# chapters

path: 11333121211111222111222
author_id: seuzz
title: Vice Versa
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You look at Carson; he looks back grimly at you. "It doesn't matter to me," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Me neither," Carson agrees.<br/>
<br/>
Joe sighs impatiently. "Okay, whatever," you say. "I'll take your mask."<br/>
<br/>
"You should at least pretend to be excited," he grumbles. "First, though, you need to get yourself into one of these blanks. So I can be you, which is the really important thing."<br/>
<br/>
"How do they work," Carson asks, and draws back stiffly as Frank advances on him. <br/>
<br/>
"It's simple," Frank says. "You put the mask on your face."<br/>
<br/>
"Are we really going to be able to pull off pretending to be you guys?" you ask with a regrettable squeak in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," Joe replies. "I guess we'll find out."<br/>
<br/>
"But we don't know anything about you guys! And you don't know anything about us!"<br/>
<br/>
But Joe advances swiftly on you, and before you can react he pushes something heavy into your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are cold and stiff when you come to, and an ache briefly throbs behind your temples before disappearing. You sit up.<br/>
<br/>
You have only a vague memory of the experience: Joe shoving a white thing at you, and then a  feeling like a wave of molten gold pouring over and into you, dragging you into a warm but not uncomfortable darkness. You're glad you didn't know what to expect, and that you weren't expecting anything. The experience, now that you're out of it, is rather like those expectations: a nothingburger. <br/>
<br/>
Carson is stretched out on the floor beside you, his eyes shut and his face looking drawn. With a grunt, you shake him, and shake him again. "Carson. Hey!" You slap him slightly. Then you pinch his nose shut. <br/>
<br/>
With a gasp and snort he springs up, coughing and choking. "The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Where are those guys? Are you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
He groans and puts his face in his hands, looking a lot sicker than you felt. His shoulders tremble, and his eyes are bloodshot when he looks up. "How long you been awake?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Ten seconds?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker. You shoulda let me stay passed out. We had, like, a five minute conference after you were out."<br/>
<br/>
"What about?" you ask in alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"What they're doing. Oh yeah, we're so fucked." He says nothing more, only lays back on the floor and shuts his eyes. He still says nothing but "Quit it," when you start punching him to get him to talk.<br/>
<br/>
But finally he gathers enough strength to explain himself. "Those masks," he says. "It turns out there's, like, two kinds, and the really advanced ones are like a perfect disguise. That's how come the doppelgangers are so good, because Joe says the advanced masks can also copy minds and brains. That's how come the doppelgangers can act just like the people they're pretending to be."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck." A hard shiver runs through you. "No wonder— They could be anywhere, anyone!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but that's not why we're fucked. See, Joe and Frank are making advanced masks of us, so they can imitate us perfectly," Carson continues with a grimace. "But they're only gonna give us basic masks of themselves. We're gonna look like them, but we're gonna have to fake our way through pretending to <i>be</i> them."<br/>
<br/>
"The f--? That's bullshit!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I said. But they're all, like, No no, we got secrets and stuff that we don't want you to know, you're gonna hafta get along without it. That 'secret society' of theirs," he concludes acidly.<br/>
<br/>
"But they're gonna know all about us? What a fucking invasion of privacy!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you're preaching to the converted, man. I tried arguing, but then they just jumped me." He makes a face. Then his expression turns thoughtful. "Of course, after we've done the swap," he says slowly. "We'll have their bodies and they'll have ours. And though I don't like to admit it, they're a lot bigger than us, more cut."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean we could—"<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just see what happens."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But maybe Carson's thought had also occurred to your hosts, for Joe and Frank are still looking like themselves when they come out a few minutes later. "Okay, we're ready to go," Frank says. "Give us your clothes."<br/>
<br/>
Carson peers at him insolently. "Oh yeah, you'll totally fool my mom," he says. "You look just like me."<br/>
<br/>
"We haven't changed yet," Frank starts to say.<br/>
<br/>
"Obviously."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll do it later, after we've picked up your cars at the school." He hands Carson two masks. "The one on top is the mask of me, the other's of Joe. Don't get 'em mixed up."<br/>
<br/>
"Or do, if you decided you want to look good the next few days," Joe pipes up.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but what's this about us not being able to act like you guys," you object.<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing to it," Joe says, and hands you a sheet of paper. "Here's our class schedules. Go to school, take notes. Me and Frank have only been in town a few weeks, so it's not like we got lots of old friends or family you have to fool. You only gotta keep a couple of character notes in mind. Frank is supposed to be smart, but not super-smart. Can you fake that much, Ioeger?" he asks Carson, who shrugs. "He's also not into girls."<br/>
<br/>
Carson snickers hard at that.<br/>
<br/>
"Me, on the other hand, I love the girls, and the girls love me," Joe continues, and winks at you. "Can you handle lotsa lovin', Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
Now Carson he looses a howl of laughter. "Shut up!" you yell.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay," Joe says. "The other thing is, I pretend to be really dumb. So, you gotta act like a total moron if you wanna keep people thinking there hasn't been a switcheroo. I think that's all. Can you think of anything, Frank?"<br/>
<br/>
"The basketball team?" Frank says. "Can either of you play ball?" You and Carson both hem and haw. "Great," Frank sighs. "Because we're on the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"They could say Dad made us quit?" Joe suggests.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever," Frank says. "It's too late now. To be honest, it doesn't really matter if you fuck things up, because it's not like anyone is going to suspect that you're doppelgangers or anything, and we won't be going back to Eastman when all this is done."<br/>
<br/>
"How long is this going be for," you ask nervously.<br/>
<br/>
"As long as it takes," Frank says impatiently. "Then you'll go back to being yourselves. Jesus, you're jumpy."<br/>
<br/>
And that seems to be it. You've a few more questions, which they treat dismissively: They have the house to themselves, and if anyone calls looking for them, you'll just have to manage the best you can to parry inquiries. "It shouldn't be for more than a few days," Joe says complacently. "Chances of your getting a call from our Dad is pretty non-existent. He lets us do our thing without a lot of micromanagement."<br/>
<br/>
And after that you pull off your clothes and take Joe's mask to the bedroom while Carson takes Frank's into the bathroom. The real guys head out into the night with your things and masks of their own.<br/>
<br/>
The bedroom, as you'd found earlier, is a rather disgusting mess of dirty clothes, disordered bed sheets, and filthy dishes. Fact is, it's a lot like your bedroom, and as soon as you recognize that fact you bemusedly understand why your mom is always yelling at you about the state that it's in. You push loose shirts and pants from the bed and lay back on it. You hold the mask over your face, frowning at it. It's a light blue in color, both on its concave and convex sides; and unlike the mask you found in Nurse Shaffer's office, it hasn't got a name in it. You turn it this way and that. How very strange, you think, that this thing should be magical, that if you put it on it will make you look like that blonde guy. This is the kind of thing the doppelgangers have been using, too, so you're about to get a look at it from their side.<br/>
<br/>
It could have been "your side," you reflect. If you hadn't put that crazy book in the time capsule, if you'd kept exploring it and playing with it— Would you now be doing what the doppelganger gangbangers are doing? Would you be getting rid of people and taking over their lives? You shiver. No way would you kill anyone, you're sure of that. And you're not killing anyone now. You're using this thing to fight them, in fact. It's a hiding place, to keep you safe, until this is all over. It'll kind of neat, in fact, getting to pretend to be someone else. Joe bragged that he's good with girls. You shiver again, this time more pleasurably. But if the girls at Eastman flirt with Joe, will you be able to flirt back?<br/>
<br/>
Your heart is beating pretty hard now, with anticipations about tomorrow. You take a deep breath, and slowly lower the mask onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
It rests there for only a fraction of a moment, then grows very heavy. You gasp and struggle at the sense of a massive weight pressing and pushing into the front of your skull. But then a great drowsiness spreads all over your body, and you feel as though you are again sinking into a hot bath of molten gold.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake with a snort and a start, punching hard at the air, and break into a choking cough. Through a mist of tears you glare at the apparition by the bed: the dark-haired teenager who looks like Frank Durras. "Ha," he says. "Got you back for the way you got me before."</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221112221
author_id: seuzz
title: Nobodies in New Bodies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Carson must have been awake for quite a bit longer than you, for he's already found and donned a t-shirt and jeans. <br/>
<br/>
"Where'd you find the clothes?" you ask, and glance around. You flinch as your gaze brushes over your new cock, and you turn over, to clamber across the bed toward a dresser. Inside it you find some cotton shorts and a t-shirt for yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"In the other bedroom," he says. "Maybe these guys <i>don't</i> share a bed," he adds. "Maybe one of 'em's just a slob and the other's a super neat-freak."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we're not sharing bed as long as <i>we're</i> here," you say as you pull on some boxers and the rest of your temporary wardrobe. You briefly stare at and lightly flex your new limbs. They've a tawny tan, and glint with fine blond hairs on your forearms and calves. "Have we heard from anybody?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Those guys only left ten minutes ago," Carson says. "Come on, let's go see what else we can find."<br/>
<br/>
Now that you're certain you won't be interrupted, you and he make a much more careful and thorough search of the house. The bathroom shows only the usual toiletries. The other bedroom—which on your first search you'd dismissed as just a spare room—proves stocked with lots of clothes. But though filled with ordinary and well-used implements, like a hairbrush and deodorant, it has a disused feel. "If the guy's a neatnik," you observe, "you'd think he's spray some air freshener around." But you abandon it as a profitless mystery.<br/>
<br/>
The garage smells of gasoline and oil, but it's bare as well, and there aren't even any tools laying around. Between it and the kitchen is a small laundry room boasting a very new looking washer and dryer. The kitchen, as you'd discovered earlier, has for tableware no more than four plates, four glasses, and four sets of forks, knives and spoons. Even the oven is equipped with only a single skillet and pot. <i>Well, they said they lived alone, and were only renting the place.</i><br/>
<br/>
The jackpot, perhaps, is the laptop computer they've left behind. It isn't even password protected, and you huddle next to Carson as he starts going through the contents. But like the house, it's mostly bare. There are a couple of goofball games and some music writing software. The browser history traipses all over the web over all kinds of subjects, both current and general, none of which mark Frank and Joe out as being any different from any other teens. The writing program only brings up some short homework assignments. While Carson digs deeper inside some folders—which eventually disclose nothing of great interest--you paw through some scratch paper. It's math, mostly, along with some larger sheets that are scrawled over with weird symbols and geometric figures.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I suppose it's all good news," Carson says as he shuts down the laptop.<br/>
<br/>
"What is?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fact that we can't find anything. I was kind of worried that these guys might actually be some kind of professionals. But it looks like they're just a couple of fanboy fetishists or something."<br/>
<br/>
"They got that book away from the doppelgangers," you point out.<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. Goes to show what a lot of amateurs our doppelgangers are, too. Mind you, I'm  not saying they're not dangerous, 'cos we don't really know who's who." A smile creeps up the side of his face. "But look at us now. No one knows who we really are either." He leans back, and twines his hands behind his head. "Yeah, I figure as long as we keep our heads, we got as much of a chance of coming out on top as anyone else does."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
An alarm wakes you with a shriek; you slap it quiet and bury your face in the pillow. "Ten more minutes," you mutter, in case your mother is standing over you. As you burrow more deeply into the bed, your cock (already spongy and excited) stiffens, and you groan appreciatively. That at least wakes you up a little, and you stretch your limbs, poking hands and feet out from under the sheets. You grimace hard as the erection throbs a little. The clock, when you glance at it, says "6:56," which is way too early for it to be going off. The display also doesn't look right. <i>The fuck?</i> You turn over, and gape at the strange bedroom you find yourself in.<br/>
<br/>
It all rushes back to you, and you gasp. You gasp harder when your eye falls on the tenting sheets. That's not your cock under there! You scramble back wildly, and of course it chases you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, this is stupid. Gross, but stupid.</i> Of course it's your cock, it's just that it's looking like another guy's cock at the moment. And despite your mortification, it's still throbbing gently. Whimpering, almost, like a dog begging permission to play.<br/>
<br/>
You squeeze your eyes shut and vainly will it to wilt. It droops slightly, but as you shift across the bed that tiny bit of friction sends it leaping again.<br/>
<br/>
There's a sharp knock at the door, and it opens before you can speak. That dark-haired fucker comes in, frowning hard. "You awake yet, Presc— Gyah!" He swings on his heel. "Jesus, you're actually <i>jacking off?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not my fault! I woke up with wood! Don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but I don't nurse it, not when it's not mine! And I don't try to poke people's eyes out with it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you wouldn't just barge in on—! Get out!"<br/>
<br/>
"So you can finish up? Get that thing under control and get up!"<br/>
<br/>
You hurl a pillow at him, but he doesn't budge. "Come on, Prescott. We gotta figure out how we're gonna handle school."<br/>
<br/>
It's Monday morning. You had the weekend to try getting used to your new "skins" while hoping for a quick return by their original owners. But no word has come, and now it's upon you both: You will have to go into Eastman in the guise of two teenagers you don't even know.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Do you feel, like, lighter on your feet," you ask Carson as you trudge across the parking lot toward the main building at Eastman High. Not knowing that school, Carson—who'd driven—followed other cars into the parking lot. He'd snarled at all the people honking, until you'd noticed that the honking was accompanied by lots of friendly waves in your direction. Still, it had taken nearly a minute before the two of you had summoned up the nerve to hike packs onto your shoulders and slowly get out of the truck.<br/>
<br/>
"Lighter on my feet?" he asks. "Like how?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. I'm just feel like I'm having an easier time moving. And this backpack is stuffed, but it doesn't seem real heavy."<br/>
<br/>
"That's 'cos you're wearing a body that isn't morbidly weak, like usual."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I'm at least as strong as you."<br/>
<br/>
"As soon as we get back, we'll find out who's stronger."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's find out now!" You shove Carson, and surprise yourself with the way you're able to knock him almost from his feet.<br/>
<br/>
He snarls at you, but before he can return the shove, a voice sounds from nearby. "You guys ever stop fighting?" A broad-shouldered jock with rakishly cut blonde hair saunters up with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
Your sphincter loosens, and Carson returns you a glance as terrified as the one you've shot in his direction. "Lemme guess," your new friend says. "One of you forgot to gas up the truck and you had to hike to a station."<br/>
<br/>
Carson swallows a couple of times and says nothing, so you jump in before it can turn awkward. "No, it's just that this guy is all— Bleagh!" You make an ugly face at Carson as your excuse crashes before it can even take off.<br/>
<br/>
"Just shut up," Carson snarls. "It's your fault anyway!"<br/>
<br/>
"Me? I wasn't the one who— Uh—"<br/>
<br/>
Your new friend grins expectantly. "Yeah? You're not the one who did what, Joe? What's the excuse you're gonna give Carpenter?"<br/>
<br/>
A glacier instantly forms inside your larynx. "Why would I need to give Carpenter an excuse? Anyway, <i>Frank</i>—" You wheel again on Carson. "If you hadn't, you know— Uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Carson's eyes gleam wickedly. "What is it, <i>Joe,</i> if I hadn't <i>what?</i> Go on, tell—" He jerks a thumb at the other one. "Tell this guy what I did."<br/>
<br/>
You feel a blaze forming in your cheeks. "Dad caught him jerking off in the shower," you tell the other guy, who barks a single laugh as Carson's face falls. "Yeah, and then he gave him the longest lecture in the history of hygiene lectures about going blind."<br/>
<br/>
Carson throws his pack to the ground and jumps at you. You jab him hard in the stomach as he comes, but he gets his arms around you and tries pulling you to the asphalt. But you're not fighting so hard you can't hear your friend laughing hard: "Okay, whatever," he says. "But what your life ain't gonna be worth when you see Carpenter." With a last chuckle he swaggers off toward the school.<br/>
<br/>
Though still locked together, you and Carson pause to watch him go, and after he's moved off you release each other. "Carpenter? What class does he teach?" Carson starts to ask, but you're already digging your schedule from your pockets. You stare down hard your own, and he stares at his, then you stare at each others'. "I don't see a teacher named Carpenter," you say. <br/>
<br/>
"Me neither," he agrees. You stare at each other. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't see Frank and Joe having a personal bully, like the Molester, or Black and them," you say slowly. "So who's this Carpenter asshole and why are we in trouble with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like I've got a clue."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do we do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoever he is, kick him in the balls and run like hell when we see him."</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211122211
author_id: seuzz
title: The First Day of a Part of Life
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It takes you a long time to find your first class, and not just because you don't know your way around Eastman High. You keep having to stop and turn, because every couple of minutes some low, throaty, female voice will call out your new name: "Hey, Joe." And you turn your head to find some curvy blonde chick—or a curvy brunette chick, or a curvy red-head; a curvy Hispanic, a curvy Asian, a curvy African-American; a curvy chick who's tall or a curvy chick who's very short—grinning hard at you. Naturally, you grin back, and keep moving while glancing over your shoulder at them until you hear another "Hey, Joe." Your cheeks are aching by the time you get to your destination.<br/>
<br/>
First period is a math class--Remedial Algebra—with some joker named Jones. You stand in the doorway in some agony, since the class schedule says nothing about a seating chart. But you're rescued in the nicest way possible: Another blonde girl, this one with the most glorious bosom you've ever seen, smiles at you and pats the back of the empty desk in front of her. You shuffle over, blushing as you grin back. "Hey, Joe," she says just like all the others.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey ... you."<br/>
<br/>
She plucks at the sleeve of your t-shirt as you sit. Heart hammering in your chest, you pluck at the neckline of hers. She giggles lightly, and beams at you. You can practically hear your dick tootle like a rising slide-whistle as it stiffens.<br/>
<br/>
And her grin turns a little glassy as you grin back inanely.<br/>
<br/>
"You got your homework, Durras," a sharp voice calls. It's the teacher's aide: a well-tanned guy with slightly elfin features, sitting at the teacher's desk.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, no."<br/>
<br/>
"You got anything else for me?" His gaze is steady and unflinching.<br/>
<br/>
"N-no."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay then," he sighs, and returns to checking through the grade book. <br/>
<br/>
You turn back to the girl. "What were you saying?" <br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. But what are you doing for lunch?"<br/>
<br/>
Before you can answer, a shrimpy little man with thick glasses brushes past, tapping you hard on the shoulder and telling you to turn around. Reluctantly you comply, and class begins.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It doesn't go so badly. In fact, you think it goes quite well. Mr. Jones orders you to the front to do some problems on the board. But the problems are extremely easy, and you breeze through them. The class seems to turn very quiet as you work. Mr. Jones is also very quiet at the end of a series of mounting challenges, and tells you "Good job, Joe" before letting you sit back down. You also catch the teacher's aide staring at you, before he gives you a quiet thumb's up.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it's your imagination, but no one else who does board problems seems to get the same measure of respect.<br/>
<br/>
Second period is another remedial class—English, this time. The fattish lady in charge can hardly keep control for all the hooting and yelling by the Spanish-speaking contingent. It takes you awhile to figure out that the "Jose" you keep hearing is them calling to you, and you've the impression that they're laughing at you when you blink back stupidly at them. But they seem good-natured, and when one of them leans in to ask about your latest <i>chica,</i> you pantomime cradling a pair of breasts. That gets the desired effect, you suppose: He laughs hard and makes what looks like a very crude gesture with his hands.<br/>
<br/>
Third period is a civics class taught by a very hard-faced elderly woman of waspish temper. She lectures the whole time. Only once does she call on you, and the whole class cracks up when you blurt out "Huh?" in a panicked tone.<br/>
<br/>
Then comes lunch. You look for Carson at Frank's locker, and without your having to say anything he steers you outside for a conference. "You getting along okay?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Keeping my head down and listening for my name. Well, Frank Durras's name. But you need to get onto the school website—you got Joe's iPhone with you? Good, because you need to check out and memorize the faces and names of the basketball team."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit, that's right! We supposed to be on the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. And we missed practice this morning. That's what they guy was going on about in the parking lot. His name's Lakewood, by the way, he captains the soccer team. Anyway, you're probably gonna have some classes with some of those players, and if they ask you need to tell them that we're quitting the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"Have you talked to any of those guys yet? What's our story?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I talked to one of them. It was a lucky break. He made some reference about how Joe—you—is flunking all his classes. That gave me a brainstorm, and I told him that, uh, our dad was going to make you quit the team until you got your grades up, and that I was going to quit too so you wouldn't feel bad. Anyway, we need to find the team captain this afternoon and— Are you listening to me? Whoa!"<br/>
<br/>
Well might he gasp. You've pulled the iPhone out and turned on, and stumbled into a cache of pictures Joe has apparently taken. All of them girls, all of them grinning at the lens. And the one you're swallowing hard over at the moment has the hem of her t-shirt pulled up and is flashing an exposed— Well, she wasn't wearing a bra that day.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ!" says Carson. "You're telling me that fucker— He's been talking girls who look like <i>that</i> into—" He swallows hard. You look up to find him staring at you. The whites are showing all around his eyes, and his lip has twisted into an envious bow. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you laugh nervously. "I guess I'm pretty hot or something. All these girls were, like, flirting with me as I was—"<br/>
<br/>
He shoves you against the wall and grabs at your face. "How do we get these fucking things off people? You don't—! Those girls are totally wasted on a little prick like you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Ow! Quit it!" You kick at him, and twist away. "Like they wouldn't be wasted on <i>you!</i> The fuck do you know about—! At least I had a girlfriend over the summer!"<br/>
<br/>
"You just memorize the names of the basketball squad! And if you start getting up to anything with anyone— Oh, fuck me, I'd just love to see <i>that!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You're saying you wanna watch?"<br/>
<br/>
He clips you hard. Really hard. As in, the world briefly goes upside down and black. When you come reeling out of it, you drunkenly charge him head down, like a bull. You connect with a terrific shock, and then you're airborne for a moment before another hard blow jars every one of your bones. You raise up to find yourself on the ground atop Carson. He throws another vicious blow at the side of your head, which sets your brains ringing. You punch him in the stomach.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The long and short of it is that you get a black eye and Carson gets several bruises all over his torso. A teacher has to separate you, and you're both frog-marched first to the nurse's, where cuts and tender spots are taken care of, and then to the main office. The principal first tries calling the Durras's dad at his home number—which leaves you swallowing hard—but gets no answer. Then, in his very grave and angry way, he yells at you both, while also admitting that he doesn't want to get in the middle of a fight between brothers. You and Carson both apologize profusely, and swear that it was just a fraternal tussling match that got out of control, and promise that nothing like it will happen again. The principal stares hard at you a bit, then allows you to leave with the warning that he will get your dad involved if it happens again. "I assume he'll have something to say tonight when you show him your bruises," he says by way of closing.<br/>
<br/>
Out in the empty halls, as you tramp to classes with tardy slips, Carson curtly apologizes to you, and you to him. "At least we didn't accidentally knock these masks off each other," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"It woulda been better if we had," he replies. "Don't you see," he continues when you look at him quizzically. "We <i>don't</i> know how to get these masks off. We're stuck this way until those assholes let us out."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's one nice side effect to your fight with Carson. Every single girl you see oohs and coos over you, and gently strokes the side of your face with tender fingertips, and calls you a "poor, poor baby," and kisses your eye (and then the side of your nose and your cheek and just under your jaw) to make it all better. Last period, which is held in the library, you sit in the corner with some girl who looks like a cheerleader, with your head resting gently on her bosom while she cradles you.<br/>
<br/>
In this attitude you look up as a blonde bean-pole drops into a chair opposite you. "Jonathan Straussler": you recognize him from the basketball team photo you briefly had time to look up in the bathroom. "Hey, I heard about your dad making you quit the team," he says soberly. "That sucks."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and let a tear run down your cheek.<br/>
<br/>
"Wanna come out to my place this afternoon, have a little fun? I got a text from Patterson a little while ago, challenging me to some one-on-one. We could take turns humiliating him."<br/>
<br/>
You bolt upright, but hesitate. Is Steve Patterson one of the doppelgangers? Are they trying to spread to Eastman now? Should you call the real Frank and Joe for advice, or just wing it?</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111222111222112
author_id: seuzz
title: Study Sessions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I dunno," you say. "I'll have to see what Frank wants to do."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you guys were fighting," Straussler says dryly.<br/>
<br/>
"He's got the keys to the truck." Then you remember where you're sitting, and who with, which gives you another excuse. "Besides—" you say as you cuddle up more closely with cheerleader-babe.<br/>
<br/>
Straussler smiles and moves off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Hang loose we'll talk later.</i> That's the texted reply to the one you shot off to Joe. Carson glances at it as you and he weave through the crowded parking lot after school lets out. "Wanna go out to Straussler's anyway," you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"No point in that," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Really? I thought you'd wanna jump on it, try to catch one of those doppelgangers."<br/>
<br/>
He grasps you by the front of the shirt and rudely pulls you between two cars. "Keep it straight, Prescott, we're not trying to fight those guys, just survive. Leave the heroics to those assholes."<br/>
<br/>
"But I though you were wanting to mix it up with them."<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanna see if we can get that grimoire off 'em. Besides, if we go out there we'll have to try playing ball, and we don't want to embarrass ourselves that way."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not <i>that</i> bad," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Then why weren't you on the Westside team?"<br/>
<br/>
You flinch. "I don't have an appetite for assholes."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, you'd be sinking three-pointers at the state championship if it weren't for Black and Patterson being on the team."<br/>
<br/>
"And Javits."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up."<br/>
<br/>
You've not been home—well, at the house you're calling home for the duration—but twenty minutes when the door bangs open without a knock and a guy who looks like Carson Ioeger strides in. "Yo, I'm here to pick up some clothes," he says, and disappears down the hallway to the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
You and the real Carson, at the dining room table, look up in astonishment then hurry after him. You catch up to the intruder as he's pawing through a dresser. "What are you doing?" Carson demands.<br/>
<br/>
Frank—for you assume it's Frank under the Carson disguise—only glances up briefly. "I told you, getting some of our old clothes. We're going out to Jonathan Straussler's, and since Straussler doesn't know Carson Ioeger and Will Prescott, we're going out there as ourselves."<br/>
<br/>
"You think Patterson's a doppelganger?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe, maybe not. We've got a little list going, and he's in the 'Could Be' column. But we don't like the idea of a doppelganger getting chummy with Jonathan, so we're going out to keep an eye on things, maybe stop something, maybe catch someone." After critically eyeing a couple of pairs of shorts and shirts, he scoops up his choices, then looks in the closet for some sneakers. "So I need you guys to send Jonathan a text telling him Joe and I'll be out at his place around 4:30."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Is there anything we need to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope. Just stay outta trouble here."<br/>
<br/>
"We're gonna need some money," Carson interrupts. "The pantry's almost empty."<br/>
<br/>
"You got our ATM card," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"But not the PIN number."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't answer for a spell as he contemplates a couple of pairs of shoes. "Text Joe for it," he finally says.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you know it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe's in charge of the banking. I'll see you later." With that he pushes past and is quickly out the front door again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get a text off to Joe, and he gets the PIN back to you thirty minutes later. Carson then goes shopping, and almost as soon as he's gone you start fielding phone calls. Almost all of them are from girls wondering if you'd like to get together with them for a study group. "I heard you need to get your grades up," is the common refrain, expressed in regretful but hopeful terms. "If you want to get together to study, I'd love to help." <br/>
<br/>
So, apparently the story of Joe's enforced retirement has quickly spread. You tell the first couple of girls that you'll have to call them back once "Frank" has returned with the truck. After a half-dozen messages have accumulated, you start penciling in study dates. Today: Becky Torres (math). Tuesday: Alyssa Randal (civics). Wednesday: Maddy Caron (civics). Thursday: Natalie Dawkins (history). Friday: Becky Torres (again for math). Saturday: Kristy Carlson (English), Amy Rhodes (no subject, but she sure sounds eager to get together), and Jenny Taylor (history). Etc. In between phone calls you do as much social media research as you can, to put faces with the names. You're pleased with most of what you discover.<br/>
<br/>
"You heard from Frank or Joe?" Carson asks when he's back and unpacking groceries.<br/>
<br/>
"No, and they can stay gone for at least a week," you gloat. "I got study dates with hot girls from now until— Hang on, here's another one." Carson glowers at you as your phone rings again. But it's not a girl's name on the display. "Ian Carpenter," you mutter. "Why's that names familiar?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Prescott! That's the captain of the basketball team! I told you to study those names and faces!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, right!" Then you snap your finger. "That's also the guy that, uh, whatshisname told us to look out for this morning. In the parking lot!"<br/>
<br/>
Carson chokes a little. "Well, you're perfectly cast in one regard. Everyone I talked to at school said that Joe was an absent-minded moron, and you're sure living up to—"<br/>
<br/>
You flip him off and answer the phone. "Yo, Ian! Uh, I guess you wanna talk how come Frank and I weren't at practice. Sorry I didn't tell you earlier."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, why didn't you?" The voice on the other end of the line is friendly, but a little guarded.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ..." You blink hard, and peck at the laptop keyboard to bring back up an enlarged version of the Eastman team photo. <i>Which one was Carpenter? Did you see him today? Because if you didn't you could just say you missed him.</i> The silence on the other end of the line is profound. <i>Crap. Better fudge it ...</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well, you know, I didn't really have a chance to talk to you, I was kinda busy with other things, and I thought maybe—"<br/>
<br/>
"Busy?" he interrupts. "You mean like busy with Becky?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Becky? Becky?</i> You fumble open another browser window and try to get the History tab to return you to a photo you saw earlier. "Well, busy with lots of things."<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, Joe, Becky only has two things you're interested in, and I don't blame you for being interested in them. But would it have killed you to—"<br/>
<br/>
You find Becky Torres's photo. <i>Oh yeah, that's right! She's that girl you sat in front of in math!</i> And Carpenter, he's—<br/>
<br/>
"Shit!" You clap your hand over the iPhone and bounce with terror in your seat. "Shit! Oh, fuck me!" Carson hurries over, alarmed. "It's that teacher's aide in first period! That was Carpenter! I totally blew him off first period 'cos I didn't know he was asking about us missing practice!"<br/>
<br/>
Carson gapes, and leaps back when you thrust the iPhone at him.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't talk to him," you yelp. "You talk to him, you tell him what's going on! Tell him I'm an idiot! You're good at that!" You push the phone into Carson's hands and run into the living room, where you leap onto the sofa and bury your head under a cushion. Still, you can hear low voices, that continue for a very long time.<br/>
<br/>
But eventually Carson comes in with a dark look on his face. "Get up," he says. "It's not like it fucking matters."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you tell him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told him you're a drooling moron, end of story. Now will you get back in there and start memorizing faces like I asked you to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I got a date in thirty minutes I gotta get ready for."<br/>
<br/>
"You can't go on a date! It's a weeknight!"<br/>
<br/>
"Study date. You know, I gotta study hard so I can get back on the squad, so all these girls called up to be my study partner. First session is with the same boobilicious cheerleader I got first period."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! But you don't <i>want</i> back on the squad!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know. So it'll be hopeless. That means I'm gonna have to spend a <i>lotta</i> study dates with—" With a laugh, you dart back into the bedroom before Carson can catch you, and lock yourself in to change.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh God, Joe, you're like a little boy."<br/>
<br/>
You freeze, then stiffly pull your hand from Becky's bosom. "Is that— Are you mad at me?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? No! It's just different, I mean, from the other times. It's adorable, though." She giggles, and leans in to nuzzle the side of your mouth, which spreads in a nervous rictus. "Like a change-up. Oh God, it's always so fun with you, you always know exactly how to—" <br/>
<br/>
She twists around, and throws one leg over your lap so she can scrunch in closer. You gasp and gurgle as she devours the side of your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your brain—your whole body—is buzzing pleasurably when you get back, but you've the presence of mind not to gloat. "You hear from Frank and Joe?" you ask Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," he says, looking up glumly from his own homework. "It was all clear. Turns out Patterson wasn't even a doppelganger."<br/>
<br/>
"How did they figure that out?"<br/>
<br/>
"They didn't really say, except that he wasn't wearing a mask. I guess with that grimoire they figured out a test for who has masks and who doesn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, if they're gonna finish up soon, I'm gonna have to start doubling up my weeknight dates, squeeze in as much—" You kiss your fingertips, like one of those Spanish guys in second period did while talking about one of his <i>chicas.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Lock your door tonight, Will," says Carson. "Or I'll murder you in your sleep."</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221112221121
author_id: seuzz
title: Flying Blind
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The rest of the week goes pretty much exactly like Monday. You quickly learn the names of the girls you want to get to know. The cheerleaders: Alyssa Randal, Rhianna Miller, Becky Torres, Jessica Pearce, Kyra DaSilva, Leslie Keys, Nina Barraza, Ann Sibley, Nikki Cave, and Lorena Espinal. Not all of them are approachable or keenly interested in you, but every one of them is pleased to see you when you turn up at their locker, and you find that their sense of ease with you gives you a sense of ease with them.<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa Randal is the head cheerleader, an African-American girl who has the same kind of social mastery that Chelsea Cooper has back at Westside, but exercised without shrillness, bossiness or unpleasantness. She's got a secondary social group around her, and they too always seem pleased to see you: Mandy Simpson, Tina Branson, Natalie Dawkins, Maddy Caron, and Lisa Rickover. They're a little scarier than the cheerleaders—they take a bunch of AP classes and are always talking about social activism—but you just sit and laugh with them, and it appears that no matter how stupid or inane you act they just accept it and call it "cute."<br/>
<br/>
Except for Lisa Rickover. She keeps staring at you in a way you don't like.<br/>
<br/>
A couple of other girls circle around you, but they seem very shy, and blush every time you look at them. That also makes you feel at ease.<br/>
<br/>
Really, for the first time in your life you feel comfortable and not the least bit scared around girls. It leaves you feeling really envious of the guy you're imitating, even though you're benefiting from his cachet.<br/>
<br/>
With the guys at school it's a little different. For instance, when you run into Jonathan Straussler again early Tuesday morning: Since Joe and Frank were at his place on Monday, you feel like you have to make some reference to it. "Hey, that was fun yesterday, right?" you say to him in an off-hand way. He does a double-take and stares hard at you a moment, then gives a queer half-laugh. "Yeah, it was a lotta fun, Joe. It was great having you and Frank over there. Best thing ever." He gives another queer chuckle, then moves off, bumping you in the shoulder as he goes. The sense that you've miscalculated leaves your heart hammering, but there's no sequel, except that it seems like Jonathan has to suppress a grin every time he sees you after that.<br/>
<br/>
The other guys on the basketball team take you and Frank aside, either singly or in small groups, to express their disappointment at your having to quit the squad. You hem and haw and have to invent excuses when they ask if you'd like to get together for some play time outside practice, but by Thursday all those invites have dried up; and you find out that Carpenter, the team captain, has quietly told them to stop it: "It's not fair teasing him that way," he tells them.<br/>
<br/>
Otherwise, you just continue with the classwork, and when cornered by someone into a conversation, keep the talk to contemporary school topics. "You know, it's pretty lucky everyone thinks Joe's an idiot," you remark to Frank a few days later. "Anytime I say something dumb or out of character, they just chalk it up to that. How are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just keeping my mouth shut," he grumbles. "But it's getting on my nerves. I keep expecting <i>something</i> to blow up." In fact, he's so nervous by Thursday afternoon that he texts both Frank <i>and</i> Joe, asking how long the investigation's going to be. <i>It'll end when it ends,</i> is Joe's blunt reply. Frank doesn't even send back that much.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Of course, maybe you shouldn't be surprised at the success of your impersonations. They did tell you that they've been in the town only a few weeks, so that no one really knows them that well. You and Carson shouldn't congratulate yourselves on being so skillful. <br/>
<br/>
But you feel a little more proud of yourself after handling a particular telephone call on Wednesday night. It comes to Joe's phone—he seems to get all the calls—and you feel some trepidation when you see the number. It's from out of state.<br/>
<br/>
"So you're home," a sharp voice says when you cautiously answer. "You are home, aren't you," it continues when you don't immediately reply. And then it turns teasing in a nasty way. "So why aren't you out on a date? That's where you put your priorities, right? Come on, say something. We haven't talked in awhile."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is this that Dad of theirs?</i> You don't want to commit. "Yeah, sorry, Frank and I've just been busy," you say, fighting down the fist that's risen inside  your throat. "But I actually do have to leave on a date in a bit."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course," your caller honks. "But how's the job out there going?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Okay, "job" must equal "mission," so this must be someone connected to that secret society of theirs.</i> "Still trying to get a handle on things," you say, then follow it by mixing in a little truth. "We, uh, we think one of our leads is pointing over to the other high school, so we're following a thread over there. But it's kind of murky, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a murmur of indistinct voices on the other end before your caller returns. "Uh huh. Well, get it wrapped up nice and soon. I've got a treat for you." The voice turns sly, and gives a little hissing laugh. "Father Ed's flying out to Spain for a conference in December. Get this mission done, and you can go with him, just the two of you, for two weeks over Christmas."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh wow, that'd be great!" you say, hoping you sound as enthusiastic as you're probably supposed to be. Carson comes in from the other room, looking curious. "Uh, I can't promise we'll be done by then—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah yeah, but that'll give you an incentive. Is your brother there? I'd like to talk to both of my sons while I've got you."<br/>
<br/>
You hold out the phone to Carson. "It's Joe and Frank's dad," you quietly hiss at him, and he turns pale. "He wants to talk to you. Take it, I've run out of things to say!" So he takes it with a nervous "Hi Dad" of his own.<br/>
<br/>
He also keeps the conversation brusque and close-mouthed, and his brow is furrowed when he hangs up and hands the phone back to you. "Well, that was weird."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, what was that about you need to look something over?"<br/>
<br/>
"He said something about someone named Kali?" Carson sits and peers at you, but you can only shrug and shake your head. "Yeah, I guess Frank left some kind of school paper with her to look over. Anyway, she says it looks great, so she's going to submit it to some journal of ... philosophology or something."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? Well, I keep hearing that Frank is smart."<br/>
<br/>
"Smart enough to have a scholarly paper published?" Carson asks skeptically. "Anyway, I just said that I'd like to look it over again before it gets sent. So, I guess I'll be getting an email."<br/>
<br/>
So that conversation, though successfully navigated, is another reason Carson texts Frank and Joe on Thursday, for that morning he gets Frank's paper. Vast swaths of it are in another language; when you plug it into Google, it turns out to be Old Norse. "Nodens?" Carson gapes at one of the few words he can make out. "That's, like, a Cthulhu character, one of those monster god things. The hell?" But another Google search turns up that Lovecraft stole it from actual mythology: "Celtic god of the sea and of hunting," he mutters as he reads it to you. "Huh. If Frank's smart enough to write up something on this, I hope he's getting me good grades back at school." And he sends back a reply telling "Kali Toyotomi" that the paper looks okay to publish.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you get through Friday afternoon successfully, and very nicely, too, for you skip fifth period and hide in the deserted orchestra room for some extracurricular canoodling with Becky, who's really getting to be your regular thing. She's extremely direct about telling you what she wants, for instance, and at telling you how to do it, and at telling you how hot and wet it makes her. You feel like you're learning tons just by following her directions, and after that fifth period tutorial you feel eager to put your new skills to work on Saturday's dates, three of which you have lined up beginning at eleven o'clock.<br/>
<br/>
"I have a date too," Carson says as you float dreamily after him to the truck when school lets out. "I'm getting together with Darcy Whitehead tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"Darcy?" You laugh. "Oh man, when Adam Karter finds out that <i>you</i> slipped in with Darcy—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's Adam Karter?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's—? Jesus, and only a few days ago you were yelling at <i>me</i> about learning names. Who's Adam Karter?" You shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever. Before I meet her, though, I wanna go see that professor. You should come."<br/>
<br/>
You stop cold. "What are you talking about? Why do you want to—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because we haven't talked to him in a week, and I wanna find out what he's researched."<br/>
<br/>
"But he won't even know it's you. I mean, you're done up as—" You clam up as a knot of students pass by.<br/>
<br/>
"He knows about the masks, Will," Carson says in a low voice. "I just have to tell him what happened. So are you coming along?"<br/>
<br/>
You've got a date with Becky (again!) this afternoon and evening, and you don't really see the point of going to see that professor again. On the other hand, maybe you should stick together.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211122211212
author_id: seuzz
title: House Calls with Unexpected Consequences
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Fine, go see the professor, but drop me off first," you tell Carson. <br/>
<br/>
"I want you to go too," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Why? You think it's dangerous? Then you shouldn't go out there."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I don't think it's dangerous."<br/>
<br/>
"You said you thought that guy was totally into the magic shit. You said he probably had, like, pentagrams and stuff all over the place."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, I'll take you home first. I know you just wanna jack off before your date."<br/>
<br/>
You don't deign to give that the reply it deserves. The fact is, you're really eager to get laid, not only because it would be really cool, but because you still can't quite bring yourself to play with the fake cock you're having to live with, and the tensions have gotten pretty hairy over the last few days.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Carson's only been gone ten minutes, and you've just started gathering the material that's the excuse for your "study date," when the doorbell rings. You peek outside before answering, but you see nothing but the back of someone's head. You hesitate, but it's probably only one of the guys from Eastman.<br/>
<br/>
But it isn't. "Can I help you," you ask the visitor with ill-disguised distaste.<br/>
<br/>
The face that turns toward you is bloated and discolored and pocked here and there with yawning pores. Lank, filthy hair that was once brown but is now streaked with wolf-gray hangs down to his jawbone. Dark, mica-like eyes glint, and one corner of his mouth half-curls up in an amused sneer. But it's the odor that you mostly notice, the odor of filth and sweat and weeks without washing that rises like steam from his dirty sports coat and undershirt and trousers.<br/>
<br/>
"Can I help you," you ask again when he says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
His arm darts out, quicker than any viper, and he claps a dirty, leathery palm to the back of your neck. At the same time, he jams a hard knee into your groin. An agonizing pain ripples through your torso and limbs, and every fiber in your body loosens with surprise, and in this rag-like state your head is slammed nose-first into another hard knee-cap. The world flashes the color of very dark blood and turns sideways, then another hard crack to the side of your head sends you plunging into darkness. Dimly, numbly, you sense your arms and hands being trussed behind you, and you give yourself up to unconsciousness as the carpet tries merging with what's left of your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Pfah!" you gasp as something cold and wet splashes over your head. You raise up, shaking the water from your face as gently as you can, for you ache all over. You start to topple to the side, but a firm hand grasps you by the hair and pulls you into a sitting position. Your hands and feet, it appears, are bound tightly behind and under you. <br/>
<br/>
A soft towel brushes over your face, and when you open your eyes again you find your assailant smiling into your face with no little malice. "You know what that was for, don't you, kid?" he says gruffly. "It was for not having the manners to invite me in."<br/>
<br/>
You flinch and glance around just long enough to see that you're in the garage, pushed up against one of the walls. Your visitor pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and shakes one out. "Have one on me," he says, and shoves it into the corner of your mouth. "Need a light?"<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing, and your heart starts to beat very hard. It was bad enough having your face beaten in. But to be hogtied and at the mercy of this psychopath— You swallow hard at the thought of a cigarette lighter coming out. <i>Oh God, you hope it's only a cigarette lighter. What if he's got a blow torch?</i><br/>
<br/>
"I asked, do you need a light?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't smoke," you croak.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure you do, kid."<br/>
<br/>
Who are you argue? "Then I'll take a light."<br/>
<br/>
He looks even more amused as he twitches the cigarette from your lips and tosses it away. "What's your name, smart guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe. Joe Durras."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Now, what's your <i>real</i> name?"<br/>
<br/>
"That is my— I got a driver's license, check it out."<br/>
<br/>
"First of all, bright eyes," he says. "'The kid's real name ain't Joe Durras, which you'd know if you were the kid. Second, his real name ain't <i>your</i> real name. So what's your handle? Or what was it, before, you know—" He waves his hand before his own face.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you're talking about! Check my license, it's got—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. To show you how gracious I can be, I'll tell you what I'm talking about. After that, I start taking measures." <br/>
<br/>
From his jacket he extracts the biggest and scariest knife you've ever seen, and again you fruitlessly try to scramble away.<br/>
<br/>
"We're talking about a book," he says. "I don't need to tell you its title. It makes masks, like the one you're wearing right now." He lays the flat of the knife against your cheek. "And if you don't tell me how to get it off you, I'm gonna have to improvise with this."<br/>
<br/>
A great fart blasts out of you. But you've now got an idea of who this guy is. Or, at least, of who sent him. "Are you a friend of Joe's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe yes, maybe no, which answer will get you to talk?" He shifts the knife so that you feel its edge.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus, please! I know Joe! I'm working with him and Frank! We're on the same side!" You feel your eyes rolling, and your chest heaves and shakes. "They're looking for that book, but they had to go undercover! Joe's pretending to be me, and I'm just pretending to be him while—"<br/>
<br/>
"But what's your name?" He twists the knife so that you feel its tip gently pricks the flesh next to your eyeball.<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott!" you shriek. "If you call my phone, you'll get Joe! Call him, he'll tell you everything! I swear to fucking God, he'll tell you—"<br/>
<br/>
The man pulls the knife back. "If I put this away, will you calm down?" he asks, and you nod vigorously. "Good." He lays the knife to the side. "Now, Will Prescott, tell me everything from the beginning."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It takes you a very long time to stammer it all out. You give it at first in a very short burst: You found this crazy magic book and tried getting rid of it, but then noticed these doppelganger types at your school, and then you ran into Frank and Joe, and after they got the Libra back they hid you and Carson under masks of themselves while they went undercover as you and Carson. Your interrogator takes this all in silently and impassively, then has you repeat it again, with more detail, which he probes with questions of his own. When you're done he has only one more question: "What's your phone number, Will Prescott?" You give it to him, and he disappears into the house proper.<br/>
<br/>
He's only gone a minute or two, which is just enough time for you to get really scared that you've landed yourself in even worse trouble. You assume that this is one of Joe's colleagues from that "secret society", but what if he isn't? So you look up fearfully when he reappears with a thin smile. He pushes you onto your belly, and you feel your bonds part. "Okay, Will Prescott, you've got thirty seconds to beat some feeling back into your arms and legs before we leave."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you talk to Joe?" Stiffly, with muscles screaming, you get to your feet. A wave of pain ripples through your head, and you fight the urge to vomit.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I couldn't get Joe to answer, which is why we're going to your place, Will Prescott. Depending on what we find there, maybe we'll try finding Frank at your friend Carson Ioeger's house."<br/>
<br/>
"You, uh, you're a friend of theirs? Right?"<br/>
<br/>
He smiles mirthlessly. "I wonder what they'd say if you asked <i>them</i> that. Let's just say I've worked with them. Feeling okay now?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. I mean, I'm glad you've figured out that you want to tell me the truth no matter what I ask. So you're feeling pretty shitty?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. <i>Good.</i>" He takes you firmly by the shoulder and pushes you into and through the house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He waits in the car—a junker sedan that must be at least twenty years old—while you slowly walk to the front door of your old house. "Go get Joe," he'd said. "If he doesn't want to come with us, then he probably won't come with us. But it'll go better for you if he does."<br/>
<br/>
You really didn't like that last bit.<br/>
<br/>
Your little brother, Robert, opens the door when you ring the doorbell. "Will!" he yells back into the house. "It's for you!" He leaves the door hanging open and disappears.<br/>
<br/>
A minute later Will Prescott—scrawny, unkempt, quizzical-looking—appears. "Yeah?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"We need to talk," you say. "Uh, Rick Bredon just blew into town," you say, employing the name the stranger had given you to use. "He wants to talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
Your replacement stares at you, and his brow furrows: It looks like he's straining to remember something. "Yeah, okay," he says slowly. "Mom, I'll be back in a little while," he yells. You wince. "So what's this about," he asks you as he follows you down the walk.<br/>
<br/>
"It's about the masks, Joe," you hiss at him. "Isn't this Rick Bredon guy a friend of yours?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me," he says. "I don't even know who <i>you</i> are."</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111222111222112121
author_id: seuzz
title: Interrogations and Complications
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stop cold. "Joe, this isn't funny," you say. "This Bredon guy's got a big ass knife and he's not one to fuck around with. If you don't—"<br/>
<br/>
You end in mid-sentence, and it's not just because your replacement is giving you a bug-eyed look of incomprehension. Bredon has gotten out of the car and opened the trunk. "Get in," he tells you, and points to its dark interior.<br/>
<br/>
You stare, and come real close to sprinting off, but something in the way he's smiling tells you that Bredon would probably like it if you ran, and would like it when he caught you, and would like the chance to do certain things to you once he caught you, and that they're things you'd rather not have practiced on your body. So with trembling knees, you shuffle over to his sedan and crawl into the trunk. He slams it hard, locking you into the smelly darkness. After a few moments, the engine rumbles to life, and you bang your shoulder on something sharp as the car lurches forward.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure how long the drive lasts. An hour, maybe? There are pauses—at stop signs and traffic lights, probably—and three other longer pauses when the engine shuts off. Through the back wall of the trunk you can hear muffled voices. You strain to listen, though you can't make out the words. At least it keeps your mind from your discomfort and your mounting fear and confusion.<br/>
<br/>
But after a very long and uncomfortable drive, the sedan parks and footsteps sound and the trunk pops open again. "Everybody out," Bredon says dryly as he steps back, and makes no move to help you. Your bruises are cold and aching now, and it's only with great difficulty that you clamber, blinking, into the late afternoon sun.<br/>
<br/>
You're in the parking lot at Westside High School, in front of the gym. You and Bredon are alone. "What's going on," you ask in a thick voice. <br/>
<br/>
"You said you and your friend Ioeger heard these doppelgangers—" Scorn drips from the last word "—in some kind of a loft up here. You know how to get into it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can show you the staircase where it is," you say. With a half smile, Bredon gestures you to lead the way. "What did Joe say?" you ask fearfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean nothing?" He doesn't reply. "Could we go find Frank?"<br/>
<br/>
"I already did. Same story."<br/>
<br/>
"How could they say nothing?" you whine.<br/>
<br/>
"Simple," he says, and pauses to examine the lock on the side door before popping it open with some thin metal tools he takes from a pocket. "I spent the afternoon talking to two idiot high school seniors," he continues, and pushes you into the gym. "One of them swore his name was Will Prescott, and the other swore his name was Carson Ioeger."<br/>
<br/>
"But— But <i>I'm</i> Will Prescott!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I believe you," Bredon says dryly. "The way I figure, what kind of a numbnuts would want to pretend to 'Will Prescott'? But they told me the same story you told me. Well, up to a point. They said they never heard of the kid and the cadet."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe and Frank," he says quietly. "Now where do we find this loft?"<br/>
<br/>
Dizziness sweeps over you. There's only one conclusion to draw, and you groan at this new complication.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you thinking, Will Prescott," Bredon asks as he follows at your elbow. "I don't like this silence, and I don't feel like talking myself, so why don't you make with the running commentary."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Just talk, and fast. What are you thinking?"<br/>
<br/>
You lick your lips. "I'm thinking that Joe and Frank don't like you, that you're some kind of enemy. Because that <i>was</i> Joe and Frank you picked up this afternoon, and if they're pretending they're me and Carson it must be because they don't want to get mixed up with you. Which I don't blame them," you add very quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, funny that. They sure did a good job pretending not to be themselves. True, I don't know the facts about Will Prescott and Carson Ioeger, but the guys I talked to sure improvised some convincing biographies. The kid I could see making up a convincing lie, but not the cadet. If those guys weren't Will Prescott and Carson Ioeger, how did they know so much about them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because Joe and Frank made these advanced masks of me and Carson? They—"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean, 'advanced'? Hold that thought." You're now at the top of the staircase leading to the loft, and Bredon unpicks the lock on the door. He pushes the door open and glances inside. "Okay, you were saying?" He pushes you inside.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, the way they explained it, the book can make basic masks or advanced masks. The basic masks just copy bodies and faces, but the advanced ones—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I get it. You got the bargain model, so that's why you don't know me." Bredon shuts the door as you nod. "But the boys made deluxe copies of you and Ioeger for themselves, gives them everything else?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. The advanced ones copy brains and things, give you memories and stuff, apparently. The doppelgangers were—"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop calling them 'doppelgangers', Prescott. Save words for what they go with. You're just talking about lookalikes, imposters. And you think this was their factory?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. But they were replacing people who hang out up here. Basketball players and their girlfriends."<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's look around. You take that side."<br/>
<br/>
"What are we looking for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Anything that looks like something that doesn't belong here. Excepting you and me, of course."<br/>
<br/>
The loft is up in the corner of the gym: a long and narrow space that runs along most of one side of the wall under some rafters. Windows look out over the parking lot, and the roof is held up by wooden supports. It is stacked deep with packing grates, gymnastic equipment, boxes, mats, and a couple of tall cupboards. Most of the crates are nailed shut, and the boxes sealed, but you look all around them and between them. Bredon takes the cupboard, and finds it empty. There's also a dorm refrigerator, containing some beer and cold pizza. You open one box whose flaps aren't sealed, and find pornography inside. You don't call any attention to it, since it's exactly what you'd expect to find up here. "You know, Joe said that he and Frank got in here, and they cleaned it out of everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. They got that book, and they also brought back a bunch of masks in a box."<br/>
<br/>
"What would they have done with that stuff, do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. They took it with them."<br/>
<br/>
"If you had to guess, Prescott, what do you think Joe and Frank are up to now?"<br/>
<br/>
You couldn't really say. "I don't know. They said they were going undercover, to smoke out the doppel—The imposters. That's why they wanted to switch places with me and Carson."<br/>
<br/>
"So you told me. You still think that's what they're doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I don't know anything about them, like I don't know anything about you."<br/>
<br/>
"Right."<br/>
<br/>
"They did say— We saw Frank on Monday. He was disguised as Carson, you know. He came out to pick up some clothes, because he and Joe had to go to this guy's house as themselves."<br/>
<br/>
"What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"The guy invited us—Carson and me, you know, because he thought we were Joe and Frank." You tell him about Straussler's invitation, and how you thought Patterson might be aiming to trap and replace the Eastman student. "Joe texted to say it was all okay, that Patterson wasn't a dopp— Hey, I can show you that text, that'll show you that—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Skip it. But they never called to say that they'd caught an imposter, in all this time? Didn't you give them a whole list of suspects?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. But with the advanced masks, you know, the imposters can be perfect copies."<br/>
<br/>
"But they said this Patterson guy wasn't a fake. So they must've figured out how to separate the sheep from the wolves."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't understand what's going on, Mr. Bredon," you whine. "Really. Me and Carson were just so scared, and when Joe and Frank showed up—"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me about that again. As much detail as you can remember."<br/>
<br/>
But before you can start, heavy footsteps sound on the stairs outside. You give Bredon a panicked look, but he doesn't look the least bit disturbed. Someone fumbles at the lock; the door opens; and Gordon Black walks in.<br/>
<br/>
He has to duck his head, of course, because he's more than six and a half feet tall, and it seems like his shoulders can barely squeeze through the frame. But Bredon only gives him quick sidelong glance before turning back to you. "Go on, Prescott," he says as Gordon stares at the two of you with silent astonishment. "You were saying?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" Your eyes bulge at Gordon, and you stammer. "Oh. Well, Ioeger emailed this guy about—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who the fuck are you?" Gordon demands.<br/>
<br/>
"None of your business," Bredon replies without looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not supposed to be up here!"<br/>
<br/>
"And yet here we are, to everyone's everlasting astonishment. Go on, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow. "Ioeger emailed this guy about that book—"<br/>
<br/>
"The <i>Libra Personae?</i>" Bredon asks casually. "The book that makes magical full-body disguises of people?"<br/>
<br/>
"This is school property," Gordon growls. "And you— Durras!" He snaps his fingers and glares at you. "The fuck are you doing up here?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's with me," Bredon says. "If you wanna listen in, I don't mind, but keep your mouth shut and stop interrupting."<br/>
<br/>
"You're trespassing, fucker, and if I call the cops—"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to listen to us? That's interesting, considering what I just said." Bredon smiles thinly. "But did you know that someone's been listening in on <i>you</i>?" He turns toward a nearby duct, and taps on the vent. "They know everything you and your friends have been getting up to for the past few weeks. What do you think of that?"</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221112221121211
author_id: seuzz
title: People Who Don't Confess … And Some Who Do
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You haven't got any secrets, not from us." Bredon's tone is casual, insolent. "Not if you're one of those guys who likes to come up here and sling the shit at the top of his lungs."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon reddens, but his expression only shows confusion, not anger or fear. "So what the hell should I care?" he says. "What have I been saying that's got you all— Who <i>are</i> you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind." Bredon turns to you. "Stonehenge here knows your name," he says as he cocks his head at Gordon. "What's his?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon Black," you say quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! He was at the top of the list of suspects, wasn't he?"<br/>
<br/>
"Suspects?" Gordon's eyes start from his head. "The fuck are you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Relax, Stonehenge. I'm not here to bust your balls. On the contrary, I want in on it." Bredon relaxes against a wooden crate. "Like I said, you and your friends have been talking and playing to an appreciative gallery. Like Prescott here." Now he jerks his head at you. "He's let it all slip out, he knows the buzzer's sounded and the only way to keep alive is by making a three-point shot. Go on, Prescott. Tell your friend here that I want one of those masks too."<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you're the most confused person in the loft, but the guy who looks like Gordon sure looks like he's trying to snag that honor for himself. He blinks—seemingly with a lot of effort—then pulls a phone from his pocket. "I don't know who you are, but I'm calling my dad, and he's a cop, and he—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, don't do that, Stonehenge. If you do that, you won't get your magic book back."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
Bredon laughs: a dry, rustling sound. "You believe the brass of this guy? I'm talking about a book about this big, covered in red leather, that let you steal Gordon Black's face and body and girlfriend and family and life and make it your own. Ring any bells? I assume you've still got some friends that are in the market for new bodies. If you don't let me play, you're not going to be able to oblige them."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon stares, his mouth hanging open, then shakes his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, you psychotic fuck. But I'm calling the—"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright." From his pocket Bredon takes a card and holds it out to the red-faced basketball player. "That's my personal number on there. If you change your mind, that's where you can reach me. And I suggest you talk my offer over with your friends—Matthias, Javits, Patterson, Saunders, whoever else is in on it. Do it somewhere that hasn't been compromised, though." He taps again on the vent. "Come on, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you think Gordon is going to block you, but he stands aside, his face showing astonishment and utter perplexity as you and Bredon go past. When you're halfway down the stairs, Gordon slams the door.<br/>
<br/>
Like a deer, Bredon is away, off the staircase and around a corner. You hurry after, and just glimpse him vanishing into the boys' changing room. You follow the rush of footsteps past the showers and into the maintenance area. You almost collide with him when you catch up to him, as he's opening and ducking into that access door. He puts his palm to the duct you and Carson listened at, and motions you to be silent.<br/>
<br/>
You have the subtle impression that the tiny space has gotten much roomier. Then you hear Gordon's voice, sounding so strong and clear that he might actually be standing next to you. He must be on the phone, for though he's talking to someone, you've only his side of the conversation.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I'm at the school, you wanna come up? I gotta check this place out, see if anything's missing, and anyway, I want some company."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. There was some fuckhead— Two of 'em, actually. You know that new blonde fucker over at Eastman? Durras? Yeah, he broke in here with some smelly old homeless guy—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I came up here because, pfft, Chelsea was being a triple-wide cunt this afternoon. Anyway, I find Durras and this homeless dickhead in here. And they're talking like, I dunno, all crazy."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno! They musta busted in. I threw 'em out, and they didn't look like they took anything with 'em, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know, I thought maybe <i>you</i> mighta had something valuable up here."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, the beer's still here. But they were talking about— Did you have some kind of book up here? Or Halloween costume? Because they kept talking about books and masks."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck him. Lynch's been walking around like a whipped dog for the last, I dunno, last week or fuck something. Did you do something to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Then it must be the rag. He hasn't even been up here since— Well, I haven't seen him up here all week. So c'mon, man, I'm dyin' up here. If I don't—"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, sure. That's great for you. Give her one anally for me. See you tomorrow? Yeah. Later. And <i>fuck you like a fag,</i> you fucking piece of <i>shit!</i>" There's a slight thud and loud thump, and the sound of a can being cracked open. A pause, and Gordon belches. "Son of a goddamned <i>bitch,</i>" he hoarsely mutters.<br/>
<br/>
You and Bredon remain rigid for some long moments, but Gordon doesn't call anyone else, and he only mutters inarticulately at a few places. Finally, Bredon gestures you to follow him, and he exits the changing room and the gym. "So where's your buddy Ioeger now," he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You've told Bredon a lot, but not everything: you've not mentioned Blackwell. "He was out running errands. You know, like shopping. He has a date tonight. So do I."<br/>
<br/>
"U-huh. Call him, find out if he's home yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. But he's just going to tell you what I told you."<br/>
<br/>
"So you hope. Go on. Call him."<br/>
<br/>
You do. Carson answers, and says he's home and asks where you've been. Before you can answer, Bredon takes the phone from you and studies the number pad, and with a raised finger tells you to stay where you are. Then he shuts the phone off and gets in his car. <br/>
<br/>
You lean in at his window. "What are you doing?" <br/>
<br/>
"Relieving you of your phone," Bredon says as he tosses it aside. He starts the car.<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on! Where are you—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm heading to your place to talk to Ioeger. If you wanna sit in on it, better start jogging." He punches the accelerator and races off, leaving you to cough in a cloud of exhaust.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joe Durras is in excellent physical condition, so you're able to sprint without pausing for long stretches. Still, you're on the other side of the city from where the Durrases rent, and it takes a very long time before you pant up to the door. Bredon's sedan is in the driveway behind the Durras's truck. You probably should have scoped things out before barging in; but you're so sick and angry and exhausted that you just burst through the front door anyway.<br/>
<br/>
A bloodied and scared-looking Frank Durras—Carson, that is—is huddling on the floor. Bredon, who is looming over him, looks up with an amused smile as you come in. "Perfect timing, Prescott," he says, and slips that knife back into his pocket. "How about you fix yourself and Ioeger some dinner. You could probably both use the sustenance."<br/>
<br/>
"Carson, are you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's fine," says Bredon. "You're both fine. In fact, you're both much better off than either of you have any right to be." He looks between you and Carson. "Your phone's on the table, Prescott. Leave it on, I'll be in touch." You get out of the way as he shuffles over to the front door. "It's been a very interesting evening," he says. "I don't remember the last time I had so much fun. Oh, one last bit of advice, Ioeger." Carson flinches. "Stay away from warlocks." And he goes.<br/>
<br/>
You rush over to Carson, but he slaps you away moodily when you try to help him up. "Where the fuck have you been?"<br/>
<br/>
"Trying to get back here! What did he do to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"What does it look like?" Carson is bruised and has little cuts and knicks on his face. "Where'd that psycho come from?"<br/>
<br/>
"He showed up here just after you left. He cut me too. Well, he came close to it," you grudgingly confess. "But he's been hauling me around in the trunk of his car all over town. What did he ask you about?"<br/>
<br/>
"About who I was and how I got here. If we ever get out of this, Prescott, I swear I'm never talking to you again."<br/>
<br/>
"You did tell him the truth, didn't you? Because I did."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I didn't hold anything back." He stumbles into a bathroom and runs water all over his face. It looks like most of the cuts are only superficial, because once the blood is gone you can't see any of the scratches on his face. "Did he at least tell <i>you</i> who he is?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Rick Bredon. Well, that's the name he gave me. I thought at first he was a friend of Frank and Joe's, but—" <br/>
<br/>
Carson follows you back into the living room, and you give him a long recital of the afternoon's excitement. He barks in excitement or incredulity at many spots, and pales at the news that Joe and Frank have clammed up. "We need to talk to them," Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know who to trust," you say. "It's like they took that book and disappeared and left us in the lurch. You're gonna tell me I'm crazy, but I think our best chance now might be with the doppelgangers."<br/>
<br/>
"It's all so crazy that nothing's crazy," Carson says. "But Joe and Frank have the book."<br/>
<br/>
"But the doppelgangers know how it works. I think we should try talking to Javits."</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211122211212111
author_id: seuzz
title: How the Date of Your Dreams Took a Very Bad Turn
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Carson doesn't want to go find Javits, and you don't feel strongly enough to press it. You do rock-paper-scissors to see whether you'll drive out to confront Joe or Frank, and since you win, you take the wheel on the drive to your old house. On the way, you and Carson exchange more notes and hypotheses about what's going on. He tells you about his talk with the professor, who had no news, but was very interested to hear that Frank and Joe had changed places with the two of you.<br/>
<br/>
It's dark by now, and you're just turning into your subdivision when a ghostly white truck appears, going the other way. You slam on the brakes and turn around: "That's my truck!"<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome. So follow it!" Carson retorts. You grind the gears as you comply.<br/>
<br/>
You keep your distance, trying not to be obvious about the tail. Maybe you succeed, or maybe he just doesn't care, for the driver in front makes no effort to shake you. But your sense of disquiet grows as you recognize where he's going, and your hands are trembling when you stop at the end of the street half a block from where your truck pulls to the curb. "Where are we?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Linwood Acres," you say hollowly. "That's Lisa Yarborough's house up there."<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa? The fuck is he doing here? I thought she was going around with—"<br/>
<br/>
"Will you shut up? I wanna see what's going on."<br/>
<br/>
"So how's my talking screwing with your watching?"<br/>
<br/>
You slap him, and he slaps you back. And you fume as the skinny kid who looks like you goes up to Lisa's door, and returns a little later with her on his arm. They drive off.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, that's definitely Joe," you hiss as you put the truck in gear and follow them. "Son of a bitch! He's after Lisa!"<br/>
<br/>
"After her? Like how?"<br/>
<br/>
"How do you think? All those girls he had back at Eastman, and now he has to get mine back at Westside!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Christ, she's not your girlfriend anymore, Prescott. In fact, wasn't she going around telling people she never was?" He blocks you as you hit him again. "And aren't you supposed to be on a date right now with some cheerleader that <i>Joe</i> was chasing?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's different!" you sputter, and punch the accelerator to jump a red light.<br/>
<br/>
"How?"<br/>
<br/>
"It just is! Joe's taking advantage of Lisa! She thinks that's me, but it's that fucking reptile!"<br/>
<br/>
"So? You're taking advantage of those girls at Eastman. They think it's Joe who's—"<br/>
<br/>
"But this is different," you yell again. Maybe if you keep screaming it, that <i>will</i> make it different.<br/>
<br/>
"The point is," you say after Carson has lapsed into an angry silence. "The point is that Joe was pretending today that he was me—"<br/>
<br/>
"Like he's been doing for a week now."<br/>
<br/>
"—and now we've got him red-handed acting like himself."<br/>
<br/>
"Great. So what?"<br/>
<br/>
"So, it means when we catch up to him, he can't pull that dumb act again like he did with Bredon."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, believe me, Prescott, if he's pretending to be you, he'll have no trouble acting dumb."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll just catch him, and you'll see. Oh God, they're not, are they? They're not heading out to—"<br/>
<br/>
"I think they are. Fuck!" Carson laughs. "Wouldn't it be hilarious if he lost your virginity for you?"<br/>
<br/>
Sure enough, the truck ahead turns off the old highway and prowls down the side road to the river's edge. <i>The river.</i> Where people go to get laid. The bank is already crowded with vehicles, and couples walking along hand in hand. You grasp at the faint hope that your double and Lisa are just going to socialize with some of them.<br/>
<br/>
But the truck ahead prowls further and further down, passing other access roads, and leaving the other cars and couples behind, until it comes to a lonely spot cut off from all other vehicles. You pass it as it parks, and move around a bend until you're out of sight before turning off the engine. "What are you doing," Carson hisses as you turn off the motor. "Let's just go find Frank and—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I gotta stop this," you say as you hop from the cab.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott! Will!" Carson calls you, but you're already sprint back toward your truck. Footsteps chase you, but with a burst you close on your quarry and yank the driver's side door open. Dim figures inside wheel and gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey there, Joe, remember me?" you cry, and yank the driver out. You've just time to see Lisa's face—white and staring, her mouth a perfect "O"—before you slam the door shut and throw your prey to the ground. Will Prescott looks up at you with a bewildered and very frightened look on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, stop it!" Carson yells, and grabs at you. <br/>
<br/>
You shake him loose and lay hands again on Prescott. "What do you think you're doing, Joe?" you yell at him. "What were you going to do with her? Huh? What were you doing, asshole?" You grab him by the belt and the shoulders and hustle him back toward his own truck.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you? Who the fuck <i>are</i> you?" he cries.<br/>
<br/>
Behind you, Lisa yells at you to let her friend go. Carson grabs and wrenches your hands from your replacement. You wheel and punch him in the side of the head, and he falls into the dirt. Prescott tries running, but you grab him again and force him to back along toward the truck. He howls all the way.<br/>
<br/>
Carson catches up just as you've slammed Prescott against the side of the truck. "Will, stop this bullshit! This isn't—!"<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't what? We came out to talk to him, right?" you yell back. "Well, now we're gonna talk to him."<br/>
<br/>
"We're gonna have the cops on us! Lisa's calling them now!"<br/>
<br/>
"So get and drive! Here's the—! Key's in the ignition! You drive, I'll talk to this double-crossing fuckface in the back." You force Prescott into the bed of the truck and hold him down. Carson, his face white under the moon, gets in the truck and starts it up.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, Durras. Talk!" You crouch over your double, pinning him to cold, hard, metal bed of the truck. "What the fuck are you up to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you? What do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"I want you to talk! Who's that Rick Bredon guy, and why did you pretend like you didn't know me this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I don't know you!"<br/>
<br/>
You seize him by the hair at the top of his head, and he screams as you pull it. You clamp a hand over his mouth. "Listen, fucker, Carson's going to take us someplace really quiet, where you can scream your head off because no one will be able to hear you. But if you don't want to scream, just tell me what I want to know. Do you understand?"<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't respond. He just clenches up his eyes and cries.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a long, tiresome, and (on your side) fairly brutal interrogation before Carson finally pulls to a stop out in the country and joins you in the back. After you get tired of Prescott's repeated pleas of ignorance, you force him to tell you about his talk with Bredon this afternoon. "We just talked," he says. "He asked me about this book that I found at Arnholm's."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you tell him?"<br/>
<br/>
What follows, to your consternation, is a recital of the story that you've been telling other people: Of finding a strange book and trying to hide it; and of being haunted and harried by a sense that doppelgangers are closing around. But this story ends much more abruptly than your own. It ends with this Will Prescott finding a mask in Nurse Shaffer's office on a Friday afternoon, and running away ... And then finding himself back at home with a weekend missing from his life.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what happened," he insists. "I've been scared! There's just this big blank spot. Carson's got one too. We're running away, and then we don't know what happened. Only that we're home, and it's Monday night, and everyone is acting normal. But I can't shake the feeling that there's—" He looks around nervously. "That there's doppelgangers around." His eyes twist up with misery.<br/>
<br/>
"Monday," Carson says reflectively. "That was the day that Frank and Joe went out to Jonathan Straussler's place, to see Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
"You think the doppelgangers got them," you ask. "Gave 'em magical amnesia or something?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson tugs at his lip. "But I talked to Joe afterward. After they left Jonathan's."<br/>
<br/>
"Unless it wasn't Joe." You point to your face. "Unless it was someone in a mask."<br/>
<br/>
You both shudder.<br/>
<br/>
You take Prescott back to his truck, and you tell him that you're actually friends and that you're trying to help him and Carson fight the doppelgangers. Naturally, he looks unconvinced. Lisa has apparently gotten a ride back, for she's not at his truck, and you and Carson watch with a sense of disquiet as he drives away.<br/>
<br/>
Only afterwards do you realize that you forgot to ask what he was doing out here at the river with Lisa. It seems really out of character for a Will Prescott who's suffering from amnesia and worried about doppelgangers.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have vivid nightmares that night. In one, you are chased by a vast, lumbering, implacable monster that seems wrapped all about with burlap. It finally catches you and presses you to the ground and pushes its face—a burlap face that smells of damp earth—into yours to smother you. You wake with a groan and a shiver.<br/>
<br/>
But waking is pleasant in another regard: A smell of frying bacon and eggs filters through your door. You stretch and dress and go out to say nice things to Carson about fixing breakfast.<br/>
<br/>
Imagine your shock when you find it's Rick Bredon in the kitchen fixing breakfast.<br/>
<br/>
And Gordon Black and Steve Patterson are sitting at the dining room table.</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111222111222112121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Breakfast of Champions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Morning, Prescott," Bredon says. "How do you like your eggs? Scrambled it is," he adds when you don't reply.<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on?" you ask. Gordon and Steve are looking almost as freaked out as you feel.<br/>
<br/>
"Hope you don't mind the way I let us in," Bredon replies. "It was cold outside. Go get Ioeger. Coffee'll be ready in a minute."<br/>
<br/>
You back slowly out of the dining room.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There are no greetings when you and Carson join the others at the small dining room table. Bredon silently slides plates in front of each of you, and sets down one for himself. He sets out five cups of coffee as well. Four of them are full, but Bredon takes only half a cup. You'd guess he's being careful of caffeine, until he fills the cup the rest of the way with a brown liquid poured from a flask.<br/>
<br/>
Four high school seniors eat quietly, not talking, watching each other out of the corners of their eyes. Bredon also doesn't talk, but wolfs his food down quickly, and guzzles his coffee appreciatively. "Much better," he says when he's done. "The harder the case, the hollower I get." His eyes gleam and his teeth are sharp as he glances around. "Now then, boys, I don't much like to talk, even when I have to, so how about you introduce yourselves for me." He leans back insolently.<br/>
<br/>
A long and uncomfortable silence follows. Four big high school boys shift in their seats like small children. Eyes glance off each other and look away. Shoulders hunch. Bredon just smiles.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon Black," the big guy across the table from you finally mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Steve Patterson," his friend says, sounding much more angry.<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott," you say, taking a deep breath as you do so.<br/>
<br/>
"Carson Ioeger."<br/>
<br/>
Black and Patterson both jump a little, and stare at Carson. They dart suspicious glances at you, and then back at Bredon. "You know that name?" the latter casually asks. "Ioeger?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know <i>a</i> Carson Ioeger," says Gordon. "Puke-faced little twig always mouthing off with his friends about shit that's none of his fucking business." His eyes glitter as he stares at Carson. Your friend smiles tightly back.<br/>
<br/>
"And this is him?" Bredon asks, and drinks deeply from his cup.<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't look like him," says Patterson. His eyes—so pale and gray and cold—gleam.<br/>
<br/>
"And yet he talks like Ioeger, acts like Ioeger, knows things that only Ioeger could know." Bredon shrugs. "So if he doesn't look like Ioeger, who <i>does</i> he look like?"<br/>
<br/>
"A guy named Frank Durras," Gordon mutters after a long pause.<br/>
<br/>
"What is this bullshit," exclaims Patterson. "I don't understand what's going on. You bust me outta my house—"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't understand what's going on," Bredon interrupts, though his tone is mild, "because you're missing a couple of days. That's what you told me when we had our six o'clock chat."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson looks pained and glances at Black.<br/>
<br/>
"You got a big blank spot, just like your friend," Bredon continues. He takes a little black notebook from his pocket, glances into it. "A couple of your other friends, I'd bet, probably also got blank spots as well. A guy named Javits, some girls named Saunders and Walsh, a few others. I haven't checked them out, of course." He closes the notebook and puts it away. "But you'll be happy to know you're not alone."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that got to do with these two?" Gordon's eyes are slits as he turns to you and Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"They're here to help me give a little demonstration, so you'll understand what happened to you. You say they look like the Durras boys. That they do. But it's just a disguise. As they told you, their real names are Carson Ioeger and Will Pres—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, bullshit!" Patterson exclaims. "No disguise, no latex mask is that good. I know Ioeger, and he's— Pssht!" He waves his hand with rude dismissiveness, and his face curls up in an ugly sneer.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a very good disguise," Bredon says. "As for what kind of disguise it is, watch."<br/>
<br/>
He takes that knife out. Everyone at the table rears back, but no one dares move more than that.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly Bredon moves around the table. First from Gordon and Steve, then from you and Carson, he slices off a thick lock of hair, dropping it on the table before each person. "Keep an eye on those," he says. "Well, keep an eye on Ioeger's and Prescott's. That's where the action'll be."<br/>
<br/>
But for many long and slow minutes there is no action. Carson has made a little grunting noise, and you're on the verge of asking what's supposed to happen, when the tufts of hair he clipped from you and your friend evaporate in a little puff of dust. There's a sharp intake of breath from around the table, and Carson gingerly puts his fingers to where they had been. He also touches the hair from Gordon and Steve, which remains solid.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a kind of illusion," Bredon says after draining his coffee cup. "One that doesn't last long when bits of it get sliced off the main mass. I noticed it yesterday while playing mumblety-peg with these two. I poked Prescott to get him to talk, and came away with a little spot of blood. Went to wipe it off afterward, and it was gone. I made a note of it. Later, I talked to two other fellas—skinnier and uglier than these two—and gave each of 'em a little hair trim, found the trimmings didn't last but a few minutes. Blood, hair, probably lots of things don't last when they come off someone who's wearing one of these disguises."<br/>
<br/>
"So these guys—" Carson picks up the lock of Gordon's hair between his fingers, and rubs it. "These are the real guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Stonehenge!" Gordon turns sharply at the word. "What's the last day you remember before your amnesia kicks in?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was about two weeks ago," Gordon says uneasily. He chews a fingernail. "It was a Wednesday, I remember, because it was—" He blushes and falls silent. Under prodding, he mumbles something.<br/>
<br/>
"It was a Wednesday, because his girlfriend promised him a real 'Hump Day'," Patterson says, and Gordon shoots him a very dirty look.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the last thing you remember from that day?"<br/>
<br/>
"Seth Javits wanted to talk to me about something," says Gordon, "so I skipped fifth period, went back to the portables. We were talking, and something like a monkey jumped on me from behind."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the first thing you remember when it all starts up again?"<br/>
<br/>
"I woke up in the loft, naked. It was Monday night. I found some clothes down in—"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright. What about you, Flagpole?" Bredon says to Patterson. "When did the tunnel start, and when did it end?"<br/>
<br/>
"Around the same time," Patterson says. He stares hard at Gordon, then glares at you and Carson. "It was Thursday morning, after practice, and—" He turns back to staring at Gordon. When he resumes, he speaks very slowly. "Gordon and Seth wanted to talk, so we skipped a period and I went upstairs with them. I turned around at one point, and someone—I thought it was <i>you</i>—grabbed me from behind. It felt like something went over my face."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon turns very pale.<br/>
<br/>
"And when did you wake up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Monday. In my car, in front of my house."<br/>
<br/>
"And no one, none of your friends, asked where you went or what happened to you during that week you can't remember?" Bredon asks, and both the ball players shake their heads. "So you just assumed you'd taken a blow to the skull or something, and went on like nothing had happened." They nod.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know where you were," Bredon continues. "But I can tell you the reason no one noticed you were gone. That's because while you were blacked out, there were two guys walking around pretending to be you. It's like with these two jokers," he says, and points to you and Carson. "Someone made disguises of you and your friends, and they replaced you. There were others." Again, he consults that notebook. "Javits, Saunders, and Walsh, for a start. Matthias—"<br/>
<br/>
"Dane Matthias?" asks Gordon sharply. "He was hanging around those portables when I met Javits."<br/>
<br/>
"That was probably the monkey who jumped you. Well, someone done up to look like Matthias. Same as it was someone done up to look like <i>you</i> who grabbed your friend Patterson when it was <i>his</i> turn to be replaced."<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," Carson exclaims. "How do we know these two guys are really the real ones? We told you that there are these two kinds of masks. Sure, the kind Prescott and I are wearing, the hair and blood might disappear. But what about the advanced masks? Maybe these guys are still—"<br/>
<br/>
"The other masks work like yours," says Bredon calmly. "I told you, I tried it out on those imposters pretending to be you and your friend. Same thing happened with them as with you two. The hair doesn't last."<br/>
<br/>
"But I don't get it," you blurt out. "Are you saying that Frank and Joe rescued Black and Patterson, and got rid of their doppelegangers?"<br/>
<br/>
"And Joe told us they tested Patterson on Monday," says Carson. "They said he wasn't a doppelganger."<br/>
<br/>
"When was that?" Bredon says. "What time on Monday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Afternoon, I guess. Right after school."<br/>
<br/>
"And what time did you wake up in your car?" he asks Steve.<br/>
<br/>
"Around nine."<br/>
<br/>
Bredon pulls at his nose, and sniffs.<br/>
<br/>
"So they were wrong about Patterson not being a doppelganger?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"They didn't have a chance to be wrong," Bredon says. "Because it wasn't Joe and Frank by that point. Last Friday they left you here while they went off to talk to Gordon Black. While they were gone, you two boys went to talk to a university professor. You came back, and a little later Frank and Joe came back too.<br/>
<br/>
"Except they didn't. It was two imposters who came back here, and put you inside those masks you're wearing now."</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221112221121211111
author_id: seuzz
title: Rick Bredon Explains It All
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Friday afternoon, a week ago, that's when things really began to get interesting," Rick Bredon says. Everyone is deathly quiet: You and Carson are stunned; Gordon and Steve deeply confused, probably. "But for the sake of some at this table, I'll run things back a little further than that."<br/>
<br/>
Before he starts, though, he gets himself some more coffee, to which he adds an even greater helping of liquor from his flask. <br/>
<br/>
"I won't say how it got started, or why it started at your high school, or who's responsible for starting it there. Suffice it to say that into this little nothing of a burg there fell a very old book, a book of instructions on how to make false faces like—" He waves a ragged finger in the general direction of you and Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"And someone locally found it and learned how to use it. This someone had friends, and these someones decided to make themselves some false faces of some of the kids at your high school."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" Gordon demands. "Who was doing this?" He glares murder at you and Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, someone," Bredon repeats. "I'm not prepared yet to reveal any names. But they made false faces of the people I've previously listed. As I said, I don't know what they did with you—where they put you—but they put you away somewhere and slipped into your place, and used your faces to get rid of some more of your friends so their friends could take <i>their</i> places. That was happening last month, and it was still happening as recently as last Friday.<br/>
<br/>
"But as careful as these someones had been, they weren't careful enough. A couple of kids at your high school noticed some odd things. They saw people acting out of character, and overheard some frightening conversations, and one of these kids at least already had reason to suspect there were imposters about. This kid and one of his friends panicked, but they didn't panic so bad that they lost their heads. They kept their wits sufficiently that they made the acquaintance of Frank and Joe Durras. I won't tell you who <i>they</i> are, because you already think you know them, even though you don't, not really, not the way <i>I</i> know them.<br/>
<br/>
"But these two panic-stricken kids— Oh, why be coy, it's these two here, Ioeger and Prescott. They met up with Frank and Joe, told them all about what was going on, what they'd overheard and what they feared. That was Friday afternoon, last week. Frank and Joe said they could take care of the problem—they puffed themselves up as a pair of expert exterminators—and they left Ioeger and Carson here and went over to Westside. You see, they'd called Gordon Black, the captain of the Westside basketball team, and challenged him to a game of one-on-one or two-on-two, and they called him because Ioeger and Prescott were convinced—correctly—that Black was one of these imposters. Frank and Joe meant to get him alone and beat some kind of confession out of him. Unfortunately, they'd underestimated their opponent.<br/>
<br/>
He takes a long draw from his cup.<br/>
<br/>
"You see, something or someone had tipped the imposters off that trouble was on its way over. Or maybe the imposters just saw in the visit by Frank and Joe a chance to replace some guys at the other high school. Whatever the story, the someones at your high school were ready for them, and they managed to catch Frank and Joe, and managed to slip two imposters in for them. They used everything but the kitchen sink in making up the new disguises, and they copied the boys inside and out, including their memories. That let them get a good, close look inside the boys—and they didn't like what they saw there. It gave them a very bad fright, I'm guessing. I can also guess why it frightened them, but that's an irrelevancy.<br/>
<br/>
"What did they next— Well, I could speculate on their motives, but it's best to stick to facts. The two imposters came back here and gave Ioeger and Prescott a cock and bull story. They made disguises of our two helpful idiots, and saddled them with cheap disguises of Frank and Joe, ones that didn't come with those frightening memories, because they didn't want Ioeger and Prescott knowing the real facts about the two boys. That's why Ioeger and Prescott look like Frank and Joe, but are doing such a piss-poor job imitating them." All eyes turn toward you and Carson. "Then the two imposters went back to their friends, the other imposters. <br/>
<br/>
"And at this point, disguises started coming <i>off.</i> By Monday night, Stonehenge and Flagpole here were back to being themselves, and I'm pretty certain your other friends—all suffering blank spots—were back to being themselves as well."<br/>
<br/>
"So the doppelgangers went back to being themselves?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say that, and I seriously doubt it," Bredon sniffs. "If the someones wanted so badly to be other people, they'd only give it up if they didn't like their old situation and couldn't find a new one.  But there's always a new situation when you can make these kinds of disguises, and they didn't have to look far to find an even better situation than the one they'd been in. So they set up a meeting on Monday between their faked up version of Flagpole and one Jonathan Straussler of Eastman High, and if I had to guess, I'd say that the someone who'd been pretending to be Flagpole is now pretending to be Jonathan Straussler, and I'd imagine that the someones who were pretending to be—" Again he consults his notebook. "Gordon Black, Seth Javits, Kendra Saunders, Kim Walsh, Dane Matthias, James Lamont and Yumi Saito, among others, are now pretending to be other people at Eastman High."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would they switch high schools?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I can think of two reasons. Or, at least, two reasons in the case of this Straussler fellow. He plays basketball for your cross-town rivals." Bredon turns to Gordon and Steve. "You know your rivals, or you should. Describe Jonathan Straussler."<br/>
<br/>
"Tall," says Patterson, and his lips compress and disappear. "Good player, fast, has a good eye." He pauses. "Has a cute girlfriend." He pauses again, and color creeps up his throat to his cheeks. "His dad's a billionaire or some fucking shit like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," says Bredon. "Who wouldn't want to be a tall, handsome, popular, athletic and excruciatingly rich eighteen-year-old? But as for them all leaving your high school, that has to do with the second reason. I told you they got a look inside Joe and Frank, and even a quick look would tell them how dangerous it was for them to keep playing those parts. <br/>
<br/>
"They would have realized, for instance, that <i>I</i> would be coming, eventually."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, that settles it,</i> you decide. <i>This guy is definitely </i>not<i> a friend of the Durrases.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"They knew I'd be showing up," Bredon continues. "And they knew they wouldn't want to face me. Three of you, at least, have some idea why," he adds dryly. "And the imposters of Frank and Joe would have had a much more informed sense of dread about my arrival.<br/>
<br/>
"So they hid, and covered their trail. First, they moved away from where they had been working. Maybe they're at the other high school, maybe they're at the college, maybe they're at both or they've dispersed to many other locations. I suspect one of them, at least, is in this neighborhood, watching this house. But they also left behind a pair of red herrings." He turns to you and Carson. "They knew I'd come looking for the boys, and they planned on me finding you two. A couple of obvious fakes I could stomp flat. And once you were flat little bloody places on the sidewalk, there'd be no further trail for me to follow. And even if I got a story out of you first, it would lead me to the one high school where they no longer were." He empties his flask into his cup. "They'd have pulled off the perfect vanishing act, getting rid of the only two witnesses to what they'd done, whom they would have also nicely framed for their own misdeeds." He raises his cup in a toast. "I'd call these guys clever, but with the technique they're working you don't have to be <i>very</i> clever to pull of a scheme that <i>looks</i> it." He drains his cup.<br/>
<br/>
A very long silence follows. It's finally broken by Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what happened to me last week, but everything I've heard here sounds like bullshit." He stands up. "You mind if I go?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've no objections," Bredon says without looking up at him. "If you don't mind walking."<br/>
<br/>
"You coming, Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
Black gets up much more slowly, looking darkly at you and Carson. Then he and his friend leave. The door slams hollowly behind them.<br/>
<br/>
"Lucky fellows," Bredon says softly. "They get to walk away and pretend none of this ever happened."<br/>
<br/>
"What about us?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"What about you? You think you're important enough the question has an answer?"<br/>
<br/>
You swallow hard.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm here to find Joe and Frank," says Bredon. "Also that book you were so good as to let loose in your school. Putting you two back to normal?" He shrugs. "When I get what I want, I'll ask myself how kindly disposed I am to you. <i>Then</i> I'll think about helping you out."<br/>
<br/>
Carson slouches, but you lean forward hopefully. "Do you want us to help?" It can't hurt to offer, if you want to stay on his good side.<br/>
<br/>
Bredon looks you up and down with only a little distaste. "Let's just say I'd prefer your co-operation."<br/>
<br/>
"What can we do?"<br/>
<br/>
"If I gave you the keys to that truck, would you get out of town and stay away until I called you back?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance at Carson. He just shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess we could do that," you say. "But isn't there anything else we could do?"<br/>
<br/>
Bredon stares at you. Then, horribly, he <i>smiles.</i> Widely, showing yellowed, misaligned teeth. "Would you like to act as <i>bait?</i>" he asks.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211122211212111111
author_id: seuzz
title: To Fish and Cut Bait
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Bait?" you squeak. "What do you mean by 'bait'?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think he means?" Carson sneers. He turns to Bredon. "We'll do it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Like fuck we will!</i> you want to shout at him. But you see the glint of determination in Carson's eye, and acquiesce.<br/>
<br/>
Bredon looks at him, and at you, and snorts softly. "At least one of you is half-smart," he says, and says no more about which one it is.<br/>
<br/>
"What do we do?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
Bredon regards him for a bit. "Nothing," he finally says. "I said they've probably got this house under observation, and they'll be dying to know what I've said to you and done to you. You just have to hang out here, and they'll find <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want us to bring them back here?"<br/>
<br/>
"They won't come. They're too smart for that." He scratches his cheek thoughtfully. "You missed a date last night, didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me too," you pipe up.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> didn't volunteer." Bredon turns back to Carson: "Call her, offer to take her someplace for brunch. Odds are she's one of <i>them,</i> so she won't hold a grudge about being stood up last night."<br/>
<br/>
Despite his earlier bravado, Carson now looks unhappy as he takes out his phone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Darcy Whitehead, it turns out, is extremely happy to get together with "Frank." While Carson gets cleaned up, Bredon busies himself in the garage for a bit, then drives off on an errand. He returns with a couple of bottles of hard (and very cheap) liquor, and half-drowns himself with half of one.<br/>
<br/>
Carson dresses up nice for his brunch date: faded blue jeans, a heavy button-down shirt over a clean white tee, and Frank's letterman jacket. Bredon stops him—like a mother examining her son before prom—and lightly picks at him with dexterous fingertips: straightening him here, tugging him there, pinching him into shape. "What do you want me to do?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Try to get laid. Off with you now, and don't worry. Nothing bad'll happen to you. Even if it does, someone else will pay for the funeral."<br/>
<br/>
Carson does a dramatic turn at gathering his courage, and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
"You're just sending him out there?" you ask when he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"No. But what else I'm doing is none of your business," Bredon says. Your phone rings in the other room. "You're not here," he continues. "Turn that thing off."<br/>
<br/>
"But—"<br/>
<br/>
"Turn it <i>off.</i> Do homework, surf the internet, play a game. But sit still and do <i>nothing.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"So what are <i>you</i> going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna take a nap."<br/>
<br/>
And so saying, he drops onto the sofa, puts his head back, and closes his eyes. But he's also prepared for trouble, for he takes out his knife and grips it tightly in his right hand.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't remember the last time you felt such a mix of boredom and anxiety. You keep thinking about Carson, naturally, and what might be happening to him. <i>Bait.</i> He's put himself into the jaws of the doppelgangers. He's been braver than you all through this adventure. Braver <i>and</i> smarter, though you're not sure how far this current play counts as "smart." Bredon has as much as said he doesn't care what happens to Carson or to you. What is his plan? You have a dreadful premonition it involves letting Carson get replaced by a duplicate, whom Bredon can then catch and torture for information.<br/>
<br/>
So these are the thoughts running through your head while you try to kill time. You've no concentration for homework and there's nothing on the internet. You sit and you pace and you try using the toilet and you root through the kitchen and when there's nothing else to do you risk waking up Bredon by turning the TV on. But even that can't hold your attention for more than ten minutes.<br/>
<br/>
You're back on the computer, playing some crazy-weird Tetris-like laptop game, when Bredon appears in the archway. "Over here," he barks. "Or stay there, I don't care," he says when you blink back. He strides over and thrusts that knife at you. "Hold this," he says. "Go on, take it." Feebly, you grasp at the hilt. "I need to see a man about buying a sombrero," he says. "And I want you to—"<br/>
<br/>
He stops dead, his eyes glittering. But he's not looking at you; he's looking at the laptop, at the geometric game that's slowly unfolding on screen. He turns to give you a very long and penetrating look, then resumes speaking without relaxing that intense stare. <br/>
<br/>
"Hold onto that knife," he tells you. "Then sit back, and relax, and think of the sky. Concentrate on the sky, and do your best to let your mind go blank. That last part shouldn't be too much of a problem," he sourly adds.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, why?"<br/>
<br/>
His expression turns slightly puckish. "For lack of a better phrase, for the out of body experience it'll give you." He puts his hand on your shoulder. "Do it, Prescott," he says. "I won't let you go far before I shake you out of it."<br/>
<br/>
Doubt and trepidation overwhelm you, but you do as he says. You settle back in the chair, and after blinking a few times, close your eyes. You take a deep breath and grip the knife more tightly. <i>Think of the sky?</i> You try to imagine it: a vast dome of blue, like an inverted bowl. It flashes briefly into your mind's eye and is gone as your concentration wavers. Bredon's fingers tighten on your shoulder, and you try again. <i>The sky. It's usually got clouds in it, right? Little pale thin ones. Maybe a con trail left by a passing jet.</i> The picture forms again, much more clearly and vividly this time. You can even see the tiny jetliner racing along, leaving that condensation trail—<br/>
<br/>
Your heart leaps as you feel yourself rushing through that sky. The vision bends alarmingly, and you're plunging toward a house. More than a house: a mansion. More than a mansion: a castle! And as it looms, the walls dissolve and you're floating above the ceiling of a cozy-looking living room. It's filled with people, teenagers like yourself, milling around. A lanky one is stretched on a long sofa, and as you concentrate on him—<br/>
<br/>
Everything shakes, and the vision shatters. You gulp down a breath, and look up at Bredon. "I saw Carson!" you exclaim. "And it was him! I mean, he wasn't wearing—"<br/>
<br/>
"I know. Good. I'm actually impressed."<br/>
<br/>
"What was happening?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a kind of remote reconnaissance, like watching through a drone. Don't ask how it's done. But here's what I want you to do." He closes the game on the laptop—but only after saving it first, you notice—then on a scrap of paper scribbles a phone number. "That's my cell. Go back into recon mode. Think of the sky, like I told you. Watch and listen. If anything really important happens—and you'll know it if you see it—call me at this number."<br/>
<br/>
"You're leaving?"<br/>
<br/>
"I saw what I needed, and now I have to buy that sombrero."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of sombrero?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. You just watch and call in if you see anything. If you need to break the recon, let go of the knife. Oh, and try not to drop it on your foot when you do." He pats your shoulder roughly, and is quickly gone.<br/>
<br/>
You blink and draw several deep breaths. This is freaky, very freaky, and you tremble a little at having this responsibility thrust onto you. <i>An out of body experience,</i> Bredon called it. Then "recon." Probably it's not quite either one, but whichever it is— Well, time enough to worry about that later, you suppose. You'll be more comfortable in the living room than at the dining room table, so you settle yourself onto the opposite end of the sofa from where Bredon had been sitting. You get comfortable, then grip the knife, close your eyes, and lean back. <i>Think of the sky.</i> You wonder if you'll be too nervous now to do it properly, but you've hardly let your head fall back when you are whisked away again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You can see the room more clearly now. It's not tiny, but it's small and warmly furnished with a low sofa and a low chair and a couple of beanbags. A hi-def, big-screen TV dominates one wall; opposite is an open space through which you can glimpse a small dining room and a kitchenette beyond. A staircase leads up to a landing and a closed door. Tall windows and a glass door look out onto a vast, rolling green lawn.<br/>
<br/>
And who's here? You recognize many of them, and it sickens you to know that they're doppelgangers.<br/>
<br/>
Carson, unconscious, is on the sofa, and though he's still wearing Frank's clothes he is no longer wearing the mask. Sitting beside him is Darcy Whitehead: pale of skin and dark of hair, wearing that flinty expression she often has. Jonathan Straussler is leaning against the wall with arms folded and a bemused smile on his face. The elfin-faced Ian Carpenter, captain of the basketball team, fidgets next to him. On the staircase are sitting Timothy Johnson, another basketball player, and his girlfriend, Juliana Seaton, with their arms loosely wrapped about each other. And you groan to see the beautiful, boobilicious Becky Torres squirming excitedly in a beanbag, like she has to pee.<br/>
<br/>
As you concentrate on each one, you drift toward them, and you find you can steer yourself around. You can even float down near the floor if you want, and bodies and furniture—though they look solid—have no substance to them. Or you've no substance to yourself. But there is no sound.<br/>
<br/>
So you drift about, wondering what Rick saw that got him so excited, and wondering where he's gone.</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111222111222112121111111
author_id: seuzz
title: I Spy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There's nothing to do but settle in to watch, which you do. As you watch, the silence slowly fills with a soft hum that resolves itself into low murmurs and then into distinct voices.<br/>
<br/>
"—try calling again," Timothy says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's only been ten minutes," Becky says. "I'm sure he's got his phone off."<br/>
<br/>
"I've never known Joe to turn his phone off."<br/>
<br/>
"He's not Joe," Becky retorts. "God, is he not. If you'd ever kissed the real one, you'd know the difference."<br/>
<br/>
"And if you ever had Joe in Jones's math class, you'd know the difference too," Ian laughs.<br/>
<br/>
A general hubbub of conversation breaks out, until the upstairs door opens and a new figure appears. Timothy and Juliana move aside as he comes down the stairs, to stand over Carson. <br/>
<br/>
It's Joe Durras—at least in form. <br/>
<br/>
He puts his palm on Carson's forehead, then withdraws.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the deal, boss man?" Jonathan asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Brandt's going back in his place," Joe says. "Someone get him undressed."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought we were trying to keep our distance," Jonathan says as Ian and Darcy start pulling the clothes off Carson. "That guy, you said, he's—"<br/>
<br/>
"I know what I said, but it hasn't played out the way we want. Bredon's got it all figured out, dammit. He's even figured out a way to tell us from real people." A tremulous murmur runs through the room. "So Brandt's going in to get close. He'll bring us Prescott—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's not answering his phone," Becky says.<br/>
<br/>
"He's probably got it turned off, he's not going to trust anyone from school, which is why we'll have to use Ioeger to get to him." Joe puts his hands on his hips. "I'll take over for Prescott, then Brandt and I'll try steering Bredon away." His voice falls to a mutter. "I hate wasting supplies like this—"<br/>
<br/>
"Does Ioeger know what happened to the book?" Darcy asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, and Bredon doesn't either, unless—"<br/>
<br/>
The upstairs door opens and a voice rings out: "Would you hurry it up? I'm freezing up here!" It sounds very familiar, but you can't place it.<br/>
<br/>
"Just keep still!" Joe yells back. "I can't make it go any faster!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm cold!" The door slams.<br/>
<br/>
Joe turns to Jonathan. "What happened to number one dummy?"<br/>
<br/>
"He'll be here any minute. I got a call a minute ago that he's at the gate. The beast's on his way too."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. I wanna keep Frank and Joe buried as deep as possible."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the deal with them?" Juliana asks. "What's so important about—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind," says Joe. "It just is. Ah, here they are."<br/>
<br/>
Two shadowy figures appear at the glass door, and Jonathan opens it to admit them. One of them is Paul Zametti, a kid with a shaved head who plays in a band. He's got a friendly arm crooked around the neck of a scrawny kid with a thatch of scarecrow-like hair. You wince at how out of place Will Prescott looks in the company of these good-looking and athletic types. He grins nervously.<br/>
<br/>
"And here's the beast," says Joe, turning at a noise. From the opposite side of the room shambles a man who looks to be in his late fifties or early sixties. He's bald and paunchy, with a bristling moustache and a deep scowl. "Tell him to fall into a beanbag, Jon."<br/>
<br/>
"Take a beanbag, Dad," Jonathan grins, and with a barely audible oath the old man shuffles over and drops angrily to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott, you sit next to him," Joe says, and your double obeys. Your heart pounds, and your hand tightens around Bredon's knife. You questioned him hard last night, but look at the good it did: The guy who looks like you has been in league with the doppelgangers all along.<br/>
<br/>
Joe kneels between them, and puts his hand over the old man's brow. He says some words—<br/>
<br/>
A thrill runs through your head, from one ear to the next. The words—a series of nonsense syllables, repeated three times—ring clearly there, and you're seized by an urge to repeat them yourself.<br/>
<br/>
As Joe speaks, he pulls at the old man's face. The man seems to shiver and shimmer very briefly—or maybe it's just your imagination—and then he sinks back, eyes closed and mouth agape. But Joe is now holding a bluish object: a mask.<br/>
<br/>
He turns and does the same operation—hand on brow, murmured words—to Prescott. Again, a mask comes away as your replacement's limbs jerk and flop, and his head falls back. <br/>
<br/>
But there's been a further change, and you drift around to get a closer look.<br/>
<br/>
You drop the knife in surprise. The vision vanishes, and you find yourself back in the living room. Your heart is beating wildly.<br/>
<br/>
When the mask of Will Prescott came away, it revealed another Joe Durras.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You retrieve the knife and close your eyes again. <i>Think of the—</i> And you're back where you were before.<br/>
<br/>
Joe puts a mask onto the old man; again there is a momentary confusion of form; now Will Prescott, in the old man's clothes, is sitting in the bean bag. He blinks and looks around, and flinches from his clothes. <br/>
<br/>
Joe turns to his twin, who is unconscious, and puts a mask onto him. Another confusion of form, and now it's the old man there, with eyes open. The shirt rolls up, exposing a paunch, and the jeans swell up, looking like they want to burst.<br/>
<br/>
You lost the sound when you dropped the knife, but you can see people laughing. The old man and your twin, blushing furiously, struggle to their feet and clumsily make their way into the kitchenette. They're already peeling off their clothes as they go. <br/>
<br/>
Ian makes a gesture, and Joe turns back to Carson: a silver strip has appeared on your friend's forehead. Joe picks it up and gestures to Timothy, who quickly ducks into the kitchenette and returns with a mask and a small pot and brush. Joe takes these and sits on the arm of the sofa; he paints one side of the silver strip with material from the pot, then presses it into the inner surface of the mask and blows into it.<br/>
<br/>
 With the mask and Frank's clothes, Joe then goes upstairs with Timothy following. Jonathan goes outside. Those who remain below move about restlessly, talking.<br/>
<br/>
Prescott and the old man come back out; they've exchanged clothes, but are still looking shy and subdued. Paul waves Prescott over and escorts him out. The old man also leaves. Timothy comes back downstairs, and then Jonathan comes back in with some rope; to your horror, he begins to bind Carson up. Naturally, your friend wakes and struggles, but Timothy sits on him and slaps a hand over his mouth while Jonathan finishes up. Juliana gets a napkin from the dining room, and they gag him. Jonathan and Ian lift him and carry upstairs. Timothy remains downstairs, stroking Juliana's shoulders lovingly.<br/>
<br/>
Sound has been slowly returning, and Juliana's "—bury him someplace" are the first words you can clearly make out.<br/>
<br/>
"Not literally!" Becky exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"No, not literally. Well, I don't know." Juliana looks around uneasily. "The less you know, the better, with some of this." She rubs her arm. "But I bet they just do like they did with Frank and Joe. You know, use one of those masks that gives them amnesia." She trails off.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you expect it to be like this?" Becky asks after a long pause.<br/>
<br/>
"We all knew there'd be complications," Darcy says. "I mean, you didn't expect it would be all tidy."<br/>
<br/>
"I think it's going better than it ought to," Juliana says in a loud voice. "It could be a lot worse for the poor schlimazels, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," says Darcy. "And it's only for a year."<br/>
<br/>
"And it was less than that for the ones at Westside," observes Timothy.<br/>
<br/>
"I know," says Juliana, and her face falls a little. She hugs herself. "I was having so much fun as Kendra." Timothy laughs, and bends over to kiss her deeply.<br/>
<br/>
The upstairs door opens, and down come Ian and Jonathan. "Is he going to be okay," Becky asks them.<br/>
<br/>
"Who, Ioeger? He'll be fine," says Jonathan. "It's just until we can get him fitted up. Isn't that right, boss man?" he calls up the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
Someone new appears on the upstairs landing, a scruffy guy in torn clothes. He struts arrogantly down the stairs. "That's right," says Adam Karter, and jams a little on an air guitar. He throws himself into a beanbag and looks up from under hooded lids. "Becky," he says in a singsong. "I heard you been missing Joe, the real Joe. You loved <i>me</i> before <i>that</i> fucker ever—"<br/>
<br/>
She giggles. "Why can't you put Joe's face back on?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos ol' Dumbass has to stay outta sight until— Come on, Beckster." He pats his thigh. "I've missed you so much."<br/>
<br/>
So she gets into the beanbag with him, and they snuggle close and nibble at each other. Juliana turns her back on them, and Darcy looks very prim.<br/>
<br/>
But there's one more to appear, and he comes a few minutes later: Frank Durras, the Frank Durras who left the house a few hours ago on a mission for Rick Bredon. "Yo, Ioeger," Karter chortles. "How you like your sexy new body?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's embarrassing," he says, and scratches at himself. "Come on, Darcy," he says. "We should get something to eat before I go back. It'll help the story look and sound better if I can give 'em real details."<br/>
<br/>
A violent shiver runs through you, and again you lose the vision. But this time, you don't re-establish it. <br/>
<br/>
Pretty obviously, this is the kind of "important thing" Bredon wanted you to call him about. And yet you hesitate.<br/>
<br/>
After what you've seen, you feel sure you can get a mask off a person—and you're pretty sure you know where the real Frank Durras is.</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221112221121211111112
author_id: seuzz
title: Two Masks Come Off--But One Stays On
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>What did Carson say, after you and he had visited that professor? Something about "keeping a balance" between all the people who are after that book? You have a feeling you'd be a little safer if Joe and Frank were back in circulation, to balance against Bredon. You hide that knife in Joe's backpack—which you swing onto your shoulders—and call a cab.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yes?" Carson's mother, a pleasant-looking but rather worn woman, looks at you through the screen door without opening it.<br/>
<br/>
"Mrs. Ioeger? I'm Will— Will Durras. I'm a friend of Carson's. Is he home?"<br/>
<br/>
Your polite manner (along with Joe's winning smile) seems to reassure her, and with a welcoming "Of course, come right in," she opens the door for you. You step into a small but neatly kept house. "Carson, sweetheart," she calls, and you suppress a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
Carson Ioeger—tall, thin, with an expression that combines mischief and suspicion—appears. "Yo," you say. "Got a minute to talk?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure," he says uncertainly, and gives his mother a quizzical glance.<br/>
<br/>
"Outside?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Christ, this ... person, or whatever ... is acting just like Ioeger.</i> On a sudden inspiration, you take a chance. "The, uh, boss man wants to talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
The color drains from his face. "Okay, I'll put on my shoes." He goes back into the other room.<br/>
<br/>
"Boss man?" Mrs. Ioeger's laugh has a little anxiety in it. "What's this 'boss man'?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's just a nickname," you tell her. "Bo— Uh, Bo Smanuel," you stammer. "Sounds like 'Boss Man,' and he's kind of pushy, so we call him 'boss man'." <br/>
<br/>
"Smanuel? What kind of name is that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um ... African American."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." Now she looks embarrassed, even mortified. <br/>
<br/>
To your relief, the fake Carson doesn't take long to return, and you grip him by the elbow as you lead him to the cab. "What's the boss man want?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll find out when we get there."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're very glad that the <i>other</i> fake Carson has gone to lunch, for there are no cars in front of the Durrases' when you get back. The fake Carson with you is very puzzled as you lead him in, and resists so that you have to drag him over the threshold. "Let's do it in the bedroom," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Do what?" he asks in alarm, and slaps you away.<br/>
<br/>
"Wait for the boss man."<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, whoever you are, I'm starting to think that—"<br/>
<br/>
You leap on him, kicking his feet from under him and pushing to the ground. You're able to pin him before he can react—<br/>
<br/>
And now comes the great gamble. You grasp him by the forehead and mutter those words that are still ringing so clearly in your head.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing happens, except that Carson yells at you.<br/>
<br/>
You try it again, shifting the position of your hand a little. Again, nothing as you say the words.<br/>
<br/>
Carson is beating at you now, but he's got little strength in his skinny arms, and Joe Durras is solidly built. Will the third time be the charm?<br/>
<br/>
No. Nor are the fourth and fifth times. Despair turns to frustration, and the sixth time you're not content to hold his face between your fingertips. Now you yank angrily at him while shouting those words.<br/>
<br/>
A vibration, like a subtle tearing, goes through your fingertips. You straighten up in shock at finding yourself holding a thin but heavy mask made of some bluish ceramic material. You blink and look down. Frank Durras, his eyes shut and his jaw slack, lays beneath you. You take a deep breath and slap him. And slap him again. And slap him again.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes snap open, blazing. And what happens next is—<br/>
<br/>
Well, if it weren't for all the weird stuff that's already happened to you recently, you'd think you were hallucinating.<br/>
<br/>
Something like an invisible iron clamp closes around your torso and hurls you backward, pinning you to the wall; your feet kick at the air. "Frank!" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"For fuck's sake, Joe!" he exclaims as he sits up. He blinks and looks around. "How the fuck did we get back—?" His eyes narrow and blaze. "Okay, you better have a fucking good explanation for—"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You do have a good explanation, but at the moment you're too terrified to give it. If you tell Frank that you're not Joe— That you're not Joe, while he somehow has you pinned against the wall in mid-air without using his hands— And if he can pin you against the wall in mid-air without using his hands, maybe he can rip the head clean off your shoulders— And the way his eyes are blazing, he might be in the mood rip your head from your shoulders if he finds out you're a fake—<br/>
<br/>
So maybe it's better to pretend to be Joe and show you're a friend than to explain who you are and why you look like Joe. "What's the last thing you remember?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"We were up in that loft at Westside, and half the athletic squad was crowding us. I think you got knocked down, and then I saw Patterson running at me."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that was a week ago. I don't know what they did with us, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"A week?!"<br/>
<br/>
"Can you put me down? Oof!" You get to your feet. "They put these masks on us, it did something like give us amnesia. I took a chance on finding you out at Ioeger's house—"<br/>
<br/>
"What have <i>you</i> been doing all this time?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was in the same condition. It's kind of confusing, but I got out of it, and took a chance and found you. Also, don't ask, it's a long story, but one of the doppelgangers will be here in, like, less than an hour, I think. And Frank—" You swallow hard. "He's got your face."<br/>
<br/>
Frank's eyes pop. From the kitchen comes the sound of shattering glass.<br/>
<br/>
"Also, Rick Bredon's in town."<br/>
<br/>
Frank's mouth falls open, and his color turns very chalky. "Oh, shit," he groans. He clutches his temples. "Oh, <i>fuck!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Somehow, through a combination of bluff and fast talking, you get Frank to hide in the bedroom until his twin can show up. "Just come out and grab him," you tell him. "Like you did with me. I'll get the mask off him."<br/>
<br/>
"Why can't I get it off him?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know how."<br/>
<br/>
"Show me."<br/>
<br/>
So you're forced to oblige. Luckily, he doesn't think to test the technique on you. He waits in the back, and you settle at the computer.<br/>
<br/>
Twenty minutes pass. Then comes a rumble in the driveway, and a minute after that a rattle at the door. Another guy who looks like Frank comes in. "Hey man, where's Bredon?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Running an errand. What happened with Darcy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothin'. Had lunch at The Blue. I was shitting bricks the whole time, thinking someone was going to come out and grab me. But come on, we should make hay while that creep's gone. Let's go see that prof again, and—"<br/>
<br/>
He looks to the side, and does a double take. That's all he has time for before he's jerked—as though rigged with invisible wires—into the air and flung out of sight into the adjoining living room. Then Frank stalks through, his face burning, to also disappear into the living room. "Oh, fuck! Will!" someone with Frank's voice screams. "Get him—! Get—! Don't!"<br/>
<br/>
His cries abruptly cut out. There's a soft thud. Your heart rises into your throat, and your arms and legs go numb. <br/>
<br/>
Frank got the mask off him. That's what it sounds like. He got the mask off him. You only have to get up and walk into living room, and you'll see who one of the doppelgangers really is.<br/>
<br/>
Before you can get to your feet, though, Frank appears. "Get me some rope out of the garage."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh." You stagger to your feet, and have to hunt for a few minutes before you find some thin but strong cord. Frank meets you in the kitchen. "Go get me some lunch," he says, and presses the truck keys to you. "I'm starving." He takes the rope and precedes you into the living room, where he kneels next to a figure who's lying face down. You can't see who it is—only the clothes Carson was wearing—and when Frank turns to give you a hard glare, you scurry out the door without getting any closer.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's waiting for you out front when you drive back up with burgers. You get a cold feeling when you see him, for he's changed into the clothes that the other Frank had been wearing, including that letterman jacket. He swings into the cab and shoves a hand into the bag for a clutch of fries. "Okay, let's head out to Straussler's."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's where you said the rest of the gang was hanging out," he says around his food. "You were a little unclear on how you knew that, but I figure—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay. You wanna take care of 'em all in one fast thing? Who are they? I didn't get a look at that guy in there."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Someone from Westside." He spends the rest of the drive eating, speaking only to give you directions to your destination.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You stop in front of a gate in a high wall. "So, you wait out here and keep watch," Frank tells you. "Don't interfere, just make a note of whoever comes and goes. Call me if it looks hinky."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing."<br/>
<br/>
Frank's lips twitch. "You're so easy to work with, Joe. I don't think I tell you that often enough." With that gnomic and slightly unsettling remark, he hops from the cab and rings a bell by the gate. After a few seconds, it opens, and he slips inside.<br/>
<br/>
You wait, nervously, but not for long, maybe five minutes, before a little convertible drives out. It pauses. Behind the wheel is that old man you saw earlier during your recon. He frowns at you.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211122211212111111121
author_id: seuzz
title: Strip Tease
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The old man's eyes narrow as you hop from the cab. "You waiting for someone," he growls.<br/>
<br/>
It's going to be awkward, but you have to try anyway. You lean in to grab him behind the neck with one hand while grappling at his face with the other.<br/>
<br/>
However awkward it is for you to seize him, it's more awkward for him to resist.  He flails and curses at you, and your fingers slip a little as you grasp his brow. But after a few seconds you feel that same subtle "tearing" sensation, and you straighten up over an unconscious Joe Durras. Rudely, you shove him into the passenger side of the convertible and get behind the wheel yourself. You drive along the country road until you're out of sight of the house, then you pull behind a thin screen of trees. Bad enough that you looked like Joe when Frank regained consciousness; it would be a lot harder to explain to Joe himself the resemblance. <br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes, chant that magical phrase, and pull at your own face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You feel yourself being manhandled when you wake. You're face down in the grass, and your pants are being pulled off your legs. You flip over, and Joe grins brightly at you. "Aren't you glad it's unseasonably warm today?" he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
He's already got your shirt and socks off you, so now you're down to boxers. "What are you doing?" you gasp, as though it's not obvious.<br/>
<br/>
"Getting my things back. Now, if you don't wanna try running back home with all your shortcomings hanging out, you'll tell me what's going on."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus!" <i>Where to start?</i> "It's a really long story, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"Longer than 'Ben Hur'? Awesome. We'll get popcorn and you can tell me. But first, where's Frank?"<br/>
<br/>
"At the Straussler's. It's just around the corner—"<br/>
<br/>
"I know where we are, I've been out here before. But why?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's where the doppelgangers are. They moved from Westside into Eastman—"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, and grabbed themselves Johann Moneybags and Pater. I see. You managed to stay alive, though." His smile sharpens. "How'd you do that, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"By being stupid and naïve?"<br/>
<br/>
"Good man, always play to your strengths. I still don't get how I got here, but—"<br/>
<br/>
A phone rings. Joe pulls his cell from the pile of clothes he took off you. "Yo." He listens intently. "Uh huh." He paws through the clothes again, and pulls out a mask. He peers closely at it, and frowns briefly; then he breaks into a grin. "Whatever you say, Frank," he says in a subdued tone entirely at odds with the mischievous glee of his expression. "Wait, hang on! The gate's opening! There's a little sports car! It's him! I—! Awwww!" Joe doubles up with suppressed laughter. "I fucked up, Frank," he moans. "That old guy got away. You want me to chase him?" He falls onto the ground and covers his mouth. "Alright, I'll hide the truck and see you in a few minutes." He drops the phone and winks at you. "Never mind, Prescott, I just figured out what I need to know. Get those shorts off, and we'll finish swapping out. Stars, why did it have to be you and not Becky Torres in my underwear?" Another ring tone sounds, and now he plucks a phone from a jacket pocket, but this one he chucks into the bushes. "Well, come on!" He starts to pull off the ill-fitting suit he's wearing.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The suit doesn't fit you any better either, and you feel terribly exposed in it and the convertible, even though it's still hidden behind that screen of trees. Joe has left you with strict orders not to move. "Your luck's held out so far," he told you. "But that just means you're saving up snake eyes for when you don't want 'em." Glumly, you think he might have a point.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, this is a fine fix,</i> you think. Somehow Joe's gone from knowing a lot less about what's going on to knowing more. And you can't help wondering if you've done the right thing by letting him and Frank loose. Now, for instance, you're worried about what Bredon will do to you when he finds out what you've done. And are Frank and Joe even okay inside the Strausslers'? There were a lot of doppelgangers there when you had it under recon, and Frank and Joe went into this house with even less info than when they went to Westside last week, and look how <i>that</i> turned out for them. <br/>
<br/>
But above all there is this: So far no one you've tangled with has seemed your idea of a "good guy," and you're becoming ever more convinced that Carson was right. You and he need to lay hands on that magic book for yourselves. It may be the only way of staying safe.<br/>
<br/>
Prey to these dark thoughts, you crouch down in the seat and drum your fingers nervously on the wheel. Slowly, an hour crawls by before—<br/>
<br/>
You duck at the sound of a motor, but raise your head when it purrs to a stop nearby. "Hey, Prescott," calls Joe from behind the wheel of the sweetest Porsche sports coupe you've ever seen. "Get in."<br/>
<br/>
You're still nervous as you crawl into the passenger seat next to him; the leather seats squeal and groan deliciously under you. Joe sets the coupe in motion, and the engine murmurs politely as he pushes it up to fifty in the space of a few seconds. "We're all wrapped up at the Strausslers'," he says before you can ask. "Now we need to start rounding up the others. I thought you'd like to go along, seeing as how you're having so much fun." He grins brightly at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Wrapped up? What happened back there?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean with Frank, or when I walked in? Well, they were both a hoot."<br/>
<br/>
"Could you start at the beginning?" You're conscious of the weird role reversal, with your having to ask <i>Joe</i> what's going on.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, first I was born, which goes without saying," Joe laughs. "But to fast forward eighteen years and to temporarily cut to the adventures of a co-protagonist." From his pocket his tweaks a cigarette and slips it into the corner his mouth; his cheeks pucker, and the tip glows red without benefit of match or lighter. For a moment you think you're going to faint. <br/>
<br/>
"So you got that mask off of Frank, which was brave and clever of you, and then you didn't tell him who you really were, which was brave and clever and butt-fuck stupid. Lucky for you, Frank has cement where his brains should be, and by the time he figured out that you weren't me, you'd shown yourself a friend to him."<br/>
<br/>
"He—? When did he realize I wasn't—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, round about the first time you didn't backtalk him. But as I was saying, you helped catch that imposter at our place, and that turned out to be the key. So when Frank came back here—"<br/>
<br/>
"How was that 'the key'?"<br/>
<br/>
"You really wanna know this stuff? Fine. So it turns out that those masks have two parts. Oh, Stars, I can't wait until we lay hands on that book!" He arches his back and pounds his thigh with a fist. "But they come in two parts. There's the mask itself, which copies faces and bodies, but there's also this attachable metal strip, and that's what copies brains and memories, and you can mix and match them. So when those clever so-and-sos at Straussler's caught your friend Ioeger, what they did was take Frank's mask off him, and then they copied Ioeger's brain into one of those strips, and stuck it in the mask. Basically, they slapped Frank's body and Ioeger's brain together and <i>bang!</i> Their new doppelganger could now look and act like your friend. Perfect way to get a spy close to you and to Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"About Rick—"<br/>
<br/>
"Later, precious, I'm on a spree, and you asked." He tosses the cigarette out the window. "So, Frank got that mask off that guy, and what did he do then? Fuck me, but Frank's got more guts than brains. He put it on. Funny, the way you can disguise yourself <i>as</i> yourself, but I won't argue. Now he looks like himself, but because of that metal bit, he's got Ioeger's memories <i>and</i> he's got the memories that the doppelganger had while <i>he</i> had that mask on. So Frank could come out here, and—" Joe takes a deep breath. "It was Frank pretending to be a doppelganger who was pretending to be Ioeger who had been pretending to be Frank." He throws his head back and howls. "But it worked. He got out here and was all, like, 'Hey guys, I couldn't find Prescott' and then he got each of 'em alone—there were four of them there—and he punched each of them out before going for the rest. And then <i>I</i> showed up, which was <i>sensational,</i> as it always is when I show up, and I was pretending to be <i>you</i> pretending to be me— Ha! And I started off being all 'Whatever you say, Frank,' and 'Anything you want, Frank' but then I started dialing it up, and he kept giving me these looks, until when I finally called him a 'muffin-headed dussel', at which point he threw me across the room and I came clean about how you and me switched places." He sighs happily. "It's a wasted day when I can't prank him at least once, and I owe you a blowjob for letting me get him good."<br/>
<br/>
This leaves you in a daze, but you don't ask for clarification. "So what are we doing now?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're splitting up and going undercover to round up the rest of the gang. I won the toss, so I'm going as Straussler. But you've got a choice." From the back he pulls out two masks.<br/>
<br/>
You blink to see two names floating on their inner surfaces: They are masks of Kyle Lakewood and Monique Travers.</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111222111222112121111111212
author_id: seuzz
title: The Mind of Monique
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stare down at the masks. "You mean, we're going to—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do to them what they tried doing to you? Oh yeah!" Joe smiles so wide you can see his back teeth. "It's only for a day, two at the most, so we can round them up. But it'll be fun. Now, you have be careful who you pick," he continues, turning more serious. "Kyle's a big, strong guy, and if you pick him, you and I'll probably split up so we can get through our list faster. If you pick Monique, we'll stick together, and you can help me lure the bad guys out into the open."<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to play Jonathan Straussler? Isn't Monique his girlfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Joe drawls. "And we'll have to be in character. Well, enough in character. But that's part of the fun."<br/>
<br/>
That gives you a turn. And then you remember: "But I'm not dressed for playing a girl."<br/>
<br/>
"We got her clothes too, and some of Kyle's, if that's your choice."<br/>
<br/>
And with that you now really get what he's saying: They got the clothes and masks off the doppelgangers, and you'll be stepping in for one of them to trap the others. "Who were they?" you ask faintly. "Who was it under the masks?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me. They were from <i>your</i> school." And before you can ask again, a cell phone rings. Joe answers it.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? We're halfway back to town now. Prescott's being an indecisive little cunt about it. Personally, I think he wants to be the girl but is scared to— Well, I dunno, I guess he could switch off. True, but there wouldn't be anything funny about Straussler coming around to see Jenny. Anyway, given the story we're telling them, it shouldn't matter. No, I like the way we divided up the list, I got most of the girls. Hey, why don't you save Hannah and Tina and Elizabeth for last, try to lay 'em a couple of times before— Of course you could do it, Carpenter's only about five fucking times better looking than you, so—" He roars with laughter, and hangs up. "Oh, Frank is so funny. And by that I mean he is so much fucking fun to laugh at. Now, which is it gonna be, Prescott? The pretty one or the hunky one?"<br/>
<br/>
Since you're not sure what's going on, you think you should stick with Joe, and choose Monique. "Recline the seat," Joe tells you. "That way you don't fall face forward into the dash. Ready? Okay, just lower Monique's mask onto your face. Turn it the right way, dum-dum."<br/>
<br/>
The blue of the mask envelops your vision. Again, you have the sensation of something heavy resting on your face, and sinking into you, and filling you with a golden, drowsy warmth ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh my God!" You quickly turn your head, burying it in Sara Alvarez's shoulder. <i>He's so beautiful you'll go blind if you stare at him!</i> You peek up. He's still there, way down on the gym floor, at the far end of the varsity squad. Of course, he's not looking at you. How could he, since he's down there and you're way up here in the bleachers, surrounded by hundreds of other eighth graders from Colfax Middle School? But he's facing in your direction, and smiling, and maybe as his eyes rake the crowd they might chance to light on you—<br/>
<br/>
You gasp and bury your face again.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your deal, Monique?"<br/>
<br/>
"Him," you say, covering your terrified, joyful grin your hands. "Down there, way over on the left."<br/>
<br/>
"Who? That blonde guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Number 17."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with him?"<br/>
<br/>
You giggle. "Nothing."<br/>
<br/>
The crowd is cheering and hooting and stomping, with everyone getting into the Eastman High spirit, though it'll be five months—not until August—before they (and you) are officially Eastman students. The administration has brought out the drama and chess clubs (yawn) and the baseball and wrestling teams (mmm), and the football squad (wow!) and now the basketball team, which won the state championship two years ago and might make it this coming year too.<br/>
<br/>
There are some really good-looking guys down there—being short, you've always liked the tall ones—but that one on the end, number 17—<br/>
<br/>
You moan a little.<br/>
<br/>
He has a longish face under a careless but beautiful mop of hair so shiny blonde it's almost white. Though the town is just coming out of the depths of winter, he still has a tan. His mouth is cherry red, and it's curved in a little half smile; and with his gently sloping eyes it gives him an air of dreaminess. The principal says something, and now he steps forward—like the other players have been doing—to raise his hand in a lazy wave. And when he shows his teeth behind that smile, you puddle.<br/>
<br/>
"Jonathan Straussler," says Sara into your ear.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"His name's Jonathan Straussler. He's going to be your boyfriend, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You lean back, scandalized. "He's a junior," you shriek. "I'm only a freshman!"<br/>
<br/>
"Not yet. And by the time you are, he'll be a senior." Sara grins at you. "But you've got a crush!"<br/>
<br/>
"No I don't! I've never seen him before! It's just that he's so—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Go talk to him when school starts. I dare you!" She shoves you playfully. You shove her back with an emotion more like anger.<br/>
<br/>
But an hour later, when you're roaming the Eastman halls alone, snooping out the classrooms where you'll have your classes next semester, a figure comes sharply around a corner, bumping into you. "Oh hey, sorry," says—<br/>
<br/>
You step back, jaw hanging open, and stare. It's <i>him.</i> And now that you're close you see that his eyes are a deep but creamy blue, and he's got little dimples at the corners of his mouth, and the most adorable little birthmark on his chin, and <i>Oh my God he's looking at you and as he looks at you his eyes sharpen and narrow and his smile gets a little wider and he puts his head to one side and says,</i> "Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, wait, it was you who said that.</i><br/>
<br/>
"You're in the freshman class, right?" he says again.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Jonathan." He puts out a slim hand. You swallow and give him yours. His hand is warm and soft, except for a few calluses which are totally masculine and sexy as they rub against your skin. His eyes crinkle merrily, and you realize you haven't been blinking. You couldn't blink to save your soul. "You checking out your classrooms already? Lemme see." You give him the schedule sheet, and stare at him as he studies it. You can't look away from his face. His eyes twinkle when he looks back at you. "I could show you around. Uh, what's your name?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. Monique."<br/>
<br/>
"Nice to meet you, Monique."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Jonathan looms around the corner, and you almost collide with him. He's got three Coke bottles in each hand, and he raises them out of the way. "Where are you going," he asks peevishly.<br/>
<br/>
"I called my mom to come pick me up."<br/>
<br/>
"I can take you home."<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay, you don't want to leave your party."<br/>
<br/>
"Bull, I'll just give these to Carpenter and grab my keys."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want you to— Why do you want to drive me home if you're mad at me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who said I'm mad at you?" His tone is brusque, his face flushed.<br/>
<br/>
You die a little more. "I'm sorry for whatever I did, I won't— I won't bother you anymore." You duck and rush past him. He calls, but you keep running.<br/>
<br/>
And you get totally lost inside his gigantic house. Tears are streaming down your cheeks when he finds you. "There you are. How the hell did you get—? What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing! Just let me go home!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I said I'd take you."<br/>
<br/>
"Thank you," you say quietly, staring at the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong? Monique?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head violently, for when you try to speak, a little sob comes out.<br/>
<br/>
Gently, he lays his fingertips on your shoulder. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry. Can I fix it for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not. Your. Fault," you say around the hiccups.<br/>
<br/>
He puts his arms loosely around you. You keep your arms at your side. "You know I love you," he says very quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you have to go home?"<br/>
<br/>
Your gut twists. <i>You must have been hearing things.</i> "You don't want me here. <i>They</i> don't want me here. They're all seniors, and I'm—"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course they— Everyone likes you, Monique. And what do you mean I don't want you here? I hung out with you all summer, and I wanna keep hanging out."<br/>
<br/>
"You're just—" Hiccup. "Saying that."<br/>
<br/>
He grasps the sides of your head and tilts it up. Through your tears, you see his cheeks are wet too. "I wouldn't say if it wasn't true." His Adam's apple bobbles. "I wanna go steady with you, Monique. I wanted to ask you all week, but it's hard to ask that."<br/>
<br/>
"You—? What?"<br/>
<br/>
He puts his nose by yours, and your tears mingle as your lips touch.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"There's my sugar pop!" Jonathan calls as you come into his private suite. He drops the game controller and puts out his hand. His smile crinkles, and his eyes are so gentle and dreamy and ardent as he gazes at you.<br/>
<br/>
But you're more ardent still. "Rrff!" You fall into his lap and playfully gnaw at his shirt. <br/>
<br/>
He laughs and pulls you close. "You are so cute! You're gonna make someone really happy, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to make <i>you</i> happy!" You bite at the side of his face.<br/>
<br/>
"And someone else." He turns you around and holds you close. "Here, I got something for you." You frown as he presses something big and blue to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh, fuck me!" you scream as Jonathan thrusts harder. "Yes! Oh, Christ, your cock is so—! I'm gonna—! I'm gonna—!"</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221112221121211111112121
author_id: seuzz
title: Who's That Girl?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Like a blanket of fog being pierced by sunlight, the haze slowly lifts from your mind and eyes. You blink and sit up on your elbows. <br/>
<br/>
You do a double-take at the seat next to you: It's also reclined, and a figure sprawls in it, face turned away from you. You sit up sharply and look around: Joe has parked by the side of the road. <br/>
<br/>
Hair falls over your face, and you flip it back. And as you tuck a strand behind your ear you gasp and whirl: <i>Someone is behind you! Now they're behind you this way! And they're still behind you!</i><br/>
<br/>
You whirl and whirl, convinced that someone—a ghost or a spirit—is creeping up on you. A deep tremble runs through you, and you retch slightly. A dizziness envelops you, and when it clears you are still trembling, for now you feel that presence inside you, wrapping itself about you, invading your mind and stealing over your will. Like a hand thrusting deeply into the crevices of your body, Monique Travers fills your hollow spaces, flexes, and blooms there.<br/>
<br/>
Your teeth chatter and you hug yourself. You are so cold. More than a little frightened, too. But you also know that it's not <i>you</i> who are frightened. It's the freshman girl who is scared. And you sense that you only have to relax—even for just a moment—and you'll fall into her fright, into her emotions, into her instincts, and into everything else she has that's clawing at the inside of your skull.<br/>
<br/>
But despite this invasion of your core, you still know yourself, and—though with no little trembling of your own will—you put her behind you. The first thing is to get out of the business suit you're drowning inside, and into the jeans and woolly socks and sweater that Monique was sensibly dressed in. <i>Where are they? Oh, in the back.</i> You pull them into the front seat and start peeling.<br/>
<br/>
You're naked, and trying to get the bra on, when you become aware that eyes have settled on you. You flinch from the figure in the next seat, who is watching you quietly and mirthfully. Your hand flies out to slap him. "Turn around, you <i>pervert!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright! I couldn't help it," Jonathan Straussler laughs. "I started watching and then—"<br/>
<br/>
"Just change your clothes!"<br/>
<br/>
"I did before we left." He sits up. "Need some help?" He puts his fingertips to your back—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jonathan touches your back, then slips his hand into yours; you take it shyly, tentatively, as you walk along the sidewalk in front of the school. A motor grinds behind you, and you turn. "Bye Monique, bye Jonathan!" Sara Alvarez calls and waves from the bus as it goes past. You wave—still holding Jonathan's hand—and grin back. Jonathan softly kisses the top of your head as you head round the cafeteria toward student parking. You nestle against his shoulder. Jonathan opens the door of his car and helps you in. "Yo, we still on for that camping trip this weekend?" he yells at Conor Nilsson, one of his teammates. "Awesome," he shouts when Conor gives him a thumb's up. He gets in the driver's side. "Are you really going camping?" you ask in a small voice. Jonathan adjusts the mirror. "Nah, just staying in character, I'll blow him off with an excuse tomorrow." "Good, 'cos I got plans to suck you off all weekend." You yank down his pants zipper. "Christ, Todd, it was all I could do to keep from going down on you at lunch in the cafeteria."</i><br/>
<br/>
You shake your head clear and brush Jonathan away. "Quit it! I know what you're thinking!"<br/>
<br/>
"No you don't, 'cos I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't lie! You're thinking about all the times we— I mean that Monique and Jonathan— You know, she was a virgin before he shoved that mask onto her face and his cock up her—!" You gag. <i>Who was in here before you? Whoever it was, they were sex-starved, and they did it without protection.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, Prescott, you're really getting into being Monique. How long have you been awake?"<br/>
<br/>
"Long enough! And what do you mean I'm <i>getting into being Monique</i>?" You hurl away the recalcitrant bra and pick up the sweater. You can't find the opening, and it gets all twisted up in your hands, and tears gush from your eyes. "Oh, God! I feel so <i>dirty!</i> It was all so—<i>hic!</i>—You were all, like—<i>hic!</i>—except at school, but then you were—!"<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan slaps you. You cry out and put a hand to your cheek.<br/>
<br/>
He looks very serious, even a little worried. "Snap out of it, Prescott. You're not this girl, you're only pretending to be her. Get a grip and remember who you are. You know who you are, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod, but hiccup again.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Didn't you ever want a pair of awesome hooters to fondle?" He grabs your hands, and you wince hard as he slaps them onto your naked breasts. "Remember, you're an eighteen-year-old pervert boy fondling the body of a fourteen-year-old girl from the inside. Hang on to that fact, and onto the fact that you want to have fun. What I mean is, stay yourself. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
You gulp, but nod. He's right.<br/>
<br/>
"Now, let me help you with your things." He picks up the bra, and expertly clasps it onto you. He helps with the other things while you talk. "When I said you were getting into it, I only meant you'd fallen pretty hard into her personality. To be honest, you're acting exactly the way I'd expect the real girl to act."<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't it supposed to work that way?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but shouldn't you have it under better control?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. This is new to me. But it's like—" You wipe the tears away. "It's like I can't tell where her personality stops and mine starts. Don't you have the same feeling?"<br/>
<br/>
"No I don't. Frankly, I'm glad I don't have to convince anyone right now that I'm Jonathan Straussler, because I couldn't even tell you his phone number."<br/>
<br/>
You tell it to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. That sounds kind of right, but I wouldn't swear to it. As for how we're supposed to act around each other, well, I know Jonathan and Monique were always lovey-dovey, because she's so virginal, so I guess I should just hold your hand—"<br/>
<br/>
"I can get the rest of it," you tell him, and get to work pulling on panties and jeans. "What are we supposed to be doing?"<br/>
<br/>
He watches you carefully until you're done dressing, then takes out a slip of paper and a cell phone. "Looking up fakes," he says. "We should get started. I was going to start with Jenny Taylor, 'cos we have Kyle's mask, but I think we'll go with Darcy Whitehead first." He frowns for a bit, and scrolls a thumb across the pad of his phone. "Fuck, I can't even think how Jonathan's got his—"<br/>
<br/>
"Let me try." You take it from him, and quickly find the call list and Darcy's number. <br/>
<br/>
Joe shakes his head, mutters something, and puts the phone to his ear. "Darcy," he exclaims. "Cool. This is Jonathan. We had some fun this morning, didn't we?" He laughs. "Listen, I got a message from the boss man. I need to come pick you up, and then we need to head over to—" He checks that paper again. "167 Ezra Drive. That's right. Oh, and to make it easier, call ahead, tell her to go out to Eastman and wait. Uh huh. Well, I'll tell you when we pick you up. Be there in a few." He hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't understand what's going on," you say as he starts up the car. "Who lives at 167 Ezra Drive?"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone named Rebecca, that's all I know," he says. "Frank found a list at Straussler's. It looks like they were using his place as their headquarters, and they had a cross-listing of addresses and names. The addresses, that's where the doppelgangers originally lived. So what we're going to do is take them back to their houses, rip the masks off them, and skedaddle."<br/>
<br/>
"What about the people they were pretending to be? Like, the real Darcy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Same thing. You know how you found me and Frank under some masks, but we had amnesia? They did the same thing with the kids they replaced. So, the Rebecca person is pretending to be Darcy, and she's probably got the real Darcy stuck under a mask of Rebecca like I was stuck under Jonathan's dad. They did something to those masks, it not only gives the wearer amnesia but it also makes them, like, a slave of the doppelganger. God-damned clever when you think about it. The way they had it set up, no one disappeared, the original people couldn't call for help, but the assholes still got a body swap."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. So, we're telling the doppelgangers to send their fakes, like the fake Rebecca, to the school. When we've got them all together, we'll rip the masks off them and then Darcy and the rest will be free. Meanwhile, we'll have ripped the masks off Rebecca and her friends."<br/>
<br/>
"But won't they be able to use the book to make more masks and do it all over again?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," Joe says. "That's the million-dollar question. They haven't talked about this in front of Monique? You don't remember anything about the book?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, then, here's where it gets interesting," he says, and looks very grave. "Because they lost that book while they were making the move from Westside to Eastman. It looks like someone walked away with it, and none of the doppelgangers knows who the thief is."</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211122211212111111121211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Face of a Doppelganger
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Joe can't really fill you in any more, because he doesn't know any more: the Westside doppelgangers kept the <i>Libra Personae</i>—the book that makes masks—in the Westside loft. But during their move to Eastman, it vanished. "One of them apparently stole it," he says, "and they don't know who. It's got them pissed off, and frightened, because it means one of them is double-crossing the others."<br/>
<br/>
"But can't they still make masks? I mean, if the book told them how—"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't work like that. It's an old book, you know, and there's a lot of lore floating around about it, if you know where to look. Anyway, the spells use sigils, and only the sigils inside the <i>Libra</i> actually work. You can't copy them out, you need the actual sigils in the book. So, no <i>Libra</i> means no more making masks. They didn't say anything about this to Monique, or the person playing her?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm sure they didn't. I think Monique was the last one they got." You rub your forehead. "It was Wednesday when Jonathan—" You shudder. "Do you have a full list of who's a fake?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. There's about two dozen of them, but we can take 'em. Since Monique's the newbie in the bunch, leave it to me to do the talking and the unmasking."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're the smallest, so you have to get in the back when Darcy Whitehead comes down the steps of her apartment building. You hadn't much to do with Darcy during the time you were playing Joe at Eastman, and Monique also had few dealings with her. She has a hard, intense expression under a brunette bob, and her jaw always seems clenched. She doesn't look happy now as she approaches the car.<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on?" she demands as she buckles herself in.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you on the phone, we have to go out to Ezra Drive."<br/>
<br/>
"Have you heard from Brandt? Does it have anything to do with those guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it has to do with book." Jonathan puts the car in gear and races out the parking lot, and curves hard into the street. Darcy cusses, but he ignores her. "Boss man wants a solid search of all premises. He wants to nail whoever took it."<br/>
<br/>
"Christ! He can't—!" She fumbles at her purse.<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan puts his hand on her arm. "Don't fight it. It looks bad. We go out there, you let me look around, and then no one can look at you funny. You sent Rebecca to the school like I told you, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Why did I have to do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"To insure privacy."<br/>
<br/>
Darcy continues to pepper him with questions you don't understand, and he parries them, either because he's bluffing or because they make sense to someone wearing Jonathan's mask but not Monique's. But you're at the Ezra Drive address within fifteen minutes. You don't recognize it as you pull up.<br/>
<br/>
You stay behind as Darcy leads Jonathan inside. The door has been closed only a few minutes when Jonathan comes back out. "Done and done!" he exclaims, and drops a mask into your lap. Darcy's name floats above its inner surface. <br/>
<br/>
"That was fast."<br/>
<br/>
"I can book it when I want to. I also tossed the house, in case she did have the <i>Libra</i> there, but she didn't. Gonna be a motherfucker—a fun motherfucker but a motherfucker—if we have to get inside Darcy's mask, or the others, to see if where it got hid."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Next on the list is Nikki Cave, one of the Eastman cheerleaders. You have to pick her up at the mall, and you find it hard to not stare as she comes out of Nirdlinger's. Nikki is a dusky-hued Iberian, with a mane of hair that's as thick and coarse as a horse-tail, and even though she plucks her eyebrows you have the impression that they meet in the middle. She is round and curvy and firm, but gives the impression of plumpness all over—the kind of plumpness a guy would like to suck long and gently at. And although you can't put your finger exactly on why it is, you have the impression that a plume of humidity is constantly vaporizing off her sexual parts. "Hello, Jonathan," she says in a low, thrumming alto. "Monique," she adds in a harder, more chipped tone.<br/>
<br/>
She is much more accepting than Darcy about the story Jonathan tells, and welcomes the chance to take him to her old address. She asks if he'll be dropping you off first, and you find yourself blurting out that you'll not only be coming along, you'll be coming inside with them. Nikki takes it in a very cool way, but you follow Monique's jealous lead.<br/>
<br/>
Nikki guides you to a duplex on the edge of a bad part of town, but her half is neatly painted and trimmed; the inside is equally well kept. You trail the other two inside, and you've just pushed the front door closed when Jonathan wraps his arms around your hostess. You hear a gasp and a gurgle, then he is gently lowering a form to the floor. He hands you a mask. You glance at the name inside it. It's Nikki's, of course.<br/>
<br/>
Then you slowly edge around Joe, so you can finally look onto the face of one the people who has been chasing you to the edge of panic and insanity for the last few weeks. Joe guffaws and nudges you in the ribcage. "Check it out, Prescott," he hoots. "They're more like you than you thought."<br/>
<br/>
You have to cock your head and twist around to get a good look, for the head is flopped to the side so that you can only see it in profile. But no matter how you try to orient yourself, the face just won't come out right. The hair—which is dark—is all wrong for a start, and so are the cheekbones. There's something gone bad with the skin as well. And as wrong as the details are, what's worse is the way they hang together. Or the way they <i>don't</i> hang together, for you've a loathsome sense that they've been mashed together higgledy-piggledy, maybe out of the pieces of other faces.<br/>
<br/>
Then, as you blink stupidly, it comes into focus.<br/>
<br/>
It's a man.<br/>
<br/>
That's why the face seemed so wrong: You were expecting a girl, so your brain wasn't prepared to recognize it when it turned out to be a guy under the mask of Nikki Cave. Not a bad-looking guy either, if you were to be honest. Sure, there are a few pockmarks on the cheeks, but he's nothing worse than a Hispanic male with regular features under dark, closely cut hair.<br/>
<br/>
And you're pretty sure you've never seen him before. That's what you tell Joe when he asks. "Oh well," he says. "Westside's a big school. There's lots of guys at Eastman I wouldn't recognize. Especially if I caught them in a dress." He snickers. "Wait for me in the car while I search this place."<br/>
<br/>
You're in a daze as you walk back to the coupe. It feels almost depressing, so anti-climactic, to finally see the face of one of the doppelgangers and to find that it's a stranger. You almost feel like you know them, for they've been harassing and frightening you for weeks now: plotting against you, surrounding you, tricking you and framing you, with such care and attention that it's almost flattering. So it's not <i>fair</i> that you don't know them. If you're going to be bullied, it ought to be by people like the Molester, like Kirkham and Chen and Evans, like Lynch and Black and Patterson and Javits. It ought to be <i>personal,</i> dammit!<br/>
<br/>
You don't tell Joe any of this when he asks, and sink into yourself while he calls another cheerleader—Leslie Keys. Moodily, you sit in the back and stay there when he follows her in to relieve her of her mask. "You wanna switch into Kyle," he asks afterward. "We could go find Jenny."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care," you mumble, and make no move to help when he does pick up Jenny—the gorgeous captain of the girls' soccer team—and takes her to a large house in a leafy subdivision.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not having much fun," he says when he returns with Jenny Taylor's mask. "You starting to have adrenaline withdrawal?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are <i>you</i> having fun?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not with you being like this."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll try to be more cheerful," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"That's my sugarpop. I'm starting to feel more in character," he adds. "I think that's one reason I'm not having fun. You're being moody in a very Monique way that Jonathan would recognize, and not like."<br/>
<br/>
You look up at him. His blue eyes are limpid and kindly, and you have the urge to straighten out the careless curls around his ears. You don't stop yourself when your hand slips into his. His smile widens just a fraction, and he leans over to kiss the top of your head. You wince, but don't pull away. "Okay, we kissed and made up," you murmur. "So don't do that anymore." He laughs quietly and turns the motor on.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What do you mean 'No'?" Jonathan asks. "This comes from the boss man himself. It's so there's no one else around when we meet there." He listens to the phone. "I don't understand the problem, Becky. Well, alright, if that's the way it's got to be. See you in a few." He hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Becky won't call her original and send her away. Says it's 'impossible'. I wonder what we'll find when we get out there."</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111222111222112121111111212111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Face of a Doppelganger, Part 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Becky doesn't say much on the drive out after she's been picked up. You wonder what she would say if she knew that <i>you</i> were the "Joe Durras" she was smooching with all last week, and that the guy driving the car is the Joe Durras she remembered smooching before that.<br/>
<br/>
She directs Jonathan to a tidy little bungalow a block away from a major shopping center. It's made of brick, and the front door is hidden behind a high wall with a door in it. A neat little garden—now trimmed back for the approaching winter—is just inside.<br/>
<br/>
Becky rings the doorbell. "Don't you have a key?" Jonathan asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but it's politer this way," she says as she opens the door.<br/>
<br/>
There's a tile foyer just inside, and a living room done up in earthy browns and mossy greens beyond that. The surfaces are covered with framed photographs showing a motley bunch of people of all ages: plainly, a family with a lot of siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. "Mother!" Becky calls. "Mother?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mother?</i> You and Jonathan mouth the interrogative at each other simultaneously.<br/>
<br/>
And from another room there enters a house occupant.<br/>
<br/>
She must be eighty if she's a day. Her skin is so covered with liver spots that it's almost brown, and deeply wrinkled and lined. Her hair, which should be white, is dyed a fiery red. She's in a house-coat, and she limps behind a walker. But her eyes are bright, and she smiles. "Oh, look who's here," she says to Becky, then looks at you and Jonathan. "And who's this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Some friends from school," Becky says in a clipped tone. "They want to talk to me here."<br/>
<br/>
"Privately," Jonathan says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I have a little parlor back there you can use," the old woman says in the tone of one desperate—maybe too desperate—to please. "You can just—" But Jonathan and Becky have already slipped past her.<br/>
<br/>
The old woman smiles kindly at you. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, dear."<br/>
<br/>
"Monique."<br/>
<br/>
"What a lovely name. And that's your brother?"<br/>
<br/>
"My boyfriend, actually." You blush.<br/>
<br/>
Color shows in her cheeks as he smiles. "That's so lovely. And so lucky, too. You are <i>all</i> so lucky, though I'm sure you don't realize just how lucky you are." Now her tone changes, becoming icy and metallic even as the smile remains unchanged. "Especially Becky. <i>My,</i> but she is the fortunate one."<br/>
<br/>
"Is she your granddaughter?"<br/>
<br/>
Before the woman can answer, Jonathan appears in the doorway behind, and frantically gestures to you. You murmur an excuse to your hostess and hurry over. He pulls you in and turns you around to face a small sofa.<br/>
<br/>
The old woman's twin—wrinkled skin and dyed hair and all—is lying there, with her eyes closed. She is wearing Becky Torres's jeans cutoff and halter top.<br/>
<br/>
You gasp hard, and Jonathan covers your mouth with his hand. "Suddenly I am having <i>no</i> fun at all," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that—? Oh my God, does that mean—?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's got to be the real Becky in the living room. Now we see why our cheerleader couldn't get her replacement out of the house. And I don't know how we're going to get the old lady into the car."<br/>
<br/>
"Is everything all right in there?" that old lady calls.<br/>
<br/>
"Could we just leave her here?" you ask. "I mean, take that mask off Becky and—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to leave them together." He chews his lip. "Becky's house is only a few blocks from here," he mutters. "Open up the car and hang on to this." He thrusts a mask at you. "You're gonna have to wait here, but you can wait outside. Anyhow, Granny Weatherwax won't be able to reach you if she wakes up before I get back."<br/>
<br/>
Nervously, you do as he directs. When Jonathan catches up to you at the car, he's got someone hoisted over his shoulders. He gently lays her into the passenger seat: It's Becky, though still dressed in old lady clothes. Jonathan closes the door and leaps around the driver's side. Inside of ten seconds, he's in the street and racing for Becky's house.<br/>
<br/>
It's only five minutes before he's back, looking a little grim as you hop into the car. "It'll be a mystery for her and her folks, but this whole thing is gonna be a mystery."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pulled up by her yard and pushed her out. Then I spun out as fast as I could."<br/>
<br/>
"But why was there an old person under her mask? There aren't any old people at Westside."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a quizzical glance whose meaning you don't understand, and takes out his phone. "Yo, how are you guys doing?" he asks when the other side picks up. "Nicely done, bro, I thought I'd be at least two ahead of you, given my wheels. But listen, we just got through with Becky Torres, and you'll never guess what we found under her face. An old woman, I'd estimate between seventy-five and ninety. Or forty, if she's lived a <i>really</i> exciting life. You guys seen anything like that? You're shitting me. No fucking way! No, this was the first one we found like that. We've been hitting the girls, and only found middle-aged women under masks of Darcy and Leslie and Jenny."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Middle-aged women?</i> you wonder to yourself. This is even crazier than that student you didn't recognize.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, and, you'll love this," Jonathan continues. "A twenty-something man under Nikki Cave's face. Yeah, talk about Super-Jorgensen. Though I shouldn't talk, since I'm sitting next to one like that now."<br/>
<br/>
You punch him in the arm; he hardly seems to notice.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, we're on our way to Dunholm's place, after I call him. Call me if anything weird, uh, weirder turns up."<br/>
<br/>
"What did Frank say?"<br/>
<br/>
"He says they've been running across nobody <i>but</i> old people. Four old guys and one old woman, Frank says they're all old enough to have been in the Korean War. No cross-dressers, though. The old dudes were inside Chris Smith, Brad McHenry, Sammy Orson and Cooper Black, the old lady was inside Elizabeth Pruit."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Chris Smith: He's a wrestler, but that's all you know. Brad McHenry plays football. Sammy Orson hangs around with "the Rumorati" girl squad. Cooper Black plays baseball but also has a brain. And Elizabeth Pruit is a swimmer.</i> You feel very cold, suddenly. "Do I have to go with you?" you ask after he's finished setting up a meeting with Geoff Dunholm.<br/>
<br/>
"Feeling sick? I'd prefer the moral support, but you don't have to go in with me."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
So you stay in the car when Geoff takes Jonathan into a stucco house. The latter looks grim when he comes out. "An old man this time," he says, and tosses the mask into the accumulating pile in the back.<br/>
<br/>
"Joe, do you really think what they were doing was that bad?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean old people stealing young lives? Are you thinking maybe that's <i>not</i> bad?"<br/>
<br/>
You start to say "I overheard them say something about it only being for a year", but then you remember you overheard them by using Bredon's "recon", and maybe you don't want to mention that to Joe, so you can only stammer out something lame: "I just mean, these old people, they're getting a chance for some fun again. Like, Becky—" You shudder to think of what you were actually kissing under Becky's face, and then feel guilty for shuddering. "You know, I was pretending to be you for a week, because those guys stuck me under a mask of you."<br/>
<br/>
"And how much of a meal did you make of it?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's just it. I really did take advantage of it, the way I never could when I was—" You take a deep breath, and try to put out of your mind your memory of catching fake-Will on a date with Lisa Yarborough at the river. "The way I never could when I was myself. I spent a lot of time with Becky. With that old woman who I thought was Becky. We were both pretending. I mean, she was one of them, and she knew— I mean, she <i>must</i> have known that I was a fake too. But we got to have fun neither of us could have had as ourselves."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm. Well, this isn't the place for a philosophical debate. Let's just say that every kiss that old lady stole is a kiss that Becky couldn't."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd have to say the same thing about me and you."<br/>
<br/>
"No. Because my kisses are so awesome you were only stealing counterfeits."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Another cross-dresser," Jonathan says as he gets back in the car. "And this one was in his mid-fifties. Had to leave him in a pair of fishnet stockings. Still, if you're going to do that kind of thing, you can do worse than cross-dress as Chris Yves." He hands you the mask, but you quickly toss it into the back seat.<br/>
<br/>
The sun is going down by now, and you're exhausted. True, you've not done any real work since hooking up with Joe, but the stress has been bad. You must show it, for without asking, he takes you back to Monique's house. "Take the night off," he says. "I'll finish up with Zametti and Karter, maybe pick you up later." Habit asserts itself, and you kiss.<br/>
<br/>
You watch his tail lights vanish, then turn toward the gate leading into your yard. But a shadow detaches itself from the corner, and you suck in a sharp breath as Adam Karter steps forward.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't bother pretending you're Helen," he says. "I know what's been going on tonight. Just tell me who you are. Really."</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221112221121211111112121112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Boss Man Speaks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Who are you?" Karter demands. "Which one are you? I know there's a couple of possibilities."<br/>
<br/>
Monique Travers is a small and weak fourteen-year-old girl; and though Adam Karter isn't a bulked-up jock, he's strong and wiry and a head taller than you. But at least he can't see your real face. "Joe Durras," you say, since he's the one you spent the afternoon with. "Like my new look?"<br/>
<br/>
"The dumber of the Dumbasses? Huh. Except you're not that dumb, Dumbass. I know that, even if Karter doesn't, because I've been in your head. But are you Dumbass, or are you so dumb you'll pretend to be Dumbass? Prove you're him." His chin tilts dangerously.<br/>
<br/>
"Accept it," you reply as steadily as you can, "or I'll prove it on your ass."<br/>
<br/>
His breath hisses. "Not good enough. But I won't press the point. I'm here to talk, not prove anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think I want to negotiate?" Your heart pounds.<br/>
<br/>
"No. But I spent a lot of time inside your head. I remember most of it because I took notes. It was <i>extremely</i> interesting."<br/>
<br/>
"That sounds like a threat."<br/>
<br/>
"It isn't, because like I said, I've been in your head, and I learned enough not to make threats, not to you." His voice softens. "When I said it was 'interesting', I meant just that. It really is interesting. Amazing, even."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you come here to tell me nice things about my life?"<br/>
<br/>
"I came here because—" He pauses, and looks over his shoulder as another shadow looms. It's Tina Branson, looking very frightened.<br/>
<br/>
Karter turns back to you. "It was a mistake," he says, "bringing in the others. Brandt and Diane and Becky. It should have just been me and—" His voice cracks, and he puts his arm in Tina's. "Me and mother. Or maybe just her. I shouldn't have been greedy."<br/>
<br/>
"Charles," says Tina, and begins to softly weep.<br/>
<br/>
"What did you want?" you ask, playing for time as your head spins.<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't it obvious? You got the masks off the others, so you saw. I wanted a few more years for her. Of health. Youth, if that could be a bonus. Even when the others got involved, I tried limiting it. They could be kids again, sure, but only for a year, only until they graduated. Then— Well— I don't know." A tremble passes across his shoulders. "To be honest, we'd probably have just moved everyone down, into the junior class as it moved up to the senior level. Kept on that way until age finally caught up under the masks. But for a little while, at least, they'd—and we'd—have something we hadn't had in a very long time."<br/>
<br/>
A silence falls. "But you couldn't stop there?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No, and God damn it that we couldn't. We shoulda been stingy, those of us at the start, but instead we <i>had</i> to share it. All of us did, with someone. I had to share it with my mother, and by that time I'd shared it with Brandt and the others. Then they had theirs that <i>they</i> wanted to share it with, and then those others had <i>theirs.</i> When you have something good, you <i>want</i> to share it with the ones you love. If you're not a jackass.<br/>
<br/>
"But to get back to my point, I guess I'll say I'm glad you came in and stopped it, before some of those other fellows out there got wind of what was going on. We'd made some bad pickups on our end. Ramos's kid brother, for instance, someone like him was bound to say something to the wrong person, and then we'd all get caught up in something bad. I gather you're just turning people loose, letting them catch up as best they can, readjust. They're all royally pissed off, Diane and the rest of them, but there's nothing they can do about it, but go back to normal. Some of the fellows <i>you</i> know about wouldn't've been so kind to us. So I'll thank you that far, since I can't thank you any farther, not sincerely."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you offering to surrender?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." He draws a deep breath. "No, I'm asking for a last show of mercy. You know where to find Karter and Tina Branson. I've done nothing to queer you there. You can let 'em loose, though I suspect Karter would have been happier where he was. He's only really happy when he's asleep. But just let me and mother go off like this. We'll go to another city, the other side of the country, lose ourselves, make a new life, under these faces, if you'll let us. Well, my mother will live under that one. Me, I don't need this one, unless it makes it easier to work certain kinds of jobs. Maybe that's what we should have done in the first place. But now I'm willing to settle for it, for anonymity, not for the life of someone else.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you say?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You're glad the choice isn't up to you, and truthfully you can tell him: "I have to talk to someone first."<br/>
<br/>
"That Dad of yours, you mean?" Karter says. "That's fair."<br/>
<br/>
"And unnecessary," a rough voice says behind you. You wheel. Rick Bredon has crept up behind, silent as a cat.<br/>
<br/>
You jump back as he strides past. Karter throws himself in front of Tina, protecting her. But Bredon easily tosses him away and seizes Tina by the elbow. She shrieks, but only briefly, before Bredon's hand covers her face. He pulls it away, and she slumps to the ground. All you can see of her is a tangle of white hair as she rolls into a ball. Bredon drops a mask to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
With a snarl Karter leaps at her assailant, but Bredon easily knocks him to the side, then kicks him a way that leaves him crumpled and choking on the grass. He seizes Karter by the hair and puts a hand to his face. It's there only a moment, and then Bredon pushes him back. He hands the mask to you.<br/>
<br/>
You take it numbly. You have the feeling that you ought to be terrified of Bredon, that you ought to run away. But the air turns very thick, and you feel buffeted as though by waves, as though you are floating in deep water. Your feet move under you, and you stumble forward, around Bredon, with eyes straining toward the figure lying on the ground. You draw up close until you can make out the features. The first you notice is the big, white moustache.<br/>
<br/>
It's Mr. Walberg.<br/>
<br/>
A hand grips your shoulder and pulls you back. "Come on, Prescott," says Bredon. "No one wants you puking your guts all over him, least of all <i>him.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"It's my social studies teacher," you say quietly. "I gave him the book to put in our class time capsule."<br/>
<br/>
"When you get to the end of these things, you usually find it's the mostly likely suspect behind it all," Bredon says dryly.<br/>
<br/>
Bright headlamps swing into view, and with a gentle purr, Jonathan Straussler's Porsche sweeps up. Your gut drops as Jonathan himself leaps out. Now you <i>do</i> want to run and hide.<br/>
<br/>
But Jonathan ignores you and Bredon—and Bredon only watches—as he runs over to stare down at Walberg with his hands on his hips. Then he swings around and leaps into Bredon's face. "This close, Rick," he yells, and pinches a thumb and forefinger at Bredon's nose. "Me and Frank were <i>this close</i> to wrapping it up without you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Nice face, kid," Bredon replies. "Where'd you get it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, he's just some rich fuck at the high school," Jonathan shrugs. "Eh, he does in a pinch."<br/>
<br/>
"Were you and the cadet even <i>looking</i> in the right high school?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Well, we got off on the wrong foot, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"But someone put you right. And what happened when you went looking in the right high school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, we had a setback—"<br/>
<br/>
"And who pulled you out of that setback?"<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan's lips disappear. "Local help," he says, not looking at you. "The underground."<br/>
<br/>
"And how did the underground even find you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, we were too busy trying to get it all fixed to rake over who did what to help whom!"<br/>
<br/>
"Face it, kid, you flunked this one as hard as you could."<br/>
<br/>
Even in the dark you can see the red rush into Jonathan's face. "You can't flunk us, Rick! This wasn't a test! We graduated already and this was our first— And I'll tell <i>Dad</i> if you—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you guys <i>friends?</i>" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just taught 'em everything they know," Bredon says. "And a lot more that they blissfully forgot." He raises a finger before Jonathan can explode, and turns to you. "Get your stuff out of his car and put it in mine. It's around the corner yonder. Get changed and I'll take you home. You've had a busy day, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Bredon is gruff and uncommunicative on the drive back after you've changed, and only reiterates that he belongs to the same company as Joe and Frank, and that he was their teacher and mentor for several years. "Tell you tomorrow" is his only answer to the rest of your questions. "If we see you. Which we probably won't."<br/>
<br/>
He makes a phone call, and a confused looking Will Prescott is waiting out front when you arrive. "Just go inside," Bredon tells you, and you pass the fake you as it gets in the car with him. Your dad is watching TV in the living room, and does a double-take as you pass him, for you're wearing different clothes. But he says nothing. Upstairs you sit and stare at a blank wall, from the other side of which comes the sound of your little brother grunting and moaning while listening to some kind of thrash metal on his ear buds.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at the wall and stare at the wall, and try to get used to being home, and to the idea that everything is normal again.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211122211212111111121211121
author_id: seuzz
title: Spoils of Victory
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>An indecisive hour passes, and you grow more and more restless. Finally, you can't take it anymore. <br/>
<br/>
It's not hard to find Joe's number: it's in the call list on your own cell, which the doppelganger left on your desk. "Will!" Joe exclaims when he answers. "Dude, what's up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just checking in. Bredon—"<br/>
<br/>
"Call him 'Rick'. He hates being called by his last name."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he said something about maybe getting together tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh?" Joe's tone turns guarded, and you hesitate.<br/>
<br/>
"So ... What time?" you finally ask.<br/>
<br/>
A sound like a cock crowing comes over the other end. "I knew you'd come through!" Joe exults. "A guy who'd cross Rick behind his back to rescue Frank while pretending to be me—! Rick said you'd funk it, but I knew you were just being shy! So, how about brunch? Ten-thirty, over here, then we'll head out for chocolate pastries and shit!"<br/>
<br/>
"I have to go to church in the morning."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Okay. Hey, what denomination? Catholic?"<br/>
<br/>
"Episcopalian."<br/>
<br/>
He chortles. "Dude, what's the point in <i>that?</i> You'd get more real religion at brunch with us. But whatever, I shouldn't mock your faith tradition." He snickers hard. "So make it two, over here, we can play touch football over at the park." He hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Rick Bredon's sedan is in front of their house, and so is Carson Ioeger's car. Joe hooks a brawny arm around your neck and pulls you inside. "The man of hour, fashionably late," he hoots.<br/>
<br/>
The others are in the living room: Rick on the sofa, nursing a glass tumbler filled with something brown; Frank and Carson relaxing in the floor, each with a bottle of beer. Joe goes into the kitchen to get one for you.<br/>
<br/>
Frank puts out a hand and smiles at you. It's a cool smile, but seems sincere enough. "I didn't have a chance to thank you yesterday. Thank you." His grip is like iron.<br/>
<br/>
"I got lucky," you mumble, feeling very embarrassed. "I probably shouldn't have run off that way to find you. I wasn't supposed to." You glance at Bredon.<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't matter," Bredon says. "I had it covered whichever way you jumped. I got two eyes, one for Ioeger and one for you. Once I saw you had the cadet out from under the blanket, I went back to what I was doing, then sat it out and watched for a bit."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you guys tell me more about what happened yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not much to tell," Frank says. "Ioeger and I split up and got through our list about as fast as you and Joe got through yours. Once we'd hit 'em all, we went back to Eastman and stripped the masks from the kids waiting there. Then we left them to find their way back home. There'll be a buzz at the school, but it'll fade with time."<br/>
<br/>
"Walberg told me—" You take your beer as Joe sits next to you. "Did you tell Carson it was Mr. Walberg behind it all?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pft, we had that figured out at the Strausslers'," Carson says. "Didn't you get it when you saw who was under the masks?"<br/>
<br/>
"I only saw two of them, and I didn't know who they were. Joe mostly took 'em in alone when we unmasked them," you add when Carson gives you a quizzical look.<br/>
<br/>
"He made the cutest little Monique," Joe says, and gives you a quick hug, which you push away with a surly cuss word. "So precious and vulnerable and innocent. The guys we were hunting took one look at her giant brown eyes and dropped their guard." He toasts you with his beer bottle, and chugs half of it down.<br/>
<br/>
"Who did you catch?" Carson asks. "From Westside, we caught Ms. Goretsky and Mr. Santiago and Coach Tesla. Oh, and Coach Porter. You had Mr. Gelding tied up here."<br/>
<br/>
"We most caught old people, their parents, I guess. But one young guy, at least. I didn't recognize him."<br/>
<br/>
"A friend or relative, probably," says Carson. "We had one or two like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Walberg was the only one I recognized. Uh, do we know who all they were at Westside? I mean, which of our friends were fakes?"<br/>
<br/>
An uncomfortable silence descends, and you're on the verge of withdrawing the question when Joe gets up. "Maybe it's a good idea you know. That way you'll know who to be, uh, gentle with when you go back to school."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Cripes, that's right. You'll have to go to school tomorrow, and you'll have lost a week and not have any idea what's going on. And Mr. Walberg will be there too!</i><br/>
<br/>
Joe brings in a big box, which makes a clinking sound when he drops it. "These are the masks from Westside. So, let's see— Oh, it could almost be Christmas, if we were going to use these things."<br/>
<br/>
"Joe," says Frank in a warning tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know, I know. Fuck, you guys shoulda spotted faux-Frank as a fake when he talked you guys into putting on masks. The real one never woulda stood for it. He has no sense of fun." He clucks his tongue as he takes out a mask.<br/>
<br/>
"But let's see. Anthony Kirk," he says as he reads the inside of the first mask, and lays it aside. "Ethan Nieves. Joseph Ysleta. Kendra Saunders. Yumi Saito."<br/>
<br/>
"We knew about those last two," Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
"Cameron Huber. Anita Nuevo. Kim Walsh. Dane Matthias."<br/>
<br/>
"It must've been Walberg playing Dane," you say. "Man, I <i>cannot</i> picture that. I mean, old Walrus-Butt as Dane?"<br/>
<br/>
"Rachel Burton. Jessica Garner. Caleb Johansson."<br/>
<br/>
You grab that one from him and stare into it, shivering hard. Sure enough, it's got Caleb's name inside it, and when you turn it over, you can make out the ghostly face of your best friend floating on the outer surface. <i>But for how long was a doppelganger playing him?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Steven Patterson. Gordon Black. Laurent Delacroix. Victoria Rodriguez. Geoffrey Mansfield. And that's it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>An interesting set,</i> you think. Some of them make sense to you: Gordon and Steve and Laurent, for a start. Kendra and Yumi. Some interesting omissions. <i>No one wanted to be Chelsea Cooper?</i> That surprises you.<br/>
<br/>
"What about Javits?" Carson asks. "Did you say his name?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe looks back through the masks as he returns them to the box. Seth's mask isn't in there. And it's not in the other boxes, Joe says, when he returns from the bedroom where they're keeping them.<br/>
<br/>
"Does that mean there's still another doppelganger out there?" you ask. "Maybe that's the one that has the— Did you guys find the book?"<br/>
<br/>
Heads shake, but no one seems upset. You and Carson exchange a worried glance.<br/>
<br/>
Just then the doorbell rings. "Maybe that's the mystery doppelganger come to turn himself in," says Bredon.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll get it," says Joe, and saunters over to the door. "Yes? Oh, hey! Hi! Prescott!" He grins as he pulls the visitor inside. "Your date's here!"<br/>
<br/>
Lisa Yarborough, looking deeply discomfited, even a little scared, stumbles in. "Oh. Hi, Will. Uh, Carson."<br/>
<br/>
You get up, feeling as confused as Lisa looks. <i>The fuck is going on?</i> "Lisa! I didn't know you were—! Um, about the other night—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's my fault, and I should explain," says Joe. "You remember me from Friday night, right?" he says to Lisa. "I was the one who got all handsy with your date down by the river."<br/>
<br/>
Lisa shrinks from him.<br/>
<br/>
"At least," says Joe very humbly. "That's what they tell me. See, I wasn't feeling myself. I got kicked in the head or something, was practically somebody else. I don't normally go around doing things like that. I'm actually a sweetie-pie. Forgive me?" He turns dopey puppy-dog-eyes on her, and blinks piteously.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," says Lisa, sounding ever more uncertain by the moment.<br/>
<br/>
"So, to compensate you guys, I arranged for this make up date. That was me who called you a little while ago. I was pretending to be Will. I'm, uh, kind of a mimic, and I wanted to surprise him. No hard feelings, are there, Prescott? Just a little thank-you gesture from all of us, getting things square between you and Lisa, show how much we appreciate your help the last few days."<br/>
<br/>
You have to stare before you find your voice. "Sure. I mean, thanks," you say, and look around. Frank looks watchful; Rick looks bored; Carson looks as baffled as you.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, um, since I'm here, and we're ready," Lisa says, her voice coming in quick gasps. "Maybe we could go?" Her smile is rather ghastly.<br/>
<br/>
You nod, but Joe steps in front of you. "Oh hey, Lisa, you got a little schmutz on your—" His hand goes over her face, and he mutters something rapidly. There's a sound of ripping cloth, and Lisa collapses to the floor, wallowing in the ruins of her dress.<br/>
<br/>
Except it's not Lisa. It's a fat man with a bad comb-over and a greasy-looking moustache-goatee combination. His tongue protrudes from his mouth as his head lolls.<br/>
<br/>
You jump, and jump again when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Carson's eyes are starting from his head. "It's Professor Blackwell!" he exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"Jinkies!" laughs Joe.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"No, it wasn't him all along," snorts Rick after he and Frank have handcuffed the professor and bundled him into a car. "Except way back at the start. But if you want to hear the whole thing from the beginning, come with me out to his villa. Though I'll warn you, it won't be pleasant."</span></div></div>


path: 11333121211111222111222112121111111212111211
author_id: seuzz
title: Blackwell's Villa, and What Was Learned There
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It all goes back to a death in upstate New York," Bredon says. The five of you—you, Carson, Bredon, Joe and Frank—are at the gate to Blackwell's villa; the professor, inside Bredon's car, is fuming and glaring. Bredon leads you into the yard. "An old lady died. No one special, but somehow the details of her pitiful little estate dribbled out and into obscure channels. That would have been the end of it, but one man who had his ear dipped in those channels was our cuddlesome Professor Blackwell, who is an amateur—a <i>very amateur</i>—warlock."<br/>
<br/>
"Those are the worst kind," Joe confides in your ear. "Usually they're so incompetent they only manage to blow <i>other</i> people up."<br/>
<br/>
"There was only one really valuable item in her estate," Bredon is saying, "an old book called the <i>Libra Personae,</i> and the long and the short of it is that the professor managed to lay hands on it."<br/>
<br/>
"The book that makes masks," Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
"You've been paying attention. Good. Well, the professor got it back here, and he started experimenting with it, managed to make a few things. And then—the details how aren't relevant—he lost it. It landed at a used bookstore, which is where Prescott picked it up."<br/>
<br/>
"Do me a favor, Will," Carson mutters. "Stop hanging around bookstores. You don't improve them, and I doubt they improve you."<br/>
<br/>
"You know what happened after that," Bredon says. "But to tell that same story from the professor's point of view—"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, Rick, do we really want to be going in here?" Joe points to the lintel above the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Good eye, kid. But I took care of the bad stuff yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Is this where you were?" you ask as you all enter the foyer.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. You see, our little company also heard about the <i>Libra,</i> but we got there too late. We picked up the trail, though, and followed it back here. Frank and Joe took up station; meanwhile, I'd figured out that Blackwell had a hand in the <i>Libra's</i> hijacking." He gestures at Frank and Joe. "But then these two doorknobs got distracted."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!"<br/>
<br/>
"Not that it would have done much good if they <i>had</i> followed up with the professor, since as I say he'd lost the <i>Libra</i> by then. He was frantic at first, but then became resigned to it. Resigned, that is, until you two idiots visited him and started prattling about doppelgangers at your school. Let's go upstairs."<br/>
<br/>
The stairs are dark and quiet, and only a little light filters into the upstairs passage. Rick opens the door to one of the rooms and motions you all in. It looks like a spare bedroom, unfurnished except for a bed—covered only with a blanket—and a wardrobe. Against the far wall, lying on the floor, are three white things that look like marble statues: two of them look finished, but the third is just a rough, formless heap.<br/>
<br/>
Rick opens the wardrobe, and from it he takes a mask. "I said Blackwell managed to play around with the <i>Libra</i> before he lost it. He made a mask of himself. Aubrey Blackwell," he says, reading the inside of the mask, and tosses it onto the bed. "He also got himself a second identity." He takes out a second mask. "Lucille Vredenburg. Name mean anything to anyone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lucy Vredenburg? That's Cindy's sister," says Carson before you can speak. "Cindy goes to our school, Lucy's her older sister."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Was</i> her older sister," Rick corrects him. "The mask is all that's left of her." He tosses it onto the bed. "He was very thorough about getting rid of the body." <br/>
<br/>
You and Carson exchange saucer-eyed looks of horror. <br/>
<br/>
"As for Cindy herself," Rick continues, and takes out a third mask. "After he heard from you two geniuses, he used his mask of Lucy to get to the little sister. Lured her out here, made her a prisoner, and made a mask of her." He tosses it onto the bed. "He then used Cindy's mask to get close to Cindy's ex-boyfriend, a strapping lad by the name of Seth Javits." He draws out a fourth mask. "Which is where he wanted to get. He'd heard from Ioeger and Prescott that Javits was an imposter. He knew how to get masks off people, so he lured Javits's double out here, stripped him of the disguise, and made the man underneath another prisoner. He then returned to Westside as a double of a double, by pretending to be the man who had taken over Seth Javits's existence. Rather like you four were doing yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"That's how Blackwell got hold of the <i>Libra</i> again!" Joe exclaims. "I mean, that's what you're going to say, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Frank glares at him. "Do you <i>always</i> have to blurt out spoilers?" <br/>
<br/>
"Yes, that's how Blackwell got the <i>Libra</i> back," says Rick. "Meanwhile the Westside imposters got inside some masks of Ioeger and Prescott and learned about the visit they'd made to Blackwell." He turns to Joe. "And since they also had the memories of <i>this</i> bright-eyed chimp to draw on, they also knew that Blackwell had been involved early on and would certainly get involved again. That's the main reason they jumped so fast from one high school to the other. They were less worried that I'd show up and more worried that Blackwell would. But he got inside their group first, and he even helped them make the move, selflessly insisting that he be one of the last to escape to the other school. When it was only him and Walberg, though, he snuck back into that loft and made off with the <i>Libra.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know all this?" Carson asks. "If it's not a spoiler," he adds, edging away from Frank.<br/>
<br/>
"I know it because I made Blackwell my priority," says Rick. "He was the main threat. You two kept babbling about doppelgangers, but I knew you weren't in any danger from <i>them.</i> Think about it. They were onto you, but they made no moves against you. They set some spies on you, they tried framing you, but they just couldn't bring themselves to hurt you, even to the extent of burying you under masks like they did their other victims." He shrugs. "Not that that makes them virtuous. It just means that not one of them looked at either of you and said, 'Yeah, I'd like to be <i>him</i>'."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you don't have to put it <i>that</i> way," Carson murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"But Blackwell is an adder. Once you told me you'd been to see him, I came out here. Couldn't get in that first night, so I rounded up Black and Patterson and put some hard questions to them, tested them for authenticity, tried bringing them in as deputies—they're bigger and smarter than you two—but I couldn't close the deal. So I had to let you act as bait," he says to Carson. "I knew I could put a watch on you, and I did, because I wanted to see how to get a mask off someone. Once I saw how—when they pulled Frank's mask off you—I hustled over here and put the screws to Blackwell. I found out he was a fake, and got the mask off the thing underneath. Then I took a huge gamble by putting it on. It might have buried me. But it didn't. And once I was inside, I knew his whole history and plan, and what he'd been doing since getting the <i>Libra</i> back.<br/>
<br/>
"He'd been hiding out at Cindy Vredenburg's house, but then last Friday, the day I showed up, and the day Ioeger paid a second visit out here, he got a call from his robo-replacement. See, that was his placeholder that you saw that day, and it listened with rapt interest when you told it about Frank and Joe. It called up its master after you left. He came back and got the full story out of the mask, same way I was to do later. Blackwell wondered who Frank and Joe were, since they obviously knew something of this business. It worried him, so he decided to get find out what they knew.<br/>
<br/>
"He had many of the teachers' old supplies with him, which he'd also stolen. Some blank masks, and two very special masks that he'd stolen along with the <i>Libra.</i> See, he wanted to keep a close eye on Ioeger and Prescott, and once he had Cindy Vredenburg's memories he knew how to do that. So he stole two masks the teachers had made, masks of Jennifer Ashton and Lisa Yarborough. As them, he knew he could get close to you two. Very close."<br/>
<br/>
You shiver hard, and freeze when he turns to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell immediately trapped and changed places with your girl, and called your double. That was the riverside date you interrupted. He was trying to get your mask off the kid here, so that he could get a copy of the kid's brain to see what he could learn about him. But you got in the way. I don't know when he would have tried again, but I talked the kid here into laying a trap for him this afternoon. And now here we are."<br/>
<br/>
There's a lot to digest, but you've only one question for now: "Where's Lisa?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know for sure, but I suspect she's hidden under a mask of Cindy Vredenburg."<br/>
<br/>
"So where's Cindy? The real one?" asks Carson. "And Seth?"<br/>
<br/>
"Javits is back out there as himself. The teachers pulled one of their colleague's faces off him after the fake Javits disappeared. As for Cindy, and that teacher who was playing Javits—" Rick nods at those statues.<br/>
<br/>
You all crowd around. One of them is a formless lump. But the other two are perfect realizations in stone of Cindy Vredenburg and Mr. Leavey, your old French and Latin teacher.<br/>
<br/>
"Can we fix them?" asks Frank in a hollow voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. We won't know until we get the <i>Libra</i> out of Lisa Yarborough's house. Anyone have any ideas on how to do that?" he adds with studied insolence.</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111112221112221121211111112121112111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Fate of Bad Things
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll do it," you say, and the words feel very thick in your throat and mouth. "I started this whole mess, I should be the one to—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not a reason, Prescott," says Frank.<br/>
<br/>
"He's taking responsibility," says Bredon. His manner continues insolent. "I know some people who'd think that's a pretty good reason for seeing it to the end."<br/>
<br/>
You feel your face turning red, and it's no relief to see Frank also blushing slightly.<br/>
<br/>
You're rescued by Carson. "Hang on," he says. "How about -- ? The Cindy who's out there, she thinks she's Cindy, right? It's not Lisa wondering why she's got Cindy's face, is she?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, she'll be acting like the real girl," says Bredon.<br/>
<br/>
"Then we can do it like this. I know Cindy. I'm not, like, huge friends with her, but I know her. I can call her up to invite her to coffee or something, and we can get the mask off her then, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"In the middle of a coffee shop?" Frank asks. He cocks a skeptical eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
"Or in her car, or -- "<br/>
<br/>
"It's a reasonable way of getting the girl herself back," says Bredon. "But how are you going to get the book?" He peers down the bridge of his nose at Carson, and there's a glint in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," he says, then pauses. His eyes dart about, and the muscles in his jaw works. "Well, after we get the mask off, she's Lisa again, right? Except she's got amnesia."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, how are you going to explain that?" Joe demands. "And her clothes. How are you going to explain how she got into Cindy's clothes?<br/>
<br/>
"I don't," Carson retorts. "Explain it to her, I mean. I'll just jolly her along like nothing happened. She's not gonna say anything, she'll be too confused and embarrassed. But I'll just keep talking, so she doesn't even get a chance to ask me. And I'll tell her -- I'll pretend we've been talking about this book that's back at her house that she's supposed to give me, and I'll get her to take me back to her place, and I'll get this <i>Libra</i> thing out that way."<br/>
<br/>
"You a good enough talker?" Rick asks.<br/>
<br/>
Joe's hand shoots up. "I'll go too. I can talk."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you can't <i>stop</i> talking," says Frank.<br/>
<br/>
Joe clutches his chest and writhes in mock pain. "Oh, I am mortally wounded! What noble blood is upon this vexatious ground spilt! Comfort me in my agonies, Prescott—" He clutches at your hand "—and remember me in thy prayers!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So Joe and Carson go on this errand, much to your relief. It would be too weird being with Lisa, let alone in a mask of her.<br/>
<br/>
But you still feel like you've funked a test, even though it was the others who basically stopped you from acting on your offer. So you're eager to help out however you can, and say so.<br/>
<br/>
"I have to take deal with the Great and Powerful Oz out there," Rick says as he leads you and Frank downstairs. You'd almost forgotten that Blackwell is still sitting handcuffed in the back of Bredon's sedan. "You two can move the girl's car back to her place."<br/>
<br/>
So you take Frank in yours back to the house he and Joe share to pick up Lisa's car. Naturally, you talk on the way. Probably you shouldn't pry, but Frank is rather quiet otherwise, and you've nothing else to ask but the dangerous and the obvious questions. Like: "What are you going to do with the <i>Libra</i> when you get it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Study it for ways to put Cindy and that teacher back to the way they were," he says. "That might take an afternoon. or it might take longer."<br/>
<br/>
"And after that?" You feel rather than hear the quaver in your voice. Will Frank admit the kind of plans that he and his friends might have for it?<br/>
<br/>
He looks over at you, then looks away at the passing scenery -- open fields by the river with the occasional house. "Put it where people can't get to it and make mischief with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not destroy it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why didn't <i>you</i> destroy it?" he retorts. "When you had it. Instead of trying to bury it in a time capsule."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you admit. "Maybe I thought, you know, if it's a real book of magic, you can't destroy it."<br/>
<br/>
"Good instinct," Frank says. :That often turns out to be the case. And sometimes trying to destroy something like that turns loose even worse things. Like trying to burn a toxic waste dump."<br/>
<br/>
"So are you guys going to put it in a box and bury it, like I was?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sort of. You know what they did with the Ark of the Covenant at the end of that first Indiana Jones movie?"<br/>
<br/>
"The put it in a box and put it in a big warehouse. Where it would be impossible to find."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. We got a place like that. Only it's a lot more secure than any warehouse. 'Cos it's magic, like the <i>Libra,</i> and you can put things into it, but it's very hard to get them out."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. I guess that's a relief," you say, but Frank only grunts. "It's too bad you don't have a place like that where you can put Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
He turns toward you again. "Who says we don't?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you do? Like a jail?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. What did you <i>think</i> you were going to do with him?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug, and bite your tongue.<br/>
<br/>
"You thought we were going to kill him?" Frank asks. He sounds shocked.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we're not! Fuck!" Now he sounds hurt. "No, we've got a jail, of sorts. Only it's not really a jail. It's more like a hospital. It keeps people like him safe and out of the way until they're cured and can come out again."<br/>
<br/>
"Cured? Of what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Bad thoughts."<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure you like the sounds of that. "You mean like brainwashing?"<br/>
<br/>
You have to look over at Frank when he doesn't reply. He's looking at you like you're the most repulsive thing he's ever seen.<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says. "Nothing like brainwashing. It's just -- " He clucks his tongue and looks away.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, it's kind of like this," he says when he resumes. "Have you ever had a really bad day, one where you got pissed off at people and they got pissed off at you, and you plotted all kinds of revenge against them, and you went to bed full of plans about what you were going to do to them? And then you woke up the next morning and you'd forgotten all about it. Or if you remembered, you felt really foolish and ashamed, and instead of getting revenge you went out and did lots of nice things for those people, to make up for those evil thoughts you'd been having?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... No."<br/>
<br/>
"No?" Frank sounds shocked. "Do you ever go to bed feeling mad at people and wanting to hurt them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. It's just -- Well, I guess I get what you're saying, because a lot of times I do feel better when I wake up. But I don't go around, you know, being <i>extra gooey nice</i> to them."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd feel better if you did," he snaps. "Well, whatever. Anyway, something like that can happen with a life. A whole life. You can get yourself terribly twisted up, full of hate and fear and resentment and envy. You can do terrible things to other people. You can make yourself into a very bad person. But it's the kind of thing that a night's sleep won't cure. The knots are too tight. <br/>
<br/>
"But a very long sleep can, one where you wrestle with yourself, fighting those knots, loosening and undoing them, freeing yourself from them. And when you wake up, well -- " He shrugs. "You feel very foolish about the things you did before, and you try really hard to make up for them. Mostly," he adds in a more thoughtful tone, "it's not because you feel guilty, particularly, but because you just feel deeply embarrassed.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, we've got a kind of magical sanitarium where people can have those very long rests. Months long, sometimes years long. It's not a prison or even a hospital, because you're asleep, and you're not sick and you're not being punished. You just rest and work out all your agonies in your dreams. Anyway, that's where we're taking Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
That's a much better fate for him than you were imagining. "It sounds kind of nice," you say. "And after all this crap, I kind of feel like I'd like that kind of a rest."<br/>
<br/>
"No you don't," says Frank. "It's a spooky place, and you really don't want to go there, but it's better than the alternatives, and the people really are okay when they come out of it. I've met a few of them. It's rude to talk about their time there. But you hear about what they were like before, and then you meet them, and it's an amazing change."<br/>
<br/>
The conversation lapses for a couple of blocks, which is good, because the traffic has thickened as you approach downtown. "Anyway," Frank resumes when you've stopped at a light, "I want to tell you again that you did a good job. The only part of it you fucked up was giving that book to your teacher, and even then your instinct was right. You wanted to bury it, and that's basically what we're going to do. But you had your eyes open to what was going on, and you didn't totally lose your head, and you showed some real guts in places. Ioeger did too." He pauses. "We could use people like that."<br/>
<br/>
Your tongue cleaves to the roof of your mouth, for this is beginning to sound like an invitation. "Is, uh, is that how you and Joe got into this business? Because you got mixed up in something, and you helped Rick out?"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs, a little hollowly. "No, it's more complicated than that, at least in our case, with me and Joe and Rick. But we do have people in the business who, like you put it, got mixed up in it. I don't know what you want to do with your life, but I think we'd accept an application from you."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211122211212111111121211121111
author_id: seuzz
title: In Which You Apply Yourself Without Knowing It
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I don't know what you want to do with your life," Frank says while you're stopped at a light, "but I think we'd accept an application from you."<br/>
<br/>
"To work with you? To do what you guys do?" you ask, and Frank nods. "Is there any money in it?"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs, and this time he sounds genuinely delighted. "No, there isn't any money in it. You'd have to have a separate job to support yourself. But we could help you out there too."<br/>
<br/>
He shifts in his seat so he can look at you face on. "If you're even a little bit interested, when we're all back together at the house, Joe's wants to give you a test. You know, like a vocational interest test. First part's on the computer, and then there's a questionnaire, a kind of personality test."<br/>
<br/>
You can hardly believe this offer. You fucked up things so badly before you started putting them right, and you don't know anything about the kind of stuff they're involved in. Most of all you just can't believe that anyone would want your help. "Are you sure you want me?" you squeak. "Would <i>Rick</i> be okay with this?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's the one that told us to give you the test. He's pretty sure you'll ace it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yesterday, while you were at the house with him, were you playing a game on our laptop?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Were you?</i> So much has happened since then that— "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was bored."<br/>
<br/>
"It's fine. But Rick noticed it, and he noticed your score on it. He had Joe look at it. It was a good score. Like, <i>really</i> good."<br/>
<br/>
"It didn't seem that hard. I mean, once I figured out the pattern—"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just don't worry about it. Are you willing to at least take the test? Good," he says when you numbly nod.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You pick up Lisa's car -- which has been waiting at Frank and Joe's house all this time -- and Frank drives it back as you lead in your truck. After you and he exchange some polite words with her mother, you return to their place to await the others. About an hour later, during which time you and Frank relax with some sports on the TV, Joe saunters in with a trumpet-like hoot on his lips. "The victors return!" he shouts, and pumps his fists in the air. "Those were two really hot girls," he says. "How'd you let Lisa get away from you?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't," you retort. "She <i>dumped</i> me."<br/>
<br/>
"That must'a sucked," Joe says. He sounds very cheerful, even as Carson, who's followed him in, frowns at the back of his head. "What's it like being dumped? That never happens to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have to be such a bragging asshole about it?" Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just asking!"<br/>
<br/>
"Less asking, more tasking." Frank gets to his feet. "You get the <i>Libra</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe snaps his fingers and puts out his hand. With a sour expression, Carson hands it to him. Joe waves it in the air. "And that is that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Not until we find a way to fix that girl and that teacher," Frank retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"That's my homework for tonight," Joe says. "No biggie, I'll have it figured out -- "<br/>
<br/>
"If you can have it figured out tonight, you can have it figured out this afternoon. But first you should do that thing with Will and Carson."<br/>
<br/>
Joe flicks his merry expression onto you. "You talked to him about it?" he asks Frank. "Good," he says when Frank nods. He tucks one of his arms into Carson's, and the other into yours. "Then let's go have some fun," he says as he drags you and your friend into the dining nook where the laptop is. "Call us in a pizza, bro!" he shouts back at Frank.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Rick told me you were playing one of the games on my laptop," he says as he pushes you into a chair and leans over your shoulder. "Fire it up for me."<br/>
<br/>
You do as he asks, though you're fucked if you understand what's so important about it. It's a kind of geometry game: against a timer, you have to join small patterns into larger and more complex patterns, which alter into new patterns once such an addition has been made. Every pattern has a distinct "hook" that you have to use to get it to connect to another pattern, and you have to not only remember the shape of the hooks and the patterns they connect to, but what order the patterns evolve so that you can evolve a pattern into a new configuration that will contain the kind of hook that you need for other patterns. It's interesting and challenging, but not especially fun, and you only press on with because Joe is watching so intently.<br/>
<br/>
When you finally lose—as in Tetris, this is a game where you only put off losing as long as possible—Joe turns it over to Carson while sending you into the kitchen to help Frank do some dishes that have piled up. Carson soon joins you, having been quickly baffled by the game, and you get feel superior to him for once. Then the pizza arrives, and over it Joe challenges you and Ioeger and Frank to a kind of parlor game.<br/>
<br/>
It's a strange kind of question-and-answer thing, putting the same queries to each of you in turn. Some of the questions are straightforward: When is your birthday? How many siblings do you have? What is your dad's job? What is your favorite color? Some are eccentric: Would you rather eat a tadpole or a titmouse? If strawberries didn't taste like strawberries, what would they taste like? Some are just nonsensical: Do you prefer metal hinges or Corgi dogs? Which hemisphere is the Martian capital in? He sketches while you answer, shifting between three sheets of drafting paper according to who is giving the answer. Sometimes he has to use a ruler or a compass. When he's done—about hour later—he laughs and says it was all just a giant gag, and throws the papers away. Ioeger cusses him for wasting time.<br/>
<br/>
You're coming out of the bathroom a little later when you hear low voices coming from a nearby bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
Joe: "It was a waste with Ioeger. He flunked the sigil game instantly, and his chart was a mess. But we knew that before we even started."<br/>
<br/>
Frank: "He's got a good head, Joe. He's got the right spirit, too."<br/>
<br/>
Joe: "No argument from me. I'd offer him an associate spot tonight, but it's not my call. Prescott, though, Rick was dead on there."<br/>
<br/>
Frank: "Given what he told us about the <i>Libra,</i> I'm not surprised."<br/>
<br/>
Joe: "It's a deader certainty than that. Kenandandra and Sulva, bro. Oh c'mon, can you at least pretend to know what that means?"<br/>
<br/>
Frank: "I don't know any Sulvae off-hand."<br/>
<br/>
Joe: "'Cos there aren't any. That's how come Prescott's been hidden so long, and it's why he's so spooky under a mask. The Moon is a mirror, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
Frank: "So you want to tell him now or later?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a sudden silence, and to avoid getting caught eavesdropping, you hustle into the front part of the house. You're astonished to find Joe sprawled on the floor there, helping Carson to set up a chessboard. Joe does a double-take when he sees you. "Something on your mind, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just thought I heard you, uh, talking to Frank."<br/>
<br/>
"I was. Am. Multitasking." To Carson: "You can play white." To you: "You overhear something that interested you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing I understood."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we can fix that. Go find Frank. And me." To Carson: "You're not opening with <i>that</i> gambit, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
The bedroom door is open, but you knock softly at it anyway before putting your head in. You're more dismayed than shocked to find Joe inside, standing next to Frank. He grins, even as you hear his voice from the living room as he and Carson argue over chess strategies. Frank shoots him a quick glare. "Don't mind him," he tells you. "He's just showing off. Close the door." You oblige.<br/>
<br/>
"So I told you Joe was going to give you a test," Frank continues. "You passed with flying colors. We were sure you would."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of a test?" You glance at Joe. "And I thought you said that question game was a lot of bullshit."<br/>
<br/>
"That was for Carson's benefit," says Frank. "For now. Look, we haven't really told you that much about ourselves. Who we are and where we come from -- "<br/>
<br/>
"We're from outer space," Joe says. He looks very serious for a moment, then cracks up. "Oh, the look on your face, Prescott. I'm yanking your chain. I'm from Germany and Frank is from Italy. We're totally normal."<br/>
<br/>
"Except we're not, really," Frank says. He looks discomfited, even nervous, and he shifts from one foot to the other while frowning deeply. "Look, you know after all this stuff that went on that magic -- well, we don't like that word, but there's not a better one -- it's real. And there's real magic books and warlocks and witches -- "<br/>
<br/>
"And that's what you guys are?" you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
Both their faces tighten. "Let's just say we've got certain, uh, prodigies," says Frank.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, for right now just think of us as the X-Men," says Joe. "Call them 'mutant powers' and be done with it. Or we're like the Justice League. There's a bunch of us -- well, not a bunch, only a couple of dozen -- and our job is to keep the bad things down. Things like the <i>Libra.</i> Things like Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
Frank cocks his head, and a gleam comes into his eye. "Did you have fun the past couple of days?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really," you admit. "I mean, it was kind of exciting. And I did my best to help."<br/>
<br/>
"And you did a good job," says Frank. "I told you that. Point being -- "<br/>
<br/>
"How'd you like to take a job with us?" says Joe.<br/>
<br/>
Frank had mentioned such a thing before, in the car. That had been a hint. This sounds like the actual offer.<br/>
<br/>
Then Joe floors you with a follow-up. "Because you're already one of us, in a way. The test showed it. You're an X-Man."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well then. What can you do but say yes?<br/>
<br/>
Continue: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/11121" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1942914">Return to the Scene of a Crime</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/11121" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111122211122211212111111121211122
author_id: seuzz
title: A Life Without Masks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Eventually the anxious and restless feeling fades. You stay up very late, for there is still an aching buzz in your head. But around eleven you go to bed, and your dreams, though vivid, are not disturbing.<br/>
<br/>
The next morning brings church and Sunday dinner, and late in the afternoon your cousin Umeko shows up for a visit. You jump every time a phone rings, thinking it might be Frank or Joe or Carson or even Rick Bredon, but it never is. You come close to calling one of them a couple of times. But you figure that if they want to talk to you, they'll call you; and anyway, you'll see Carson on Monday.<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of which, it gradually dawns on you that school will be rougher from here on in, at least in Mr. Walberg's class.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But it goes better than you'd expect. His class is taken by a substitute—the non-supernatural kind—on Monday and Tuesday, and when he returns on Wednesday he treats you no differently, and no worse (though no better) than anyone else. For at least the next month he seems in a very bad humor, and for the rest of the semester he is gruff and distant and barely polite. But if you think you sometimes catch him giving you the fish eye, he is never unfair in grading your papers or tests. And though he's a hard-ass, you end the semester with a B-minus in his class.<br/>
<br/>
It's a little worse with Gordon Black and Steve Patterson. As far as you could tell, they never even knew who you were before the year started. Now—thanks to this adventure, and that breakfast with Rick Bredon—they do know you, and you catch them casting slit-eyed glances in your direction. That makes you extremely nervous, but they never do anything to you, and they never speak to you. Once, even, you're rescued by Gordon, though not in the same way as when it was one of the doppelgangers playing his part. Tanner Evans is crowding you by a water fountain not long after the spring semester starts, when he suddenly vanishes from view. You blink in time to see Gordon swinging him around, slamming against a nearby locker, and ramming a hard fist deep into his gut; Evans falls to the floor and vomits. Gordon then stalks away without a backward glance; and you're pretty sure he never looked at you once while dealing with Evans. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, they're being weird, but not in <i>that</i> way," Carson says when you tell him about it. He and James have given up listening in on the "fuck room", and even given up on badmouthing Gordon's crew behind their backs; and Gordon and Steve and the rest have apparently stopped trying to stuff Carson and James down inside toilets. <br/>
<br/>
And that's about all that Carson has to say on the subject of people acting out of character, for he absolutely refuses to discuss your late adventures together. "I said if we ever got out of it alive I'd never talk to you again," he says through gritted teeth when you first broach the subject, on that first day back at Westside. "I've decided I <i>will</i> talk to you, but only on the condition that we <i>never</i> talk about that weird shit again." He's mostly decent after that, though sometimes he does get very dark and growly with you. You watch your friends—and others you know were replaced by doppelgangers—very closely, but you never see anything really weird; and the few times they seem to be acting odd you're able to convince yourself it's only your imagination.<br/>
<br/>
And Frank and Joe Durras? They disappear from Eastman, and you never see them or Rick Bredon again. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And that would be the end, when you graduate, but for one very faint coda—maybe—about seven or eight years later.<br/>
<br/>
In college you discover you've an uncanny knack for computer programming. It serves you well, and you hop from one well-paying job to another, always with a big bump in salary, until you wind up in the United Kingdom of all places, in Leeds, working for a company called IMS. And one day, out of the blue, Carson Ioeger crosses your path again. "My job?" he laughs when you meet him at a pub for lunch at his invitation. "Who'd hire <i>me</i>?" He still looks much the same—lanky, with frizzled hair, the devil's own grin, and much lived-in clothes—but now he smokes like a chimney.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I just fuck around with whatever shit pays for my next pack of smokes and grilled cheese," he tells you. "You'll cover for me here, won't you? Not that I'm seriously trying to sponge off you, I'll be out of your hair tomorrow, I picked up something down in London and I'm just passing through. Yeah, I was Googling people a few months ago, saw you were here. I was in Sweden at the time, but made a note to look you up if I drifted this way. You look good, man, considering how little sunlight you must get. Oh, fuck me, what <i>wasn't</i> in Sweden? Babes! But for serious, I was doing a freelance journalism project, research on an old Swedish nobleman, this scary, old-timey alchemist or black magician or something. No, I'm not into that shit, what are you, fucking nuts? Not after our senior year. Fuckin' brutal, that. Oh, right, I did threaten to not talk to you anymore, didn't I? Well, that's all old history. But what do you hear from the guys back in Saratoga Falls? Asshole I am, I ain't been back in years—"<br/>
<br/>
And so the lunch goes very long, and you're ninety minutes late returning to work because Carson gets you mildly drunk, and it's not until you see the vast column of smoke pouring out of the hole where the IMS building had been that you discover how lucky it was he showed up that day and kept you out late, or else you'd have been blown to bits in the same freak explosion that reduced your colleagues to little puddles of green organic goo that not even DNA tests could identify as human. <br/>
<br/>
You get a job back in the States after that, where building codes are, if not stricter, at least <i>American.</i></span></div></div>


path: 11333121211112
author_id: rugal
title: Suspiciously Trustworthy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, sure. Okay. I'll tell you." you say to him after a moment, "And I'll tell Caleb too.""<br/>
<br/>
"After you tell Cal--what?" Carson asks and you can already note the disapproval in his voice. "I told you that you can't tell anyone about this, I even singled out Johansson, and you want to blab to him."<br/>
<br/>
"And you have a problem with this?" you challenge him.<br/>
<br/>
"You're goddamn right I have a problem with this, Prescott!" he exclaims holding your gaze, "James and I know about this place. There's probably a couple more, a lot of downtrodden outcast types like us at this school you know, but we don't really cross over or tell one another who has the room. Much less chance of it getting out and back to those assholes if everyone thinks they're the only ones that know."<br/>
<br/>
"So then why can't--"<br/>
<br/>
"Because Johansson could slip up. And Tilley would probably throw it out to Javits to try and save himself." Carson says before you can even finish your thought.<br/>
<br/>
You cross your arms, "So then why tell me?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm starting to wonder that myself." he replies eyeing you, "Maybe it's because I wanted to show you that if there's anything funny going on it's normal funny business and not... fuck, I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
"We really should bring Caleb in." you say, this time in a more insistent manner. "He's smarter than me, he'd be a huge help."<br/>
<br/>
"Will I told you...!" Carson's hands ball up and you can see the irritation on his face. You don't waver however and you can see him ready to mouth a curse word. Instead he just makes a kicking motion and turns around shaking his head. "You're really not going to quit until I bring him in, are you?" he sighs, "Fine. He's in. But I swear to god if anything gets out I'll do like I said earlier with Black, whoever he is, and then <i>I'll</i> kick your ass for good measure."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You call up Caleb and thankfully he hasn't left school yet telling you that he had some things he needed to take care of. You tell him that you want to get together with him and Carson and after a bit of cajoling he agrees and the three of you head to the Burger Palace over on Walker St. to discuss things. You try to be as concise as possible while explaining about the book, the tennis court, the conversation in the bathroom, Javits and Cindy, and what you and Carson overheard. However you wind up doubling back and elaborating a few times worried that you're not being clear. Caleb is silent for moment before speaking.<br/>
<br/>
"So okay, you're telling me that you think someone took that book and using magic is going around and replacing people at the school like Black and Javits?" he asks and then he chuckles a bit, "I mean Javits actually growing a spine around Cindy <i>is</i> weird but really?"<br/>
<br/>
"I fucking told Prescott. And now this guy's going to go blabbing about to them to try and get in good." Carson says slouching and folding his arms.<br/>
<br/>
"Look Caleb, Carson didn't believe me at first either but we know what we heard." You say pleadingly, "Weird shit is going down at the school. You have to believe us."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb leans back and places his hand to his chin, "Look I'm not dismissing it out of hand, maybe because I've played my share of D&amp;D so real magic would be kinda cool you know, but you have to know how crazy it sounds to anybody." He then smirks a bit, "Besides if they're replacing assholes like the basketball players they can't be all bad can they?"<br/>
<br/>
"They might've replaced Kim though." you say, "Dane too. What've <i>they</i> every done to anyone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Besides Kim giving me some nice dreams, nothing I guess." Caleb replies and takes a sip of his drink. "Look, Ioegger you don't have to worry about me blabbing since I'm not an idiot like Tilley. And maybe I don't completely believe you guys right now but I'll entertain the idea. Next time you go up there bring me if you want to convince me so much."<br/>
<br/>
Carson grumbles but eventually relents and at Caleb's insistence the two of them shake hands. The three of you then quickly finish up your meals and leave. You drop Carson off at his place and then suddenly you're struck by an idea. "Hey, I don't know if it'll completely convince you but maybe it could help." you say as you drive back to your neighborhood.<br/>
<br/>
"What's this now?" he asks, "Did I catch you mid thought or something?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head, "No, I just remembered that I took some notes before I gave the book to Walberg to put in the capsule. I transcribed some of the latin and translated what I could." you tell him, "I should still have them back at my place."<br/>
<br/>
"And what's that going to do?" Caleb asks folding his arms, "So we'll have some latin words, so what? We'll feel smarter when one of us starts up a game of Fallout or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, look. I have these notes okay? So we grab them and look them over and then, I don't know, maybe we do some Googling and see if it can give us a little more information on that book." You explain to him.<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't do that already?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh, "I didn't think of it at the time. Actually I probably should've mentioned it to Carson too." you whine, "Ugh, whatever. I'll just bring them to school tomorrow and give them to him or we can look over them then or something."<br/>
<br/>
You drive back to your place and head inside. However after getting inside you're overcome by the sudden need to take a shit. Now you remember why you try to avoid eating from that place; people don't call it Burger Dump for no reason. You tell Caleb to head up to your room while excusing yourself into the bathroom. While occupied you have a bit of time to reflect on, and think about, what's happened. Caleb doesn't completely believe you and it took a chance case of eavesdropping before Carson believed something was up. You can hardly believe it yourself and if one of them had came and told you the same things you'd probably think they were crazy as well.<br/>
<br/>
Still, though, it's nice to know that you've got at least one ally in Carson and seemingly another in Caleb. Maybe you'll be able to figure out exactly what these people want and who they are... maybe you can stop them. At the very least having more people to watch each other's backs is definitely a good thing and who knows maybe Carson would be open to bringing in James and Jenny and maybe Yumi too once things blow over for her.<br/>
<br/>
After finishing up you head into your room. "Sorry I took so long." you say as you close the door.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb just shrugs as you step over to your desk to grab the notes. However when you go to actually get them you notice they're not there. That's strange, you were sure you put them right there with all of your other school notes and... You dig around the school notes but nothing. You check under and behind the desk but can't find a trace of them.<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't see anything written in latin did you?" you ask Caleb. You receive a negative response and grumble as you go to checking every corner of the room. However the search proves fruitless. "Fuck, mom probably came in here to clean and thought they were trash. Just fucking great." you groan.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry." Caleb says, "But I mean I'll still help you guys out or whatever so don't worry."<br/>
<br/>
With that you say you'll see each other at school tomorrow and after he leaves you throw yourself onto your bed in frustration.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning, as you're getting ready to head out, you ask your mom if she threw anything away while cleaning yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
"Well I'm sure I did Will, why?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't toss some papers out that were in my room did you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Your mother shakes her head. "No, actually I never even got around to cleaning upstairs. Why, did you lose something dear?"<br/>
<br/>
You get a probably very visible look of confusion on your face but shake your head. "Just having trouble finding something, that's all. I'll check when I get home." you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
As you drive to school you can't help but be confused by what's happened. You had the notes right there on your desk, you're sure of it. Did you misplace them somewhere? No that can't be it as you laid them right there and you don't remember ever touching them. And even if you did you checked every inch of that room three times over and found nothing. Maybe Robert was in your room and grabbed them? No, no that makes no sense at all. What use would <i>he</i> have for notes about a magic book? Hell he couldn't read a lick of latin; it'd probably think "carpe diem" was a type of fish or something.<br/>
<br/>
It bothers you as you head to class when you're suddenly greeted by Caleb as the two of you approach Walberg's.<br/>
<br/>
"Will what's up?" he asks as he walks up next to you. "You ever find those notes?"<br/>
<br/>
"No I..." you stop dead in your tracks.<br/>
<br/>
No way. It's something you don't want to consider at all but... fuck it's the only thing that makes sense to you. Caleb. It was Caleb. Caleb took the notes and lied to you. He knew your mom and how you always complain about her throwing things out without checking when she cleans so he'd know you'd jump to that conclusion and then... shit! Is Caleb part of that little club you and Carson overheard? Maybe they know you're onto them, you saw them at the tennis courts after all, and as your buddy he's spying on you. Or maybe he has to undergo some kind of test to join. Or...<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, Will? Hello? You there?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's voice is more like an echo to you. Did Caleb take the notes? Is he with them? Your head's spinning, your best friend... You should confront him but... no. You're probably being paranoid. Better to just ignore it and let things play out. Sit back and observe, right?</span></div></div>


path: 113331212111121
author_id: rugal
title: The Masterminds
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, I'm here." you mutter in response. You're not sure how to approach the topic so you just decide you'll take the straight approach. "No, I didn't have any luck finding them." you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shakes his head, "That sucks man, I'm sorry. They would've been really useful."<br/>
<br/>
"They would've, yeah." you say and then turn to him, "So what about you? You wouldn't happen to know where they are would you?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb eyes you, "Um, no? Remember?" he answers.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah but I'm asking you again: you have any idea where they are?"<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck,  I already told you--"<br/>
<br/>
You cutting him off. "Caleb don't bullshit me. I know where they were and my mom said she was never in my room." you state trying to remain calm.<br/>
<br/>
"Well maybe your brother took them." Caleb protests.<br/>
<br/>
Your voice becomes a little more desperate, "Come on, don't take me for an idiot here Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shakes his head, "Will, I don't know what the fuck you're getting at but--"<br/>
<br/>
"But what, huh? God stop trying to play dumb, you know exactly what I'm getting at." You glare at him; a rough and accusatory glare, "You took them Caleb. I went to the bathroom and you rummaged through my shit and pocketed them."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb seems taken aback by this. "You think I took them? What the hell man, what reason would I have to take them?"<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me." you challenge him. You know you're letting your emotions get the better of you know but you feel like you're on autopilot right now. You're upset, you can feel your heart beating faster. "I told you all that shit in confidence because you're my best friend and this... this..." your breathing is coming faster now, "How'd they get to you? Did they offer you Laurent or someone like that? Or maybe you've been replaced."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus Will, do you hear yourself? You sound like a lunatic. Getting involved was a mistake, I'm out of here." Caleb tries to leave but you clasp onto his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb, just tell me..." you say to him.<br/>
<br/>
"I TOLD you..."<br/>
<br/>
"I want the truth." you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Will..."<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell me the truth."<br/>
<br/>
"Will..."<br/>
<br/>
"That's all I want! Just tell me the truth!" you exclaim in a desperate manner.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, get the fuck off of me!" Caleb exclaims and then shoves you backwards.<br/>
<br/>
You're stunned. Did he just shove you? Did HE just shove YOU? He actually put his hands on you! Well fuck him! Fuck him! And with that you lose control and take a swing catching, more like clipping really, Caleb in the back of the head. He stumbles forward and turns back towards you with a look of disbelief on his face. At this time a crowd's gathered and Caleb too seems to lose control and swings at you in return catching you in the jaw. That does it; you charge at him ready to tackle him.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, what's going on out here?!" Walberg's voice booms as he steps out of the classroom.<br/>
<br/>
Walberg's appearance distracts you and you wind up clumsily tripping over your own feet and falling. And as you fall your head slams into the end of a row of lockers... hard. You can hear a few gasps, a few worried murmurs, and more than a few laughs. You hear Walberg's voice telling Caleb and another student to help bring you to the nurse's office where he'll talk to Caleb about what happened and then you. And then as the world goes black you hear nothing.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake up... well you're not sure how much later it is. It could be five minutes or it could be five hours. "God, what the hell happened?" you ask as you rub your head and that's when you notice there's no pain. And more than that you notice your arm: it's thinner and a little paler. That's also when you notice the wavy, shoulder-length light brown hair hanging in your face. And the... breasts... <i>32B, god I wish they were bigger</i> you think and you're surprised at that. But not at surprised at the lack of a cock between your legs. Or the fact you're...<br/>
<br/>
"Why am I naked?" you ask groggily taken aback at how girly your voice sounds; and there's something familiar about it too. "And a girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"So sleeping beauty finally awakens, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
You instantly recognize the familiar raspy voice. "Dane?!" you exclaim in surprise and notice another person standing by him. "And Patterson, what the fuck?!" You instinctively cover yourself up, a fact not lost on Dane.<br/>
<br/>
"Your clothes are right there you know." he replies with a smirk, "Unless she's an exhibitionist and I didn't know it."<br/>
<br/>
You look in the direction of the chair he's pointing at and see a pile of clothes. You head over and grab a pair of white and blue striped panties... fuck, what's going on? All you know is you're a girl, you're standing in the nude, and in addition to the two guys leering at you it's also kind of cold in this office. So with no real choice you put on the underwear and a pair of jeans. You fumble when it comes to the bra however.<br/>
<br/>
"You have to open your mind up to the memories in that thing." Dane says, "Just relax and let them come."<br/>
<br/>
"The memories, what the hell are you...?" you start but figure it's worthless. You try to relax like Dane said and you're suddenly assaulted by an onslaught of memories.<br/>
<br/>
<i>This morning sucked. Last night sucked too. Yumi I can't believe she... and because of those cheerleaders being angry at her? I guess I can understand having to lay low for a bit until things blow over but the way she did it so out of the blue like that. God that was so upsetting. It felt like I really was losing my best friend. I can't believe I spent all that time bawling like that, I literally cried myself to sleep! And then I woke up with that headache and just came straight here to the nurse's office when I got to school. A couple of students ran past me, Will Prescott and Caleb Johansson were getting ready to fight they said. I wondered why that'd happen but then... I don't remember. I blacked out.</i><br/>
<br/>
You finish hooking the bra and then throw on the shirt, socks, and shoes. Then you turn to Dane who's grinning from ear to ear. "You look cute, Jenny!" he exclaims before nudging Patterson, "Doesn't she look cute?"<br/>
<br/>
Patterson looks down a bit but then at you and sighs. "I guess." he says quietly in a decidedly un-Patterson manner.<br/>
<br/>
"So what the fuck is going on?" you ask, a definite edge to your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Fierce, I like it." Dane says with a smile. You don't return it. "You got injured real bad in that fight with Johansson; cracked your head on a locker real good. You could've died maybe, we had to save you. Throwing you under that mask was the only idea we had. Well when I say 'we' I mean Patterson here." he replies as Patterson shifts a bit uncomfortably.<br/>
<br/>
"Not what I meant but I guess that's a later question out of the way." you grumble, "No I mean what's going on? Who are you and what are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah ah, those questions are a little advanced for you I'm afraid." Dane smirks, "Well partly. Who are we? Think of us as... people who want change. People here have kind of shitty lives right? We want to help them. We've got these masks, they copy everything about a person. Throw it on someone and VWOOP! it takes their image; put it on and you become that person. Put a little bit of special sauce in it and whoever you put it on becomes like a perfect copy but under your control."<br/>
<br/>
"Like robots." you say as you sit back down on the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Sort of except less janky and rigid." states Dane. "So yeah we seek people out or suggest them, we approach them and ask them to join. They pick someone, an asshole like Patterson here--not <i>this</i> Patterson mind you--and they step in but only until the end of the school year, then everyone goes back."<br/>
<br/>
"So why Jenny? Why am I Jenny?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Dane hops up and walks over to you, "Don't think it's all assholes. We ask who they want to be, they pick, we make it happen. Someone wanted to be Jenny here but, well, you fell into their lap. They're gonna need a Plan B I guess." he shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
You eye him suspiciously, "And what about Caleb?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What <i>about</i> Caleb?" he repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"You saw me at the tennis court on Saturday. Did you think I knew anything? Is Caleb one of you and you set him on me? Did you replace him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa whoa, slow it down a bit." Dane replies motioning to slow down, "Yeah I saw you at the tennis court, so what? I didn't think anything of it. Is Caleb one of us? Nah. Did we replace him? We're not like that; we'd only replace him if someone wanted to be him, not to spy." With that the bell rings, "Shit, third period already? Well I gotta go, it's Old Lady Gibson's class and I've got a prime seat right behind Amanda Ferguson."<br/>
<br/>
With that he dashes off and you're left with Patterson, or the person pretending to be him. You look at him and he looks at you as you catch one another's eye. "How many of you are there?" you ask him as you and him exit the nurse's office.<br/>
<br/>
"As far as you're concerned? It's just me and Dane." he replies very matter-of-factly, "Give it some time and maybe you'll be let in a little more but for now... well, it's better that way. Sorry if we caused you any trouble, the paranoia and suspicion of your friend. We didn't mean for it to happen."<br/>
<br/>
You watch as he turns a corner opposite of where you're going. You remember hitting your head but after that? Well it's a convenient story Dane had cooked up isn't it? It makes it all sound so benevolent and perfect. And sorry for the paranoia? They didn't mean for it? You're not sure if you totally buy it or what they said about Caleb. They were ready to replace Jenny... maybe to keep an eye on Carson? Well if they suspect him then you need to watch out for him yourself and being Jenny Ashton would make that easy. But... something about Patterson seemed sincere. Shit, maybe you are being overly paranoid.</span></div></div>


path: 1133312121111212
author_id: rugal
title: The Popular Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You decide that you're letting your worries get the better of you and that it's best to put them aside for now. They were going to replace Jenny, they <i>did</i> replace Jenny. Dane tried to come off as your pal but something about him felt insincere. Patterson on the other hand felt more natural and sincere even without saying much, or anything really. He was the one who apparently decided to do what they could to save you as well so you can't help but feel a little grateful if you were as bad off as they said.<br/>
<br/>
You realize how weird it is to think of Steve Patterson as your savior but here you are. And "here" is definitely better than where you were you think to yourself as you once more put your hair behind your ear. Jenny's a cute girl in a very "girl next door" and attainable way and you definitely wouldn't have minded being close to her in the past though like this? You almost want to laugh. But instead you smile as you head off for Jenny's gym class and decide that you'll give this group, these people who are replacing others and who helped you, a chance.<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny..." comes the voice of Yumi as she walks up to you in the locker room as you throw your gym shirt over your head. Jenny was dreading this as they share this class. You say nothing. "Jenny, please..." she says and again she's met with silence. "I'm sorry." she says with more than a hint of sadness in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
You close your locker, surprisingly few students with gym classes actually use them, and turn to her. "You're sorry?" you ask incredulously as you sit down on the bench in front of the lockers, "You told me last night that you were going to have to stop hanging out with me because those bitches were on your case. I didn't even cry that hard when my grandmother died and you know how much I love my grandparents."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, Jenny." she replies as she sits down besides you.<br/>
<br/>
"You know?!" you exclaim as you glare at her and both of you can feel how hurt you are in those words. Then you put your head down and slouch, "Yumi, I stressed myself out to the point where I was getting headaches. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat breakfast this morning and when I went to the nurse's for some aspirin I literally passed out until a few minutes ago." You take a breath before continuing, "You're, or were I guess, my best friend and you just threw it away because of... because of them?!"<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny we're still--look at me." She places her hand under your chin and brings your face up to look at her, "Jenny, we're still best friends. I felt so bad about that too and I realized I can't put the squad--Chelsea--above my friends. And I guess someone got to her because she relented anyway but even if she hadn't I would've told her to screw off."<br/>
<br/>
You hold each other's gaze for a moment and then you feel a smile break out onto your face as you wrap your arms around her for a hug. "You mean it right? If that means no gossip then I don't care; I just want my friend back." you state as you allow yourself to enjoy being pressed up against Yumi.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I mean it." she replies as the two of you separate, "And just to stick it to Chelsea and show her that she can't control things like she wants, you want to eat lunch with us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Us?" you ask simply.<br/>
<br/>
"Me, Lin, Cindy, the twins..." she gives you a smile, "C'mon, you need to break out a bit. You deserve to. It'll be fun."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I really do wonder what could've made her reverse course like that?" Jessica Garner asks as you eat lunch with half of the cheerleading squad. It's yet another instance of you getting something you'd long desired though not quite in the way you'd imagined it. "I mean when she heard <i>you</i> knew about what happened to Kendra... well, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"It's fine." you wave her off, "I shouldn't have blurted anything out since I wound up putting Yumi in a really bad position."<br/>
<br/>
Yumi, for her part, just shrugs. "Well it's my fault too. It would've gotten out one way or another anyway I just happened to have the loose lips." she states.<br/>
<br/>
"Screw that!" Eva, Jessica's twin sister, exclaims. "It wasn't <i>your</i> fault Jenny and it wasn't <i>your</i> fault Yumi." she points to each of you in turn, "If Kendra didn't apparently have some kind of weird exhibitionist fetish or something stuff like this wouldn't happen. It's her fault."<br/>
<br/>
"And Chelsea's." Lin Pol chimes in turning to look at Yumi, "She was just looking for an excuse to put the screws to you. You know it was only going to be a matter of time before she did something to fuck with you."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, I know." Yumi sighs, "And like we've been over she relented anyway so it worked out I guess. Can't say the same for everyone else though." It's a comment that causes you to look at the empty, Cindy-less seat at the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Poor girl." Jessica states solemnly, "I heard she saw Seth in the halls inbetween first and second and just kind of broke down to the point where she got sent home early."<br/>
<br/>
"She's taking it really hard." you state and then realize, in embarrassment, that was kind of an obvious comment. Nobody seems to say anything about it though.<br/>
<br/>
"It was probably Chelsea putting pressure on Gordon to put pressure on Seth." Lin states.<br/>
<br/>
Eva shakes her head, "I don't know. I heard through the grapevine that her and Gordon blew up a bit yesterday." she says knowing that she has everyone's attention, "Something about how he wasn't going to let her push his team around or something."<br/>
<br/>
"He says that once a week." Jessica retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah but what about her relenting on Yumi and Jenny?" Lin asks thinking, "Who'd you hear this from anyway, Eva?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hartlein." comes the reply.<br/>
<br/>
Lin makes a face at that, "Eugh, he's such a gross little stereotype." she retches, "But he's pretty reliable when it comes to gossip. Shit, maybe the basketball team really did grow spines."<br/>
<br/>
And that's when He comes over. Steve Patterson comes waltzing over looking for all the world like a big shot. That's a surprise but what he does next is an even bigger one, "Uh, hey! Jenny right?" he asks as he walks up next to you. You're suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Everyone else is just flat out stunned.<br/>
<br/>
"Y-Yeah...?" you stutter. "Can I, um, can I help you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, so I heard that Chelsea put you through some shit right? I was going to come by and give you a bit of a pick-me-up after hearing that and running into you in Nurse Diesel's office. Ask if you wanted to chill with me for lunch." he looks over and sees Yumi, "But I guess you guys made up huh?"<br/>
<br/>
You look over at Yumi and then back at Patterson. "We did but... oh, what the hell?" you say as you gather your things up.<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny..." Yumi's voice is very stern.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be fine!" you state in a rather chipper manner. As you head off with Patterson you hear a faint commotion from the table but you can't make it out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You really are adjusting well." Patterson states as the pair of you lounge in the loft above the gym. "Sitting with the cheerleaders, being seen walking with Steve Patterson. You're kind of the popular girl right now, no?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." you state plainly, "Because I'm not a girl." You notice Patterson's wry grin and roll your eyes, "You know what I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Well you're going to have to start thinking of yourself as one because you're there until the end of the year." he replies.<br/>
<br/>
"The end of the year?!" you exclaim, "Wait, calender or school?"<br/>
<br/>
"School."<br/>
<br/>
"The school year!" you throw your hands up. "I'm stuck like this until, what, June?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not stuck." Patterson declares, "If you want to switch into someone else you can. Do you?"<br/>
<br/>
No, if someone was going to parade around in Jenny's body and life you'd rather it be you instead of one of these guys so you shake your head. "And what if I wanted my life back? My real one? Would you let me out?"<br/>
<br/>
Patterson thinks hard about that for moment before shrugging, "We'd have to let you out I guess. I dunno, we haven't had anyone yet who's wanted to go back though. The whole purpose is to give people a better life than what they had." He leans back, "And so far is it better than what you had?"<br/>
<br/>
You almost don't want to admit it, that these people could be right, but... "I guess so." you mutter. "But what about the real Jenny? What happens to her?"<br/>
<br/>
"We let her out at the end of the year." he answers bluntly.<br/>
<br/>
"The end of the--so Jenny's losing ten months?!" your voice rises once more.<br/>
<br/>
"We give them the Cliff's Notes version, we're not letting them go back unarmed you know." he states while staring dead ahead and stonefaced, "Young people like us, we move on quick right? Especially when we'll be starting new things like college." He notices you're uncomfortable at that. "Look, if you want to, I dunno, get together after school or something and talk..."<br/>
<br/>
"Get together after school." you cock an eyebrow, "Like... a date."<br/>
<br/>
He seems taken aback. "No, I mean in a platonic--"<br/>
<br/>
"I have a boyfriend." you've resigned yourself that, if you're going to be stuck here, you'll make the best of it. So now here you are, Jenny Ashton, teasing Steve Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a date!" he replies defensively as the bell rings. The both of you get up to leave and you suddenly see a sparkle in his eye. "Look, just meet up with me outside the gym after sixth, okay?" As he walks by you, though, he stops and gives you a small kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you then, <i>Jenny</i>." he winks and you're left blushing furiously... Jenny's influence no doubt.<br/>
<br/>
As you head to class you wonder if you should even go. You'll meet him sure but to tell him thanks but no thanks... right? You still need to get used to things though. You still feel like you need to be filled in. It's probably better to just meet up with him and hang out.</span></div></div>


path: 114
author_id: seuzz
title: Opinions Sought, and Opinions Unwelcome
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So I hear Walberg is having you guys put together a time capsule," Carson Ioeger says the next day at lunch. You're eating on the quad out front of school with him, James Lamont, and your best friend Caleb Johansson. Your other best friend, Keith Tilley, is off behind the school, hiding from the basketball team, several members of which have taken to treating him like an elongated tether ball since the start of school. "What'cha puttin' in it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Give him an electric razor," James suggests. He wrenches a huge bite out of an apple.<br/>
<br/>
"How come?" says Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"I'unno," James mumbles after swallowing. "'Cos it's dumb?"<br/>
<br/>
"You and Lisa doing a joint entry?" Carson asks you. There's a twinkle in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
And it's all you can do from screaming <i>Fuck you!</i> and throwing your lunch in his face. "No, we're not coordinating," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"That's too bad," Carson says. "I guess she's coordinating with Mansfield then."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart skips. After a pause, Caleb says, "Why would she?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson shrugs. "Lisa seems like the kind of girl who's all into joint projects and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"So maybe she's coordinating with Brooke Galloway, or one of her other girlfriends," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Carson says. He rolls onto his back and stares at the sky. "With one of her girlfriends." He presses on the syllable <i>girl.</i><br/>
<br/>
Caleb changes the subject, and you do your best to forget that the topic of Lisa Yarborough ever came up.<br/>
<br/>
But on your way out to the parking lot after school, you catch a glimpse of her. She's standing in front of the drama building with the sun blazing off her cream-white dress and sparkling off the highlights in her raven-dark hair.<br/>
<br/>
Your ex-girlfriend is smiling up into the face of Geoff Mansfield.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you're in a mood when you get home. In fact, you're in the kind of mood where you want to dig and pick and gouge at yourself because it will make you feel even <i>worse.</i> So even though it's Friday and you've the whole weekend ahead, you throw yourself into your homework. You slash your way through a tangle of calculus problems, tearing the paper with your eraser when you have to redo each problem five or six times. You jot down cryptic, meaningless notes about Virgil for English. You slump at your computer and glower your way through a dozen Wikipedia pages, looking for something—anything—interesting to say about the Moon for Astronomy.<br/>
<br/>
You've got most of it done by six-thirty—done though not done well, as even you can tell—when you stomp downstairs for supper. Halfway through the very silent meal, your father clears his throat and says it's nice to have a meal in peace for once. You look up at him from under lowered brows, to find him glaring at you.<br/>
<br/>
Back upstairs after helping to clean up the kitchen, you hurl yourself at your desk with such force it knocks over a pile of papers, and that crazy book you found at Arnholm's bobs to the surface. You blink at it a couple of times, then remember you were going to show it to your dad.<br/>
<br/>
He's in his study, and though he doesn't look happy when you knock at the open door, he doesn't yell at you. "I remembered I wanted to show this to you," you say as you drop the book—which seems heavier than it should be—in front of him. He rubs his forehead, but doesn't say anything. "I found it at the used bookstore yesterday," you continue, "when I went up there after school."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, what's it about?" he says, and lifts the cover. He sniffs at the ornate lettering of the title page. A moment later he lays a finger against one of the faces at the bottom of the page<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. It's in Latin. I, uh, just bought it on a whim. It was only two dollars," you hasten to add.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" He brushes his fingertip over those faces, which like an animated optical illusion are shifting and changing their aspects and expressions.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. It's— Well, try opening it up to the middle." You would be amazed if it did open up to him, so you're not much surprised when it doesn't. Like Ted Arnholm tried yesterday, your dad tries slipping a thumbnail between the pages without success.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a fake," he declares after a moment's examination. He closes it and turns it over and over in his hands, peering at the covers and at the faded gilt that decorates the paper edges. "There'll be a lock mechanism or something hidden in it." He holds the book up so he can peer down the length of the spine. "And a hidden compartment inside. It's something that collectors like to do, sometimes. The way they'll have a sliding panel that looks like a row of books, when it's just a flat piece of wood with a bunch of spines glued to it."<br/>
<br/>
"Like, for hiding a safe or something?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Usually it's for hiding a liquor cabinet. There wouldn't be any liquor in this, though." He shakes the book, then puts it to his ear and shakes it more vigorously. "If there's a hidden compartment, it must be empty. You got it at Arnhom's?" You nod. "What did they have to say about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"They thought it was a regular book. They had it in the special collections cabinet, were charging two hundred dollars for it." You grin as your dad's eyes pop. "Then I showed them you couldn't open it, and they marked it down to two bucks, told me it'd make a great paperweight or something."<br/>
<br/>
"That's bizarre," your dad says. "Not much gets past Ted Arnholm."<br/>
<br/>
"Could you take it in to work, maybe X-ray it?"<br/>
<br/>
He snorts. Then his expression turns thoughtful. "You mind leaving it with me?" he says. "I could give it a closer look over the weekend."<br/>
<br/>
That's fine with you. At the door, as you leave, you turn to apologize for being so sulky at the dinner table. "Forget about it," your dad says. "I'm sorry I said anything." He leans over to glance past you through the open doorway. In a stage whisper he says, "I was mostly glad your <i>brother</i> was behaving."<br/>
<br/>
You grin in embarrassed complicity, and go back upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your weekends ought to be full. They ought to compress a seven-day week of summer vacation into two days.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe they do, because you can't remember what you did over your summer vacation either, and your weekends are shaping up to be just as empty.<br/>
<br/>
Saturday morning, for instance, presents you with the choice of waiting for Caleb to get back from running errands for his mother, or waiting for Keith to get off work at Don's Donuts. Neither kind of wait appeals to you.<br/>
<br/>
So you text Carson. He's not your favorite person—and you're still a little sore at him over what he said Friday at lunch—but he can be fun when he's not trying to have fun at your expense. He calls you back directly. "You're just the man I wanna hear from, Prescott," he honks. "Your backhand still holding up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tennis?" It was the one sport in P.E. that you were semi-proficient in.<br/>
<br/>
"You use it for anything else? Hennepin's looking for someone to play doubles with. I'm willing, but I need to scare up a partner of my own. James can't handle a tennis racket without tripping over it, so you're elected if you're interested."<br/>
<br/>
You are, and an hour later a faded sedan pulls up at your house. Karl Hennepin is driving, with Carson riding shotgun. You get in the back with Braydon Delp and a pile of books. "The fuck are these?" you ask of them.<br/>
<br/>
"Stuff I need to drop off at Arnholm's later," Karl says. "Books I scored over the summer by hitting garage sales."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? I got a book out there yesterday. Or was it Thursday? You'd be into it," you tell Braydon. "It's full of old Latin magic stuff."<br/>
<br/>
But Braydon—who wears a ton of silver, paints his lashes with mascara, and is rather famously into the occult—only sniffs. "Arnholms never has anything good. No one does. The <i>real</i> stuff is all locked away." He looses a heavy sigh, like the kind that Mrs. Epstein used to give at the end of Shelley poems in your junior-year English class.<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate to argue with him, and Carson leaps into the silence with some bitchery or other about how lame Arnholm's science-fiction section is. It's probably just as well. As you eye Braydon's black t-shirt, with its pentagram and its horned goat skull, you reflect that he might be the last person you'd ever want to share something genuinely magical with.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Monday morning.</i> You are in the living room, with one arm tucked through the strap of your backpack while flailing to get the other arm through the other strap, when you remember that you still have to give something to Mr. Walberg for the time capsule. Today's the due date.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> You totally forgot to ask your dad's permission to take his old, busted electric razor in. You briefly consider taking it anyway, then quail as you imagine the consequences.<br/>
<br/>
You're just passing your dad's study on your way back upstairs when you remember that crazy book you picked up at Arnholm's. You peek into the study, and see it's still sitting on your dad's desk. You go in to pick it up, and heft it thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
You bought it with the idea of putting it in the time capsule, and you can do that yet. It's still technically yours, even if your dad wanted to look it over.<br/>
<br/>
Yet, now that you have it back in your hand, you remember the way it opened another page for you. Wouldn't it be great if it turned out to actually <i>be</i> magical? (Yeah, as if.) Anyway, the fact that that page did open up maybe proves it's not a complete fake. Maybe if you took it back up to Arnholm's you could talk Ted Arnholm into buying it back for more than the two dollars he sold it to you for.</span></div></div>


path: 1141
author_id: seuzz
title: The Hot Potato
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're going to be late, dammit, if you don't get a move on, and you need something <i>now</i> for the time capsule. You bought that dumb book for a reason, so you might as well make use of it.<br/>
<br/>
But you're not happy with your decision. Maybe it's because you're practically <i>stealing</i> the book off your dad's desk, and interfering with his shit always terrifies you. Maybe it's because you know it's a shitty choice for the time capsule. And maybe you're just pissed at yourself for waiting so long to find a thing for class that you've basically cornered yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever. On the drive up to school you choose to get mad at your teacher. <i>Fucking Walberg.</i> The capsule isn't even supposed to be buried until Friday, but he's making you bring the stuff in on Monday? That doesn't even fucking make sense!<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Fuck, Prescott, you shot in here like you wanted to run someone over!"<br/>
<br/>
You wheel at the words, then relax when you see that it's only Carson Ioeger, sauntering toward you through the student parking lot. He peers down his nose at you. "What were you driving mad for?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't driving mad, I was just worried I was gonna be late."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit. You got fifteen minutes to the bell."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "Alright, fine, I'm just ticked off. Okay?" You turn toward the school.<br/>
<br/>
"You're allowed," Carson drawls as he steps up beside you. "It's Monday, anyone who isn't pissed off on a Monday is— What's that?" He chucks his chin at you.<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to realize he's asking about that crazy book, which you're clutching in your left hand. "Oh. Thing for Walberg."<br/>
<br/>
"Reading?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, for the time capsule."<br/>
<br/>
"What is it, a copy of <i>The Wizard of Oz?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" The specificity of the question stops you in your tracks. "No, it's— Why do you think it's a copy of—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think anything about it, Prescott," he sniffs, and starts walking again.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fucking Ioeger. Always acting like he's smarter than everyone else. Always acting like he's smarter than </i>you!<br/>
<br/>
Which he is. But that still doesn't give him a right to act like it.<br/>
<br/>
So why are you always trying to impress him instead of telling him to fuck off? You hurry after him.<br/>
<br/>
"I found it in the used book store," you say. "You know, Arnholm's? Anyway, it's a funky thing—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Ioeger!"<br/>
<br/>
You look over. Two kids are getting out of a nearby car. The short, blonde one has his hand up to hail your friend, while the other—a much taller Asian-American kid—flashes a very white grin in your direction. You recognize them from Saturday, when you and Carson ran into them at the tennis courts.<br/>
<br/>
A light sweat breaks out all over you. It will be very embarrassing if you can't remember their names. <br/>
<br/>
And while you're struggling to place them, they saunter up and inquire as to how Carson's morning is going.<br/>
<br/>
"Suckitude risesth like thunder with the Monday dawn," he informs them. This reply—<i>where does he get them from?</i>—is only the start of your confusion as you all walk and talk toward the school building.<br/>
<br/>
Blonde kid: "So I noticed you sneaked off with Genesis the other night."<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "I didn't sneak off."<br/>
<br/>
Asian-American kid: "Brazen!"<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "Fuck you, I was sick of the scene. Where does Colson find that kind of shit like he was playing?"<br/>
<br/>
Blonde: "You didn't go off with her?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "No, I was—"<br/>
<br/>
Asian: "She was into you, man, she was, like, <i>hanging</i> on everything you said."<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "Yeah, I'm a fascinating guy."<br/>
<br/>
Blonde: "So why didn't you go off with—?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "'Cos I wasn't into her!"<br/>
<br/>
Asian: "Don't be an asshole, man."<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "How am I being an asshole if—?"<br/>
<br/>
Blonde: "What's wrong with Genesis?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "Nothing's wrong with Genesis! Look, shut up! I'm just not into girls who subsist on marshmallows."<br/>
<br/>
Asian: "When was she eating marshmallows?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "Only like every day, five meals a day, she looks like."<br/>
<br/>
Asian: "Fuck you, Ioeger, Genesis is one of my best friends."<br/>
<br/>
Carson: "Pfah! Anyway, if you douchebags wanna set me up with someone, why didn't you have my back when I was putting the moves on Sophie?"<br/>
<br/>
Asian: "'Cos she's with Terry, man. Didn't you get that?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson stops in his tracks. "It looked to me like they went all night without even glancing at each other."<br/>
<br/>
The blonde kid shrugs and says, "Yeah, well," and the Asian kid sniffs, "Hurt feelings. Which doesn't excuse you from trying to get between them."<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, how was I getting fucking in between them if they weren't even looking at each other?" <br/>
<br/>
Then he gives you a glowering double-take. "What are you still doing here, Prescott?" he honks.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, leave Will alone," says the Asian kid. He turns a smile on you that's halfway between a grin and smirk. "Why weren't <i>you</i> at Terry's party Saturday night? Lotta girls could'a been into <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Girls?</i> Into <i>you?</i> At a party that <i>no one invited you to?</i> "I, uh, didn't know there was, uh—" You glare at Carson.<br/>
<br/>
He glowers back, then grabs that book from your hand. "What's this thing you had such a boner about showing me, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!"<br/>
<br/>
The Asian kid laughs. "I'll catch you around later, man," he tells the red-faced Carson. "Text me if you wanna do a set after school some time." He winks at you—<i>what the hell?</i>—and saunters off. The blonde kid gives you and Carson an amused look, then wanders off after his friend.<br/>
<br/>
Carson ignores them as he examines the book. "The fuck is wrong with this thing?" he mutters as he tries opening it.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you fucking care?" You grab at it, but he yanks it away.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanted to tell me about it, so fucking tell me about it!"<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me about this fucking party the other night and how come I wasn't there!"<br/>
<br/>
"You weren't there 'cos—!" He catches himself.<br/>
<br/>
"It was just a bullshit party, Will," he says. "Just a lot of frustration. And I didn't tell you 'cos I didn't know I was going until after we dropped you back off at your house. Sean texted me about it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sean!</i> That's the name of the blonde kid, you now remember. And ... <i> Jack!</i> Jack Li, you remember that much because you thought "Bruce Lee" after the introductions.<br/>
<br/>
Jesus, you must have a bad memory for names if you can't remember "Chinese-American --&gt; Bruce Lee --&gt; Jack Li." And you can't even remember Sean's last name, or if he even gave it to you.<br/>
<br/>
And while you're reflecting on all this, Carson is still examining that book. "What's the deal here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, it's a fake book. That's what my dad says. He says there's a spring lock or something, and if you press it it'll open up a secret compartment."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds cool, where's the button?" He fiddles with the book, turning it over and over.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why are you bringing it in? For show and tell or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"For Walberg's class, for the time capsule. Our items are due today." You tell him about finding the book at Arnholm's, and how it was originally two hundred dollars but you got it for two.<br/>
<br/>
As you speak, Carson starts to frown in a way that you recognize. He's getting an idea. After chewing his lip for a solid minute, he says, "How'd you like to make twenty bucks off this thing <i>and</i> get Seth Javits in a shitload of trouble?"<br/>
<br/>
Seth Javits is a basketball player, and one of Westside High's many—<i>many!</i>—swaggering bullies. He particularly has it in for Keith Tilley, one of your best friends. But he and the other basketball players—Gordon Black and Steve Patterson, particularly—have a special enmity going with Carson and his friend James, who regularly come up with schemes to torment them. "What's the plan?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Ain't got time to explain now," he says. "But I'd buy it off you. Or rent it, give it back. For twenty bucks."<br/>
<br/>
It's almost time for the bell, and you have Mr. Walberg first period, so you temporize. "I'd have to think about it," you say as you pluck the book back from him. "I gotta get to my locker before the bell rings." <br/>
<br/>
Carson only grunts in reply, so maybe he's not that invested in his own idea.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your friend Caleb has Walberg too, and he eyes the book as you slide into the desk next to him. "What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"For the time capsule."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. At least you remembered to bring something."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. "You didn't? I thought you were bringing in—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I brought it." He grins. "But Dorothy forgot hers." He looks past you toward the front of the room. You turn around to see what he's looking at.<br/>
<br/>
Dorothy Harmon is slumped in her desk with her arms crossed. She looks like she's about to burst into tears.<br/>
<br/>
You've never really dealt with Dorothy, and you don't know why you have the sudden inspiration to act chivalrously with her. Maybe you're still thinking of Jack's (sincere?) jibe: <i>Lotta girls could'a been into you.</i>"</span></div></div>


path: 11412
author_id: rugal
title: A Friendly Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Perhaps that really is what motivates you as you head over to the empty desk that's in front of her. "Hey," you say as you sit down in the unoccupied seat and turn around. She looks up at you and her expression seems to be one of mild surprise. "You alright?" you ask as you reach into your bag and grab hold of the book.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Yeah, I'm good," she answers in a voice that comes out as a soft, lazy drawl. "Are <i>you</i> alright? You're usually on the other side of the room."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah, but you looked pretty down so I just thought, I dunno, I'd see what was going on," you say as you remove the book. Dorothy seems to spot it as her eyes focus in that direction. She doesn't need to say anything for you to get what she's probably thinking. "Uh, I was going to give this to you," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes dart back to you, studying you. "How come?" she asks and that throws you off guard a bit. You do manage to largely remain composed though.<br/>
<br/>
"When I said you looked down my friend was all like 'yeah, she forgot to bring something in for the time capsule'. I kind of had this lying around so I figured I'd do the good thing, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
You hand her the book and she looks it over for a moment and to your surprise hands it back to you. "I appreciate it but I didn't forget anything. I turned that in like a week ago. Just kind of bullshitted something, ya know?" she says to your even greater surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean if your buddy said something then he probably heard me muttering or whatever," she says. "I just owe some money to one of my friends. Had it on the dresser and forgot to grab it before I left," she shrugs. "Beth's, like, the only person willing to let me borrow a few bucks so I felt bad about it."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes, seemingly distant and looking past you, light up as she looks at you a bit playfully as she leans forward. "You were worried about me though. That's really cute," she says with amusement.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, well I mean I guess-- uh, because I didn't want..." is all you can uselessly sputter out.<br/>
<br/>
Dorothy's mouth turns into the slightest smirk as she leans forward and grabs the book. You suddenly feel very hot as her hand envelops your own in the process. "Hey so like, what's the deal with the book though?" she asks as her eyes move back towards it. "It's pretty gnarly looking. Is that what you were giving to Walberg?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, uh no not really," you lie. "I mean I guess I was thinking about it but not seriously or anything."<br/>
<br/>
"It looks really old," she drawls and then looks back up to look you right in the eyes. "It'd be kind of a shame to just throw it into the ground right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you into old stuff?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess antiques are kinda neat. That's more my dad and sister's thing though," she says. "So, like, have you looked at it? Does it say anything cool?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, only the first page. I just kind of grabbed it for cheap but didn't get a chance to look at it," you tell her. Another lie but you'll be damned if you're going to tell a girl that you were scared off by the very first page.<br/>
<br/>
Without warning she pulls your hand off of the book and grabs it herself. She opens it up and looks at the title page. Her face scrunches up as she looks it over. She tries to turn it but is unable to and quickly closes it. "I think you're book's broken," she says as she hands it back to you. "What was up with all of that?" she asks. "It's so weird."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah, I don't know myself," you admit. "That title page was in Latin though saying something like 'claim me with blood' and then there was that weird thumbprint."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm," is all Dorothy says before something seems to grab her attention. "Hey, I just saw Mansfield coming in and you're in his seat so, you know..."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't have to say anything more. You push yourself and dart to your desk shooting past Geoff Mansfield -- who eyes you with barely disguised bemusement -- on your way.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So yeah, you were wrong," you tell Caleb as the two of you walk out of Walberg's classroom. You'd just gotten done telling him what Dorothy had relayed to you before class started.<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft, whatever," he replies dismissively. "Pretty fucking melodramatic for, I don't know, twenty bucks or whatever it is she borrowed."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe she's a nice person and a good friend."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb chortles at that. "Oh yeah, she's definitely a good friend," he says with amusement. "A <i>real</i> good friend."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? What's that supposed to mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"It means... oh man, do you not know about--"<br/>
<br/>
"About what?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you grinning like an idiot and you want to just shove him and march off but you fight the urge as he talks. "Well, it's not important," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Will," Dorothy's voice lazily calls out from behind you. Quickly you feel arms wrap around your own and you stiffen up just a little in both meanings of the term.<br/>
<br/>
"Speak of the devil," Caleb mutters.<br/>
<br/>
You ignore it and it doesn't even seem to register with Dorothy as she continues talking. "So like that book? You said it was Latin right?" she asks. "If you want to translate it or something maybe you could stop by my place after school? Leigh or my dad's probably got some stuff that could help you out with that you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I appreciate the author but I wouldn't, you know, want to impose or anything."<br/>
<br/>
At that Dorothy giggles just a little. "I wouldn't mind you know, it's not a big deal," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure you've probably got things you're doing after school," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Just hanging out with some friends," she replies and you feel her grip tighten. "You should hang out too if you're not doing anything. We don't really get to talk all that much and, like, I only ever see you with this guy in class."<br/>
<br/>
Have you ever really talked with Dorothy before? You only know her from seeing her in class and you can't really think of any other time you have. And going to her place or hanging out with her and her friends? You gulp a bit at that. She seems to notice your reluctance as well and quickly works to try to ease things for you and maybe let you down a bit gently.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean if you've got some other things you have to do after school then that's fine. It's like an open invitation though so if you ever want to hang out with me and my friends, ya know, we can do that whenever," she says. "Oh, the book too. You can, like, give it to me if you want. I'll look around at home and find some stuff for you."<br/>
<br/>
"That's really nice Dorothy," you say, "but I don't know why you'd go out of your way for me like that."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, 'cause I want to? It seems pretty cool so, like, why not?" she says. "Anyway I don't think we have any other classes together right? What lunch do you have?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fifth."<br/>
<br/>
"That's no good either," she states. "Okay, well, if you want to do anything just hang out by the front entrance and we'll meet up. I'll see ya then, maybe."<br/>
<br/>
You watch as she scampers off through the crowd of students and then yelp at a sharp pain in your side. At first you think it's one of this crowd but realize quickly that it's Caleb as you see him grinning. "The fuck was that for?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, you're not blind right?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dorothy was practically begging you to get with her after school you dipshit," he answers. "Like come on, I know you're dumb but you're not so dumb you'd miss that right? You'd be a real dumbass to pass up an invitation from her anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Why's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh lord, you really don't know?!" Caleb howls. "Listen, Dorothy's got a reputation for being pretty easy. She'd probably make you forget about Lisa which would make dealing with you a hell of a lot easier for me."<br/>
<br/>
That leaves you gobsmacked. You don't really pay attention to a lot of the scuttlebutt so you actually weren't aware that Dorothy had a reputation like that. It makes you even more nervous then because if she was grabbing you like that... You can't help but to wonder if something would happen if you went to her place. That makes you nervous but also very excited.<br/>
<br/>
Which means it'd probably be a good idea to just give her the book let her find stuff to make translating the book (as you'd decided against putting it in the time capsule) easier or even just take it off of your hands entirely.<br/>
<br/>
But your mind drifts to that offer to hang out with Dorothy and some of her friends after school. Then it drifts back to the conversation in the parking lot. Carson hanging out with Sean and Jack and others at this party -- that you totally were not invited to -- and putting the moves on some girls; having some girls into him. It's getting you annoyed just thinking about it again. It's not really fair that even someone like him seems to be able to have this fulfilling social life while you're... well, like Dorothy said you're usually only hanging out with Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe this invitation is just the kind of thing you need. Who cares about the book when you could go off with her for the afternoon. Chill it with some guys -- would there be guys -- maybe see what could happen with Dorothy or some of her girl friends (Jack did say a lot of girls could be into you after all). You don't know what kind of people she hangs out with but doing something new could prove to be pretty fun and, hopefully, rewarding.</span></div></div>


path: 114121
author_id: rugal
title: The Guarded Ones
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's something you grapple with for most of the rest of the day. Being invited out by a girl to hang out with her and her friends? And a girl you've only ever seen in class at that? Why did she seem so interested in having you hang out with her anyway? Was it because you tried to help her out? Is it like Caleb said? Is she an easy girl who sees you as an easy guy to fool around with? And what about the book? She seemed interested in it but now that you think about it that might just have been an excuse. An excuse to do what though?<br/>
<br/>
It's not until lunch when you bring it up that you finally find some kind of firm footing. You bring it up to your friends while eating and it's to your surprise there's only a minimal amount of needling. So you wonder to them if you should hang out with her and you ask them if they know anything about her.<br/>
<br/>
"Dorothy huh?" Carson muses with a laugh. "Yeah she's," he pauses when he catches a sharp glare from Jenny, "a nice girl. Friendly... or so I've heard anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, <i>reeeaaal</i> friendly," Keith snorts. "Best part is you ain't even gotta pay her extra to get the friendly benefits."<br/>
<br/>
"What would you know about that?" asks James.<br/>
<br/>
"Man I mean I ain't sayin' I've <i>done</i> anything ya know? But I hear things." Keith's grin grows into a leer. "An' I mean guys can say what they want but she's cute enough an' if I had the chance I'd totally..." However he stops and lets out a sharp yelp when he receives a kick under the table. "The hell was that for Ashton?"<br/>
<br/>
"For being a creep," Jenny says as she makes a face.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck? You an' her buddies?" Keith asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No," she answers sharply, "but that doesn't mean I want to sit here and listen to your jerkoff fantasies." She turns her attention to you. "If you want my advice, do whatever you want and if you're asking us what to do it's probably because you want to do it in the first place. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe, I don't really--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't listen to what some yahoos have to say about anything. If she has a history then so what? It's not like it makes her a bad person or anything no matter how much these clowns want to scare you off."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I was the one who told him he was being an idiot for not picking up on the obvious fucking hints," Caleb protests.<br/>
<br/>
But you drown things out mentally until conversation shifts to another topic because Jenny's right. Why bring it up and fret over it so much if you didn't want to do anything? However you still feel some reluctance and you're not sure if it's Dorothy's apparent reputation or just being alone with a girl in general that's making you jittery. So you decide the best course of action is to give her the book as a first step, tell her to look at it and then maybe tomorrow you'll have a clearer picture of what to do.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
When the bell for last period sounds you rush out of class and towards the front of the school near the student parking lot and stand around and wait. It's a few minutes of watching the other students filter out and make their way towards their cars before you spot Dorothy. You raise your hand and wave it a bit to catch her attention.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you made it!" she greets you cheerily as she grasps you by the arm. "So you wanna head back to my place to look at that book or...?"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually," you say as you take off your backpack and place it on the ground, "I figured I'd just give it to you to look at for today. You know, I don't want to impose or anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, well, I'm still gonna need a ride you know," she says. "No car or anything so I have to grab rides when I can."<br/>
<br/>
You had been getting ready to unzip your backpack but stop to look back up at her. "I thought you were going to hang out with your friends or something?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah I was, wasn't it?" she returns the question and smiles. "So like I'm not saying you have to but we were gonna grab something to eat at Balducci's and like I could <i>really</i> use a ride out there and if you want you can, like, join us for some grub. You know as thanks for the ride or whatever. If you want to of course, no pressure."<br/>
<br/>
Though she says that you feel as if the "invitation" is more of a request and you remember what Caleb said earlier, about the way she was acting this morning. Maybe she really does want to "reward" you for being nice to her in first period. So feeling as if you can't really say no you at least pacify Dorothy by offering her a ride and telling her you'll think about joining them.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You end up at Balducci's with Dorothy as well as Rachel Bell and Audrey Briscoe, two girls you vaguely recognize from your English class. You decide to join them after all though being there with three other girls you find it yourself nervous and self-conscious, unable to find the words to really join in the conversation. Though neither does Rachel it seems as she too seems quieter though both Audrey and Dorothy, in their own ways, make enough conversation to seemingly cover for both of your relative silence.<br/>
<br/>
Which is why you sit there in an uncomfortable silence when the both of them get up together to use the bathroom leaving you alone with Rachel. It's awkward and you're not really sure what to say. She's a girl with a prominent nose though a nice face otherwise and straight chocolate hair that hangs down to her shoulders. She dresses in a manner that's unpretentious, a simple women's t-shirt with some kind of design on it and jeans. She's certainly not bad looking though you flinch when she finally looks up from her phone at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?" she asks in a fairly neutral tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! Sorry I wasn't, uh, trying to stare at you or anything," you say defensively. "I just thought you looked familiar. You have Gladstone fourth period right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," she answers simply.<br/>
<br/>
"Cool, uh, I don't think I've seen you in my other classes though What do you have?"<br/>
<br/>
She simply shrugs. "CAD-Architecture, AP Physics II, AP Computer Science. Stuff like that. Nothing too exciting I guess."<br/>
<br/>
Nothing too exciting? Hell she basically smokes you. "That's pretty impressive," you say sincerely. "Uh, AP Physics though? When do you have that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eighth."<br/>
<br/>
"Damn, I have astronomy and that's--PFFT!" you reply. "I've got a few friends who have that class though. You know Caleb, or Carson or James?"<br/>
<br/>
"A little I guess. I see them in class." She studies you for a moment. "What'd you say your name was?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, I thought Dorothy introduced me but I'm Will. I, uh, know her from first period."<br/>
<br/>
"I see," she says. "I'm Rachel by the way."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, yeah, I think she said that when I walked in," you state. "Uh so I guess what do you do? When you're not hanging out with Dorothy I mean. You into like programming or something?"<br/>
<br/>
She winces at that. "A little I guess but I don't know," she mutters. "I kind of use my computer to play games more than to hack or whatever."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! Uh, so what do you play?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
This gets you started on a conversation, though really you do more talking than she does and her answers tend to be a little terse, on the types of games you both play which turns into talking about other hobbies and you find that there's a surprising amount of overlap by the time Dorothy and Audrey return. You feel a little more comfortable once they do though they still do the majority of the talking. By the time you're ready to go you pull out the book to hand it to Dorothy telling her to take a look at it if she's interested because you were going to unload it anyway.<br/>
<br/>
That causes Audrey to raise an eyebrow. "Hey, you were still looking for something for that project right? Weren't you worried about Walberg bitching to your dad?"<br/>
<br/>
For the first time you see Dorothy's expression drop and she casts a glance at her friend before turning back to you. "Yeah, sure I'll take a look at it," she says and her expression returns to normal as she says it. "If there's something cool with it I'll let you know, 'kay?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At home that evening your dad surprises you by asking for the book back and is disappointed when you tell him it's gone. You twist the truth a bit with a story about giving it to a girl in first period who needed something for the time capsule project because she'd left her's at home and though he lectures you he seems to be at least mildly approving of you trying to help out someone in a bind.<br/>
<br/>
At school the next day things go through as normal. You tell your friends that nothing really happened with Dorothy (and Keith seems disappointed). In fact you see Dorothy hand something to Walberg and when class lets out she admits to you that she did forget it but didn't want to admit it. She also said her dad gave her a nice scolding so she needs to work on her paper first so no hanging out today. Instead she says she'll tell you when she's free.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb ropes you into helping him stake out Walberg's classroom after school to switch out what he put in but Walberg only leaves once and Dane's presence deters him so he asks you to help him tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing much changes on Wednesday until fourth period lets out. To your surprise Rachel approaches as you stand up. You'd exchanged greetings with her yesterday but nothing more. However she looks more relaxed and her expression is brighter. "Hey Will, things going good?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"More or less," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"That's good to hear. Hey so Monday, right? I enjoyed talking to you.and I guess, you know, having a day to think about it I was wondering if maybe you'd be interested in hanging out after school," she says. "Just the two of us."</span></div></div>


path: 1141212
author_id: rugal
title: The One Where You Hang Out With Rachel
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You have to keep your jaw from dropping and making you look like a complete fool. Rachel wants to go somewhere after school... with <i>you</i>? Well you did like the conversation, as much as you could call it that, on Monday and as you look at her she really isn't that bad looking. Her posture is less guarded and more relaxed, the look of bored disinterest replaced by a friendly smile showing white teeth that contrast to what you presume are the remnants of a summer tan.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb had wanted you to help him but... he'd understand, right?<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you respond. "Hanging out together would be nice but, uh, just the two of us? Really? What about your friends?"<br/>
<br/>
She shifts a bit and nervously bites her lip. "I mean... hmm... well, no," Rachel says. "It was easier to talk when it was just us right? Audrey and, um, Dorothy kind of dominate the conversation don't they?" she adds with a giggle.<br/>
<br/>
"But if it was just the two of us wouldn't that imply, uh..."<br/>
<br/>
"What? you mean like," her eyes widen, "a date? Well, but it's not right? We'd just be hanging out. It's not like I know you well enough to just go on a date."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," you respond nervously. "So where do you want to hang out at anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, gee, um, you know I hadn't thought about it, haha!" she answers with seemingly equal nerves. "Let's just meet out front by the parking lot and figure something out, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay," you you say positively. She smiles and gives a positive response but as she starts to leave you grab her attention one more time. "So do you want to, I don't know, hang out together for lunch or something?"<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" she exclaims. "Um, sorry but maybe we should get to know each other a little better first before we, uh, start intermingling our social groups? But I will <i>definitely</i> see you this afternoon! Seeya!"<br/>
<br/>
With that she turns and walks out of the room while you want to sink into the floor. Of course you had to go and make things awkward at the last minute and with a few hours left in the day and hanging out with her friends, if she even says anything to them, you wonder if she might change her mind. You hope note though because you're actually excited. The only issue will be Caleb but, well, if the positions were reversed he'd do the same thing right? Yeah, he'll totally understand. He has to.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I really don't understand, Will," Caleb complains. You're sitting with him in the grassy quad in front the school for lunch and he isn't overly happy with what you've told him.<br/>
<br/>
"What don't you understand?" asks James as he and Carson come to join you. They tell you that Jenny will be by in a few minutes while you tell them that Keith probably got spooked by Javits.<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe he got spooked by Ashton after yesterday," Carson laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway," you start, "Caleb's made 'cause I'm bailing on helping him out with something to hang out with someone else after school today."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? Who with?" asks Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"Rachel Bell. I think you guys have her in eighth."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," James nods. "That's surprising though. I had to partner with her on something in class once and she wasn't the most outgoing. I barely got more than five words out of her."<br/>
<br/>
All you can do is shrug. "I dunno, we talked for a bit when I was hanging out with Dorothy on Monday," you explain. "Then today she comes up to me after fourth lets out and asks to hang out so I figured why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Johansson, man," Carson turns to Caleb. "Will's got a date and you're seriously gonna be pissy about that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a date," you quietly interject. So quietly, it seems, that it's skipped over.<br/>
<br/>
"The hell d'ya need help with anyhow?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's the time capsule," Caleb admits. "I gave Walberg a thumb drive as a joke but was going to swap it out with something else. Was gonna write my paper on the second item."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of plan is that?" asks James. "What'd you even have on a thumbdrive anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is silent for a moment as he clearly doesn't want to answer but eventually wilts. "Porn," he quietly admits which sends both Carson and James into hysterics.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh man, for real!?" Carson whoops. "The hell do you need it back so bad for then? Don't tell me you put <i>all</i> your porn on there something. Hell, who even downloads porn now anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course I didn't put it all on there!" exclaims Caleb. "I'm worried about him digging it up and finding out what's on there."<br/>
<br/>
James cocks an eyebrow. "How would he find out? It's not like he's going to take home and pop in a random thumb drive," he says. "Just write about whatever. Not like he'd know the difference. Why'd you need Will's help anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
"He needed me to play lookout for him for whenever Walberg left," you explain. "Except it was pointless because Dane was there with detention so Caleb chickened out."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you'd probably need two people to help you, right?" asks James. "One to play lookout, the other to distract Dane."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah and with this guy," Caleb says as he jerks a thumb towards you, "abandoning me it looks like I've got open spots."<br/>
<br/>
"I never actually promised I'd help," you say defensively.<br/>
<br/>
"And <i>we</i> would definitely love to," says Carson, "but me and James have our own stuff to do after school. So looks like you're shit outta luck, buddy."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb can really do nothing at this point beyond mutter and grumble impotently and soon talk turns to other things. However you continue to be anxious. You know that Carson is just joshing and you know that Rachel said it was just hanging out but you still can't help but to feel excited all the same. Even if you think back to that moment at the end of class and want to bury yourself with Walberg's dumb time capsult.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As it turns out, however, you don't have much of anything to worry about. Rachel meets you at the front of the school and you take a few minutes as she follows you to your truck to discuss where it is you want to go. Eventually, before she separates towards her car, you settle on heading up to Monte Viso, a general hangout spot with mini golf and go-karts though really you're there to hang around in the arcade and pump tokens into games made likely before you were even born.<br/>
<br/>
As it's a weekday afternoon there's not many other people around so the two of you are able to freely talk and get caught up with one another. She tells you about her classes and you tell her about your own. You talk about your friends and she mentions her's. When you inquire about Dorothy specifically she relates a story about how they shared a class last year, Rachel gave her some help and they just started hanging out not long after. It surprises you that they'd share a class at all but Rachel's pretty sharp in rebuking you.<br/>
<br/>
"Dorothy is how she is," she shrugs. "I mean she likes, you know, marijuana and all and I know how she <i>comes</i> off but..." She pauses and fidgets a bit. "But she's not stupid or anything. She's just kind of a lazy student I guess."<br/>
<br/>
From there that leads to talk about how Dorothy has another subset of friends that Rachel doesn't regularly interact with. You don't recognize all of them but the ones you do, like Jordana Trujillo who you also share fourth with, are enough to give you a general idea and you're not at all surprised that Rachel doesn't hang out much with them.<br/>
<br/>
Overall you spend about an hour hanging out and you find yourself enjoying it. She seems a lot looser compared to how she was on Monday which is something you bring up after you decide to grab something to eat at Panera.<br/>
<br/>
"You can tell, huh?" she says as she takes a sip of soup. "Well, I guess I can just be kind of, I guess, shy? Especially in unfamiliar situations or around people I don't know." She grimaces a bit. "I guess it makes me come off as kind of aloof doesn't it? Audrey and Mindy say that all the time."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I can see how that can cause problems," you admit. "But there's not really anything you can do about it and, uh, you seem to be able to open up pretty well."<br/>
<br/>
"Well I guess that's because you're kind of easy to get along with," she replies and gives you a small smile. "Usually guys hear about the classes I'm taking and it's like it's so weird that a girl is taking those classes or <i>whatever</i>." She rolls her eyes at that. "I mean I guess I'm kind of smart but it's not like I'm the only smart girl around. Hell, I'm not even the only smart girl in school."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," you shrug, "I was surprised but I guess that's because my own classes aren't so hot. I'm more surprised you've got classes with some of my friends than anything else. They've never really mentioned you."<br/>
<br/>
The two of you continue to talk and eat before deciding to go your separate ways for the evening. Out in the parking lot you head over to your respective vehicles, conveniently parked next to one another, and get ready to say your goodbyes when Rachel grabs your wrist. She looks at you and you think you can almost see faint hints of red on her cheeks.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you know, this was pretty fun and I said you were easy to get along with right? And your friends, you said they kind of joked about this being a date?" She fidgets nervously quite a bit. "Well I know this was just hanging out and all but, uh, what about a real one? A date that is. Like maybe going to see a movie tomorrow evening?"</span></div></div>


path: 11412121
author_id: rugal
title: Dates That Go and Come
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're not sure how many times this week you've found yourself thrown completely for a loop but once more you're left stunned. Rachel wants a date, an actual date with movies and popcorn and all of that, with <i>you</i>? Well you'd be an incredibly stupid person to look this gift horse in the mouth wouldn't you? So for once you don't even hesitate in your agreement to the idea. "Yeah," you say though still in a bit of a stupor, "a date tomorrow sounds good."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool! Okay then!" Rachel exclaims. "Then it's... a date, I guess!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you say nervously. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right, yeah," she replies. "Um, I'll see you after school?"<br/>
<br/>
As things have been going well however you decide to try again and make up for your embarrassment from earlier today. "Well sure but how about we eat lunch together tomorrow?" you suggest. "I can eat with your friends or you can eat with my friends or, you know, we can eat just the two of us."<br/>
<br/>
Rachel seems a bit taken aback by that however. "Well, I'm not against it really," she states and your heart sinks a bit, "but maybe we should wait until after we see how that movie goes. You know, if it goes well then, like, we can do that."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean you know how it'll probably look to people right? If we start eating lunch together without having ever really talked before?" she asks. "They'll probably start talking about how we're, you know, dating and stuff. And I had fun today but we're not yet, right? But if tomorrow goes well, then..."<br/>
<br/>
She lets the thought hang there and you don't have to be a genius to get what she's implying. Tomorrow's date is going basically make or break your status with her and obviously you want it to go well. So you decide that it's best to not press the issue and agree once more to meet up with her after school. She's happy with that and the two of you then part but not before she gives you a friendly hug which causes you to melt just a bit.<br/>
<br/>
You're definitely feeling on top of the world throughout the rest of the night and into the next day and you can hardly contain your excitement. Even Dorothy pulls you aside when you come in to class the next day and though you can't read her expression she says that she heard from Rachel and wishes you luck. It feels like nothing can get you down.<br/>
<br/>
That is until the end of fourth period when Rachel stops you on the way out.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," she says quietly. "I know what we... agreed to yesterday. But something came up. Family stuff. I won't be able to make it out today, sorry."<br/>
<br/>
You're left stunned and confused and can do nothing but watch her exit the classroom and disappear into the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You ask me," Keith says as he muches on chips, "you got played big time."<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting out in the quad with your usual group as you eat lunch. "The hell is that supposed to mean?" you ask him. "She's the one who invited me to hang out yesterday and <i>she's</i> the one who suggested we go see a movie."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah and she's the one who told you it ain't happening." Keith looks at you and shakes his head. "Face it, ya got played. She was just playin' a joke on you ya know. Settin' you up just to fuck witchya."<br/>
<br/>
"Tilley you're full of shit," Jenny, who's managed to join you today, retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know, Ashton?" Keith shoots back. "You her friend or somethin'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really and that's got nothing to do with anything anyway. Just because you," she says and points at him for emphasis, "can't get a date doesn't mean your friends can't. Or that every girl's just playing around with other guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? A'ight then Ashton," he shoots back, "why don't <i>you</i> date Will then?"<br/>
<br/>
"The hell are you doing!?" you ask him. "She's not interested in that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm not interested in any of you fuckers!" she adds.<br/>
<br/>
"What'd I do?" asks James.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing!" Jenny responds in a huff.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean it is what it is right?" Carson jumps in. "If things came up then it's not like there's anything anyone can do about it."<br/>
<br/>
"If she's telling the truth," Caleb says and you can basically hear the smirk in his voice. "What? I'm not saying she did but <i>if</i> she did would it really be a surprise? I mean it's this guy and all."<br/>
<br/>
"Gee thanks," you say as you slouch.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need to be an asshole about it," says Jenny.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you defendin' him so hard for Ashton? Maybe you really do wanna..."<br/>
<br/>
But Keith is stopped by Jenny glaring at him. Hard. She says nothing; she doesn't need to. Her look says it all and after a moment you watch as he slowly starts to back down.<br/>
<br/>
"Right, yeah, whatever. I ain't sayin' nothin'," he finally says. It's like a dog who's gone to the bathroom in the house and knows it's done something bad.<br/>
<br/>
"Look," James finally says to you, "just don't worry about it. Give it a day or two and maybe it'll work itself out."<br/>
<br/>
"You really think that?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean maybe she'll try and make it up or maybe she won't," he shrugs. "Either way that'd be working itself out right?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
What you thought was going to be a date for today ends up with you doing much the same thing you do most days. You spend time after school with Caleb and Keith and the rest of the night at home. You're only thankful that you hadn't mentioned anything to your parents previously about a date so they don't say anything about it to you. You don't really think you could deal with the agony of not only having your date canceled but then having your parents grill you about what happened while your mom heaps sympathy. It'd only make you feel worse despite the intentions.<br/>
<br/>
You want to put it out of your mind and just push through Friday as normal with a "whatever happens happens" mindset and hope that the weekend will give you ample time to put any of it behind you. But it seems like the universe wants you to keep thinking about it because when you open your locker when you get to school to grab some books there's a note in there too. You pull it out and notice that it's handwritten and it definitely looks like a girl's. The message though is very direct.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Saw you yesterday and thought you looked cute. Want to meet? Getting lunch at Panera on Saturday. Maybe I'll see you there. <img alt="*Heart*" border="0" class="emoteZ" height="15" loading="lazy" src="https://images2.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/e21/heart.png" style="" title="Heart" width="15"/></i><br/>
<br/>
You take the note and show it to Caleb asking him what it is. Caleb, of course, isn't the most helpful person around and seems to focus more attention on snarking at you than offering any real advice. Even when you ask him if he thinks it's real he can do nothing but shrug. Could it be from Rachel? Again however he's no help at all so you're left feeling frustrated by the time you roll into Walberg's class.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Will," Dorothy says lazily as she strolls up to you just after you've sat down. "You doing good?"<br/>
<br/>
You look over at Caleb who pointedly ignores you in favor of his phone so you're forced to turn back to her. "Yeah," you say, "I'm doing fine."<br/>
<br/>
But you can tell from her expression that she seems to pick up on the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. "Mmm, yeah, well I just wanted to check on you 'cause, like, you know." Her face takes on a sympathetic quality as she speaks.<br/>
<br/>
"You know? About what?" you ask trying to play dumb.<br/>
<br/>
"Rachel, you know. She told me about having to cancel. 'Cause she had a family a commitment," she says. "I didn't know 'till after school otherwise I would've said something to you yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, well it's not like that's your fault though," you say in an attempt to reassure her.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean it kind of is though? Like it wouldn't haven even gotten that far if I hadn't made you come out in the first place or anything."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug and wave off her concern as you try to put on a strong appearance; as if you're not actually bothered by what happened. "It's fine, it's not a big deal. Really," you state. "Actually, uh, do you want to hang out again today? After school I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" she exclaims in surprise. "Today probably isn't gonna be good. I've got stuff I've gotta do right after school. But, hmm..." She stops and thinks for a moment. "You ever been out to the Warehouse before?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't say that I have," you answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay 'cause, like, I was gonna head out there tonight with some friends and if you wanna come, you know, that'd probably be cool."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd like to," you say as you slouch, "but I've got a curfew for a eleven. My parents are pretty strict about it too."<br/>
<br/>
"That sucks," Dorothy says with a bit of disappointment.<br/>
<br/>
"Well I'll see you Monday though. Maybe we can hang out then?"<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be cool," she says. "Maybe we'll run into each other this weekend too, who knows? You got anything going on?"<br/>
<br/>
You briefly consider showing her the note you'd found in your locker but decide against it. "Not really, probably just hanging around," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Same," she replies. "Well I guess I better get in my seat before the Walrus starts getting antsy. I'll see you on Monday."<br/>
<br/>
The rest of class goes off like normal and outside of her giving you a brief goodbye you don't get a chance to talk to Dorothy again. In fourth period Rachel gives you a terse hello but doesn't mention anything else so probably that note wasn't from her you realize with a sinking feeling. You take lunch with your usual crew though minus Jenny again with James saying that she texted him to say she wasn't feeling well and was going to see the nurse (everyone shudders thinking of the haggard Nurse Diesel, as the nickname goes).<br/>
<br/>
As you're eating and talking with everyone else though your mind continues to go back to that note. It's probably bullshit but you wonder if you should go where it mentioned on Saturday and see if anyone shows up.</span></div></div>


path: 114121211
author_id: rugal
title: Lunch and a Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You decide that the best thing to do is to just go along with it. It's not like you know who actually wrote that note so if whoever did write it sees you out there then they'll approach you. And if they don't or you miss them or it turns out to be a joke? Well you're not really on the hook for anything and while you're there you can at least pick up some lunch.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the day after lunch goes as normal though you continue to say nothing about the note at lunch nor do you make mention to Caleb of what you plan on doing about it, nor does he ask. You instead spend most of your time after school hanging out with him while he heckles you a bit about turning down Dorothy's invitation to the Warehouse. Once you're at home decide to do a bit of homework and then turn in early.<br/>
<br/>
Turning in early, however, means waking up early... early enough that unfortunately your parents catch you and put you on some light chore duty. It's annoying but nothing particularly bad either and you're able to finish a little after eleven. You shower and make sure you're presentable, although you don't necessarily dress up as you think that would be lame and dorky. You count the money you have left over from summer -- dwindling but still more than enough to afford some lunch -- and tell your parents that you're heading out to meet some friends for lunch. Thankfully you don't really meet any resistance or further questioning from them on your way out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You arrive at Panera a bit after noon. You head inside and get in line while looking around to potentially catch anyone noticing you or to see if you can recognize anyone from school; a girl who could have potentially written that note. There's nothing that catches your eye however until you get up to order. The girl who takes it looks like she could be a high schooler but she's nobody you recognize so you can only wonder if she's an underclassmen, part of the faceless masses or even if she goes to an entirely different school. Anyway it's not like someone taking orders and working behind a cash register would be giving you an invite to join them for lunch.<br/>
<br/>
With your order made you head over to the dining area and grab a table and scan the other people sitting there. There are adults, families and other older people you can immediately discount. A group of what looks like middle schoolers is also easy to toss aside. But there are a few girls scattered around that look closer in age than you but if it <i>is</i> one of them then none of them betray this fact as they either chat with one another or busy themselves with their phones as opposed to coming over to join you.<br/>
<br/>
You're beginning to feel very disheartened by the time the buzzer goes off to alert you that your food's ready. You're grabbing the tray from the counter when you hear a voice call out to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Will? Is that you?"<br/>
<br/>
You look over to your left to see Jenny, an empty cup in her hand, heading over to you with a friendly expression. "It <i>is</i> you, hey," she greets you as she stands next to you. "Nice running into you."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah, good to see you too," you reply. "You here to pick something up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eating here," she replies as she shakes her empty cup at you. "Same as you it looks like. Mind if I join you?"<br/>
<br/>
Of course Jenny is a friend, of a sort anyway, and it'd be better than sitting here and eating alone waiting for a girl who might not even show up so you're only too happy to accept. "It's not a problem," you say as you lead her back over to the table you'd picked out and sit down. "You come out here a lot?" you ask not really being sure how to break the ice.<br/>
<br/>
"Often enough I guess," she shrugs. "Never see <i>you</i> out here though. Wanted to try something new?"<br/>
<br/>
"A little," you answer nervously, unsure of if you should actually tell her the truth. But she's been sticking up for you -- when she's around anyway -- this week so you figure it can't hurt. "Actually I'm hoping to meet someone out here."<br/>
<br/>
"Oooh, really? Who? A girl?" she teases and smirks.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually yeah. At least I think so," you state nervously. "The truth is I found a note in my locker yesterday. Whoever wrote it said that they thought I was cute and they were having lunch here today."<br/>
<br/>
"No way!" Jenny exclaims in astonishment. "And you think it's a girl? Did they sign it?"<br/>
<br/>
"They didn't sign it," you tell her, "but it had to have been a girl right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Unless it was a guy," she laughs. "Oh, hold up," she says when her food is ready. She gets up to grab it and comes back a moment later. "Okay so yeah, you got this note maybe from a girl? Did you say anything about it at lunch yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nuh uh," you shake your head. "They would've just razzed me if I did."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, guess you're right," she mutters. "I swear to god those fuckers are more useless than tits on a bull."<br/>
<br/>
"How are you feeling by the way? You know the nurse's office and everything?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, fine I guess," she states. "Just an upset stomach. Felt like shit at the time though. Thanks for asking."<br/>
<br/>
You two continue to chat -- about school and your friends and whatever cheerleader drama Yumi and Cindy and the others have been feeding her -- while you eat your lunches. By the time you're ready to leave the girl that wrote that note, whoever she is, never shows up but you suppose it could be worse since at least you got some food and and are getting to hang out with a friend you never really spend time with outside of school.<br/>
<br/>
So you're pleasantly surprised when Jenny gets your attention as you're both throwing away your trash. "Hey Will," she starts, "would you mind taking me up to the mall?"<br/>
<br/>
"What for?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It's my stupid phone," she groans. "I kinda spilled soda on it last night and it's totally dead. I had to get a ride up here and was planning to get a ride over there to pick up a new one but if you don't mind then it'd save me a lot of headache."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure, I guess. I don't have anything else going on," you answer. "Do you need a ride back?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't mind," she answers and gives you a smile. "I'll pay you back for it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You head up to the mall with Jenny and accompany her to one of the cellphone stores where after a bit of looking around she eventually finds something she likes as well as a phone card (it's easier to go month to month versus a contract she tells you). She gets it activated when you're back in the truck.<br/>
<br/>
"There we go," she says once she's finished. She looks over at you with a grateful expression. "Thanks Will, I mean it. You're a life saver," she says with relief. "So I said I'd pay you back for helping me right? Well I've been enjoying myself so do you want to keep hanging out? Do you have anything going on?"<br/>
<br/>
:Oh! Uh, no, it's fine."<br/>
<br/>
"Great! Okay then, I know just the place!"<br/>
<br/>
She starts giving directions as you pull out of the parking lot. You follow them heading south and eventually you're clear on the other side out town, The older and underdeveloped portion on the outskirts south of of the university. An area that's a reminder of the town's origins as little more than a stop over for travelers headed to places of far greater importance. You continue to follow them as you turn into the parking lot of the Donna, a motel that looks like it's definitely seen its fair share of things over the decades.<br/>
<br/>
"Wait here," Jenny says once you've parked. "I'll be back in a few minutes."<br/>
<br/>
You around and decide to kill the engine as you look at your phone. You're not sure how much time passes but Jenny eventually comes knocking on your window. "Alright," she says when you lower it. "Come with me. We've got a few hours."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?" you ask as you hop out of the truck and lock it. But Jenny is already ahead of you, the short jean shorts she's wearing making her legs look longer than you'd think as she walks quickly, and you have to pick up the pace yourself to keep up with her.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll see," is all she coyly says.<br/>
<br/>
You follow her and are actually starting to get a little winded as you attempt to keep up before she stops in front of a room. She pulls out a key and unlocks the door gesturing for you to come in. You do and she shuts the door behind you. You turn to see her set the large bag she's been carrying down and to your surprise Jenny launches herself at you. Her mouth is against yours, her tongue probes the inside of your mouth and wrestles with your own and her fingers press hard against your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny!" you exclaim in shock when she finally pulls away. "What the hell is going on!? What are we doing here!?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will," she says and her voice has taken a lower (and you want to say sultrier) register. "Remember what Keith joked about on Wednesday? What I got really pissed at him for? Well I've been thinking about it and I thought... why not? We've got this room all to ourselves for the next few hours. What do you think we're doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes damn near pop out of your head at what you're hearing. "Did... did <i>you</i> put that note in my locker?"<br/>
<br/>
But Jenny says nothing. Merely smirks as she walks past you towards the bathroom. "I'm gonna take a few minutes to freshen up," she says looking back, "so I can pay you back properly. Get comfy, Will."<br/>
<br/>
She disappears into the bathroom and you hear the door click. You're sweating nervously and your eyes dart around when they spot something in the bag she'd set down. You pull it out and notice that it looks like a mask. You flip it over and are surprised to see a name emblazoned on the back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>LORI DENISE SHERMAN</i><br/>
<br/>
The name stands out in big, bold letters. You take a quick glance in the bag and notice a few more similar items. Just what is this? Why does Jenny have it? What's going on?</span></div></div>


path: 1141212111
author_id: rugal
title: Secrets of a Secret Admirer
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're very confused right now and the last few minutes have been such a whirlwind that you're practically dizzy. You figure then that it's best for your own peace of mind to ask Jenny what's up with this mask -- you have no idea who Lori Sherman is truth be told -- and see if you can get an answer out of her. That's the plan anyway but then you hear the bathroom door open and drop the mask onto the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I told you to get ready," Jenny says with a pout in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
You're not even sure what to say because standing there is Jenny clad only in her underwear. She's skinny with breasts that are small and not a lot of curvature at the hips but her stomach is flat and toned and, well, it's Jenny. Someone you see in school. Someone you eat lunch with. And she's here, with, you, alone in a dingy motel room wearing nothing but a bra and panties. What are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to <i>do</i>? What she was talking about... does she...<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," she says as she comes up to you and grabs your hands. She turns you around and then pushes you, gently, onto a sitting position on the bed. "Just relax, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
She then grasps you both sides of your face and once more places her lips against yours. Like before her tongue is in your mouth as she hungrily, greedily, attacks it. You don't really know what to actually do except to go with it and try to reciprocate but truth be told it's not like you have any clue as to what you're doing so the whole thing is just a sloppy and, from your end, awkward affair.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny eventually pulls back but keeps her eyes planted firmly on you as she guides her hand down to your crotch. She pulls down the zipper of your shorts and you feel her fingers rummage inside as she pulls your dick out. They clasp around it and you let out... some kind of noise as her soft hand begins to gently massage it. You can feel it enlarging and engorging and Jenny smiles and giggles before, to your amazement she lowers her head.<br/>
<br/>
You shudder and moan once more as you feel her tongue touch and then begin to caress your dick. Slowly and seemingly expertly she works her way up and to the tip which she then places her mouth around. She begins to work it with her mouth and tongue, slowly at first but picking up in speed and intensity and you can do nothing but sit there in almost blissful amazement as one thought passes through your head.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Jenny is blowing me. I'm in an old motel room getting a blow job from Jenny Ashton."</i><br/>
<br/>
Perhaps because of that and because it's your first time it's not long before you shudder and cum. You feel Jenny's throat muscles work and can only imagine what that means as she begins to slowly remove herself from your cock. Her head raises back up and she looks at you with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"What the hell?" is all you can mutter.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny however giggles at that. "I told you, Will, that I was going to pay you back didn't I?" she replies. "And that's just the appetizer. It's not even the main course."<br/>
<br/>
She places a hand on your chest and all you can think of is how bizarre this is, as if it's something you might have dreamed about. You feel good but you're also nervous and that seems to snap you out of your stupor just slightly long enough to grab her and move her away from you.<br/>
<br/>
"Wait a minute," you say with heavy breathing as you push yourself up, "before we go any further I have to ask you something. All of this is... it's <i>weird</i>! It feels like it's not even real it's so bizarre! But this," you move to grab that mask-looking object with the name etched into the back and and it to Jenny. "This is the weirdest thing of all. What <i>is</i> this? What the hell is going on, Jenny?"<br/>
<br/>
Jenny's eyes are cast downward as she looks at the object that's now in her hands. "You want to know what's going on?" she asks quietly. She then looks back up at you and smiles as she pushes herself up and once more makes her way over to the bathroom. "Give me a few minutes and I'll tell you what's up, 'kay?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Lori Sherman is a thin girl, much like Jenny, but with paler skin. Her hair is short and dyed a very bright turquoise and she looks at you with large, dark doe eyes. She's laying next to you in bed, her hand under your shirt and massaging your chest. She's laughing at the same time as she talks and tells you that it's weird to think she might possibly be cheating on her boyfriend with you.<br/>
<br/>
But she's not because she's not Lori Sherman. At least you think she's not. Lori Sherman is the girl whose name was in that mask and while Jenny had gone into the bathroom it was Lori who had emerged. Now that you had seen her you think that you might have seen her around school because that hair color is kind of hard to not remember but you can't be entirely sure either. But who exactly is she?<br/>
<br/>
"A girl whose face I'm borrowing," she says when you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I'm not understanding. How? Was it that thing that I gave you?" you ask. Suddenly a more panicked thought enters your head. "Are you Jenny?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was until a few minutes ago," she answers. "But now I'm Lori."<br/>
<br/>
You shoot up and turn to face her. "But <i>how</i>!? This is what I'm not understanding!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're right, Will," she says as she pushes herself up and off of the bed. "It's that thing you handed me. It's a mask."<br/>
<br/>
She moves over to the bag and picks it up. You turn to face her as she places it on the bed and removes even more of those things, those masks she called them, from it. She gestures for you and you pick them up one by one and each has a name etched into the back. There's Jenny's you realize but there's also more: Erin Hale (a junior girl, she tells you), Tara Weston, Audrey Briscoe.<br/>
<br/>
"What are these?" you ask dumbfounded.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, they're masks," Lori (it's easier to think of her as that) says. "Magic masks I guess. It's the weirdest thing but you make them right? They're totally blank but if you put them against someone's face it copies them right into it. They're appearance and," she grabs a mask and points to the name, "their brain too. Then you put it on and, abracadabra, you turn into them. You look like them, you think like them."<br/>
<br/>
You eye her skeptically as she hands you the mask and you look down to see Audrey's name.<br/>
<br/>
"So if you put that mask on, you'd be Audrey inside and out."<br/>
<br/>
You study it and are actually tempted to put it on and see if she's telling the truth but you think better of it and hand it back. "I want to say this is bullshit and that you're pranking me, uh, whoever you are," you tell her. "But I guess that would be a stupid thing to think given... everything that's happened today I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"This week you mean," she says with a small laugh. "See I've only told one other person besides you about this. Who do you think it was? What happened this week?"<br/>
<br/>
You take a moment to rack your brain but the answer becomes apparent pretty quickly. "Rachel!?" you ask in astonishment.<br/>
<br/>
"Right on!" the Lori-disguised girl exclaims. "Yeah, I know her. For a, uh, long time. So I had to tell her. She helped me make them following the... recipe I found. Online. And it worked right? So I had to use it and I kind of went to school as her on Wednesday. But I set her up with something 'cause, well, 'cause I like you." She laughs again. "She wasn't really happy with that."<br/>
<br/>
"So wait, then I hung out with you on Wednesday and... were you the one who put that note in my locker?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," she answers. "I like you but, um, I'm nervous? Because people kind of judge me for reasons."<br/>
<br/>
"Like your looks?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe," she states coyly. "But like this... it doesn't matter right? I want to go out with you Will, I do, but it's easier like this for me. But I'll tell you what: I'll give you my number and if you want to hang out just text me. We'll set up a meeting place and we can hang out. But under one of these things for me. In fact," she smiles, "if you text me a girl's name maybe I'll try and grab her face for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, sure," you say dumbfounded by what you're hearing. "Can you at least tell me your name?"<br/>
<br/>
She thinks about it for a moment before shaking her head. "Not my real one. Not until I'm ready. But if you want to call me something, hmm... Gail works." She then offers you a sincere, warm smile. "Actually if you want to get together on Monday just text me. I'm not free tomorrow but I'll definitely be free then."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The rest of the weekend passes by in a confused fog and you're still not out of it by the time school resumes on Monday. Of course you didn't tell your friends about what happened or about your secret admirer, Gail or whoever she really is. You're in such a daze that you almost miss Dorothy greeting you when you come into first period.<br/>
<br/>
"I just asked if your weekend went well," she says when you ask her about it. "You have fun bein' a vegetable?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sure, I guess. What about you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, it was alright you know? Kinda boring," she shrugs. "But I was thinking about what you asked me on Friday? I'm free after school so if you wanna hang out..."<br/>
<br/>
She lets the invite hang there and you can't help but notice the sly smile she gives you as she says it. You also remember what Caleb and your other friends have said about Dorothy and her reputation and after Saturday got you all riled up, well, you wonder if it's true and if so just how far she'd be willing to go.<br/>
<br/>
But Gail... she said she was free today as well and she does have those masks. Even if you don't know who she really is but does it really matter? Wouldn't it be nice to have a girlfriend who both seems willing to go all the way and could possibly look like any girl you wanted?</span></div></div>


path: 11413
author_id: seuzz
title: The Prank Pals
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Mr. Walberg gets really sarcastic on your ass when you tell him that you forgot your time capsule contribution, but he gives you until the end of the day to find something for him. "Make it good," he adds.<br/>
<br/>
Your plan is to talk to Carson at lunch, but almost you change your mind after two conversations occur in the meantime. The first is with your friend Keith, in second period, when you show him the book and tell him that you're planning to loan it to Carson for a prank against Seth Javits. You think that'll amuse him, but it doesn't. "How's it gonna backfire on me?" he asks. <br/>
<br/>
"It's not gonna backfire on you."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you! You remember that shit him and his ass-buddy pulled at the start of school?" Yes, you do: Carson and James glued Javits's books together, but it was Keith who caught the blame. <br/>
<br/>
Then, during a break between classes, Sean Wilcox warns you that Carson's trick is going to lose you the book. "You're not gonna have a book any more, probably," he says, "if you let him use it."<br/>
<br/>
So when you march off to meet Carson for lunch, you are determined to find out what exactly he has planned.<br/>
<br/>
"Never you mind, Prescott,"  he snaps at you after you've made your demand. "It's not your prank and it's not your business—"<br/>
<br/>
"It is my book," you remind him. "I'm only renting it to you. <i>If</i> I wind up renting it to you, which maybe I won't if you don't tell me what your idea is."<br/>
<br/>
Carson takes a bite of his sandwich, and studies you carefully.<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting out front of the school with him and his friends, on the quad between the main office and the teacher's parking lot. Light traffic is whistling down Borman Avenue. You haven't even broken out your own lunch yet, and you don't break it out now as you bend your full concentration onto Carson. His friend James—who typically partners with Carson in his pranks—stirs uneasily, but doesn't say anything either.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves an opening for Jenny Ashton, also sitting nearby, to insert herself.<br/>
<br/>
"I wish you wouldn't do whatever you've got planned," she tells Carson. "Your pranks have a way of backfiring onto Cindy." Cindy Vredenburg is one of the stuck-up cheerleaders, and is a friend of Jenny's.<br/>
<br/>
"They wouldn't backfire onto Cindy," Carson retorts without taking his eyes off you, "if that douchebag wasn't her boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"They wouldn't backfire onto her if you didn't pull them in the first place!"<br/>
<br/>
James jumps in. "How do they backfire onto Cindy?" he asks Jenny.<br/>
<br/>
"They piss Seth off, and he takes it out on her."<br/>
<br/>
"Oooh, domestic abuse," Carson says. "I'm glad you told me. Next time he punches her, tell me, and I can have him arrested."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not—"<br/>
<br/>
"It'd be for her own good, Ashton."<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't hit her! It's not abuse!" Jenny shouts. "He just gets pissed off. Naturally. And then he gets snippy with her and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Carson groans. "Snippy. Middle school girls get 'snippy,' Ashton. Are you saying that Javits gets snarky and makes little sarcastic comments at Cindy after we prank him?"<br/>
<br/>
"What I'm saying is, why can't you do this prank to Steve or to Gordon? They deserve to get shit at least as much as Seth does. More."<br/>
<br/>
Carson grunts. "They were first on the rota last time. It's Seth's turn now."<br/>
<br/>
"Look," you jump in, "tell me what the prank is. I wanna know if—"<br/>
<br/>
"Tilley's not gonna get hurt—"<br/>
<br/>
"And I've got another buyer lined up for it. Maybe. I don't want lose the book if I can—"<br/>
<br/>
"For how much?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"What? Oh. Thirty dollars."<br/>
<br/>
Carson sucks on a tooth and looks at James. James shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll buy the book from you for thirty," Carson tells you. "I'll match this other guy's price. And if the prank goes off, I'll sell it back to you for twenty. How's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ten," you counteroffer. "And you tell me what the prank is."<br/>
<br/>
"Twenty," Carson repeats, "and you don't ask questions. It's safer for you that way, Prescott," he adds when you open your mouth to argue. "You're paying an extra ten for peace of mind."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," you grumble. "But I still need a thing to put in the time capsule if I'm going to loan you the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Sell, Prescott," he corrects you "Sell and buy back. And the book was a stupid thing to put in anyway. But—" he adds, and glances around the circle. His eyebrows work.<br/>
<br/>
"Buy it back from me for the full thirty," he says after a moment's thought, "and I'll give you a thing for the time capsule that Walberg will spazz over."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have to hand it to Carson, it was a smart idea for the time capsule, though he had to explain it to you. Mr. Walberg himself gives you a very skeptical look when you hand the item off to him at the start of seventh period, and he only grunts when you give him the short version of Carson's explanation. But something in his manner suggests that, although you may not have hit a home run, you have hit a solid double and maybe even a triple. Considering how sarcastic he was with you this morning, that by itself is a huge win.<br/>
<br/>
You're even more relieved when Caleb passes along a rumor he heard that Mr. Walberg will be requiring you and the class to write a short paper about your submissions. That's when the genius of Carson's idea really comes home, for such a paper—as he explained it to you—would practically write itself.<br/>
<br/>
You are even off the hook with your dad when, the next evening, he asks you where that book went, for he has noticed that it disappeared from his office. He looks impressed when you tell him that you took it to school to give it (you are careful not to say "sold it") to Carson. "Yeah, I told him about it, and he sounded interested—"<br/>
<br/>
"You think he'll be able to figure it out?" your dad asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I think so. I bet so. He's real smart."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let me know how it works out," your dad says, "and what he found inside if he manages to get it open."<br/>
<br/>
The real beauty, though, is that if Carson does lose the book, it'll be his fault, and you can blame it on him!<br/>
<br/>
And as it turns out, Carson's prank does backfire on him, just as Sean Wilcox foretold.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a week before you find that out, though, from an angry and shame-faced Carson, and it only comes out when you press him over it. You're out front of the school, eating lunch with him and his friends again, and you remember to thank him for giving you the idea for your time capsule submission.<br/>
<br/>
"What was it?" Jenny asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Package of cupcakes. Out of the vending machine front of the office. The future'll find out if they actually kept for a hundred years. All those preservatives."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you and Johansson dug them out," James says as Carson makes no reply. <br/>
<br/>
"No, it was his thumb drive we dug back up. You know, I didn't even think about that," you add. "I should'a taken those cupcakes out too while we were in there. I was hungry. That was fun," you add. <br/>
<br/>
Well, it seems like fun now. Last Friday night, when you helped Caleb dig up the time capsule so he could swap out a thumb drive full of porn for a thumb drive full of nothing, it seemed like a real pain. "You should'a come along," you tell James and Carson.<br/>
<br/>
And because digging up the time capsule now feels like a prank, you are now reminded of the prank that Carson meant to pull. "Oh, hey, that reminds me," you tell him. "Did you do that thing to Seth yet?"<br/>
<br/>
Your question is met with silence, and you notice that even James looks a little embarrassed. "Did you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It didn't go off," Carson says. "And, uh, you can't have the book back."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?" You don't especially want it back—you'd have to buy it back, and you'd rather have the money—but you're curious about the prank.<br/>
<br/>
"It didn't work out," Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
"So where's the book?"<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose Seth has it," James says.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>What?</i> What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
What happened, Carson confesses in a voice tight with anger, is that the book disappeared before the prank could be pulled off. He had taken it into the main office to show Mr. Sagansky, the principal, and had shown it to a few other teachers, telling them it was a rare antique and worth hundreds of dollars, while being careful not to let them see that only the cover would open. Then he had snuck it into Seth's locker. (How he knew the combination, he didn't say.) The plan was to tell the administration that Seth had stolen it off them, and to lead them to the locker where they would find it. And then, when they examined it, they'd find that the pages were glued shut, so that Seth would be on the hook both for theft and for defacement of valuable property. <br/>
<br/>
Well, that was the plan, and he did put it into effect. But when Seth's locker was searched, the book was gone. Upshot: Carson himself now has a black mark against his name in the administration's books.<br/>
<br/>
That's too bad, you suppose, but it doesn't really bother you. Thanks to the deal you struck, you're thirty dollars richer.<br/>
<br/>
And that seems like the end of it.<br/>
<br/>
But it isn't.<br/>
<br/>
Because the following Friday, Jenny comes looking for you in one of your classes. "Hey, you remember that book Carson used in that, uh, project?" she asks you. "It was yours originally, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought so. Cindy wants to talk to you about it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Cindy?</i> you think. <i>Cindy Vredenburg? The cheerleader?</i> Your heart ricochets around in your chest. <i>Sure!</i> you almost yelp.<br/>
<br/>
But Cindy is also Seth Javits's girlfriend. So there's another voice shouting inside your head: <br/>
<br/>
<i>It's a trap!</i> </span></div></div>


path: 114131
author_id: seuzz
title: Cindy's Story
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can't imagine why Cindy Vredenburg would want to talk to you. She's one of the snooty cheerleaders, and she only ever acknowledges your existence when she happens to be talking with Jenny. And even then she only sniffs at you.<br/>
<br/>
"What does she want to talk to <i>me</i> for?" you ask Jenny.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, it's about that book, apparently."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought Carson lost it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Cindy has it, or something. I don't know." Jenny glances around with a pained expression on her face. "Look, I don't want to get in the middle of whatever this is about. Do you wanna talk to Cindy or don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
You have no idea what could be going on. But Cindy <i>is</i> a leggy cheerleader with sheets of platinum-blonde hair.<br/>
<br/>
So you ask Jenny to set something up with her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The meeting doesn't come off until the next day—a Saturday. Jenny texts to tell you that Cindy will meet you at the Crystal Cave coffee shop at a two.<br/>
<br/>
You make sure to get there early, but to your surprise Cindy is already there, sitting at a table and staring off into space with an expression of intense concentration. You have to square up your gut muscles before approaching. "Hey. Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
She does a small double take at you, and with a quick intake of breath retrieves her attention from light years away. After an awkward moment, you add, "I'm Will? Jenny said I was supposed to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" she says. "Will. Hi." She gestures at the chair opposite her with a slim hand. "I'm Cindy," she says, as though you didn't know, and as though you've never met. (Though, to be fair, she probably doesn't remember. To her, you are probably just one of the many ratty-ass high school seniors who scuttle through the hallways, getting in Her Imperial Majesty's way.) You pull out a chair and drop your bony butt into it. You can <i>feel</i> Cindy pull just a little bit away from you.<br/>
<br/>
"So, uh, Jenny said you wanted to talk about some book or other?" You glance around, half expecting Jenny to come charging around a corner.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." A tiny wrinkle of puzzlement disfigures Cindy smooth, creamy forehead. "She said it was yours."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if I could see it," you suggest. But there's an expectant pause before Cindy bends to fuss with a backpack in the chair next to her. When she straightens up, she lays the book on the table between you.<br/>
<br/>
It's the same book, all right. Red leather covers, with a gold pentagram stamped onto its spine. You open the cover and blink again at the row of faces that march along the bottom of the title page. Without thinking, you flip the page, and are greeted by great blocks of Latin written in an ornate but readable script.<br/>
<br/>
A warning bell goes off inside your head, and you flip back and forth between it and the title page. Something's wrong. You remember not being able to turn any pages, but here you are flipping between two of them.<br/>
<br/>
And you think you would have remembered this page if you had seen it! The top half is covered in Latin text. But the bottom half is covered in an intricate, wheel-like design containing many strange symbols woven into its whorls.<br/>
<br/>
But you are baulked when you try turning to the next page. You dig your thumbnail deeper into the book, trying to peel it apart, then pick it up and shake it upside down. But only those first few pages flutter freely.<br/>
<br/>
"Is something wrong?" Cindy asks. She is giving you a grave look when you look up at her with staring eyes. "I thought Jenny said you used to own the thing."<br/>
<br/>
"I did. I got it at Arnholm's." You nod your head at the wall behind her, on the other side of which is the used bookstore. (It was Jenny's idea to meet at the Cave after you told her your history with the book—it shares a building with Arnholm's.) "But—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath, and scratch your scalp under your ball cap.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I couldn't get any of the pages to open."<br/>
<br/>
"What, none of them?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"None of them?" she asks again, accenting the first word.<br/>
<br/>
"No! I was stuck at the title page."<br/>
<br/>
You flip back to the front of the book. <i>SUMMA LIBRA PERSONAE,</i> the title page reads in large letters at the top. Then, in smaller letters beneath, <i>Personae, de Elementa, et ad Relatio Inter Se; et eorum Constructio; et Modum Repraesentationis et ejus Reflexio in Materia.</i> There's another paragraph beneath this one, but your eye glazes over as you stare at it.<br/>
<br/>
Then your gaze drifts over to the facing papers glued to the inside of the front cover. There's that single sentence whose sudden appearance so freaked you out, and the small, thumbprint-shaped design beneath it. You do a double-take at it, and raise the book almost to your nose to give it a closer look.<br/>
<br/>
The ink is smudged over with a reddish-brown stain.<br/>
<br/>
You lift your eyes to stare at Cindy over the top of the book. She stares back.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell you what I know about it," she says, "if you tell me what you know."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She tells you that she found it in Seth's locker, which she shares with him, about ten days ago. (She has a locker of her own, she explains, where she keeps some other of her things, but she also keeps a lot of her stuff inside his.) She had to take it out in order to get some of her own books in, and then she forgot about it and unloaded it from her backpack when she got home, intending to give it back to Seth the next time she saw him. But she didn't remember until Seth himself asked about it the next day.<br/>
<br/>
He was in a pissy mood, for Mr. Sagansky himself had pulled Seth from class and forced him to open his locker, and had searched both it and Seth's backpack. When Seth demanded to know what the deal was, Mr. Sagansky said he was looking for a book bound in red leather that another student had lost. Seth denied anything about it, and Mr. Sagansky had dropped the matter. So Seth wanted to know what Cindy knew about it.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy showed him the book, and he grunted over it, but then tossed it away, telling her that if she wanted to talk to Mr. Sagansky about it, she could. Cindy took the book in to school with her the next day, intending to do just that, but she mentioned it to Jenny first, and Jenny warned her off, telling her that the book had been planted in Seth's locker by some friends of hers as part of a prank. "You'll get in a hell of a lot of trouble if you show it to Saganksy," she warned Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
So she kept the book back, and started looking through it out of curiosity. She found, like you, that the pages wouldn't turn, so she translated the Latin and found that she'd have to "give it some blood". That gave her a bad turn, but she decided to try it, and found that after that the title page would turn.<br/>
<br/>
Behind that was a page of warnings and a more thorough description of the book and what it is. Then came the first spell.<br/>
<br/>
That's right, she emphasizes, and she's a little pale in the face when she says it. <i>It's a book of magic.</i><br/>
<br/>
She decided not to show it to Seth, but instead started playing around with it to see what it did. She couldn't get the book to turn past the spell on that first page, so she tried working it. It took her almost a week to make the thing—hiding her work in her bedroom because she felt so ashamed of playing around with the occult in her parents' house—but when it was done she was suddenly able to get the next page to turn. "It says I made a mask," she explains in a near whisper. She takes it out of her bag to show you.<br/>
<br/>
It's a shallow oval, and shines all over with a brilliant glow light, like the sky on a cold, clear winter day. There are bumps and depressions in it, corresponding to a human brow, nose, cheekbones, and lips. But the expression is blank, and the features generic. Except for the color, it resembles a classic tragedian's mask. "So does it do something?" you ask her. "If it's magic?"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy bites her lip. "I don't know," she says. "The book— I can't read Latin, and the book's instructions all come out wonky when I run them through a translator. But it says something about how it 'absorbs' the image of the person who wears the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean like it sucks them inside it?"<br/>
<br/>
She shudders slightly. "That's why I wanted to talk to you, to see what you knew about it."<br/>
<br/>
You spread your hands in a shrug. All that you know is what you told her, that you picked up the book for cheap in Arnholm's because everyone thought it was some kind of fake.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy sinks back in her chair with a silent frown.</span></div></div>


path: 1141311
author_id: seuzz
title: The Sequel to Cindy's Story
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>This is really freaky, and a big part of you thinks that you should back away and leave it alone. <br/>
<br/>
But a bigger part of you—the part that has been slowly engorging—is just dying for an excuse to hang out with Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I don't know what this stuff is," you tell her. "I bought the book and I looked through it and— Well, I was just kind of confused by it. Like, I couldn't get the pages to turn. So I showed it to my dad, and we just thought it was a trick book. Like, there was a hidden compartment or something in it. And then I took it to school and showed it to Carson Ioeger, and he, um—"<br/>
<br/>
You redden. "What did Jenny tell you about the, uh, prank he was trying to ..." You trail off.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Just that—" She catches herself. "Do you think Carson could help out?"<br/>
<br/>
You're sure he could, but the thought of Carson Ioeger and his friend James getting mixed up in magical shenanigans makes you feel urpy. "He doesn't know any more about it than I do," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"He's smart."<br/>
<br/>
You ignore the implied insult. "At science. This is magic." You tap the design on the open spell. "Right?"<br/>
<br/>
But talk of Carson has reminded you of Jenny, and you look around for her. But Cindy tells you that she told Jenny to skip the meeting, that she wanted to talk to you alone.<br/>
<br/>
That's what settles it for you. You don't care how weird or dangerous the book is. If Cindy was willing to meet with you alone to talk about it, she'll be willing to work with you on it and the stuff that it makes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend almost three hours with Cindy at the Cave, translating and retranslating the Latin through a variety of online websites. The first two pages are full of promises and warning, particularly about misusing the knowledge that it imparts and acting out of pride, folly and perversity with the things that it makes. It also cautions that only those skilled in "alchemical geometry" should try its spells, and warns that various "locks" have been placed upon it.<br/>
<br/>
Among those locks, you deem, is the weird way that the book's pages won't turn unless you perform certain actions. For instance, the title page wouldn't turn until Cindy gave it some of her blood (and you still can't believe she sliced her thumb open and pressed a bloody print to the facign pages), and that one sentence telling you to give it blood didn't appear until you bought the book.<br/>
<br/>
As for the mask ... <br/>
<br/>
The book calls it a <i>receptaculum,</i> and says it must filled with an <i>imago</i> and sealed, whereupon it will become a <i>persona.</i> And what are these things?<br/>
<br/>
"Receptaculum," Cindy theorizes, is like receptacle, and "imago" is image. As for a persona, the nearest thing you can figure is that it means something like "personality." But the pieces don't fit together. <br/>
<br/>
Since Arnholm's is next door, you take it over there to show to the brothers, to see what they can tell you. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Ted Arnholm instantly recognizes and remembers you, and he glowers sourly at the book when you show it to him. He is reluctant to answer your questions, but relents far enough to call his brother over, and Tom, after mulling it over, declares that it must have come from the "Blackwell acquisition." <br/>
<br/>
"Professor up at the college," he says, "sent a work-study student in with a batch of books to sell. I'm pretty sure this was one of them. Hell, I <i>am</i> sure it's one of them." He tries pulling at the pages. "Fired the moron who paid over good money for it." He also gives you the name of the professor: Aubrey Blackwell. "You wanna talk to him, if you want to know anything about it." He scowls at the spell with its mysterious sigil. "There's nothin' here I'm interested in," he declares.<br/>
<br/>
You and Cindy talk a little more, then decide that you want to find out a little more about the book on your own before going to see that professor. She has to get home, though, for her whole family is going out for dinner and she has to get ready, but she agrees to meet up with you again tomorrow after church.<br/>
<br/>
All of which leaves you a little stuck for an answer when Jenny texts you to ask how things went. In fact, she was so eager for news that she sent the text while you were still with Cindy, but you ignored it until you got home. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Fine,</i> you reply. <i>Shes interested in that book n wants to know abt it.</i> You hesitate, then add, <i>Meeting w her tmorw to talk some more abt it.</i><br/>
<br/>
Jenny must have been away from her phone, for it's an hour before she replies. <i>!!!!??!!</i> she says, followed by, <i>Just be careful w seth.</i><br/>
<br/>
You hadn't forgotten about Cindy's boyfriend, but he wasn't at the forefront of your mind. Is he a jealous jock-asshole who will hassle you for hanging out with his girlfriend? Probably. Is he a jock-bully who has hassled you for shits and grins before? Definitely. <i>Can u tell cindy to keep seeth away,</i> you ask Jenny. <i>it be weird if I ask her probly.</i> Jenny assures you that she'll remind Cindy to keep Seth at a distance.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny is as good as her word, you discover on Sunday afternoon, when again you meet Cindy at the Crystal Cave. She looks very nervous—almost ill—as she draws that mask out again and sets it gingerly on the table between you. "I tried it out on Jenny last night!" she hisses.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Jenny came over to her house last night, she tells you, to talk about you and about Seth and some other things. While there, Cindy plucked up her courage and got Jenny to put on the mask.<br/>
<br/>
"It was the scariest thing!" she tells you in a horrified whisper. Her eyes, which are already big and doll-like, roll with terror in her head. "I had it out and I told Jenny it was this thing that I found, and I managed to talk her into putting it on—up to her face, you know?—and it—" Cindy gulps. "And it <i>went into her!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You ask what she means by that.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean it went into her! It just faded away, and then Jenny fell over backward on my bed, all passed out, like someone had conked her on the head!" The coffee mug trembles in her hand as she lifts it for a clumsy sip. "And I'm all freaked out because I don't know what to do. Jenny, she won't wake up, she won't respond, she's like in a coma, and I don't know—"<br/>
<br/>
Tears spring into her eyes, and she has to press the sniffles back up into her nose with two fingertips.<br/>
<br/>
"I've never been so scared! Like, here I did this thing to her, and maybe I killed her, and I used <i>magic,</i> which makes it a million time worse!"<br/>
<br/>
"What happened?" you ask in horrified tones of your own.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," she says, "I guess it's a good thing I freaked out so hard I couldn't do anything—all I could do was sit next to Jenny and cry because I was so scared and didn't know what to do. And then the thing came back out. It just kind of faded onto her face again. I grabbed it up and hid it and I smacked Jenny around a little, to see if she'd wake up, and she did. So <i>thank God</i> it worked out!"<br/>
<br/>
"Was she okay? Was Jenny—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. I mean, she didn't know what happened, and I kind of freaked <i>her</i> out too 'cos I'd been crying."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you tell her what you did?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, did I tell her about the mask? Fuck, no!" Cindy looks at you like you're crazy. "I just told her she conked out on me and scared me half to death. Anyway—" She pushes the mask across the table toward you. "I guess we now know what the thing does."<br/>
<br/>
You pick the mask up. Something about the gleaming highlights catches your eye, and you turn it this way and that. You suck in a sharp breath when you recognize what you're looking at. "Do you see it too?" Cindy asks in a low moan.<br/>
<br/>
It's Jenny Ashton's face. Ghostly, painted with with strokes of light, floating inside the mask like a 3D image, but it is recognizably Jenny's face. The image turns as you turn the mask, so that you can glimpse her left ear from one direction, and her right ear from the other, and when you tilt the mask to look down you can see the crown of Jenny's head and her neck and a little bit of her shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
The mask has captured Jenny's image!<br/>
<br/>
You swallow and ask Cindy to take out the book, and you both start when you see that an oval-shaped stain has appeared on the spell page. You exchange a look, then set the mask onto it. When you lift it again, the stain vanishes, and page flutters loose. All the color drains from Cindy's face as you turn the page, and she looks like she's going to throw up.</span></div></div>


path: 11413111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Fumble
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"If you want to give the book back to me," you tell Cindy, "or sell it back to me—"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Cindy rears back like you've just slapped her.<br/>
<br/>
You blink. "Well, you look freaked out by all this."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" she exclaims. "Aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah. But I'm just saying, if you wanna get rid of the book, I'm, uh, willing to—"<br/>
<br/>
You trail off. Cindy is staring at you in horror.<br/>
<br/>
It takes her awhile to find whatever words she is struggling for, and even then she can't quite lay her tongue on them. "Why do you want to—? I mean, what are you—? Are you trying to—? <i>What?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself blushing.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not trying to take anything away from you, Cindy," you assure her. "You just— Well, you're acting like you want to get rid of this stuff. Because it freaks you out. And I'm just telling you that if you want to, uh, get rid of it, that I'll—"<br/>
<br/>
"What would you <i>do</i> with it?" she squeals, and snatches the mask to her chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, I guess." You spread your hands in a wide shrug.<br/>
<br/>
There's an awkward silence between you as the color returns to Cindy's face in a hard, ugly flush. You play with your fingers and wait for Cindy to yell some more at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, look," she finally says, and leans across the table to hiss at you. "I don't like playing around with this stuff. It scares me! But I'm not going to let anyone else play with it either!"<br/>
<br/>
"So what are you going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
She squirms in her chair, and looks everywhere but at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," she says. Then, impulsively, she snatches up her bag and stuffs the mask and the book into it. "I'm going for a drive," she says. "You can wait here. Or do whatever you want. I'll text you later." She bustles out with a loud sigh.<br/>
<br/>
You hunch at the table and rub your eyes. <i>What a cock up,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're still at the Cave an hour later, nursing a cold mug of coffee and languidly surfing the internet on your phone, when Cindy texts to ask where you are. <i>Still at cave,</i> you reply.  She asks you to meet her in the parking lot in ten minutes.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought about what you said," she says from behind the wheel of her still-running car when you make the meet-up. "I'm not giving you the book. And I'm definitely not giving you that mask. But—" She bites on her lip and makes a face. "I don't like having it and doing the stuff at my house. So, okay, <i>you</i> can keep hold of it. Just don't do anything without me along!"<br/>
<br/>
"Are we going to go do something with it now?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I've got something else to do. And I'm not in the mood. Maybe next weekend, though. The rest of the stuff is in the back seat," she adds. "In those plastic sacks. All of it." She taps impatiently at the steering wheel and looks away.<br/>
<br/>
So with a sigh you open the door to the back seat and pull out four plastic sacks that clank and knock against each other. The book, you notice, is in one of them, along with the mask. "Remember," Cindy warns you again, "don't do <i>anything</i> without me!"<br/>
<br/>
You step back out of her way as with a frown she wheels the car around and bounces back out onto the street.<br/>
<br/>
But you being you, naturally you manage to do something with the mask despite Cindy's very clear instructions.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It all happened because Jenny talked to Yumi Saito. Yumi is another cheerleader, and a friend of both girls, and though Yumi isn't one of <i>your</i> friends, particularly, she is at least friendly-ish to you. Still, it was a surprise when she texted to ask what you were doing, and invited you to meet her at the Sonic Drive-In for some takeout.<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny tells me you've started hanging out with Cindy," she explains with a mischievous smile after she's settled into your truck with you. She beat you out there and is already sipping on a drink while you wait for your own order to be brought out. "What's the deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"Extracurricular project?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?" Yumi's eyebrows go up. "Jenny said it was on account of some prank Carson is pulling on Seth." You must have flinched, for she says, "That's it, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you calling Jenny a liar?"<br/>
<br/>
The accusation leaves you reeling. "Because," Yumi continues, "it sounds to me like you're setting yourself up for a real shit storm. You do <i>not</i> want to get mixed up with Carson and James and their fuckery."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like that!"<br/>
<br/>
Yumi plays with her straw. "You would tell me, wouldn't you, Will? As a friend who cares about you and doesn't want to see the front of your skull caved in?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not—! What did Jenny tell you?"<br/>
<br/>
Yumi's version of the story is, technically, factually, correct, but she and Jenny have managed to put the worst possible spin on it. Carson (Yumi tells you) was planning to use an old book to get Seth into trouble, but Cindy got to it first. "It sounds to me like you're still trying to use that book to get Seth into trouble." Yumi  fixes you with a very hard and sharp look, and sucks her limeade down until the straw squeaks and burps.<br/>
<br/>
You flush. "Can't Cindy be interested in the book? It's old and kind of ... funny. And she wanted to talk to me 'cos I'm the one who—"<br/>
<br/>
"What's so interesting about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a, uh, a book of— about— magic," you stammer, and redden.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi's eyebrows go up. "You mean like tricks with playing cards? Pulling rabbits out of—?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Well, um, more old-fashioned than that. It's more like"—you squirm under Yumi's skeptical stare—"like ... old occult stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
Her eyebrows go even higher. "You mean like witchcraft?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well—"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what Carson told you to tell her? Because I don't see—"<br/>
<br/>
"Carson didn't tell me anything!"<br/>
<br/>
"—I don't see Cindy being into that kind of stuff. Will." Her expression lowers into a soft glare. "I'm trying to help you here."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, it's got like arts and crafts stuff in it. I think that's what's got her interested. Arts and crafts projects."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. Then—and knowing even at that moment it was a mistake—you pull the mask from the bag that Cindy wrapped it in, for you haven't moved the stuff out of your truck yet. "Like this. Pretty, isn't it?" you add with some sarcasm. Then you cry "Hey!" as Yumi yanks it from you.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, is this that thing?" she says as she turns it around in her hands. "Jenny was telling me about it. Cindy made it? Jenny said—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, give it here, it's fragile." You reach for it.<br/>
<br/>
But you're too late. Yumi has pushed the mask onto her face.<br/>
<br/>
And you get to go through the same thing that Cindy got to go through with Jenny, as Yumi topples over unconscious into your lap.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At least Cindy's story cautioned you what to expect, so you don't freak out, not even when the carhop trots out with a bag of food for you. You pay for it and munch down your hamburger in silence while Yumi sprawls on the truck bench next to you. You at least have the wit to keep track of the time. It's about ten minutes before, with an anticipatory soft glow, the mask reappears on Yumi's face.<br/>
<br/>
She's a little ticked at you after she wakes, even after you make up a bullshit story about how she must have "cut off the flow of oxygen" by putting the mask too close to her face.<br/>
<br/>
"You just watch yourself, Will," she tells you as springs out of your truck. "You don't want Seth catching you with Cindy. And if you're fucking around with Cindy 'cos Carson put you up to it, you are all of you going to wish your mothers never met your fathers!" She slams the door shut.<br/>
<br/>
And yet, somehow, the mishap has left you in a philosophical mood, and when you get home you figure that you might as well be hung for stealing a sheep as stealing a lamb, and out in your garage you set up a makeshift work table and set about executing the next spell in the book. Cindy warned you that the first spell made an awful stink, but even though it uses the same ingredients that the first spell used (and which she provided to you), you don't set off any bad odors. The result is a bowl filled with a thin slurry, and when you lift the bowl from the book—the spell requires that the bowl be set on the wheel-like sigil that takes up the bottom half of the page—the page underneath comes loose. Like the previous spell, the front of the page only contains instructions, but the reverse tells you that this paste, if applied to the interior of a mask, will seal it up, allowing it to be worn.<br/>
<br/>
You study the mask before doing anything else. It still contains a face, but it isn't Jenny's face anymore. Nor is it Yumi's. If anything, to the extent you can make it out, it looks like something in between.</span></div></div>


path: 114131113
author_id: seuzz
title: The Price of Progress
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>With the help of an online translator, it takes only a quick perusal for you to establish that you don't have the stuff on hand to execute the next spell. A deeper search online convinces you that you don't have enough money for the necessary items, either.<br/>
<br/>
But you've got a week before you'll see Cindy again, so as you've already violated her instructions (first by accident, with Yumi, and then intentionally) you decide to press on.<br/>
<br/>
First, though, you'll have to get some more money.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey," you murmur to Caleb when you find him at his locker before classes on Monday. You bump up close to him. "For twenty bucks I'll tell you all about the date I had with Cindy Vredenburg last weekend."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb does a double take at you, then snorts. "I'm not paying you nothing to listen to your wet dreams," he says. "'Specially not when I'm having knock-out wet dreams of my own."<br/>
<br/>
"No, this is for real. We—"<br/>
<br/>
"Any 'real date' you had with Cindy isn't worth twenty cents, let alone twenty dollars. I will, though," he adds after giving you a speculative glance-over, "give you twenty dollars if you let me watch while you go tell Seth about the last wet dream you had about his girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
Now you snort. But then you catch yourself. "For two hundred I will."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb gives you a look. "No you wouldn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, maybe you're right. But for two bucks I'll tell you about our study date."<br/>
<br/>
"Will," Caleb says with a sigh, "if you need the money, take that job at Salopek that your dad is holding back for you and which you're <i>too fucking much of a slime</i> to recommend me for." He pushes backward into the crowd surging through the hallways.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Keith too is unwilling to purchase a recital of your study date with Cindy, and even ostentatiously launches himself from his desk and plops himself in a chair on the opposite side of room, telling you that you're not even safe to sit next to if you're going to be spreading stories like that. (But then Mr. Hawks, who maintains a seating chart, makes him move back.) But someone must have been talking about it, because as you're leaving English class for lunch, a strong arm wraps itself around your neck, and you're wrenched onto a different tack.<br/>
<br/>
But it's not Seth or one of his friends, though that of course was your first, panicked expectation. It's only Carson Ioeger. "Let's you and me lunch, Prescott," he says. "Where do you like to hang out when you're not eating with James and me?"<br/>
<br/>
You lead him back behind the school, to the corner between G wing, the baseball fields, and the tennis courts, where you and Caleb and Keith typically hang out. He texts James your location, and waves your own friends away when they shamble up to join you.<br/>
<br/>
"I hear you're doing some deep, undercover intelligence work," Carson tells you after James has joined you, and you've all got your lunch bags open and the food spread out between the three of you. "What's your plan?"<br/>
<br/>
"Undercover work? What are you talking about?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"You have <i>insinuated</i> yourself into the company of Cindy Vredenburg," Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I had a study date with her, sort of," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, I understand that's the cover story you've settled on," Carson leans forward, peering at you over carefully steepled fingers. "What is the actual nature of the operation?"<br/>
<br/>
You look between him and James, hoping to see some kind of laugh pass between them. But though James gives you a dark and skeptical look, he remains as seemingly grave as his friend.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you going on about?" you demand. "I just had a kind of study date with her last weekend. That stupid book you fucked up with. She wanted to ask me—"<br/>
<br/>
"But you spent some time together, and—"<br/>
<br/>
"So we spent some time together! Jeez! We met for coffee, and—"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>told</i> you," James tells Carson, "that it's a big fat cow flop."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" you ask. "What are you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"He hasn't got the imagination," James continues.<br/>
<br/>
"But we do," Carson tells him. "Prescott," he says, "how would you like to do the Lord's work and strike a blow for justice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" You get now what this is about. "Fuck, <i>no!</i> You guy's aren't going to—"<br/>
<br/>
But then you catch yourself, and glance between them. You can hardly believe it when you hear the words coming out of your mouth. "How much?"<br/>
<br/>
"How much what?"<br/>
<br/>
"How much will you pay me to do the bullshit thing that you want me to do? 'Cos I'm not getting into it otherwise."<br/>
<br/>
Carson and James exchange a look.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Prescott," Carson says, "if you're gonna be fucking mercenary—"<br/>
<br/>
"You bet your fucking ass I'm gonna be mer—! Whatever you said. I want money! Dollars! Guilders!" You put out your palm. "That's the only way I'm risking my ass for—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, how much?"<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. "You tell me the plan, and I'll tell you how much it's— No! You tell me how much it's worth to <i>you,</i> cocksucker! Then you tell me the plan, and I'll tell you how much it's worth to <i>me</i> to—"<br/>
<br/>
James cusses and clambers to his feet. But Carson grabs his arm and hauls him back down.<br/>
<br/>
"Thirty—" Carson starts to say.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck no!"<br/>
<br/>
"Apiece, from me and James—"<br/>
<br/>
"Go fuck yourself!"<br/>
<br/>
"You won't get in any trouble!"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell that to Tilley! You know that Seth took his pants off him, then put him on the roof of the school because he thought that <i>Keith</i> was the one that glued his books together. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because Tilley's a victim. Are <i>you</i> a victim?"<br/>
<br/>
You clap your mouth shut and fume.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, a hundred," Carson says. "A hundred plus the apprenticeship you gain by studying with the <i>sensai</i>"—he lifts his hand for a high-five, which James gives him—"for your no-risk participation in a blow for cosmic justice."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "So what's the scheme this time?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You settle for a price of a hundred and twenty, half paid up front. Between that and the stash of old birthday and holiday money you have at home, it gives you enough to swing getting the stuff for the next spell, and you go shopping after school lets out.<br/>
<br/>
It's tedious work once you get down to it. The spell requires you to cut a metal strip and to do something with it and some mirrors inside a sigil, including carving some rune work into it. The first set of runes go on fine, but you find that that the second set—which will complete the spell when they've been dug into the treated metal—are much hard to get in, so that you have to spend several hours scraping and digging into the strip with a steel-nib pen before the runes finally "take" without fading away again. By your bedtime though—and it would have been faster if didn't have homework to do as well—you are able to lay the newly made strip across the page of the book, and when you lift it the page comes away as well.<br/>
<br/>
On the reverse is a single sentence.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I think it copies the mind," you explain to Cindy the next day. "You know, the way the mask copies someone's body, this one—"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus Christ!" she hisses as she snatches the metal band away from you. "I thought I freaking told you not to <i>do anything else!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "I was bored."<br/>
<br/>
No, that's not true, and you hastily give her a lengthy addendum. Cindy has a haggard look on her face by the time you finish telling her about meeting Yumi, and about the other things that have occurred since you parted last Sunday.<br/>
<br/>
It's after school, and Cindy should be inside the gym watching her boyfriend and the rest of the basketball team at practice. That's where you found her when you went looking. She was sitting by herself up in the bleachers, and to catch her eye you had to mount the bleachers on the other side, to sit a few rows behind a different cluster of cheerleaders. You squirmed there until you were sure that Cindy understood that you wanted to see her, then exited. A few minutes later, she joined you outside the gym, and followed you around to the student parking lot. It's a very public area, but for that reason it should look like you just bumped into each other.<br/>
<br/>
"Just give me the stuff back," she growls at you. "Jesus, I can't fucking trust—"<br/>
<br/>
"I got it in my truck," you tell her. "And I figured you'd want it back because I'm, uh, untrustworthy. You sure don't want me doing the next spell in the book."<br/>
<br/>
She catches her breath. "Why, what does it do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. But it calls for four hundred pounds of dirt from a graveyard."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes pop. "No! Shit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I don't think either of us want to get into that, even if we had a place to put it. It also needs a lot of rocket fuel and some matches."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy bites her lip and looks around the parking lot. "I need to go back in," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want to get the stuff back from me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you keep it. The stuff is creepy enough I don't want anything to do with it. I'll talk to you about it later."<br/>
<br/>
Not until she's gone do you realize that she accidentally walked off with the metal strip you made last night. </span></div></div>


