, and you don't think you can handle that. Aside from the fact that Umeko still intimidates you a lot, there's the fact that she's your <i>cousin</i> (at least by adoption) and that's a whole weird area that you've tried to avoid while still enjoying her company.<br/>
<br/>
And then Caleb has to say it: "Do you want <i>me</i> to go on this date for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a <i>date!</i> It can't be! She's my <i>cousin!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"But you're not blood related, unless there's a whole <i>other</i> area to your family you haven't told me about. And if you're nervous about being with her, don't be. Just be yourself, like I was."<br/>
<br/>
"But you weren't being yourself, you were being me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Dude." He looks at you pityingly. "Based on what I'm seeing here, if I was being you with her, I'd've spilled food all over myself and got my arm stuck in a toilet. Just relax. So don't be 'yourself'. Be <i>me</i> being <i>you.</i>" He grins.<br/>
<br/>
You grab his face. "How do we get this thing off you?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have to look it up in the book. It's simple, actually, but it takes a little practice. There's a string of nonsense-sounding syllables you have to chant three times while gripping Caleb at the temple and pulling at his face. It knocks him on his ass for a few minutes, and it takes him a moment after he wakes to recover his wits and his strength, but otherwise his time inside the mask doesn't seem to have changed him. "Is there anything I need to know?" you ask as you dress. "My mom or dad say anything, ask me to do anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't think so," Caleb says. "Mostly it was just 'set the table', 'take out the garbage', 'don't talk with your mouth full'. Your mom tried talking to me at one point about something, but I told her I had to do some homework. Oh, I didn't, by the way. It kept coming out in my handwriting." And when you're both dressed and back to normal, he asks, "So, I got that other mask polished. You wanna finish it up so we can swap places at school tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"You finish it up if you want. I'm going home to see what the damage is."<br/>
<br/>
"There's no damage!" he calls, but you're already running up the stairs to the truck.<br/>
<br/>
He's right this far: If there is any damage, it isn't apparent when you arrive. Your dad's laying down for a nap and Robert is off in the neighborhood with his friends. Your mom is in the living room, doing needlepoint. Nervously, you land on the sofa opposite her with your phone. If someone would have noticed anything, and had anything to say about it, she would.<br/>
<br/>
And after a minute she does speak, and puts her finger exactly on what you were afraid of: "You sure hit it off with your cousin this weekend," she says mildly without looking at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" You swallow, and cough when you swallow down the wrong pipe. "That was fun at lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"Your aunt Mary even paid you a compliment when we were in the parking lot. She said you were looking very nice in your suit, and that you probably had lots of girls chasing you at school." Just the trace of a smile shows on her face.<br/>
<br/>
You stiffen all over, including, to your dismay, in your cock. You also blush.<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't heard you talk about seeing Lisa recently. How is she?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh fuck! Lisa!</i> You were going to call her to set up that movie date! Billion-to-one against Caleb having done that for you.<br/>
<br/>
"We were talking about seeing a movie today," you say. "In fact, I need to call her." You scamper upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
She sounds distracted when she answers, and you have to remind her about the idea of seeing a movie. But she's willing, and suggests a five-fifteen showing of a new art picture.<br/>
<br/>
But you're supposed to meet Umeko for coffee at five. You can't be in two places at once.<br/>
<br/>
Or can you?</span></div></div>


path: 11121112
author_id: rugal
title: Back Alley Meetings
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You realize that no, you can't. Oh, there's an obvious solution right in front of you of course but using Caleb to take your place with either Umeko or Lisa is like something out of a bad sitcom plot. You also know that, much like a bad sitcom plot, things will most assuredly not go as planned and while hijinks on television might be entertaining to watch you imagine they're much less entertaining to experience. There's also another complication as well and that's Lisa herself.<br/>
<br/>
You'd noted the seemingly distracted nature on the other end of the line. That means that she'd either already forgotten about the suggestion in the first place or had other stuff planned; not that the two possibilities are mutually exclusive of course. Beyond forgetting there's another curveball she'd throw your way in the form of her current boyfriend. You never liked Mansfield even before he'd swooped in and stolen Lisa from you.<br/>
<br/>
So it's looking more and more like you'll stick with the "date" with Umeko. Besides, protests to the contrary towards Caleb, you can't deny your crush and it's not like he isn't right on the blood relation thing. In fact you never saw much of her outside the occasional Christmas until your aunt and uncle moved to Saratoga Falls about six years back when your uncle left the Navy with an honorable discharge and decided to come back to his old stomping grounds.<br/>
<br/>
But what kind of excuse do you give to Lisa? Not like you can tell her that you're blowing her off to go on a not-a-date with your cousin... well, not exactly. That does give you a good enough idea.<br/>
<br/>
"Five-fifteen," you ask trying to put just the tiniest bit of concern in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"That's not good," she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, well, I was kinda hoping for later," you tell her. "See, there's going to be a family get together. Nothing big, just pizza at Balducci's, but it's with my aunt and uncle and my dad wants the whole family to come."<br/>
<br/>
"Including you?"<br/>
<br/>
"You've met my dad plenty so you know how he is," you groan. "When he says everyone he means everyone. We're supposed to be there around five."<br/>
<br/>
"Five? Hmm, well that's probably not going to work I guess," she says in a disappointed tone that you're unable to tell the sincerity of.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I'm sorry Lisa really," you faux-apologize. "I kinda thought you'd have later open but if not..."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's fine Will don't worry about it," she says with a small laugh. "We can get together some other time. We'll talk at school tomorrow or something. Seeya!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, uh, see you then," you reply as the line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
You sit there for a moment not sure how to process the conversation. On one hand you're crushed that your chance to spend time with Lisa is blown because Caleb had to go and make plans for you behind your back. But on the other, part of you feels relieved. If you were going to spend time with Lisa, you'd want to be spending time with her and not Lisa and Geoff.<br/>
<br/>
The best thing is not to dwell on it, you figure, so you instead work on getting yourself ready for your little get together.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
For all your preparation you wind up falling on the usual outfit: cargo shorts, t-shirt, ballcap. You've never been much for fashion and it's never made sense to you. You just wear what's comfortable.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko is different. She's come in something simple as well: a sleeveless white blouse and dark jeans plus some boots that add a couple of inches to her height. But the way she carries herself, with a bright confidence, makes it stand out more than usual. That confidence is the only bright spot however.<br/>
<br/>
For all that she's your cousin, you find yourself as intimidated by her presence as you do most other pretty girls. She compliments you on your suit from this morning and it's all you can do to bashfully mutter out a positive response. But that's the least of it. She then starts asking you about biochemistry and wanting to "pick up where you left off" earlier. Apparently Will Prescott had gotten it in his head to ask her about her major which led into science talk.<br/>
<br/>
Science talk is something that a Will Prescott might know a lot about but certainly not <i>the</i> Will Prescott and you make a mental note to re-enact the Simpsons' preferred method of child abuse on Caleb the next time you see him.<br/>
<br/>
You think the entire "date" is going terribly so you're not surprised when Umeko suggests that you maybe the two of you should leave. You are surprised, however, when she mentions going to a small club just off campus.<br/>
<br/>
"I think that environment might help loosen you up a bit," she tells you. "Besides, one of the few good local bands is playing there so I figure it would be cool to watch. You're fine with that?"<br/>
<br/>
Not having any experience with clubs but not wanting to separate from Umeko just yet you agree to head out with her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Unfortunately, the cramped and loud space separates you from your cousin fairly quickly. There's a stuffiness from the atmosphere that you find stifling and you try your best to make your way through the throng of people and towards a door that you push open and duck out of. You're in a small alleyway behind the building and you notice a dumpster not too far from the door. Still it's a nice, quiet place to regroup both from the atmosphere of the club and the events of the afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
It's in the middle of groaning and muttering to yourself that you notice the door you just came through open.<br/>
<br/>
"You're really going to do that now," calls out a male voice in a bit of frustration.<br/>
<br/>
"We've got like twenty minutes before this one finishes up and its our turn," replies a female voice. "We've been so busy getting crap set up that I haven't had a smoke all day."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine but if you're not back we're going up without you," the first voice states.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah yeah!"<br/>
<br/>
The owner of the second voice finally emerges out into the alleyway and it's a girl not too much shorter than you though much skinnier and with a mess of light lavender hair. She turns her head and takes a look at you. "Empty threats, they know I'm good," she says in a non-chalant manner as she takes a pack of cigarettes out of her bag. She pulls one out, lights it and takes a drag before noticing you're still looking in her direction.<br/>
<br/>
She stretches her hand with the pack in your general direction and it takes you a second to realize she's offering you one. You turn her down. "Oh, figured that's why you were back here," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"I kind of ended up out here on accident," you sheepishly admit. "I'm not really used to places like this so I was kind of overwhelmed."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I'm used to this place and it's still a stuffy hole in the wall," she replies. "So I feel you."<br/>
<br/>
"That and I just needed a little bit of time to myself," you add. "I've had kind of a stressful day."<br/>
<br/>
"Girl troubles or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of," you reply. "What would make you guess that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just figured really," she states as she continues taking another drag. "You've got kind of a boyish look. Girls like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Th-they do," you can only stutter out.<br/>
<br/>
"Well I do, anyway," she laugh, "and I've got the best taste I know so it's a bit of warranted projection on my part."<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself blushing at that but do your best to move past it. "It's not just... just that," you say. "It's also getting stuck in arrangements other people set up."<br/>
<br/>
"We're like peas in a pod then," the girl replies. "I was really hoping for a day off but Zoe had to go and book this gig at the last minute and didn't bother to tell anyone else until yesterday. Whole lot of schedule re-arranging."<br/>
<br/>
"Gig," you ask, "Oh, you're with one of the bands? That's cool! Uh, which one?"<br/>
<br/>
"Slow Fast Hazel, you've probably heard of us," she states with a bit of faux-arrogance. That earns only a shake of your head however. "Oh, well I am just crushed," she says in mock dejection.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry I just... this is actually the first concert I've really gone to. I don't get out to shows honestly."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm, well that's just no good then," the girl states. "You something of a homebody I take it? Well I'm going to have to give you a little bit of incentive to keep coming out and buying our demos and LPs."<br/>
<br/>
There's a few minutes spent making light conversation while she finishes her cigarette and you find that she's surprisingly easy to talk to. The door opens and a dark-haired girl pokes her head out. "Hey, the other guys are finishing up early. We gotta get ready like right now," she states towards the lavender-haired girl.<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh, yeah alright I'm coming Zoe," she says as she puts her cigarette out.<br/>
<br/>
She stops as she walks past you and looks at you. This is the first good look at her face that you've gotten and you're immediately drawn to her plump lips. "Hey, didn't catch your name," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, Will," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm K.C. Nice chilling with you, Will."<br/>
<br/>
With that she goes to re-enter the building but before that she surprises you by leaning in quickly and planting those pillowy lips right on your cheek. Immediately you turn into a crimson mess. "Said I'd give you an incentive," she grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Really," comes the other girl's, Zoe's, voice with a giggle.<br/>
<br/>
"It's been a while and he's kinda cute," she replies in an amused tone as the door closes behind her.<br/>
<br/>
You stand there for a minute or two trying to process what just happened. You really can't, you realize, and with a burning face and a heart ready to burst out of your chest you head back into the building yourself.</span></div></div>


path: 111211121
author_id: rugal
title: Songs About Flirts
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Back inside the club, the same stifling atmosphere hits you once more and you nearly bolt back towards the door you just came through. However, you decide to power through it because you're running more on emotion than brains. That girl, K.C., said she'd give you an incentive to stick around and that's one hell of an incentive. She's probably just messing with you of course but... well, you can still feel her lips pressed up against your cheek and you instantly feel goofy.<br/>
<br/>
You go back into the middle of the crowd trying to find Umeko but are as unsuccessful as you were before and you half wonder if she was just trying to stealthily ditch you after that disaster at the coffee shop. Getting separated in a packed club is a plausible excuse for losing touch after all.<br/>
<br/>
Giving up, you see the band start to come on stage. There's K.C. at the keyboards and the other girl, Zoe if you remember right, on bass. You don't recognize the drummer though with his facial piercings he stands out. You'd guess he was the guy K.C. was talking to as she was coming out back earlier. Picking up the guitar is someone you do recognize though only in the vaguest sense: Jelena Petrovic, a fellow Westside student. You don't really know her though you do share a lunch and you often see her with the likes of Fatima Zahedi and, your heart skips a beat, Andrea Varnsworth.<br/>
<br/>
"You all should know us but we're Slow Fast Hazel," states K.C. sardonically, "and if you don't know, now you know. This is False Impression."<br/>
<br/>
The music begins playing and you're not sure what to make of it. It's definitely not the type of music you listen to that's for sure. There are lots of synths, some distortion and it's all very droning. But as you listen you find yourself becoming somewhat entranced. That's mainly due to K.C. You're not sure what she's actually singing about but it's sung in an airy lilt that, with Jelena's own voice backing hers, sounds very pleasant to your ears. She's not outwardly energetic on stage but there's a confidence in the way that she does move as she hits keys and she seems to go from note to note with a feathery lightness.<br/>
<br/>
You can't explain why but you do find yourself drawn in and try to push your way up to the front and by the end of the first song you find yourself cheering loudly in spite of yourself. You continue to stare up at the stage just trying to figure out what it is that's captivating you. At one point during the third or fourth song you notice K.C. scan the crowd and for a brief second you think she looks in your direction and it causes yet another flutter in both your chest and stomach.<br/>
<br/>
You start to suspect why you're feeling like you are but just as quickly dismiss it as, obviously, it just makes no sense. So you continue to enjoy the show and it's in-between songs when you're snapped out of the trance you've been. You feel a tug on your shirt sleeve and a voice, barely audible, call out to you.<br/>
<br/>
"There you are," it comes in an adorable high pitch. "We're gonna get out of here once this set ends or else we're both gonna get in trouble, that okay?"<br/>
<br/>
You turn towards the voice's direction and, not surprised by its owner, simply give a curt acknowledgment. Though your attention is taken away when you find said owner clasping tightly to your arm.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"So they've got a new fan," Umeko teases as the pair of you head out into the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
"W-well it's not my style of music but," you reply nervously, "I don't know it was nice though."<br/>
<br/>
"So I take it you enjoyed it," she asks. "Way better than a coffee shop right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I guess so," you answer. "I guess it's good I'm not claustrophobic though. I felt really squeezed in inside of there."<br/>
<br/>
Umeko laughs lightly at that. "You get used to it," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Really," you ask. "Because that's not what..."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, so you actually did make it out," calls K.C. from behind the two of you. You at first think she's talking to you but realize that makes no sense. That means she's talking to... "Oh, hey uh, Will you said? You know Umeko?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah she's my... my cousin," you answer nervously.<br/>
<br/>
K.C. eyes you, then Umeko, then you once again and simply shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"But you guys know each other too," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"We've got a few classes together," Umeko states. "Plus parties and, well, gigs."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! So you're a college student," you ask K.C. "Your guitarist, she goes to my school, so I kind of thought you all were around the same age."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like twenty's that much older," K.C. says in a rather amused tone. "Sis is the one who stands out if anything."<br/>
<br/>
Sis? Is Jelena her sister or is that just some kind of nickname? You decide not to concern yourself with it however.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you friends with Yell or something," Umeko asks you.<br/>
<br/>
Again more confusion though it's easy to guess that one <i>is</i> actually a nickname for Jelena. "Uh, no, I've never really talked to her actually," you say as you shift nervously.<br/>
<br/>
"He was out back when I took a smoke break," K.C. adds. "Said he just sort of stumbled back there. Seems like a nice enough guy." With that she walks over and drapes an arm around your shoulder which causes you to tense up. "Kinda thinking about taking him back and giving him groupie privileges if you catch my drift," she states and gives you a wink.<br/>
<br/>
You feel your entire face catch fire.<br/>
<br/>
This causes both her and Umeko to snicker even more though it's Umeko who speaks. "Will, don't take it seriously. She's just messing with you," she states with a grin. "K.C., don't mess with Will."<br/>
<br/>
K.C. leans in a bit more and you notice a slight drop in her voice. "Maybe I wanna mess with him. You wouldn't have a problem with that, would you Umeko," she asks in as seductive a tone as she can manage before pulling away with a laugh when she notices Umeko make a face. "I'm just kidding. Besides, you do the same thing to Yell."<br/>
<br/>
"K.C.," Umeko exclaims and quickly jerks her head in your direction.<br/>
<br/>
"What, you mean he doesn't...." K.C. starts before quickly zipping up. "Oh, well he should. You probably need to."<br/>
<br/>
"I actually need to get going," Umeko replies, "otherwise my parents are gonna be real upset. Will too, his are even stricter."<br/>
<br/>
"That sucks," comes the disappointed reply. "We haven't had a post-gig hang out in a while. But I guess I better get back to. Kurt can be such a prissy bitch when I skip out on loading up the equipment."<br/>
<br/>
With that she bids farewell to Umeko but it's almost a repeat of the alley as she comes up to you and gives you another quick peck on the cheek. "Another incentive to keep you coming back hopefully," she grins before heading back into the venue.<br/>
<br/>
You're going to say something but Umeko waves it off. "She's just flirty. <i>Really flirty</i>. Don't give it too much thought," she replies. You've noticed a bit of a souring in her mood and though you're curious you decide it's best not to press the issue as you yourselves exchange farewells.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
But try as you might to follow Umeko's advice, you can't help but give what happened too much thought which leaves you feeling a bit spacey during school the next day.<br/>
<br/>
At lunch you relay your story to Caleb--and make sure to emphasize just how much you enjoyed trying to talk biochem with your cousin--and Keith. Caleb, of course, doesn't believe you because, as he says, he knows you. Well he believes the part where you were a stuttering and muttering mess with Umeko. Keith doesn't because you know he doesn't want to know you're getting any action, or even close to getting it, before him.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't pay much attention to the rest of the conversation because you're busy playing lookout for somebody else. That somebody else you find when you see Jelena get up from the table she's sitting at with her friends to toss some food and trash.<br/>
<br/>
You can't get K.C. out of your mind despite Umeko dismissing it as simply a quirk of her "flirty" personality. You very much want to know more about her or at least make sure you know when her band is playing so you can make it to more of their shows. Obviously if anyone can help you with that then it's Jelena.<br/>
<br/>
The problem is that saying you've spoken ten words to her throughout high school would be an exaggeration. She doesn't know you in the least and as well gives off something of a cool aura that feels intimidating. She'd be your best source of information but at the same time you can't help but think of how potentially disastrous approaching her could end up and start down the road of dissuading yourself entirely.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111211
author_id: rugal
title: Mutually Beneficial
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Despite the logic your brains keeps trying to employ your hormones are, at the moment, the strong force. You push away any thoughts of just letting her go and make the decision to try and introduce yourself. "Hey, I'll be back in a minute," you say to your friends as you stand up.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? What do you have to do that's so urgent," Caleb challenges.<br/>
<br/>
"I just remembered something, okay," you reply as you head off in Jelena's direction.<br/>
<br/>
Thankfully the cafeteria isn't as crowded as the place you were at last night so it's easy to get through. A part of you does muse, however, on the possibility that having to fight your way through a throng of people there has made  you better at navigating a system like this. Despite whether or not there's any reality to that belief, you do manage to catch up to Jelena before she can get back to her friends. You call out to her and she takes a moment to acknowledge your presence.<br/>
<br/>
"Hello yourself," she replies coolly and in a tone that makes it more of a question than a greeting. The way she looks at you only reinforces that.<br/>
<br/>
"I, um, was at the show last night," you say nervously trying to break the ice. "I didn't know you were in a band or anything but I just wanted to tell you that you guys are pretty good."<br/>
<br/>
This causes a slight drop in her guard. "Well thanks, I suppose," she replies. "So is that it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, well I talked to one of your bandmates last night. K.C.," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
Jelena's expression becomes more inquisitive at that. "You talked to... oh," she says with realization. "She said Umeko was there with her cousin who's a guy who goes here."<br/>
<br/>
"You know Umeko too," you ask before realizing that's a dumb question. "Well yeah, if she knows K.C. then she probably knows the rest of the band. But yeah, that's me. I'm Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes I figured that; and you know my name already as well," she says. Her expression softens considerably though the inquisitiveness of it remains. "So I'm guessing you didn't just come to tell me you're a fan. No, you probably came..."<br/>
<br/>
She trails off for a moment and the inquisitive expression changes to one reflecting amusement. "I get it," she finally says.<br/>
<br/>
"Get what," you ask in confusion.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll just tell my friends I have to step out for a little bit," she answers without really answering.<br/>
<br/>
"What, what are you even talking about," you cry out though it falls on deaf ears as she's quickly off and back to her friends. You watch her talk with them for a minute or two before she comes back towards you and past you, grabbing your arm in one smooth motion. Not really sure what her train of thought is, you're able to do little more than follow behind her and out of the cafeteria.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Eventually you stop at an outside walkway near the cafeteria that isn't quite as traversed as the indoor hallways. "Alright so what even is going on," you ask once Jelena finally lets go of you.<br/>
<br/>
"You want to know about K.C. don't you," she asks bluntly.<br/>
<br/>
"I... what," you reply and then try poorly to play it off. "N-no! I just... I really only wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed the show! Honest!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're very transparent, you know that," she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You let out a defeated sigh. As usual you're making an ass of yourself. "So how'd you know my name," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Bad short term memory I take it," she replies and that slightly mischievous smile returns. "I told you, K.C. told me about running into Umeko and her cousin, Will. It wasn't hard to figure out who you were from there. So, because your short term memory is so bad, let's start again. You want to know about K.C., right?"<br/>
<br/>
You groan and slump back against a wall. You feel like both a tool and a dork. "She kissed me on the cheek! Twice," you suddenly blurt out managing to surprise yourself. "I've been feeling like crap because of issues with my... my <i>ex</i>-girlfriend so that made me feel... I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
You push yourself up from the wall and begin pacing nervously. "Then I saw you guys playing and I don't know anything about any of that music or any music around here but I got sucked in all the same," you state almost breathlessly. "And the whole time I just kept, like, staring at her n-not trying to be a creep but just... she was so confident. I thought she was really cool."<br/>
<br/>
"K.C. is pretty cool, yes," Jelena states.<br/>
<br/>
"So why did she..." you find yourself pausing, "Umeko said she's flirty and that I shouldn't think anything of it."<br/>
<br/>
"K.C. is also flirty," she says. "But it's up to you to decide what you want that to mean."<br/>
<br/>
"What I want it to mean," you ask and then shake your head. "N-n-n-no! I-I don't mean like that! I'm just confused and all!"<br/>
<br/>
Jelena chuckles lightly at that. "Will, it's fine. Do you think I'd be upset if someone had a crush on my sister," she asks. That's one mystery solved you suppose.<br/>
<br/>
"But I don't..." you begin protesting.<br/>
<br/>
Jelena, however, cuts you off. "You do. It's written all over you," she states.<br/>
<br/>
You grumble at that. "But it doesn't make any sense," you reply. "That was literally the first time I'd even seen her."<br/>
<br/>
"And," she asks, this time more rhetorically. "You've never seen or talked to someone and immediately been overcome by that feeling of butterflies flitting around in your stomach?"<br/>
<br/>
You remain silent at that.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me put you at ease and reveal something to you and you can decide to take it how you want," she says. "A month or so back we were playing a gig, one of the first since I'd officially joined the band, and afterwards this girl that my sister knew hung out with us for a bit. She was very petite but had a personality that made her seem larger than her stature. I sat in silence for most of the conversation because I was too smitten to say anything from the very moment I saw her."<br/>
<br/>
"You could have just said love at first sight," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"But love is something else, something much deeper," she says in return. "A crush is something like a caterpillar. It may turn into love or its existence may end in any number of ways before that can ever occur."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you get this deep with everyone?"<br/>
<br/>
Another light chuckle. "It's just how I am," she answers.<br/>
<br/>
"But I guess. what you say does make a certain amount of sense."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course it does," she replies. "Again, you wanted to know about K.C. right? I don't think I can tell you. You only get to know someone by spending time with them."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you saying," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What I'm saying," comes the reply, "is to come to our gigs. Make yourself a known entity. If we offer you to hang out with us, take us up on it. That way you can work out who she is, how she might feel, how you feel."<br/>
<br/>
"You... you don't even know me. You'd let me hang out with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"We might, it's always good to have people around," she states. "Though I'm going to admit there would be a self-interest angle on my part. Someone I would very much like to see more of myself."<br/>
<br/>
"Someone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Give it some thought. It should be obvious," she replies. "I'll let you ponder that for now. See you around."<br/>
<br/>
As Jelena walks back to the cafeteria you give it some thought and then it finally dawns on you: Umeko. She was talking about Umeko. Jelena Petrovic has a crush on your cousin.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
A name floats atop the runes carved into the metal strip: William Martin Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
As school let out, you had texted Caleb about wanting to check out the book so you met with him at the Clubhouse. There, you looked at the next spell and with some effort were able to translate it. The list of materials was definitely odd though, pooling your resources, it wasn't much hard to find or acquire. The pair of you set to work carving the needed runes and whatnot into the metal strip and, when done, pressed it to your head.<br/>
<br/>
You awoke to what you now hold in your hand. You press it to the book and the page turns and you get the English explanation on the back of the page: a band that copies the mind of the person whose name appears on it. The next page is easier to translate and requires use of some of the leftover material to form a paste that you use to affix the strip to the inside of the mask. Neither you nor Caleb need to the English version to know exactly what that means.<br/>
<br/>
That's when your struck by your conversation with Jelena at lunch. She has a crush on Umeko and has suggested you come around both so you can learn more about her sister and so she, in turn, can learn more about your cousin. But with what you now hold in your hand, even that wouldn't be necessary.<br/>
<br/>
No, instead you can talk to Jelena and try to sell her on this crazy idea of magic being real. If you can do that you can then try to sell her on the even crazier idea: use these masks and the knowledge they would contain to, essentially, swap bodies. You become Jelena for a few days, she becomes you. It would make things much easier and you'd each be helping the other out big time.<br/>
<br/>
But would she even buy it? Would she go with it? She might think you're crazy or a disgusting pervert. You also find the idea of being a girl, especially someone you've only just really met, a tad bit weird. As you go over it in your head you start to wonder if that actually is a good idea and if it's better to just do things the old fashioned way.</span></div></div>


path: 11121112112
author_id: rugal
title: The Perils of Pessimissm
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Once you arrive home you spend most of the rest of the afternoon and into the evening deliberating about what you should do. However your mind has always been your biggest hurdle and eventually you begin to convince yourself that going to Jelena about this would be a bad idea.<br/>
<br/>
The reasoning is very simple to start out: you don't really have any way to get in contact with her. She didn't give you a number or anything so you'd have no way to talk to her out of school beyond possibly hanging out with her band. Of course there's lunch but you don't think she'd want you bothering her when she's with her friends. Especially not for something like this. That then segues into a slightly more ridiculous but still worrying line of thought.<br/>
<br/>
What would she even think?<br/>
<br/>
If you went up to her, pulled her aside at lunch and told her that you had a magic book and wanted to use it to change bodies with her so you could hang out with her sister what would she really think about that? She'd probably think you were a lunatic and then word would get to her friends which would get around the school. It'd also get back to her sister. You could kiss goodbye any chance of ever hanging out with them as well as becoming the school pariah. Not even Caleb would want to hang out with you at that point, probably.<br/>
<br/>
So resigning yourself to not telling her you decide to just try hanging out normally. The problem though is that you also never got any date and place for her band's next show from Jelena. Thankfully that's a little easier to solve. If they're a band they've got to promote themselves which means social media. So you open your laptop and head to Facebook and after a minute of trying to remember the band's name you're able to find a date and place: Friday night at some bar or lounge or whatever interchangeable facility on Grant. <br/>
<br/>
But should you even go? You felt so uncomfortable at that club though this is going to be a different environment, probably. Maybe it'd be good to get out of your comfort zone too. But you don't know the clientele there. At the place you went last night it seemed to mostly be college students and you felt horrifically out of place. Would it be the same there? Even if you didn't, would K.C. and Jelena even want to hang out with you after the show? Maybe they were both just screwing with you.<br/>
<br/>
You don't mean to of course but before you know it you've mostly, and unintentionally, talked yourself out of going but still maybe not. It's a long time until Friday and any number of things could come up to sway you one way or the other. For now you decide to do some other unrelated browsing just to kill time, then do a bit of homework before turning in for the night.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"Hey, so what do you think I should do," you ask Caleb as you sit inside Walberg's classroom. The two of you are about the only people in here has you wait for others, including the teacher himself, to trickle in.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh," comes your friend's response as he looks up from a notebook.<br/>
<br/>
"Were you even listening," you whine.<br/>
<br/>
"I heard something about a girl, assumed it was a Lisa thing and just sort of zoned out," he replies. "Sorry but I can really only listen to your crying about her so much you know?"<br/>
<br/>
You groan at that. How is it he can be such a gentleman around your family and such a prick around you? "Look, just pay attention okay," you tell him. "You know what I talked to you about yesterday right? Jelena's sister and all that? Well I talked to Jelena yesterday, that's why I got up. She saw right through me but then invited me to hang out with her band after their next show."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, and? That's cool I'm really happy for you, sport," he says, "so what's the problem? You like her sister, you hang out with her sister, you get inside her sister's pants hopefully. What is she ugly or something and you're ashamed?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, asshole," you shoot back, "although she doesn't have big tits so you probably wouldn't care."<br/>
<br/>
"Preference," he says defensively. "They're a preference. Lack of tits doesn't stop me from imagining what Rachel Burton would be like."<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh, it's not about that! Stop sidetracking me," you complain. "I just want to know what you think I should do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I pretty much implied what I think just now. Do whatever you want," he says waving you off.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't think I'm setting myself up for disappointment," you ask. "Umeko and Jelena both said she's a flirt."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh you could one hundred percent be setting yourself up for disappointment," he states. "If your cousin--her friend--says she's a tease and her sister says she's a tease then she's probably a tease. But hey maybe there's a way around that."<br/>
<br/>
You give him a queer look.<br/>
<br/>
"Well I did such a good job being a better you than you could be on Sunday that maybe we should do it again," he asks. "We can swap off with each other after school and go through the rest of the week like that. I can go Friday and come Monday you'll be Mister Big Shot here because you've got a cool college girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck off," you dismiss him. "If Will Prescott goes out there on Friday then it's going to be Will Prescott, not Caleb Johansson. Besides we only have the one mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Two, actually. I finished the other yesterday," he tells you. He then answers your confused expression. "Turns out medieval wizards couldn't anticipate the modern car buffer. I got that done in maybe two hours at most and put it on. Couldn't make the band because that's at the school but still."<br/>
<br/>
"A car buffer," you ask. "But the spell said twenty-four hours."<br/>
<br/>
"Probably it means it needs to be buffed a certain number of times which is typically what you would get to after that time period, I don't know," he shrugs. "So we can stop by the school after we get out, get the band made and swap there."<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "I said no, okay? I don't need you fucking things up for me more than you already did," you say in irritation.<br/>
<br/>
"I fucked things up for you," he asks in shock. "No, <i>you</i> fucked things up for you. God you always do this shit. You have to be a little bitch about everything so you know what? I'm done with you for the day. Don't bother talking to me because I don't want to hear more of your bullshit pining over another girl you won't get."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
You assumed Caleb was full of shit but you're surprised when he seemingly follows through on his vow as he says nothing to you throughout Walberg's class.<br/>
<br/>
You try talking to Caleb again in English and at lunch but have no success there. You try texting him again after school lets out but get no response. At first you're feeling let down by the silent treatment but then find yourself getting irritated. He's going to throw that much of a fit over something minor? Why? Is he that desperate to want to hook up with your cousin or whatever the hell he was trying to do? Dwelling on it isn't helping as you're now pissed by the time you've made your way out of the parking lot and headed for home.<br/>
<br/>
But you get a lift when you get home. Your mother asks you what you're going to be doing after school tomorrow. You shrug and tell her you're not doing anything. She asks if you're doing anything with your friends.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's being a whiny child about not doing a swap, not that you'd tell her though, but he'll probably be over it by tomorrow. But then he might not; Caleb can get in these little pissy moods and not want to talk for a day or two. As for Keith, you haven't talked much with him at all as he's supposedly been concentrating on studying for a calculus test that Kowalski has planned for some time this week. You'd think that an excuse with any other teacher but Kowalski's notorious for his love of tests and pop quizzes so one this early isn't too far fetched.<br/>
<br/>
So you give her a negative response and tell her that you've got nothing going on. She tells you that's good because your cousin called her earlier asking if she could come over tomorrow to wash some clothes as her apartment's washing machine broke down. Your mother, of course, has no problem but wants to make sure someone's here just in case she's out. After the "date" you should feel hesitant but you never can when Umeko's involved so you agree to be home right after school.<br/>
<br/>
You practically float up the stairs and into your room and it's only after you've shut the door and your backpack down does something begin to formulate in your head. Inside the backpack, of course, is the book. You'd balked at involving Jelena and you're too nervous to just go out to a show on your own. But the book, Umeko and a few days could be what you're looking for. Not only could you hang out with K.C. more naturally but it'd give you a look into Umeko's mind as well allowing you to understand her too.<br/>
<br/>
But could you seriously do that? Would you be able to spend a few days impersonating your cousin?</span></div></div>


path: 111211121121
author_id: rugal
title: A Merging of Minds
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What?"<br/>
<br/>
The voice on the other end of the phone is not happy but then Caleb was not particularly happy with you today. The fact he's even answered your call, however, is a good sign as it means he's cooled off a fair bit from how hot he was earlier. You've decided to try your luck in attempting to swap with Umeko and to do that you'll need his help.<br/>
<br/>
"I need your help."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh you need help," comes the bitter reply, "but it's something only a qualified shrink can give you."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you too," you shoot back.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm still not talking to you," he says, "despite what it may seem like."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I'm sorry I didn't want to fuck around with the masks today," you apologize.<br/>
<br/>
"That's a little better."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't want you getting me into an unwinnable situation with K.C. like you did with Umeko," you add.<br/>
<br/>
"Wrong response, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"W-w-wait," you nearly shout. You're thankful that you're up in your room where nobody's going to really be able to hear or bother you. "Look, you weren't there alright but I seriously cannot get her out of my mind. I don't want to ruin my chances out of the gate so that's why I need your help."<br/>
<br/>
A grunt comes from the other line. "Thought you just said I'd ruin things for you," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you please take this seriously," you ask. "If I don't want to fuck up I need to know about her right? Like I need to know what to expect."<br/>
<br/>
"So get a mask of her sister or something," he replies in exasperation.<br/>
<br/>
"I ruled that out. Way too much hassle," you answer. "But Umeko's coming over tomorrow and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Your cousin," Caleb asks and you notice him perk up at that.<br/>
<br/>
"Right, she and K.C. share classes and they're friends," you explain, "so I figure I can become her and that'll give me time to hang around K.C. a bit and get a feel for her before Friday. Plus maybe I'll learn a bit about Umeko so I don't make an ass of myself around her in the future."<br/>
<br/>
"Well hot damn, Prescott, you should've said this earlier!"<br/>
<br/>
"You said you'd made a mask," you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"And used it on myself to made sure it worked," he answers, "but I think I've got just enough stuff for one more. I'd be cutting it real close."<br/>
<br/>
"Think you can swing by the clubhouse after school tomorrow and whip up a band as well," you ask. "I'd need it for Umeko."<br/>
<br/>
"You were kind of a jackass earlier but, you know, seeing you as a chick and as your cousin is gonna be a show," Caleb laughs. "So sure, whatever, hatchet buried. I'll see you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Most of the next day is spent in restless anticipation of what's to come. You're still able to concentrate on the things that do require your attention although just barely. At lunch you pass by Jelena, unintentionally this time, and tell her you found when her band is playing next and that you'll definitely be there. She gives you no other response but a sly smile as she goes to sit with her friends.<br/>
<br/>
As you leave lunch you pull Caleb aside and go over what to do making sure to inform him that you do not want your mind band on your mask. You don't want Umeko to surmise that you were plotting to do anything to her. You'll have her mind so you can either try and play it off as you being the actual Umeko and that "Will" seems to be acting odd or else try and play it off as something else happened that you, of course, had no part in. If it comes to that of course.<br/>
<br/>
You also tell him to text you regular updates.<br/>
<br/>
School lets out and you rush home as quick as you can. You already see Umeko's car in the driveway so you head inside excitedly though are disappointed when you don't see her. You plop your book bag down on the couch and then you yourself follow quickly. At that point Umeko emerges from the laundry room near the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
"Hope you don't mind," she says. "Aunt Martha was here but had to run out to do some shopping before you got back."<br/>
<br/>
You wave it off of course and try engaging in some minor talk that goes... not well, at least in your estimation. You find yourself still tongue tied around her, unsure of what to say. Still she seems amiable enough so maybe you're being too hard on yourself. After around twenty minutes she decides to go heck on her clothes and you check your phone expectantly as you hadn't had the chance earlier. You're surprised to see that Caleb texted you not too long ago and is on his way.<br/>
<br/>
"Crap, looks like it's gonna be a while. I might have to come back for that stuff tomorrow," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"That sucks," you offer sympathetically but waste no time in broaching the subject. "Hey, so, about K.C.--" you start before a knock at the door interrupts you. "That's probably Caleb. He was wanting to hang out today."<br/>
<br/>
You get up to answer it and let Caleb in. "Hey, mind if I grab something to drink real quick," he asks as he steps by Umeko and acknowledges her with a simple nod.<br/>
<br/>
As he enters the kitchen you turn back to Umeko. "Sorry about that, so yeah, about K.C. Uh, well the band in general, I was just wondering if you were going to their show on Friday," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah of course. I mean--"<br/>
<br/>
Umeko's words are cut off by a mask going over her face. Eventually, once that's done, a band is next. While you undress her, and god does it take all you have to not blow a load right there in your pants it comes out and Caleb is quick to attach it to the mask. Once everything is done you grab what's needed, make a mad dash to the bathroom and lock the door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
You awake with a start and look around with confusion at your environment. You're on the floor and... in a bathroom? With surprise at that realization you leap to your feet and it's then that you instinctively try covering up as you realize that you're naked. What's going on? You retrace your steps.<br/>
<br/>
You'd come over to do some laundry. Will was there and you'd exchanged some chit-chat with him because he'd wanted to ask you about K.C. You give a pause at that. K.C. Petrovic... yeah, he'd wanted to talk about her. He's obviously gone and gotten himself smitten with her and why wouldn't he? He's a young man and K.C.'s a pretty girl. She's vivacious and fun and cool and knows how to make someone feel special. That's why she's your friend of course.<br/>
<br/>
Well no, not <i>your</i> friend. Umeko's friend. Well, is she your friend? Either way it's when you were talking and that's when you blacked out and woke up here, in Will's bathroom. <br/>
<br/>
Your bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
Will's bathroom?<br/>
<br/>
Yes, your bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
It's your bathroom because you're Will Prescott... right? No, you're Umeko Prescott. Well you're wearing her body and her mind at least. But of course you are because they're yours. Just like these hands are yours and these breasts... oh god, these breasts! They're not big but you've fantasized about them so much which is odd because you've always had them right?<br/>
<br/>
God you don't know what to think and bits of dark hair fly just inside your field of view as you try to shake the cobwebs out. Whatever the case is you need to get dressed. You spot your clothes, Umeko's clothes, in a pile on the sink. You slip on the panties and bra, which is surprisingly or maybe unsurprisingly, easy to put on. There's the leggings, the short jean shorts and the loose fitting purple tee. Finally come the sneakers, a pair of matching purple Converses. It's a simple outfit but a nice one and now that you think of it you've noticed your cousin's tendency to wear a lot of purple.<br/>
<br/>
Well because it's your favorite color, duh! Something to match your name.<br/>
<br/>
You give yourself a once over in the mirror and take a good look at your face. It's wide and youthful with large, deep brown eyes. You've always liked those eyes as well as the bright smile; it was one of the first things you'd noticed about her.<br/>
<br/>
Dark hair hangs loosely around your head. It's not long and there's a somewhat boyish quality to it but you've always liked it like that. Although lately you've been thinking about changing it up, doing the whole chapatsu thing or something. A nice, dark chestnut would look good because you're not bold enough yet to try for something brighter.<br/>
<br/>
K.C. would probably like that. She liked the outfit you're wearing too the first time she saw it. You definitely want to keep making a good impression on her because after all... after all you like her.<br/>
<br/>
Well no shit you do. That's why you went through the trouble of becoming Umeko. Because you like her.<br/>
<br/>
You, Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
No, you, Umeko Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
Wait, what? Did you just... well of course you did because it's true. Umeko has, you have, a crush on K.C.? But that means... well of course that's what it means. She is... you are...<br/>
<br/>
Is that why your mind is so clouded right now? The passions of two people converging on one single point and jumbling together into a confusing ball of thought and emotions. Well that means, then, that you're Will Prescott and are simply getting overwhelmed by Umeko's thoughts right? Well no because you feel an awful lot like Umeko Prescott being overwhelmed by Will's. You can't tell where one of you ends and the other begins.<br/>
<br/>
And now you're hearing voices from outside the door, out in the living room. One of them most definitely belongs to Will Prescott which should mean that the switch went off fine. But then something could've screwed up too so maybe it didn't and that's why you think you're Will. Your head is really starting to hurt now and part of you wants to just get back to your apartment, Umeko's apartment, and figure it out from there.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe you should talk with... with your cousin because maybe that will help you get your bearings straight. Or maybe it'll make you more confused. Either one seems like a distinct possibility.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111211212
author_id: rugal
title: When Umeko Met Umeko
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're still undecided on what to do as you give yourself one last look over in the mirror to make sure everything is in place. You fret and fuss one more time over your clothes and your hair as you turn over in your mind what to do. Umeko Prescott is never this anal about her appearance but Umeko Prescott has never found herself in the middle of a bizarre identity crisis, nervous about what's to come. But you can delay no longer and so, steeling yourself, you step out of the bathroom, down the stairs and into the living room..<br/>
<br/>
You're not surprised by what you see: there's Will, or yourself maybe, and his friend sitting on the couch and loveseat respectively. An awkward silence hangs over them and the person wearing Will Prescott's face looks incredibly uncomfortable.<br/>
<br/>
There's still plenty of time, you think, to make a run for it. Make a show of checking on the clothes and just get out of Dodge and figure out what's going on in your head. Instead you take a deep breath and walk over to the two. "Hey, so is everything alright," you ask Will. "You're not looking too good."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes go wide as you talk but eventually their cast downwards. "Y-yeah, everything's... it's fine," he mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Glad to hear it," you reply chirpily before turning towards the other guy... Caleb. "Hey so sorry you and I aren't going to get to talk but I kinda want to pick up from where I left off with Will."<br/>
<br/>
"You want to what," he asks before realization sinks in. "Oh, I see," he says with his voice taking a slightly less more negative tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! Crap, sorry," you exclaim, "I'm not, like, trying to kick you out or anything. I mean this isn't even my place so I don't think I could."<br/>
<br/>
As fast as it darkened Caleb's tone brightens however. "No no, don't mind me," he says with a small grin as he looks in the direction of the apparent Will Prescott, "I'm not one to play third wheel here. I have stuff I need to get done at home anyway so, I don't know." He looks at you and then at your cousin but the grin stays in place. "Yeah, I'll call you later alright," he says as he gets up.<br/>
<br/>
For a second Will's face looks almost pleading but quickly falls back into the morose resigned expression it's worn since you entered the living room. "Yeah," he answers in a thoroughly dejected tone of voice, "I'll talk to you later I guess."<br/>
<br/>
Once Caleb is gone you take his position on the loveseat unsure of what to say to your cousin. However it's he, or maybe she, who breaks the ice.<br/>
<br/>
"W-what the f--" he starts but stops herself, "what's going on?!"<br/>
<br/>
"Going on," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?!<br/>
<br/>
"I'm..." you grumble and shift a bit. "I'm me. I'm Umeko Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"Ume--" he starts in shock. "Oh no, you are <i>not</i> Umeko Prescott. I don't know what kind of sick joke this is and how you're impersonating me but this is ending <i>now</i>!"<br/>
<br/>
"Impersonating? But I'm..." you trail off as confusion fills your head once more.<br/>
<br/>
You're not what? Not Umeko? No, you're Will Prescott. Will Prescott, you're... your goofy cousin. God, he is right? But that's not a bad thing. He makes you laugh and if he'd just harness that nervous goofiness he could turn it into a confident charm. That way he'd get himself a nice girlfriend and not pine over you. Not that you're blood related but it can still be weird; you didn't know him since both of you were in diapers but you've grown up together enough that he's family first.<br/>
<br/>
Besides even if that wasn't the case, he'd just be disappointed because...<br/>
<br/>
Why would you be disappointed? Well, yeah, because of <i>that</i>. Man your head is killing you and your cousin seems to notice this too because they're leaning forward and trying to hold you up.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey! Are you alright," comes the harried voice.<br/>
<br/>
"My... your," you try once more to shake the cobwebs out. "Will's room."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"So Will had the idea of copying Umeko for a while to try and get a feel on her," you explain as you're sprawled out on the bed that belongs to Will. "That's where things get blurry. Somehow some wires got crossed and the two of them are kind of both up here trying to figure out what's what."<br/>
<br/>
The Will-faced person is facing away from you as they think. "But if you know that much then it should be obvious right," they finally ask. "Because it would make no since if 'Umeko' started thinking of herself as Will."<br/>
<br/>
"I wish but it's not. I keep thinking I've got it cracked and then the Umeko feelings start up and come crashing back," you state. "There's a memory of Will's from when he put on Caleb's band thing, of getting lost for a minute in the identity of Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're saying the same thing is happening?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe," you reply and then, with a bit more uncertainty, add, "probably." You push yourself up to a sitting position. "I think there's multiple things at work here. Having an entire mind open to you is overwhelming and Umeko... there's a strong will there and a sense of fear. Like 'she' is desperate to hide something and is fighting with every bit of strength she can to push Will away and make sure he doesn't know."<br/>
<br/>
"But will does know, doesn't he," asks your cousin.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah but maybe not," you reply. "Because Will's mind isn't going away but I keep thinking, feeling, more and more like I'm Umeko with a copy of Will's brain alongside mind. But the Will feelings don't go away. Like they're combining into one."<br/>
<br/>
He fidgets some more before finally turning around sharply. "Do you know how to get these things off," he finally asks. You give it a second of thought but follow it up with a positive answer. "Good, because I'm telling you I'm Umeko inside a mask of Will and I want it off. Maybe seeing me will shock you back to normal," he states.<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate. You know what you'll see but a large part of you doesn't want to see it. But your cousin looks at you sternly and overcoming your trepidation you reach out and utter the words that the Will portion of your brain has memorized.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"We need to get you out of that thing,"<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting on your bed across from another Umeko. It's a shock to your senses but is not having as much of an effect on your psyche as the other Umeko hoped.<br/>
<br/>
"Out of," you ask and instinctively move back just a bit. "But that would..."<br/>
<br/>
"Fix you," she states firmly.<br/>
<br/>
"Fix me," you ask, this time with just a hint of incredulity in your voice. "Because you're the quote-unquote real Umeko?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's no quote-unquote about it, Will," she exclaims in frustration. "I know who I am."<br/>
<br/>
You shift uncomfortably. "But we're made up of our appearance and thoughts right," you ask. "Because I have it all up here too. Do you remember Kara Moran?"<br/>
<br/>
Umeko's eyes go wide at that. She does, of course, but so do you. You were twelve, she was the sixteen year old daughter of your parents' friends. There was a pool party at their place and you saw her in that yellow bikini and that's when... thoughts started creeping into your head. That segues into being fourteen and getting your first kiss when hanging out with a group of friends playing, of all things, spin the bottle. When Dylan Barrows kissed you there had been nothing for you. No it was next year, near the end of your freshman year at Agape.<br/>
<br/>
Becky Westen was a girl with a personality as cool as her icy blue eyes. She'd been your best friend and your closest confidant. You were talking about crushes and romance. You'd brought up the kiss with Dylan and the feeling you got when you saw Kara and didn't know what it meant. Becky did, though, and showed you when she'd suddenly pulled you in for a long and deep kiss.<br/>
<br/>
"I remember Becky too," you state. "All of the feelings associated with her are right here. K.C. has a similar personality and that's what draws you in."<br/>
<br/>
Umeko falls silent and gets a look on her face as if her guts are being pureed.<br/>
<br/>
"So why would that make me less the 'real' Umeko?"<br/>
<br/>
"You want it," she eventually asks after a long period of silence. "Until Sunday."<br/>
<br/>
"Do I want what," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"The life of Umeko Prescott," she replies quietly. "I'll give it to you until Sunday if my feelings are that strong on you. But," she pauses but comes back with more conviction. "But I have to go to the show in your place. I don't have one of those bands but I can do a few days of high school."<br/>
<br/>
"Why," you ask in shock.<br/>
<br/>
"One date," she replied. "I'll set you up with K.C. but... I want a date with her. A few days of my life so you can get everything sorted out in exchange for one date."<br/>
<br/>
You're utterly shocked but you shouldn't be. You know how she's thinking and you know what feelings, what strong feelings, washed over you when you thought about Becky and K.C. She'd wanted her life back and, much as it'd pain you with how you're thinking, you feel as if you should do exactly what Umeko wanted in the first place.<br/>
<br/>
But again you know how she feels. One date with K.C.... you certainly know how the thought is making you feel so why not acquiesce?</span></div></div>


path: 11121113
author_id: seuzz
title: Where There's a Will (Extended)
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Thanks to that mask you made yesterday, you don't have to cancel either the date you've just made with Lisa, or the date Caleb made with Umeko; and you're sure that Caleb would help out. He seems to really be getting into this.<br/>
<br/>
But even if "Will Prescott" shows up both places, only one of them will be <i>you.</i> <br/>
<br/>
So do you send Caleb off with Umeko while you keep things up with Lisa? Or do you run it the other way?</span></div></div>


path: 111211132
author_id: seuzz
title: A Life of Entrances and Exits
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"That sounds good," you tell Lisa. "Pick you up at four forty-five? Five o'clock?"<br/>
<br/>
"Geoff's picking me up," she says, and you grimace. "But we'll meet you at the theater."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Terrific.</i> You feverishly ponder the logistics as you call Caleb. If you were picking up Lisa, you'd need your truck, and Caleb would have to be the one to meet Umeko. But he can take his own car to the movie theater, and it wouldn't look funny with Umeko if you drove up in your own truck— "Caleb, dude, can you help me out?" <br/>
<br/>
"Why, what's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've got that date with Umeko, you know, but I just made another for the same time with Lisa. Can you cover for me on that one?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a long pause. "Wait. You want me to go on a date for you? With Lisa? <i>As you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Now that you've said it aloud, it does sound really presumptuous and burdensome.<br/>
<br/>
But he laughs, asthmatically. "So 'cos I did such a good job setting you up with your cousin, you want me to set  you up good with Lisa?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! <i>No!</i> I just need someone to cover for me with Lisa while I'm with Umeko."<br/>
<br/>
"So you don't want me to set up anything with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Just show up, show my face, so she doesn't think I'm, like, rolling over for Mansfield."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Okay. So if I have a chance to set you up with her later, just the two of you without Mansfield along, I shouldn't do it." There's a glee in his voice that you hate, and you imagine stretching an invisible arm across the miles to Force-choke him where he stands.<br/>
<br/>
"Just cover for me and don't fuck it up!"<br/>
<br/>
"Like yesterday with Umeko."<br/>
<br/>
"Gah!" You tell him where and when he's supposed to meet Lisa and Geoff, and hang up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a relatively cool day for mid-September, despite which Umeko is wearing a sleeveless white blouse with her dark jeans. She smiles widely and brightly at you as she gets out of her car. "You look comfortable," she says as she glances you up and down.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" You glance up and down your own frame. You're in your usual costume of cargo shorts, t-shirt, and white ball cap jammed down over unruly hair.<br/>
<br/>
She laughs. "I just mean you're out of your church clothes. You looked really nice in them today."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, don't I usually?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs as she opens the door. "Maybe I just noticed today. You seemed to wear them well." Her smile widens.<br/>
<br/>
A little sweat breaks out on the back of your head. "Mom told me that Aunt Mary said something like that," you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"She knows a good-looking guy when she sees one." That makes the back of your head break out in a rash.<br/>
<br/>
You order coffee and find a table in the back, and you rack your brains for something to say while setting up the sugar and the milk and all the other crap that goes into getting coffee ready. Umeko sucks on her plastic stirrer and leans back with a lazy, mischievous, meaningful smile. "So, where were we?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where were we what?"<br/>
<br/>
"At lunch, we were talking about biochem. I thought your dad was going to pass out from shock."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Biochem? Caleb, you cocksucker!</i> "Yeah, I kind of surprised myself," you stammer. "You know, I don't even remember how we got on that subject?"<br/>
<br/>
"You were asking me about my classes at the university. I told you what I wanted to study, and then we were off at the races. But you didn't tell me how <i>you</i> got so interested in it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Well, I'm not, not really. Meaning no offense—" You blush as she laughs. "I'd just been talking to my friend Caleb about it, and he told me some things, so I was just parroting them back."<br/>
<br/>
"You're pretty good as a parrot. You sure <i>sounded</i> like you knew what you were talking about."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks. So, um, what else are you taking?" You're desperate to get off that terrifying subject.<br/>
<br/>
Unfortunately most of the subjects she's taking are terrifying. Besides the chemistry, math, and other science classes for her preferred major, she's taking an English Lit class and a history class. You can't show off in them any more than you can show off in the sciences, and you're reduced to a lot of stammering questions about topics on which you've nothing to say. Umeko doesn't cool, exactly, as the time wears on, but she seems to grow a little puzzled, especially after she switches to asking you about your own recent studies and interests, which you can't answer without staring at your hands while twiddling your fingers. By the end, her smile has a gentle knowingness that you like a lot less than the mischief it showed at the start of the conversation. "Today was fun," she concludes, when you're walking back outside. "All of it."<br/>
<br/>
"It was fun for me too."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe a little too fun," she says, and doesn't explain what she means. "I'll see you next Sunday, at least."<br/>
<br/>
She drives off, but you sit in the parking lot with your forehead resting against the steering wheel for a very long time.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb calls you at around eight. "Yo, I'm at the clubhouse, you should come out so we can switch and have some <i>fun,</i>" he sings.<br/>
<br/>
He's got the second mask polished and sealed with his face in it when you get there. "So how was your date," he grins.<br/>
<br/>
"I was fucking lost! You were talking to her about biochemistry!"<br/>
<br/>
"We were talking about current findings on lipids. How lost could you be?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't even know what a lipid <i>is!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He pales, then laughs. "You're shitting me! I tried keeping it as basic as I could, since I knew you'd be— Alright, I'm sorry!" he says as you lunge at him. "Did you at least have a good time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Good enough, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Excellent. Because I set you up on another date with Lisa. Just the two of you."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. "How? When?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tuesday night, at the city library. It's a study date, I guess, but you'll be working on your papers for Walberg. And no <i>Mansfield</i> there to cramp your style, you sexy beast." He nudges you.<br/>
<br/>
"How did you swing that? He's been like fleas recently."<br/>
<br/>
"If he's fleas on Lisa, what does that make her?" he retorts. "But I did it by talking about your dad's work. Salopek, and everything you they do there, and how fascinating it is, and how you want to work there—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's <i>you,</i> not me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, how about that? You'd think I wanted a job there. Speaking of which, I'm gonna talk to your dad again tonight, since <i>you</i> won't." He jabs you in the chest with his finger.<br/>
<br/>
"I just keep forgetting. Anyway, I don't like bothering him."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you won't forget tonight. I'll see to that. Come on, get your clothes off."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You let him change first, back into your clothes and mask, since it seems like a good idea that one of you be awake during each change. Then it's your turn to lay out on the table. You drop the mask onto your face, and a sensation like warm, liquid gold spreads over your body and sinks into your limbs, your joints, you bones, your brain ...<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb. Hey, man. Caleb!" Someone is striking your cheek. "Come on, you chem-loving cocksucker," he calls. You open your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Stop that," you say, and slap away the kid with the tangled-up grin and scarecrow hair. "And stop calling me— Oh God, I guess I am now, aren't I?" <br/>
<br/>
You sit up. Your body doesn't feel that different when you move, or seem that different when you look down at it. Still skinny and bony. You hold out your arms and look at them. Less hair on the forearms, but what there is stands out more. The fingers are longer, as are the finger nails. You scratch at your head, and the short, tight curls feel like a rug that's been attached to your scalp. "If you don't want your mom to yell at you," says your friend, "you better get dressed and get home."<br/>
<br/>
The underwear is gross, but once it's on you forget it as you pull on jeans and the short-sleeve button-up shirt. Tennis shoes are last. The two of you take a joint look in the mirror before leaving. It wouldn't seem that strange—Will Prescott and Caleb Johansson staring into it—and it isn't, except that Prescott's reflection doesn't mimic your actions, and Johansson's reflection does. "See you tomorrow, <i>Caleb,</i>" your friend laughs. "Parking lot, so we can— Hey, write down your class schedule tonight so you can give it to me tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
You get into the remaining car, but sit for a moment after the truck has driven off. <i>Very strange sitting behind the wheel of this car.</i> You put on the dome light and take the wallet from your pocket. Caleb's shit-eating grin dominates the driver's license photo. You hold it up next to the rear-view mirror, and practice that grin until you can do it perfectly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yo, Caleb!"<br/>
<br/>
You turn—not quite instinctively—at the shout. Will, driving slowly through the parking lot, waves to you; you wince as he swings the wheel around and parks crookedly. You trot over to meet him. "I got a schedule for you," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Ditto, but we got a problem. My chem class."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit, that's right.</i> "And it's with The Nutcracker, too. Is it alright if I ditch?"<br/>
<br/>
"He takes attendance. And it's mostly lecture, so you might be okay in there."<br/>
<br/>
"But it would be worse if I fucked up, right?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs, and apparently leaves it up to you.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321
author_id: seuzz
title: A Day in Another's Shoes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You had Mr. Gelding—a.k.a. "The Nutcracker"— your freshman year, and you've no desire to sit in another of his classes, under your face or any other. Especially a class, like AP Chemistry, where he could really humiliate you if he wanted. Your friend doesn't argue when you demur on attending.<br/>
<br/>
The two of you have first period together, and walk into the school together—skirting the gym so you don't accidentally run into the bully-dominated basketball squad—but separate inside since your lockers are in different hallways. You're exchanging one set of books for another when a figure materializes at your side. "Yo," says Keith Tilley, lounging against a locker and jutting his chin at you. "Whadja do this weekend?"<br/>
<br/>
Tilley is your other good friend, the third of your three musketeers act. Or maybe the half in your two-and-a-half dudes schtick. He's kind of a dweeby loser, to be honest. Right now, for instance, he's trying to look really cool by gazing down his nose at you from under hooded eyes. But it just looks like he's suffering a weird ocular condition.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," you snort. <i>What would Caleb say?</i> "I tried getting together with Will a few times, but he was being weird over Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
Keith blinks—eyes not quite synchronized with each other—and his head lolls to the side. "I called your house Saturday, and your mom said you were spending the night at his place."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck, you forgot that was the excuse he gave her.</i> "Yeah, well, sometimes I tell her that when I'm not."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh? Don't tell me you were gettin' bee-zay witcha girl." He leers in a way that makes your stomach turn.<br/>
<br/>
"If I was, Keith, I wouldn't tell you." You slam the locker.<br/>
<br/>
He sniggers. "Think you learned your lesson from Prescott, huh? Blah-blah-fuckity-blah-Lisa-blah-blah. But I'll tell you this." He jabs you in the shoulder with a pale finger. "When a girl breaks up with you, you'll be moaning as much as he is."<br/>
<br/>
"Shoot me now." You wriggle free from him, and move down a different  hall toward Walberg's class.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb—<br/>
<br/>
You remind yourself to think of him as "Will Prescott," lest you make a mistake.<br/>
<br/>
Will is loitering near the door, and does a little double-take as you come up. You suppress the urge to wink or smirk or give any other sign that something is up; from the flickers that pass over his face, it looks like he's doing the same. And that leaves neither of you with anything to say or do, except go inside the room.<br/>
<br/>
It's begun to fill already. Geoff and Lisa are in their seats, and so is Geoff's butt-buddy Martin Gardinhire. Kelsey Blankenship and Brooke Galloway are buzzing with each other. Through the other door enters Laurent Delacroix; he drops into the desk in front of Kelsey. You shuffle into your seat.<br/>
<br/>
Will pokes you in the shoulder. "The fuck are you doing, Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
You look up at him, then glance around. <i>Oops.</i> This is your usual seat; Caleb typically sits in the next row over. "Sorry, Will, haven't had my coffee yet." You move over.<br/>
<br/>
Instead of taking his seat, though, Will goes over to Lisa, bending over her desk and talking quietly to her. You tense all over. He looks so calm and confident, even a little smug, and it gnaws at you from the inside. <i>Of course he can be so calm with her, he doesn't give a fuck about her, probably he's laughing on the inside because of the way he's leading her on!</i> You glare and glare at him—<br/>
<br/>
Then you notice that Mansfield is also giving him a dark look. In fact, his eyes seem locked on him.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Mansfield," you blurt out before you realize it, and with a jerk of his head Geoff looks over at you. "You scopin' out my man Prescott? You think he's sexy or something?"<br/>
<br/>
Color shows in Geoff's cheek, and he turns his back on Lisa and Will, leaning over to mutter at Gardinhire, who gazes back serenely in your direction from behind those stupid shades that he never takes off.<br/>
<br/>
As you turn around you catch Laurent staring at you. You return his gaze evenly, and he breaks into a grin. He leans over to say something to Kelsey. She turns, and gives you a brief, slit-eyed sneer.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, what do you care what that stuck-up bitch thinks? You made the captain of the wrestling team laugh.</i><br/>
<br/>
Walberg starts the class, and then you can be bored without having to pretend to be Caleb-being-bored.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After that comes Caleb's AP Calculus class with Mr. Kowalski. You've got Kowalski for your own (non-AP) Calculus class, so the class doesn't feel weird; and although the material is quite an advance on what you're getting in the other class, it's not entirely beyond your comprehension, either. The only bad thing is that it's stuffed with AP twats—Mansfield and Gardinhire again; also Anthony Kirk and Ricky Golia and Brent Pruitt. But Kowalski dominates it with his lecture, so there's no interacting with them.<br/>
<br/>
Then comes AP Chemistry, and you take the long way around to the library so that Gelding won't spot you. You were planning to spend the time sketching a paper that Walberg assigned for Friday, but when you walk through the door you spot Eva Garner sitting by herself in the middle of the library.<br/>
<br/>
She and her sister Jessica and brother Marc are triplets: non-identical, of course, but Eva and Jessica look enough alike that they wear their hair differently so as not to be commonly mistaken for each other. Eva wears hers in a short, blonde bob, and she is absent-mindedly brushing it—though maybe "batting it lightly with a brush" would be more accurate—while staring intently at nothing in particular. <br/>
<br/>
You don't have much to do with the Garner siblings: Eva and Jessica are cheerleaders, which puts them at least three social levels above you, and Marc is both a soccer player and AP stud, which earns him a place in two of your own bad books. But you and they have friends in common, and they're usual civil when they deign to talk to you.<br/>
<br/>
More to the point, she's one of Lisa's best friends. And as your best friend pointed out, "Caleb" is someone she will freely talk to about your ex-.<br/>
<br/>
So you drop into the chair across from her. "How's the cheerleader business?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you blankly, then lifts the corner of her upper lip in a quick sneer. "I don't wanna talk about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like Chelsea was in fine form today. C'mon, you can tell me. Who was crying by the end of practice?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna— What do you care?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't. But it's something to talk about. Oh, hey, speaking of things I don't care about but it's something to talk about, Will went on a date with Lisa yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean that movie? Tss. Geoff was with them. So you might as well say he went on a date with Geoff."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh man, how pathetic is <i>that?</i>." Your guts clench, but you press on with the pretense of being unsympathetic to your own cause. "So if Will and Geoff were on a date, who was Lisa there with? Is she really serious about Mansfield?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know." She looks you up and down, curiously and carefully. "Will didn't tell you it was a group thing at the theater?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. He's delusional or embarrassed, I guess. He's all fucked up over her. I mean, never mind people crying because of Chelsea. You should see <i>him</i> crying because of Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
Her mouth falls open. "Is he <i>really?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Red Alert! Reverse and full astern!</i> "Well, not literally. The dude doesn't <i>cry.</i> But he's all twisted up. Me and Tilley are ready to throttle him."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well. It's not like there was ever a chance between them. I mean, I like Will. I guess. But if he weren't so immature, if he didn't dress like he's still in fifth grade— I mean, that's why Lisa likes Geoff, you know, he—"<br/>
<br/>
And you tune out behind a haze of anger while she rattles off about Mansfield and all his amazing qualities. His smarts, his ambitions, his good taste; the hard work he's putting into his classes and his prep work for college; his acumen on art and literature. Apparently you're able to maintain a poker face throughout, for she never falters in this recital. "Fuck, maybe <i>I</i> should go out with him," you say at the end. The jibe earns you a look. "So why are you letting Lisa hook this amazing fish," you ask. "Why aren't you angling for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa's more his type," she says, and shows a trace of discomfort as she says it.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you saying you're not? What, does Geoff look down his nose at you because you're a cheerleader?"<br/>
<br/>
She turns on you with a gasp of outrage. "That has nothing to do with—"<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe you're not allowed to chase him? Isn't Yumi always complaining about how Chelsea tries running you guys' love life?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea can kiss my—"<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe Geoff isn't good enough for <i>you?</i> It seems like I always see you with the basketball players, Eva."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck off, Caleb." She starts to get up.<br/>
<br/>
It's fun teasing her from under another face, where <i>you</i> won't get the blame, but you don't want to run her off. "Look, I'm sorry," you say. "I know you're not a snob like Chelsea and her crew. But after what you said about Geoff, I'm curious. Who <i>is</i> your type?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't got a 'type'," she loftily declares. "That's horrible thing to say. I like— Well, I'm not looking for a type. A guy has to come to me, and then I'd decide."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're saying <i>anybody</i> has a chance with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not just <i>anybody,</i>" she sputters.<br/>
<br/>
"Who <i>would</i> you rule out?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't rule out anyone!"<br/>
<br/>
"So <i>anybody</i> has a chance with you!" you conclude with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
And as soon as you say it, you get the idea, the perfect revenge on Caleb for the way he humiliated you with Umeko and Lisa.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Promise of Coffee, the Perils of Lunch
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I wouldn't rule out anybody," Eva says, and her tone is a little too grand for her own good.<br/>
<br/>
"So you wouldn't rule out <i>me?</i>" You put on that shit-eating grin of Caleb's that you practiced last night.<br/>
<br/>
Eva looks like she's been hit between the eyes with a 747, and she coughs suddenly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's what I thought," you say, and start to get up.<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb!" Now she blushes. <br/>
<br/>
You'll say this much for Eva Garner: She doesn't like to cause offense, unlike most of the other cheerleaders and upper-crust crowd. "Yes?" you ask. "You have a follow up, or are you testing to see if I answer to my name?"<br/>
<br/>
She blinks rapidly. "It's not like <i>that.</i> Sure, I'd give you a ... a chance."<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, that's sweet of you. Let's set a timer and see how long it takes you to decide that, Nope, you're <i>not</i> interested."<br/>
<br/>
She scowls—half from anger, half from embarrassment, half from shame, you'd judge (despite the mathematical improbability), as all three emotions war for full possession of her face. "When I said I'd give anyone a chance, I meant—" She doesn't finish.<br/>
<br/>
"You meant what? That you'd think about it for at least three seconds? Or that you'd actually go on a date with anyone if they asked you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you asking me on a date?" she retorts, and her tone suggests she thinks she's trapped you.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you instantly reply. <i>Wow! It's amazingly fun to ask a pretty girl out when your own ego isn't on the line.</i> "Go on a date with me, Eva."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that a <i>dare?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me. Do you <i>dare</i> go on a date with me?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't tell if she wants to yell or laugh. Maybe she doesn't know herself. "I'll take up any dare that you— I don't kiss on a first date," she hastily interrupts herself.<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine. We'll get together, get some coffee, talk or maybe watch a movie together on an iPad, and if you touch me I'll scream." You grin again.<br/>
<br/>
She laughs at that. You lean back in your chair, and let the boner that's been creeping up on you lift triumphantly.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. When?" she demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Tonight. Seven o'clock."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at each other. The funny thing is that she actually looks relieved, as though she feels she's met a challenge. Why anyone, especially Eva Garner, should feel relief at accepting a date proposal from Caleb Johansson baffles you. But her eyes glint and her cheeks dimple, and she holds your eye steadily.<br/>
<br/>
Then she leans forward and cups her chin in her hand. "I'm not a <i>snob,</i>" she says.<br/>
<br/>
You mirror her pose. "I didn't think you were."<br/>
<br/>
"So why'd you have to say all those horrible things about me before asking me out?"<br/>
<br/>
"What horrible things did I say?"<br/>
<br/>
"About how I wouldn't go out with you."<br/>
<br/>
"You thought that was a horrible thing to say? Here's a horrible thing to say. Ahem. Imagine— Close your eyes. Imagine <i>Keith Tilley</i> asking you out."<br/>
<br/>
Her brow darkens. "That's not nice, Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God. Are you saying you'd have said 'yes' to him too? Boy, <i>that</i> makes me feel special."<br/>
<br/>
"It would depend on how he asked me," she says. "I liked the way <i>you</i> asked me."<br/>
<br/>
"How was that? What did I do that was right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. It just was." She peers at you. "It made me see you a little differently."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm. Well, I don't wanna jinx it." You pick up your bag. "Seven o'clock at your place, right? See you tonight."<br/>
<br/>
You keep Caleb's backpack at crotch level as you stand and turn, lest she see your erection, and at the doors to the library you adjust your pants so it won't be so noticeable to anyone else. But you remain stiff all the way out to the portables, where you squat and ponder the curious turn things have taken.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Wanna go eat in a corner, talk?" you ask Will as you leave English class together. <br/>
<br/>
"Why, you got something you wanna talk about? I was gonna go eat with Carson and them."<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine. Grab Tilley while you're at your locker, let's make it fun."<br/>
<br/>
The gang you're looking for is out front in the corner of the quad between A wing and the library. Carson Ioeger, James Lamont, Paul Davis, and Jenny Ashton form its core; occasionally Yumi Saito or even Cindy Vredenburg will join them. But today it's only Carson and Jenny and Paul, and even the latter keeps looking around anxiously, as though searching someone out. "Hey, mind I join you," you ask as you sit on the grass with them.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Prescott?" Carson asks. "You fighting with him again?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. He and Keith'll be along in a minute. When do I fight with Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." He takes a bite out of his sandwich. "What happened to you in Chem?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't feel like going. And fuck me, but it paid off. I went to the library instead, and—"<br/>
<br/>
Someone lightly kicks you, and you turn around. Will grins and drops next to you. "So where's Lamont," he asks the others.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess him and Ioeger are fighting again," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't fight," says Carson. "We just sarcastically question each other's manhood when our disagreements become unbearable."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd love to know where he is," Jenny says. She grabs some chips from Carson, who grabs some of them back. "Him and Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't it James who's usually asking where <i>you</i> are?" Will asks. "And Davis who's always asking where Yumi is?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's supposed to be coming," Paul says, raising up on his knees and looking toward the cafeteria again. "But maybe she got stuck with Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, man," Carson sighs, and rolls onto his back. "If I had some superglue I'd definitely arrange to get stuck to Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"If you had some superglue you'd get your hand stuck to your cock," Jenny retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," says Keith. "I wonder— If you got some superglue on your cock, could you get it stuck inside a—" He cries out as Jenny whaps him.<br/>
<br/>
"Something for you to Google, Tilley," says Carson. "I can't imagine you finding out any other way, since you're unlikely to find yourself in any danger of getting your—" He breaks off as Keith reaches for him, but you and Will pull Tilley back. "But that reminds me," Carson says, turning to you. "How goes your time capsule paper for Walberg?"<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome," you drawl. Will maintains a poker face. "I can't tell you how much fun it is write a paper about porn for school."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you writing about porn," Jenny asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I think you were off with Cindy that day," Carson says. "Go on, Johansson, tell Jenny why you're writing about porn for Walberg."<br/>
<br/>
"Can we please not use 'Walberg' and 'porn' in the same sentence?" Will asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Just because you're jealous of my idea," you dismissively reply. "Yeah, so, Walberg had us bury this time capsule last Friday?" you tell Jenny and the others. "For my contribution, I put in a bunch of porn on a thumb drive."<br/>
<br/>
"And he <i>let</i> you?" Jenny gasps.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb had something to say about that, but you don't remember what it was, so you just shrug. Will takes up the story. "He told Caleb that if he wrote a good paper on it, he'd let it go. So he's writing about the obsolescence of technology and the evanescent nature of standards of beauty."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, who's writing the fucking thing," you demand, and shove him. "I'm writing about the obsolescence of technology and the ever— evern-green—" you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"How long is the time capsule supposed to be buried?" Paul asks in a worried voice. "Because, you know, in ten years, let alone a hundred, I don't think they're going to be able to recover anything off a thumb drive. The technology will be—"<br/>
<br/>
"Will be obsolescent!" Will cries. "That's the fucking point!"<br/>
<br/>
Carson and Jenny exchange a glance and a grin. "Sounds like you really are jealous of Johansson's paper there, Prescott," Carson says. "What did <i>you</i> put in the capsule?"<br/>
<br/>
"A hair dryer," he says. Howls of derisive laughter from Carson; guffaws from Jenny; a tittering snort from Davis. "Go ahead, laugh. Sure, I only put about two seconds thought into it. It's fucking Walberg, what do I care? Still—" He grins at you. "I'm writing my paper on Wednesday at the library, and <i>Lisa's</i> gonna be there too."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh," Ioeger say with carefully studied cruelty. "What takes Lisa and Geoff Mansfield to the library on Wednesday evenings?"<br/>
<br/>
You nearly reach over to hit him, but catch yourself in time. Will does it for you, though. "She's going with <i>me,</i>" he says.<br/>
<br/>
You pick up where Caleb would have if he were in his own shoes instead of yours: "You mean the way you went with her to that movie yesterday? In Mansfield's back pocket?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I admit, that was pretty pathetic of me," Will says hotly. "But I pulled it out. It's just gonna be her and me on Wednesday, like old times."<br/>
<br/>
You'd have congratulated Caleb for playing it right, but he had to use the word "pathetic." Why should you reward the guy for that when you can go on that date tonight with Eva Garner in his place?</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112
author_id: seuzz
title: Brief Encounters
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb's after-lunch schedule is pretty relaxed: a study hall, then Statistics and AP Physics. The latter two are completely over your head, but you figure Caleb can handle the material even if he misses it, and you sit through them with a glazed smile on your face, anticipating the date to come with Eva.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, you're so distracted that when the final bell rings you don't notice what you're doing, and as you stand up you trudge on someone's foot and fall back into your seat. You start to apologize, but your voice dies entirely when you see who it is.<br/>
<br/>
It's Steve Patterson, and he stops and turns his six-foot, six-inch frame on you. From up where his eyes are to down where you're sitting: It's bad enough when you're standing in his shadow, but it's terrifying to sit inside it. His icy gray eyes lock onto yours. <br/>
<br/>
After a moment of this, you try to stand up, but he leans in close, and you fall back into the chair. You look around nervously, but no one says anything as they shuffle out. No one so much as looks in your direction, and most have their heads down. <i>A room full of Caleb Johansson-like nerds and Brent Pruitt-like preppies, and </i>you<i> have to step on the foot of the one alpha-jock in the class.</i> Even Mr. Krohling, oblivious as ever, is strolling toward the classroom door after erasing the board. Your only consolation is that Patterson can't stand here forever. If nothing else, he's got after-school basketball practice to get too.<br/>
<br/>
But still, he doesn't move.<br/>
<br/>
Briefly, it occurs to you that, as you're looking like Caleb, you'd be perfectly safe pissing him off by trying to shove him out of the way. But you'd still be the one getting hurt when he threw you across the room.<br/>
<br/>
But you can outwait him, right? <br/>
<br/>
After six seconds, a sense of burning humiliation sets in.<br/>
<br/>
You shift the desk sideways. He follows, wedging you back in.<br/>
<br/>
You sit and wait and look anywhere except at him. Isn't he getting as bored? Can't you catch him off guard? And why are you being such a chicken-shit?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, right.</i> Because of the time he and Gordon Black, the captain of the basketball team, held James Lamont upside down in the bathroom, stripped him of his clothes, and redressed him with shirt and shorts swapped, so that he had to go to class with his arms straight up in the air and his head emerging through the crotch of his shorts. And about nine thousand similar incidents that Patterson was on the giving end of.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, you can stand it no longer, and twist the desk violently to the side by ninety degrees and leap to your feet before Patterson can move to block you again. You grab your bag and wheel for the door—<br/>
<br/>
And a hard shove between the shoulder blades sends you sprawling on the floor, and your bag opens and spills its contents across the tile. Patterson stands on your butt and walks up your back, and when he steps off next to your ear he gives it a little tap with his toe. Then savagely he kicks your bag into a corner. From under your brows you watch his tennis shoes disappear through the doorway into the hall. You're still pulling your stuff together when Mr. Krohling returns. "Good heavens, Caleb, what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"I tripped."<br/>
<br/>
"What were you still doing in here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hanging out with a friend."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You thought you had an unspoken agreement with Caleb to meet him at the elementary school, but he's not there when you arrive. And since—as "Will Prescott"—he's got the key to your padlock, you can only wait until he either arrives or replies to your texts.<br/>
<br/>
He's not quick about either one, but he looks pleased about something when he does pull up. "Just got back from Salopek," he says. "I finally got to put in that application."<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome," you say. Then the penny drops. "Wait a minute, I don't want that job! You're the one who—"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't put it in for you, I put it in for me."<br/>
<br/>
"But as who? If you're looking like that—"<br/>
<br/>
"I told them I was putting it for a friend. I picked it up, went around the corner to fill it out, and brought it back. So relax." He grins. "Perfect end to the day, huh? I can't believe it. <i>No one</i> caught on!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why would they? You look just like me, I look just like you—"<br/>
<br/>
"We're both dipshits dipped from the same shit pile," he grins. He tosses a key to you. "Get the door open. I'll go around the corner to get us a bag of ice."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"So we can make some more masks. You were going to do that Saturday night, weren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but do we need to now? Don't you think this is enough?"<br/>
<br/>
"Enough for what?" He slaps you in the chest. "We were going to prank people! And look how easy it is. I bet all we have to do is show up as them."<br/>
<br/>
"But we'd have to try to act like them too," you protest. "I know how to act like you, but I don't know how to act like, well, whoever."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft, I wasn't even trying to act like you at the end. Come on, get things set up while I get the ice. We'll make some more masks, then switch back and go home."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, let's do one more night and day," you say, thinking of tonight's date with Eva. "Like, just to make sure today wasn't a fluke."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want you skipping Chem again," he says. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Damn, that's right.</i> You think quickly. "So, how about we switch back just for third period tomorrow. We'll do it in the bathroom."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna get caught in the bathroom during a break," he says, turning white. "Remember what happened to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, okay. You've got Kowalski second period, right? He won't care if you're tardy, and I know Hawks won't mind, so let's skip second and do it then."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb kicks a little more over it, but finally agrees. You'll both wear jeans tomorrow so that you only have to change t-shirts and shoes when you make the hand-off. Then at lunch you'll make another switch, back into each other.<br/>
<br/>
Down in the basement, you find that you've only enough ingredients to make one more mask. "I got a little bit of money I can toss into the project," Caleb says. "I'll pick up some more stuff tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"How many more of these do we wanna make?"<br/>
<br/>
"I figure at least three," he says after a moment's thought. "I wanna try a couple of different body types, see if there's a limit. I mean, you and I are about the same size and shape, but is there a limit we can't go above, or below? Is there a body structure we can't use because we're the wrong shape? There's a lot of variables to consider. So." He ticks off on his fingers. "We wanna big guy, like Richards, and a little kid, like five or six years old. That'll give us the size range. Also a girl."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Seriously?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Pft, yeah! I mean, aside from the experiment, finding out if it'll give us all her equipment—" He sniggers and lightly fondles the air in front of his chest. "Wouldn't you like to play with some of her stuff, just to see what it's like to have?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself redden. Also, stiffen.<br/>
<br/>
"I think those are the three big tests." He chews his lip. "I suppose we could try getting one on an old person, to see if age makes a difference. And if we could find someone who was missing an arm or a leg, that would tell us about missing appendages."<br/>
<br/>
"Won't the girl's mask tell us that?"<br/>
<br/>
He blinks. "Oh, right." Again he fondles his breasts, but this time in a speculative way. "The breasts can be an expansion," he muses. "And the dick can be an amputation. But what about <i>adding</i> an appendage? If we put one of our masks <i>onto</i> a girl, what would happen?"<br/>
<br/>
"She'd freak out."<br/>
<br/>
"Aside from that. Would it generate a new appendage on her? This is really fascinating."<br/>
<br/>
"That's great, Spock, but let's finish up. I don't want your mom getting mad at me for being late."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You clean up as best you can for the date, using what clothes Caleb has: a white long-sleeve shirt, some slacks, and some loafers. There's no point brushing your hair, since it is so short and wiry and curly that it never looks disordered. You smile at yourself, and sink a little inwardly. With his big nose and functional hair and gangly frame, Caleb has a classic "engineering nerd" look to him. But fuck it, that's no impediment to having fun while wearing it. Any screw ups you make on the date will be blamed on him. Not that you want to screw up. <br/>
<br/>
"Don't you look nice," Eva says when she meets you at her door; Marc, who answered your knock, hides a smile and looks away. She herself hasn't dressed up much: blouse and jeans and shoes of the type she might wear to school when trying to look good. She smiles a little ironically when you open the passenger-side door for her.<br/>
<br/>
Your conversation at the coffee shop is low-key and causal and relaxed: You tell yourself you're just two friends hanging out, but you lean in a little more intensely toward her so that she'll know you're interested in more than just the talk, which is gossip about teachers and classes and common friends and common enemies. She has lots of nasty things to say about Patterson, for instance.<br/>
<br/>
But one name feels conspicuous by its absence: "Will Prescott." Eva seems to get along well with Caleb, but you've never felt comfortable with her. As the conversation progresses, you feel a strengthening urge to drop your name into the talk and see what she says.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122
author_id: seuzz
title: Double Dates
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You fight back the urge to bring yourself up as a topic of conversation; it feels like the temptation to play with fire. Instead, as a near approximation, you steer talk onto Paul Davis. "Why do you want to know what I think of Paul?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Because he has a crush on Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
"So shouldn't you be asking be asking Yumi what she thinks of Paul?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's not here," you reasonably point out. "Anyway, I'm interested in <i>you,</i> not Yumi." She smiles at that, though maybe a little tightly. "But it's a situation where you've got this guy, Paul, who's crushing heavily on a girl who's a cheerleader. You're a cheerleader. So what do you think when you see that?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's my being a cheerleader have to do with it? Honestly," she mutters. "Anyway, lots of guys crush on cheerleaders. And it's not so easy or great, you know. You don't hear some of the things that get said to us, or the looks we get, in the hallways."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't like it, even from an attractive guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"It makes them <i>not</i> attractive, at least to me," she says. "Though I think Chelsea likes it, because she knows she doesn't have to put up with it. If someone says something really nasty to her, she just has to tell Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna talk about Chelsea." Another confession that draws a smile from your date. "And I don't want to talk about the random guys in the halls. I want to hear about Paul and Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes narrow over her smile. "Why? Did he put you up to—"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you snort. You put your chin in your cupped hand. "Like I said, here's a guy who's really keen on a cheerleader. Personally, I think she's out of his class, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"He's not— Why would you think that?" Eva exclaims. "He's kind of cute, and he's smart. He's got a good personality—"<br/>
<br/>
"You think so? I think he's kind of drippy. And he's such a beta even the betas think he's beta. I mean, Ioeger and Lamont are his friends and even they push him around mercilessly."<br/>
<br/>
"Carson and James aren't betas. Being an alpha doesn't mean you have to be on the basketball team. Even nerds have alpha types."<br/>
<br/>
You laugh. "So if Ioeger and Lamont are alphas, what does that make Steve Patterson?"<br/>
<br/>
"A sociopathic asshole. Him and Gordon both."<br/>
<br/>
"So let me get this straight," you say. "You look at Paul mooning after Yumi, you don't think 'That's pathetic, look at him, that drippy little loser getting a hard-on for a cheerleader'."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I <i>don't!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You wonder how sincere she is, for though she sounds quite insistent, her face is flushed as though she's been caught in a lie, or in a lie that she ardently wishes were a truth. "So what <i>do</i> you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well—" She looks away, and the expression of embarrassment deepens on her face. "I feel kind of sorry for him, because I know she's not interested. And it's obvious that she's not interested but she's trying to spare his feelings, but he won't take the hint. And I feel sorry for her because he's being such a puppy dog about chasing her."<br/>
<br/>
"But you wouldn't think it weird if she <i>did</i> like him?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I mean, it would be her business." She snorts softly. "I'm sure Chelsea would try to make it <i>her</i> business, because she's always—" She catches herself. "But I don't see anything—"<br/>
<br/>
She stops in mid-sentence, probably because she's just caught onto the way you're staring at her.<br/>
<br/>
"So the only problem you see, really," you say, "is that Paul doesn't realize he hasn't got a chance."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say that. I don't know if he's got a chance or not. But it would be better if he said something clearly, so Yumi could say something clearly, and then they could go on, either together or, you know—" <i>Or much more likely apart,</i> she refuses to say. "He's just trailing her around, hoping that she'll get worn down or tired of pushing him away, and make the first move. That way he doesn't have to do any work or take any risks."<br/>
<br/>
"Do <i>you</i> want the same thing from guys? To take a risk and jump in?"<br/>
<br/>
She says nothing immediately, but returns your stare with a steady gaze of her own. "They'd have to know that it <i>is</i> a risk."<br/>
<br/>
"But you wouldn't be offended or grossed out or go 'Euggh, euggh, get away from me you slimy horrible thing, stop raping me with your gross fantasies!'"<br/>
<br/>
Eva recoils in shock, and looks highly offended. "Oh God, do you really think I'm like that?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But if I try to imagine myself asking Kendra or Gloria or Cindy—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck," Eva exclaims. "Kendra and Gloria. Yeah, with them, same as with Chelsea. Cindy wouldn't be like that, though." She snickers. "Of course, if you asked Cindy out you'd have <i>Seth</i> to contend with—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I didn't think you were like that either, but I wanted to make sure," you say.<br/>
<br/>
And because you are talking from under Caleb's face, and are doing this for him, you are entirely calm when you speak next. "Because I really like you, Eva, and I'd like to go out with you."<br/>
<br/>
She turns pink again, and very slowly a smile appears on her face. "Isn't that what we're doing now?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean steady. Like boyfriend-girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
Her face is now shining, whether from embarrassment or pleasure or simple awe at your forwardness you can't tell. "Shouldn't we go on a series of dates first?"<br/>
<br/>
"Make you a deal," you say, feeling more and more emboldened by your lack of fear. "Trade you a series of dates for a kiss tonight."<br/>
<br/>
She turns her head and looks away, but can't stop smiling. "I told you, I don't kiss on first dates."<br/>
<br/>
"So we won't kiss on the second, third, fourth or fifth dates. I'll trade those for one tonight. And after the fifth date I'll ask you again about going steady."<br/>
<br/>
She hangs fire for a long time. "Alright," she finally says, still blushing. "We'll give that a try."<br/>
<br/>
You've long since exhausted your drinks, so it seems like a good time to wrap things up. You lead her outside to the car, but before reaching it you pluck at her hand. She turns and you move in close. There's a moment of hesitation, and then your mouths touch lightly. You don't press things too hard, but you get a good taste of her lips, and you think she gets a good taste of yours. "Mm," she says after you part. "Maybe we could have a few kisses on the next few dates. "We could call them lessons."<br/>
<br/>
You take her home and walk her to the door, and have a pleasant but contact-free parting.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I got something I need to talk to you about," you mutter to Will the next morning during first period. "So let's skip second, if you can."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I got something to talk about too," he says. You wonder a little at that. Does he have something to say, or is  that just the "countersign" for your arrangement to meet and swap shirts and faces?<br/>
<br/>
You have to chase him out of the room when the bell rings, for he leaves at a smart pace, and only catch up to him at a water fountain. He glances around, then leans in. "We'll do it in separate restrooms," he says. "C wing for me, D wing for you. Take off the mask, then we'll meet in C wing to change shirts and shoes and bags."<br/>
<br/>
"And I gotta talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Me too. I set you up for another date with Umeko, tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you set up something with Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
"That's for tomorrow night. This is so you can get an idea which one you want to pursue."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I need to talk about something more important with you, so after we change we need to skip."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't skip Calculus. I'm already a day behind. Can't it wait for lunch?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so. You might run into her."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes widen. "Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eva Garner. I set <i>you</i> up on a date with <i>her.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes pop. "You <i>what</i>?" He grabs the front of your shirt.<br/>
<br/>
"If you want the details, you better pick between me and Calculus, because if you bump into her—"<br/>
<br/>
He looks around wildly, then hauls you off toward the double doors leading outside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I thought you'd be happy," you protest. "It's Eva Garner! And you kissed her."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> kissed her!" he shouts back, and shoves you. You bounce off the wall.<br/>
<br/>
You're hidden in the cluster of disused portable behind the school, which is where people go when they want to be alone. There's a group of lonely-in-a-crowd types down at the other end, but you managed to find an abandoned corner where you can talk quietly. Whether you <i>do</i> talk quietly is another question, as Caleb seems really freaked out by your confession. "That's why you didn't want to switch back last night!" he snaps. "You wanted her all for yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so I set it up for you!" you retort. "You're over the hump, man."<br/>
<br/>
"And set me up to fail!"<br/>
<br/>
"Like you did to me with Lisa and Umeko?"<br/>
<br/>
"But this is Eva Garner!" His expression—filtered through your face, of course—mixes ardor and horror.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Do you want to leave her to me? I seem to be doing real good with her."<br/>
<br/>
He pushes you against the wall and shows his teeth. "We can't just take over each other's lives <i>permanently!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"So you want me to fuck it up with her for you?"<br/>
<br/>
He glares, but his expression turns thoughtful. "We're set up with some good-looking girls," he says. "And we want a mask of one. Listen, you go on that date with Eva, but I'll interrupt—as you—and get a mask onto her."<br/>
<br/>
"That'll make me look like an asshole!"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, then I'll go that date with Lisa for you, and <i>you</i> get a mask on <i>her.</i> Then <i>I'll</i> look like the asshole."</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222
author_id: seuzz
title: People Have Inhibitions for a Reason, You Know
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Neither of Caleb's plans appeals to you, but you have to admit the utility of what he's proposing: getting a mask of a pretty girl to experiment on. You don't want to be the one who looks like an asshole, though, you say that you'll ambush Lisa while he's on that date with her.<br/>
<br/>
It seems all set, until— "Shit, how are we going to get a mask polished up in time for tomorrow night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry, I got an idea. I was watching TV with your dad—"<br/>
<br/>
"What were you doing <i>that</i> for?"<br/>
<br/>
"He invited me to! I dunno why you're always complaining about him, I'm getting along with him fine. Anyway, I see a commercial with this guy buffing his car. You know, with one of those hand-held things? So I figure, why won't that work on the masks?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, maybe because it's not magic?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was a rhetorical question, dumbass. Anyway, we used all kinds of industrial stuff when making these, I bet this'll be no different. So your dad has one of those buffers, and I'll take it over to the clubhouse this afternoon. And while I'm doing that, you know my money stash in my dresser? Take it and go buy some more stuff."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The rest of the day passes without excitement, with you and Caleb briefly switching back to normal during the middle of the day before switching back. You don't even try to act in a Caleb-like way, and no one remarks on any odd behavior on your part or on your partner's. The rest of the day slides by smoothly, though you work harder at taking notes in AP Physics, lest Carson and James—who are also in there—catch you slacking. You're also careful in there because of what happened with you and Patterson yesterday. But he ignores you, during and after class.<br/>
<br/>
After that you run back to Caleb's house, pick up his money, and buy those supplies: enough, you estimate, for three more masks.<br/>
<br/>
"Check it out," he says when you barge into the school basement, and waves a mask at you. The front side is almost completely free of impurities; he hasn't started work on the inside curve. "That was only after forty minutes. Shit, I'll be done here in time for dinner." He looks through the sacks you brought. "You should come back over here at seven, and try to make up at least one more, maybe two."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh uh, I'm probably gonna have a play date with Tilley." You relate a short conversation you had with Keith during second period, in which he complained of being ignored. "If we want to keep him out of our hair, we gotta do a better job keeping him happy."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, that's a reasonable sacrifice," Caleb says. "I'd do it myself, but, tch, I've got that date with Umeko tonight." He winks slyly at you.<br/>
<br/>
You feel a twinge of jealousy, one only slightly relieved by your memory of the date with Eva. But you say nothing. He then gives you the homework that "Will" needs to do, and you give him the homework that "Caleb" needs to do, and part for the evening. Tomorrow will be another day like today: as each other until third period; as yourselves until lunch; then as each other for the rest of the day.<br/>
<br/>
Keith does call you, at around six-thirty, with the suggestion of getting a burger, but "mom" is almost done fixing supper, so you put him off until seven-fifteen. That's when he picks you up, and you drive around for an hour, talking about nothing in particular and with him none the wiser as to who you really are. At least it shuts him up about you and "Will" avoiding him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next day, at third period, you're back as yourself, but skip third period to see if Eva is in the library. You're curious to see how you act around her when you're being yourself, and to see how she treats you.<br/>
<br/>
But you almost turn around and leave when you walk in. Eva is there alright, but she's not alone. Chelsea Cooper is with her.<br/>
<br/>
Looked at objectively, Chelsea Cooper might not be the most beautiful girl in school. There are girls who have better hair and cuter faces and svelter figures and more prodigious assets. Most of them also don't have the kind of personality that frightens dogs, horses, and small children. But Chelsea Cooper combines a social position (head of the cheerleading squad, dating the captain of the powerful basketball team) and a character trait (utter ruthlessness) that make her the "most popular girl" in school by universal if maybe not heartfelt acclamation. And these she also unites in a physical package that, if surpassed in detail by others in the school, is probably the most lusciously well-balanced. Her tangle of blonde hair sits atop a baby-cute face with large, blue eyes, an upturned nose and bow-like lips. She is short and compact and strong with muscles that are firm and round in just the right places: butt, thighs, and calves. Her torso has a vase-like shape whose bowl-like pedestal is balanced by large, firm breasts. She wraps it all in tight clothes that leave little to the imagination even while she daunts male admirers with a tilted chin and distant gaze.<br/>
<br/>
And right now she's sitting next to Eva Garner, lazily drawing an emery board along her nails. If you didn't know Eva—and if you weren't friends with the guy Eva has decided to give a shot to—you wouldn't dare sit at the same table with her.<br/>
<br/>
But you've also learned to be brave over the last few days. "Hey Eva," you say as you pull out a chair. "Hi Chelsea," you add as you sit.<br/>
<br/>
Eva greets you by name. Chelsea stares at you blankly, as though she can barely focus on you. "Have you talked to Caleb yet today," you ask Eva.<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head.<br/>
<br/>
And before you can reply Chelsea inserts herself. "Tss," she says, and rolls her eyes. "Are you a friend of his? Oh, why am I asking? Look at you."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, why don't you look at me," you hear yourself blurting out. And she does, with a double-take when you add, "Or do you think you'd go blind?"<br/>
<br/>
She says nothing, but focuses on you a little more intensely. Eva's lips whiten. "We were just talking about Caleb," she murmurs, and avoids your eye.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Really.</i> "I just wanted to be sure he didn't chicken out," you tell her. "Don't let him, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea, again: "You like pushing your friends over cliffs?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's that supposed to mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pushing him where he doesn't belong," she says, and points the emery board at Eva. "You heard what she said. We were just talking about him."<br/>
<br/>
Something inside you snaps. Or maybe you've lost an inhibition. But it comes out without your meaning it to. "Are you saying my friend's not good enough for your precious little high school clique?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea smirks lightly.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you saying that, even though my friend is smart and funny and he's going to amount to something because he isn't a shit-for-brains dumbass gorilla like the one you're fucking?"<br/>
<br/>
The smirk vanishes.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is <i>your</i> boyfriend going to do, get a job breaking cinderblocks with his forehead? Is that how low you think you rate? Or maybe you just figure on riding Gordon's cock until you graduate, then you'll find some Wall Street racketeer, shake your boobies at him—" You unwisely demonstrate. "And move into a big house with a pool boy you can fuck when your husband isn't home." You run out of breath.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea says nothing. She doesn't move and she doesn't change color. She just stares at you. But you look at Eva's face, and decide it's best not to make things worse for her by staying, and push off. At the library door you glance over your shoulder, and see that Chelsea has gone back to lazily scraping her fingernails.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
During the break before lunch, you and Caleb separate, as is becoming customary, repairing to separate restrooms to change into each others' masks. It's begun to get a little boring, since absolutely no one is noticing the switch. Maybe this shows you've been hanging around each other too long—you're too much alike—and as you exit the restroom you're thinking maybe this should be the last day of the switch-offs.<br/>
<br/>
But all those vague speculations instantly evaporate as you're lifted from behind into the air. A strong hand has seized you by the belt, and another one closes like a vise around the back of your neck. As you yelp and wave your arms and legs, you are hustled aloft toward the doors leading outside. Students dive out of the away. Well, most of them dive. A lot of them jeer and whistle at you.<br/>
<br/>
Bones crunch as your captor batters the doors open with your face and chest; then the portables loom ahead. A pod of sophomores scatters. You have lots of time to soil yourself in anticipation of the impending climax, for you're being led to the very back, where no one can see. When you arrive, you are slammed face first into one of the portables. "Now, you little fuck," a voice growls in your ear. You tense as the hands release you. Then—<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Will, snap out of it and help!" Wincing, you look behind. Caleb, white of face, is standing over Gordon Black, who is sprawled on the ground. "We gotta hide him before—"<br/>
<br/>
"What did you do to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"The only thing I could think of!" He brandishes his open backpack. "I saw he had you, so I ran after and jumped him and got one of those blank masks onto his face!"<br/>
<br/>
You gulp. "You—? Oh, Jesus, let's get out of here! When he wakes up—"<br/>
<br/>
"When he wakes up it's gotta be as someone else," says Caleb with a desperate ferocity. "The only way we continue living is if he becomes one of us, and one of us becomes <i>him!</i>"</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222
author_id: seuzz
title: One Very Odd Protection Program
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You must not have heard right: "What are you talking about, us being him, him being us?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb just snaps his fingers and points at the portable behind you; its door, you notice, is hanging open. "Let's get him inside there," he says, and lifts Gordon by the arms. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you're thinking—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm thinking we need to move this fucker before someone comes," Caleb hisses. He tries pulling Gordon, but he might as well be pulling a semi. "We gotta hide him before anyone calls the paramedics, before the mask comes out of him—"<br/>
<br/>
"Why did you even put a mask on him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just help me, goddamn it!"<br/>
<br/>
So, straining every fiber, you and Caleb somehow get Gordon through the portable's narrow door. The inside is dark and dusty, smelling of old wood and sweat and paper and— "Christ, Dane and his stoner friends have been using this place as an opium den," Caleb mutters. "Thank God they were too high to close it up right when they were done." He drops his share of the burden and hops over to shut the door. But he leaves the lights off.<br/>
<br/>
"Will you tell me what we're doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're trying to keep you from being killed," he says. "Or did you want Gordon to paint the outside of this portable with your guts? Jesus, what did you do? He's never come after <i>us</i> before!"<br/>
<br/>
"I mouthed off to his girlfriend," you confess. "She must have sent him after me."<br/>
<br/>
"Brilliant. What a clusterfuck. Anyway, I saw him carrying you along, so I followed and used a mask on him."<br/>
<br/>
"One of the blanks? What were you even doing with it here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was gonna pass it along to you, obviously, to use tonight. We can't do that now, though, and we can't leave him like this. If he was out to hurt you before, he'll be out to <i>kill</i> you now."<br/>
<br/>
"But <i>you're</i> the one who—"<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't know <i>that</i>! But he knows <i>you</i> were there, so that's why we gotta put your mask on him.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen to me, man," he says as you stare back blankly.. "He's going to be looking to mess up Will Prescott good, and you know how good he and Patterson are at messing people up without getting attention. It's not like we can go into a witness protection program. You will spend the rest of the school year losing weight, hair and sanity. He'll sic that giggling psycho <i>Lynch</i> on you. We just fucked up his ego, you think he's just going to let that go? But if he wakes up and discovers that he <i>is</i> you, who can he hurt?" Caleb grabs and feels your bicep. "He won't have the upper body strength. Meanwhile, you'll be hiding out as him, which will make you doubly safe."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll think I'm a fucking wizard who stole his body!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, like that's not the truth? So what's wrong with him thinking it? Who can he tell? Who would believe him?"<br/>
<br/>
"He might buy a gun and shoot me! Or worse, he might go back to my place and piss off my dad! It's not like with us pretending to be each other! He hasn't got a reason not to fuck up my life!"<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, it'll only be for a couple of days, until the weekend. We'll let him get good and freaked out, then we'll talk to him and promise to change him back. But we'll also tell him that he has to treat you okay afterward, or else we'll switch him with— I dunno, Grossie Gutierrez.<br/>
<br/>
"How would we do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"We wouldn't <i>have</i> too, you fucking moron! It's called a <i>bluff,</i> and after finding himself in <i>your</i> body he won't dare call it!"<br/>
<br/>
You'd argue some more, but a glow catches your eye, and your sphincter tightens to see the mask has reappeared on Gordon's face. And that decides it for you.<br/>
<br/>
"Go find another open portable," Caleb says, and thrusts his bag and Gordon's mask at you. "You'll hide and change in there while I take care of him in here."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The portable next door is also unlocked, and Caleb tells you to undress there and wait. He packed the sealant in his bag as well, so while you sit, shivering, in a creaky old desk, you paint the inside of Gordon's mask with the lacquer. You're about halfway done when Caleb comes in to collect your things and to dump Gordon's. When he comes back a few minutes later, he finds you contemplating Gordon's clothes. "Why aren't you in those yet?"<br/>
<br/>
Because, truth to tell, you're a little daunted by them; they remind you of the scale of what you're being forced to do, because they are made for a guy who is at least half a foot tall than you, and who even at that height is built on a much more massive scale. Leaving aside the underwear (ick) there are the red cotton athletic shorts that are as long as your torso; a gray muscle shirt whose hem would likely drop below your butt; flag-like ankle socks and canoe-like athletic shoes. They all have a stink on them: the stink of alpha jock/bully. "Move it, Will," Caleb barks. "I just put your mask on that fucker, and he's going to be waking up before you do." <br/>
<br/>
You drop behind the teacher's desk at the front of the portable, and Caleb hands you the mask. With a deep breath you press it to your face. The world dims and darks, and you sink backward into a viscous sea of nothingness.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're grunting and snorting and swallowing as you wake, as though you're emerging from deep water. That is what it feels like, and even when you are out of it there is a fog in your head. You shake it loose and sit up stiffly. You can't see much, but—<br/>
<br/>
Your knees are enormous. You're used to your own skinny ones, but these are round like coconuts; and instead of sticking out like a knob that joins shank and thigh, these are firmly embedded between meaty thighs and calves. Fuck, they actually look like joints in a well-built limb—a leg—and not like a knot of rubber bands connecting two sticks. And your feet seem very far away. But when you sit all the way up and stretch toward them—<br/>
<br/>
To your astonishment your arms actually go that far, though you have to bend almost double, putting your face to your knees. You pull and stretch, and it feels very good. You sit back up again and draw a deep breath, and your chest keeps filling and filling and filling. You rest a palm over one pectoral: it's a thick dome of meat, as big and firm as the weight on a barbell. You roll your shoulder and experimentally flex a bicep; a great bulge swells.<br/>
<br/>
You look over the top of the desk. Caleb is at the window, peering out through a crack in the Venetian blinds. Slowly, quietly, you get to your feet, and sway a little when you're up, for it's like you're standing on top of a stepstool. You can see the crown of Caleb's head from above. <br/>
<br/>
The floor creaks beneath you. Caleb glances over, flinches back. "Jesus, you scared me," he hisses. He peers at you. "Are you in there, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where else would I be? Have you seen—? Has Gordon come out yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Maybe he's getting dressed or freaking out." His attention wavers between you and the window. "Well, you look like you've got everything," he says. "So how about getting dressed?"<br/>
<br/>
That's the matter of a minute, though you take it slowly: underwear, shorts, shirt, socks and shoes. Wallet and keys are on a desk; you slip them into your pockets after briefly contemplating Gordon Black's dead-eyed scowl in the driver's license. You pay as little attention to Black as you can, but it occurs to you now that you've never seen him looking happy. Which is funny, considering what a big man he is on campus, and how he has a hot girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb has a fearful expression as he gazes at you. "Christ, you look just like him. I can barely keep from shitting myself just to have you looking at me." He does a double-take at the window. "Sh! There he is!" he hisses. You step to the window, but can only barely make out the figure that has crept from the portable across the way.<br/>
<br/>
It's you—Will Prescott. He's bare-headed and hunched over, and he looks left to right before stepping out of the door to the portable. His expression is tense—freaked out, really—and he scratches his cheek, then looks down at his fingers with loathing. Gingerly, he lofts his backpack onto his shoulder, hangs his cap on his hair, and as though treading on egg shells creeps back toward the school.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll give him a few minutes," Caleb says. "Then I'll go out and circle around and catch up to him."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to tell him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, not right away. I'll tell him I heard about Gordon—you—hauling him back here for a beating. I'll play it from there depending on what he says. If he tries faking it through as you, I'll help him without letting him know it."<br/>
<br/>
"And who's going to help me?" you ask. This was always the flaw in Caleb's plan. "I don't know jack shit about Gordon Black. His classes or where he lives—"<br/>
<br/>
"Just be scary," Caleb says. "You're making a good start on that. You know what he drives, though. Maybe you should ditch school entirely, go off and get acquainted with his shit. You probably don't want the other guy spotting you right away." You don't reply, and he doesn't wait for you to decide. "Okay, I'm heading out. Call me tonight." <br/>
<br/>
He swings his pack onto his shoulder and leaves, abandoning you to your new situation.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Discovery of Gordon Black
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There's no way you're going to head into Gordon Black's life without preparation, but that doesn't mean you have to ditch school. So you just raise the blinds to let some light into the portable, and squat in a desk with Gordon's backpack.<br/>
<br/>
You're surprised at how neatly his notes are organized—more neatly than yours. Times and period numbers aren't recorded, but he's got Spanish, Psychology, US History, Career Planning, and something called CAD Technology. You've had the history class before; it looks like he's taking the beginning Spanish and psychology classes; you also have that bullshit "Career Planning" class on your schedule, with the same teacher, just at a different time. So at school, the challenge is going to be the mysterious "CAD Technology" class and Gordon's athletics.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> You've got Gordon's body, but not his memories. But what about his basketball skills?<br/>
<br/>
You glance out the window at the sound of loose chatter and shrill laughter. Dane Matthias, Adrian Semple, and Karl Hennepin come into view. Dane wobbles toward the portable across the way, but Karl opens the door to yours, and his eyes lock onto your face. You say nothing; he says, "Oh, shit," and slams the door.<br/>
<br/>
Heads bob outside, and Semple catches you watching through the window. Like Hennepin, he looks quickly away. He and the others disappear into the other portable. You return to Gordon's bag.<br/>
<br/>
In his wallet are about twenty dollars in bills. His cell phone has a dozen or more numbers in the address book: two obviously belonging to his parents; one belonging to Chelsea; most of the rest belonging to people you associate with the basketball team: Steve Patterson, Seth Javits, Jeremy Richards, Jonas Martin, Luke Bennett, Darren Green. Etc.<br/>
<br/>
You return everything to his bag and ponder. What do you know about Gordon Black, and what do you need to find out? You know where he lives, and you know what he drives—a very incongruous classic VW Bug, orange in color—and you know what some of his classes are. He's dating Chelsea Cooper, the cunt who got you into this predicament by taking your teasing so personally. He captains the basketball squad, and you usually see him hanging out with Patterson and Lynch and Javits and Chelsea. He has basketball practice before and after school. He shoves people around.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't know his schedule and you don't know where his locker is and you don't know its combination. You don't know if he has a job or where he works. You don't know anything about his family life or how he acts when he's alone with his friends. You don't know his hobbies or his likes or dislikes. You don't know if he plays any musical instruments, or if he has any mechanical aptitudes. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh yeah.</i> He also has access to a loft over the gym: the fabled "fuck room" where he and a privileged few can hang out and do God knows what but all can guess. You pull out the lanyard with Gordon's keys on the end. House keys, car keys, keys to padlocks, and keys that look like they go to special deadbolts. At least one of these can get you into the loft, and you've a strong desire to see what's up there. And it will be a safer spot than this portable.<br/>
<br/>
You wedge Gordon's ball cap onto your head—backward the way you've always seen him wear it—and sling his pack onto your shoulder. It has at least as many books as yours, but it feels much lighter. You duck outside, glance to see that the coast is clear, and trudge off toward the gym. The ground seems very far away, but you don't stumble.<br/>
<br/>
The bell rings as you're walking along, but if Caleb has done his job right, the real Gordon should be on the other side of the school building in one of your classes. You pass the tennis courts and natatorium and approach the gym at its side entrance. The floor is empty, but students are coming and going through double-doors at the front. Your gut clenches when you recognize some of the basketball players leaving, including Patterson. <i>What did you miss?</i><br/>
<br/>
The stairs leading up to the loft are to your left, by the folded-up bleachers, and they creak beneath your feet. At the top, around a corner, is a small landing with a wooden door. The white paint is badly peeling from it, and it has an old deadbolt up high, near your shoulder—what would be eye level to anyone but a Goliath like Gordon. You fish out the lanyard and test a few keys before finding the right one. You push the door open.<br/>
<br/>
The loft is fairly narrow, maybe twenty feet deep, but it runs all along the side of the gym. Wooden beams support a ceiling that slopes down to a line of windows just below the rafters, which are so close—and you're so tall—that you probably could palm them without having to raise yourself on tip toes. The floor is a jumble of big wooden crates and cardboard boxes; of broken-down gymnastic equipment; of metal pipes and other hardware that's been thrust into corners. There's an open space in the middle of the loft that has a couple of gym mats laying out; they are ripped in spots, showing yellowed stuffing. Nearby is a dorm-size refrigerator, its black cord trailing over to a wall under the window, and an open cardboard box. A garbage sack contains some old pizza boxes and beer cans and bottles.<br/>
<br/>
Beer? You kneel at the fridge, and find it contains three six packs. It's a cheap brew, but— With a transgressive thrill you crack open one of the golden cans. You sip, and swallow, and chug back half the contents. <i>Cheers, man!</i> You wipe your mouth on the hem of your shirt—as you imagine Gordon would—and give a contented sigh. Before going any further, you close and lock the door.<br/>
<br/>
You snoop inside some of the crates, and only find more equipment, some athletic, some scientific, some simple classroom supplies. The cardboard boxes contain lots and lots of old textbooks, for the most part. The great exception is the open box next to the gym mats. It contains lots and lots of porn, ranging from soft-core to the very, very hard. It also contains boxes of condoms, bottles of whiskey and vodka, packs of gum, and a carton of cigarettes.<br/>
<br/>
So it's very nearly the clubhouse of your dreams. You sit and lean against a wooden pillar and stretch your legs. So here you are: In the body of the biggest bad-ass in school, screwing the head cheerleader (judging by the condoms), sitting in any teenage boy's idea of heaven. If Caleb is right, you'll have a couple of days to enjoy it before you have to give it back to its rightful proprietor.<br/>
<br/>
Provided you don't screw it up somehow.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The tardy bell rings for the last period of the day, and you look up from the porn magazine. Forty-five minutes until the last bell, and then you'll have to see if you can fake your way through after-school basketball practice. Maybe you should leave before then. Would you get in trouble if you skipped practice? On the other hand, does it matter? You can get Gordon into as much trouble as you want, if you're going to be putting him back in a few days. But screwing things up might make your stay here unnecessarily unpleasant. <br/>
<br/>
As you temporize, you hear footsteps outside. The door handle jiggles, and there's a soft knock. "Gordon?" a voice calls.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Chelsea?</i><br/>
<br/>
You scramble up, but the lock is already turning before you reach the door. You open it with a jerk, and Chelsea stumbles in. She catches herself against you, putting her hands on your hips, and looks up into your face. She smiles.<br/>
<br/>
You almost faint. You would climb mountains, slay dragons, put your hand inside a fiery furnace just to have that smile turned on you. It transforms her whole face. For one thing, it gives her dimples.<br/>
<br/>
There's a light in her eyes, a light of adoration and ardor. She gazes deeply into your eyes, and you gaze deeply back into hers. The longer you stare, the more deeply rapt her expression grows. And the more deeply rapt she stares at you, the stiffer your cock gets.<br/>
<br/>
Abruptly, she buries her face in your chest and rubs her face in your shirt. "I looked for you at Fernandez's classroom, but you weren't there. And you weren't in the library. So I knew you'd be up here," she says. She squeezes you gently, and you put your arms around her. "You must have done a really good job on that little shit."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Right. So that's what this about. Gratitude for killing "Will Prescott."</i> <br/>
<br/>
"I didn't do anything to him, not really, not what anyone could see," you reply. "I just scared him, made him cry."<br/>
<br/>
She giggles. "Did you? Did you make him say he was sorry? Over and over again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. In fact," you add, improvising, "I made him invent new ways of saying it."<br/>
<br/>
"I hope you hurt him at least a little bit, pookie. I mean, those things that he said about me." She looks up, and her expression has completely changed: Her eyes are red, and she appears about to burst into tears. She sniffles hard, and a little gasp comes into her voice. "I've never heard— Anyone— Say those things to me." Tears slip down her cheeks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do it to him again tomorrow, if you want."<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow." She grabs you behind the shoulders and lifts herself up to eye level, wrapping strong legs about your hips. "Right now, though, I know what you deserve. And I'm <i>aching</i> to give it to you."<br/>
<br/>
You stifle a yelp. Caleb thinks he can talk Gordon into leaving you alone after you switch back. But would Gordon really not kill you if he found out that you fucked his girlfriend?<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221
author_id: seuzz
title: Lofty Expectations
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Chelsea shudders in your arms, and that shatters the last of your resistance. You step back and sink onto the gym mats. Chelsea kisses the side of your throat. <br/>
<br/>
You have no idea what she expects of you. Never mind what Gordon does with her; you still remember the way Eva laughed when you kissed her the other night. Still, you've got to do something? Right?<br/>
<br/>
You tug at the hem of Chelsea's sweater, but she squirms away. "Not like that," she says sharply, and grabs your hands. "This is for <i>you,</i> pookie, all for <i>you.</i>" She sits back and grins, and pulls at the bottoms of your shorts. They catch on your swollen cock, but—and this is practically a first in your own personal experience—she doesn't gag at the sight of your obvious erection. She pulls the shorts below your knees, then she pulls your underwear down. She lifts the hem of your shirt, and you help her pull it halfway over your shoulder to get it out of the way. You spread your legs and lean back, and she hunches between your legs.<br/>
<br/>
The experience is warm, and wet and frictive, and she uses her mouth and her tongue and her cheek and her soft palm and gentle fingertips. Trembling spasms run from somewhere deep between your hips up to the peak of the shaft, with reciprocal shivers running up and down your spine. You are, briefly, aware of the comical way you are gasping, opening and closing your mouth like a drowning fish. Your hands, what do you do with your hands? You settle for clenching the back of your head. How and when to come to climax is not within your control, but your terror of doing it wrong keeps pushing the moment back. <br/>
<br/>
Finally, either you can't stand it or she touches the right button, but something down there comes into focus: idiotically, a picture forms in your mind of the Death Star's firing sequence. You make some kind of noise, and Chelsea recognizes it as a sign or she reads the vibrations down below, for she unwraps her tongue from its business and takes your cock lightly in her hand, massaging it in time to your spasmodic eruptions. When it's over you lay back, heaving and gasping and wheezing. There are some tissues in the supply box, and she quickly gets you cleaned up. After throwing the tissues away, she drops the shorts over your crotch and crawls into your lap, wrapping her arms around your torso and laying her head on your chest. "You take such good care of me, Gordon," she croons. "I love you so much."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yikes.</i> And you are supposed to say in reply? Gordon would likely say? "I love you too," you croak.<br/>
<br/>
She raises her head sharply and stares at you. Her face is so close you can't make out her expression. Then she presses her face into your chest and rubs it hard with her nose and cheeks. She hugs you tightly. And you start to get aroused again.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want to do tonight?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. What do you want to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Go for a walk up in Sutton Wilderness?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay."<br/>
<br/>
"Or there's the TCK Grill." She raises her head. "You and me and Gloria, and Rachel Burton—we haven't been out with her in a while. I'll tell her to bring someone else." She grows more excited. "I'll tell Gloria, too. We can make it, like, a triple date! Unless— Is there someone you wanna bring along, one of the guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm happy as long as you're there."<br/>
<br/>
She squeals softly and wriggles in your lap. "You are being so sweet today, pookie." She puts her head back on your chest. "Can we just sit here like this until it's time for practice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sitting together doesn't mean sitting quietly, though, for Chelsea prattles on and on. Apparently she doesn't expect you to make any comments, and is satisfied with the occasional grunt from you. It's a lot of gossiping and complaining. Most of the names you are familiar with, but little of it means anything to you. Until Eva Garner's name comes up. "You know, it's her fault you had do that thing today."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? How?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was talking to her when he barged in. Just said down, it was incredibly rude, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"But how's it Eva's fault?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's because of what I was telling you about, how she's such a tease. You wouldn't believe it if you saw him, he's even stupider looking than the guy you had to— Who came in and said those horrible things to me. Anyway, that guy, I guess he's a friend of the guy Eva is stringing along, and he comes into the library and he's telling her she'd better not be fucking around with his friend, and threatening her and stuff, you know? And you can't just do that, that's <i>harassment.</i> So I'm telling him what he's doing is wrong and how Eva, I'm sure she'll figure out she shouldn't tease that other guy. Anyway, then this guy just cranks it up to ten with me." She sighs. "I <i>guess</i> he's trying to be loyal to his friend, I suppose." She clucks her tongue. "Maybe I should just let Eva and whatsisnuts—" She snickers and repeats the word "whatsisnuts. "Maybe I should just let them mess around with each other. She'll get burned good if he's anything like his friend today."<br/>
<br/>
You know it's a mistake even as you say it, but you say it anyway: "Well, what if Eva and this guy hit it off?"<br/>
<br/>
She lifts her head to stare at you. "That's <i>not</i> going to happen."<br/>
<br/>
"It takes all kinds. You see some funny couples around."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes narrow. "Would you like to see a friend of <i>that guy</i>—" And it's clear that "that guy" is Will Prescott. "A friend of <i>him</i> dating a friend of ours?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that's a point."<br/>
<br/>
She puts her head back on your chest. Then she sits back up. "If I pointed him out to you," she says in a light singsong, "do you think you could convince that guy it's a bad idea to be seeing Eva? I mean, him and his friend are obviously peas in a pod."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean like—?" <i>Of course that's what she means.</i> "But if you're right they'll just break up anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course I'm right. But like you said, sometimes you see these funny couples. And Eva's— Well, she and her sister get these ideas. Gag, it must be because they're twins, they each get only half a good thought. But Eva might get it into her head to make some kind of example by pretending this guy is her boyfriend. Like it's just so cool of her. And then we'd be stuck with them."<br/>
<br/>
"Just let it go," you say stubbornly. "Leave Eva and this guy alone."<br/>
<br/>
Hurt and disappointment wash over her face. "I don't ask much of you, Gordon," she says. "Like, I don't ask you to do anything about Seth and Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with Seth and Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
A scarlet band shows across her forehead. "Jesus, Gordon! It's not like I haven't told you almost five thousand <i>fucking</i> times with them," she shrieks. "If my opinion— If everything I say to you—" She gets up and glares down at you; her complexion has curdled. "It really is in one ear and out the other with you! Except it isn't! Yeah, fuck me!" She stabs her at her own chest. "Fuck me for looking out for you! Fuck me for worrying about you!" Tears spring into her eyes, but she shows you her teeth. "Well, fuck you too!" She kicks you savagely. "And put on some goddam clothes!" She storms out, slamming the door behind her.<br/>
<br/>
You took all this calmly, for you don't know how else to take it. Anyway, it isn't like Gordon can't be even more enraged at you for getting his girlfriend pissed at him. Not after you let her suck you off.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Whoa, that's right!</i> Chelsea Cooper sucked you off! You put your arm behind your head and relax with a highly satisfied smile until the final bell rings.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're still in this attitude when you again hear footsteps on the stairs. They sound quickly, far too quickly for you to get dressed again, so it's with your shorts only draped across your lap that Steve Patterson finds you when he comes in. <br/>
<br/>
For a moment you feel completely naked. Which you practically are, of course. But this is worse. For several seconds you are convinced that he can see through the mask and see who you really are. You don't relax even when he leans against the door jamb. "Well, look who got laid," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You try to maintain a poker face—very hard, considering the glacier that's precipitating in your guts under Patterson's icy gaze—and say nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"So are you coming down to practice or not?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I'll skip. I actually don't feel good."<br/>
<br/>
"Suit yourself, but for God's sake don't tell Chelsea she made you sick." He goes back downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
You put your clothes back on, which is good, because ten minutes later, after the noise of practice starts—lots of balls slapping and yelling—the door opens again and Jason Lynch comes in. "Yo, what're you doing up here?"<br/>
<br/>
And that's when it occurs to you that maybe you should switch masks with Caleb. Let him bloody well deal with Lynch and Patterson and Chelsea (especially since the latter is now mad at you) and these psychos; after all, he's the one that got you into this mess. Besides, you did a pretty good job of playing "Caleb Johansson," and in that role you'd be better placed to guide Gordon through the role of playing <i>you.</i></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212
author_id: seuzz
title: A Shared Life
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Whyncha down there runnin' things?" Lynch asks as he closes the loft door behind him.<br/>
<br/>
Jason Lynch is one of those guys like Black and Patterson, who—<i>thank God!</i>—has never paid special attention to you. Sure, you've been caught in the bathroom by him, and if he's with Javits when Javits decides to torment Tilley, then Lynch might amuse himself with you. But it's not like he knows your name. You, on the other hand, know well the glint in his eye and his grin: it's like the glint of metal on the tip of an aluminum bat being swung at your face.<br/>
<br/>
He's got that glint now, and you have to strain not to flinch from it. You shouldn't be scared of him: he's friends with Gordon Black and, anyway, Black is almost a foot taller than him. But Lynch—who is captain of the baseball team—is broad and compact and built like a fire hydrant. He also has a tidiness, from his trim blonde hair to the tight cuffs of his jeans, that suggests a tightly coiled power.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't feel good," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea's cooking strikes again," he sniggers. He swaggers over. "Betcha'd like some o' my momma's soup, though. I could bring you some tomorrow. She made a new batch last night."<br/>
<br/>
"No thanks."<br/>
<br/>
He takes out two beers, and hands you one. "Yeah, well, anytime you wanna come over. My dad, you know—" He starts talking about his family in a way that presumes you know all about them while pawing through the porn collection. He pulls out one title for himself, and offers you another, which you decline. "You <i>must</i> be feeling bad," he chortles. You just keep quiet: a strategy that has worked so far today. But finally you are forced into something like a conversation when he says, "Oh, hey, Fernandez gave us some homework. You want the assignment?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'll— You got the assignment for Morales?"<br/>
<br/>
"Which one's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"The one you said you'd copy out for me at lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah. Uh, no. I had to do something else at lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"Right!" His eyes light up and he snaps his fingers. "I overheard something about— You were out at the portables? Who with?" he grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Some guy."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch freezes, and his eyes bulge a little. Then he starts giggling hard. "Sorry, man, it sounded like, for a minute— Never mind. Was it— You had to take him there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Ho-lee shee-ut!" he guffaws. "What'd he do? Fuck that, what'd you do to <i>him?</i> I mean, the portables, man, you don't—" He squats again, his eyes shining, expression raptly focused on you. "What was it, an eleven?" He taps one index finger with the other, in a way that looks meaningful.<br/>
<br/>
"It was a guy saying stuff about Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa!" He falls back on his ass. "What did he say about her?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." You don't like the topic, for obvious reasons. "Chelsea told me—"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>She</i> asked you to take care of him?" His mouth drops open. "Oh, fuck me, Gordon, <i>that's</i> how come you skipped Fernandez, innit? You lucky—" His grin is odiously sly. "And you said you were feeling sick. You're just wrung out from yer cookout." He fist-bumps your foot. "So who was the asshole? I mean, it's not like I'm lookin' for— But you know, if I can do Chelsea a favor, make her happy, I can add my own brand o' salt to his wounds."<br/>
<br/>
"Leave it alone. It's all done with."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh sure, sure. I'll go get you that stuff from Fernandez. You lucky dog." He scampers out.<br/>
<br/>
While he's gone, you quickly take out the phone and call Caleb. "Hey there yourself," he chirps in reply to your greeting. "Yeah, I got that, uh, that project almost done, you know, for class. I'll call you back in a bit, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, but I also wanna—"<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks, later dude." He hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Maybe Gordon was with him,</i> you speculate.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Lynch takes almost fifteen minutes to return, and he's got some kind of a handout for you. He starts to make himself at home, but when you say something about wanting to get a little work done—<i>alone</i>—he retreats with gratifying speed from the loft. On a loose sheet of paper you scribble down some notes on Gordon's life for Caleb—assuming he's willing to take it over for you, at least temporarily—until the sounds from the gym below have quieted. You're on the point of trying to sneak out when there are again footsteps on the stairs, and Patterson comes back in. His hair is damp and there's a flush in his face. "Fucking slugs," he says as he slams the door shut. "We'll be lucky if Garson doesn't hand us our asses. Are you <i>better?</i>" he asks sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
"I was about to head home," you say, getting up.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, fuck you too," he says as he bends by the refrigerator. "I do you a fucking favor, so—"<br/>
<br/>
"I got a phone call and I have to go."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever." He slams the refrigerator shut.<br/>
<br/>
You worry about additional gauntlets to run between the gym and the car, but things are well emptied out by now. You squeeze into the Bug's cabin and think about where to go. You can't decide, and just drive around until Caleb calls you back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Deep suspicion etches your friend's face. "Why would you wanna give up a sweet gig like this?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna give it up," you say, not quite dishonestly. "We could share it. Trade days off."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? So why don't we talk tomorrow afternoon after school? That'd give you a full day before—"<br/>
<br/>
"How soon were you gonna tell Gordon what's going on? How did you deal with him today?"<br/>
<br/>
"I caught up to him and dropped some big hints about which classes he was supposed to go to, arranged for him to come over to my house afterward."<br/>
<br/>
You're not at Caleb's house now, but are in the basement of the elementary school. It might be dangerous, being in the neighborhood where Gordon is temporarily living, but it's out of the public eye. "How was he acting," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Real quiet. He didn't freak out or anything, didn't run around trying to tell people who he was, that I could tell. He gave me some funny looks a couple of times, like maybe he thought I had something to do with it. But he didn't say anything much. He asked a couple of questions that were kind of leading."<br/>
<br/>
"Is he going to be able to handle it at my house?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what you're worried about, that I can't keep him out of trouble? I think I can do a better job of it. You'll just crowd him because you're so panicked."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'll stick it out here then," you shrug. "Since you don't want Chelsea Cooper giving you blow jobs."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea Cooper isn't—" His face falls. "Is she?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean 'Did she?' don't you? And the answer is, 'Uh huh'."<br/>
<br/>
"When?" he croaks.<br/>
<br/>
"Sixth period, up in that loft. I went up there after you left, and she came in. And she sucked me off and then we spooned until the bell rang."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb turns a bright red, and his nostrils twitch. "What's the catch?"<br/>
<br/>
"Catch is that maybe you have to go out with her tonight, with Kendra and Rachel Burton and a couple of guys."<br/>
<br/>
"That ain't bad." Still, he looks suspicious.<br/>
<br/>
"Nope. And I even made up a list of all the stuff I figured out about him." You hand him that piece of paper. "And you can probably find out a lot more at his house."<br/>
<br/>
"I still don't get why you're willing to give it up."<br/>
<br/>
You almost come clean with him, that the stress of pretending around Chelsea and Patterson and Lynch was more than you want to handle in one day. But that'll probably only make him more suspicious. Anyway, you <i>don't</i> want to give up the Gordon-gig totally, and would like it back. "I had a good afternoon," you say. "And I don't wanna hog things. I had my fair share right away. You take things over until tomorrow after school, and then unless you've set up another blow job with Chelsea, I'll take over again for a day."<br/>
<br/>
"And there aren't any catches?"<br/>
<br/>
"The only catch I can see," you say, "is that I don't know how we're gonna handle the basketball stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean? Can't you handle a ball?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you confess. "I didn't have time to find out, and I just told everyone I was sick and sat it out up in the loft."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. So I guess that'll be one of my projects tonight, figuring out—"<br/>
<br/>
"So you'll do it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright. Of course, if I find out you're pulling some kind of double-cross, I'll be in Gordon's body and I'll be able to fuck you up good." He opens a desk and takes out a mask. "Put that in Gordon's bag, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's it for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Get a copy of Chelsea, naturally," he chortles. "I cancelled the date with Umeko last night and finished up the other two masks. In fact—" He takes out a second mask. "Pack this too, in case Gordon has a little brother or sister."<br/>
<br/>
The confession about Umeko reminds you: "What is, uh, Will going to do about his date tonight with Lisa?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shrugs. "Up to you. I 'reminded' him of it this afternoon, but I don't know if he's gonna follow through. I guess it's up to you whether to give him another push, or maybe pull him back. If you're gonna do anything, though, we better get switched."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb masks and dresses as Gordon, and you get a sense of what he went through when you awoke in Gordon's body: the intimidating size and implied violence that comes with seeing him up close. He sways a little on his feet, and stumbles on the steps as he goes out. Then you drop his mask onto your face. And when you wake, you ponder whether to go see your best friend, Will Prescott.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122
author_id: seuzz
title: A Tale of Two Eavesdroppers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You make a compromise with yourself. After going back "home" and eating with your "mother"—<br/>
<br/>
During which you entertain her by talking a lot about school, and about Will and Keith and other friends, and about teachers and assignments: stories not all of which are untrue—<br/>
<br/>
After dealing with home life you drive out to the IHOP for some coffee and to do some kind of studying, since it looks like you're going to be responsible for much of Caleb's homework for the rest of the week. <i>Just get through Friday,</i> you tell yourself as you try to make sense of the Calculus. <i>Then we'll have a talk with Gordon after school, give him the weekend to cool down, and go back to something more normal.</i><br/>
<br/>
You hope you have a normal life to go back to. Not just with your parents, but with Lisa. That's the "compromise" you've made with yourself: after giving "Will" and Lisa time to get together at the library, you'll sneak over there to have at least a quick peek to see if they're there and what they're getting up to.<br/>
<br/>
No way they'll be getting up to what you and Chelsea got up to, you kind of hope.<br/>
<br/>
You don't intend to be at IHOP long, but you're there long enough to get caught. As you're bent over one of the harder problems, pulling at your hair, a hand firmly claps your shoulder. "So this is the secret of your natural brilliance," Carson Ioeger says, and slips into the booth across from you. "Lots of studying and lots of caffeine." James Lamont slides in next to him. <br/>
<br/>
They're a contrast, if not much of one. Both are tall and skinny, but Ioeger has blonde, frizzy hair that looks unhealthy for often being wrapped under a bandana, while Lamont's hair is dark and only slightly disordered. Ioeger's grin is devilish; Lamont's is tighter, more modest. Both dress down in t-shirts and jeans, though tonight, as a precaution against falling temperatures, Lamont is wearing a blue fleece jacket. Smart guys, both of them, but not in the well-scrubbed, hyper-ambitious style of Mansfield or the other AP snots. Much more like Caleb himself, with whom they share several classes, including AP Physics.<br/>
<br/>
And that's what they want to talk to you about, to your dismay. "What did we miss in Krohling?" Ioeger asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Why, weren't you there?"<br/>
<br/>
They look at each other and guffaw. "So you didn't notice?" Lamont asks. "I hope Krohling didn't notice either."<br/>
<br/>
Of course you didn't notice: You were up in the loft with Chelsea that hour and Caleb was playing his own part. "Uh, same stuff as before, I guess," you say, and rummage through Caleb's pack for the books and notes. "But a little more."<br/>
<br/>
"But what was the homework assignment?"<br/>
<br/>
You flip through his notes until you find the physics section, and thrust it at them. Meanwhile, Ioeger has craned his neck to look at the math you're working on. "Jeez, man, they spike your coffee or something?" He grabs your current sheet and turns it around. "What happened to your handwriting?" He shows it to James.<br/>
<br/>
You snatch it back. "I'm just, you know, scribbling things out."<br/>
<br/>
"You got that right." Ioeger nudges his friend. "Aren't you the one always going on about how neat Johansson's handwriting is?"<br/>
<br/>
"I might have mentioned it once."<br/>
<br/>
"So where were you guys last period?" you hastily ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Being sick," says James, and Carson keels to the side with asthmatic laughter. "We'll tell you about it sometime. After we graduate. From graduate school."<br/>
<br/>
That sends Ioeger into another brief spasm of intense laughter. "Oh but seriously," he says as he straightens up again. "That reminds me." He puts his elbows on the table and peers intently at you. "How's Prescott doing?"<br/>
<br/>
Your brain races in about six different directions at once but reaches no conclusions. "Should he be in any trouble?"<br/>
<br/>
Ioeger cocks an eyebrow. "No psychological damage?"<br/>
<br/>
"From what?"<br/>
<br/>
The other two look at each other. Then Carson leans forward. "We heard Gordon Black took him off behind the portables at lunch," he says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. That. How did you hear—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, man, there were only about a hundred kids who saw them. You know Gordon, he always puts on a show."<br/>
<br/>
"Will's fine," you tell them. "I think Gordon just put that show on to give him a scare."<br/>
<br/>
"What did he do to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't there. And Will didn't say anything to me about it."<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't look traumatized?" James asks.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure how to play this; there might be advantages to being "traumatized" when you get your life back. "I dunno. Maybe something <i>did</i> happen. He didn't say much to me."<br/>
<br/>
They share another glance. "Obviously it would be best if nothing did happen," Carson observes slowly. "Do you know what it was about? James and I have a lot of experience with Gordon, but isn't this a first for Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure you want them investigating that whole incident. "I think it had something to do with Chelsea," you say. And you instantly regret it when they high-five each other. "What was that about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell you later," says Carson, and pushes James toward the aisle. "After we graduate. From a ten-year post-doctoral fellowship. In Australia. Can we borrow this?" He brandishes the physics notes. "Awesome, we'll be over there if you need to pick them up." He and Lamont duck into the closed-off smoking section of the restaurant, and through the glass partition you watch as they lean in toward each other over a table, passing a single cigarette back and forth as they talk intently.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That blows your concentration, and after checking the time you decide to make that stop to look in on Lisa and her date. You leave without getting those notes back from the other two—through the glass you mime that they can keep them until tomorrow—and drive over to the library.<br/>
<br/>
The front doors of the Saratoga Falls Municipal Library open into a short breezeway and then into a vast, open semi-circle containing the periodicals section; this "old people's pit", as you and your friends call it, is flanked on two sides by doors leading into the wings that contain the actual stacks. It's rare to find any teenagers studying in the periodicals section, but you at least are able to survey it quickly to confirm that "Will" and Lisa are not there. Then you move into the wings to see if they are in the other study areas.<br/>
<br/>
After ten minutes of searching, you find them at the very back of the south wing, at one of a set of three tables by a bay window that overlooks a side courtyard. Lisa, looking very pretty in a purple blouse, sits with her elbows on the table and a pencil in her hand. Your substitute hunches in the seat opposite, hands under the table, staring intently at her. His cap is on the table.<br/>
<br/>
You quickly step into the stacks before they can see you, and edge your way around until you are behind the shelf nearest them. From this vantage point you can catch most of what they say without being seen.<br/>
<br/>
But there's little you can hear. Lisa's voice is soft, and Will talks in a low mutter. When your ears adjust, you can still barely make them out.<br/>
<br/>
Will: "But what are you going to do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
Lisa: "Find work."<br/>
<br/>
Will: "Like what? What can you do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
Lisa's voice drops too low to hear, except the word "teaching." Then: "—taking that career planning class."<br/>
<br/>
"Tss. Bullshit. Only reason I'm in it is because— There are all those guys out there that know what they're going to do, and how to get to it. And I don't. But that bullshit class isn't telling me anything."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not <i>going</i> to tell you anything, Will. It's just supposed to tell you how to figure those things out for yourself."<br/>
<br/>
Your doppelganger's voice dips into a peevish mumble, and Lisa's voice becomes impatient, as they talk about jobs and employment and education and ambition, with Will evincing a mulish and resentful inability to figure out what he wants from life, and Lisa sounding more and more disappointed by these confessions. You are soon ready to flee in horror, but the fascination of the ongoing train wreck keeps you rooted in place.<br/>
<br/>
You're stuck in this attitude when low voices sound behind you. You don't recognize them, though, until they're upon you, when to your horror you see Carson and James walking past. They don't see you, being concentrated on Lisa and Will. "'Lo you two," Carson says. "Imagine meeting you here." Lisa returns the greeting; if Will says something you can't hear it. Voices overlap, so that though they're loud enough you can't disentangle the words. When they do simplify:<br/>
<br/>
James: "—worried after hearing about you and Black. So what did he do?"<br/>
<br/>
James: "I'm sure he's done it to us. Black's ingenious, but even he repeats himself."<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "Did he have Patterson or Lynch with him? Anyone? Then it couldn't have been the Indian rope trick. Any bruises on you?"<br/>
<br/>
Will: "—fucker."<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "Hey hey, sorry, I won't touch. Is it tender, is that where he—?"<br/>
<br/>
Will: "He didn't do anything, alright? He just shoved me inside one of the portables."<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "No. Really?"<br/>
<br/>
James: "Did he at least tell you what your blasphemy was?"<br/>
<br/>
Lisa: "Will, did you—?"<br/>
<br/>
James: "He didn't say anything about Chelsea? Whoa. 'Cos you know that's what it was about, right? What did you say to her?"<br/>
<br/>
Lisa: "What are you guys talking about? Will, what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "Ask Eva, she was there. I just wanna hear Prescott's side of it. Because according to Eva, Will here dropped some major tonnage on Chelsea, and then Gordon hustled him out to the portables and then didn't do anything. Which is pretty damn ballsy of Black if true, since he got a blow job from Chelsea out of it."</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222
author_id: seuzz
title: A Disastrous Date
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There's a silence from the group, then a confused conversation breaks out. Lisa's voice rings out clearly: "This is pointless, and I'm leaving." No one asks her to stay, and a minute later you glimpse her stalking away. Then you hear Carson: "You're basically one of us now, so I'll tell you." But though you lean in to listen, his voice drops so low you can't make out the words. He buzzes this way for awhile, with the occasional word from James. Will's voice rises at one point: "So what have you heard?" He sounds incredulous.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, this and that. You don't want to hear it when they've got female company up there being, you know, <i>female company,</i>" says Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"And the fucking jock talk is pretty boring, though sometimes hilarious. Jesus, the testosterone practically drips through the floorboards," says James.<br/>
<br/>
"But the best stuff is when Chelsea is on the rag," Carson says. "Oh man, some of the things she says to Gordon when she gets mad at him. It's always about her, and all the things she does for him, and how he doesn't appreciate her."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, he appreciates her for exactly what she's worth," says James. "Gordon might have muscle tissue where his cerebral cortex ought to be, but he's not a moron where <i>she's</i> concerned."<br/>
<br/>
"And listening to her talk about her friends." Carson laughs. "Gordon doesn't even say anything about that, just lets her go on and on, blah blah blah. I'd love to see the expression on his face, he's probably so bored by it. But come on, we've told you about this stuff, and we'll show you how to get in if you want. But what did he <i>do</i> to you?"<br/>
<br/>
You tense, wondering what "Will" is going to say. It's pretty clear that Carson and James have found a way to eavesdrop on Gordon and Chelsea—that's got to be the big secret they were talking about at the IHOP—and you can't imagine what Gordon is likely to say in reply to it all.<br/>
<br/>
And it does shock you when he only says, "Nothing. He, uh, carried me out to the portables and he slammed me against the wall of one of them. And then—" Silence. "Then he shoved me into one of the portables."<br/>
<br/>
A long silence. James, when he speaks, sounds very intense. "Really? Because if he did something really, uh, illegal to you, Will—" <br/>
<br/>
The following silence sounds very uncomfortable. And then you only know someone spoke because Will explodes: "No! Oh, Jesus!" Then a strange, soft sound, followed by a loud bark by Carson: "Hey, quit it! You— Goddamn it, Will!"<br/>
<br/>
"Get the fuck away from me," Will yells. "Cocksucking sons of bitches!" More of those soft sounds, which you now recognize as body blows of some kind, accompanied by more yelling by Carson and James. You retreat to a corner behind another shelf, and peek out. Carson and James, moving at a near run, retreat, with James nursing the side of his head. From Will's direction comes a long, choking stream of curses. You edge away, down the side wall, and find a hiding spot, where you sit for ten minutes before carefully venturing back out. You think you make it outside without being spotted; certainly you don't spot anyone you know.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend a sleepless night worrying about the morrow. What will your replacement do at school? How will he act? Will he even show up?<br/>
<br/>
You decide that you'll play it cool with him, treating things as though they're normal, but being patient with him if starts acting like he did last night with James and Carson. You get to the school early, and hang around close to the parking lot watching for your truck. It doesn't pull in until about five minutes before the bell would ring. You saunter out to meet him. "Cutting it kind of close this morning, aren't you?" you ask with what you hope is a careless insouciance. Will just gives you a dark look and mutters something.<br/>
<br/>
You gamble on bringing up the subject of Carson and James: "Unless you especially wanna hang around with Jenny or Paul, let's just go off the two of us at lunch, maybe with Tilley. I've been seeing too much of Ioeger and Lamont lately."<br/>
<br/>
He looks over at you sharply. "Why do you say that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? 'Cos it's true?" You affect a blank ignorance of any other possible reason. "I ran into 'em at IHOP yesterday. They begged some notes off me and were pumping me about— Well, about you and Black yesterday. Fuck 'em for being nosy."<br/>
<br/>
His eye is hot, and his lip is curled back, and he shows his teeth as he breathes through his mouth. It's not a look you're used to seeing on your friends' faces, and you doubt it's one you often show them.<br/>
<br/>
"So I figure they might try asking <i>you</i> about it, and I kind of figure you might not want them to."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow. "Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Do you? They've got lots of experience with Black and them, maybe you do wanna talk to them. But they can be kind of jerks about things, and they kind of pissed <i>me</i> off yesterday while talking about you."<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you as you a little longer. "That's fine," he says. "I'm sick of them too." He starts trudging toward the school.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, how was your date last night with Lisa?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine."<br/>
<br/>
"You make any progress with her?" You nudge him. "Is Mansfield yesterday's news?"<br/>
<br/>
He says nothing for minute. Then: "We got interrupted and she left. I don't care."<br/>
<br/>
You stop cold. "You don't—?" He stops and stares dully back at you. You resume walking. "Well, shit, man. If you wanna talk about it at lunch—"<br/>
<br/>
"I won't want to."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's a tough life," you casually observe.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Lisa coos and giggles at Geoff before and after Walberg's class, which would royally piss you off if you didn't have much bigger worries about the guy slumping in the chair the next row over. Walberg speaks sharply to him once, but Will just shrugs and slumps lower in his chair. After first period you give him a little nudge toward his second period class ("Hope you do better in Hawks's Film class") and go to Caleb's AP Calculus. <br/>
<br/>
James is in there, and he's got a big purple bruise on his upper cheek. "What happened to you?" you ask. It must be from Will last night, but you can hardly believe someone with your old body has the capacity to put that kind of mark on someone else.<br/>
<br/>
"I ran into someone who didn't want to run into me," James says without looking at you.<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't Gordon Black, was it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pff. <i>No.</i> And I don't want to talk about it."<br/>
<br/>
Gelding's Chemistry is next, and you're really dreading it, for it will be the first time you've been to it: on Monday you skipped, and on Tuesday and Wednesday Caleb took it back over. But something intervenes before then.<br/>
<br/>
You go looking for Will, so you can prod him toward the Career Planning class you've got third period, and you've just glimpsed his head in the mass when he abruptly vanishes. There are some shouts, and a girl shrieks. You push forward, fighting a crowd that suddenly wants to be far away from where you're trying to get. When you break through, you see Will, pressed against a locker, with Jason Lynch grinning at him. "—teach you to talk nice to women folk," Lynch is chortling.<br/>
<br/>
That's bad enough, and your sphincter tightens. But then comes the real surprise.<br/>
<br/>
Will goes very red in the face, and launches a blizzard of blows at Lynch: sucker punches to the face, rabbit punches to the torso, even a knee to the groin. Lynch falls back—clearly shocked—and Will chases him, shoving him so that he trips over another student, landing on his back. Will drops atop him and with his fist tries turning the baseball players' face into hamburger.<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, at that moment a larger figure leaps in: Chris Ratliff, one of the football players, and a very big guy. He yanks Will back and closes him in a bear hug, and he kicks Lynch away when the latter tries to get up. Mr. Gelding, whose room is nearby, comes out, yelling hard. You backpedal,  not wanting to get caught up in it all. <br/>
<br/>
But you only get about ten feet down the wing when you run into a monolith of muscle: Gordon Black.<br/>
<br/>
He seizes you and hustles you outside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"We can't let him out <i>now!</i>" you yell. In the back of your head you recognize how ridiculous it is that you're screaming at Gordon Black. But the front of your brain recognizes him as Caleb. And you're back in that silly portable, so you're both safe.<br/>
<br/>
"A guy who looks like <i>me</i> just tried punching Jason Lynch's head through the floor!" you continue. "And Gordon knows that Chelsea gave 'Gordon' a blow job yesterday, and that James and Carson have been eavesdropping on him! We're all <i>dead</i> if Gordon gets his body back. Especially <i>me!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Then you can continue as Gordon," Caleb yells back. "Take it, all of it, 'cos I don't want it!"<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna take over 'Will Prescott's' life?" you demand. "'Cos <i>I'm</i> not, not until—"<br/>
<br/>
"Let Gordon keep it. You just take over his spot and let me go back to being—"<br/>
<br/>
"And what's wrong with Gordon's life? It can't be worse than—"<br/>
<br/>
"His dad! And Chelsea! And Patterson! I had to fake pulling a muscle this morning because these stupid mitts of his—" He waves his arms about. "I don't know how to run them. And maybe you don't care if Gordon fucks up your academic work, but you can't keep fucking up mine!"<br/>
<br/>
Then the door opens and a cheerful voice sounds. "Ay! Guys," exclaims Dane Matthias. "I thought I heard voices. You hangin' out here this period? Cool!"</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222
author_id: seuzz
title: Deep Disguises
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The idea comes to you so fast that it doesn't even formulate before you're acting on it. So even as Gordon barks, "Get out of here, Matthias," you grasp Dane by the wrist and draw him in.<br/>
<br/>
"No, come in here, glad to see you," you tell him, and give him a quick hug and slap on the back. You choke a little as you do so, for Dane smells like he's been burning a field of marijuana the size of Connecticut. You kick the door closed behind him. "I saw you out here yesterday, wanted to see you again."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, that's pretty freaky," he gasps. "'Cos yesterday I was thinkin' about— Something."<br/>
<br/>
You look around his ear at Gordon, whose expression of incredulity and confusion is clear even in the dim interior of the portable. "You have one of those blank masks with you?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he says slowly. "One. I used the other to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, why don't we—" You jab a finger three times at his face, then jab it three times at Dane. "And then—" You jab a finger at Dane three times, then stab at your own face.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's eyes go very round. "No."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you guys mind if I call Semple?" says Dane. His mouth is muffled in your shoulder. "Him and me were—"<br/>
<br/>
You tighten your grip on Matthias. "Come on dude, it's perfect," you say to Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
Dane answers: "Yeah, but— Oh, fuck me, I can't reach my phone." He wriggles weakly in your grasp. <br/>
<br/>
"You're out of your fucking mind," says Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
"No, really, I can't," protests Dane.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen to him, listen how perfect it is," you say. "He won't care where he winds up. And I can hide out as him, and you can go back to being—"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Will! Listen to yourself! What about your own life?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's already in the shitter! This is a perfect way for me to start over again!"<br/>
<br/>
Dane shifts his head, and his coarse hair rubs against your cheek. "Hey, who's back there? I love you too, man, but I can't get to my clip—"<br/>
<br/>
"We only do this until we figure something else out," says Gordon as he unzips his pack. "Maybe there's something in the book— We need to figure out that next spell." He takes out a mask, and you release Dane, who turns around.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, is that somethin' special?" Dane asks as Gordon advances on him. "I got some— I <i>think</i> I got some—"<br/>
<br/>
He sinks heavily in your arms as Gordon puts the mask onto him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A three-way swap follows, conducted at a frenzy. First you divest Dane of his usual costume: a t-shirt; a smelly, moth-eaten sports coat of ancient lineage; flannel pajama bottoms cut off just below the knee; and lace-less canvas sneakers. Then, while Caleb—still in Gordon's form and garb—watches the front door, you pull of Caleb's mask and clothes. Darkness hardly has a chance to enfold you when you're choking and gasping and sitting up: Caleb has pinched your nose shut and covered your mouth with his hand. He hands you a brush and a plastic container of sealant, and you huddle next to Dane until the mask comes out of him. Caleb returns to stand before the door. "Who did you use that second mask on?" you ask him as you paint the inner surface of Dane's mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea, of course," he says. "She was mad at me when I got to her house, and she was <i>really</i> mad at me when I left. I thought you said she gave you a blow job."<br/>
<br/>
"She did."<br/>
<br/>
"So why was she yelling me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't remember. Something I said or I didn't say. Who were you planning on using the other mask on? I mean, you brought it today."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Somebody, if I saw a chance. But then you saw one first. Jesus, Will, you are <i>really</i> fucking people up."<br/>
<br/>
"You started it."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't take that tone with me, fucker. Maybe I started it, but I didn't let it get out of control."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure you did, when you jumped on Gordon. And <i>you</i> wanted to prank people with these things."<br/>
<br/>
"Prank people, not fuck up their lives, and <i>definitely</i> not fuck up our own lives by arranging for permanent body swaps!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you don't have to worry about that. Your career is okay, except for having missed Gelding's class today. Okay, I'm done here, I think." You blow on the inside of the mask. "You better get out of that thing so we can get it on Dane before he wakes up."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stretches out on the floor down the middle of the portable. You lay your fingers across his brow, and pull. The change—if it's visible at all—can't be seen in the gloom, but where Gordon Black had been lying it's now Caleb Johansson. As he'd done to you, you pinch his nose and mouth shut, and he comes out of the swoon with fists flying. One of them hits Dane, who makes a soft noise, and you hastily slap Gordon's mask onto his face. The change is again invisible.<br/>
<br/>
You hastily dress in Dane's clothes while Caleb pulls Gordon's clothes off and puts his own on. Then, near the front of the portable, he stands before the door while you hunch nearby and put the new mask to your face. Another dip into darkness—<br/>
<br/>
"Yah!" you exclaim, then yelp as your hand strikes something hard. Caleb grunts. You open your eyes. Caleb is rubbing his cheek.<br/>
<br/>
No time for apologies. Caleb pulls you to your feet and thrusts Dane's canvas bag—the one he brags about being made of hemp—at you. The stench of burnt weed fills your nostrils as you sling it over your head and settle it on your shoulder. Caleb slaps you on the side of the face. "Dope it up, man," he says. "Remember who you are now."<br/>
<br/>
For you are now Dane Matthias. And barring some unexpected shift in fortune, it looks like you'll be Dane Matthias for a good long time.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks outside first, then motions you that the coast is clear. Instead of following him, though, you dash over to the portable opposite and hide there. You've got a character to figure out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's nothing in your pockets except for two half-smoked joints, and you worry that you dropped things back in the other portable. But when you check Dane's bag you find a wallet and keys and a few loose bills. Either Dane has learned from bitter experience, or he just never got in the habit of littering his pockets, but he keeps everything safe inside this bag.<br/>
<br/>
<i>What else?</i><br/>
<br/>
No surprise that there's a blunt and a couple of joints rolling around in the bottom, along with three lighters and a book of matches. Two spiral notebooks, containing ... lots and lots of doodles. The best-executed are some closely detailed abstract designs of mazes and spirals, inside some of which are scrawled some unsolved math equations or strings of letters. There are also some attempted portraits, mostly of naked girls, but those are much cruder and all are unfinished. There is no evidence of homework or class notes.<br/>
<br/>
Books? A US history book, an algebra book, and a paperback sword-and-sorcery book. No clues about which particular classes these go with. <br/>
<br/>
A cell phone. It has lots of calls in the call list, but only three numbers in its directory: Marianne Matthias, Dwayne Macaulay, and Sandy Rothstein. Lots of selfies, though. Dane's expression is a constant in most of them: wide grin behind a multi-day crop of whiskers, and glassy eyes beneath a tangle of reddish-brown hair. You turn the camera on yourself, as you had with Caleb's driver's license, and practice the expression you find in the photos. "Hey. Ayy. Aaayyyyy! Dude. Oh, duuuuude." <i>What were some of the things he was saying earlier?</i> "Oh man, I—" You blink and try again, working for a little more of the puppy-dog you often see in his eyes. "Oh man, I can't reach my phone, I gotta call Semple." You turn your head this way and that, then close your eyes and roll your neck, loosening up. "Ay, <i>cool,</i> I thought I heard voices in here." <br/>
<br/>
<i>That's enough of that.</i> You're just wasting time because you're nervous. And you're nervous because—<br/>
<br/>
You shut off the phone and slump in the desk and try to relax.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Let it go, man.</i> You've no idea which classes you're supposed to have, which lunch period you're supposed to be at, what teachers you're supposed to have, which locker is supposed to be yours, or what its combination might be.<br/>
<br/>
<i>What, like, you think this is a problem?</i> You've seen Dane inside classrooms, so he doesn't spend the <i>entire</i> day skipping. But who expects him to be in them? And who'd lift an eyebrow if you ask them where you're supposed to be?<br/>
<br/>
You just gotta be <i>baked</i> when you do it.<br/>
<br/>
You dip into the coat pocket for one of the joints, but something flashes by the window outside, distracting you. It's gone, whatever it was, but you hurry over to the window and look out. Across the way, the door to the portable where you left Dane is wide open.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> Well, it was going to happen sooner or later anyway. But Dane Matthias is now loose in Gordon Black's body. You slip a joint between your lips and pat your pockets for a lighter. <i>Unh. They're in the bag.</i> You glance out the window, torn between curiosity to see what's going on out there, and a desire to stay under wraps should the real Dane freak out at seeing a fake one running around.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222
author_id: seuzz
title: Dane's Daze
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You decide that whatever is going to happen to Dane without you will be better than whatever happens to him with you. Let him get settled in to his new body and identity—insofar as he <i>can</i> get settled in.<br/>
<br/>
You light the joint and suck in an experimental breath, and explode in a hacking cough as the acrid fumes hit the back of your throat. Tears spring into your eyes. It's nearly a full minute before you catch your breath, and another minute before you can take another hit. <br/>
<br/>
That one goes down easier, and so does the next one, but that's all you want to chance at the moment. You pinch out the joint and return it to your pocket; and maybe it's your imagination, but you might feel a little dizzier, a little more disoriented. The harsh smell off Dane's clothes, which had faded a bit as you'd got used to it, bursts out again, refreshed. <br/>
<br/>
You sling Dane's canvas bag over your neck and onto your shoulder as you step outside the portable. Voices—not near, not far—sound from somewhere in the area. You'd rather know who they are before joining them, so you turn back toward the main school building. At the edge of the last portable you carefully look out, in case the Gordon-disguised Dane is nearby. But the coast is clear.<br/>
<br/>
"Dane!"<br/>
<br/>
You jump and whirl at the shout from behind. Adrian Semple grins at you. "Don't freak out, dude," he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
Semple is dressed better than Dane, if torn jeans, t-shirt, and jeans jacket can be "better" than anything. His hair, which hangs in curls and kinks down to the top of his shoulders, is so dirty that the light brown has faded to something closer to gray. But his eyes are bright.<br/>
<br/>
"Ayyy, it's only you, man" you gasp, and throw your arms around him in a loose bear hug. "Where you been?" You try willing your IQ down by at least forty points.<br/>
<br/>
"Back there waiting for you," he points, and takes your elbow in his hand. "Did you get lost?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeaaaahhhh," you gasp in your best impression of Dane. "I heard voices and took a detour—" Adrian laughs. On a hunch, you decide on laying the predicate for a mutual body swap in case the real Dane should make a scene. "Did you see Gordon Black around here earlier?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," Semple says, and his tone is sharp. "Why, did <i>you</i> see him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I think so. It was pretty freaky."<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, it's only us back here," Semple says as you round a corner. <br/>
<br/>
Four people look up from the grass where they're squatting. There's Karl Hennepin, in his skinny jeans and skinny tie, with that stupid fedora. Brad Murphy, with the confused look of someone who's been slapped across the face with a fish and is wondering whether such an absurdity actually occurred or whether he only imagined it. A girl, whose name you can't place, in a sleeveless blouse and sleeveless vest decked over with beads and bangles, whose mischievous smile lights up a cherubic face. And the one who surprises you with his presence: Erik Carstairs, a spiky-haired blonde football player, and the only one with a joint between his lips. He grins at you through a veil of smoke, and hands it over to you. "Hey, thanks," you say. "I was wanting—" You close your eyes and tense all over as you take a toke, willing yourself not to cough. "Awesome." You hold it out to the middle of the group, and Adrian takes it from you.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not cool," says Brad. He's turned toward Hennepin and Carstairs, so you can't make out exactly who he's talking to.<br/>
<br/>
"Does it matter," asks the girl. "Are you having fun?" she asks one of the guys.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," Hennepin says with a shrug. "I mean—" He takes the joint from Semple and huffs from it. "Sure."<br/>
<br/>
"But who's paying for it?" Semple asks. "The motel rooms, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be crass," says the girl as she takes the joint from Hennepin.<br/>
<br/>
"The point is," Semple says, a little shrilly. "She's the one with all the money, and if she's ashamed to be seen with him—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who says she's ashamed?" says the girl. "Don't get me wrong, Kelsey's a cunt, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," says Semple. "Her and her friends. If she doesn't want 'em to know—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's real nice," says the girl. She takes another hit, and her eyes narrow behind the curling haze. "Telling your friend that his girlfriend's ashamed of him."<br/>
<br/>
"She's not his girlfriend, not if she's keeping him hidden inside motel rooms," Adrian retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what's not cool," says Brad. "The way she's hiding it."<br/>
<br/>
"And if he's having fun?" the girl repeats. She hands the joint over to Carstairs.<br/>
<br/>
"What if it was the other way around," Semple asks. "What if it was a guy who wanted the girl to keep it secret? Oh, and he made the girl pay for everything?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not—!" The girl shrugs tightly. "And if the girl says she's having fun, then why isn't it okay?"<br/>
<br/>
Semple laughs—a whinny like a horse. "I wonder what Kelsey would say if you asked her that question."<br/>
<br/>
"She'd call it sexism," says the girl, "and she'd call it horrible. Because Kelsey's a hypocritical cunt."<br/>
<br/>
Semple laughs again, and gestures at Carstairs, who hands the joint—now almost depleted—back to him. But Adrian just gives it over to the girl. She takes it with a mischievous smile.<br/>
<br/>
"But man," says Carstairs with a leering laugh. "If Kelsey Blankenship let me park myself in her trunk for a little while, I'd put up with all kinds of cuntery.<br/>
<br/>
The girl punches Erik in the knee, though the football player hardly seems to notice. "You're talking about Karl's ... <i>lady friend,</i>" she says lamely.<br/>
<br/>
The bell rings, ending third period. No one moves, until Semple looks over at you. "Are you <i>skipping,</i>" he asking.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, I dunno," you reply. "What's my next class?"<br/>
<br/>
Semple and Hennepin both laugh. "History."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Right." There are several history teachers, so that only narrows the range down.<br/>
<br/>
Semple's expression grows even more merry. "You know. Walberg."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>shit.</i> Not really?" Lots of laughter at that. You get uncertainly to your feet. "I guess I better go, then." No one stops you. "See you guys around. I guess."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You almost turn back or head in another direction when you realize that the real Dane might be inside, waiting for class to begin, but you press on, though watching carefully. You don't run into anyone, and no one untoward looks into the classroom before it starts. You do get kicked out of three different desks before landing in the one Dane usually takes, but your presumption doesn't seem to offend anyone. It does interfere with your sending a text to Caleb, though, saying you want to see him at lunch. He replies that it can't be done: "Keeping an eye on Will." Silently, you concede that should be a priority.<br/>
<br/>
At lunch you get a quick bite in the cafeteria, and prowl the school grounds, keeping an eye out for the guy who replaced you—Gordon Black as Will Prescott—and the guy you replaced—Dane Matthias as Gordon Black. You don't spot either one, and aren't sure whether to be pleased or not by this.<br/>
<br/>
You spend the rest of the day in the library—being extremely bored—because you don't get any real help in figuring out your class schedule, except from one unexpected source at the very end of the day, and that comes in a bad way. You're loping through the hallways, looking for someone who might help you get into Dane's locker—if you can even figure out where it is—when a hand catches and tugs you into a room. Mr. Trencher, the art teacher, smiles at you with gentle gravity. "I missed you today, Dane," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you normally don't skip <i>mine.</i>" He sounds genuinely disappointed.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh wow, I did miss it, didn't I? I got kind of confused."<br/>
<br/>
"I bet. You will be in class tomorrow, won't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. What time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Class time, Dane," he says, and lets you go.<br/>
<br/>
That's a disappointment to you too. You had Trencher your sophomore year, and you liked him a lot, though you didn't exhibit any talent for his subject matter. But that's a lead on another class. Maybe by the end of the month you'll be able to figure out your new schedule.<br/>
<br/>
The encounter with Trencher is followed by an encounter of a much worse sort. You're still roaming the halls when <i>another</i> hand—this one stronger and rougher—pulls you into a classroom. You freeze at finding that it's Mr. Walberg. He glowers at you and raises an eyebrow. You return his stare with a wide-eyed one of your own. Then with a snort he stabs a finger at a desk. "Sit."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes sir."<br/>
<br/>
You wait expectantly, but he says nothing else, and a few minutes later he leaves. He's gone quite a while, and you wonder if you can or should leave, but he returns first, and pays no attention to you, but works at his desk. You squirm and look around, and are on the point of asking several times what he wants. But he resolutely ignores you, until after fifteen minutes he looks up and growls, "If you haven't got anything to study you can at least be still."<br/>
<br/>
That's when it dawns on you: <i>You're in detention!</i> With a groan, you put your head on the desk.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's an hour before you can go. On the way out you call Caleb, but the talk is short as he tells you gruffly that he's "hanging out with Will." It's beginning to sound bad. And that leaves you feeling in a bit of a pinch. If you hang out at the school, in the company of Semple or others of his ilk, you can likely easily get away if Caleb calls back. But it might be better to check out Dane's house, even though you might not be so easily able to escape it.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222
author_id: seuzz
title: Dane's Domicile
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't run into anyone on the way out of the school, so you follow the path of least resistance; it (and you) wind up in the parking lot. But not until you're staring into it do you realize you don't even know which car is Dane's.<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, there are very few left to choose from; most of the remaining ones look too nice to be Dane's; by examining the key you narrow the range of possibilities down further; and the key fits the lock of the first one you try. <i>Whew!</i><br/>
<br/>
It's a rusted-over sedan that's at least twenty-five years old, and out of it rolls an overpowering stench of stale weed, mold, dirty clothes and ... Jesus, did someone take a shit in the back seat or something? You hold your breath as you settle in; then find that the windows won't roll down. So you breathe through your mouth until you get used to the stink. <br/>
<br/>
On the dashboard are a pair of sunglasses. You try them on and look in the rearview mirror. Hey, you look pretty cool!<br/>
<br/>
You start the engine. Either it's lost its muffler or the muffler is broken, because it sounds like a cross between a jet engine and a lawnmower. You gun it a couple of times, and the stench of gasoline mixes with the other odors in the cabin. You put it in Drive and—<br/>
<br/>
You stand on the brake while fishing out Dane's wallet; you check the address on the driver's license; you blink, trying to place the street. With a sigh you look it up on his phone.<br/>
<br/>
Oh boy. He lives in a trailer park.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The car groans and sputters and sighs when you turn it off, and it shudders massively, like a wet dog shaking itself all over You struggle out and onto your feet.<br/>
<br/>
"Dane! Dane!" Chirping, excited voices call from the tiny yard in front of a trailer across the way: three half-naked kids, jumping up and down, grinning and waving. You grin and wave back, and hope that's enough for them. They seem satisfied, and don't call anymore as you lope toward the trailer that is apparently to serve as your home base.<br/>
<br/>
The yard—what there is of it—is overgrown with weeds poking up around bottles and cans and bits of cardboard boxes. You mount sagging wooden steps. Before opening the door, though, you take the precaution of lighting a joint and putting it between your lips. If this isn't Dane's place, the joint will give you a ready-made excuse for walking into the wrong trailer.<br/>
<br/>
The door squeaks as you open it. You blink into the darkness beyond, then step inside. Is it the hit you just took, or does the floor seem to slant down in one direction?<br/>
<br/>
You're standing in a tiny entry space, with a kitchen to your left, a living room to your right, and a cheap folding table directly in front of you. The kitchen has a refrigerator and a sink full of dirty dishes and some crusted over countertops. In the living room is a sagging, dark brown sofa and a ketchup-colored beanbag; the space between is filled with clothes. Curled on the sofa is a middle-aged woman. You tiptoe up and peer closely at her. She has dark reddish hair and lots of freckles. You decide that between her coloring and the general shape of her features, she must be Dane's mother.<br/>
<br/>
An acrid smell of burnt marijuana hangs in the room.<br/>
<br/>
On the other side of the kitchen is a hallway, and you explore it, finding a tiny bathroom with an even tinier shower, and two bedrooms. You're pretty sure the smaller of them is Dane's, for it seems unlikely that his mom would be hanging posters of half-naked girls in bondage gear on the walls. A small desk is also covered with school books, papers, and a couple of half-eaten sandwiches. You open the window and toss the latter outside for the birds.<br/>
<br/>
So, as the woman of the house seems passed out, you take advantage of the solitude to explore Dane's room a little more. No computer of any kind; in fact the only electronics are an ancient CD player and some tiny speakers. It sits on a warped chest of drawers, in the top drawer of which is a muddled stack of CD cases. Inside them are shiny CDs, unlabeled except for those few that have "MIX" scrawled across them with a thick magic marker. The rest of the drawers hold some badly folded clothes. More clothes—dirty—litter the floor.<br/>
<br/>
With a deep sigh, you settle down to sort through the school work. There's a French I book and couple of trade paperbacks about health and family finances. The papers are covered with half-completed math problems, or the start of essays that peter out after five or six words. Lots and lots of doodles of the spiral kind, though. After putting those aside, you dive into some very messy binders and notebooks, going through them page by page. Slowly, a sketch of Dane's academic life emerges.<br/>
<br/>
Then—blessedly!—it comes into sharp focus when you find his official class schedule from the start of the year:<br/>
<br/>
<div class="bquote">1. Intermediate Algebra -- Simeon<br/>
2. Entrepreneurship -- Peters<br/>
3. French I -- Henderson<br/>
4. US History -- Walberg<br/>
5. Lunch<br/>
6. Reading for Pleasure -- Gladstone<br/>
7. Art II -- Trencher<br/>
8. Family and Consumer Sciences I -- Duggan</div><br/>
The sheet also includes a locker number and combination. You sigh with deep relief, and tuck the sheet into Dane's bag. Then, as a further precaution, you take it back out and copy the information onto yet another sheet, which you put in his top drawer.<br/>
<br/>
You're feeling hungry by now, and return to the kitchen. The refrigerator contains lots of little plastic containers with little bits of food in them: most of them look like portions of cooked vegetables, and most of them smell pretty rank. You are forced to content yourself with some slices of baloney and white bread.<br/>
<br/>
You also get yourself a glass of water, and the dishes shift, clattering loudly. A noise comes from the living room, and you look over to find the woman blinking stupidly without raising up. She says something you can't make out, so you go over. "Whatdja say?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She rubs her eyes. "Dwayne called," she says sleepily. "He wants you to call him back."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dwayne." She smacks her lips, and nestles back down into the cushions. You barely make out her last words: "It's important."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, shit.</i> Dane's probably not the type to act on any message given him, even one marked urgent. On the other hand—you tear off another bite of the sandwich—what if it's about food? Someone has to take care of these two potheads, and maybe it's him.<br/>
<br/>
But who is "Dwayne"? And what's his number? And if he wants to find Dane, why is he calling here and not Dane on his cell?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Dane's cell.</i> You check it again. Sure enough, Dwayne Macauly is one of the names in the call list. You almost touch the call back button, but since he called this place, you grab up the phone hanging on the wall in the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
The line on the other end burrs three times before picking up: "Yeah?" answers a sharp voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Heeeyyyy, Dwaaaayyyyne," you drawl cheerily.<br/>
<br/>
A long pause. "Hang on." Indistinct voices. Then a new one, even more rough and rude and impatient: "Where the fuck have you been?"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart skips. "I's at school," you gasp. "I had detention with my history teacher."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I give a shit. Come over, I've got some more stuff for you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Stuff?</i> You don't like the sound of that. "Uh huh. Where are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Clear the fucking fumes from your brain. My place. Move." The line cuts out.<br/>
<br/>
Dwayne, whoever he is, does not sound like someone to fuck around with, and it sounds like he doesn't cut Dane any slack.<br/>
<br/>
But where do you find this guy?<br/>
<br/>
Lucky for you—or maybe not—you're able to track him through his phone number. You really don't like the address you find.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Dane Matthias may live in a poor part of town, but Dwayne Macaulay—if this is the right place—lives in the worst part: the industrial area on the north side of town. The house are all made of white-washed cinderblock, and most of the windows are barred or boarded over, and the few people sitting out stare with beady eyes as you drive past. Dwayne's address is just like the others: a cheap, weather-discolored shack so small it is practically cube-shaped, with a single door in the middle flanked by two tiny windows. The curtains are shut behind metal bars.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly you make your way up a cracked sidewalk. The door opens before you can knock, and the man who opens it pulls you quickly inside.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221
author_id: seuzz
title: Dane's Deals
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Dwayne Macaulay is small and wiry and strong, dressed in dirty jeans and a dirty denim shirt. He looks like he's in his late twenties, and there's a rodent-like cast to his face: small mouth and pointed nose, with a trim, bristly blonde moustache between them. His eyes are dark, and he stares at you with a pinched expression.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow your doubts, and try putting on Dane's usual blustery cheer. "Hey man, thanks for calling!"<br/>
<br/>
He flashes the tiniest, briefest of smiles—which does nothing to make him look any more friendly—and gives you a hard clap on the shoulder. Abruptly, he turns back toward a small table. In that moment you glance around.<br/>
<br/>
It really is a one-room place: along one wall runs a small countertop with a sink under a cabinet, next to a refrigerator. Wedged against the other wall is a low, narrow bed. On the third wall is a flimsy wardrobe and a chest of drawers, atop which sits a cheap TV. A door leads into a small bathroom. In the middle of the room is a table.<br/>
<br/>
A wooden half-crate is sitting atop it, next to some brown paper sacks. Dwayne hands you the crate, and you blink dumbly into it and the small metal briefcase it contains. Dwayne gives you a very meaningful stare. "You know where to put it, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ..."<br/>
<br/>
He grabs a hank of your hair and pulls hard. "You know where to put it, right?" he repeats in a much tighter and rougher voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Ow ow ow! Yes!"<br/>
<br/>
"Right, where you put it every month. You do put it in the same place every month, right?" <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" That seems like the best possible answer, for what other answer could you give him?<br/>
<br/>
"Good. I don't wanna any phone calls complaining that you've spaced out on me." He stares at you, and when you just blink he grabs you by the side of the head again. "Am I gonna get a phone call, Dane?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! I'll put it where—" You blink back tears as he releases you. "But, you know, just so I don't fuck up, can you tell me where you think I'm supposed to put it?"<br/>
<br/>
He raises his hand again, but drops it when you flinch. "That's your fucking business. I don't wanna know where you put it. Okay, this is for you." He holds up a package wrapped in brown paper. "See? I'm putting it in here." He drops it into one of the paper bags, then drops the paper bag into the crate atop the briefcase. You peek into it, and see lots of cheap canned goods and packaged foods. "You coming over on Saturday?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh—" You hesitate, but he makes no move. "Uh, I dunno man," you say. "Like, there might be something going on with, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," he says. His tone is still sharp and guarded, but a lot of the unfriendliness has dropped out. "Gimme a call if you wanna hang out, though." He claps you again on the shoulder, then hustles you toward the door. "Say hi to Aunt Marianne for me," he adds before slamming the door behind you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Jesus, Will, what do you <i>think</i> is in here?" Caleb says. His eyes are wide as he glares at the locked case. "Same kind of shit as over there." He nods at that brown paper package, which is now unwrapped, disclosing a small, tightly packed bundle of joints, tokes, and leaves. It's sitting on a table in the elementary school basement, for that's where you caught up to Caleb after leaving Dwayne's house.<br/>
<br/>
"I know Dane shares his stuff, but I can't picture Dane as a dealer," you object.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb glances up at you, and does a slight double take. "You have a point," he says. "Still less can I picture <i>you</i> pretending to be Dane-who-is-a-dealer. But what did this Dwayne guy say, exactly?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just to put it where I put it every month, and that he doesn't want to hear any complaints."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb chews on this. "Well, that's got to be it, right? Dane's not the dealer. Someone else is. And Dane—" He chews on it a little more, and his tone falters. "And Dane passes it along to the guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"So how come this Dwayne creep doesn't pass it along directly?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shrugs. "Maybe he can't. Maybe he can't get to—" A light breaks in his eye. "It's someone at school. That's it, he gives it to Dane, and Dane passes it to a guy at school."<br/>
<br/>
"But why go round-about that way?" you protest. "Why not just give it to the guy directly? I wouldn't trust Dane to make regular deliveries of toilet paper, let alone-- I don't think this Dwayne guy does, either, the way he was talking."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. But maybe it's someone who can't afford to be seen with this guy directly. Like, maybe Dwayne's a known distributor."<br/>
<br/>
"So it's Dane's ass—<i>my ass</i>—that's in the crosshairs," you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"How do you keep getting into these messes, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, it wasn't <i>my</i> idea to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure it was! You're the one who said, 'Put me in for Dane, coach, that's a safe place for—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm in this mess because <i>you</i> put me in for Gordon!"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>saved</i> you from Gordon!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and how's <i>that</i> working out?" you demand. "Which reminds me, what happened today, after that fight he had with Lynch?"<br/>
<br/>
"He got suspended," Caleb says, and that bit of news causes you to have to sit down. "Yeah, he busted Lynch's face pretty good, and I don't think he got a bruise on him. Except on his knuckles."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>Christ!</i> And what did my <i>dad</i> say? You went to see him after school, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. He's grounded, but he didn't tell me much. He's all moody, of course. I tried getting him to see things from our point of view, you know, reminding him of all the shit that the Molester and Chen and Kirkham do to us, and how we're actually lucky we've not run into Lynch and Patterson and Black before—"<br/>
<br/>
"You mentioned Gordon to him?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I want that fucker to know what it looks like from the other end. He didn't say anything, though."<br/>
<br/>
You're both silent for a bit before you raise the obvious question. "So what do I do with this thing?" You pick up the locked briefcase. "I don't want to take it to school. I don't even know that's where it's supposed to go."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb takes it from you, and studies it, then puts it in one of the desk drawers. "All the rest of our shit is here, this might as well stay here too. Until the person you're supposed to give it to comes looking for you."<br/>
<br/>
You cover your face with your hands. "Oh Jesus." Through your fingers you gaze at the workspace where you'd been making those masks. "Where's the book? The next spell, that's gotta have something in it that can help us."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm working on it," Caleb says. "Tomorrow I'll pick up the supplies. I didn't have time today, thanks to all the shit that went down."<br/>
<br/>
"Need any help from me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so. But try to meet me here tomorrow around five."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The evening passes quietly. Dane's mom accepts the appearance of the groceries as though it's a kind of magic that always happens, and in a lazy, dreamy way makes up some cheap noodles with jarred spaghetti sauce. Afterward, she lights up again, and in a casual maternal way shares it with you; you partake while laying in the beanbag, and drift off far further than you'd intended, so that it's nearly two in the morning before you stumble down to the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
The alarm shrieks you awake at seven o'clock, and after slapping it into silence you lay in bed for almost half an hour, trembling with exhaustion and trying to summon the strength and willpower to wake up. You finally haul yourself up, feeling weak and bloodshot and burned over; your mind is a jumble of gears with broken teeth that don't want to engage. Not even a shower can restore you, and out of desperation you smoke a good portion of a joint—which you find under the sink—after getting out. That leaves you feeling more mellow and human, at least enough to dress. You mix up the wardrobe a little, donning some torn up jeans that are cut off just below the knee, but otherwise stick to Dane's usual t-shirt and shabby sports coat. You stock its pockets with some of the shit that Dwayne gave you yesterday. In the bathroom after breakfast you study yourself in the mirror; you still look too freaked out, even after trying to relax, so you smoke down some more of that joint and slap yourself hard in the side of the head. "Hey man! Hey!" You practice a few more of those smiles, using Dane's selfies for reference, and when you feel you've settled into character lope out the door. Dane's mother is still asleep when you leave.<br/>
<br/>
You drive <i>very</i> slowly and carefully to school, arriving with only five minutes to spare. With long strides you hustle off toward Intermediate Algebra. No one pays any attention to you, not in the halls and not in the room after you drop into a desk, panting. No one seems to care that you're there.<br/>
<br/>
Until something big looms in the corner of your eye. You turn. Gordon Black stares at you from the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow. <i>Dane Matthias, in Gordon's body, has finally caught up to you.</i><br/>
<br/>
He breaks into a huge grin, and gestures you to follow him.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212
author_id: seuzz
title: Hit from All Sides
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Gordon Black—or, to be precise, Dane Matthias-trapped-in-Gordon Black's body—grins and gestures at you to follow him.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
A expression of huge disappointment washes over his face. He gestures at you again, more broadly.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head again, more vigorously.<br/>
<br/>
He clasps his hands in a begging gesture, and turns big puppy dog eyes on you.<br/>
<br/>
You have <i>never</i> seen Gordon Black acting this way. No one has, and heads begin to turn. They also quickly turn away, lest they be caught looking at him acting in this very goofy way.<br/>
<br/>
Ms. Simeon—a bird-like woman with long, dark hair that hangs to her hips—walks over to him. "Do you need something, Gordon?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
He blinks at her, and guffaws. "Oh man, this is so trippy," he exclaims. "You're so <i>tiny!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes I am," she replies in a brittle chirp. "And you're in the wrong room." She pushes at him—which is like watching a bird trying to shove a brick wall—until gets him out the door, which she closes in his face. But still he stares into the room at you through the narrow window, making goofy, pleading expressions. Not until after the tardy bell has rung does he disappear.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's going to find you, of course. He knows Dane's schedule, and he knows where Dane hangs out, he knows all that stuff better than you. He's probably totally lost as Gordon, and will be looking hard for you. So you skip second period and look for a place to hide.<br/>
<br/>
You first try the natatorium, but Coach Acuna kicks you out. Next you try for the weight room in the gym, but it's full of wrestlers. You edge around the back of the main building toward the agriculture stalls, but spot Gordon down at the other end, looking around, so you dive into F wing and skulk your way to the library. Maybe you can dodge him in the stacks if he comes looking in there.<br/>
<br/>
Carson Ioeger, deeply absorbed in some homework, occupies a table in the middle of the library, so you drop down next to him. "Hey, Ioeger, my favorite buddy," you gasp, and he looks up, startled. "You gotta hide me, man, I'm in deep shit."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's Gordon Black, man, he's on the hunt for me!"<br/>
<br/>
Carson blanches. "What makes you think I can hide you from big, dumb and dangerous?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's always after you and Lamont, I figure maybe you know places to, you know, <i>hide</i>."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow. "Why's he after you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno! I was just in my algebra class, 'cos, you know, I gotta go <i>sometimes,</i> man, or else, like, I'm gonna flunk—"<br/>
<br/>
Carson snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"And I look up and there he is in the doorway, like—" You mime the Frankenstein monster while keeping in your seat. "And he's all waving at me, trying to get me to follow him. And he's <i>grinning</i> at me, which is like fucked up scary!"<br/>
<br/>
Carson stares at you, then guffaws. "You don't know why he's after you, Dane? Christ!" He hurriedly looks around, realizing he's raised his voice too loud, then hunches in close to you. "He's lookin' to score some, you know—" Now he mimes, taking a hit on a joint.<br/>
<br/>
"No way, man! What makes you think that?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson looks around again, then pulls you even closer. "At practice this morning he was as high as, well, <i>you,</i> usually," he says. "You know how the basketball team has pre-class practice?" You nod. "Well, I heard—" His lips tickles as he buzzes quietly in your ear. "He was totally baked when he went in. Couldn't hit the fucking basket for nothing, couldn't bounce the fucking ball, just kept giggling. Patterson yelled at him or something, but he just laughed at him and went off somewhere."<br/>
<br/>
"You're shitting me!" Of course, you can easily believe it. "How'd you hear about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've got my sources. And yesterday— Didn't you see him yesterday? No? Well, he spent a big part of the afternoon with Semple and Gerard, toked up until he couldn't walk, I heard."<br/>
<br/>
"No, man, I didn't hear about that. So you think he wants—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure of it."<br/>
<br/>
"But I don't got any, 'cept what I keep here." You pat the pocket of your jacket, which is freshly supplied with what Dwayne gave you.<br/>
<br/>
"So share. You don't want him pissed at you."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna run into him."<br/>
<br/>
Carson leans back. "Sorry, man. It's not like I can carry you around in my back pack."<br/>
<br/>
"You sure? 'Cos—" You fiddle with the zipper on his pack; he slaps you away. Then his expression freezes as he sees something behind you. You turn to look.<br/>
<br/>
Steve Patterson—tall, strong, gray-eyed and glacial—has come in. His eyes contract into something as narrow and sharp and cold as an icepick. He stalks over and punches you hard on the side of the head. You yowl and duck, nursing and hiding your ringing skull. From your cowering crouch you watch as Patterson takes Carson's head in the crook of his arm and hustles him into a corner of the library. You can't hear what he says to your hapless friend, but he raises his knee sharply a couple of times, causing Carson to make some very quiet choking noises. After a minute of this, Patterson drops him. You hide your face, but as he passes he grabs you by the hair. You stifle a shriek as he half lifts you from the chair.<br/>
<br/>
"You stay the fuck away from Gordon, you fucking stoner," he hisses in your ear. "If I catch you even looking in his direction, I'll light your cock with a blowtorch and make you smoke it. Stay the <i>fuck</i> away from the basketball squad." He shoves you hard, cracking one of your ribs on the side of the table.<br/>
<br/>
After he's gone, you look up through the wet in your eyes. Carson is still hunched in the corner, breathing heavily and looking very red in the face, but after a minute he struggles to his feet and returns to the table. "Man, I think we're in trouble," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"You got that right," he says, and winces as he sits. "Now get the fuck away from me, Dane. You're dangerous to know."<br/>
<br/>
You try protesting, but he angrily picks up his stuff and moves to another table, leaving you sadly isolated.<br/>
<br/>
At no point during this drama did the other students in the library look up from their work; most of them buried themselves even more deeply in it; and even the library aide had ducked below the counter on some urgent business out of Patterson's eye line.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your dodge trouble during third period—at the cost of skipping Dane's French class—but it catches up to you with a vengeance during fourth. You're making your way toward Walberg's when strong hands seize you from behind and hustle you toward the outer doors. Your first thought is that it's Gordon—this is the way he caught you a few days ago—but you're not lifted in the air. Still, you're not eager to find out who's got hold of you, and just let yourself be carried along. You end up, as before, at the portables, shoved face-first into one of the walls. An agonizing punch to your kidneys drops you to your knees. "Where's the shit, Matthias?" an angry voice hisses in your ear.<br/>
<br/>
"Who's back there?" you ask in a bleating voice.<br/>
<br/>
Another punch to the kidneys. "Where's the shit, Matthias?" whoever it is demands, more roughly. "Where'd you put it, you fucked up shit-for-brains?"<br/>
<br/>
You try turning around, but only get a kick in the balls for your effort, which doubles you over. Your assaulter shoves your face into the grass. "It's supposed to be under there, you fucking doof! Where'd you fucking put it?" He grabs the back of your head and slams your face repeatedly into the dirt.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, he releases you, and choking and coughing you turn over to look up. You wipe your eyes, and the figure comes into focus.<br/>
<br/>
What little hope you had of getting out of this alive dies away. It's Gary Chen, Chinese-American gangbanger. You glance around fearfully, looking for David Kirkham, his comrade-in-bloodcurdling-douchebaggery, or one of their odious little pilot-fish. But it's only Chen at the moment. <br/>
<br/>
Something thick and viscous is dribbling down your nose. You snort it back, and taste blood. "Uh, hey man. You, uh, wanna know about the, uh, the shit?"<br/>
<br/>
A fell light comes into Chen's eye, and he raises a hard fist.<br/>
<br/>
"Shit! Shit! Don't!" You raise your hand to ward off the blow. "I got it, man, like, uh, here?" From your pocket you pull out the tokes you'd brought to school. <br/>
<br/>
Chen slaps them away, then punches you again. "I'm talking about a fucking metal briefcase, Matthias. What fucking day is it today? I already gave your fucking cousin his fucking money, so where the fuck is the shit he promised me?"<br/>
<br/>
Okay, you were pretty sure that's what this is about, and now that you've got confirmation— "Oh yeah, I got it, I mean, Dwayne gave it to me. It's just that, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
Chen pulls his foot back, readying to kick you in the face. But then he's distracted, and leaps around a corner. A shrill cry rends the air. You gape as he drags Adrian Semple back with him. Into Semple he lays double the fury he laid into you, and when you try to move he nails you to the ground with a glare.<br/>
<br/>
When Semple stops screaming, he's able to answer Chen's repeated question: "You know about this? What do you know about this?"<br/>
<br/>
"I saw Gordon out here earlier," Semple cries. "He was digging around under the portable." <br/>
<br/>
Now you notice a loose board by where you're crouching.<br/>
<br/>
"Black?" Chen asks, and white shows under his bronzed skin when Semple nods.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122
author_id: seuzz
title: Jobs Begun Badly, Then Bungled
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're pretty sure that Gary Chen can't hurt or frighten Gordon Black—<br/>
<br/>
Well, you're pretty sure he couldn't hurt or frighten the real Gordon Black, and that he knows that he can't hurt or frighten the real Gordon Black, so he wouldn't even try to hurt or frighten the person who's currently walking around acting like a stoned-out-of-his-head Gordon Black.<br/>
<br/>
So even when Chen rounds on you with some vicious blows—<br/>
<br/>
"You fucking moron! You goddamned, cock-sucking ass-for-brains, you let Gordon find where we've been putting the—! You are so fucking <i>dead</i> when I've calmed down!"<br/>
<br/>
—you don't confess you've got the stuff at another location. Let "Gordon" take the blame!<br/>
<br/>
Chen has a satchel—the twin of Dane's—hanging off his shoulder, and he ends the conversation (with a curse) by throwing it at your head and stalking away. You and Semple are left to stare wide-eyed at each other.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon found your secret stash?" Semple asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? Didn't you say he did?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just saw him poking around here." Semple takes the satchel from you and looks through it. He pulls out two joints from its depths, then notices another one on the grass. He scrambles around, collecting the ones that Chen had slapped from your hand. "I didn't know Gary knew about it," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I'm gonna have to move it," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, Gordon was acting real funny yesterday," Semple says after a moment's thought. "He hung out with us yesterday, last period and after, instead of going to practice."<br/>
<br/>
Of course you heard this from Carson, but you feign ignorance. "No way! Did he, you know—?"<br/>
<br/>
Semple nods. "He got really mellow, started going on and on about Chelsea and all the—" He swallows around a sudden grin. "All these fantasies about stuff he wanted to do with her, how he was gonna try doing it with her. It really freaked me and Tim out. We didn't know what to say."<br/>
<br/>
"Holy crap!" The thought of the Dane-run Gordon trying to talk—let alone get it on—with Chelsea Cooper leaves you dazed. Then you get to wondering what Gordon—watching things play out from Will Prescott's point-of-view—would think of Dane's antics in his body. <i>Oh, but Gordon's trapped at your place because he's been both suspended and grounded.</i><br/>
<br/>
Semple's voice pulls you from this reverie. "Aren't you supposed to be in Walberg's class this hour?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Walberg? Oh yeah.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, shit!</i> You hurry off. <br/>
<br/>
He makes you suffer, both that period and in detention after school. But at least you manage to avoid "Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I guess that makes sense," Caleb says in a distracted tone.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not even listening! I told you that Gary Chen—"<br/>
<br/>
"I heard you!" Caleb says without lifting his eyes from the book. "Chen beat the crap out of you 'cos you lost Dane's stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"And then I managed to pin the blame on 'Gordon'." You giggle as you make air quotes around the name.<br/>
<br/>
"Clever."<br/>
<br/>
But he's not really paying attention to you. Instead, he's trying to carve some symbols into a piece of metal. You ask him what he's doing.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you high? I'm trying to do the next spell."<br/>
<br/>
You lean in to see what he's doing. He's bending over a strip of silvery metal, about an inch wide and five inches long, and trying to carve some lines into it. Apparently they are supposed to be runes—there's a couple of rows of runes on the page he's consulting in the book—but he's having a hell of a time getting it done. Though he's using a fountain pen with a metal nib, the silver band doesn't want to take any indentations.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I gotta get home for supper," he says after a little while. "Can I leave this here with you, see if you can get this thing made?"<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think I can do it if you can't?"<br/>
<br/>
He glowers at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think you can, but I'd like you to give it a try. I'll be back in a little while."<br/>
<br/>
You tell him you'll do your best, but after he's left, your eye keeps returning to the desk where he stashed that metal briefcase that Dwayne Macaulay gave you yesterday. Finally you can't stand it anymore, and take it out and try fiddling with the locks. It won't open. You lay it aside and return to work on the doohickey. You only last another five minutes before you're playing with the briefcase again, with mounting frustration. You hear a noise outside, and quickly return to your work. But when Caleb doesn't come in, you pick up the briefcase again. You end up searching the basement for any kind of instrument you can use to break it open. You find a crowbar.<br/>
<br/>
You bash the case about hard before it finally bends enough that you can jimmy it open.<br/>
<br/>
It's in this attitude—you levering the briefcase open—that Caleb finds you when the basement door slams open. "The fuck are you doing?" he cries.<br/>
<br/>
You laugh nervously. "Just, uh, snooping, I guess, into the—" You indicate the briefcase. <br/>
<br/>
"So I see. But that's not our business. You're supposed to be finishing up that—" He grabs the case away from you. And as he does so, it flies open. His voice dies.<br/>
<br/>
The case is packed tight with stuff like Dwayne gave you yesterday. You feel your eyes bulging. You and Caleb are both silent for a very long time.<br/>
<br/>
"Jeezum Crow," you murmur. "What do you think the street value of that crap is?"<br/>
<br/>
"Less than you think," Caleb says, but he doesn't sound as confident as he words would suggest. He's pale when he looks up at you. "That's what you were supposed to give Chen? Fuck us, no wonder he was so pissed at you."<br/>
<br/>
You sink back onto one of the desks. "Wanna go in as Dane for me tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
That jerks him back to the present, and he quickly sweeps the briefcase shut and shoves it back in the desk. <br/>
<br/>
"No, you fucked up, you take the consequences," he says. "Anyway, tomorrow's Saturday, lucky for you. How far did you get on—? Oh, Christ, Will!" He snatches up the metal band. "I gave you plenty of time to work on it! I even went by your house to check up on you-know-who."<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. He's still barely talking to me. He did say that his dad—your dad—did some calling around, found out what a shit Lynch is, so he's not as mad as he was yesterday. I bet <i>that</i> makes Black feel good, learning that his friends are totally despised. But Jesus." He sighs over the metal strip, then shoves it into the book and sweeps the book into his bag. "I'll finish it at my place."<br/>
<br/>
"I can finish it!"<br/>
<br/>
He glares at you. "Apparently you <i>can't!</i> And look how you fucked up Chen when <i>he</i> gave you an assignment." He peers at you. "You're even beginning to <i>look</i> like Matthias."<br/>
<br/>
That last remark makes no sense, since you have been wearing a defect-free disguise of Dane all this time, and you challenge Caleb on the insult. "I mean, you're getting that whole space-cadet look in your eyes. But if you really wanna help, here!"<br/>
<br/>
He takes out the book again, along with that piece of metal and a piece of notebook paper. "Can you at least <i>try</i> finishing this thing up?" he asks as he copies the down the runes that are supposed to go onto the metal strip. He shoves the paper and the strip at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sure, I can <i>try</i>," you assure him. You can't stifle a giggle as you say it, though.<br/>
<br/>
He rolls his eyes. "Good. Look, we'll meet here tomorrow. Here, ten o'clock?" You nod. "Lay off the weed."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you don't take Caleb's advice. You've only had two or three joints ever, and you've never been interested in acquiring the habit. But playing the part of Dane Matthias gives you a once-in-a-lifetime chance, you figure, to experiment and have some fun with it. You enjoyed it last night, when Dane's mom got you high; tonight you don't find her at home, so you take it a little more lightly, and only give yourself a really pleasant buzz while slowly trying to scratch the runes into the metal band. It goes slowly, because you keep pausing to groove on the—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck, man, you're playin' with </i>runes!<i> How cool is that?</i><br/>
<br/>
So distracted, you only dimly become aware of a hammering at the door, and when you raise your head it ceases. Then—<br/>
<br/>
BAM BAM BAM! It's at the window. You twitch aside the curtains, and shriek.<br/>
<br/>
Dwayne Macaulay is glaring in at you.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221
author_id: seuzz
title: Pulp Friction
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You recoil from the window. But of course it's no use. Dwayne has seen you, and he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'll keep politely knocking, even when the door is locked.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes are clear and cold, and they're set in an expressionless face as you let him in. You bleat out an apology, and your guts feel very cold. But even though you feel very frightened, somehow you know you should be much more frightened than you actually are.<br/>
<br/>
And that's what scares you: Knowing that soon you'll be even more frightened than you are now.<br/>
<br/>
But Dwayne only says two words: "What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, man! I put the stuff where I was supposed to! But it wasn't there when Chen went to get it, and my man Semple, he said—"<br/>
<br/>
"He said he saw someone else fucking around with it," Dwayne finishes for you. "A guy named Black?"  You nod fervently. "But how did <i>he</i> know it was there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno! I never told him, never showed him, I swear! He must've seen me put it there, then—"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you put it somewhere that someone could <i>see</i> you putting it there?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's at fucking school, man, there's people all over the place!"<br/>
<br/>
Dwayne studies you evenly, then takes a step forward. You hunch defensively, flapping your hands about uselessly to block the blow you're sure is coming. But he only peers down the hallway toward the bedrooms. "Your mom here?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I dunno where—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I got only three things to say to you, Dane. First is that I'm cutting you off for the rest of the year. No more. You're too far fucking gone. Sober up." You nod fervently in agreement. "Second—"<br/>
<br/>
His arm blurs, and an agonizing pain explodes through your gut and up your spinal column. You collapse to the floor, unable to breathe, and feel your eyes rolling back in pain. After an eternity during which you try to suck in oxygen through your pores, you raspingly inhale one great gulp. It's like breathing in liquid fire.<br/>
<br/>
Dwayne just stands over you as your screaming nerves gradually settle; after a few minutes, you're strong enough to crawl into the bean bag, and huddle on it, looking up at him through streaming tears. <br/>
<br/>
After you wipe them away, he speaks again. "That was so you don't fuck up again," he says. "I'm not even mad at you, which is why I didn't even <i>try</i> to hurt you. But if you fuck up again, and <i>I'm</i> the one who has to eat twenty-two long ones, I will show you what pain <i>really</i> means. And third—"<br/>
<br/>
He bends down close to you. "I told Chen he couldn't kill you," he says quietly, "because you're my cousin. But I also told him he could do <i>anything</i> to you <i>up</i> to killing you. Because <i>he's</i> the one who's out twenty-two thousand dollars. And if he puts you in the hospital, I'm not paying the bill." He stand up again. "So think long and hard about what kind of favors you can do for him." He goes to the door. "Have a good weekend, dude," he says over his shoulder, and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
For almost thirty minutes you lay in a paralyzed stupor. <i>Twenty-two thousand dollars?</i> You cost Gary Chen <i>twenty-two thousand dollars?</i> You are so fucking dead, and you believe that literally, because whatever Dwayne just said, you're pretty goddamned sure Chen won't be able to stop himself from crossing the line between beating you ninety-nine percent to death and all the way there. Not over twenty-two thousand dollars.<br/>
<br/>
You need a miracle; luckily, you've got something magical on your side. Against the possibility of Gary Chen breaking into Dane's house, you rip Dane's mask from your face; if Chen shows up, you can pretend to be Will Prescott, who is spending the night with Dane, who went off someplace 'cos he had the munchies and you have no idea where that is or when he'll get back.<br/>
<br/>
And though you doubt the new spell can help you through this crisis, you hurl yourself into finishing it.<br/>
<br/>
Not until four in the morning, when you hear the front door open and loudly close, do you put out the light and hide under the filthy sheets in Dane's messy bed. You clutch Dane's mask to your chest, listening intensely as footsteps stumble closer. But they don't stop at your door. Instead, they continue to the next bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
You breathe a sigh of relief, and put Dane's mask on.<br/>
<br/>
When you wake again, it's seven o'clock, and the alarm clock is shrieking at you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You couldn't have fucked yourself up more if you'd tried," Caleb yells at you the next morning. You both flinch from the rattling echoes his voice makes as it bounces off the furniture in the elementary school basement.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you suggesting I <i>did</i> try to fuck myself up?" you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"I just said you <i>didn't!</i>" He slaps at you in disgust. "I do you one good deed, saving you from Gordon Black, and <i>this</i> is the mess you make of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it <i>did</i> start with that, didn't it?" you say, getting angry in your turn. "He could have slapped me around hard for a few minutes and that would have been all. But now I've got fucking drug dealers trying to—"<br/>
<br/>
"That wasn't <i>my</i> idea!"<br/>
<br/>
"But it <i>was</i> your idea that we pretend to be each other! That's where it all really started to go wrong!"<br/>
<br/>
"It started to go wrong when you bought that fucking book!"<br/>
<br/>
You both run out of breath at the same time. And though you're both very red in the face, you also realize that the screaming isn't doing any good. Caleb slumps against the desk.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, we were going to turn Gordon loose today anyway," Caleb says quietly. "We could do that, and turn Dane loose too. Then they wouldn't be trying to kill <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<i>No, Chen would just try to kill Dane.</i> And although you'd rather be alive with a bad conscience than dead with a clear one, the two choices are in such close balance that you can't bring yourself to throw Dane between you and Chen. So you shake your head. "I'd give Chen his shit before I'd do that," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"And why don't you do that?" Caleb asks. "Pretend you hid it somewhere else and forgot?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because he'll think I tried stealing it, then panicked when the shit hit the fan."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb takes the stash from the desk, opening the broken briefcase and staring at its contents. "Twenty-two thousand dollars, huh," he says. "Man, what I could do with twenty-two thousand dollars. If only we knew how to sell it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Dane's mom needs a ride, otherwise you'd hang out longer with Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
And that's only the start of the day for you. She drags you over to some woman's house—you're supposed to know who she is, but obviously you don't—and spend the next few hours helping the two women clean out a storeroom. Dane's mom, when she isn't stoned, turns out to be extremely perky and cheerful, so that against your expectations you actually enjoy the work; and neither of them insist on making you talk, so you're able to escape just by obeying orders, asking necessary questions, and listening for Dane's name.<br/>
<br/>
But it's almost four in the afternoon before you're finished, and can drive Dane's mom back home. She asks what you want for supper, but you tell her you've got other plans. "Is it a date?" she asks in a mischievous tone. "Are you seeing a little girl?" You only mutter in embarrassment. She laughs. "You look just like your dad did when I knew him in high school." Since you've no idea what happened to Dane's dad, you say nothing to this, but smile tightly. She laughs again at what probably looks like mortification. "If you don't kiss, I won't ask you to tell," is her parting shot when you drop her off at the trailer.<br/>
<br/>
Once she's inside, you call Caleb, for her teasing has reminded you that <i>someone</i> has a date tonight. "You still on for your date with Eva?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Date?" he asks blankly. "Oh, <i>shit!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you got a date, the one I set you up on, fucker. Are you going? Seven o'clock, her place."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeesh. Maybe I can call her, tell her something came up."<br/>
<br/>
You nearly explode from the car. "You're not seriously going to cancel a <i>date</i> with Eva Garner, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't know how to act with her!"<br/>
<br/>
"You knew how to act with my cousin."<br/>
<br/>
"That's different. I wasn't really into her so I could relax."<br/>
<br/>
Actually, this is going more or less the way you'd hoped: "You want me to cover for you? I need a place to hide anyway, since I've got Chen out looking for me."<br/>
<br/>
He says nothing for a minute. "Yeah, that would work," he says glumly. "Meet me at the clubhouse around six?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So that's what you do: Caleb leaves his car, along with his mask and his very nicest clothes and what little money he could scrounge up; he departs with Dane's car.<br/>
<br/>
You search the basement for a little more money; you find none. But you do find another mask. After peering at the image, you recognize it: Chelsea Cooper.<br/>
<br/>
Then an awful, wonderful idea hits you: She's the one who got you into this mess originally. Maybe you could trap her in Dane's mask to take the punishment?</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212211
author_id: seuzz
title: Don't Mind Me
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a crazy idea—trapping Chelsea Cooper in Dane Matthias's mask, the way you've trapped Dane inside Gordon Black's, and Gordon inside a mask of you. <br/>
<br/>
In fact, it's so crazy that—<br/>
<br/>
You shy away from finishing the cliche.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It's a </i>great<i> idea,</i> you insist to yourself, and thrust behind you the erupting visions of all the ways it could go wrong.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're so taken by the idea that you pay hardly any attention to your date with Eva. Maybe it goes well and maybe it doesn't. Mostly you just talk like friends, about school and interests and mutual acquaintances and gossip. Eva doesn't seem too put out with you at the end of it, but you're too absorbed with the fantasy of doing away with Chelsea Cooper—the bitch who got you into this mess—to give much thought to anything else.<br/>
<br/>
Still, though it was a pleasant time, it's with a sense of relief and anticipation that you hop into the car and race away from the restaurant to find Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"There you are!" he exclaims when you burst through the basement door. "The fuck has been keeping you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've been looking all over for <i>you!"</i> you retort. "I went by your house but— The fuck are you doing out here, anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
"Work. I'da called you, but you have my phone. You can give it back now. Oh, and get out of that mask! We've got a test to make."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of test?"<br/>
<br/>
He picks up one of those metal strips from the table and hands it to you.<br/>
<br/>
Blue letters seem to float above its gleaming surface: CALEB JACOB JOHANSSON. You blink a couple of times at it, and turn it over and over in your hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude," you exclaim. "How'd you get it to do this?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's the spell," Caleb retorts. "This is what it made."<br/>
<br/>
"So what does it do? Did you use it to turn the page in the book?"<br/>
<br/>
"Naturally." His expression is smug, then turns a little guarded. "There's just one sentence on the other side. It translates as 'To know the mind of another'."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him. "You mean, like, mind-reading?"<br/>
<br/>
"Or mind copying. Think about it," he says, and rubs his hands together. "The masks only copy the body. But if you <i>really</i> wanted to impersonate someone you'd have to know <i>their mind</i> as well!"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "Yeah, fuck me, I coulda told you <i>that.</i> You know, my <i>whole freaking week</i> woulda been about ten times easier if— Aw, <i>Christ!</i>" You punch the side of a nearby bookcase. "Why couldn't we have <i>waited</i> until we had this spell cracked before we started fucking around?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is your problem?" Caleb demands. "Did something happen on that date? No, never mind!" He shuts his eyes. "Let's just get this thing tested."<br/>
<br/>
"Tested?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." His eyes pop open again. "We gotta figure out if it works. If it actually does what I <i>think</i> it does."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you're not sure?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was just spitballing! Jesus! So, you just lay out there—" He indicates the big conference table where you've been doing most of your magical work. "And I'll put the doohickey on you." <br/>
<br/>
"On <i>me?</i>" you exclaim. "Why do <i>I</i> gotta be the guinea pig all the time?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm the fucking guinea pig here, Prescott!" Caleb barks. "If this thing works like I think it does, it'll give you access to my mind and everything in it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeesh!" You shiver elaborately all over.<br/>
<br/>
"Just get on the table, dorkface," Caleb coldly orders. You grimace back, but comply. "I'm gonna take the mask off you first," he says as he leans over you.<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, that's how come." He seizes you by the face with one hand and pulls.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You emerge from an acrid blackness with a groan. You sit up on your elbows and blink stupidly at Caleb, who is standing near you, watching you carefully. "Okay, Gandalf," you sigh. "Are you ready now with that thingamafuck?"<br/>
<br/>
His brow crinkles. "I already put it on you, man. Don't you—?"<br/>
<br/>
You gasp, then lunge for him, but yank your hand back at the last minute. <br/>
<br/>
Then you blink. Hard.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you pulled your hand back, but it was like a reflex, like when you pull away from a hot surface. A little thought is blinking in the back of your head: <i>Dude, this is too weird.</i><br/>
<br/>
As you stare at Caleb, that sense of weirdness grows. Your skin crawls, for you've the extremely vivid impression that you're standing in the wrong place. It's like—<br/>
<br/>
It's like when you catch sight of yourself on the monitor of a security monitor. <i>That's me,</i> you think. <i>Wave your hand, and watch the figure on the screen wave too.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your friend's expression is growing alarmed in a way probably proportional to your own.<br/>
<br/>
A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you hunch over with your head in your hands. A tremble passes through you, and your gorge rises. <i>A presence is coming, a cold and clammy presence.</i> It's behind you, but you don't turn, for with a shudder you feel it in the back of your head. It spreads over your scalp and down the back of your neck and spine and through your limbs, like smoothly dripping, gelatinous slime. The nausea increases as it invades your gut, and your temples throb, like with an ice cream headache, as it covers your head and ripples down your face.<br/>
<br/>
A hard shudder passes through you, rattling your teeth; then your nerves and gut and spirits settle. The invasive feeling withdraws to a tiny point in the center of your skull, where it burns briefly and winks out, but not before illuminating the second soul that now coats the inside of your original soul.<br/>
<br/>
You keep your face covered and your eyes shut as you listen to this second soul. It doesn't speak, not exactly, but you could put its thoughts and emotions into words if if you wanted to:<br/>
<br/>
<i>My name is Caleb, and I swear by holy fucking Jesus this had better work.</i><br/>
<br/>
You lower your hands and raise your face to gaze back calmly at—<br/>
<br/>
At yourself. At a guy who looks like yourself. Well, if you want to be fucking technical, it isn't yourself, it's Caleb, because he's Caleb and you're Will. But his face is also yours—<br/>
<br/>
<i>No, hang on a moment.</i> You raise your hands and regard your palms and flex your fingers. <i>Will Prescott's fingers.</i> They seem both natural and alien, at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
Just as Caleb's were, when you put on that mask of him. <br/>
<br/>
<i>This is the opposite of that time,</i> you think. <i>Then I was Will, and I had Caleb's body. But now I'm Caleb, and I've got Will's body.<br/>
<br/>
But if I had Caleb's body ...</i><br/>
<br/>
A wicked smile twists beneath the muscles of your face. "Where's that mask you pulled off me?" you demand, and glance around for it.<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because," you say with exaggerated patience, "I wanna see if it and the dingleberry can work together." You spot the mask by Caleb's side, and he flinches as you reach past to grab it. "Now watch closely while I do this, in case—"<br/>
<br/>
You don't finish before pushing the mask to your face. You don't even feel yourself falling backward onto the table again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake again, this time with a feeling of alert anticipation. Of course you know why that is. You're eager to see if the experiment came off. You sit up and raise your hands.<br/>
<br/>
You are briefly, very disappointed, for they are your own. "Hey," you honk at the figure huddling in the corner of the room. "Why the fuck did you—?"<br/>
<br/>
Then catch yourself, and do a double-take at your hands. They're your hands, sure. You grin. <i>Because I'm Caleb Johansson.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hey, what are you hiding over there for?" you call as you hop off the table. You look around until you spot the full-length mirror, and strut over to it. You check yourself out, making a few characteristic faces. They come very naturally, and with your own memories you recognize them as perfect copies of those you're used to seeing on his funny-looking puss. "This is so awesome!" you exult. "Dude, I'm <i>you!</i> Inside and out!"<br/>
<br/>
A shadow looms behind your reflection, and Caleb appears behind your shoulder. He looks more than a little scared. "Come on," you tell him. "Why are you looking so freaked out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um, because this is more than a little freaky?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't freak out so hard when it was just the mask," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"That was just a mask." He swallows. "Do you have—? Are you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I could totally pass myself off as you," you brag, and pull at the cuffs of your shirt. "Do any shit you ask me too. Do any—"<br/>
<br/>
You throw your head back and stare at the ceiling. Your mouth pulls into a grin. "Do any shit you're too scared to do. Like— <i>Ask your secret crush Jenny Ashton out on a date?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck you!" Caleb gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so, you wanna hang out here tonight while I go home for you?" you ask his reflection in the mirror, for you're having a hard time tearing your eyes from the mirror. "Or I guess I can stay here while you go home. Either way, one of us can start working on the next spell. You were just about to do that, I know."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not going home as Dane?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft, no. With Chen after him?"<br/>
<br/>
But it won't be Chen after <i>you,</i> will it? Not if you put through that plan to swap places with Chelsea!<br/>
<br/>
And this new doohickey Caleb discovered comes along <i>just in the nick of time</i> to help with that.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122111
author_id: seuzz
title: The High and the Mighty, the Low and the Flighty
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I think I can cover for myself, thanks," Caleb stiffly replies. "And you need to get back home to cover for Dane."<br/>
<br/>
But you're distracted by another thought—the thought of using this new spell on Chelsea Cooper. "Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"God, is <i>that</i> what I sound like?" he asks. "'Huh?'"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, probably," you retort with a very Caleb-like honk. "Listen, fine, you go home and I'll—" You look around for the book of spells. "I'll start working on the next thing in the book."<br/>
<br/>
You catch Caleb giving you a doubtful look. "What?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want you to get the wrong impression, like I don't trust you, Will," he says. "But—" He holds out his hand, then snaps his fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you need the book for?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not asking you for the book," he says through gritted teeth. "I'm asking you for the—" He points to your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, yeah, fine," you snort. "But I'm not going back to Dane's." You hop onto the table and settle back, shutting your eyes in anticipation of Caleb pulling the mask off you.<br/>
<br/>
But he doesn't follow through right away. Not until you murmur, "Hurry up, asshole," do you feel his presence beside you. A moment a later his clammy fingertips grasp you by the temples.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb has already gone by the time you recover from the swoon. And while you were out he also rolled out your sleeping bag and laid the book open so you can start reading up on the next spell.<br/>
<br/>
That was nice of him, but you're still a little miffed at the way he <i>demanded</i> that you give his mask and memory strip back to him. Like he doesn't trust you with them? <br/>
<br/>
<i>Pfft!</i> Like you'd really like to steal 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 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 a remembered joke that Keith Tilley made 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 Chelsea Cooper.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you reflect, there's no way you'll be able to talk Caleb into going along with such a plan. Is there? Also, you don't have any more masks. Do you even have enough makings for one more? After scrounging around, and carefully scraping together every last drop of liquid and pinch of powder, you confirm you've got enough for one last mask.<br/>
<br/>
So that's the final thing you do before crawling into your sleeping bag: you cast amask, and by the dim, blue glow from the laptop you polish it to a burnished, bluish glow of its own.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake early the next morning, and after stretching all the sleep from your muscles—and waxing yourself off by fantasizing about what you are planning to do to Chelsea—you pop yourself into Dane's clothes and Dane's mask for a brisk morning run. The Danester isn't in the best of shape—he's started to carry a gut around, and he's easily winded, you discover—but you need to clear your head for some good, hard thinking, and you figure that a lot of cold oxygen to the head and hot, pumping blood to the brain will help you figure out the nasty puzzle you went to bed with last night.<br/>
<br/>
Namely: how to get close to Chelsea Cooper.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea is the queen bee of the school, and so far above everyone who isn't a cheerleader, a star jock, or the girlfriend of a star jock, that she can't even see them. And Dane Matthias is a dirty stoner, the kind of person she'd wipe off the bottom of her shoe like cow flop.<br/>
<br/>
Well, Will Prescott is that kind of person too. But that just highlights what a problem it will be for you.<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, it doesn't take you long to figure out that Dane Matthias has a very easy path to Chelsea. You stop in the middle of your jog to hop around, punching the air with excitement, as you play out that plan in your head.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Getting Chelsea's phone number winds up being the hard part, and you have text and cajole a lot of people before you are able to send her a text telling her why you want to meet with her. After that—<i>pfft!</i> It only takes her five minutes to reply, telling you where to be and what time. <i>Dont be late,</i> she adds.<br/>
<br/>
You're not. You get in gear so quick you have time to run back to Dane's for a quick shower and a change into a less smelly set of clothes.<br/>
<br/>
Your hair is wetly plastered down, and your boxer shorts and flannel pajama bottoms are sticking to your wet, hairy legs, as you jump out of the car at the high school. That Chelsea was serious is indicated by her choice of meeting places: the high school gym.<br/>
<br/>
It's a Sunday, but Chelsea and her friends—lots of the athletes, in fact—have keys to the gym and to some of the other athletic school buildings. It's one of the weird perks that this sports-mad high school hands out to the jocks: 24/7 access to the sports facilities and the equipment. Right now, for instance, Kelsey Blankenship and some other girl are practicing their tennis volleys inside the tennis cages. You wave cheerily to Kelsey, but if she sees you at all, she only ignores you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Bitch,</i> you think. <i>Maybe I should find some druggie cocksucker to switch </i>you<i> with!</i><br/>
<br/>
Turning from Kelsey, you lope toward the gym's side door, rehearsing the speech you're going to give Chelsea, and cradling the book bag that bumps at your hip. Inside it, you are carrying the new mask and other supplies you will need to pull off the switch.<br/>
<br/>
You haul open the side door—it's unlocked!—and step inside. The glare off the polished hardwood floor blinds you. "Chelsea?" you shout from behind your squint.<br/>
<br/>
A hard, strong arm grabs you in a headlock, and you are rushed into the gym. "Hey hey hey!" you shout. Then your feet are kicked out from under you, and you splat face-first onto the hardwood floor. Your bag flies off your shoulder, and slides away.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck, man?" you demand as you turn onto your bruised side.<br/>
<br/>
That's when you see who was waiting for you, and all your plans shrivel away.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea, looking very prim in a pleated woolen skirt and a white sweater, is seated on the lowest bench of the bleachers. Kendra Saunders, her Kenyan acolyte, is seated next to her, as is Gloria Rea, slowly and thoughtfully chewing a piece of gum as she glares disdainfully at you. <br/>
<br/>
And standing over you, their arms folded and their expressions cold and merciless, are Steve Patterson and Jason Lynch.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks for coming, Dane," Chelsea says in a clear, high voice. "I really appreciate it. So, tell me." She holds up her phone, scrolls down it, and reads a familiar text off it. "How come is it that Gordon is acting all goofy these days?"<br/>
<br/>
"And talk fast, you little fuck," Jason says. He nurses a fist.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," Steve says, his ice-gray eyes locked on you. "Dane's dying to tell us. He'll just die if he doesn't."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Okay, so it totally doesn't go the way you were planning. You thought you were going to get Chelsea alone. And the story you babble out—that Gordon got into some "bad shit"—doesn't sit well with them. <i>Doesn't tell us anything we didn't already figure out,</i> Patterson snarls after pounding your guts out.<br/>
<br/>
At least the session doesn't last long. They throw you out after five minutes, and you crawl off to the car.<br/>
<br/>
There you wait, watching, as you nurse your bruises. Gloria and Lynch are the first to leave. Does this mean you still have a chance to get Chelsea alone? Or maybe you should just switch with <i>someone.</i></span></div></div>


