# chapters

path: 113122112111211111223132213323213331
author_id: rugal
title: An Easy Place to Do It
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a choice that you have to give a little bit of thought too. However, as you idle away through cheerleading practice making sure to tune out Chelsea's golem and the rest of the classes that make up the first half of her day you realize that it's not actually all that hard of a choice.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi and Mimi share a class so all you have to do is invite her out somewhere and slip a mask on her. Granted you're sure that if Yumi came calling for Daniela or Shelly they'd come running too. The issue though is that you wouldn't even have the first clue of who to approach to make sure word gets to them. Maybe Mimi or one of the other freshmen in the orchestra but you don't know who they interact with. You also worry that a popular senior wanting to talk to freshman might actually be too intimidating and besides what pretext would you even be able to invent in order for a summons to make sense?<br/>
<br/>
Getting Mimi however is much more simple as the violas and second violins sit next to one another and Yumi has at least talked to her a few times, largely in brief exchanges to compliment one another on each others' playing. All you'd really have to do is think of some manner of orchestra business and you'd likely be able to get her alone.<br/>
<br/>
With the dilemma solved you wait for the bell to ring and when it finally does you whip your phone out at lightning speed and begin shooting off a series of texts to Jenny informing her that you'll be late to lunch and might even have to miss entirely. This leads to a flurry of texts in return wondering what's going on. You're able to improvise an excuse that she thinks is bullshit though because she figures it's just Chelsea leading everyone on and not because of you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>shell prob do the opposite,</i> is the text she sends. You concur but say that it's best to go along with it after everything that's happened. You tell Jenny to pass word on to Lin since she'll be able to get it to what's left of the squad. You then make your way to the gym making sure to pay no mind to any of the students in the various P.E. classes as you've long since gotten used to the gawking that comes from them, especially the boys, as you make your way towards the loft.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh Will, I'm so sorry!"<br/>
<br/>
Those are the first words out of Chen's mouth as you shut the door to the loft behind you. You notice him holding what you assume is a mask as he stands over the behemoth of a statue that is the basketball team's captain. "What do you have to be sorry about?" you ask with a smile as you make your way over to him. "You've even gotten started early which is great! I'll just take the mask off so--"<br/>
<br/>
"No!" he replies forcefully as the mask clatters to the floor and he grabs you by your wrists. "You can't."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't what?" you ask with suspicion. "I need to use my hair if you're going to give me Gordon's mask."<br/>
<br/>
Chen releases your wrists turns to pick up the mask with a groan. "That's the problem," he says as he grabs it and then hands it to you. "Take a look at it."<br/>
<br/>
You look it over and can, of course, make out the vaguely holographic features of Gordon and the name <i>Gordon Gerald Black</i> that floats on the backside of the mask. It's even a nice gray color... that stops you dead in your tracks. Gray? It should be blue, right? You look at the inside again and sure enough it's gray. The same kind of gray as if... "Uh, did you grab my hair at some point?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Not <i>your</i> hair but we already used mine to coat it, remember?" he says as he buries his face in his palm. "I guess with everything else that's happened I just forgot about it." His shoulders slump in dejection. "I'm sorry. I should've thought before promising you anything."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't really have anything to be sorry about," you say as clasp one hand with yours and use the other to pull his own hand away from as face and clasp it as well. "I mean it's Gordon! The fact you'd even consider it..." You stop because you suddenly are feeling very hot but you power through it. "Besides I forgot about it too. Look we'll find another solution, okay? It's not a big deal, we can worry about it after I'm set up in my second mask."<br/>
<br/>
He nods but can only mutter out a "yeah" before speaking a little more firmly. "So do you have someone picked out?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I do," you nod, "but you'll have to wait to find out who. I want to surprise you."<br/>
<br/>
"The fact you're becoming a freshman is surprising enough," he says and you notice his mood seems to be perking up now. "So when do you want to get set up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow maybe?" you say. "I've still got to make another mask and--" you stop as he hands you a bag. You take a peek inside and see supplies: a band, the sealant, stuff to treat the mask with... and one brilliantly blue mask. "How'd you--"<br/>
<br/>
"I've had some free time under Gary's mask so I made up some extras," he waves off your question. "I promised you at the start of all of this that you'd get another identity so I figured it was probably best to have something made up already."<br/>
<br/>
"Well that makes it a lot easier then," you reply. "Alright then I'll have things set up by later this afternoon, maybe by evening if for some reason it takes longer than expected. Let me get the key to this place?"<br/>
<br/>
"What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Easiest place to do it I guess," you say before laughing at your unintentional double entendre. "Okay not like that but... you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine I guess," says Chen as he fumbles around in Gordon's shorts pocket before finding his keys. He manages to get the loft key off and hands it to you. "Give it back to me when you're done," he says and gets a thoughtful look. "I'll get a copy made for you. That'll make things a lot easier."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," you reply as you drop the key into your bag. "Also you need to tell the Chelseabot to talk to the other squad members throughout the day."<br/>
<br/>
"Why's that?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I had to get Jenny off my back since she thought I was coming up here to fuck you," you explain. "I gave her an excuse about you asking for input from the others regarding people to look out for at tryouts and who to get for the JV squad. It's probably a good idea to placate them."<br/>
<br/>
"They probably already think it's a sham anyway," he replies and you shrug. "But sure I'll tell her. More importantly though..." He pulls you in close and his look is absolutely lascivious.<br/>
<br/>
"Not in the middle of the afternoon," you lightly admonish him though you can't help letting out a giggle as you say it. Thankfully he doesn't press the issue of going all the way any farther but you don't really object when he undoes the button of your shorts and slips his hand down into your panties either.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You can hear me, right Yumi?" you ask in a voice that, while still plenty intelligible, is still noticeably accented. Of course all Yumi can do is nod. "And you have to do everything I say don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Yumi nods this time more reluctantly and with greater confusion. You can understand why she'd be confused: why <i>does</i> she have to take orders from some punk freshman? Instinctively she knows why but it's probably hard for the girl's mind to come to grips with the golem's own instinctual knowledge right now. But you know she'll get used to it and you should probably get that process going.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, well, get dressed and go do... whatever," you tell her. "Whatever it is you'd normally do. Hang out with your friends or something."<br/>
<br/>
She wants to talk back but she must still be in disbelief because all she can do is stare at you. <i>"The nerve of this kid,"</i> is probably what she's thinking but she doesn't vocalize it and instead does as she's told.<br/>
<br/>
You giggle with excitement once she does leave.<br/>
<br/>
Getting Mimi to come with you had been easy. All you'd had to do is tell her that you wanted to talk to her one on one without really thinking of much of an excuse. Mimi's far more aware of Yumi than the latter is of her so she was hopeful, her mind tells you, that maybe this meant being taken under Yumi's wing because Yumi's cool, pretty, confident, popular and Asian so how could Mimi <i>not</i> feel a sense of awe when looking at her? Mimi didn't even say anything when you brought her up to the loft since it's not like she has any idea about the reputation it holds.<br/>
<br/>
Actually she's not aware of a lot of things girls her age are aware of. Her parents are... you wouldn't say they're strict in the sense that they give her no freedom. But they have expectations and if the strictness isn't explicit then it's certainly implicit. Playing the viola? Certainly Mimi likes to do it but she knows how disappointed her parents would be if she didn't. She's been working on her studies too in order to take better classes next year. She likes having a goal to set but her parents certainly grumbled at her class choices upon entering high school.<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't know much of makeup or fashion. Of the former she wears little of the latter her clothes are largely simple dresses that look nice but grab no attention. It's a good thing she's naturally cute because Mimi will often lament to herself about not having the fashionable looks of friends like Caitlyn Smart or the elegance of Taylor Smith and feels asking for their help would be too awkward.<br/>
<br/>
She has even less experience with boys. Around them she feels even more awkward than she does around the girls. But she does notice them especially... you squeak with anticipation. You wouldn't say Mimi has a crush on Gary Chen but his rebellious manner draws her attention and at times she wonders what it would be like to have that same attitude? The fact he's not altogether unattractive either...<br/>
<br/>
Well he'll be coming up here in just a few minutes. While he'd certainly be surprised to see you now but maybe you should let Mimi start getting experienced and give Chen a <i>real</i> surprise.</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133232133311
author_id: rugal
title: The Experienced Inexperienced Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You search among Mimi's things before finally finding her phone inside of her bag. You're thankful that for the time being you've still got enough of Yumi imprinted onto you that you're able to remember Chen's number and send a text out telling him that you've made the switch. He tells you in return to give him ten or fifteen minutes to get there and you hear nothing else from him. You're excited for Chen, for Chelsea, to see your new identity in the place where everything started two weeks ago: in the so-called Fuck Room.<br/>
<br/>
The place where a select few get to come up here and do whatever it is they want. Gordon and Chelsea if they want private time you figure. Patterson when he's with whatever this week's girl is you assume. It's dingy and musty and a funk of sweat and other bodily fluids fills your nose. Physically you want to gag a bit because it's certainly no smell that Mimi Lee has ever encountered but mentally you can restrain yourself because it's one you've since gotten used to.<br/>
<br/>
And the part of your mind that shares space with this girl's is amazed and nervous. <i>So that's what this place is? That's... oh! Should I even be here? I should probably get out of here,</i> is the line of thought and instinctively you go to the pile of clothes. You grab a pair of underwear and stop to look at it. Should you even put it on? What's the point? Chen's you're boyfriend after all... okay well technically he's Yumi's boyfriend but you're Yumi too when you want to be so it still counts right?<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe Chelsea is your girlfriend. But is she really a girlfriend if she's doing it from under the face of a guy? Would she even consider the two of you partners? Oh you're partners alright but are you <i>partners</i>? The two of you have gotten intimate with increasing frequency under your guises but is that because of a real link between you or because you have to play the roles to keep up appearances? There's one way to find out you suppose so you toss the underwear back down but you do take the sleeveless blue dress and slip it on over your head.<br/>
<br/>
Yeah you want to surprise your partner and they'll be in for a big one when you take the lead in using the Fuck Room for its intended purpose. That elicits a response from Mimi's personality of shock and surprise and nerves. She's obviously never been with a boy; she can't even really talk to them! And besides she's a freshman and Chen's a senior and there's probably all kinds of rules against relationships like that but, oh, there's a girl in one of her classes dating a senior or so she's heard from others so maybe it's not that frowned upon right?<br/>
<br/>
You're able to calm yourself down and move away from those thoughts but the nervous anticipation doesn't really abate and all you're able to do is to pace impatiently around the room and occasionally check the door for any sign -- a sound or the knob turning or something -- of it opening. With further impatience you check your phone and then groan.<br/>
<br/>
It hasn't even been five minutes since the last text.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Without much to do you take a seat and use Mimi's phone to look through her social media. No messages from anyone yet asking how things are going with Yumi but you can tell that she didn't tell them either or likely didn't get the chance to. You'd invited the real girl out here near the end of eighth and you weren't long in getting the mask on her so she never was able to get the word out nor was there ever a chance for word to spread.<br/>
<br/>
You do see pictures of her hanging out, at the mall or at her home or other homes, with some girls though so she does have friends but when you look up some of those friends' accounts the pictures are more varied in location and people, some of them even with boys! You also see one of Caitlyn and Willa McBride with Morgan Nemeth who's one of the more popular girls in the freshman class but isn't the snob that Addison Ricci and Zoe Tremont are. In comparison while Mimi associates with a number of people they come off as a much smaller and much more insignificant.<br/>
<br/>
But there's pictures of Mimi and her violin and pictures of her during a performance and generally pictures of her engaged in the types of activities her parents push and hint at her. It actually has you feeling a bit down and wondering if you didn't make a mistake when finally you hear the sound of the doorknob and look up to see the door swing open. You've never been happier to see Gary Chen in your life.<br/>
<br/>
"Gary!" exclaim as you bolt to your feet, charge and practically leap into his arms. He doesn't even have time to react before you've brought your face up to his and begun pressing his mouth against yours. Mimi of course has no idea what's going on or what to do and you're even more grateful that Yumi's still imprinted strongly on your psyche too because you're about to need every last bit of experience she's been gaining in more intimate affairs.<br/>
<br/>
You melt as his tongue probes your own and from Mimi's mind to that confusion is now added feelings of contentment, of joy... of lust. You're finally able to pull yourself away and before he can even say anything you dash past him, close the door and lock it before turning around.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay what the fuck was that about?" he asks less in anger and more in confusion. He turns to face you and you can only shyly smile at him in return. He stares at you hard and his face gets a thoughtful expression. "That you?" he finally asks after a moment of thinking.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think?" you ask with a giggle.<br/>
<br/>
"I think that I have no idea who she is," comes the reply which, for some reason, hits you like a punch to the gut.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't... how!?" you exclaim in stunned confusion. "Mee-Kyong Lee? Mimi?" That leads only to a further blank stare. "She sits a few seats over with us in orchestra, with the other second violinists." Still nothing on his part. "She's a freshman. You know, the type of person I decided I was going to be."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, right, that freshman girl," he replies but it's wholly unconvincing and part of your heart sinks at that.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure why it should however because Chen hasn't spoken a word to Mimi in class and you wonder if he's even looked in her direction. But still you feel yourself getting hot, especially when he speaks again. "So you've got a place picked out for me?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all you care about?" you ask in return and it comes out more wounded sounding than you intended. "I'll get you in another girl soon enough but, um..." You feel your face heat up and you're feeling much more shy about this than you had been over the last week. "I kind of want you in... in <i>this</i> girl," you say as you point to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Inside... huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me!" you exclaim, practically shout in frustration. "I want you to f--to make love to me!"<br/>
<br/>
He eyes you with a bit of surprise, maybe because he's usually the one to take initiative. "Right now?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, when I'm back at Mimi's," you say, your words dripping with sarcastic venom.<br/>
<br/>
"She's a freshman," he says. "Maybe if I was a freshman too..."<br/>
<br/>
"There's a freshman dating a senior right now," you state in a huff. "Look you didn't have an issue before!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well that's because Yumi's not a freshman and I mean... does that girl even know what she's doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you sheepishly admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Well Gary likes a girl with some experience," he states.<br/>
<br/>
But that riles you up once more. "I still have it," you say pointing to your head. "Yumi's... there's like an imprint of her that's still there for right now so what <i>she</i> knows..."<br/>
<br/>
You walk to him and with one small, dainty hand unzip his pants and fish around inside his jeans and boxers slowly and gently massaging his cock the same way you might've done when you were Yumi. As it gets harder your hand wraps around it and begins working it with practiced strokes. As you work Chen grabs your arm and removes your hand from his pants and you're taken aback thinking this is the end of it.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, however he merely unbuttons and removes them and his boots and then the rest of his clothes. You keep the dress on but do lift it enough to show him you're going commando. He sweeps you up and lays you down and his engorged member is soon inside of you and thrusting away. It's tight and it even hurts a bit. At times he stops and responds to your squeaks and squeals but you tell him to keep going. Your experience with Yumi's body, Yumi's own mind, they're big helps. Mimi's not so much. But you're able to get through it because each of those aspects is glad to be doing it with someone they like.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So maybe Mimi actually does harbor a bit of a crush on Gary Chen though it's because she has an image of him that's more storybook than reality; he's certainly a far cry from the safe bad boy of a John Hughes film. Or he was before Chelsea started running him anyway; under her he falls closer to the archetype. It does drive home the disadvantages being Mimi has though.<br/>
<br/>
She has friends but isn't popular and most of her friendships seem more like good acquaintances than the result of strong bonds. She's incredibly naive as the result of domineering parents and the implicit pressure placed on her so she could stand to do with growing a backbone. She has no boyfriend, nobody you could put Chelsea in so the two of you could continue a relationship in your new guises.<br/>
<br/>
But you do need to find a place for her and you've now got at least a scope of where to look. There are popular and friendly girls in the freshman class and even among the upper classmen who may do well in helping you increase her popularity. There's rebellious girls everywhere who can help grow the spine you think she needs.<br/>
<br/>
And boys? As you nuzzle against Chen and steal a kiss from him a thought occurs to you. Why does Yumi have to be his girlfriend? If there's a senior dating a freshman then couldn't Mimi be Chen's new girlfriend?</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332321333113
author_id: rugal
title: Fantasies and Realities
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You realize laying here that you want to stay like this. Sure Mimi's mind is pulling you this way and that as it's a chaotic mess, the mental version of that ball of dusty and flailing limbs you'd see in a cartoon, as she was able to finally get with someone but it's not even due to that. You realize that by "this" you don't mean as Mimi wanting a relationship with Chen or another boy as Chelsea and yourself play roles. No, you realize you want a relationship with <i>Chelsea</i>.<br/>
<br/>
It's all rather crazy to think about. A couple of weeks ago Chelsea likely had little to no idea you'd even existed. Then she saw some use out of you in trying to help her with this book to free her boyfriend from his statue imprisonment. Then she wanted you to help her in gaining uncontested control of the cheerleading squad and at the same time set up an elaborate scheme that required the two of you to play the role of a romantic couple. But somewhere along the way, because of this secret that you share and the enforced method acting you've both had to to do, the lines of fantasy and reality began to blur and the two of you became an actual romantic couple... right? Well that's how it feels to <i>you</i> at least.<br/>
<br/>
But does she feel the same way? You'd think she does. You'd certainly hope she does. She was willing to move with you down into the freshman class of all places. She was willing to give you control over Gordon. That has to mean something doesn't it? Of course maybe you're overthinking things and there's nothing romantic on her part towards you, after all why would there be? She's only Chelsea Cooper, the most popular and most powerful girl--no, the most popular and powerful student at Westside. She's ambitious, scheming, manipulative and vindictive. You've heard every awful story about her. You've witnessed first hand what Chelsea, when she's completely on, can do to those she sets her sights against.<br/>
<br/>
By every account you should then hate her because she's the type of person who'd step on people like you and your friends. But maybe you and all of them have had it wrong about her the entire time. Those words, they all sound very negative. Maybe she's not ambitious but driven, not scheming and manipulative but calculating, not vindictive but... okay maybe a little vindictive but isn't everybody? The anti-Chelsea group are certainly no angels themselves and if they could've pulled the same stunt on Chelsea they would've. Hell, you'd set up bait for just that on Chelsea's behalf and they took it. Maybe she's all of those things because she has to be.<br/>
<br/>
But you feel like you've seen a different side of her and it's a side you want to continue seeing; a side that she'll only show to you and nobody else. It's a side that you can't see if she's merely a friend of your current guise. No to do that she needs a specific guise herself and what better one than what she has right now?<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, so I was thinking," you tell her as you lay there with butterflies flitting about your stomach, "maybe I don't need to find you another identity. Maybe you don't need to become a freshman with me."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm?" comes the inquisitive noise. "What's that supposed to mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"It means that you stay as Chen and you become my--Mimi's boyfriend," you state matter-of-factly.<br/>
<br/>
"That I... huh?" Chen asks and he sits up quickly. His eyes stare down at you and offer a mixture of skepticism and confusion. "But we've already got it set up so that Gary's dating Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
"That's why you break up with her," you tell him. "You tell her that it was fun and that it isn't going to work out. Then Chen and Mimi can hook up. It'd probably help Yumi too because the relationship's been putting a strain on the ones between her and her friends."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care about helping Yumi, Will," she bluntly states. "I cared when you were her because it helped me out and if you were still her I'd have reason to care but you're not so I don't."<br/>
<br/>
That hits you like a shot to the gut. "This girl... she likes him," you say. "She likes Chen. She looks at him and she just thinks, well, like he's the cool rebel guy who walks into the orchestra room with a swagger and plays with confidence like he doesn't care about anybody else."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what she thinks?" he replies with a bit of a laugh. "But the two of us, we kind of know that there's more going on right? Like he's not just some TV friendly bad boy or anything."<br/>
<br/>
"I know that but," you pause. "But <i>she</i> doesn't and with you running him..."<br/>
<br/>
"With me running him he's a little better but still," he grunts. "Look I know my reputation and I know what people think but even I have my lines and whether it's you or the real girl I really don't think a naive freshman girl really needs to be getting mixed up with all of the shit that goes on with Gary."<br/>
<br/>
"But it's okay for Yumi to be mixed up with it?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yumi's different. She's a senior and a big girl that can take care of herself," he states. "But this girl's just a freshman. She'd basically be at my, at Gary's, mercy. Like a senior dating a freshman is kind of fucked up right? Especially a guy like Gary and a girl like the one you grabbed."<br/>
<br/>
You can only huff in frustration. Why are you trying to argue against Yumi anyway? You're Yumi! Why is it pissing you off so much then? Probably Mimi's emotions are just very strong right now so you push on. "Well that's the issue. Okay yeah, the girl's naive and doesn't have the most amount of friends and she's kind of a pushover," you say and realize you're not making a compelling case. "But she wants to change all that and if we get into a relationship like this..."<br/>
<br/>
"All it's going to do is cause trouble for everyone," he says dismissively. He stands up and fishes around for his clothes and throws them on as quickly as he can. "Look," he says as he double checks that everything's in place, "I'm serious. It's not a good idea. This girl and Gary? Drop it, okay? If you want a relationship with him that bad go back to being Yumi and we'll find some other spots for you too."<br/>
<br/>
With that he leaves and as you gather up your own things you suddenly feel very annoyed. So as quickly as Chen did you gather up your own things and leave locking the door behind you but not before giving it a hard, ineffective kick in frustration.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Later that evening back at Mimi's house you're busy diving into her homework trying to take your mind off of the frustration of the afternoon when the phone rings and it's to your surprise that you see Chelsea's name. "Hello?" you answer tentatively.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Will!" comes the chipper voice on the other end of the line. Not just Chelsea's phone but Chelsea herself.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you <i>you</i> or just the double?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's me," she answers. "I felt like I kind of needed a break from Gary for a little bit. Actually I wanted to talk to you about earlier too and I figured it might be less awkward if I was myself and not him considering..."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, yeah, sorry about putting you on the spot like that," you apologize. "It's just that I was, you know, overwhelmed by her mind and the hormones and all of that."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," she says and you can tell she doesn't buy it for a second but she pushes past it without further acknowledgment. "Well I was thinking too about what you said about that girl and everything and, like, what was it? She wants a relationship and friends and to grow a spine yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"More or less. In her mind Chen is cool and rebellious and obviously the type of guy who has a lot of friends since he's on the soccer team and all."<br/>
<br/>
"But he's not good for her at all, probably not good enough for anyone really," Chelsea says rather seriously. "But I was thinking though about what you said and if you want I can make another move into someone else. They could probably help out girl like you want to and they'd be a whole hell of a lot of a safer choice for her than Gary."<br/>
<br/>
"That could work," you state. "Who is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It'll be a surprise, just like you surprised me today," she says with a hint of a mischievous tone. "That's if you want to do it of course. I will tell you that they're a senior and while I don't really agree with a senior and a freshman I guess I can make an exception because this person would basically get me deep into a group I've been eyeing. They're too useful."<br/>
<br/>
"So you'll do it if it helps you out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course!" she chirps. "But if that doesn't work then there has to be someone in the freshman class we can use too. Someone that'll put me in a good position and help you out at the same time. If you find someone like that and would rather do <i>that</i> just let me know. Text me tomorrow, I'll be myself so just use my number... just don't say anything that could look weird if someone somehow gets my phone or something."<br/>
<br/>
With that the line goes dead. So Chelsea's willing to surprise you with a senior that fits all the requirements you had regarding Chen and keeps you in a relationship with Chelsea? You don't know who it is but you kind of don't care either because the idea of staying with Chelsea... maybe she does feel the same if she's willing to stick to a romantic relationship! But she is right in that a senior and a freshman might be awkward so maybe there's names among the freshmen you can use as well like she suggested.<br/>
<br/>
But then the whole thing has become complicated as is with all of these shifting identities. What she said earlier is also still in your head: maybe you should just abandon Mimi, forget the whole thing and go back to being Yumi.</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323213333
title: The Wanna be Witch
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Its only 4th period, less than 2 hours since you've become a whole different person and you're already shaking. You're shaking not because you are scared or nervous being in the small 5 foot 4 inch 102 pound freshman girl's body, but because of the vast excitement in your new ADHD filled mind of your new body that seems to be running a mile a minute. <br/>
<br/>
"MAGIC IS REAL, MAGIC IS REAL, MAGIC IS FREAKIN REAL!" is what your mind is blaring out at you from inside your head, not your original mind but the mind of Shelly Nolan's, which is now part of your mind. As you sit in Mr.Parker's math class barely able to take notes in your Harry Potter 3-ringed binder, you fiddle the pencil in your fingers tapping the eraser on the paper eagerly. You study your now pale and freckled arm and wonder how you even got here. Just 2 hours ago you weren't Shelly Nolan you were the senior Westside student Yumi Saito, the girlfriend of Gary Chen who less than week ago was actually the senior head cheerleader of Westside Chelsey Cooper, and before you were his girlfriend you were actually the senior Will Prescott. A boy who discovered a real life magic tome that was able to create magical masks. <br/>
<br/>
Stuff like this doesn't happen in the real world... but it does because "MAGIC IS FREAKIN REAL!" your mind blares. <br/>
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You realize your left leg is now shaking madly under the table and your pink vans are making a soft but annoying squeaking noise, that you quickly have to stop in case of interrupting the class lesson. Of course you don't have to be as excited as you are, after all you've known magic existed for over 2 weeks now, but Shelly has just found this knowledge out and you reveal in her own mind's exhilaration of the knowledge of the existence of magic. <br/>
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When you had awoken in the "fuck room" above the gymnasium less than 2 hours ago as the naked Shelly you knew something was different than your previous awakening as the Japanese Yumi, You had awoken alone without any sign of Chen but the golem of Yumi standing over you who hide the real Shelly inside, you let out a small squeak at the girl standing above your naked cold body, before realizing you were really Will Prescott and had ordered the Yumi golem to act normal and to leave. When you were alone did you finally realize the deep introspective nature of your new freshman mind. <br/>
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Embarrassed you quickly reached for the neat pile of folded clothes that now belonged to your new freshman body. You quickly donned her white panties and bra, then pulled on her high waisted denim shorts and  the Westside High T-shirt she had gotten on her first day of class. Then short socks and the pink vans. You had then rummaged around in her backpack for a small compact mirror and makeup set, which you had used to study your now freakled face and bright orange hair from within the reflection. Chen had gotten the mask of Shelly for the swap so this was the first time you saw her face up close. A natural redhead unlike the many other dyed red heads of Westside High, your crotch had even confirmed it with a few wisps of bright red pubic hair. A sudden nervousness than told you that you were running late to math class and that is where you now sat. <br/>
<br/>
Just recalling those thoughts sends goosebumps up your neck and arms. "MAGIC IS REAL!" your mind blares once again. You don't have to be this excited you realize, but its something Shelly has always wanted to discover and confirm for herself ever since she was a little girl. And the shear fact that she (you) now knows it's not only real, but you have the power to manipulate it at will practically sends waves of serration to your brain. <br/>
<br/>
To say Shelly is a big fan of magic, astrology, and the mythos of Happy Potter is an understatement. She is practically obsessed with the Harry Potter books and films, she has read the entire seven books at least nine times over and can quote some scenes from the movies perfectly. Even now you can mentally read one passage in your mind from her particular favorite book, "The Chamber of Secrets". But not only that, she has tons of posters and knick knacks from the films scattered across her room, she dressed up as Ginny Weasley on three different Halloweens, and hopes to get a tattoo of some type relating to the films later in life when she moves out of the house away from her parents disproval. <br/>
<br/>
So its no surprise to you as you feel deep joy from within your mind at the prospect of actually using magic like a real life Witch. Her biggest dream of finally becoming a real life magic user can finally be fulfilled through you and your book. The back of your new mind is almost screaming at you telling you that it was fate that you were supposed to become Shelly to realize and live her biggest dream of becoming a real Witch. <br/>
<br/>
You grin to yourself as tears well up in your eyes at the prospect of telling your new friends Samantha, Jeanne, Eric, and Sara about your discovery of real life magic! But you shake the thoughts from your head. No! You only became Shelly to live a different life as a freshman and to find a place for Chen to move into as well. Not live out one of Shelly's own fantasies, but... you kinda are Shelly now, you think, and this could be a once in a lifetime chance for her (you.)<br/>
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</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133232133331
title: The beginning of the role play
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Its sooo boring in herrrrrre. Tell me why we came in here again?" says Eric Vonce in a monotone voice as he idly plays with a curly lock of your red hair as you look over the Westside library shelves. <br/>
<br/>
"Stop that!" you say annoyed brushing the strands of hair back back behind your left ear, "I'm looking for something." <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah but we've been here almost all of lunch period and I wanted to eaaaaat." Eric moans again making a pouty face. <br/>
<br/>
"So go get something, we're not your mothers you always have to be around." says Samantha Peters who everyone calls Sam. <br/>
<br/>
He sticks his tongue out at her and grabs her small bag of chips from her hand then reaches inside to grab a handful and stuffs them into his mouth. Sam grabs his arm and twists as he makes pig like squeals trying to sound like it hurts him, which makes Sara Frazier giggle from behind her Science text book near her table. <br/>
<br/>
"No horse play in the Library! Unless you want to be kicked out for a month." calls out one of the library staff from the main desk. <br/>
<br/>
"Sorry!" Eric calls back.<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes, you forgot how immature the freshman class was, but of course you're now a freshman too after all. As you've decided to play the role of Shelly Nolan, so you have to mentally stop yourself from viewing them as just a bunch of playful childish young high school freshman, and view them as your best friends in the whole world, the friends you've grown up together with since elementary and middle school.<br/>
<br/>
There's Sam who you've known the longest she's a tomboyish girl with short curly blonde hair who reminds you of a young Stephanie Wyatt a girl in your old senior classes who you knew throughout growing up as Will Prescott. But Sam in not nearly as athletic as Stephanie but still holds a similar look about her in having a curvy but athletic body. While Shelly considers her, her best friend, she doesn't hang out with her as nearly as much as she used to anymore since Sam hangs around with her boyfriend Oliver Crum who is a Sophomore more often than your group of friends these days.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's Eric a skinny boy with brown eyes and short brown hair who hangs around with your friend group since meeting him this year in High School. You and the other girls like joking around behind his back that he is your group's "gay best friend" since he only seems to hang out around girls and barely other guys. But you know he's got a crush on you which he's confessed several times but Shelly's repeatedly told him she only views him as a friend.<br/>
<br/>
Jeanne is the only girl from your main friend group not here, because she is a Sophomore and shares a different lunch period than the freshman classes. She's a dark haired chubby girl who while could lose some weight still tends to have no shortage of guys asking her out.  <br/>
<br/>
Finally there is Sara the "Hermione Granger" of your friend group, Shelly likes to think to herself. Mostly because Sara is a very smart girl who had skipped 6th grade making her only 13 years old and a freshman in high school. Also she is considered very pretty by a lot of people, if Shelly wasn't heterosexual she could see herself having a crush on the girl. Sara has a very cute face, with blue eyes and up turned small nose. She also very petite like yourself but she has long flowing straight light brown hair. How Shelly always envied how straight and natural her hair was, as she would always sit with the straightening iron every morning trying to untangle her natural curly red hair, which tends to get many knots within if she doesn't tend to it each morning. Which is also why you were annoyed with Eric playing with your hair as you remember the real Shelly straightening it this morning but after the swap this afternoon you awoke with it in its naturally curly state.<br/>
<br/>
Your introspection is broken when your phone chines and you quickly pull it out from your denim shorts pocket. You excitedly read the text from the unknown number which you recognize as your old Will Prescott number and look over the text. "Okay I got it and im here where r u?" it reads. <br/>
<br/>
 "Meet @ the back" you reply to your golem over text. <br/>
<br/>
You quickly turn to your friends and say "Be right back, I need to check over there." You say quickly walking away from your new friend group without waiting for their response.<br/>
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Your heart beats faster excitedly again as walk to the back of the library and to the start your own "role play" adventure. Its actually an idea that your Shelly mind had come up with, as she is a real life role player herself from time to time, often dressing up at little events held around the city from time to time and at medieval festivals that come along yearly. <br/>
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Yes, you will be "role playing" but not as a witch or a magician but as the real life Shelly Nolan. Once you get the book from your golem you will no longer think of yourself as Will Prescott simply wearing a Shelly Nolan mask that mimics her every thought, desire, look, and memory. No, you will think of yourself as the real life one and only Shelly Nolan, a girl who stumbles randomly upon an ancient old tome that contains magic which before that moment she had no idea even existed, nor the fact that there's even a boy named Will Prescott even wearing a mask of her, as if she has always been the one and only Shelly Nolan. <br/>
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Its something your Shelly mind had came up with on its own to increase the excitement of becoming a witch among her friend group, without the added disappointment of knowing that this excitement is not coming naturally from your own true Will Prescott mind but rather from your "real" mind. And of course its useful as you don't have to mentally deal with the ethical decision of trapping the real Shelly in a coma like state as the golem of Yumi Saito. But this role play couldn't be perfect as there is still Chelsey/Chen out there able to break it or mess it up, but its something that doesn't concern you at this moment.<br/>
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Finally as you make your way to the back of the library you spot the golem Will. "So you got the book?" you ask. He only nods unzips his backpack and hands you the magical book, which causes goosebumps to prickle along your arms once again. <br/>
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"Thanks, but from this moment on you don't know me, don't know about the book, and you will live the normal life of William Prescott, got it?" you say. He then turns to leave the library.<br/>
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With a huge grin and nervous shaking you practically skip back to your friends as the one and only Shelly Nolan.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332321333311
title: Starting a Freshman Coven
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You run over to your group of friends and slam the spell book down with a heavy thud on the table which Sara is sitting at and smile, "I finally found it!" you say with a grin. <br/>
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"What, did you finally find Shell?" says Sara peering up from her Science text book as your two other friends gather around. <br/>
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"A real life spell book! I always heard the rumors about Westside having a magic tome, but I didn't know it was actually true, nor would I never thought I'd actually find it!" you say excitedly doing small jumping spins in place.<br/>
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"Oh God is this another one of those "enchanted" items you say contain magic like that time you said those gem stones were "magic" in the 4th grade?" says Sam rolling her eyes and holding up two fingers and bending them when she says magic.<br/>
<br/>
" What? No, this is totally different this is actually a magic spell book. And like how was I supposed to know that my birthday present from my aunt wasn't real? They said they were magic gems right on the package." <br/>
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"So you like literally dragged us in here all of lunch period to get this old book?" says Eric  <br/>
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"K, I wouldn't have gone through all that digging if there wasn't an actual spell book here. Duh." you say glaring at Eric<br/>
<br/>
Samantha laughs <br/>
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"Those Harry Pot Head books sure getting to <i>your </i>head aren't they Sea Shell?" says Sam while throws his head back and Eric laughs. You hate when she calls you that.<br/>
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You pick up the book and hold it close to your chest as tears form in your eyes. Your thoughts ring deep. She is always like this! Ever since she got a boyfriend she acts like she's better than me. She never wants to hangout anymore. She doesn't even go to Church either because her boyfriend convinced her to be an Atheist like him, so of course she doesn't believe in magic. <br/>
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"But I know its magic! I don't know how but I do." you say wiping the small amount of tears out of your eyes, "And if you don't want to be part of my coven than fine."<br/>
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"Paaasss." is all she says leaning back in her chair.<br/>
<br/>
"Hold on let me see that book." says Sara as you hand her the book and she flips through the back pages. "All of these pages are blank."<br/>
<br/>
"Yea I know but there's like some stuff in the front I saw and I want to figure it out."<br/>
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Suddenly the bell rings marking the end of lunch period, and Eric moans again about not having eaten. <br/>
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As your two annoying friends leave and wave goodbye you stay with Sara a bit longer as she studies the front pages with writing on them...<br/>
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*************<br/>
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"Mom I'm home!" you say walking in the front door of your <span style="text-decoration:line-through">new</span> old home with Sara right behind you. You catch your same old Mother in the kitchen, "Hey can Sara and some other friends sleepover tonight? Sara's parents already said it was cool if she did." you tell your Mother who just got home from grocery shopping just a few minutes before you got home from school. You live really close to Westside High so its not a long walk from school. "Of course she can but remember..."  you role your eyes, "I know, no boys after 10, I think Eric knows by now." <br/>
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She then bends down to place some frozen food into the freezer and you momentarily catch yourself checking out her ass outlined in her pants, you shake your head of those thoughts, then Sara and you bolt up the stairs excitedly to check out the mysterious spell book in your <span style="text-decoration:line-through">new</span> same old room. <br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323213333111
title: A brand new room just as you remember it.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your friend beats you to your room first and as you walk in after her you are amazed by how "totally like awesome" your new room is.<br/>
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 All seven of the Harry Potter movie posters now take up most of the four corners of the pink walls of your room. A large white book case is in one corner of the room filled with some of your favorite reading material from stand alone novels to the Hunger Games to the Twilight series to various other young adult series. You're now an avid book nerd so you'll have plenty of time to read any of those books. There's an abundance of the color pink and white and sequin material everywhere, to pillows on the windowsill to folders on the white desk, there are dream catchers hanging from the ceiling and from the posts on the corners of the beds. White curtains from the bed are tied to the posts and over hanging canopy above the bed in the middle of the room. The bed itself is covered with big fluffy pillows and various stuffed animals stacked in order and in the middle is the sentimental Mrs.Bun-bun a ridden down stuffed rabbit you've had since when you were two. <br/>
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In the back of your mind you want to puke at how girly everything is, but you shake those thoughts from your mind and continue to marvel at all the small trinkets on your nightstand and desk. Peering over at the opened closet many outfits are now yours but in the back are the costumes you've used for many role playing events and costume parties. On a cork board on one side of the room are various polaroid pictures hung up by pink thumbtacks of you and your family and friends. Looking at each photo brings forth their own unique set of memories of adventures you seemingly have completely forgot about: the time in Disney Land, the time at Niagara Falls, the time you dressed up as... <br/>
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Your friend breaks your concentration "Shelly come look at this!" <br/>
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You shake your head, pull off your backpack and set it on the carpet, slip off your pink vans, and jump on the bed next to her with your legs crossed under you.<br/>
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"So on the way over as I was skimming through the text on the first page and I think I figured out what this first spell is!" says an observant Sara.<br/>
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"Really? What?! Because like I took some time reading it in my last class but stupid Ms.Nelson caught me not taking notes so I had to put it away. But I think its in Latin or something?" you say.<br/>
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She nods, "Yeah I think you're right but the first page has something to do with a spell about masks of identity or something."<br/>
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"And?" <br/>
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She continues "And its like something along the lines of changing your appearance kinda like that one potion in, you know, the Chamber of Secrets where you need hair of a person or something.."<br/>
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"The Polyjuice Potion?" you interject<br/>
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"Yeah! Just like that and supposedly with these Masks you can turn into a whole new person if you wear it."<br/>
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"W.T.F" is all you respond with a bewildered face.<br/>
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"You really think this is actual magic?" she says with whisper<br/>
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"No, but wouldn't that be wicked if it was!" <br/>
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"Where did you say you learned about this book again?" she says laying on her belly with the book in front of her.<br/>
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"Well I was on Tumblr looking at images of spell book decorations ideas for my room, but then like one page came up about <i>real</i> magic spell books and locations of them too, and of all the odds they said one was here right at our freakin High School. So I had to check it out for myself."<br/>
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"Thats kinda creepy actually. I mean randomly finding a page on the internet of our own High School containing a magic book, really weird." she says with a chill.<br/>
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You and her both pause momentarily quietly looking at each other.<br/>
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"But, like okay even though I know this probably is just a bunch of B.S, promise we can only talk about it among us, no other friends and not even our parents," you say extending your pinky finger. <br/>
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She extends her own finger and you both shake. <br/>
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"So are we going to tell Jeanne and Eric too? They probably will be here soon." asks Sara<br/>
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</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133232133331112
title: The new you amongst friends.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So its settled then we'll only tell Jeanne and Eric about these Masking spells, and no one else." you tell your friend.<br/>
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"Okay if you're sure that they are trustworthy enough.. but one thing I don't get about these Masks are..." says Sara before you cut her off. "Hold that thought, because I really got to go. Sorry I've been holding it in since math class." you tell her before heading down the hall to the bathroom.<br/>
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And you really did have to go. You lock the bathroom door and pull down your denim shorts and white cotton underwear and sit down on the toilet and piss. Across from you, you notice your reflection in the mirror and realize how odd it was to be that girl staring back at you in the reflection. So wrapped up in the role play and excitement of magic you've pretty much neglected the fact that you're whole new person. You finish using the toilet, wipe, and flush. Then walk over to the skin and wash your hands. <br/>
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You only got a brief view of your new face in the compact mirror you used for a little bit of makeup after the swap this afternoon, but now you are seeing it for the first time fully up close. Even though you have the very memories of being in this bathroom this very morning of washing your face, straightening your hair, and putting on makeup. Plus you have the memories of doing that very thing for many years before this morning as well, but its different now as that was the old Shelly doing those things, and this is the new Shelly staring back at you from the mirror.<br/>
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Its odd that you had only seen Shelly in a few pictures from Instagram and Facebook yesterday night, but now you've got her hazel eyes staring back at you with her mind and body today. You're pretty cute to say the least, and thats one reason why the idea appealed to you so much last night. You've got a roundish face, a cute pair of lips that make a smirking face when resting, and a large nose but its not off putting in the slightest. Your face is also dusted with freckles that complements your curly bright red hair. An old memory tells you how much you disliked being a "ginger" when you were younger neither your mother, father and younger sister are redheads, but your grandfather was supposedly one? You never did meet him, so you don't know for sure. But being the only redhead in the family you used to think you might have been adopted. But your mother came from Germany and your dad is American Irish so its not a concern any more you realize, plenty of genes to be passed down from.<br/>
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You look at your face and grin in the mirror. "Eww", your teeth could use a good brushing. So you reach for your tooth brush then pause. Is it gross to now use the same tooth brush? You are a bit of a germaphobe now after all. But you just shrug and put some of your peppermint flavored tooth paste on the bristles, and go to work brushing the plague off your teeth. As you do so, you twist and turn examining your body. You like yourself in these short blue denim jeans and green Westside T-Shirt, it goes well with your casual style of clothing. You make a few poses in the mirror with your toothbrush still in your mouth, but you decide nows a good a chance than any to see the new you fully, so stripping out of them into your underwear only makes sense.<br/>
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You are quite paler now thats one thing for sure, and also quite skinny, almost on the too thin of sides, but its not off putting. You still have wide hips so your petiteness isn't bad looking. Your shoulders much like your face and arms are also covered in the light brown freckles. You turn peering over your shoulder at your butt, it looks cute in the underwear, but your chest on the other hand is so flat. Its not uncommon for you to wear push-up bras to hide this fact. And now that you remember it, your body reminds you of your own Will Prescott boy body when he was this age during Freshman year. Skinny and lacking any muscle.<br/>
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But as you continue staring you realize you've really never had someone else as throughly examine or critique your body as you are now. Maybe its because you've never had the guts to get that close with a guy, even to second base, for him to examine your body with clothes? You've always been so dreadfully self conscious thats for sure. But your thoughts of the Will portion of your mind still gives you a bit of a self confidence booast now that he's examining your body and finding it not at all bad looking, or is that just the part of him being a pervert? You can't tell for sure, but off goes your bra and panties as well.  <br/>
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Yeah, you'll definitely be a looker in a few years you notice twisting in the mirror at your nude body. Just as soon as some definition comes into your breasts, its embarrassing having these " mosquito bites" for tits! But if I stay this weight the boys will all be...<br/>
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Suddenly the sound of the door bell rings, and your excitement all comes back. So you spit into the sink, rinse, get dressed, and head down the stairs to greet your arrived friends. <br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332321333311121
author_id: gogostopgogo
title: Swapping bodies with “your” friend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Shelly wake up, Shelly!” <br/>
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You hear as you mumble groggily on your bed then look up to see the body of Shelly Nolan staring right at you, then you glance down to see long straight brown hair covering your green west side high T shirt.<br/>
<br/>
You suddenly sit up with a gasp and look in your vanity mirror and there staring back at you is the mousey 13 year old face of Sara Frazier copying your reflection her deep blue eyes bulging in the mirror almost ready to pop out of their sockets.<br/>
<br/>
 “Oh..My…Gawd….” Is all you say, leaving your Sara mouth wide open in the mirror.<br/>
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 “Shelly I’m…I'm you! And you are me! Shelly… the masks we just made, actually freakin worked! We are in each other’s bodies!” Says Shelly Nolan’s body that actually contains Sara Fraizer’s soul. <br/>
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“Shelly do you know what this means??!” She says jumping up and down on her knees on your bed.<br/>
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“That magic is freakin real!? And that we are real life freakin Witches!” You say matching her enthusiasm as you begin bunching up and down on your bed with her. <br/>
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“Yes you are right! We are real life witches!” You both begin laughing hysterically and embrace in a hug and then laugh some more.<br/>
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 In between laughs Sara manages to say “Shelly, hearing your voice come out of my mouth just makes me laugh even harder!.” <br/>
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“I know right? I feel like we are on drugs or something or dreaming!.” You both laugh and gawk at each other some more and both sit in front of your vanity and makeup mirror playing with your reflections. <br/>
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  Its been 5 minutes since you and Sara had finished making the masks from the instructions in the spell book. Both Jeanne and Eric had cancelled coming over to Shelly’s house putting an end to your coven idea for the moment. However Sara had permission to spend some time over so just the two of you had rumbled around Shelly's house for the ingredients to make the masks. <br/>
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You acted nervous and surprised copying your face onto the mask so you could both become each other. It wasn’t hard to do as you had already made masks before, but you specifically made sure not to mention or make memory bands. You didn’t want Sara finding out you weren’t the real Shelly Nolan after all. <br/>
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Now you both just study each other in the mirror, you pretending to be just as shocked as she is.<br/>
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“Shelly your hair is so beautiful, this is amazing.” She says playing with your red curls. “Haha well don’t get to comfortable I’m going to want it back.” You say with a grin,<br/>
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 “Plus straightening it is a pain in the freakin butt! I really like how naturally straight yours is.” You say grabbing some of your straight shoulder length hair and playing with it in your fingers then shaking it watching it flow like waves like in a Pantene shampoo hair commercial Shelly used to always see on T.V. <br/>
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“Wait, here is a crazy idea, but do you want to be me and I can be you until tomorrow?” You say twisting your body in the mirror. <br/>
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“Hold on, you want to stay like this? As in be each other and live each other’s lives?” Sara says with a shocked looking Shelly Nolan face. <br/>
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“Sure. Just for one day.” You say shrugging, “After all we both know each other’s parents and houses and stuff. We have been friends since 4th grade after all! ” <br/>
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“But that means like being each other, like using the bathroom, and like showering, and like seeing each other naked and stuff.” Sara says with a Shelly like stammer. <br/>
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“Oh well you know me, Shelly the Super lesbian who can’t wait to see her friend naked!” You say in a sarcastic tone, making Sara laugh. <br/>
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“Okay, fine you made your point plus it will be fun being you for a little bit Shelly!”<br/>
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“But my Dad’s going to be here soon to pick me up so we need to change clothes fast.” Sara says, “Just close your eyes.”<br/>
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You had both placed the masks on while clothed so you did have to exchange clothes, so you turn away from her and lift Shelly's green t shirt above your head revealing Sara’s chest. And to your Will amusement as well as Shelly’s Sara's breasts are much larger than Shelly’s. You could feel Shelly’s jealousy of her friend’s assets considering how small her own chest is and the fact that Sara is technically a year younger than her despite being in the same grade.<br/>
<br/>
Despite your Will amusement you hurry stripping off Shelly’s high waist jean shorts, underwear and socks. Then you dawn Sara’s tank top, skirt, and sandals on your Sara body. You turn to see Sara finishing putting on Shelly’s clothes then she opens her eyes once she has fully changed.. <br/>
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Right before you leave you each exchange each others phone’s passwords and you run down and hop into Mr. Fraizer's truck, who you call Dad when you buckle in. Shelly has met him several times so you don’t feel too odd having a small conversation with him.<br/>
<br/>
On your way to Sara’s house you contemplate just how strange your life is at the moment, you have Sara Fraizer’s body, Shelly Nolan’s mind, and William Prescott's soul! How weird your life has gotten since you found the magic spell book.<br/>
<br/>
Thinking of it you reach into Sara’s pink book bag and pull out the spell book. You told Sara you were taking it to her house for the night since it was technically yours. You wonder if you should use the book to create a mind band so you can actually get all of Sara’s memories too. Shelly’s mind is quite curious into all the secrets her friend is hiding from her. But also your Shelly Nolan mind reminds you the real Shelly hasn’t found out about the mind band memory spell yet.<br/>
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You decide to… <span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323213333111212
author_id: gogostopgogo
title: Two girls in each other’s bodies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You decide to leave Sara’s life a surprise, but Shelly knows enough about her friend so you can easily pass as Sara in front of her parents without even needing to use a midband. Sara's room is a bit more comfortable to settle into since Shelly has had many sleepovers in the room before plus the added benefit of Shelly’s excitement on the forefront of your personality. <br/>
<br/>
Your Shelly mind has a lot of fun doing her friends makeup on her face, and styling her hair in the mirror in a way she never seen her friend do before. You also try on a lot of your friend's outfits and absolutely love giving Sara a top to bottom make-over. <br/>
<br/>
Your Shelly mind is having a blast being in her friend’s body but you need to remind your Will mind to stop ogling her friend whenever you are changing undergarments.<br/>
<br/>
You then get a video call from “Shelly” on your phone and answer. <br/>
<br/>
When both your faces come onto the video chat you both laugh hysterically looking at the make-overs you’ve both given each other’s bodies. She’s changed Shelly’s look around just as much as you’ve changed her’s around.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello my fellow witch." You say to Sara using her own voice. <br/>
<br/>
“Oh my gosh Sara your makeup is so beautiful!” Sara says laughing playing around in her Shelly Nolan voice. <br/>
<br/>
After you both discuss how crazy it is being in each other’s bodies and homes, and the excitement and giggles calmed down the conversation turns into what you two will be doing with the masks. <br/>
<br/>
“Shelly you know what this means? If we both can become each other with these masks. Think about what else can we do with these masks. Like we could become billionaire heiresses, actresses, maybe even animals or even boys.”<br/>
<br/>
“Eww I don’t want to be a boy.” You say shaking your head.<br/>
<br/>
 “I know but I’m just saying the possibilities with these masks are potentially endless!” Sara says in Shelly Nolan's excited body on the screen.<br/>
<br/>
“But first we need to learn how to take these masks off.”  Sara says with a sudden look of surprise. “Oh, Em, Gee. Shelly we were so excited in becoming each other we didn’t even see if we could take these masks off. Shelly what if we are permanently stuck as each other?!” She cries.<br/>
<br/>
“Shelly I like being you but I don’t want to be you forever!” Sara suddenly begins tearing up and you are reminded how often Sara suffers from panic attacks and realize she is having one now.<br/>
<br/>
You instantly want to reassure your friend that its easily possible to take off the masks, but you don’t want to give too much away about the masks quite yet. <br/>
<br/>
As she begins sobbing over the video chat you wonder if you should pretend to be stuck in each other’s bodies. It would be kind of a fun experience…<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332322
author_id: seuzz
title: Musical Girls
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There doesn't seem much to say about the girls that Chelsea mentioned. When he suggested them, it was so she could pair one of them with Chen so that you and he could be close enough to pass messages.<br/>
<br/>
But now there's no need to pass messages, and besides, you've got Yumi positioned as Chen's girl.<br/>
<br/>
And yet, for that very reason, these girls might be good choices as a second because, as Chelsea has suggested, you could pair them with a third face as their boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
Or as one of their boyfriends, in the case of Sienna Goldman. She plays in an all-girl punk band, and dresses and acts the part, and has a reputation for sleeping around. She might be a fun one for that reason—and it would be sexy to be a girl in an all-girl punk band—but you'd have to make your third count. Probably a guy who likes to party at the Warehouse. Maybe even a guy who patrols it.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know Susie Lekuawehe at all, but Yumi knows her from Orchestra, where she plays the clarinet, which she also plays in the marching band. She's a pretty girl, and popular, with lots of friends, and you'd have your pick of plausible "thirds" to make her boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
Unless you decided she was living in a closet she could come out of.<br/>
<br/>
Kristina Townes, on the other hand, already comes with her own boyfriend. At least, Yumi has the impression that Kristina is entangled with Parker Stott. They are both part of the marching band color guard, and are a handsome couple, you suppose, in a very preppy way. But you have to wonder why Chelsea mentioned Kristina as a possibility. <br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323221
author_id: rugal
title: When Worlds (and Anatomies) Collide
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're finishing up breakfast the next morning when your phone dings. You wonder who it could be this early and thrill a little when you see the name and the message: <i>i'm here</i>, is all that it says. However it's from Chen so you text him back that you'll be out in a minute. You finish up what little food remains and after cleaning your plate practically fly out the door and into the passenger seat of Chen's waiting Jeep. For once he doesn't need to be the one to initiate anything as you lean over the center and plant a quick smooch on him.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck was that for?" he asks as he pulls out, though his tone and look don't show any sort of annoyance.<br/>
<br/>
"Can't I be happy to see my boyfriend?" you ask in return. Your tone though does convey some annoyance albeit a playful annoyance but nothing is said after that as both of you go silent.<br/>
<br/>
In actuality it's not like you're happy to see Chen specifically; Chelsea could show up in any number of guises and you suspect you'd feel the same. She could show up as herself and you'd want to plant a kiss on her despite Yumi's own loathing of Chelsea and leaning far away from anything sapphic. Because it's not Gary Chen that's getting your heart to flutter but the person wearing his face.<br/>
<br/>
In a way it's frustrating. All the stories about Chelsea Cooper being manipulative, vindictive and self-interested? Those are certainly true. After all she's gotten you to go along in a scheme that's resulted in her gaining virtually incontestable control of the cheerleading squad. She's certainly helped herself but she's also helped you as well. Even if you wound up here because it would benefit her you <i>like</i> being Yumi. You like being attractive and popular, smart and talented.<br/>
<br/>
You like being in on a secret that only you and Chelsea share.<br/>
<br/>
You like Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
Through all of this, Chelsea has been very gracious towards you, far more than she would've needed to be. She could've browbeat you into going along with her, threatened and blackmailed you; but she never did. Sure you were going along with her whims but you were doing it of your own volition because deep down, you realize, it was fun. Deceiving Yumi's friends, being the manipulative schemer, playing a part in Kelsey's downfall and seeing her dreams crushed... it's fun and it's thrilling. That you could be on the same wavelength as Chelsea, that you could form this kind of bond with her, is something you never thought would've been a possibility before.<br/>
<br/>
"You good over there?"<br/>
<br/>
Chen's voice brings you back to reality. "Huh?" you ask as you look over at him. "Sorry I was just thinking," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"About what?"<br/>
<br/>
"How nuts this is," you state. "Not just the book but I mean that two people as opposite as us would be working so close."<br/>
<br/>
"Us as in me and you? Or Chen and Yumi?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
That gives you a second of pause. "Both I guess," you answer and that sends something firing in your brain. "It does make me wonder though if we always have to hang out together like this?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you want to hang out as Chelsea and Will?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "Not as Will, no. Not if I can help it anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"You like being Yumi that much?" Chen asks and laughs a little.<br/>
<br/>
"It's better than what I had," you admit. "But no I was thinking about Yumi and Chelsea hanging out together."<br/>
<br/>
That produces only an inquisitive noise from your partner.<br/>
<br/>
"Yumi's the one who helped pin everything on Kelsey and cleared Chelsea of any suspicion. So maybe," you stop to think for a second, "maybe Yumi starts talking to Chelsea, you know to sort of smooth things over right? Because this has been a trying ordeal for the whole squad and she wants to place peacemaker."<br/>
<br/>
"And from there Chelsea and Yumi start being seen in each other's company more; they start becoming friendly," he finishes. Chen's staring at the road but you can still see the smile that's crept onto his face. "Having you, or Yumi I guess, at my side over Kendra... yeah that'd be a lot better. A whole lot better. I'll need to work on something to take her down too though if that's what we want to do."<br/>
<br/>
"Take her down?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, because I trust Kendra as far as I can throw her," he replies and you muse that, as Chen, that would be pretty far. "If we got closer then she'd start feeling threatened which means she goes to Lin and Cindy for real. Even if she's head of the JV squad, if we get it of course, then she'll try to work them into her own little club."<br/>
<br/>
"So we set her up like we did Kelsey," you add. "She gets booted, then Yumi gets made head of the JV squad and since she's in good with you..."<br/>
<br/>
Chen lets out a particularly girlish noise, something that is very Chelsea. "I didn't know you had it in you!" he exclaims; the Yumi part of you doesn't want to admit that thought was all her. "But then won't her friends get suspicious? You said they're already talking because of our relationship. Worried that Yumi's taking in the wrong influences no doubt, becoming a bad girl."<br/>
<br/>
"Screw what they think," you say bitterly. "I'm reaching a point where I don't care about that. If they want to think I'm some kind of bad girl then let them think that. The only girl whose opinion Yumi Saito really, truly cares about is Jenny Ashton's."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that who you want as a second then?" asks Chen with amusement. "She tried out for the squad before didn't she? If you can convince her to try out again she'll have a spot lined up for her. Then you won't have to worry about what she thinks."<br/>
<br/>
But you shake your head. "If you want to add her to the squad that's fine but I'm not taking her as another face," you tell him. "I'd been thinking about who to go with though and going over some of the names you'd been bringing up over the last few days. I kept coming back to one though and with all this talk about bad girls..."<br/>
<br/>
You pause for a moment trying to gauge his reaction but you don't see one so you keep going as he pulls into the school parking lot. "I want Sienna Goldman," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing's said until he parks but when he does he looks at you and there's a giant grin on his face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a bit of a fun idea that Chelsea had presented to you as you sat there in Chen's Jeep. While her talk of bad girls got you thinking, the mention of opposites that led to that conversation had gotten <i>her</i> thinking and when Sienna's name came up, well, it instantly fell into place. Will and Chelsea teaming up to tackle the book, Yumi and Chen in a relationship, Yumi and Chelsea becoming chummy; it's like a massive case of opposites attracting so why not carry that over?<br/>
<br/>
As Chen she can get you Sienna with relatively little difficulty. After all Chen deals weed to one of her more distant friends (or at least friendly acquaintance) Nancy Trent and because of it Sienna's come to him when she wants some as well. It's not a regular thing as Sienna's the only one of her core group who smokes and she much prefers beer but still if Chen approached her it wouldn't be anything weird.<br/>
<br/>
But from there who would your third be? Well that's where the real fun comes in. The obvious answer would be another of Sienna's friends but that's boring she'd said. You mentioned you'd been thinking of making one of her regular fuck buddies her steady boyfriend but Chelsea dismissed that too. It's mostly guys like Roth, those in a similar strata as her. No if you wanted to do something really fun, really shocking and really playing into the idea of opposites attract, hook her up with someone she might never get with normally.<br/>
<br/>
A jock would be a good one she'd told you and she seemed to take a lot of delight in the idea of seeing Sienna paired up with someone like Steve Patterson. Or if you wanted to really get crazy why not look at one of the rich kids? The AP and orchestra snobs and such; the type who populate the country club? It's not like Gary Chen would have an issue getting someone like Gardinhire after all.<br/>
<br/>
And while all of that is intriguing you can't help but be a bit put off at the idea of doing anything with another guy because at heart that's still what you are. Oh Chen has kissed you and canoodled and you've even slept together but that's easy to rationalize: it's not Chen you were sleeping with but Chelsea and for something like that you're willing to look the other way. Of course you say none of that to her, those thoughts are kept to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
But you do counter with another idea that seems to bring a light to her borrowed eyes. What if Sienna got a girlfriend? You (that is Yumi and Chen) have never heard any rumors to say she's secretly gay or bisexual or has even just experimented with another girl but if you're running her does that even matter? All you have to say is that the promiscuity was a result of denying who she really is. Besides, if you wanted to make a splash then it'd be hard to top giving the notorious Sienna Goldman not just a steady partner but a steady girlfriend.</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323222
author_id: seuzz
title: Clearing the Airhead
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Thursday afternoon. Last period.</i> Susie Lekuawehe is only a casual acquaintance of Yumi's, and Yumi only shares one class, Orchestra, with her. But the orchestra is currently working on a Bach concerto and there's no call for clarinet players. <br/>
<br/>
So you go looking for her where she's supposed to be when Orchestra doesn't call for a class of instrument: the practice rooms.<br/>
<br/>
You're utterly unsurprised to find that she's apparently skipping. You return, in a little bit of a huff, to the practice hall and take your seat.<br/>
<br/>
"Find her?" your boyfriend asks. You shake your head and take out your cell phone. Out of the corner of your eye you catch Eva looking like she wants to say something to you, but you concentrate on the text to Susie: <i>Can we get together ths afternoon got thing i want talk to u abt.</i> Then you have to quickly shove the phone away as Mrs. Heinz approaches the podium with her baton.<br/>
<br/>
You get a very stern look from her—and stifled titters from the other players—when your phone chimes in the middle of the Adagio.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sure enough, Susie was in the library instead of the practice rooms, and she's already left campus by the time you connect with her again after school lets out. But she agrees to meet you someplace that evening for coffee and maybe a nibble. After an aggravating back-and-forth, for Susie seems congenitally incapable of making a decision—you settle on The Milagro Beanfield Warehouse as the spot, and eight o'clock as the time.<br/>
<br/>
And for thirty minutes you grind your teeth with frustration as she never shows up and never shows up. You finally shoot her another text reminding her of your coffee date. She walks in a few minutes later with an embarrassed grin spread across her broad face. "Sorry," she says. "I wound up running a little late."<br/>
<br/>
You'd forgive her for that. But she's brought a friend on what you'd stressed was supposed to be a one-on-one chat. It doesn't matter that it's Brianna Kirschke, another band girl who you (as Yumi) ostensibly like a lot. It's going to be awkward getting that mask on Susie with someone else in the booth!<br/>
<br/>
But you grit your teeth into a smile and accompany them to the front counter, where you get a refill and Brianna orders an espresso with swift dispatch while Susie dithers and giggles and asks the baristas lots of questions, sometimes repeating them even after they've been answered. She finally settles on a simple hazelnut blend and a pecan-butterscotch scone, the latter of which she only gets after extracting promises from you and Brianna that you'll help her eat it.<br/>
<br/>
Then, once you're all seated, she completely ignores you and returns to talking to Brianna about school.<br/>
<br/>
"So I was telling you about that presentation I was giving in Mr. Hartford's today?" she says as she picks at a corner of the scone. "And I'm giving it and I'm talking about due process, or whatever it is, and I'm almost done and I'm thinking <i>Thank God!</i> because it looks like I'm about to get done without embarrassing myself? when this guy Kian? He sticks up his hand?" A worried grin spreads over her face. "And he asks me something about—" Her face screws up with concentration. "About substance and due process? I think? Like, what's the difference between them, he wants to know?"<br/>
<br/>
Brianna sips her coffee and doesn't say anything. You don't either, naturally, since you've even less idea what's going on.<br/>
<br/>
"And I look over at Mr. Hartford, and he just puts out his hands like this?" Susie extends her hands, palm upward, in a kind of shrug. "So I'm like, <i>shit!</i> You know?"<br/>
<br/>
And on she goes in this way, complaining about a class presentation that got hijacked by a smart-aleck classmate. At least it gives you plenty of time to study her.<br/>
<br/>
Susie Lekuawehe is adorable. That really is the best word for her. She has a round face with the high, flat cheekbones of a Pacific Islander, and her almond-shaped eyes curl up into smiling half moons when she's happy, which is often. Her skin looks velvet smooth to the touch, and her brunette hair falls in soft waves down to her shoulders, like surf pouring off a rock. She has a large bosom and wide, bowl-shaped hips on thick thighs. She's not fat—at least, <i>you</i> wouldn't call her so—but there's no denying that she's soft and plump all over. But it's the kind of plumpness that contributes to her curves instead of burying them. The kind of plumpness you could bury yourself in.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That you could bury yourself inside.</i> A sudden vision of yourself driving and inhabiting this body, and of prattling out these words, brings you back sharply to the present.<br/>
<br/>
"So I end up with a C," she's moaning, "all because this guy asks me a <i>question!</i>" She clucks her tongue at the manifest unfairness of it.<br/>
<br/>
"He sounds like a real jerk," Brianna agrees, and sips some more coffee.<br/>
<br/>
A furtive smile breaks out on Susie's face, and she blushes. "Yeah," she says in a much softer voice. "It's too bad he's so cute."<br/>
<br/>
"Is he?" Brianna asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!" Susie digs out her phone and starts scrolling through it.<br/>
<br/>
You finally pipe up. "You took a picture of him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Start of the year. He sits behind me." Susie runs her finger over the phone's surface, frowning. "So where'd I—?"<br/>
<br/>
"So does he like you?" Brianna asks. A teasing smile appears on her face.<br/>
<br/>
"No! Not if he's trying to show me up like that!" Susie gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he was trying to break the ice with you," Brianna says. With her overbite and her black-framed glasses, she looks like a very smug chipmunk. "You should talk to him tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"God! No!" Susie presses the phone to her ample bosom and blushes furiously. "I don't have a <i>crush</i> on him or anything!"<br/>
<br/>
So the conversation turns to boys, with lots of tittering and giggling by Susie, and some prim-mouthed sarcastic comments by Brianna. They talk about who's hot on the marching band and in the calculus class they share, and who is crushing on whom and who should be going out with whom, and who's made a romantic mistake and who is undeservedly lucky. The occasional "You know" and "Didn't I tell you?" make it sound like every topic has been well-rehearsed to death by them long ago. You rest your head in your hand and listen, and even when you go up to get another refill neither of them deigns to notice how bored you are, and how they're leaving you totally out of the conversation.<br/>
<br/>
Then, after a good half hour of this, Susie with a sigh pulls her bag onto the table and unloads some books. So does Brianna.<br/>
<br/>
That's finally too much. "Are you guys studying?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
They turn shocked faces on you. For a long moment no one says anything.<br/>
<br/>
Then Susie gasps. "Oh my God, Yumi! You wanted to get together to talk about something, didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh."<br/>
<br/>
"I totally forgot!" She wheels on Brianna. "I totally forgot to tell you we were—" She wheels back on you. "So what was it? What did you want to talk about?" Susie blushes and smiles in an adorably embarrassed way.<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing, but let your eyes flick over to Brianna. "I guess it can keep," you say.<br/>
<br/>
No one moves.<br/>
<br/>
You stand up. "Maybe I'll talk to you about it tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"I've got plans tomorrow, after school," Susie says in a small voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Then that's okay, maybe some other time." You somehow contrive to keep your tone very cool, but you feel a blush of fury boiling up your face and over your scalp as you stalk outside to the parking lot. You get in your car, and your fingers tremble with anger as you text Chelsea: <i>Couldnt get mask on susie will try later c u tmrow.</i><br/>
<br/>
The reply comes a moment later, even as you're trying to calm down so you won't purposefully drive over anyone on your way home: <i>whr r u<br/>
<br/>
Milagro<br/>
<br/>
stil thr?<br/>
<br/>
Y<br/>
<br/>
wait outside b thr n few</i><br/>
<br/>
You blink, but text back <i>ok</i>. By the time your boyfriend arrives—only fifteen minutes later—you're in a much calmer mood.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"They still inside?" Chelsea asks from behind Gary Chen's stony face. "Did you put that stuff inside Yumi's mask?" he asks after you nod. "So I could put it straight onto Susie Pineapple, turn her into Yumi?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you could get her alone," you say. "But you're not going to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Get in the back seat," he orders. "Get in the back!" he repeats when your jaw drops. You scramble out of the car. "Hide yourself down in the floorboards. Fuck, you need to start carrying a blanket or something you can hide under, if you're gonna be doing this kind of shit."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of shit?" you squeal.<br/>
<br/>
"What kind do you think? Get in the floorboards and take your clothes off. Then take the mask off. Is the blank in your purse?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think you're going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna get you her face. Jesus, Will, show a little fucking spine. It's just Susie Pineapple."<br/>
<br/>
"You better not call me that when I'm her!" you grumble as you pull at the buttons of your blouse.<br/>
<br/>
"She loves it," he retorts. "You just make sure you're stuffed down where no one can see you if they walk past the car. Maybe you don't got nothing to be ashamed of, man, but ain't no reason to wave it around so fuckers can see it."<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself blushing with pleasure at the compliment, which (given who you're talking to) is coming from two people you'd never expect to compliment you in that way. You struggle out of Yumi's top and jeans, then wedge yourself down in the space behind the driver's seat. It's tricky getting your hands up to your face, and you have to tug at it three times before you place your fingers correctly.<br/>
<br/>
But the third time you pull at your brow, it's like your whole face comes with it. Darkness pours in through the door that you've opened in the front of your skull.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332323
author_id: seuzz
title: Group Advantages
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't want to get stampeded into a choice, especially if it's a shiny lure when you should be looking at someone (or set of someones) who could confer serious advantages. It seems safer, or at least it makes for more flexibility, if you look at the possibilities as a "group" that you can infiltrate. Then you can at least be sure of picking up certain advantages that would be nice to have while focusing on the more particular advantages of certain individuals.<br/>
<br/>
Take, for instance, Chelsea's suggestion some time back that you pick Geoff Mansfield or Anthony Kirk or Martin Gardinhire as a second face. They all have something in common: they come from wealthy families who belong to the country club, and they all take AP classes and are on track to attend Ivy League universities. If it comes to making choice there, you know the basics of what you would be getting. It's just a matter of figuring out which particular asshole it would be the most fun to be.<br/>
<br/>
Same thing with another of Chelsea's suggestions, that you be one of the incoming cheerleaders. There are lots of ways of playing the game there. Do you wait until Chelsea has picked two replacements, and then choose from them? Or do you pick someone so Chelsea will be sure to pick one that you like? Or do you pick Kim Walsh, so that you can be sure that the JV expansion goes through? After all, maybe you will want to be one of the JV cheerleaders instead.<br/>
<br/>
Then, when Chen leans over to bite your ear and murmur, "Hang out in the loft until I have to go to work?" he raises another possibility. Steve Patterson has access to the loft, and you keep having to dodge him. Aside from the fact that Patterson would make an attractive puppet in just the way that Chen does, it would be a great convenience if he was one of your golems so that you wouldn't have to pussyfoot around him when using the loft. The same for anyone else who has or would have access there.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323231
author_id: seuzz
title: The Privileged Class, Which Enjoys Its Privileges
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>If you're going to go for a "country club" type, there's no clubbier type than Kelsey Blankenship herself.<br/>
<br/>
But she wasn't one of the people that Chelsea suggested, and given the uproar surrounding the cheerleader squad, she's probably not a fun place to be right now. The same emphatically goes for Martin Gardinhire, and you're lukewarm on the idea of using Geoff Mansfield as a second, for fear of attracting Chelsea's attention to Lisa. (Besides which, you're starting feel like you're definitely over your ex-girlfriend.)<br/>
<br/>
But Anthony Kirk probably hasn't got any of those disadvantages, and he's one of the biggest AP jerks there is. So smug, so rich, so full of himself. The only person worse than him is —<br/>
<br/>
You pull yourself up short. "What?" Gary Chen, who's got his arm around your shoulder, asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," you murmur. "Just thinking." He says something (probably "Thinking about what?") but you're back with your own preoccupations.<br/>
<br/>
There's a whole other "AP group" you've never paid attention to, because you never really knew they existed until you were inside Yumi.<br/>
<br/>
They're musicians.<br/>
<br/>
Specifically, they are David Scofeld, Tyler Burns, and George Basham, along with Abigail Kane and Kristin Yetter. (Abigail is dating George and Kristin is dating David.) Sarah Bhatnagar hangs out with them too.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi knows them from the orchestra. Tyler, David, Sarah and Kristin are violinists, while Abigail plays the cello and George plays the clarinet. They're good, and Tyler is good enough that he plays in the more exclusive Chamber Orchestra as well. They also take tons of AP classes, and you—well, Yumi—have heard them all talking about the country club. You know the girls well enough, however, to guess that it's the guys whose families are members there. <br/>
<br/>
You're not sure who you'd make into a second face of them, if you did decide to find a second face there. But maybe it doesn't matter. You and Chelsea could just get a mask of one them, and somewhere in private you could review what they know in order to figure out which one of them you might want to be.<br/>
<br/>
"Thinking about the country club," you tell Chelsea when your tablemate prods you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Thinking it would be nice to be rich."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, babe," he says, "if you want to be rich, there's this motherfucker goes to Eastman whose dad's like, a billionaire."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Billionaire?</i><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133232312
author_id: seuzz
title: The AP Kids from Another World
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The Eastman High billionaire sounds really tempting. But that would take you out of Westside. And really, after you've reached a certain level of wealth, does the extra billion on top of the five million really make a difference? It would be enough to be one of those country club assholes.<br/>
<br/>
Anthony Kirk holds little appeal for you, as he's constantly hanging out with Geoff Mansfield, and the less you have to do with Mansfield the happier you will be. But the three guys in the Orchestra—Tyler Burns, George Basham, and David Scofeld—are of the same type. Yumi knows people in that group as well as in Kirk's, and she has the impression they don't much like each other.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, you are moved by a spiteful desire to use one of the orchestra guys to fuck over with Kirk and Mansfield and their group.<br/>
<br/>
But even Yumi doesn't know much about them, except that Tyler and David play the violin in the school orchestra, and that Tyler plays in the even more exclusive Chamber Orchestra. They are both cut from the same cloth as Mansfield, being tallish, dark-haired, well-groomed, and inclined to show up to school in slacks, dress shirts and ties. You have the vague impression that David's family has more money. You know they keep a boat way the hell out in Cape Cod, because you've seen online pictures of David lounging around on it in shorts and boat shoes. <br/>
<br/>
As for George— "Is George Basham in the marching band?" you ask your tablemate. Basham plays the clarinet.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," he says. "You could look online, the band's got an x2z stream. Why are you asking about him instead of that Eastman guy?"<br/>
<br/>
Briefly it occurs to you that maybe you ought to take that Eastman kid as your second, or Chelsea might lunge for him on her own account, her promise to you about limiting the number of masks be damned. <br/>
<br/>
But instead you snuggle up closer to Chen. "I don't want to get too far from you."<br/>
<br/>
"That's sweet," he says, but his tone has soured. "Basham's got a girlfriend, or haven't you noticed? Is that who you're thinking about?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh yeah.</i> George and Abigail Kane have been going together for the last year. And David and Kristin Yetter have been going around since the start of the summer, you've heard. Chelsea has said you might take a person who has a girlfriend (or a boyfriend, you suppose) so long as you took both sides of the couplehood, so she wouldn't feel like you were cheating on her. But though Abigail and Kristin are pretty enough and good enough, neither of them have anything like the money behind them that their boyfriends have.<br/>
<br/>
So even when Chen nudges you and says, "Basham's girl could be your third," you don't commit. "I'm thinking about the money, not the girlfriends," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Can't go wrong with—" he starts to say, and you finish with "—being a billionaire who goes to Eastman. I know."<br/>
<br/>
"Naw. I was going to say you can't go wrong with old money. What about Sophia Van den Berg?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink. She's not in the Orchestra, but she sometimes sits in on rehearsals that hour, for she's friends with Tyler and them. The Van den Bergs are, as Chen says, "old money" in town, as they've been in Saratoga Falls forever. And Chelsea might like it better if you took a girl as a second face anyway.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332323121
author_id: seuzz
title: One Side of a Potential Duet
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yes, I'm thinking about picking George Basham," you tell Chelsea. "George or Tyler Burns. What do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think they're both assholes, but it's  your call. What about their girlfriends?" Chen is concentrating on his food.<br/>
<br/>
That could make a difference. Like Tyler, Kristin is a violinist. But you think Abigail, who plays the cello, is the better looking of the two.<br/>
<br/>
On the third hand, you have the impression that Tyler's family has more money than George's, and the violin is a much more prestigious instrument than the clarinet.<br/>
<br/>
"What about their girlfriends?" Chen asks again, and this time he gives you a sidelong look.<br/>
<br/>
"I can figure them out after I have their boyfriend's face," you tell him.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133232313
author_id: seuzz
title: The Billionaire
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Tell me about this guy who's a billionaire," you say.<br/>
<br/>
Your boyfriend grins at you. "I thought that'd get your attention. He goes to Eastman, plays basketball for them, and his dad owns a technology company. I'm not sure what they do, but they're worth billions."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like you know all about them."<br/>
<br/>
"I pay attention to stuff like that," Chen says with a shrug. "He's got a girlfriend, too." He pulls you close. "Maybe if I get you this billionaire, you can get me the girlfriend? Or a different girlfriend for him, for me?"<br/>
<br/>
You wonder why, if this guy is such a catch, Chelsea didn't grab him for herself. He sounds a hell of a lot better than Gary Chen. Is there anything wrong with him?<br/>
<br/>
You approach the issue indirectly: "Do you have any pictures of him? Or links to where I can read about him?"<br/>
<br/>
Chen takes out his phone, even as with his other hand he shoves a fat blob of fried rice into his mouth. But after a few seconds of scrolling, he shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll send you some links later," he says. "I don't remember where they are off hand. But his name's Jonathan Straussler if you want to look him up yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"How can we get a mask onto him, if he goes to Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pft. Easy. I told you, he plays basketball. I'll have Gordon invite him out, we'll get him up in the loft, and between me and him it'll be a fucking piece of cake. We could do that now, probably, 'cept I gotta send Gary to work."<br/>
<br/>
"And I don't have blank mask ready."<br/>
<br/>
"So get one ready. If you get it done tonight, we'll get him for you tomorrow. And then we'll have Friday to celebrate in style," he adds with a wolfish chortle.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you return to the elementary school after parting for the evening, where you make a blank mask and band. You redouble your efforts that night—after finishing your homework—after Chelsea sends you those links she promised.<br/>
<br/>
Some of the links lead to boring business-news articles about Proteus Technologies, which is the company that the Strausslers own. About the only thing you learn from it is that Curt Straussler—that's Jonathan's father—is probably worth between one-and-a-half and two billion dollars. So that confirms you're not dealing with anything so measly as a "millionaire."<br/>
<br/>
It's with a sense of relief, and approval, that you look on the photos Chelsea sends of your identity-to-be. Jonathan Straussler is a tall, lanky kid (but not too skinny) with soft blonde locks, limpid blue eyes, and a lazy smile. According to the stats and to the local sports-news write-ups (which neither you nor Yumi have ever followed with any interest) he's one of the better members of the EHS team. She also sends you links to various social media postings—the girl had really done your homework for you—that suggest he's pretty popular over at EHS, for he shows up on a lot of pages and posts.<br/>
<br/>
In many of them he has a girl nestled in the crook of his arm. She's very short—or he's even taller than he appears in the other photos—for the top of her head barely clears the top of his shoulder. She has an oval face with large eyes, and long, raven-dark hair that trails down to her elbows. "Monique Travers" is her name, and apparently she's a freshman. <i>Hmmm. Intriguing.</i><br/>
<br/>
You show Chelsea the mask the next morning when, back inside Gary Chen's mask, she picks you up for school. "Awesome," he says. "Stick around after school." He grips your thigh. "Even if we can't get Jonathan up in the loft, maybe we can have some fun up there?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're jumpy all day, and prickle all over with anticipation. Your friends even notice. "What's gotten into you?" Jessica Garner asks you at the end of fourth period. "You kept squirming." You try to pass it off as "too much caffeine," but she looks skeptical.<br/>
<br/>
So why are you so excited?<br/>
<br/>
Is it nerves? It's partly that, probably. You will be jumping into a new skin, and it'll be the skin of someone with a very different life at a different school. But it's got to be more than that.<br/>
<br/>
Is it because you'll be getting a new identity? You weren't this excited about making Yumi into an alias: that really was a case of nerves, and now that you're used to the idea of "being someone else" you really shouldn't be too overwrought. But you've got a hard case of butterflies in your stomach.<br/>
<br/>
You glance around your classrooms and pretend that it's some of the people in there that you are going to be impersonating. Cameron Huber, the WHS quarterback. Seth Javits, the bully basketball player who dates Cindy Vredenburg. Nathan Cruz, who is first-chair violin in the orchestra <i>and</i> is on the swim team. But these don't give you the thrill that you get when you remember that, by the end of the day (with luck) you'll be Jonathan Straussler of Eastman High.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, you have to conclude, it's Jonathan himself who's got you excited. His dad is a billionaire, after all, and besides that he's a popular, good-looking jock with a cute girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if he's got a sports car. He must have.<br/>
<br/>
You hope he has.<br/>
<br/>
You're a wreck by the time Orchestra rolls around, because you've not heard from Chelsea whether she got things set up. But while you're changing out books before eighth period, your boyfriend slides up next to you—as he has been, ever since you started going out—and murmurs in your ear: "It's on."<br/>
<br/>
And when he bites the top of your ear you almost liquefy on the spot.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you've still got a long wait until the magical moment because basketball practice takes up the hour after school, and then Straussler will have to make his way over the WHS. Somehow you find the concentration to push through a bunch of homework in the library, until you're kicked out at straight-up five o'clock, and then you go out and sit in Chen's Jeep and watch as the basketball players and tennis players, softball players and lacrosse players, stream off the fields and out of the gym to their cars. You take special note of Steve Patterson, Gordon Black's best friend, exiting the gym with a very sour expression on his face.<br/>
<br/>
Then you wait another thirty minutes, cruising the internet in a highly distracted state and fielding texts from friends. Jenny Ashton and the Garners want to know what you're doing that evening, but you put them off with excuses: Golem-Yumi can decide what to do after dinner.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, at the bottom of the hour, a silvery Porsche coupe purrs into the lot and parks a couple of rows down. Instantly, you begin to salivate. From the driver's side steps Jonathan Straussler.<br/>
<br/>
He is tall, though exactly how tall is hard to make out from a distance and without a point of comparison. He is slim, and dressed in an incongruous combination of red track pants with a gray stripe down the side and a white, button-down shirt with untucked tails and sleeves rolled up past the elbows. With hands in his pockets he saunters out of sight down the breezeway that fronts the gym.<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep, sighing gulp, and clench your phone as you wait for the signal.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck, but it's a long time coming!</i><br/>
<br/>
Finally, though, your cell dings. <i>cum up,</i> says your boyfriend, and you fly out of the car. You sprint off down the breezeway and yank open the doors to the gym.<br/>
<br/>
Chen is at the bottom of the stairs to the loft, grinning hard as you gallop across the gym floor, your footfalls booming in the empty space. "You look like you're about to shit yourself," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Is he out? I mean, you got the mask on him?" you pant.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Gordon grabbed him from behind, and I popped it onto him." He cocks his head. "He takes a good picture. I think he's a little funnier-looking in real life."<br/>
<br/>
You're too excited to listen, and brush past him. He pinches your butt as you mount the steps. You squeal and almost trip, but make to the top with most of your dignity intact.<br/>
<br/>
The door is open, and Gordon looks over with a glower as you enter. You spare him only a brief glance, though, and edge around him.<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan Straussler is lying on the gym mat—the same one where you and Gary Chen have made naked, sweaty love.  For a moment, you feel repulsed.<br/>
<br/>
But the feeling vanishes as you study Straussler more carefully. Is he "funny looking"? No, wouldn't say so, though maybe he does look a little less composed with his face slack, his eyes staring, and his mouth hanging open. His face is narrow and so are his eyes. And maybe his mouth is a little too wide. But he's handsome enough. You wouldn't feel ashamed to have a face like that.<br/>
<br/>
"How long do we have to wait?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," says Chelsea. "A couple of more minutes. I texted you right after we got it onto him. If you wanna get undressed—" He wraps his arms around you from behind, and pulls you close. "We can have a little fun while we still can. Gordon, go wait downstairs, make sure no one comes up here."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't have enough time," you reply. "Not enough to make it count."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, come on, I just need a minute. I'm already—"<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be fun for you but not for me. Come on, Chelsea, don't tell me you don't know all about <i>that!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Chen grumbles but lets you go. As you pull off your clothes, you promise him that you'll make the golem-Yumi give him a good time. He mumbles something in reply. "What did you say?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I said, it won't be the same." He catches you by the hand. "Find some way to keep us together, Will," he says. "I'm going to miss you."<br/>
<br/>
You almost fall over with surprise.</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323232
author_id: seuzz
title: New Squadmates
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You were talking earlier about— Quit that," you snap as Gary Chen tries to stick a piece of sweet-and-sour chicken into your mouth. "We're going to expand the squad? That's still on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure is," Chen murmurs. "It'll get my name in the Westside history books."<br/>
<br/>
"Assuming the student council goes along with it," you can't help saying, and you ignore Chen's airy, "They will." "Well, assuming they do, and assuming I want one of those girls from the tryouts as my second face ... " You trail off with a frown, and tap the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," you resume. "Should I just pick one of the girls who makes it onto the squad? Or should I pick someone so you— Uh, so Chelsea can pick her?"<br/>
<br/>
Chen shrugs. "Up to you. I can't guarantee you'll like any of the girls who win. But if you pick one of the girls before I pick the winners ... Well, what if she just isn't any good? It would be pretty freaking awkward." She must be thinking with her "Chelsea" brain, since "freaking" is more her kind of word than Chen's.<br/>
<br/>
"And it depends on whether the expansion actually goes through," you add.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, it will."<br/>
<br/>
Well, it would definitely go through, you feel, if you made Kim Walsh your second.<br/>
<br/>
And Kim actually competed for the squad at the start of the year. She wasn't bad, as you and Yumi both recall.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133232321
author_id: seuzz
title: Closer to Chelsea
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>What if the girl you pick just isn't any good,</i> Chelsea had suggested. But you think you see a way of handling that.<br/>
<br/>
"You're pretty good at the cheerleading stuff," you tell her, and as Yumi Saito it kills you more than a little to compliment Chelsea. And it's an especially odd thing to say given that Chelsea is looking like Gary Chen as you say it.<br/>
<br/>
But it looks and sounds even weirder when Chen's face scrunches up into a very Chelsea-like smile. "Why, thank you, Yumi," he says as he beams at you. "I know how hard it is for you to admit something like that!"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes, then grab his hand as he lays it on your thigh. "So what if <i>you</i> did the tryout for me?" you say. "I pick the girl, but instead of me doing the tryout, you wear the mask so that she's guaranteed to get on?"<br/>
<br/>
Chen's brow furrows. "Okay, I could see how that could work. But what if it turns out she's not any good? I mean, sure, I could maybe get someone onto the squad with a workout piece. But what about afterward?" <br/>
<br/>
The furrow on his brow deepens. "Do you think we could, like, merge their minds?" he asks. "Like, merge her mind with, uh, mine, so that she could ..." He trails off, and the lines on his brow take on a thoughtful cast.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "Maybe I should just wait until I see who makes it onto the squad."<br/>
<br/>
But your partner doesn't answer, and completes the meal without saying much more than a passing grunt.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Life continues. The school announces that there are two vacancies on the cheerleader squad and that open tryouts to fill them will be held on the Wednesday of the following week. There is much smirking and groaning among your friends, and suggestions that they should be held the following Friday—Halloween—instead. "Chelsea can dress up as a witch," Lin suggests, "so everyone can know what they're getting into."<br/>
<br/>
You have no idea who is signing up for the tryouts, because Chelsea—both the golem that is keeping Chelsea's place warm, and the real girl, who is continuing to live under Gary Chen's mask—will tell you. "Gimme a blow job," he mutters on Saturday when you ask who's been signing up. Patterson has the fuck room, so you're back inside one of the portables, naked and nestled together in a dirty sleeping bag. "Suck me off real good, and I'll think about telling you." <br/>
<br/>
So life proceeds in other ways. As the next week starts, your relationship with "Gary Chen" is open, official, and unashamed. He stops by your locker during most breaks between periods, to kiss you deeply and lustily while groping your ass. You go to and leave math and orchestra together. Your friends are clearly unsure how to react. Lin will only speak to you when you speak to her first, but she is at least cordial. Jessica doesn't speak much to you either, but Eva at least pretends a sympathetic understanding. Cindy doesn't address the situation, but she boxes Seth's ear on Sunday when he openly asks you how come you're seeing "that fucking psycho."<br/>
<br/>
Jenny is almost as outspoken as Seth. You eat lunch with her and her friends on Monday—you keep an eye out for your own golem, but he's off being stupid with Caleb and Keith apparently—and Jenny gives you a very direct stare as you sit down with them. "So I guess you really are serious about Gary Chen," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I am," you reply, and stiffen all over. You notice that Carson and James don't look at you; Paul, to your relief, has absented himself.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the appeal?" Jenny asks.<br/>
<br/>
You've no idea how to answer that question honestly. "He likes me," you improvise lamely. Then, to your own astonishment, you add: "Fiercely."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean 'fiercely'?" Jenny asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean—" But you've surprised yourself, and you grapple with it silently for what seems like a very long time before you can stammer out something like an explanation.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, he goes wild around me. For me." Your tongue ties up in a knot as you think of frenzied way that Chen pulls his clothes off when you're alone, of the hard bites and the groping fingers, of the gasps as he presses his rigid, straining cock at you and into you, of the frantic pumping and explosive release; and of the long, slow, decompression as he kisses and fondles you all over; the little endearments and the gruff apologies for being "kind of rough"; and the final limp, boneless relaxation with a cigarette as he stares at the ceiling while muttering obscenely about what he's going to do to you next time. "It's flattering," you lamely conclude.<br/>
<br/>
"A lot of guys could go crazy for you, Yumi," Jenny says. "A lot of guys who aren't—"<br/>
<br/>
"You know, he hasn't had an easy life." You raise your voice over hers. "He doesn't get a lot of love, not at home and sure as hell not at school. He's hungry for it."<br/>
<br/>
Carson mutters something, but his words are lost under Jenny's. "That's not a healthy basis for a relationship," she tells you. Her eyes are deep wells of concern. "If you ever decide to break up, you should worry about how he's going to take it."<br/>
<br/>
"I think it's a little early to think about breaking up."<br/>
<br/>
"Just be careful," she tells you. "After what he did to Martin—"<br/>
<br/>
"You know, you guys should be careful of him," you say, looking past Jenny at Carson and James, who are talking quietly with each other. "Don't think that 'cos Seth and Steve and those guys let you get away with giving them shit that Gary will too."<br/>
<br/>
They just look at you.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny's face shows her disappointment. "Jesus, Yumi. Now <i>he's</i> got you threatening people."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You do hear rumors and reports about girls who have applied for the squad. (You also hear from Kim, who tells you and your friends that she is moving on Chelsea's request to add a JV squad, though she says it will probably be after Christmas break before it can get set up.) On Tuesday, after school, as you're eating at the Panda Garden again, Chelsea finally shares with you the names of people who have signed up for the tryouts. "Who do you like on it?" she asks you. "You know, for your second?"<br/>
<br/>
You look it over. A couple of names you've already been thinking about—Olivia Byrne; Mikaela Bowers—pop out at you. But it's not a long list, a fact you point out to Chelsea. "There were, like, sixty girls who tried out at the start of the year."<br/>
<br/>
"We're halfway through the semester," she replies. "A lot of them are locked into a schedule. But before you get too deep into it," she says as you continue study the list, "I have an idea. Just hear me out, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
She squeezes up very close to you; Chen's distinctive musk of sweat, tobacco smoke, and Chinese machismo fills your nostrils. <br/>
<br/>
"You said something last week," she says, "about maybe I could do the tryout for you, to make sure your second face got onto the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but you pointed out that wouldn't work."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but it got me thinking." She puts her face—Chen's face—very close to yours. "What about if, instead of <i>you</i> taking one of these girls, as a second face—" She points to the list, and her words come in little, breathy squirts. "What if <i>I</i> took one of them?"<br/>
<br/>
A chill settles over you. "You mean you take <i>another</i> face? But <i>I'm</i> the one who's supposed to— And the point of this is that <i>I</i> get another face on the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"You would, babe, you would," she coos. "'Cos I'd give you a face that's already on the squad. Give up one of mine that's already there."<br/>
<br/>
"Who's that?" She's not making any sense.<br/>
<br/>
"My own face," she says in a very small voice. "You could be—" She swallows. "Chelsea Cooper. And I could be—" With a fumbling finger she points to the list.<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to register what she's proposing.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not getting a lot of use out of my own face, Will," she says. "I could let you have it as your second. Off and on, maybe, at least. And then I could be—" Again she points at the list.<br/>
<br/>
Still you can't find your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"You've been really sweet to me, Will," she continues, and you can see the sweat breaking out on her forehead. (<i>Say something, you moron!</i> you shout at yourself.) "You've helped me out with all this magic stuff. And getting the squad straightened out. And you've really been—" She grips the side of your butt and pulls you closer. "I feel like I want to share <i>everything</i> with you now," she whispers.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart rises into your throat. Her expression turns first puzzled, then fearful, as you struggle to speak.<br/>
<br/>
"Wow," you finally gasp out. "That's a really, um, amazing offer, Chelsea," you whisper. <br/>
<br/>
Still the fear shows in her eyes. "But?" she prompts you.</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332323211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Game of Musical Faces
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"No buts," you stammer. "If you're, uh, if you're really ... serious." You gulp. "Are you?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea nods, but her expression remains tense.<br/>
<br/>
You can come up with no better reply than a choked-up, "Okay." It hardly seems like an appropriate reply, and even after Chelsea leans in to nuzzle you, you feel like you should protest somehow, so it won't seem like you're lunging at ... At <br/>
<br/>
<i>Possessing Chelsea Cooper's body.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So, like, whenever you want to do a handoff," you say as casually as you can. "After the tryouts, I guess, or—"<br/>
<br/>
"How about now?" she says. She grips your knee, and shivers run all up and down your body. "You can be in charge of running the tryouts tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Now?" you squeak. "As in—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Make you sure you pick me out a good replacement face," she says as she gets up from the table.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's all going so fast that you're halfway across town before you remember some fatal objections to the scheme. "You put some of that stuff inside your mask, remember?" you tell her. "To turn, uh—" You have to cast your mind back to come up with the name. "It's Chen under your mask, right? To turn him into a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"So we'll make a new mask," she says with careless abandon. "Actually, I've already been working on some new ones. Got two of them made. Yeah, I was getting ahead of you, but I figured it was better to be prepared." She looses one of Chen's phlegmy chuckles.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," you say after you've digested this. "But that'll give me <i>your</i> memories. I'm gonna need the memories that are inside the mask that Chen is wearing."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea thinks a bit. "Well, let's get everyone together, and see what we can cook up," she says at last.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So, an hour later, four people have gathered up in the gym loft while the obedient golem of Gordon Black stands guard down below. As you talk, the occasional thump of a basketball echoes he makes free throws.<br/>
<br/>
Your quartet: You, stripped of Yumi's mask and clothes and wearing a loathsome extra set of Gordon's too-large basketball shorts; Chelsea, looking like herself again, though still dressed in the much-too-large clothes of Gary Chen; another Chelsea, who is also dressed in a set of boys' workout clothes; and another Will Prescott, looking bemused in his own wardrobe.<br/>
<br/>
After reasoning out a couple of possibilities, Chelsea starts by laying down next to her doppelganger. You pull the mask off the latter, exposing the face of Gary Chen, and drop it onto Chelsea. It vanishes into her, just as though she were a golem, but of course it doesn't change her face, but she does remains asleep. <br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile, to keep Chen from making trouble, you put the golem-Chen mask on him. He wakes up, and a horrifying ten minutes pass as he softly urges you to put on the Yumi mask so he can "fuck you long and hard, like we did all weekend." You're grateful that he doesn't do worse than that.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually the mask comes out of Chelsea, but Chen slaps you away when you try to grab his face. You would have quickly gotten the worst of it in the scrum that follows except that you trip over Chelsea—waking her up—and she with a sharp word puts Chen down. She looks groggy and angry and says nothing else even after you've straddled Chen, pulled his mask off him, and put the Chelsea mask back on him.<br/>
<br/>
"So, did it work?" you ask Chelsea once peace is restored.<br/>
<br/>
"Did what work?" She still looks disoriented. "What happened after I put that mask on?" She throws a haggard, suspicious stare at her doppelganger.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, you just went asleep," you say, passing over Chen's insults and provocations. "The mask just went into you, and then you were out. Just like it was copying you," you add. "Did it copy your memories, you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ask her." Chelsea points to the other Chelsea, who pulls herself into a defensive crouch. "Do you remember this afternoon? After school? What you did?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," the other Chelsea stammers. "I hung out here after classes and watched basketball practice." But her expression is shifty, and you and Chelsea exchange a glance. <br/>
<br/>
"Alright," the fake says after Chelsea has pressed her. "I also remember going over to the Panda Garden and talking to, uh, Yumi. About the tryouts and about how maybe—" She looks at you with a wide-eyed, querying glance. "About how maybe someone could take over and play, uh ... <i>me,</i>" she ends in a squeak.<br/>
<br/>
"So the mask did copy you," you observe to Chelsea, and point to the golem. "It remembers what <i>you</i> did while you were playing Chen <i>and</i> what she was doing."<br/>
<br/>
"And I remember what <i>she</i> did," Chelsea says. "Which is maybe why I've got a headache," she adds, and gently presses one of her temples with the heel of her hand.<br/>
<br/>
"And that means that if we put this blank mask on you," you say as you pick up one of the masks that Chelsea had finished over the weekend, "then it should copy what you remember <i>now,</i> so that if I put it on—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, just get it over with," she cries, and falls back onto the dirty gym mat. "Before this headache turns into a migraine!"<br/>
<br/>
You fight down a grin as you oblige.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a little more mask-shifting and clothes-changing to be done after you've copied Chelsea into a new mask. Golem-Will isn't needed, so you let him go back home with orders not to say anything to anyone about what he saw up in the loft. Yumi's mask is already sealed up in a way that turns someone into your obedient golem, so you pull Chelsea's mask off Chen and hang Yumi's mask on him; you can't help chortling silently at the thought that the fake-Chen will be fucking the real Chen now that the real one is disguised as Yumi. As the new golem-Yumi changes into her clothes, Chelsea puts Chen's mask back on.<br/>
<br/>
"If you have any problems getting the memories out of my mask," she says gruffly once she's awake again and preparing to leave, "you can just hang out here all night. Wait until eleven or so until you go home, then go straight to bed. I'll get rid of Gordon for you," she adds, and a little smirk comes onto the Chen-face she's wearing. "You probably don't want to deal with <i>him.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Even after that promise, Chelsea lingers, and it soon becomes apparent from the light leer on her face that she is looking forward to seeing you make the change into her. But you prefer to do it in private, and push him outside. You watch from the windows over looking the student parking lot until Chen's Jeep goes roaring off, and that's not for almost another quarter hour as Chelsea sits behind the wheel and playing with Chen's cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
But finally, when you have the privacy you crave, you spread out the elements of the disguise and prepare yourself for another change of face.<br/>
<br/>
It had been a drizzly day, but warm, and the last reasonably warm day in the forecast, so golem-Chelsea had taken advantage of it to dress in some summer-like jeans cutoffs and a midriff-baring top covered by a blue, denim work shirt worn unbuttoned. The only concession to the season had been heavy socks and snug sneakers.<br/>
<br/>
You neatly lay all out of these on a nearby crate along with her underthings, then pick up and fondle the mask. By peering closely at it you can make out the lines of Chelsea's face in its surface, like a dim reflection in a pool; and if that were not enough, the name CHELSEA COURTNEY COOPER floats in blue letters over its inner surface.<br/>
<br/>
<i>When I put on this mask,</i> you tell yourself, <i>I'm going to be Chelsea Cooper. The head cheerleader. One of the sexiest girls in school.<br/>
<br/>
And a girl who loves me?</i> you wonder. It scarcely seems possible, but after the way she was talking to you at the restaurant, it doesn't seem like an absolute impossibility.<br/>
<br/>
You'd prolong the moment, but your palms are growing slicker with sweat by the moment, so you drop onto the mat and lay on your back. You hold the mask over your face, and lower it.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment it is very heavy, and it feels like it's crushing the front of your skull. Then a sensation like warm, flowing syrup envelops you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's cold. <i>Why is it cold?</i> you wonder with idle irritation. You turn onto your side and curl up in a fetal position. <i>Where's a blanket? Or at least a sheet?</i> If you're going to sleep with your clothes off in the loft—<br/>
<br/>
You spring to your feet with a hard gasp. <i>The loft! Naked! If any of those perverts that Gordon has for friends comes in and finds you—</i><br/>
<br/>
All the blood rushes to your head, and you grab the edge of a crate to keep from falling over. Once the dizziness passes, you blink and contemplate the clothes laid out on it. Cutoff, midriff, shirt, bra and panties, socks, shoes. Something's missing. You frown. <i>Oh, right!</i> There's supposed to be a mask on the—<br/>
<br/>
And it all comes rushing back, and again you have to grab the crate to keep from falling over. <br/>
<br/>
You are Chelsea Cooper. Except you're <i>not.</i><br/>
<br/>
Except you are.<br/>
<br/>
You look down at yourself. Those glorious globes. They're Chelsea's boobs. They are also yours. You lightly grasp one, and squeeze it. The tip tingles.<br/>
<br/>
Then you leap and squeak. This isn't why Chelsea trusted you with her body, so you could fondle it! She trusted you with it because—<br/>
<br/>
You shiver all over, and the shiver turns into a tremble.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know why she trusted you with it, beyond what she told you: out of gratitude for what you've done for her.<br/>
<br/>
And you're not going to let her down now. You lift your head.<br/>
<br/>
She is proud to be Chelsea Cooper, and you're going to show her that she has a perfect right to be proud of who she is!<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323232111
author_id: seuzz
title: Chelsea's Challenges
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You've got Chelsea's mind and personality inside your skull, but you're the one who almost faints with delight as you get dressed. You snap on the panties and bra, then drag on the cut-offs (which wrap in a tight, sexy way around your ass and hips) and the midriff (which also sticks tightly to you. On come the heavy socks and new shoes—Chelsea <i>hates</i> it when her feet get cold and wet—then drape the denim work shirt casually about your shoulders. You fluff out the soft curls of you blonde, shoulder-length hair. Your eyes bulge a little as you stare down at your strong, toned legs. You stroke them: so smooth and soft!<br/>
<br/>
But a little pout of dismay disfigures your lips as you study yourself in the mirror in the corner of the loft: you're more disheveled than you would care to appear. So from your backpack you take out a brush and stroke out your hair. You apply a little more makeup to cover up the wear of the day, and resettle the clothes. You turn around and around while gazing in the mirror to judge the overall effect.<br/>
<br/>
Really, you are the <i>perfect</i> girl to be in charge of the cheerleader squad! Thank God you finally have a good grip on it and can look forward to adding some good girls who won't argue back with you! Those masks—<br/>
<br/>
But why do you suddenly frown at the thought of the masks? Is it guilt over what you've been doing? Of course not, you've no reason to feel guilty, it's not like you've killed anyone! You just put Yumi out of the way until you could get things the way you want. And if you're having a little fun with her and—<br/>
<br/>
Oh, and as for Gordon, it was his own damn fault for screwing himself up. You're trying to get him back, really you are, you and—<br/>
<br/>
And it's not like the world is a poorer place for losing Gary Chen. In fact, the world isn't missing him at all! From inside his mask you've been whipping his boys into moving even more product, and have been nosing about the junior and sophomore classes to see who down there might start pushing his product among the underclassmen. It's true that you promised—<br/>
<br/>
For the third time you dance away from the name "Will Prescott" and all its association before they can flood over you. It's not that you are trying real hard to respect Chelsea's privacy when it comes to her thoughts and feelings about you. It's just that you're pretty sure you don't want to look at yourself through her eyes, no matter what those thoughts and feelings are.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you brush up against your name hard enough to get a few associations: the skinny guy with the crooked smile and the scarecrow hair and the dorky cap. Not impressive. The opposite of impressive. But sweet.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh God.</i><br/>
<br/>
You freeze in the middle of the loft, right in the act of crossing over to the door.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Will Prescott is sweet!</i><br/>
<br/>
He came when you called him that horrible night that Gordon almost killed himself, and he promised to help out, and he's been super-patient with you, and he's not only helping you with Gordon but with the cheerleader squad as well.<br/>
<br/>
Oh sure, you can guess he's not <i>totally</i> altruistic. No guy is! And you can easily guess some of what he wants to get out of it. You offered it to him, even, that first night, but he backed away. <br/>
<br/>
But he hasn't been gross and obvious about it. Just sweet.<br/>
<br/>
And even though he's kind of rabbity, he still has a backbone. In fact, you muse as you exit and lock up the loft behind you, that might be the reason you kind of like of him. If he just rolled over and did everything you said, you'd <i>know</i> he was just trying to get into your panties. But he argues with you, and he sets boundaries and conditions, like this "you only get to have a couple of masks" business. Sure, he he couldn't stop you if you really wanted more masks, but you do respect that he's not just going along with you in the hope of getting some.<br/>
<br/>
And he's not a turd about it, the way Gordon so often is when he argues with you. Gordon and his stupid machismo. Which is great, you like a guy who's big and strong and used to getting his own way. But you hate it when he tries to run you over like a dump truck.<br/>
<br/>
Will just tells you what he'll do and what he won't do, and how come. He listens when you argue back. Sometimes he gives in, sometimes he compromises, and sometimes he sticks firm. It's like he <i>respects</i> you. You're not sure Gordon respects you. You sure as hell know that his friends Steve and Jason don't. <i>Ycchhh!</i><br/>
<br/>
You're outside by now, and you slide into your car and put the keys into the ignition. After you've got the motor on, you turn the satellite radio to a light pop station, and croon along as you drive home.<br/>
<br/>
Under the steering wheel, you stroke your bare thigh with your free hand.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * *</div><br/>
Once upon a time, Cooper family dinners were always taken in the family dining room. Then Jordan, Chelsea's brother, graduated and started attending Keyserling College, and these days he takes most of his meals with his friends. Then TiVo and streaming freed up the TV entirely from any kind of broadcast schedule, and Chelsea's mom and dad started taking meals in the living room. So it's funny that Chelsea is the last one to take her meals at the dining room table, albeit with iPhone and iPad her brother's repurposed old iTouch spread out in front of her so that she can maintain three different online feeds simultaneously.<br/>
<br/>
So when Mrs. Cooper calls out "Supper's ready!" you drag three devices with you downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
You give your parents quick hugs as you pass behind them in the kitchen to fetch a plate and silverware. Dinner tonight consists of whole-wheat pasta with meatballs and a tomato sauce; a salad; and spiced pears. You go heavy on the meatballs (a tofu/turkey combo) and light on the pasta. To drink: a sparkling water.<br/>
<br/>
The television mutters inarticulately in the next room as you spread out your devices and resume your conversations.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea has been keeping very close tabs on a couple of people, even from behind Chen's mask, and even got together with her golem on Saturday and Sunday night in a deserted parking lot up at the mall to discuss who and what she wanted the public face of Chelsea Cooper to concern herself with. But though you have all of Chelsea's memories and you know what she said and did, you don't know what she was thinking.<br/>
<br/>
So it bemuses you a little to see what she's been concentrating on.<br/>
<br/>
One has been a long-range project: the girls' soccer team. There's been lots of drama there since the start of the year, when Hannah Westrick moved from Eastman over to Westside. The team captain, Anita Nuevo, has her nose all out of joint about it, and she and a bunch of her friends have in a low-level way been trying to make Hannah's life miserable. <i>Amateurs!</i> If Hannah was on the cheerleader squad you'd probably have run her off it by now! It's the kind of intrigue that Chelsea can't leave alone, even though in this case she has no idea who to side with. As a squad captain herself, she sympathizes to a degree with Anita. At the same time, she doesn't like Anita. So for the last few weeks Chelsea has contented herself with stirring the pot. Right now, for instance, she (that is to say, <i>you</i>) are commiserating with Phoebe Beauchamp (one of the girls caught in the middle of the fight) by text over the iTouch.<br/>
<br/>
On the iPad you are getting a report from Gloria Rea (one of your foot soldiers) about the Halloween party that Sophia Van den Berg is holding at her house. It really grinds on you (that is to say, Chelsea) that it looks like everyone is going to go to it. True, you've been so distracted by all the cheerleader drama that you've had no hope of coming up with a rival party. (And, true, the Van den Berg mansion, which is one of the oldest and biggest in Saratoga Falls, is perfect for a Halloween setting.) But you've got Gloria and Kendra digging up all the dirt they can find on it in the hope of finding out some way of spoiling it a little.<br/>
<br/>
And on the iPhone you're pretending to be super-stoked about that same party as you text with Catherine Muskov, who is one of the half-dozen girls helping Sophia to plan it. Right now, she's trying to pitch you the idea of getting Gordon and the other basketball players to dress up as zombies and stage an attack on the house at some point during the evening. <i>LUV it!</i> you tell her while trying to figure out how you could sabotage the raid, or stage it in a way that would cause problems for Sophia.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, aren't you busy?" your mom observes as she strides back into the kitchen with her empty plate. You smile tightly at her, then tense when she comes back into the dining room to retrieve your dinner things. "Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything," she says as she picks up your plate.<br/>
<br/>
You still don't let out a sigh of relief. Mrs. Cooper is a former cheerleader herself, and is still in the kind of trim shape that tells you she was once a pert and beautiful gymnast. It must be <i>killing</i> her to not be helping you out with the latest squad crisis.<br/>
<br/>
And it must be hurting the real Chelsea too. <i>talk?</i> is the one-word text that comes from Chen's phone later that evening. You ask, <i>what abt?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>got ideas on who to add to squad help me get thm so i can try out tmorw and u pick me.</i></span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133232321111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Surprise Candidate
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're intrigued by Chelsea's question, enough so that you ask her who she's got in mind.<br/>
<br/>
And after she gives you a couple of names, a whole lot of things that had been buzzing in the back of your head become a lot clearer.<br/>
<br/>
Together, you settle on a name. The evening is still young, so you get a positive reply when you text Chelsea's identity-to-be and ask to meet up at the Koffee Kauldron. You and Chelsea get there first, of course. The Kauldron is located in the oldest part of downtown Saratoga Falls, where the streets are narrow and twisting, and the parking lots are small and dark. Chelsea—in her Chen disguise, of course—lurks in the shadows behind the Jeep until the car you've been waiting for pulls into the lot. You chirp happily at the girl who gets out, and keep her distracted as the panther-like Chen runs up behind to seize and cover her face with a mask; then you hold the car door open as he throws her inside.<br/>
<br/>
"Lookin' good, babe," he says, and leans in to tear a hungry kiss from your mouth. As he turns away, you grab him and tear a hungry kiss from his. "After we take care of her," you groan, "how about you and me—?"<br/>
<br/>
He pushes you back against the car, his straining cock pressing at you through his jeans, and he covers your mouth with his. Your fingers grapple and explore each other, and you're shuddering with frustrated desire when he finally breaks off so as to duck into the car to babysit your victim until the mask comes out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You'd love a happy ending, but it's not to be. After finishing up the new mask, you pull Chen's face off of Chelsea press it onto your victim. The golem instantly wakes and starts cussing hard at finding himself in some ill-fitting clothes; you put the new mask onto Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
 Then, as you're backing away and congratulating yourself on a good job skillfully pulled off, the golem grabs you and pulls you back into the car, where you collide with his rigid cock. He grunts, and grips you more tightly by the arms.<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, the struggle has jostled Chelsea, and when she mumbles something, you kick her in the side of the leg.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea," you squeal while turning away from the golem's probing tongue and lips, "could you tell Gary to let me go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Over here!" You grab Chen's wrists to keep him from clamping his hands over your mouth. "Gary's trying to finish what we started!"<br/>
<br/>
For what seems like a solid hour there is no reply from the other seat. Only when the golem starts cussing you does she finally stop him with a word. But still he mutters under his breath and calls you many, many foul names until Chelsea tells him to get out and get into his own car.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry about that," Chelsea says in her new voice once he's gone. "I was just trying to figure things out."<br/>
<br/>
"Having problems with the memories?" You clamber back into the car and eyeball your confederate. She looks exactly like the girl who pulled into the lot twenty minutes ago. Only she's wearing Gary Chen's clothes.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure," she says, and she looks vexed. "Remember how I had trouble getting into—" She casts a glance over at Chen's Jeep. "Are you having any troubles with my memories?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope. Had 'em as soon as I woke up."<br/>
<br/>
She frowns. "Well, I'm not getting anything." She looks around. "Maybe if I get dressed. Tell Gary I want him back here."<br/>
<br/>
You have your own repairs to make, so after passing along Chelsea's order you retreat to your own car. You're still repairing and primping when Chen's Jeep goes tearing off and Chelsea comes over. She opens the passenger-side door, but doesn't get in.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to drive around a bit, see if anything comes," she tells you. "It doesn't look like I'm missing anything, based on the texts I'm seeing on, uh, my phone." She bites her lip.<br/>
<br/>
"You had Chen's memories the next morning, though, right?" You ask it even though you have Chelsea's own memories of struggling to get his memories.<br/>
<br/>
She nods. "At least I know where, uh, I live. I'll see you tomorrow," she adds in a distracted tone of voice, and closes the door. You watch her return to the other car and get in. It's some minutes before it starts up, though, and you follow it out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You run a very hot bubble bath when you get home, and shiver deliciously all over as you slide first one small foot, then the other, and finally your taut, toned ass into the silky water. Your nipples prickle and rise, and you part your legs and rub the scented bath water into the tender parts of your body. Just a few hours ago, probably, you would have been too shy about even getting into the tub. But after the deal in the parking lot—the two rough encounters with Yumi's boyfriend, and the talk with Chelsea—you're not shy at all. You know all about her; and she knows that you know all about her; and she knew that you were going to know all about her and would be acting in character.<br/>
<br/>
You're certainly acting in character now as you think about the names that she gave you as possible aliases—and the one that you and she jointly chose for her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sophia Van den Berg.</i> The Van den Bergs are one of the oldest families in Saratoga Falls, and if you go onto the city website you will find at least five mayors with that last name as well as several city council members. There are even a couple of "memorial" buildings in the municipal complex that are named for them.<br/>
<br/>
They were very rich, too, and a hundred years ago they owned half the city, and had the grandest house on Grant Boulevard, directly across from new college. It's still there and still belongs to the family, though it's Victorian grandeur has faded and its gingerbread decor and ornate decorations leave it looking like a cross between the <i>Addams Family</i> and <i>Amityville Horror</i> houses. Which is what makes it perfect for Sophia's Halloween party.<br/>
<br/>
But it's not the house or the party or even the money (though you have the impression that there's not a lot of that left) that arouse Chelsea to such a fury of jealousy that she'd contemplate stealing Sophia's life. It's the cool, superior, "old money" respectability that she exudes. The house may be shabby, and Sophia's car and clothes not as flashy as Kelsey Blankenship's. But "Van den Berg" is still a name to conjure with locally.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Catherine Muskov.</i> She's a girl with a lot more social presence than Sophia, but she still hasn't Sophia's social cachet, which is probably why she's helping Sophia plan that party. Catherine plans and hosts lots of parties. Catherine only has to blast out an "i'm bored" text to get people heading over to her house.<br/>
<br/>
Catherine is effortlessly popular and cool. You probe yourself more deeply with your fingers as you think of how lovely it would be to have her cool and her popularity under your control, and to merge them with your own by bringing her and all her friends into your orbit.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Phoebe Beauchamp.</i> In cultivating the soccer team, Chelsea has discovered that Phoebe is the perfect spot from which to sow discord. She's a neutral in the fight between Anita and Hannah, one of several, but probably the most influential because she has the sweetest disposition. If she quit the squad—to become a cheerleader, say—the other neutrals would probably quit too. You push your fingers in deeper, and gasp as you think of the suddenly short-handed girls' squad being forced to hold tryouts of their own, and of the civil war that would engulf the team as Anita and Hannah vied for dominance.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Andrea Varnsworth.</i> The captain of the swimming team. Slim, cool, imperturbable, inscrutable.<br/>
<br/>
The first girl ever to kiss Chelsea, back when they were sophomores.<br/>
<br/>
You press your hand inside you up to knuckles, and suck hard on your lower lip as you sink up to your chin into the water.<br/>
<br/>
It was very hard picking one. You can understand why Chelsea thought long and hard over the possibilities before she texted you. You understand why she made first one choice, then another, then flipped rapidly among all four as you and she discussed them. Their pros, their cons; the question of how believable it would be if they tried out for the cheerleader squad, and whether it would be worth the shock and surprise if they did. For none of the girls is exactly obvious as cheerleader material, and it will be a surprise to all tomorrow when Chelsea's new identity not only tries out but successfully executes her trial routine with all the flair of Chelsea Cooper herself.<br/>
<br/>
But you were both happy with the girl she settled on.<br/>
<br/>
You're very happy, too, when with an exhausted groan you heave yourself from the tub.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Wednesday morning.</i> This afternoon, after school, you'll run and judge the cheerleader tryouts. The roster is all set.<br/>
<br/>
Well, almost. There's one more girl whose name needs to be added.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Speak of the devil.</i> You are just getting out of your car when you hear someone shout your name. You look around, and smile at the girl who called to you. It's Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
Or, as you'll have to call her from now on—<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133232321112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Expected Competitors
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's pretty obvious that Chelsea is disappointed when you demur, so you call her on Chen's phone just make sure she's not too pissed. You're relieved to find her pretty chill about it.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I get it," she says in Gary Chen's heavy baritone. "Makes sense. It'd look pretty funny if some of those girls tried out."<br/>
<br/>
"But if you want to be one of them," you tell her, "instead of one of the girls who tries out for the squad, I totally get it. You can totally do that." Oh boy, would you be in favor of some of those names she gave you. "I just think that we should keep them and the cheerleader squad separate."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pregnant pause. Then Chelsea comes back with a sigh.<br/>
<br/>
"No," she says, "let's stick to the squad idea. After all the trouble we went through to clean out the troublemakers, I wanna make sure we keep control of it." <i>Which means,</i> she doesn't have to add out loud, <i>that she needs to keep control of at least one of the girls who joins the squad.</i> "Make sure you keep your phone on during the tryouts," she continues, "so I can tell you who I like."<br/>
<br/>
But the next morning brings a snag.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A cold front sweeps through during the night, and Wednesday dawns with a chilly light under broken banks of racing clouds. You dress for the day in cut-offs again, but you wear a leotard under them, and a tight sweater. As you turn around and around in front of the mirror, admiring the contours of your legs and butt and boobs and neck, you decide that today would be a good day for the surviving roster of cheerleaders to take a bunch of selfies.<br/>
<br/>
You arrive—as Chelsea usually does on those mornings when Gordon doesn't pick her up—only five minutes before the first period bell, and spend the first few minutes making some last-minute corrections to your makeup before getting out and striding toward the gym. A very foolish freshman boy whistles at you. You cut him down with a cold glare. He just grins back stupidly, but at least he doesn't run over to talk to you.<br/>
<br/>
Kendra and Gloria are waiting for you in the gym foyer, which is the usual practice, but their fidgety manner suggests they've something else on their mind other than dancing attendance. "Coach Tesla wants to talk to you," Kendra says. "About the tryouts this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"Pff! The old bag better not think she's going to have any say in it," you snort. "Is anyone else here for practice yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yumi and Lin just went in," Gloria reports.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell them to change back into their street clothes," you tell her. "We're going to have a little fashion shoot today." Gloria raises her own eyebrows at that, but you don't amplify, and just lead her into the gym. She ducks into the changing room, while you go looking for Coach Tesla.<br/>
<br/>
The coaching staff have their offices in a rabbit warren under the mezzanine. The narrow hallway is crowded with girls from the basketball and soccer squads, and you smile tightly at Anita Nuevo and Stephanie Wyatt and others as you push past. About halfway down is Coach Tesla's office; the door is ajar, but you knock on it before putting your head in. She looks up at you from behind her desk as you squeeze inside.<br/>
<br/>
It's a tiny office, hardly bigger than a large walk-in closet, it seems, with room for only a small desk, two chairs, and a filing cabinet. An oscillating fan swivels and buzzes atop the latter.<br/>
<br/>
Coach Tesla—a baggy-faced woman with leathery skin and a mouth like a frog—greets you without gesturing you into a seat. "You ready for the trials this afternoon?" she asks in her whiskey-soaked voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes ma'am," you reply with formal politeness. "I've already contacted all the girls and told where and when to meet, and where to get their uniforms."<br/>
<br/>
"You given any thought to spectators?"<br/>
<br/>
"Spectators?" You frown.<br/>
<br/>
"You remember how we had the whole school out here at the end of summer to watch the first trials. You want that again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, well, no ma'am."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't think so." She makes a noise halfway between a grumble and a sigh. "I'll stand out front and keep anyone from coming in, but maybe you can deputize your boyfriend and his friends into clearing out the gym, make sure it's just you and your girls in there."<br/>
<br/>
"That's a great idea!" you chirp. <i>What the fuck am I going to tell Chelsea?</i> you think. "I'll talk to him about right now! Anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
Coach Tesla mutters a negative and lets you go. Just at the end of the hall you take out your phone and shoot a quick text to Chen's number: <i>coach t closing trials to specttors no one alowed n exc tryouts sry!</i><br/>
<br/>
"What's—?"<br/>
<br/>
You jump and shriek. "Sorry," Kendra says, and you glare at her as you will your heart into slowing back down again. "Everyone's here and waiting. What's this 'fashion shoot' thing?"<br/>
<br/>
You beam tightly at her. "Oh, I just thought it would be good for team spirit if we all took a bunch of photos together. You know. Of the <i>original</i> squad."<br/>
<br/>
No one, not even Kendra or Gloria, looks very happy at this idea, but they all go along with it. For twenty minutes you and the others line up in group shots, or single portraits, or small group portraits of two or three of our. Then you change into uniforms and do some more. It's so much fun posing! So the period is almost over before you clap your hands and order everyone to change into workout clothes so you all can take at least one business-like jog around the perimeter of the gym. <br/>
<br/>
A couple of times you catch Cindy and Lin and Yumi whispering and giggling together—a sight and sound that pierces you with anger and paranoia. You have to remind yourself that it doesn't matter what they say or do or think, because it's just the three of them and they can't hurt you now.<br/>
<br/>
Then you remind yourself that there's actually only two of them, that Yumi is one of your spies and she's only pretending with them.<br/>
<br/>
And after that you remind yourself to talk to Gary, and to get a report from him of what Yumi and the others were just saying.<br/>
<br/>
"I want everyone here after the final bell," you tell the gang when you're in the changing room. They're in a state of half undress when you make the announcement, so you get to savor the sight of Cindy and Maria and Kendra and Gloria and Yumi and Lin and Michelle in their bras and panties as you outline the plan for the tryouts. "I want all of your inputs, so I'll have a scoring sheet for everyone to use while watching the candidates. I want this to be a <i>collective</i> decision!" <br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, right.</i> You'll take the scoring sheets home and throw them away without looking at them.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As the day progresses you are sorely distracted by the upcoming trials. At lunchtime Gordon is randy, and he presses up close to you at the cafeteria table and mutters <i>Let's fuck</i> over and over in your ear. You keep your temper, though, for golem-Gordon has been doing this to golem-Chelsea ever since Chelsea moved under Chen's mask, and you just inform him and Steve and the other ballplayers at the table that they need to guard the gym doors to keep anyone from entering after school. "Do we get to watch the tryouts?" Patterson chortles. "You can take turns," you tell him.<br/>
At the start of seventh you finally get a text back from Chen—his silence had been gnawing at you—with a surprising order: <i>tell yumi to video livestrem truout so i can watch on ipad shes all set.</i> You raise an eyebrow at that and send back a curt <i>ok.</i><br/>
<br/>
Finally, the last bell of the day rings. You gather up Kendra and Gloria and Maria Vasquez at your locker and lead them off to the gym; there's a muttering crowd in front of the doors, but a stony-faced quartet of basketball players—Gordon, Steve, Brendan Tummler and Matt Nichols—is holding them back. You squeeze through, and find Cindy and her boyfriend Seth cradling each other in the corner of the foyer. You sniff at them and brush past. Inside the gym, Yumi catches your eye, and you stride over and in a loud voice ask if she knows how to record video on her phone. She nods, and you direct her to keep a "video documentary" of the trials.<br/>
<br/>
You take the western gym while leaving the eastern gym for the rump of the boys' basketball squad to practice on. Fifteen girls trickle out of the changing room and stand awkwardly on the floor while you and the eight surviving veterans of the squad spread out on the bleachers. You stand up, give everyone a short welcoming speech and best wishes, then call out the first name on your list: "Melissa Adams!"<br/>
<br/>
She's not very impressive, and it's not until Olivia Byrne—who had made it onto the squad at the start of the year, only to quit along with Kelsey—that you see someone good. Sydney McGlynn, as you'd anticipated, is terrific.<br/>
<br/>
There are a couple of surprises, too, the most prominent being Dorothy Harmon, who you vaguely know, and Alana Ocampo, who you do not know at all. You shoot Kendra a text after the latter's routine, and she replies: <i>lol rmember hr from last time almost pikced her.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It takes almost an hour to get through the trials, and you dismiss everyone at the end by saying you'll text the two winners tonight. You've a pretty good sense of who Chelsea will pick, of course, but you're not sure.<br/>
<br/>
Then you catch Yumi shaking her head at you, and she holds up her darkened phone.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart misses a beat. With no livestream going to Chelsea, it looks like you'll have to pick the winners yourself.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332323212
author_id: seuzz
title: An Exchange of Possibles
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"But you don't have to offer me <i>that,</i> you gasp out. "I mean, you already have," you quickly follow up, "but that's enough!" You pull her close, and feel the tension running all through Gary Chen's body. "I'll make you the same offer, if you want. I won't take your mask, but if you want to take mine—"<br/>
<br/>
You've got your face so close to hers that you can't see her expression clearly. But she squeezes you gently. "I'll take it," she says softly, "if you take mine."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd give it," you say, "but I don't want to take yours away from you."<br/>
<br/>
She's silent, and so are you. Finally she sighs, but it doesn't sound like a sigh of disappointment, and when you pull back to peer at her, you see a faint smile on her face.<br/>
<br/>
"I understand," she says. "Thanks for, you know, respecting my privacy."<br/>
<br/>
Was that the reason you turned her down? Or did you turn it down because it was such an overwhelming offer you couldn't possibly accept? Whatever the reason, you suddenly blush and hang your head.<br/>
<br/>
"You make it sound like I would have been doing <i>you</i> a favor."<br/>
<br/>
"You want to do me a favor?" she asks suddenly, before you can follow up that very awkward blurt with anything better. "I'll tell you how."<br/>
<br/>
You steel yourself against a request that you let her make herself <i>another</i> mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me pick your second face for you."<br/>
<br/>
Well, that's not quite as bad as you were expecting, but it's still a surprise. "You pick out my second face?" you ask with a sickly grin. "Uh, can you tell me who it is first?" <br/>
<br/>
A mischievous smile comes onto her face. And since it's Gary Chen's face, it looks particularly devilish. <br/>
<br/>
"Tell you what, how about we do it like this?" she says. "I'll give you four names, and you pick one of them."<br/>
<br/>
"Are they on the list? For the tryout?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"But I thought—"<br/>
<br/>
She groans. "Oh, Will. Does it have to be one of them? Or maybe we could get you that second face, and you could try out as her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are any of them good enough?" you ask. You noticed that Chelsea said "her," meaning that they will be the faces of girls, but you'd kind of expected that anyway. "If they're gonna make it onto the squad, they have to be good."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea bites her lip.<br/>
<br/>
You point to the list. "Who's the best bet her for getting onto the team? Of these girls, who's the best?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we won't know that for sure," Chelsea protests, "until they try out." She stares at you, then wilts. "But if I had to guess, I'd say these two. Olivia and Sydney."<br/>
<br/>
"Olivia" is Olivia Byrne, a friend of Kelsey Blankenship's. She's on the swim team, so it's interesting to see that she's willing to make a jump onto the cheerleader squad. And is she any good? Well, she was one of the eight semi-finalists at the start of the semester, and got cut only because her friend Kelsey quit the squad and forced Olivia to withdraw her application. As for the other one— "Who's Sydney McGlynn?" you ask, for you don't know the name.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you have her for any classes? She's new. Like Michelle." Chelsea makes a face. "But she had the good sense not to try out for the squad. Stupidest thing you could do," she mutters, "trying out for the cheerleader squad at a new school."<br/>
<br/>
"So how do you know she's any good?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I've seen her videos. She was captain of the junior varsity squad at her last school, down in Florida or someplace. She's got videos online. She's good enough for us, if she's still as good as she was in those videos."<br/>
<br/>
"So one of those two is for sure? Anybody else?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea points to a few more names, none of which really mean anything to you.<br/>
<br/>
"And the girls you want me to pick from," you say. "You don't even know if they're good enough to make it onto the squad? And they don't even want to try out?"<br/>
<br/>
Instead of repeating her negative, Chelsea only makes a face and shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
You have a sudden inspiration. "Okay, what if, instead of me picking from a list of girls you give me," you challenge her, "you pick from a list of girls that <i>I</i> give you? Ones that aren't on the tryout sheet," you add.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea studies you. "Is that the way you want to do it?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me see your list, and I'll let you see mine," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
So that's what you do. After borrowing a pen from Chen's aunt—who has been ostentatiously not watching you from behind the register—you and Chelsea each write down a list of four names, secretly. You fold them up before exchanging them. Your heart is beating as you unfold her piece of paper—not because you're nervous about the names you'll see, but because you're nervous about what she'll say about the names you wrote down: Bethany Lewis, Hope Bianucci, Kristy Suffolk, and Lacey Salter.<br/>
<br/>
It was a quickly improvised list. Hope and Kristy are basketball players, while Bethany is an adorable swimmer with butter-colored hair that falls to her waist. Lacey is a volleyball player with platinum-colored hair and a blinding smile.<br/>
<br/>
As you're still digesting Chelsea's list—Phoebe Beauchamp, who's a lithe soccer player with long, beautiful hair; Catherine Muskov, who's the captain of the track team and one of the stars of the school social scene; Sophie Van Den Berg, who comes from one of the oldest and most prestigious families in Saratoga Falls; and Andrea Varnsworth, the gorgeous captain of the swim team—Chelsea says, "Yeah, I'll pick a name on your list."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323233
author_id: seuzz
title: The Problem of Patterson
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Loft?" Gary Chen asks again, and he wriggles up closer to you, and pulls you more tightly to himself.<br/>
<br/>
"What if Steve busts in on us?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's got basketball practice."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. So how can we get past him? And what if he decides to hang out up there after practice?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll get Gordon to tell him that he's not welcome up there."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a problem," you insist, and Chen relents with a sigh. "Maybe we need a permanent solution," you continue.<br/>
<br/>
He pauses with his chopsticks in mid-air. "Like how?" he asks, then pops the wad of fried rice into his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"Like I make Steve my second."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't answer right away, not until after he's slowly and completely chewed the rice. "Well, that would work for getting us the loft," he says. "But, uh ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Is there something wrong with Steve?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not if you ask Patterson," Chen snorts. "Fucker. I'd be all for it, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"But what?"<br/>
<br/>
When he doesn't answer right away, you have the sudden and horrible premonition that Chelsea has already secretly replaced him with a golem.<br/>
<br/>
When he speaks again, it's in a stammering rush.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, when I told you about getting yourself a second, and a third, I was kind of expecting that you and me, we'd still be, you know, going together." His arm is still around your shoulder, and you feel it stiffen. "You like us going together, don't you, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," you blurt out. It rather shocks you to think that, yes, you and Chelsea Cooper, though in gender-swapping disguises, are indeed "going out." It shocks you rather more that she is talking like she herself really enjoys it, and is afraid that you don't.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Chen resumes in a voice that sounds smaller and much more feminine. "The thing is, if you make Steve your second, or your third or fourth, you're not going to be exclusive to me. I mean, I <i>know</i> you won't."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because Steve has different girls up in there <i>all the time!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Yes, that's definitely Chelsea talking now. You can hear the furious, envious scorn in the whine.<br/>
<br/>
That doesn't mean I'm going to," you protest. "I can— When we were talking about this, you said you'd let me have a guy as my second, if I put him with a girl as my third. You know, as boyfriend and girlfriend. I could do that with Steve!"<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't want to," Chen says, and the anger still burns in his voice. "Look, I know something about how boys think. I mean, I always have. You don't get to hang out in a place like the loft with guys like Gordon and Steve and not get a pretty ... a pretty fucking big clue what they're like!" His breathing is becoming very labored, and he hangs his head and stares at his plate. "And being inside Gary has really given me a feeling for it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
He nods, and it suddenly strikes you that he's hanging his head in shame. As you watch, his shoulders hunch. "Gary would cheat on you, if he could."<br/>
<br/>
It's a shocking confession.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, no, wait, it's whatever the <i>opposite</i> of "shocking" is. Of course Gary Chen would cheat on his girlfriend. What's shocking is that Chelsea has confessed to it.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think you could help yourself, if you were Steve."<br/>
<br/>
Well, that puts things in a very difficult light. You're about to give up on the idea when Chen speaks again.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, I get what you're saying, how it would be really convenient if we could get him out of the way—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's alright, Chels," you start to say, but he interrupts.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me finish. I suppose I could go along with it, if ..."<br/>
<br/>
You give her time to finish on her own. Then: "If?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you let <i>me</i> make another mask, and make it of a girl, and you <i>swore</i> that Steve would be faithful to her."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Another mask, huh?</i> You should have seen that she might see a way to finagle another one for herself.<br/>
<br/>
"Or," she continues, "you let <i>me</i> have Steve as another mask. And I'll let you be the girl that he swears to be faithful to."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea has raised the stakes enormously. You have no immediate answer, and when it's time to go you just tell her that you'll talk to her tomorrow about your decision. If you've got one.<br/>
<br/>
You turn it over in your mind all night.<br/>
<br/>
When you're settled in your own mind, you've come to a decision that surprises you.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133233
author_id: seuzz
title: Possibilities That Surprise You
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're still absorbed in thinking things through—without coming up to grips with any intuitions, let alone conclusions—when Chen leans over to bite your ear. "Loft?" he asks. "For a little while? Until I have to go in to work?"<br/>
<br/>
It's tempting, but when you ask if that's kind of dangerous to do in the daytime—because neither Yumi Saito nor Gary Chen are supposed to have access to it—he acquiesces, but with the promise that he'll get you up there tomorrow night. <br/>
<br/>
You spend the evening doing homework and streaming through the pictures, posts and memes on Westside's x2z stream. )You're gratified to find that, with no more compromising photos of you and Chen to post, you've dropped off the stream. You scroll through lots of possibilities.) And after sifting and weighing the various choices, you come to a surprising conclusion.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332331
author_id: seuzz
title: Musical Mayhem?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You have never been much interested in music, except for the usual pop songs, and even then you don't pay close attention to anything except the beat.<br/>
<br/>
Even Yumi isn't much for music. Yes, she plays the viola in the Westside orchestra, and though that means she is pretty good, she understands that she is only mechanically competent. Playing the viola is just one of those things that her parents made her do because it was supposed to be good for her, not because they or anyone else thought she had any love or talent for it.<br/>
<br/>
Just like Calculus <br/>
<br/>
But as you scroll through x2z, following a couple of hash tags, there creeps over you a certain curiosity about what it must be like to be musical. As in, <i>really</i> musical. Do people who have real musical talent feel any different from those who don't?<br/>
<br/>
You started down that thread by following a sub-stream about the upcoming cheerleader tryouts. Lots of girls, especially juniors, are saying they are going to try out. Among those that catch your eye is Paris Morrow, one of the Morrow twins that Chelsea pointed out to you as being likely candidates -- for the squad and also for a "second face."<br/>
<br/>
Well, now you can have both a second and a third face; and with one set twins -- the Garners -- off the squad it piques your sense of irony that another pair might step in, if you took both Morrow girls as faces.<br/>
<br/>
You know Peyton, the other one, from orchestra. She plays the viola too, and is better than you, which is what got you thinking vaguely about musical talent. Paris also has some musical talent, apparently: she plays the bass guitar in the school's Jazz Band.<br/>
<br/>
And one thought will lead to another. In this case it inevitably splits into two related thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
One: Jazz Bands are just snooty, official versions of garage bands, like the ones that play at the Warehouse. There's some grungy but attractive people that play in such local bands, and you wonder what it would be like to be in that kind of band and get that kind of attention.<br/>
<br/>
Two: The really serious musicians are in the orchestra, and there are some really good ones. Preston Spinks, who shows up every once in a while to play keyboards when the orchestra is doing a piano concerto, has actually competed in and won at least one national piano championship. Nathan Cruz, the first chair violinist is also very talented, though kind of an insufferable snot. Even David Kirkham, who plays first cello in the school's more exclusive Chamber Orchestra, is taking lessons at the college level. There's some cute and talented girls coming up from the sophomore and freshman levels as well.<br/>
<br/>
After thinking things through, you decide you'd really like to experiment with being—<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323312
author_id: seuzz
title: Banded Together
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There are a number of bands that come out of Eastman, and Yumi even knows of a couple at Keyserling. But it's best to concentrate on someone who operates out of Westside. The three candidates there are Slow Fast Hazel, Lady Steel, and Tiger Driver.<br/>
<br/>
Slow Fast Hazel is probably the most popular of the three; at least, it's the one that you hear talked of the best. It has a hipstery, indie rock/dream pop thing going. Lady Steel is also well thought of, though it strives for a more straightforward, hardcore punk sound. (Some people complain it's too derivative of Dead Kennedys and Black Flag.)<br/>
<br/>
The main problem with the first two groups is that they have only a very loose connection to Westside. Jelena Petrovic of Slow Fast Hazel and Sienna Goldman of Lady Steel are the only two members who actually attend your school; the other members of both bands are either college students or go to Eastman High. There's nothing wrong with Jelena or Sienna -- they're both attractive; and, frankly, both seem more like the kind of girl who'd get entangled with Gary Chen -- but if you're going to deploy three masks, maybe you should pick a band with a firmer presence inside the school.<br/>
<br/>
That would point toward either Tiger Driver or Los Scorchicos, all of whose members attend Westside. <br/>
<br/>
There are two problems there. The kids in both bands all underclassmen (you're not sure, but you think a couple of them are even sophomores) and that could make it hard to keep in touch with Chelsea, unless you set up a third face that could link your new face to Chen or to Yumi.<br/>
<br/>
The more serious problem is that neither band has a good reputation, at the senior level, at least. Tiger Driver is very amateurish, and Los Scorchicos has a very light pop sound and not a lot of range or variety. But maybe that's what the underclassmen these days like.<br/>
<br/>
There might be a third possibility, though. You've heard talk about a guy in your class, Ian Patton, who's pretty talented, and you've heard that lots of people would like to form a band around him. But apparently he prefers to forge a solo career.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chen picks you up in his Jeep the next morning—you have a feeling that's going to turn into a thing with him and Yumi—and on the drive to school is when you give him your choice.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133233122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Cute Ones
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Los Scorchicos?" Chen exclaims. "Fuck!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with them?" you bridle.<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you wanna be some boy band reject wannabe?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you wanna be Gary Chen?" you hotly retort. "He's a reject."<br/>
<br/>
Chen darts you a quick glare, and punches the accelerator to make a yellow light.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you told me I could pick anyone for my second, and this is what I want."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. "Okay. But how come? Not gonna do anything for <i>my</i> cred if I'm seen with them."<br/>
<br/>
You turn away. He's pissing you off, and it's a solid minute before you can bring yourself around to try explaining.<br/>
<br/>
"Because they're popular," you blurt out. Chen snorts softly. "Maybe not with our class! But with the sophomores and them, at least." You ignore the soft <i>Fuck</i> that Chen mutters, and pout as you cross your arms and legs. "That's the impression I get, anyway. And I've never been 'popular', Chelsea." You hook your fingers around the word. "I'd like to be it, see what it's like."<br/>
<br/>
He smirks. "Yeah, I guess Yumi didn't give you a taste of <i>that.</i>" His laugh is nasty—and very Chelsea-like.<br/>
<br/>
You can't keep the frigidity from your voice, even though you try to ignore that jibe too. "There's a difference between being popular as a girl and being popular as a guy. I'd like to try it out. Besides," you add, as though it could possibly impress Chelsea. "I'd like to know what it's like to play in a band."<br/>
<br/>
Well, maybe that latter confession has impressed Chelsea a little, for when she laughs again it's not nearly as mean. "Okay, I'll help you out," she says. "You don't want to be the whole band, do you? Just one of them? Which one?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Busted!</i> You have no idea which member of Los Scorchicos you want, and you also realize you don't even know their names. "I'll tell you this afternoon. I have to make the mask up anyway, so it's not like we can do it today."<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow then," Chen says. The Jeep dances on two wheels as he makes a violently executed left-hand turn in front of onrushing traffic. "I'll get Gordon to play deliveryman again."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Except you don't really narrow it down after scrolling through as many online posts as you can find. Matthew Ghenz and Liam Schoonover are sophomores; Bastian Jankowski is a junior. Bastian seems to be the front man, as he plays the guitar and does vocals, and in his photos he projects a smiling "cool" from under a recurrent hoodie. They all seem to have their partisans. Bastian seems to get the most upvotes when he appears or posts online, but Matthew's partisans seem more intense. Liam looks like he's having the most fun in his photos.<br/>
<br/>
So when you give Chelsea links to their best online pictures that, so she can pass them on to Gordon, you can only tell her "whichever one he grabs first."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're entirely prepared the next day. Not only is the new mask ready to be used, but you've preemptively sealed up Yumi's mask with that "goop" so that you can slap it onto your next victim with no delay, trapping them in the life of Yumi Saito. <br/>
<br/>
But you're not prepared for the agonizing sluggishness that follows. <br/>
<br/>
You don't expect action during first or second periods. Third period brings no news, and neither does fourth period. Chen professes bafflement at lunch: "Haven't heard anything from Gordon," he shrugs. "I'll text you when I do. Be ready to dump whatever class you're on your way to."<br/>
<br/>
By seventh period you are dying, and when eighth period opens with no news, you are ready to murder your boyfriend. "I'll talk to Gordon," he promises you. "Hang loose in the library."<br/>
<br/>
And that turns into an agony too, as it's closing in on five before you get a text from Chen.<br/>
<br/>
<i>wiat for chels call ths eve,</i> he writes. <i>gordon coldnt find ur guys.</i> Your bark of frustration draws a frown from the librarian.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the afternoon drags on. Finally you get a text from Chelsea's number: <i>Hey Yumi, can you come to my place quick meeting? 7:30. Text me when you're parked. Bring all that stuff we were talking about.</i> Your disappointments of the day have ground you down so far that you assume nothing about the purpose of this "meeting," even with the references (as you presume) to the newly made mask and the tub of sealant. But of course you agree to come.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a small cluster of cars in front of the Coopers' house when you arrive. Someone must have been watching for you to add yours to the pile, because you've scarcely rung the front bell when Chelsea wrenches it open and hauls you into the foyer. "Wait here!" she hisses as she grabs your bag from you. "Has this got the things in it?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Whose cars are those?" you ask, but she just runs up the stairs. A door slams. You think you hear voices, but you're not sure. Then more footsteps, and Chelsea summons you to the top of the stairs with a frenzied wave. <br/>
<br/>
You barely have time to notice a figure on her bed, and a glowering Gordon Black in the corner of her bedroom, before Chelsea is shoving you toward the bathroom. "Out of the mask, Will. We don't have much time."<br/>
<br/>
"Who did you get?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll see, it'll work out."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea!"<br/>
<br/>
"You said it didn't matter. This'll help you make up your mind. Will, I need Yumi's mask!" She grabs your face.<br/>
<br/>
You push her away. "At least let me get out of these clothes! I'll rip them to shreds if I take the mask off like this." Rapidly you start to unburden yourself of Yumi's sweater and skirt and shoes and stockings. "We have a minute, so tell me who—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, it's Courtney Tran." Her eyes dart about.<br/>
<br/>
You do a double take. "Who is Courtney Tr—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Get undressed! She's a junior, and she wants to be on our new JV squad. Actually, she probably wants to be on the varsity squad with you and me. She's pushy that way. Get undressed!" She claws at your half-unbuttoned blouse.<br/>
<br/>
"But I didn't ask for—"<br/>
<br/>
"She knows who those guys are, Will! She's not president of their fan club or anything, but she knows them and hangs out with them. With that blonde guy in the hoodie, anyway." Chelsea puts her finger to her temple. "You get inside her brain, then you can figure out which of those guys you want to be. Also, you can use her face to get him alone, or tell Gordon where he's going to be and when so he can grab whoever for you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh.</i> That makes sense, and you resume disrobing. "How did you get her out here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, she wants to be a cheerleader. I all but promised her a spot on the varsity squad."<br/>
<br/>
You're down to your nothings now, and Chelsea helps you onto the floor, where you try to wriggle yourself up onto the fuzzy bathmat and away from the cold tile. You bat Chelsea's hand from your face and grip your own brow. You take a deep breath ...<br/>
<br/>
And not until you feel the mask tearing itself away from inside you do you imagine materializing in your own skin on Chelsea Cooper's bathroom floor, with your junk hanging out in full view of the head cheerleader.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Later, as you are dressing, you wonder what it was that made Chelsea pick Courtney Tran, of all the possible temporary faces, for you. Sure, she knew Courtney vaguely, had already talked to her about the tryouts and gauged her enthusiasm, and surely deduced that she could use that as a lure to get Courtney to her house where she could help you make a trade.<br/>
<br/>
But Courtney is like an even more compact version of Yumi, only Vietnam-inized, and with longer hair. Her cheekbones and dimples are even more pronounced. And when you smile at yourself in the bathroom mirror— Egads! Courtney hasn't got the enormous anime eyes, but she's kewpie cute enough to be a model for some of those anime girls you sometimes see online or on cable.<br/>
<br/>
And so you have to wonder if Chelsea isn't thinking long term by making this mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Plans? Like what kind of plans?" she asks with wide-eyed innocence when you're in Courtney's clothes and out of the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
"Is she going to make it onto one of the squads?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure I don't know. Although—" She puts her fingertip to her chin. "Now that you mention it, she does look like the kind of girl that Yumi could mentor. She wouldn't look out of place hanging out with Yumi and Gary. Don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
Inwardly you groan. This sure seems like confirmation that Chelsea was thinking past your "second" face to at least a third, and thinking that Courtney should be it.<br/>
<br/>
"But mostly I picked her out," Chelsea continues, "because she knows those guys. She does, doesn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
Yes she does.<br/>
<br/>
Courtney isn't close to Bastian, who like her is a junior, but she's known him for a long time, and has always been friendly with him. But she doesn't think of him "that way", even if he has something like the stereotypical "dreamy" looks of a guy in a boy band. Actually, she thinks rather less of him since he got tangled up with Scarlett Bard.<br/>
<br/>
Liam Schoonover is a sophomore, and his online pictures don't do justice to his burgeoning reputation as a party guy. He's already a semi-regular attendee of the Warehouse, and his stated interests are "music, fucking, basketball, fucking, partying, fucking and fucking."<br/>
<br/>
Matthew Ghenz differs from his bandmates in that he comes from a rougher background. All Courtney really knows is that he's very shy, lives in a trailer park, and is scorching hot when he's shirtless.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's Scarlett Bard, the girl keyboardist. Rumor has it that she'll be the band's Yoko Ono before it even gets anywhere.</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323313
author_id: seuzz
title: Classical Choices
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>If you're looking for instrumental talent -- to take over and experience -- there are really only three places to find it.<br/>
<br/>
One is down at the freshman level. There are a lot of up-and-coming string players in the ninth grade class, the two most promising (by acclimation) being Helen Kim and Taylor Smith. You have to wonder what Chelsea would say about that, though. It would be hard for her, in either her own face or Chen's, to hang out with a freshman girl.<br/>
<br/>
Nathan Cruz, the first-chair violinist, is the most dominant personality in the orchestra. In Yumi's opinion, he's a supercilious snot, but maybe he's earned the right to be. Besides leading the ensemble, he leads the smaller Westside Chamber Orchestra, which plays an even more demanding repertoire, and he also took the lead in creating the Wendigo String Quartet, which is the classical music equivalent of the garage bands. Besides the classical repertoire that it plays at snooty social wingdings (for very good money, you've heard) it plays avante-garde pieces when possible, which gives it a radical cachet in certain circles.<br/>
<br/>
And besides that, Nathan is on the school swim team and used to date Kendra Saunders. Maybe with Chelsea's help -- or with another mask -- you could rekindle that relationship.<br/>
<br/>
But if you want to experience true musical excellence, you doubt you could do any better than to get behind a mask of Preston Spinks. He's not the kind of prodigy that gets press attention, but he is the kind of prodigy who wins national competitions against dozens of other prodigies drawn from all over North America. He has even collaborated with a professional orchestra, at their invitation, to record and release a short album. He is also academically gifted, having semi-transcended the AP program to take classes at the local university for high school credit.<br/>
<br/>
He's not a dick, either, in Yumi's experience. He has a very serious demeanor but is friendly in a slightly distant way. He has no girlfriend, despite being quite good-looking though, and that has sparked rumors about his sexuality. Not that there's anything wrong with that, as they say, particularly in the arts world.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133233132
author_id: seuzz
title: The Piano Prodigy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wait almost twenty-four hours before telling Chelsea your decision. You want to be sure of it yourself. And, in truth, you're a little hesitant about what she'll think, for it seems like a goofball choice for goofball reasons.<br/>
<br/>
But after an unhappy night practicing the viola, and getting no joy from it, you decide that this is something you do want. At least to try yout. At least for a little while.<br/>
<br/>
"I've picked my second," you tell her after school on Thursday, while you're up in the loft together.<br/>
<br/>
Well, <i>him.</i> She's still in the Gary Chen mask, and you're wondering what if anything will dynamite her out of it. It's a little after five, and Chelsea's pet boyfriend has told his friends that he needs the loft, so you and Chelsea have it to yourselves. You're naked again, and spent, but Chen is still atop you and inside you, his frame trembling slightly as he burrows his teeth alternately into your neck and into the soft places just above your right breast. You clasp him more loosely, but squirm so as take his member in deeper and more firmly.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh?" he mumbles. "Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Preston Spinks." You hold your breath.<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't break his concentration, not for a moment, and he continues to kiss you. Twice, three times, five times, long and deep. Even when he raises his face, it's just long enough to speak before he plunges back down. "Spinks?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Kiss. Kiss.</i> "Kinda funny choice." <i>Kiss.</i> "How come?" <i>Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. ...</i><br/>
<br/>
"I wanna know what it's like to be musical."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Kiss.</i> "You are musical. Isn't that you sitting next to me in Orchestra every day?" He puts his face in the crook of your neck and sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, <i>really</i> musical. Like, Preston Spinks level. Boss level."<br/>
<br/>
He snorts softly. "You really think it's that different for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Shouldn't it be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why should it be different?" His voice is turning sleepy. "I can play'n ins'rumen'. Not a big deal."<br/>
<br/>
You don't answer right away. You're searching for a metaphor or analogy.<br/>
<br/>
You don't find one.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm not musical. <i>I'm</i> not, I mean. I don't play any instruments and I only listen to whatever I find online. It's gotta be different for someone like Preston."<br/>
<br/>
"Howzit diff'rent for Yumi? She plays'n instrument."<br/>
<br/>
"She scrapes her bow across one. Her parents make her play, the same way they make her study calculus and take AP classes. It's just a thing to do." You twist your head around to peer at your paramour, but you only see a lot of lank black hair. "What about you, Chelsea? Do you play an instrument?"<br/>
<br/>
"Duzza kazoo count?" She's definitely losing consciousness, and Chen's body is starting to weigh heavily on you.<br/>
<br/>
"No, and— Ungh!" You wriggle. "Can you pass out somewhere else please?"<br/>
<br/>
With a groan he lifts up and pulls out and topples to the side. He smacks his mouth and scratches his scalp. "You can do whatever you like, babe." He yawns. "I just ain't fuckin' no Preston Spinks, is all."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't <i>know</i> that he's gay. I don't, anyway. Does Chen know anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"Stands to reason." He rubs his eye. "I know Charles likes to talk about him."<br/>
<br/>
That could cause you to change your mind. "Does Charles say that he and Preston have—?" <br/>
<br/>
"Nuh uh. I don't think Hartlein likes Spinks. Second hand, I hear he's always bad mouthing him. Prob'ly envy." His tone is turning soft and simpering. "Or he wants it bad from Preston and is pissed that Preston's giving it to some other guy in secret."<br/>
<br/>
You're not interested in gossip. "Well, I want to try him out," you declare. "As a face." <br/>
<br/>
You raise your hands and flex your fingers. "As a pair of hands," you add. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your boyfriend doesn't argue any more even after he's awake and the two of you have moved on to eat dinner at the La Cocina Restaurant and Cantina. He's a little vexed, though, when you veto her plan for making the replacement. "It's how we got Gary," he points out.<br/>
<br/>
"We can't do it that way," you insist. "The administration won't like it."<br/>
<br/>
"So what? You'll be Spinks by then, and you'll come down from the loft and tell everyone you were fine with it and Gordon's one of your best friends."<br/>
<br/>
"They won't let it get that far. Anyone sees Gordon with his mitts on Preston, and they'll stop it."<br/>
<br/>
"What makes Spinks so special?"<br/>
<br/>
You give him a look, and remind him of the photograph displayed near the school office. Then you have to explain it to her because neither Chen nor Chelsea know what you're talking about.<br/>
<br/>
You wouldn't either, except that Yumi has noticed it.<br/>
<br/>
It's part of the "Shiny Wall" that runs between the administrative offices and the library. That's what most people call it, on account of the trophies and framed photographs inside the glass cases. The trophies that the basketball, football, soccer, lacrosse, swim, track ... and so fucking on and on ... squads have brought home since the 1960s. Photographs of the honored teams, and of the marching bands, orchestras, or choral groups that have triumphed in competitions over the years. Photographs of teams who have won top honors at regional science fairs, and the like.<br/>
<br/>
But in the entire display, there is only one photograph that honors a single individual, and it wasn't even for an academic function. On his own steam, Preston Spinks last year entered and ascended the serried ranks of the local, state, regional and national competitions for the Maybole International Piano Prize until, at the final round in Taos, New Mexico ("Twice as pretentious as San Francisco," Yumi heard him remark afterward, "with half the oxygen"), he took the top honors in the Young Artists category against competitors from around the world. He kept the fifteen thousand dollar prize, but donated the commemorative medal to the school and sat for a small black-and-white portrait. Yumi has studied it a couple of times.<br/>
<br/>
It shows a handsome young man with a grave expression. His chin is strong and his nose and mouth straight. His hair (a very light chestnut in person) sweeps back from his forehead and clears his ears in loose, close-trimmed curls. He's dressed in a suit and tie, but he's sitting behind a table (or maybe it's a piano), relaxing with all his weight on his elbows. He cradles the side of his head in one hand.<br/>
<br/>
His gaze is very direct, but his features are taut, as though his concentration has been focused entirely elsewhere, and only at the instant the shutter clicked did he notice where he is and what is happening.<br/>
<br/>
It's a look Yumi has often seen on his face, in the German IV class they share, or the few times he has joined the Orchestra to play a muted continuo for a baroque piece. In Yumi's experience he is very reserved, but he doesn't seem like a snob. Shy, perhaps. Or maybe just preoccupied.<br/>
<br/>
With a private music, perhaps?<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, if the school is going to honor Preston Spinks with the sole individual portrait on the Shiny Wall, for a performance that had nothing to do with the school itself, you hardly think they will watch unmoved if a gorilla like Gordon Black locks a meaty arm around his neck and drags him, heels flailing, into the gym and up the stairs into the smelly loft. <br/>
<br/>
"So how are going to get him?" Chen asks when you point all this out.<br/>
<br/>
You don't have an answer until long after you've parted for the evening, when you text him the idea just before going to bed. He is skeptical, and notes that if he's to help he'll have to skip work.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Friday afternoon, fourth period, German. You're very nervous, both for what the conversation portends, and because Yumi herself has never been forward enough to barge up to Preston this way. But after he's slipped into his seat, you walk over to confront Preston. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you say with your best smile. Preston only raises his eyebrows, and smiles faintly back. "Can I ask you a favor?" He blinks, but in a way that signifies "Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm, uh, supposed to give a recital. Just a little thing," you hurriedly add. "My mother's idea. Anyway, we're looking for venues," you continue as he continues to regard you with soft gravity, "and the one my mom's settled on, I don't think it'll work. I think the acoustics are bad, but her attitude is, like, what do I know?" You swallow. "So, I was wondering, could you, like, check them out and tell her that they're bad and we have to find someplace else? Because she'll trust you."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," Preston says without hesitation. His voice is very soft. "Tell her I checked it out with you, and the acoustics suck and you need to find someplace else." His smile widens just a fraction, and a little light of mischief comes into his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. "Could you actually check them out with me? Because, I don't know, maybe they're fine."<br/>
<br/>
"You can probably tell," he says. "Better than your mom."<br/>
<br/>
You persist: "She'd like to hear it from you."<br/>
<br/>
His shoulders sag, but he doesn't lose the smile. "Okay, so where is this place?"<br/>
<br/>
"The old elementary school in Acheson. Can we meet there tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. I'll get Nathan to come too, so you can get a string player's opinion."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Uh oh.</i></span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332331321
author_id: seuzz
id: DB2QV3PQ9
title: Sonata for Six Hands and Two Faces
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"I'm already a string player, and I can have an opinion," you protest.<br/>
<br/>
Preston leans back and cocks his head. "You have a problem with Nathan?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No! It's just that I don't think we need to bother him to come along!"<br/>
<br/>
"Technically," Preston says with a soft smile, "I don't think you need <i>me</i> to come along."<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself crimsoning.<br/>
<br/>
"Then it's okay if he comes along, Preston," you say. "We can make a party of it." You tell him where to meet, and set five-thirty as a rendezvous time.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm in trouble," you hiss at Chen as he presses up against you. Being now, officially, a couple, you are sauntering into AP Statistics together. "Preston's bringing Nathan with him."<br/>
<br/>
"So?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't planning on making Nathan one of my faces!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're saying one gay asshole's enough for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Preston isn't gay! Neither's Nathan! He was dating Kendra last year, remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"She was just his beard."<br/>
<br/>
You stop dead in your tracks. "Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I'm just being mouthy." He pushes you up against a locker and presses his crotch into you. "So you don't want Nathan along?"<br/>
<br/>
You try to ignore the gross come-on. "It would get really complicated to pull off."<br/>
<br/>
He pulls away. "Leave it to me, then."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not going to put Nathan in the hospital," you protest as you resume walking to class, "just so I can get a, you know."<br/>
<br/>
Chen chortles. "Lotsa people would like to bust Cruz in the teeth. But remember who you're talking to."<br/>
<br/>
"I know who I'm talking to."<br/>
<br/>
"No. Who you're <i>really</i> talking to." He pulls you close to his side. "I can set it up easy, so it's just you and me and a guy to tickle the ivories downstairs while we—" He dives in to give you a hard nip in the side of the neck.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chelsea's plan comes together real fast. Even before Orchestra starts, Nathan Cruz, first chair of the school orchestra, swaggers over to where you're tuning up. He's also on the swim team, so he's very lean and swaggers with his whole body.<br/>
<br/>
"So I heard I was supposed to help you out with a sound check after school," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to," you tell him in your most coolly polite tone. But even leaving aside that Nathan is an impediment to your plans, he is kind of a prick, and Yumi dislikes him. "Preston and I can—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm gonna have to bail. Something came up. Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll cry myself to sleep tonight," you mutter as he swaggers back to his chair. You lean over to Chen, who's been concentrating on his own viola. "You heard him?" you ask in a low voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Knew it before you did," he says. "And oh yeah, he's definitely gay."<br/>
<br/>
But it's not until after school—when your boyfriend has chased off the lurkers at the portables so you can work quietly inside one making a mask for Preston—that he tells you how he did it. <br/>
<br/>
"I talked to Chelsea Cooper," he explains as you chisel runes into the metal band. "She's looking really fine these days, by the way." He chortles. "The new squad suits her. Anyways, I told her what to do and she did it. Her and Madison Fortnoy are eating out tonight, to talk about Madison maybe trying out for the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that got to do with—? Oh! Like that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He grins. "You know that Madison is Cruz's latest pathetic try at hiding his sexuality. Chelsea made sure to tell her that Nathan's invited to eat out with them. So, like I said. He's gay."<br/>
<br/>
"I know a hell of a lot of totally straight guys who'd love to to eat dinner with Chelsea if Gordon wasn't there."<br/>
<br/>
"Who says Gordon's not gonna be there?" Chen's laugh is like a hiss. "He'll be there, and I told him to make sure that Nathan keeps his eyes on his food and not on Chelsea. God, that's gonna be an awkward meal!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's having all this fun setting things up?" you ask. "Chelsea Cooper or Gary Chen?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who says it can't be both?" His manner has been drifting in a softer direction, and now his tone acquires a sing-song lilt. "We're a lot alike, Gary and me."<br/>
<br/>
<i>No kidding,</i> you think to yourself. Aloud, you suggest that he start polishing the mask you just cast.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we both like ragging on people," he says as she plugs in the buffer and sits at a desk. "We both have to be the most important person in the group. We both like running things. Although—" The rest of what he says is lost in the whine of the buffer. But there must be a lot of points of comparison, because he keeps talking even though you can't hear him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Five-twenty. The Acheson Community Center.</i> You and Chen are hanging out by the door to the basement. He's going to be late to work, but not late enough it should matter too much. Besides, Chelsea's been talking about finding him another job. <i>Something with more money and less fucking bullshit,</i> she says.<br/>
<br/>
The Center itself closes at five, but that's okay. You want it closed, because it's the basement you need to maneuver Preston into. But you've got an excuse all prepped.<br/>
<br/>
The sun is slanting in the west when Preston pulls up. You're surprised and, in truth, a little dismayed by his wheels. It's a Scion xB, one of those boxy, snub-nosed cars that looks like a cheap, plastic Model-T that melted a little under a hot sun. It's not your style, and you can't believe it's anyone's style. Is it Preston's style? It seems like the kind of a car where the radio would be tuned permanently to National Public Radio; and now that you think of it, Preston does have the look of a faithful NPR listener, at least in larval form.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," he calls as he gets out. "Something came up and Nathan couldn't make it." His eyes go to Chen, but he doesn't flinch or color. "Hey Chen." It impresses you that he knows not to call your boyfriend "Gary" to his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Pres'n." Chen puts out a hand and twists Preston's in a complicated, manly shake. "My man Kirkham says you're playing with the Wendigo next month."<br/>
<br/>
"That's the plan. I need to look at the music." He looks around. "How do we get into this place?"<br/>
<br/>
"Down there." You point to the basement door, and pull yourself out of your boyfriend's clasp. You're also struck by Preston's lack of reaction to seeing you with Chen. "The main doors are locked, but we can get in through the basement."<br/>
<br/>
"The basement? And the place is closed?" Preston's faint frown deepens. "You sure we should—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, man, don't be a pussy," Chen says. "Been in this place lots of time. This auditorium we want you to check out? Got burn marks all over the floor from all the joints people've dropped after hours."<br/>
<br/>
A slow grin spreads across Preston's face, big enough that you can see the tips of his teeth. "Charming venue your mom's picked out," he tells you. But with a shrug, he follows Chen down the short flight of stairs to the door. You take up the rear.<br/>
<br/>
You got the lock off already, so your partner just has to open the door. Then its down another short flight of stairs to the floor below. The air is dustier than you remember, and in the failing afternoon sun it is already very dim.<br/>
<br/>
But you prepositioned the mask, and in the dark even you don't see it when Chen sweeps it up off the table. He turns in one smooth motion to mash it to Preston's face, then catches your victim under the arms before he can topple, and heaves him onto that same table. "Better close the door," he says as he sweeps Preston's feet up onto the dusty surface. "There lights in this place?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but we should keep them off," you say as you push the door to. "No one's ever bothered me here before, but we don't want them to start."<br/>
<br/>
"There really another door in here?" Chen asks as he looks around. "Or were you jerking me and Paderewski both?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me, and when did you ever hear of Pader—? Is that really how you say his name?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, that's where I heard of him, and yeah, that's how you say his name. Snobby cunt." His white grin floats in the dark. "Chen Guangli was top of his accelerated classes three years running when he was in elementary school."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shit you not. But that was before he figured out there were better ways of getting respect. And what's that motherfucking math class I'm doing better than you in?"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, you made your point." You rub your arms, for it is cold and it's going to get colder. "I suppose I better start changing."<br/>
<br/>
"You can wait till Spinks gets done copying, can't you? No fun fingering Will Prescott while he's asleep."<br/>
<br/>
You feel a little pang at that jibe. Yes, Chen wouldn't want to have fun with Will Prescott's body, but you kind of hope, after all you've done together, that Chelsea Cooper might.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, you've been under Yumi's mask so long that she might have forgotten what you look like.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm gonna look around this place," he says after you've not answered. "Betcha there is another door. Most of this shit they couldn't'a gotten in through that door over there and down those stairs." He pushes through the stacked furniture, shoving it roughly aside as he goes.<br/>
<br/>
You watch, then impulsively hop onto the table next to Preston. There's no point in delaying things. Once you get your clothes off you can take Yumi's mask off. You already filled it with goop so that it can be transferred onto Preston, and Chelsea can take care of that step.<br/>
<br/>
You are shivering hard once you have your clothes folded and laid neatly aside, and you waste no time laying back and grasping your face.<span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323313211
author_id: seuzz
id: T8Z45G8N5
title: Fugue for Two Minds
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>It's dark and it's cold when you open your eyes. You're lying on a hard, flat surface that is even colder than the frigid air that whispers over your bare skin.<br/>
<br/>
This is what you've always imagined it's like inside a tomb.<br/>
<br/>
Your brow furrows. <i>When have I ever imagined myself inside a tomb?</i> you ask yourself.<br/>
<br/>
The question, you find, has two answers: <i>Never</i> and <i>Sometimes, vividly.</i> You draw in a deep breath, and exhale.<br/>
<br/>
There is no surprise in having two answers to that question. If you probed you could find two answers to most questions. Birthday, Social Security number, home address, name of first grade teacher.<br/>
<br/>
Awareness of this duality steals over you very calmly, because your instinct is always to examine a situation carefully before getting excited. <br/>
<br/>
Wait— Is that your instinct? Well, it's somebody's instinct.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you calmly reflect: It's Preston David Spinks's instinct. And you don't have to touch your face or feel your hair to know that you are Preston David Spinks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Being somebody else.</i> You probe at the sensation, like feeling at a cavity with your tongue. It's an interesting sensation, you reflect as you stare at the dark ceiling, and one you feel undecided about. Not that it matters much what Preston Spinks thinks of the ethics of it matter. It only matters what Will Prescott thinks of them.<br/>
<br/>
And he apparently has decided to throw ethics to the wind. You rub your brow.<br/>
<br/>
"So you're finally fucking awake," a voice sounds. You look over sharply. There's a dark silhouette showing against one of the windows. "About time," Chen continues. "I was about to go. I still got work I have to get to, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"So go to work," you reply. "I can lock up. Where's Yumi?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sent her home. I figured you could call if you had anything to tell her."<br/>
<br/>
You only nod. No point in wasting words. Not even the words <i>So I guess you got Preston's mask done and put on me before I woke up,</i> which is too obvious to need stating.<br/>
<br/>
"So I'll take off now," Chen grunts. "Am I gonna see you tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are we rehearsing the Brandenburg? Maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna have his memories and shit by then?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so." You go back to staring up into the dark.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you don't spend a lot of time on that slab-like table after Chen has closed the door behind him. It's too cold, and as soon as you hear him drive off you lever yourself up and feel about for your clothes. Boxers. White undershirt. The size-Large heavy cotton white shirt that looks like a dress shirt from a distance but is far more comfortable because it is baggy and it breathes. Khakis with a belt. Dark wool socks and the broken-in casual loafers. <br/>
<br/>
And the tie. It's so much a part of Preston's standard look that you doubt it attracts much notice anymore. Chen only loosened it when taking it off the original, and you slip it on now, like a noose, and cinch it only partway up, just below the second-from-top, unbuttoned clasp of the shirt. The baggy sleeves are already rolled up to just under your elbows.<br/>
<br/>
The look of a white collar worker who has unbound himself so he can bend seriously over his job.<br/>
<br/>
You take out the phone and study yourself on the screen. That one troublesome curl of dirty-blonde hair has broken free and is dangling across the top of your forehead, like Superman's spit-curl. You push it up and hook it back in place. Your skin is clear and tight. Your eyes ... Well, there are two of them, and they are the expected hazel color. You drop your phone into your breast pocket and shake yourself into your new ensemble.<br/>
<br/>
After locking up you turn toward the car. Now you feel your face tighten. No, it isn't Preston's preferred style. He might not know what his style would be—probably a Honda Accord, something efficient and invisible and modestly graceful, not this ... box. Well, his mom does listen to NPR and she does work at the university in the bursar's office, and this was the family car before they finally bought a new one and passed this ten-year-old heap to Preston. But it gets him around, and the mileage is decent. Other than that, he prefers not to think of it at all.<br/>
<br/>
Not until you have put the keys in the ignition do you stop to raise your hands and examine them.<br/>
<br/>
Your hands. The reason you are even here.<br/>
<br/>
They look like ordinary hands. You flex them. They feel like ordinary hands. But the fingers, as you grip and rub them, are very powerful. So are the hypothenar muscles, the ones on the outer edge of the hands, the ones that control the pinkie finger. They bulge outward, and are as firm as rocks. You waggle your right pinkie and ring finger, as though executing a high trill.<br/>
<br/>
That's new. That's something you didn't have as Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, it's not a fastball or high jump or anything that would look good on a gym court. But it's one set of muscles where you're sure you outclass everyone at school.<br/>
<br/>
But will they work?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Mac and cheese are on the stove," your mom calls from the living room, where she and your dad are eating in front of the TV. "Did you help your friend?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so," you call back as you cross through the dining room into the kitchen. "We were both pretty happy when we left." Preston had given his mother no details when he texted that he'd be a little late for supper, so you don't add any more now. From the cupboard you fetch a bowl, into which you spoon some very orangey, very cheezy Kraft macaroni. Chopped up hot dogs bits float inside it. <i>The Friday night special.</i><br/>
<br/>
You take it down the short hall to your bedroom, which you close it behind you. Then through the <i>other</i> door in the bedroom, closing it as well, into the "conservatory." That's what your mom insists on calling it. To Preston, it's just the practice room.<br/>
<br/>
Half the space is swallowed up by the Steinway, and after flicking on the light you lean past the padded bench to fiddle shut the Venetian blinds that hide a floor-to-ceiling window. Scrunched up on the other side of the room is a drafting table, which can be tilted at an angle or lowered flat. It's flat now, and you set your bowl on it and pull up the stool, and crouch over your meal while flipping idly through a book on Renaissance art. Preston has lately decided to try broadening his artistic interests. He's learned a few things from the book, but for now it's still just a lot of pretty pictures.<br/>
<br/>
The way music for so many people is just "cool sounds."<br/>
<br/>
You try not to think about the piano two feet behind, and the music book sitting on it.<br/>
<br/>
Because what if it doesn't work? (Preston's talent on the piano, that is, not the piano itself.) Yes, sure, you had Yumi's ability to play the viola, and to execute a triple somersault off the top of a pyramid, when you were wearing her mask. Surely you will be able to execute at least <i>some</i> of Preston's skill on the piano.<br/>
<br/>
But what if the masks only copy so much, or so deeply? What if Preston's talent reaches a depth or a subtlety that is beyond the power of the mask to copy?<br/>
<br/>
You chew your mac-and-cheese very slowly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>He's technically superb, Dr. Giers said when you showed him the video your mother had sent you, and he fluttered his fingers in the air. Look at them dance! Like two little octopusses! So fast, not a slip, not a fault! He's like a little typist. But that's all he's doing. Typing on the piano.<br/>
<br/>
He gently grasped your wrist and pulled it to him, your little hand turned palm up and opening like a flower. He traced a path from one of your finger tips to the wrist. <br/>
<br/>
That, he said, is where the little boy is good. But here—he traced his fingernail up your forearm and past your elbow up to your shoulder and neck and to your temple—is where a real musician is good. All the way up, and most of it—he tapped your temple gently—is in there!<br/>
<br/>
He dropped your hand. You have it, Davey, he said, using the nickname your parents still sometimes use. I close my eyes and I listen, and I don't hear typing. Not like him. Clickety-tap, clickety-tap!</i><br/>
<br/>
You grip the fork in your right hand, and turn your left hand palm up. <i>Is it a little five-limbed octopus, and that's all? Will you type, even with Preston's hand and brain? Clickety-tap, clickety-tap?</i><br/>
<br/>
And will you be able to tell if you can't? Preston has recorded himself, and studied the recordings, and he knows that what feels beautiful in the mind and supple under the hands can sound stilted and mechanical in the objective ear.<br/>
<br/>
This isn't just you worrying. Preston has worried about it too, worried that whatever gossamer-fine wires Dr. Giers traced from his fingers to his brain, that allowed Preston to make <i>music</i> and not just musical typing, might one day snap or melt.<br/>
<br/>
What if this is the day it happens?<br/>
<br/>
You scrape the bowl clean and even lick up some of the cheese sauce with a fingertip (manicured, with a strong, shining nail). You take it back into the kitchen, to rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. You pack up the rest of the mac-and-cheese, too, for leftovers, and run hot, soapy water into the pot. You scrub it.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you procrastinating?" your mom calls over the muffled din of the TV.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes!"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought so! Stop cleaning up the kitchen and practice!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>I don't "practice"</i>, the irritable thought forms. <i>I play.<br/>
<br/>
But will I?</i><span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1131221121112111112231322133233132111
author_id: seuzz
id: B6QBH56WH
title: A Little Nighmare Music
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>The phone in your pocket vibrates on your way back to the piano room. It's Nathan Cruz: <i>call?</i> He knows better than to just interrupt you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>k</i>, you reply once you're back in the practice room. You sit at the piano and balance the phone on the rack next to a fat music book: Chopin's <i>Etudes.</i><br/>
<br/>
You open and slowly flip through it. You are still drinking it in with rapt wonder—at the way the dots and blurts and scratches on the page transparently organize themselves into comprehensible musical phrases, just as letters of the alphabet turn into words and sentences—when the phone again vibrates. You tap the screen. "Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" Nathan exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
Your lips twitch. "How was dinner with the cheerleaders?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pfah!" The exclamation almost jolts the phone off the music rack. "Chelsea brought her rhinoceros boyfriend with her," he continues in a low, strangled snarl. "He had his arm around her the whole time, glaring at me like he was a dog and she was a bone and I was thinking of taking her away from him."<br/>
<br/>
"Football player?"<br/>
<br/>
"Basketball. Gordon Black! You know who <i>he</i> is!"<br/>
<br/>
That small smile sticks to your lips. "Oh him. Basketball player, right? Looks like a rhinoceros, is dating the head cheerleader?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know you're trying to be funny but you're not."<br/>
<br/>
Your smile widens as the pages of the Etudes continue to fall away under your thumb. "Did Madison have fun? I thought that was the point of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh sure," he grunts. "She and Chelsea talked gymnastics the whole time. Meantime, I'm trying to look anywhere except at the other side of the table. Okay, some of the time I was picturing Madison doing all that tumbling and bending but, you know, while not wearing any panties. Maybe that's why Gordon got mad, he thought it was his girlfriend I was fantasizing about."<br/>
<br/>
"You sure you weren't?" You stop and hold the <i>Etudes</i> open to the No. 5 (Opus 25), and grin at the slapstick dissonances.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, okay, in the fantasies, Chelsea was there and naked and doing it right alongside Madison."<br/>
<br/>
You glance at the door, to make sure it's closed. "Didn't Kendra do any of that kind of tumbling for you?"<br/>
<br/>
That provokes a long pause, and you resume flipping through the Etudes. "No, and Madison's not doing anything like that for me either." Nathan's voice tightens. "And if she doesn't start soon I'm gonna start looking for somebody who will."<br/>
<br/>
"You're a pervert."<br/>
<br/>
"Then so's every other guy who wants it! Jesus! What about you?" he asks after a pause. "Or are you still living off that girl you met in Hawaii?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Lani.</i> A girl at the conservatory where Preston studied for three months over the summer. A wonderful present, and one more than a little beyond his family's means. (The three months at the conservatory, not the girl.) "I guess so."<br/>
<br/>
"You thinking about Susie, maybe asking her out?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Nathan," you sigh, and let the Chopin flop shut.<br/>
<br/>
"You at the piano?" he asks. "You looking at the quintet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sort of," you say. You cast a guilty glance at the far corner of the room, where the discarded score of the Wuorinen piano quintet lies. Preston kicked it there in a moment of exuberant frustration.<br/>
<br/>
"So can we do it?"<br/>
<br/>
You rub the side of your temple. "Can you even <i>read</i> the damn thing? Even if we can play the notes in the right order, we're none of us going to keep together."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what makes it perfect," he chortles. "As if a bunch of drunks at an arts slam are gonna be able to tell if we're playing it wrong."<br/>
<br/>
A hot feeling, like the head of a burning match, runs up the side of your face. "I'm not going to do a thing with you if you're going to treat it like a joke."<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, Pres'n! Kirkham says he'll bite the head off a live chicken at the top of the fourth movement if we do it."<br/>
<br/>
You stiffen all over. "I'll do the Amy Beach quintet with you."<br/>
<br/>
Another suppressed gasp. "That's nursing home music! We can't play that at an arts marathon!"<br/>
<br/>
All the muscles along your jaw tighten. "She's an overlooked female composer. It'll be a statement."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," he growls. "At least it's not the Schumann again. But if the organizers give us a second slot, can we at least do the first movement of the Wuorinen?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but maybe you can get Kirkham to set his cello on fire onstage."<br/>
<br/>
Nathan makes a kind of choked, snorting noise. "He might do it. But can we get together tomorrow? All of us?"<br/>
<br/>
"To look at the Beach? Sure, I'm free all day." So Nathan says he'll text you when he's gotten a time commitment from the other three members of the Wendigo String Quartet.<br/>
<br/>
You notice that he didn't ask you about Preston's appointment with Yumi, which he was supposed to join.<br/>
<br/>
After checking to see if any other texts have come in, and straightening up the studio a little, you shake yourself inside the already loose shirt and pull down the knot of your tie a little more. Then you open the Chopin back up.<br/>
<br/>
It should be a guilt-free relief to play through a few of them, now that you don't have the Wuorinen hanging over your head. You actually felt a shameful glee at Nathan's tasteless crack about no one knowing if it's played right, for it gave you the opening to trash it and substitute—<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Okay, all this guilt and second-guessing? It's pure Preston Spinks. You're just along for the ride. You're sitting somewhere inside his skull, letting all these words and thoughts and emotions come popping out as your new body glides along on automatic. <br/>
<br/>
No, that's not true. Those thoughts and feelings <i>are</i> all racing through you, like an electric current through a coil, and you <i>are</i> bending to them by fiddling with your clothes and glancing in a sweaty kind of way around the room. But you barely understand what you're saying and why you're saying it.<br/>
<br/>
But no, even that's not true. Because every time you say something, there comes with it, like a bright, lingering flash of sheet lightning, all the explanations and associations. They don't fade either, but become a familiar and faintly glowing part of your mental landscape. You <i>know</i> what Preston knows and feels, and why, and you know and feel those things too. Intimately. <br/>
Like the knowledge that Charles Wuorinen is a twentieth-century American composer of serial music—the sort of plonking, jangling, jerry-built stuff that sounds to most people like a piano falling down a stairwell and hitting every step on its way down—and that Amy Beach was an early twentieth-century female composer in the late Romantic tradition. <br/>
<br/>
Like the fact that the Wuorinen quintet, though intellectually fascinating, has been giving Preston a low-grade migraine—and a very bad conscience—as he dodges his promises to study and maybe perform it with the Wendigo String Quartet at the Keyserling Arts &amp; Sciences Winter Arts Marathon in two months.<br/>
<br/>
Like the firm conviction Preston has that it is <i>important</i> to rediscover and represent the work of female composers, and that even if the Beach is ... <br/>
<br/>
Okay, Nathan went too far in calling it "nursing home music." But yes, at a college arts marathon the Amy Beach piano quintet would smell just a little too much of lavender and old lace. It has too much the roundly padded shape of a grand dame in a bustle and floor-length brocaded skirt.<br/>
<br/>
Now, all of this you know and you feel, and you know and feel it as certainly as Preston Spinks does.<br/>
<br/>
But you also feel that it's one thing to understand Preston Spinks from the inside as he carries you along—<br/>
<br/>
Because there's more to being Preston Spinks than thinking and acting for him. To really <i>BE</i> Preston Spinks—<br/>
<br/>
You tense.<br/>
<br/>
You can't know unless you try.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly you flip through the Etudes again. It's just like reading a book. The chord progressions and melodic layers are as transparently intelligible as the tempo instructions. And you savor the associations that come with each piece. <i>Winter Wind. Butterfly. Thirds. The Horseman. Bees.<br/>
<br/>
Aeolian Harp.</i> Your right hand drops to the keyboard and caresses the shape of the arpeggios. The tendons in your hand tighten.<br/>
<br/>
You slap the book shut.<br/>
<br/>
Like every performer, Preston has suffered performance anxiety, but never with such good reason. Usually when it happens, it happens before an actual performance, when the ass is on the bench but the fingers have yet to engage. That harrowing moment of hesitation never lasts long, though, because the performance has to <i>start eventually and soon,</i> and once you pierce the surf it's a brutal matter of swimming or sinking. (That analogy occurred to him while on Maui.) <br/>
<br/>
But private anxiety attacks, like now? Well, those happen too. The dreadful premonition that today the fingers won't work; the loathsome conviction that the piano looks too much like a dead walrus, and will be just as responsive under prodding. Sometimes there will be a run of such days, and a burning haze will hover in the practice room, leaching away all love and life and ambition, leaving Preston a rattling husk, too drained to be even mechanically proficient.<br/>
<br/>
Then the haze will lift and the talent will return and all will be as if it had ever been.<br/>
<br/>
You lightly rub the sensitive underside of your forearm, where Dr. Giers once traced the golden cord that connects fingers to mind. You trace it now to the pit of your elbow, then leap to rub at your temple, where <i>maybe</i> it plugs in. <br/>
<br/>
But if so, what to? To the mind of Will Prescott, who has no talent to pour into the hands? <br/>
<br/>
Or to the mind of Preston Spinks?<span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332331321111
author_id: seuzz
id: L24T4R4Y5
title: The Right Key
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You have find out sooner or later. Sooner is better. Then if the worst is true, you can pull out and return Preston to normality before you embarrass yourself.<br/>
<br/>
You drape your left arm over the edge of the music stand, and rest your forehead on it with your eyes shut. You lay your right hand on the keys. You hold them there, then firmly press and hold the key under your ring finger. <br/>
<br/>
F4. The tone rings out, and hangs.<br/>
<br/>
Your lips twitch. <i>So far, so good.</i><br/>
<br/>
Down you drift, via middle finger, index finger and thumb, to C, then swing back up to hold the D. The keys are pleasantly resistant; you are <i>pushing</i> the notes into the air. <br/>
<br/>
Slowly you drive back up to A, make a brief turn back, then ripple up to C before falling back onto the B-flat. You'd intended to stick to the white keys, but your fingers surprised you. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Instinctual improvisation.</i> You're not composing, but you're not noodling either. You're returning to childhood.<br/>
<br/>
Someone else's childhood, it's true, but your mind is now pressing too deeply into the piano for that technicality to register.<br/>
<br/>
Your first teacher, Dr. Giers, had a bizarrely unorthodox pedagogy, and you have never been sure whether it deepened or retarded your musical training. You were seven when you started, and at first Dr. Giers asked nothing but that you run your fingers up and down the keys while learning the names of the notes and how to read them on paper. You could only use use stepwise motion, and only the white keys, one hand a time. You had to keep your eyes shut, too, and he would gently quiz you, when you paused, about which note you were lingering on. <br/>
<br/>
Three months passed, and then he let you put both hands on the keyboard, but still it was only stepwise motion on the white keys and it was still <i>you</i> making the melodies instead of learning ones chosen for you. But he encouraged you to play with dynamics—making it <b>LOUD</b> or <i>soft</i>—and with mixing up the tempos and rhythms. He also encouraged you to experiment with finding which notes sounded good when played together and which ones didn't.<br/>
<br/>
You have now driven the melody up to D5, and now you take it back down to D3 before returning to rest on middle C. With eyes still closed, you drop your left hand to the keyboard to add a second voice to the first: now moving in parallel thirds to the upper voice, now resting or dropping slowly away from the upper line in contrary motion. The notes never clash, but the two melodies have nothing to say to each other. They are like two diners in a restaurant, talking on their cell phones, with no knowledge of the other.<br/>
<br/>
Your teacher gradually added black notes to your set of toys, sometimes while taking white notes away. He also allowed you to add skips of a third, then of a fourth, then a fifth. He made it a kind of game, like hopscotch for your fingers, and while you weren't looking the sounds of the notes and intervals seeped upward into your brain. Soon you could imagine, without playing or even looking, the name and sound of each tone, and the shape of each sequence, and could guide the fingers of each hand separately so that, as they do now, the melodies slithered and twisted about each other without clashing.<br/>
<br/>
When Dr. Giers finally gave you musical pieces to study, they were early church music: the monophonic plainchant of the monasteries, arranged for a single hand. It was hardly different from what you had been making up on your own, so you slid easily into them, and found their patterns already familiar. Then he gave you easy polyphony, first in two voices, then in three, still drawn from the monastic houses of medieval Europe. Still, just as when you were making up melodies on your own—and he still made you to do that—the goal was to feel them sliding through and among and away from each other.<br/>
<br/>
You add a third voice now, the fingers on your right hand twining two of them about each other like pretzels as your left drifts first toward and then away. You markedly increase the tempo, and confidently adding mordents and trills, giving the curtain of sound you're weaving a brilliant, trilling sheen.<br/>
<br/>
Dr. Giers led you then into arrangements of medieval and Renaissance works, in rigid historical order: Binchois and Dufay, Ockeghem and Isaac, Palestrina and Byrd and Gibbons. He was leading you through the history of Western music as it had evolved, so that your skill evolved in parallel with the culture's. He set no wild shifts of styles to confuse you, and didn't ask you to master the roiling chords and arpeggios of the Romantic repertoire one week, and the intricate counterpoint of the Renaissance and Baroque the next. Instead the musics under your fingers accumulated and evolved, acquiring new layers and shedding old ones, just as they had in historical reality, in what felt like a natural and inexorable progression.<br/>
<br/>
And so when you at last met Bach and Handel, Scarlatti and Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven—you were twelve by then—you calmly assimilated them as far distant but recognizable enhancements of the music you yourself had been making at the age of eight. You felt you knew them before you'd even met them, and it only took technique and practice for you to absorb them. They are like parts of your muscles now.<br/>
<br/>
That's when Dr. Giers released you to teachers who would hone and sharpen you technically, and could take you up to and then through the twentieth century.<br/>
<br/>
You are moving very fast over the keyboard now, your hands leaping and your fingers striking as you push melodies out of the strings. You've left your own improvisations behind, and if you're not playing the old Flemish masters, you are embellishing on melodies and rhythms you learned from them. <br/>
<br/>
With a sudden spasm of impatience you stop. There's a slight fluttering in the shallow muscles of your chest. <br/>
<br/>
The training is there. <i>Of that there's now no doubt.</i> <br/>
<br/>
But what about technique? <br/>
<br/>
You peel the Chopin open to another etude, drop your right hand onto a cluster of black keys and rest it there.<br/>
<br/>
Then, as though a switch has flipped in your brain, your fingers are sweeping up and down the keyboard, drumming the keys like the wings of a very angry hummingbird.<br/>
<br/>
Twice you repeat the opening quartet of measures, right hand only, hammering out the triplets, before you start dropping heavy, staccato chords with your left hand. At the end of the sixteenth measure you dart back to make the first of many repeats of that opening section, to violently raise and lower the dynamics with each pass, and to sharpen or dull or move the attacks: banging <b>HERE</b> and then <i>THERE</i>, screwing the energy up or taking it down to a gasping nothingness. You do the same with the last section, cycling through one- or two- or four-measure blocks while hurling new shapes and colors into each repeat.<br/>
<br/>
After five or so minutes of this—a piece that should only take a hundred seconds to play all the way through—you slam out the final chords, then fall back to gently squeeze and pull at your hands. The door opens and your father puts his face in. "Couldn't think of the ending, huh?" he squawks in a put-on Brooklyn accent. "Funny, I couldn't think of anything else!" He vanishes before you can lob a retort.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, the technique seems to be there as well. But what about the music? <i>Ay, there's the rub.</i><br/>
<br/>
You heart is thumping as you bring up the recording app on your phone. The sound quality will be terrible, but it will be enough to tell you what you want to know.<br/>
<br/>
The Bach D major toccata is one of Preston's—<br/>
<br/>
<i>No!</i> You grit your teeth. <br/>
<br/>
It's one of <i>your</i> showpieces! A competition piece, an encore piece, a piece you flee to when you need reassurance. <br/>
<br/>
But it's a test piece now, for technique and familiarity will not be enough to carry you through it. It's wily, with lots of bare spots and brutal juxtapositions to expose a careless interpreter. Preston thinks of it as a drama with multiple characters, and his job is to intelligibly lay out the story they are enacting.<br/>
<br/>
So you gradually darken and dent the bell-like opening chords as they descend the keyboard—a fall from splendor into purgatory—and let the final chord hang and fade uncertainly before the snake (as you imagine the sequel line) slithers out and coils into a deceptively sunny cadence. The air of falsity continues in the subsequent Allegro, which you play as a chatty monologist—a clever stage wit who is all tossed-off <i>bon mots</i> and empty banter—until the end, when the bass abruptly blackens into the minor mode and with glowering menace begins stalking a now-rattled soprano voice. You linger on the penultimate cadence, then nip at your right hand with your left as it flees upward and away in fright, before bringing them together in a watchful detente on the tonic.<br/>
<br/>
The Adagio is an arid, Beckett-like dialogue between a polite, almost foppish soprano and a truculent, growling bass: a conversation that scratches along vexatiously until—the moment is almost surreal—it turns into a hypnotic double fugue that is like a gavotte for two spiders. But in the brief fantasia that follows, the original characters return to grapple and reconcile in a frenzy of dazzling runs before retiring quietly and gracefully from the stage.<br/>
<br/>
Or so they would but for the exuberant jig that abruptly breaks out: as though a chorus line had swept in from the wings and caught the protagonists up in a sudden, festive dance. Then it's no longer hands or registers conversing, but triple voices helicoptering in triple time. If it were a real dance, neither feet nor skirts would be touching the floor.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't need to listen to the recording when you're done, but it confirms your convictions.<br/>
<br/>
It <i>is</i> Preston Spinks—you are confident—who rises from the bench, to stretch and savagely kick the Wuorinen under the piano.<span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 113122112111211111223132213323313211111
author_id: seuzz
id: DFC42QK8M
title: A Double Concerto of Doubt
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You play some more pieces after that, for the joy that Preston Spinks would naturally take in playing well after a stressful evening of self-doubt; and, for your part, to glut in having conquered and <i>become,</i> in the most intimate and special way, your new identity. A lush Brahms; a clever Mozart; a spooky Debussy. The last takes something of the concentration the Bach required—the same burrowing into the piano, like you're trying to merge your mind with its strings. But overall it's not a challenging recital you program for yourself. Just a deeply rewarding one.<br/>
<br/>
After that you make some tea and nestle on your bed with Muppet, the family's black-and-white tabby cat, cuddled in your lap as you flip through the internet on your iPad. The night ends early, and by ten-thirty you've brushed your teeth and changed into floppy pajamas, into the crotch of which you tuck a soft hand towel. Preston does not jack off, but he does have frequent night emissions, and he does his own laundry.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You sleep in a little the next morning, and it's seven o'clock before you're up. Preston is not a morning person, but he has first-thing-in-the-morning university classes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and it's easiest to keep to that schedule if he maintains something like it the rest of the week. Despite the morning wood, pajamas and night guard are alike dry, and you hang them up again in the closet after taking a shower.<br/>
<br/>
It's a fair bonus to discover that Preston, in addition to a conventionally handsome face, is well-constructed throughout. A pianist's body, not just his hands, is part of his instrument, and Preston—though not a fanatic—is rigorously prudential about keeping fit. His exercises only lightly strain him, but three patient and diligent years of running and mild weightlifting have given him a defined chest (though one hidden under a rug of curly hair), a trim stomach, strong legs, and good arms. You feel no shyness about padding out of the bathroom with only a towel around your waist. In the bedroom you change to fresh underwear and socks, then don dark workout shorts, a gray t-shirt, and a navy-blue windbreaker. You look yourself over in the bathroom mirror again as you squeeze a little more water out of your short, loose curls, and drape and hook the troublesome ones so they won't droop and flop against your forehead.<br/>
<br/>
"You had some trouble last night," your mom says when you enter the kitchen. She's in a thick bathrobe; the morning oatmeal is already bubbling on the stovetop.<br/>
<br/>
"What trouble?" you ask, startled.<br/>
<br/>
"You were procrastinating for one thing. You didn't play much, either."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm through it now," you assure her as you get down a bowl. "Last week was rough, but—" You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
She stops you to brush back a lock of your hair, and you steel yourself to keep from flinching. "How so?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, sensing quicksand all about you. "Oh, I just kind of lost my focus. Was having a hard time figuring out who I am." Inside, you wince at the veiled confession you've just blurted out.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, honey! In what way?"<br/>
<br/>
Well, you're in it now. "I dunno." You spoon some oatmeal into a bowl while avoiding her eye. "It's like I was two people, and I was having a hard time getting in phase. Like, do I take this path or do I take that path?"<br/>
<br/>
"What paths? Are you thinking about your career again?"<br/>
<br/>
Your stomach takes an express elevator down to your appendix. You cover the moment by dropping into a seat at the table.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Yes. I don't know." You shove some oatmeal into your mouth, though it blisters your tongue. "That's part of what I mean about being out of focus. I got it back, though. I'm fine."<br/>
<br/>
Still your mom frowns.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't just swallow and hide it, honey, whatever it is," she says. "I know you don't like talking about it, but we can't help you if we don't know what you're feeling. You know—" She grips your shoulder, and you stiffen unpleasantly all over. "We've put so much into your education, but it's not because <i>that's</i> what we want for you. It's because you wanted it, and we want to help you with it. If you've got doubts, or you change your mind, we'll turn around and help you with that."<br/>
<br/>
Sweat has broken out all down your back, and you have chilly flashes.<br/>
<br/>
"And if you wind up being an architect or an engineer or even an insurance salesman"—she smiles satirically—"you will always be rewarded by your musical education." It looks like she's about to blink back some tears. "You will find it such a blessing even if you don't pursue it professionally."<br/>
<br/>
The guilt is now so heavy that you're afraid you're going to throw up.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I've embarrassed you enough," she says with a laugh. "I'll let you finish your oatmeal and get on to your workout. I need to fix your dad's breakfast anyway."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well,</i> you reflect, <i>they say any landing is a good one if you can walk away from it.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After cleaning your bowl and putting it in the dishwasher, you drive up to the university and park in front of the gym. Preston takes three university classes (European Literature, Applied Music, and Introduction to Acoustics) which are credited to his high school course load. The Keyserling financial aid package that covers his books and tuition also gives him a pass to the university gym, and that's where he works out every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday morning. You deposit the windbreaker and workout bag (after withdrawing a bottle of water) in a locker, and move into the weight room.<br/>
<br/>
It's mostly empty at this early hour, and for a long time Preston was the only regular. Lately, though, a girl has started coming in, no more than ten minutes after his arrival, and never leaving before him. She is never far from his station, but she's never come over to work out right next to him, either. He has the impression that she is constantly watching him from the corner of her eye; but then, she probably has the same impression of him, for it's not hard to be interested in a blonde with a good butt, strong calves, and a pronounced rack. Preston has wondered why she never approaches him to talk; but maybe she wonders the same thing about him.<br/>
<br/>
He dreads the day that she stops showing up. But he feels the same dread of approaching her as you felt at the piano yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
As you settle onto the leg press with one eye furtively cocked on the entrance, watching for the girl, you ruefully reflect on the questions that Nathan posed you yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Lani.</i> The girl Preston met in Hawaii. She was from Arizona—not Hawaii—and she had dark skin and hair so blonde it was almost white. Her face was elfin, and her figure girlish. She had an infectious laugh, and she delighted in splashing through the surf. She arrived at the conservatory a week after Preston, to study the flute, and as soon as he mentioned he was studying piano her eyes lit up and she told him she wanted to partner with him on some flute and clavier sonatas. He leapt at the chance. They snuck into a practice room that night, but spent it all laughing and talking, and the second night she brought in beer and the third night a joint, so they didn't get anything done those nights either; but on the fourth night they noticed the security guard had changed his route, and stopped going to the practice room at all.<br/>
<br/>
Instead Preston took to staring at the ceiling after going to bed, and fantasizing about Lani sneaking into his room and into his bed, where she would slide her palms up under his pajamas and put her mouth to his, and ... And the next little bit would go hazy, like a movie fading from one scene to a much later scene, and she would be straddling him with his cock far up inside her, and both of them working hard at getting it even further in and more firmly planted.<br/>
<br/>
Even more fraught was the alternative fantasy in which he slipped into the hall and went two doors down, to where her dorm was, to slip inside and sit on the edge of her bed. She'd be awake, and she would eagerly pull him close and wriggle under him. Then her hand would go into his pajama bottoms to help free his straining cock and put it inside her. Her back would arch and his hand would go underneath it as her legs went around him.<br/>
<br/>
He had a lot of hand towels to clean over the next few days.<br/>
<br/>
But no girl with platinum-white hair ever slipped into his room, and he always quailed at the very likely consequences of his going into hers.<br/>
<br/>
After a week of this, a cellist arrived at the conservatory, and Lani, without becoming less friendly to Preston, clearly shifted her attention to him. Within two days it was a joke shared by the other students: the cellist was slipping his flute into the flautist's cello.<br/>
<br/>
Preston didn't lie to Nathan and his other friends about Lani. He merely told of those first three "dates," then dropped a discreet veil and let implication carry the rest.<br/>
<br/>
So why is Preston still a virgin? He is almost sick with desire for girls. He knows he looks good, and he grooms himself nicely. Shouldn't desire and appeal be fruitful?<br/>
<br/>
Last night you "became" Preston Spinks. But that means you are only as queasily mystified as he is.<br/>
<br/>
Only one thing he can figure: He knows how <i>technically</i> to lose his virginity. But to navigate the course from "What's your name?" to that final docking? Not a clue.<br/>
<br/>
That's not something you can help him with either.<br/>
<br/>
So when the girl with the blonde pony tail and the sensational calves walks in, at first you can only do what Preston does: concentrate on the far wall and not acknowledge her.<span class="ejnjuszMT"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332332
author_id: seuzz
title: A Troublemaker Amongst the Troublemakers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Yumi knows all about the troubles on the girls' soccer team. She's friends with the Garners, after all. Not just Eva and Jessica, who were on the team last year and who still get a constant earful about the team's troubles, but also their brother, Marc, who is dating one of the troublemakers. Yumi has mostly shut her ears to it all.<br/>
<br/>
So it's not until you start following threads on x2z that you learn just how fucked up the scene really is.<br/>
<br/>
The trouble traces back to the cheerleading squad, of all places. (It seems like all the troubles at the school trace back to the cheerleading squad, eventually.) Eva and Jessica were on the soccer team until the end of their junior year, until they got conned into trying out for two of the six vacant cheerleader positions at the end of summer. When they made it—to their own surprise and dismay—they had to quit the soccer team, and that threw everything there into chaos. With Eva and Jessica on the soccer team as allies, Anita Nuevo would have won the election for team captain in a landslide. Instead, she barely topped her rival, Tara Weston.<br/>
<br/>
Anita has said that she's forgiven Eva and Jessica for their apparent desertion and betrayal, but no one really believes that Anita—who has a reputation for nursing grudges behind a stony, do-not-fuck-with-me demeanor—means it. Certainly the Garner sisters have told Yumi (and Lin and Cindy and Jenny Ashton and who knows who else) that they no longer consider Anita a friend.<br/>
<br/>
Then, into this witch's brew of anger and recrimination, of ambitions thwarted and ambitions only realized by the skinniest of margins, stepped Hannah Westrick, a star soccer player from Eastman High who transferred schools at the beginning of the year for reasons no one has ever fully figured out. She and Anita instantly got crossways with each other—"Anita thinks Hannah wants her job," Jessica has told Yumi—and Hannah has found herself heading the anti-Anita faction. <br/>
<br/>
Or maybe she put herself there. She is a very bold and forward girl.<br/>
<br/>
Things got even more complicated when Hannah, within a few days of the start of school, started going out with Marc Garner. Well, <i>going out</i> would be a gross understatement. <i>Busting bedframes</i> would be nearer the mark, according to Jessica, who is alarmingly frank about what her brother is getting up to with Hannah. And since Marc is the captain of the boys' varsity soccer squad and should be working closely with Anita, that's another point of vexed contention between Anita and her friends and the Garner triplets.<br/>
<br/>
That's what you knew about before you checked the sewer that is the WHS stream at x2Z. And in that stream you find posts and threads and memes devoted to attacking Hannah.<br/>
<br/>
They're all anonymous, but it's not hard to guess who is behind the gleefully malicious gossip about Hannah's latest drunken escapades; the swear-to-God-it's-true posts reporting that she's been sucking the cocks of certain football players behind Marc's back; the stories about how she got chased out of EHS for trying to seduce the boyfriend of Jenny Taylor, the girls' varsity soccer captain. And so on.<br/>
<br/>
Worst of all are the memes. The nicest are the ones showing pictures of a disheveled Hannah dancing drunkenly at a nightclub. Worse are the pictures of aborted babies, and of sloppy, distended vaginal lips, that have had Hannah's name or features photoshopped into them. Creepiest, though, are the pictures of pentagrams, and black candles, and goats' faces with the gnomic warning <i>It's coming to get you</i> attached.<br/>
<br/>
Anita and her best friend, Dominique Hughes, are also targets of some of this abuse, but at nowhere near the volume or intensity. It looks like a pretty one-sided war.<br/>
<br/>
But it's not sympathy for Hannah that tempts you intervene into this fight. It's the memory of the fight you just helped Chelsea win. That was fun. And in this fight you see a chance to manipulate both sides (or all three sides, for there's also a party of stout neutrals) the way you helped Chelsea manipulate her rivals.<br/>
<br/>
And which side would you help to win? Before you decide that, you'll have to see what the ground looks like from inside the fight.<br/>
<br/>
Your boyfriend chortles softly the next morning on the ride in to school, when you tell him what you want to do. "That's my girl," he says, and he rubs your thigh. His smile reveals the wolf inside: the wolf that answers to the name "Chelsea Cooper."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Friday morning.</i> You share a second-period English class with Anita, but you decide to make Hannah your first capture. You aren't friends with her, not really, but you're well acquainted with each other through your friendship with the Garners. But it's Jessica who looks up expectantly when you approach Hannah in fourth-period German—for the two girls sit next to each other—but you only smile at her and pass on by. Hannah does a double-take as she looks up at you from her phone.<br/>
<br/>
"You busy this afternoon or tonight?" you ask. "Free to get together?"<br/>
<br/>
"For what?" she asks. Her expression is blank, and her tone blunt.<br/>
<br/>
"To talk about something." You add an "Um" when Hannah only stares back.<br/>
<br/>
You had a ready-made excuse in your back pocket when you rehearsed this approach last period during your deadly dull Chemistry class: <i>I wanna talk to you about my boyfriend,</i> you were going to say. <i>And Marc. But mostly my boyfriend. But about what your boyfriend thinks of my boyfriend. Please?</i> But you hadn't taken Jessica into account when you came up with that bit of bait, and you don't want to complicate things by saying such things in front of her.<br/>
<br/>
So you can only lift your eyebrows very high and add, "Uh, please?" as Hannah gapes dumbly at you, and as Jessica stares on with open interest.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," Hannah says at. "When do you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"How about right after school, get it over with so it doesn't get in the way of anything else? Would that work?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I guess. But—"<br/>
<br/>
"Does The Flying Saucer work for you? Four-fifteen, four-thirty? My treat."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, alright." Her brow furrows with puzzlement.<br/>
<br/>
"Great, thanks, I'll see you there." You wheel about and return to your desk. Your face burns with embarrassment, less from that very awkward approach to Hannah than from having to do it in front of Jessica. You wonder if she's going to say anything to her brother about it.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe that's why it seems that you catch Marc giving you a curious stare when you walk into sixth-period Calculus after lunch.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
When you suggested The Flying Saucer to Hannah, it wasn't because you had a particular plan in mind for getting a mask onto her. Insofar as you had a plan, you were thinking about some of the dark booths in the back, but that smacked of desperation, even to you.<br/>
<br/>
But when you get there, you find you could hardly have planned things better. The parking lot is in the back, hidden from the street by clusters of buildings on three sides, and just as you're getting out of the car, a silvery Subaru minivan pulls in and parks next to you. Hannah waves at you from behind the tinted windows.<br/>
<br/>
You waste no time yanking the passenger-side door open. "There's someone in there I don't want to run into," you blurt out before Hannah can ask you what you're doing. "Mind if we find someplace else?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," she says, "but—"<br/>
<br/>
But you're not giving her any chance to speak, not now and not earlier. You've got your bag in your lap, and you unzip and rummage inside it for the mask. "Before we head out, though," you interrupt her, "there's something I want to show you. Actually, that's the whole reason It's this."<br/>
<br/>
You give her a real good, close look at it, by shoving it into her face. The back of her head bounces off the driver-side window, and she slumps to the side. You push her back and wedge her in place.<br/>
<br/>
Only now that it's over does your heart begin to race. You wipe the palms of your hands on your jeans.<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes pass before the mask comes out of her. Where you're parked, between two cars with the snub nose of her minivan pressed against the back wall of The Flying Saucer, there's no one to spy on or bother you, so you have lots of time to study your soon-to-be identity.<br/>
<br/>
She's a big girl, but in an athletic way—the feminine equivalent of a football player, you suppose. She's tall, for a start, probably six feet, and she has the kind of wide shoulders and wide hips that would make a good football tackle. Now that you think about it, you remember Eva and Jessica talking about Hannah from the scrimmages they played against Eastman their junior year. One of the most terrifying things on the playing field, they told Yumi, was the sight of Hannah bearing down on you, like an avalanche.<br/>
<br/>
Her face is more handsome than pretty, you'd say. There is something leonine about it. Her eyes are narrow, set between a broad forehead and high cheekbones. Her nose seems flat; her smile wide and lazy. Then, too, she has a great mane of dirty-blonde hair, full of body, that when free drapes down around her shoulders, but which she usually keeps knotted in a fat ponytail that trails down her back. <br/>
<br/>
You tilt your head and study her. Yes, you decide. By blacking her nose and drawing some whiskers along her upper lip and cheek, and letting down her hair ... That by itself would make her a passable imitation of the Cowardly Lion from <i>The Wizard of Oz.</i><br/>
<br/>
When the mask comes out of her, you seal it up with the golem paint and return it to her face. "What the—?" she gasps as she opens her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Drive us out to Acheson," you tell her. "You have to do what I say. Don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Hannah, her eyes very wide, swallows and nods.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. I'll get in the back, and then we'll go."<br/>
<br/>
"Get in the back?" Hannah says faintly.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I have to change clothes. Faces too. But that'll have to wait till we're in Acheson."</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332333
author_id: rugal
title: Bad Influences on Good People
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're finishing up breakfast the next morning when your phone dings. You wonder who it could be this early and thrill a little when you see the name and the message: <i>i'm here</i>, is all that it says. However it's from Chen so you text him back that you'll be out in a minute. You finish up what little food remains and after cleaning your plate practically fly out the door and into the passenger seat of Chen's waiting Jeep. For once he doesn't need to be the one to initiate anything as you lean over the center and plant a quick smooch on him.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck was that for?" he asks as he pulls out, though his tone and look don't show any sort of annoyance.<br/>
<br/>
"Can't I be happy to see my boyfriend?" you ask in return. Your tone though does convey some annoyance albeit a playful annoyance but nothing is said after that as both of you go silent.<br/>
<br/>
In actuality it's not like you're happy to see Chen specifically; Chelsea could show up in any number of guises and you suspect you'd feel the same. She could show up as herself and you'd want to plant a kiss on her despite Yumi's own loathing of Chelsea and leaning far away from anything sapphic. Because it's not Gary Chen that's getting your heart to flutter but the person wearing his face.<br/>
<br/>
In a way it's frustrating. All the stories about Chelsea Cooper being manipulative, vindictive and self-interested? Those are certainly true. After all she's gotten you to go along in a scheme that's resulted in her gaining virtually incontestable control of the cheerleading squad. She's certainly helped herself but she's also helped you as well. Even if you wound up here because it would benefit her you <i>like</i> being Yumi. You like being attractive and popular, smart and talented.<br/>
<br/>
You like being in on a secret that only you and Chelsea share.<br/>
<br/>
You like Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
Through all of this, Chelsea has been very gracious towards you, far more than she would've needed to be. She could've browbeat you into going along with her, threatened and blackmailed you; but she never did. Sure you were going along with her whims but you were doing it of your own volition because deep down, you realize, it was fun. Deceiving Yumi's friends, being the manipulative schemer, playing a part in Kelsey's downfall and seeing her dreams crushed... it's fun and it's thrilling. That you could be on the same wavelength as Chelsea, that you could form this kind of bond with her, is something you never thought would've been a possibility before.<br/>
<br/>
"You good over there?"<br/>
<br/>
Chen's voice brings you back to reality. "Huh?" you ask as you look over at him. "Sorry I was just thinking," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"About what?"<br/>
<br/>
"How nuts this is," you state. "Not just the book but I mean that two people as opposite as us would be working so close."<br/>
<br/>
"Us as in me and you? Or Chen and Yumi?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
That gives you a second of pause. "Both I guess," you answer and that sends something firing in your brain. "It does make me wonder though if we always have to hang out together like this?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you want to hang out as Chelsea and Will?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "Not as Will, no. Not if I can help it anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"You like being Yumi that much?" Chen asks and laughs a little.<br/>
<br/>
"It's better than what I had," you admit. "But no I was thinking about Yumi and Chelsea hanging out together."<br/>
<br/>
That produces only an inquisitive noise from your partner.<br/>
<br/>
"Yumi's the one who helped pin everything on Kelsey and cleared Chelsea of any suspicion. So maybe," you stop to think for a second, "maybe Yumi starts talking to Chelsea, you know to sort of smooth things over right? Because this has been a trying ordeal for the whole squad and she wants to place peacemaker."<br/>
<br/>
"And from there Chelsea and Yumi start being seen in each other's company more; they start becoming friendly," he finishes. Chen's staring at the road but you can still see the smile that's crept onto his face. "Having you, or Yumi I guess, at my side over Kendra... yeah that'd be a lot better. A whole lot better. I'll need to work on something to take her down too though if that's what we want to do."<br/>
<br/>
"Take her down?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, because I trust Kendra as far as I can throw her," he replies and you muse that, as Chen, that would be pretty far. "If we got closer then she'd start feeling threatened which means she goes to Lin and Cindy for real. Even if she's head of the JV squad, if we get it of course, then she'll try to work them into her own little club."<br/>
<br/>
"So we set her up like we did Kelsey," you add. "She gets booted, then Yumi gets made head of the JV squad and since she's in good with you..."<br/>
<br/>
Chen lets out a particularly girlish noise, something that is very Chelsea. "I didn't know you had it in you!" he exclaims; the Yumi part of you doesn't want to admit that thought was all her. "But then won't her friends get suspicious? You said they're already talking because of our relationship. Worried that Yumi's taking in the wrong influences no doubt, becoming a bad girl."<br/>
<br/>
"Screw what they think," you say bitterly. "I'm reaching a point where I don't care about that. If they want to think I'm some kind of bad girl then let them think that. The only girl whose opinion Yumi Saito really, truly cares about is Jenny Ashton's."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that who you want as a second then?" asks Chen with amusement. "She tried out for the squad before didn't she? If you can convince her to try out again she'll have a spot lined up for her. Then you won't have to worry about what she thinks."<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny as a second mask?" you ask yourself more than your partner. "That's something I'd definitely have to consider. That might reflect good on you too wouldn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"How do you figure?"<br/>
<br/>
"It'd make you look magnanimous," you explain. "Jenny's not necessarily top of the ladder socially but she's not someone wholly uncool like Michelle either. It might look good to have someone like her on the squad for that reason."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Nothing is said for a little while once more. Eventually Chen pulls into the parking lot and it's not until he finds a space and kills the engine that he speaks again. "Putting it like you did," he starts, "there's another benefit I can think of to putting Jenny on the squad too; if she's your second of course. It'd probably throw off Cindy and Lin."<br/>
<br/>
"That's true," you say. "Likely they'd think along what I reasoned and likely think it's bullshit. But if Jenny's there then they might also think that's something they can take advantage of to keep me in line by trying to bring her into their orbit, probably thinking I'd go with her."<br/>
<br/>
"But it would all be pointless of course, we'd just be stringing them along," he grins. "I didn't know Yumi had this in her."<br/>
<br/>
You grab his hands but it's he who pulls you in close. You let your head nestle against his chest. "What can I say?" you coo, "You bring out sides of me I didn't even know I had. Yumi never imagined that she'd care so much for <i>protecting</i> Chelsea's position. That does bring someone else to mind too."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Victoria Rodriguez."<br/>
<br/>
"For the squad?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You simply shrug. "I mean in general. If you're thinking of that second tier of girls below the cheerleaders she's definitely at the top," you explain. "She's got a lot of friends, a star athlete boyfriend, a lot of guys want her."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I've ever seen her do so much as a tumble."<br/>
<br/>
"She doesn't have to be part of the squad," you tell him. "I'm just saying if I was running her then that cuts off another threat to you socially. But saying all that though I don't think I'd be her or Jenny more than when I need to be." You look up at him and give him a contented smile. "I'm fine right where I am."<br/>
<br/>
"You're really not in any hurry to go back to Prescott's life are you?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't say that you are. What does being Will offer you over being Yumi? You didn't have any many friends and if you had Jenny then that fixes that problem because you'd be able to see them again with little issue. There's your family... and that does cause you to pause. Whether as Yumi or Jenny or Victoria you'd really not have a way to see them again, especially not your brother since he attends Schuyler. As soon as you think that a lightbulb goes off in your head.<br/>
<br/>
"Chiho," you say quietly. "Yumi's got a sister, Chiho, who goes to Schuyler. I could use a mask on her."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't see what benefit that provides you or me," he says plainly.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have any way to see my family," you explain. "I could just be me again but... I don't <i>want</i> to; I want to be Yumi. But I've got a brother who goes to Schuyler too. I want to help you out so I'm fine with Jenny or Victoria but..."<br/>
<br/>
"I get you," Chen says as he leans down to kiss you on the forehead. "I'd prefer it if you used your two masks on Jenny and Victoria but if you want a way to stay in touch with your family without having to go back to being yourself then I guess I don't see the issue."</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211121111122313221332334
author_id: rugal
title: Who You Know
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Yes, it's surprising indeed because the conclusion you come to is ... no conclusion at all! Getting up from the desk where the laptop sits you groan in frustration and flop face-first onto the bed. After laying there for a minute you reach for the phone that you'd earlier tossed up near the pillow, flip yourself over and push yourself into a sitting position. Another frustrated noise exits as you look at the phone and the messages you'd missed while it was out of your reach; nothing more than the usual stuff from the usual people so you give some of Yumi's usual responses.<br/>
<br/>
That takes a bit longer than anticipated though by this point you've long gotten the hang of it. Yumi knows a lot of people after all so you've gotten a good feel for how long this stuff will take... and that frustrates you even more. Why are you having such a tough time finding anyone? Yumi's got a lot of friends so there's a lot of people to choose from so why is it so difficult? You squint at the phone as if you're harshly judging it, then in resignation you go to the contacts to see if someone, anyone stands out to you. Cindy and Eva and Jessica and Jenny? No not them. Yumi's cross-town cousins? Promising on their own but you don't think Chelsea would go for it.<br/>
<br/>
So many people; too many people. Is that it? Could that be the problem? Yumi knows so many people that maybe it's just making it hard to narrow it down. Maybe it's having some kind of psychological effect and there's a part of Yumi's mind that, deep down, doesn't want one of her friends to be used in the service of Chelsea and it's so strong that it's having an effect on you. So maybe that's the angle you need to approach it from. It's not about who Yumi knows but who <i>doesn't</i> she know?<br/>
<br/>
You push yourself off of the bed just enough to snatch the laptop off of the desk and moving to a sitting position at the head of the bed you flip it open. You pull up a browser and open as many tabs as you feel you'll need pull up Yumi's various SNS profiles. You try to think of names that you might know of but none that you don't actively know. Facebook and Twitter and x2z and whatever else you feel you need to check; you start putting in names that ring a bell and the results are fast. There's people that yourself and Yumi have seen around or heard about, some that you or her might even share classes with, but none that you've ever really hung out with.<br/>
<br/>
Some of them are friends Jenny's mentioned but that Yumi doesn't really associate with. Others are complete strangers beyond a name and a face. Things start coalescing and ideas start swirling around in your head. This person leads to that person leads to this other person, the way this and that student connect or in some cases don't connect at all.<br/>
<br/>
You close the laptop and put it back on the desk then rummage through Yumi's backpack and pull out a notepad and a pen and begin writing down some of the more intriguing groups and names. You spend the next fifteen or twenty minutes studying it and approving or disapproving of certain people and by the end you've got things narrowed down into two broad groups. They're groups that seem like they would be fun to infiltrate and who you can sell on Chelsea as helping to consolidate her power. Chelsea's reach extends far but there are some places that even it can't quite get to after all.<br/>
<br/>
That's where you come in however. Much as you might have once been loathe to admit it after all the horror stories you've heard you have to admit that there's something fun and exciting about helping Chelsea. There's a thrill in knowing that you're bound together by a secret that only the two of you know. You further have to admit that her plan to consolidate her hold on the squad was genius as it was devious and you're thankful that you are now firmly on her good side.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Deep down you sense a stirring in the Yumi-mind that shares space with your own. Yumi hates Chelsea of course. She's made things difficult for her and made them difficult for her friends. The thought of working with Chelsea should disgust her... so why doesn't it? <i>Why is there a part of me,</i> that voice wonders in a mix of horror and shame, <i>that's thinking this is right? That I had it all wrong and that I should've been working with her from the start?</i><br/>
<br/>
That Yumi voice keeps running. Maybe things would've been different if she'd sided with Chelsea at the beginning. Maybe things could've been better for her and for Jenny too. Maybe she could've stopped Chelsea from being such a bitch. Why <i>does</i> she insist on being friends with stick-in-the-muds like the Garners? Is Cindy all that different from Chelsea? Is Lin worse? She's been a huge bitch about Gary after all; as her friend shouldn't Lin have been happy for Yumi? Maybe even proud that she managed to tame the beast that is Gary Chen?<br/>
<br/>
Thinking of it like that then it can't really see what's all that objectionable about helping Chelsea then. So long as she agrees to not make life difficult for Jenny then what's the issue? Beyond that there's an urge from the Yumi voice: it'd like to get a little revenge on Lin and knock her down a peg for her shitty attitude.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
However you don't know how much of that is actually Yumi and how much is your own thoughts mixing with her own. So you push it to the side. The important issue is deciding which of these two groups would be better to take. Which would Chelsea appreciate more?<br/>
<br/>
In column A is the Bohemians, a catch all term for the group of students that constitute practically an entirely parallel student body with their own hierarchies, cliques and social structures. Some times they mingle with the other above ground groups but often times they're left largely to their own devices and united only by a shared artistic streak and a love of partying down at the Warehouse. Emily Sparks, Mia DeWitt, Brianna Gould, Lori Sherman; these are a few of the more prominent names among that crowd though they're far from the only ones.<br/>
<br/>
Even among the Bohemians there's a split. The musician types like Jelena Petrovic, artists like Fatima Zahedi and many more.<br/>
<br/>
In column B rests the miscellaneous athletic teams. At Westside the big teams are the boy's basketball team, the baseball team and of course the cheerleaders. None of those are any sort of problem for Chelsea what with the cheerleading squad in her hands, the basketball team under the control of Gordon who is in turn under Chelsea's control and one of the leaders of the baseball team being Gordon's buddy Jason Lynch.<br/>
<br/>
But there are still a lot of other teams that that exist out in the margins. That's not to say they're unpopular just that they're an obvious rung below the big three. The girls' basketball team, volleyball, swimming, track, the girls' soccer team (the boys' is no issue with Chen). Chelsea would love to get foothold into any of those teams and effectively bringing names like Catherine Muskov or Hannah Westrick under her control.<br/>
<br/>
You figure that you'll sleep on it, talk to Chelsea in the morning and the two of you can figure out what to do from there.  So you get ready for bed and try to drift off to sleep but a thought keeps you up. It's the thought from earlier from Yumi's mind, the one about wanting to get back at Lin for her attitude and knock her down a bit. You yourself couldn't care less about what Lin thinks but there's someone -- or someones -- that you keep having the same thoughts about. You thought all this business with Chelsea would put it behind you but instead you find it dragged to the front of your mind.<br/>
<br/>
You might not want to get back at Lin but you'd love to get back at that jackass Mansfield... and at Lisa. But you have no desire to become Mansfield just so you can date Lisa because how is that really getting back at him? No getting back at him means stealing Lisa from him like he stole her from you. At the same time you don't want to become another guy and date Lisa because where's the fun in that? She doesn't receive any blowback or whispers from breaking up with Mansfield to date another guy.<br/>
<br/>
No, not another guy. But if rumors started spreading that she's batting for the other team... and think of the blow to Mansfield's reputation: Geoff Mansfield is such an awful boyfriend that he'll cause a girl to swear off of men for good. Yes if you could get a mask onto Lisa and get a Lisa mask onto yourself then you could get your revenge on both Mansfield and Lisa. A little bit of hot and heavy with a girl of your choice courtesy of that second mask would be more than enough and through Yumi you could get it to the right people.<br/>
<br/>
Of course getting into Lisa also gets you into the AP group. Chelsea would certainly like that.</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121113
author_id: seuzz
title: The Someone Else
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Christ, it's about time you got here," Chelsea mutters as she admits you into the foyer of her house.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you I'd be late," you retort. "I had to—" You break off as Chelsea's mother looks in from another room. <br/>
<br/>
"All I know is I ran out of small talk nearly an hour ago and—" Chelsea breaks off and follows your gaze to look over her shoulder. "Thanks, Mom!" she calls to her. "Uh, this is Will. From yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nice to see you again, Will." Mrs. Cooper beams at you. "How are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine. Thanks." Chelsea's mother looks like a somewhat aged version of her daughter. Short, very fit, with blonde hair and a slightly insane cast about the eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"So, I know you can't stay long," Chelsea says in a very loud voice as she seizes your wrist and drags you toward the stairs. "Thanks for bringing that homework assignment over."<br/>
<br/>
"And what <i>are</i> your scholarly aptitudes, Will?" Mrs. Cooper asks as you and Chelsea brush past her.<br/>
<br/>
"Math and English," Chelsea hollers back as she drags you, nearly tripping, up the stairs. "He's going to check our grammar and arithmetic."<br/>
<br/>
"Be sure to check her essays for split infinitives!" Mrs. Cooper calls at you from the foot of the stairs. "Chelsea's always been good at doing splits!"<br/>
<br/>
"God!" Chelsea hisses as she drags you around the corner. "I swear it's like she doesn't trust me to have a guy who isn't Gordon over. You have all the stuff?" She stops short in the middle of the hall, and you bang into her.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course I do. I spent all afternoon and evening making it up." In truth, you spent all afternoon and evening making <i>one</i> of the masks. You found the other—which <i>God damn him</i> contained a copy of your own face and mind—hidden in Caleb's room when you snuck into his empty house after school.<br/>
<br/>
"Then come on. I want to get this done with."<br/>
<br/>
"No, hang on," you tell her. "First, I want you to tell me what you're up to."<br/>
<br/>
"Up too?" Chelsea frowns under raised brows.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes." You push open a half-closed door, disclosing a guest bathroom. You clutch at Chelsea, and drag her into it.<br/>
<br/>
"That girl waiting in there," you say, pointing through the closed bathroom door in the general direction Chelsea's bedroom. "That's not Yumi and that's not Cindy. You said you wanted me to be one of <i>them."</i><br/>
<br/>
"I know what I said, Will!" Chelsea's eyes flash. "But if you—"<br/>
<br/>
"So why are you okay with me being <i>her</i> instead." Again, you jab your finger at the door.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's frown deepens. "I don't understand what you're upset about, Will," she says. "I said you could be Yumi or Cindy because that would help you figure out where you and ... Lisa ... went wrong. But if you think that—"<br/>
<br/>
"Cut the shit, Chelsea. You want me to be Yumi or Cindy because it will help you out with the cheerleader squad. They both hate you, I hang around with Yumi and Lin enough to know what they say about you." You ignore her quick gasp of outrage. "So why didn't you argue when I came out and said I'd be—" You jerk your chin at the door again.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea glowers at you, then shuts her eyes and shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," she says. "You're right. I figured we could help each other. You could help me by, mm—" She shrugs again, stiffly. "Being Yumi or Cindy, since, like you say—" Her mouth twists up like she's bitten into something sour. "And you could help yourself because they could tell you what you want to know about Lisa. But if you'd really rather be—"<br/>
<br/>
"So why are <i>you</i> okay with her?" you demand. "What's in it for you?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea cocks her head and studies you. Then she shrugs again. <br/>
<br/>
"Because I figure that if I'm nice to <i>you,</i> then <i>you</i> can make <i>her</i> be nice to me. You can help me out still, you know. I mean, if she says <i>this</i> about me, or she says <i>that</i> about, Cindy or Yumi or Lin—" Her jaw tightens. "People might finally start getting the right idea about us."<br/>
<br/>
Yes, in a flash you can see that now, and you wonder that you didn't see it before. Chelsea wants allies, and will take them anywhere she can get them.<br/>
<br/>
"But what about you, Will?" she says. "What are <i>you</i> going to get out of it?"<br/>
<br/>
Your brain freezes up. You honestly have no answer to that. You only blurted out her name because you didn't want to say "Yumi" or "Cindy", and because you'd been watching her in the library before school and so had her name on your mind.<br/>
<br/>
But is that the only reason you said her name? Coincidence? Is there a deeper reason why you are willing to let Chelsea turn you into—<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever," Chelsea says. "Come on, let's do this before she gets away." She takes you by the wrist and pulls you back into the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But she hasn't gotten away. She's preoccupied with her cell phone when Chelsea sweeps into the bedroom, and quickly puts it away with a guilty expression.<br/>
<br/>
<i>So that's who I'm going to be,</i> it comes to you in a flash. <i>When I walk out Chelsea's front door, I'm going to be—</i></span></div></div>


path: 11312211211131
author_id: seuzz
title: Black Narcissus
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Danielle Davis's brow crinkles with surprise and puzzlement as she looks up at you. "Oh. Hey, Will," she says. "You're, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
You've no idea—well, not yet—what she was going to say, for before she can get any further you smash the mask into her face. She falls backward onto Chelsea's bed, and bounces. Her phone flies away.<br/>
<br/>
"Yow," Chelsea says behind you. "And I thought Gordon was rough with Gary!" The door clicks shut.<br/>
<br/>
You're trembling all over, and now that the deed is done you let go with a good hard shiver-and-shudder. <br/>
<br/>
For you've just assaulted one of your classmates. And you're about to do worse.<br/>
<br/>
You're about to steal her body and her identity.<br/>
<br/>
"We have to get her out of her clothes," you mutter, remembering the trouble you had when you put Gordon's mask onto Gary. "Um ... " You feel your eyes bulging as you study Danielle.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?" Chelsea says. You glance back; her eyes are twinkling with amusement under arched brows. You blush, much to your chagrin.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, um, do you want to take care of that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why? Can't you do it yourself?" That twinkle brightens.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I <i>could,"</i> you stammer. "But I— I thought— Don't you want to ... "<br/>
<br/>
"Why would I want to see Danielle naked?" A slow grin spreads across Chelsea's face.<br/>
<br/>
You'd swallow, but a blockage, roughly the size and shape of a watermelon, seems to have closed up your throat. "You mean," you croak, "you'd be okay with me, uh ..." You fumble your hands at Danielle.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it doesn't have anything to do with <i>me,</i> not especially," Chelsea airily declares. "You're the one who's going to be wearing her clothes. Wearing more of her than that, even." She goes up on tiptoes and whispers loudly in your ear. "It's going to be <i>her naked body under those clothes</i> after you're dressed up again."<br/>
<br/>
You flinch backward a step, but Chelsea laughs. "Okay, if you're going to be so shy about it, Will, I guess I could—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's okay." You block her as she reaches for Danielle. "Er, you're right. I should, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, now you can't wait, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just giving you a hard time. God, I think I'm as nervous as you." She covers her nose and mouth with her hands and breathes deeply. "Well, you better get on with it. I'll go downstairs, keep my mom occupied so we don't have anyone coming up and knocking while you're—" She giggles. "Getting into your new wardrobe."<br/>
<br/>
It's like a sheet of flame has covered your face, and is singeing your eyebrows and scalp.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Even after Chelsea has gone, it takes you almost a full minute before you can work up your courage to touch Danielle. You start at her feet.<br/>
<br/>
She's wearing black high-top Converses that have silver stickers and highlights glued onto them. You draw off these and her socks, then turn her onto her front so you can draw off the red-and-black checkered flannel shirt that she has draped over a purple t-shirt. The latter you pull off over her head, exposing her back and the clasps of her bra. After hesitating, you unhook then, then turn her over. The cups remain wedged onto her breasts, though, and your eyes will insist on glancing up to check them out even as you fumble at the front of her jeans. The latter are a tight-fit, and you have to fight to get them down around her hips and off her legs. Her panties, like her bra, you leave in place.<br/>
<br/>
Then you stand back to admire the uncovered form of your body-to-be with a swelling appreciation.<br/>
<br/>
Danielle is African-American, or at least partly so. Her skin tone is very light, lighter even than Kendra Saunders's, so that except for the shape of her eyes and chin and lips she could probably pass for being Hispanic. Her dark hair is also very straight, possibly because it's been treated, possibly because her genes incline that way. It is very thick and she wears it long, so that the tips fall almost to the bottoms of her breasts.<br/>
<br/>
She is slim and shapely, with a stomach that curves in from her chest before curving back out again in the hips. She isn't athletically toned, though, and her tummy is a little flabby, but she is probably in better shape than ninety percent of the girls who aren't on a sports team or who do gymnastics.<br/>
<br/>
The thought makes you wonder: Does Danielle do gymnastics?<br/>
<br/>
You don't know that much about Danielle, actually, except that she's in the orchestra or the marching band or something musical, and that she hangs out with a much better class of student than you do. (Admittedly, that's not saying much.) You shared several classes with her your freshman, sophomore and junior years (though none this semester) and you've talked to her enough that you and she know each other's names. She is friendly with Lisa—<br/>
<br/>
You give a little start. Was that the reason, subconsciously, that you gave Chelsea Danielle's name? Because she would be as good, or even better than Yumi or Cindy, at sussing out Lisa's reasons for breaking up with you?<br/>
<br/>
Well, even if it wasn't, it would be a bonus.<br/>
<br/>
So Danielle is a handsome girl. Even if she's not a cheerleader, like Cindy Vredenburg, or an academic star, like Kelsey Blankenship, or a social extrovert, like Catherine Muskov, she would be a step up from "Will Prescott" as an identity.<br/>
<br/>
You perch on the edge of the bed, and gingerly stroke her calf until the mask reappears on her face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are cold all over when you wake, and there's a stiffness in your neck and right shoulder. You frown and sit up. Hair falls about your shoulders, tickling you, and you gasp when you look down to find that you're naked.<br/>
<br/>
<i>God, what the hell?</i> You clasp your arms over your breasts and scramble up onto your knees. Still covering yourself, you get onto your feet and lean against a vanity. You're in a strange bathroom—pink like Pepto-Bismol—and were passed out on the floor with only a small, fuzzy bathmat between your bare skin and the cold tile. No wonder you're freezing!<br/>
<br/>
You do a little double-take at your reflection in the mirror—<br/>
<br/>
—and follow it with a triple- and then a quadruple-take as your eyes widen and your mouth forms a perfect "o". It's your face beneath the disordered tangle of hair that is draped around your shoulders. And yet, from somewhere in the back of your mind, there comes battering a vague but persistent thought that <i>no, it isn't actually yours.</i><br/>
<br/>
The bathroom door is closed, but from the other side you hear the squeak of bedsprings. <i>Chelsea,</i> you think, to your own puzzlement.<br/>
<br/>
Then, <i>Chelsea's bedroom, which makes this Chelsea's bathroom, because she asked me out here to talk about Cindy and her friends, and then Will Prescott came in and—</i><br/>
<br/>
You catch the edge of the vanity and let your head sink as your legs almost buckle.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm not Danielle Davis. I'm Will Prescott. I'm Will Prescott, but I'm wearing—</i><br/>
<br/>
You raise your head and study your face with staring eyes.<br/>
<br/>
They're alive. Your face and your eyes are alive. They are Danielle's face and eyes, but they're alive and they answer to your will. So does your hand when you gingerly put your fingertips to your cheek. The sensation is that of skin—not of latex or leather—and your cheek tingles and prickles as you rub at it. You arch your eyebrows and suck on your lower lip, and you drop your other hand to touch and rub and tweak the nipple of your right breast. It hardens, and stings a little.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh. My. God.</i><br/>
<br/>
You clutch the vanity with both hands and lean in to grin at your reflection as you let your gaze wander over its features, from the scalp to the slightly pug nose to the full lips that peel back so easily to disclose a wide, very white smile.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm Danielle Davis!</i><br/>
<br/>
Another squeak of bedsprings reminds you that there's someone waiting outside for you.<br/>
<br/>
Quickly, without gloating over it, you dress. Panties. Bra. The wine-colored t-shirt and the flannel shirt draped over it. The jeans, that hug your legs and hips tightly, the better to show off your curves. Socks. Sneakers.<br/>
<br/>
The hair clasp is by the sink, where you left it when you carried the mask and Danielle's clothes into the bathroom preparatory to making the change. With Chelsea's brush you force your hair back over the tops and sides of your head, then seize it in a great fistful and close the clasp around it at the base of your skull. That done, you fluff out the ends, so that two great bolts of it cascade down your chest to cover your breasts while a third tumbles down your back. You turn this way and that, admiring the effect—and admiring your wide, friendly smile—then put out the light and open the door.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea looks up from the front of her bed, where she is hunching. "Hey," you say, and the sound of Danielle's voice issuing from your throat takes you a little by surprise. "So I guess I'm done here, are we d—" The words catch in your throat. "Is that my phone?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea tightens her grip on it. "It's Danielle's phone," she snaps back. "I'm just checking for— Watch it!"<br/>
<br/>
She recoils as you snatch at the phone, and after a short, hard struggle you yank it away from her. "I don't know what you're being grabby about," she snarls. "It's not <i>yours,</i> Will."<br/>
<br/>
"It goes with <i>this,</i>" you retort, and with the sweep of one hand take in your new body from the neck down. "What were doing with it, anyway?" You squint at the screen, which is displaying a lot of old texts.<br/>
<br/>
"Just checking things out, like I was gonna say. See how she can be useful to us."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, how about you let <i>me</i> figure that out. I know her better than you. Better than you can get just by reading her texts."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," Chelsea says. She scoots over and pats the bed. "I got nothing better to do anyway than talk."</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111312
author_id: seuzz
title: Roles and Role-Players
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Chelsea wants you to stay and scheme, but you feel like you've had enough of her for the day. "So maybe you've got nothing else to do," you tell her, "but I do."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes glint. "Like?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like catching up with my friends."<br/>
<br/>
<i>My friends.</i> A prickle, like a rash, sweeps over you. You have a whole new set of friends now! Friends who think that you're Danielle Davis!<br/>
<br/>
"We can catch up with them together!" Chelsea protests. "I need to know everything that you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow," you tell her. "Well, maybe. Right after school," you correct yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Is something going on tomorrow night?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's a recital up at the college."<br/>
<br/>
"Oo, a recital!" Chelsea purses her lips, as though she finds the idea of a "recital" scandalously amusing.<br/>
<br/>
"Which means I'll have to get my homework done early. So ... Thursday? It'll be fine," you snap when she groans. "It'll give me a chance to come up with some ideas for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh-huh." Chelsea cocks her head. "Are you going to be able to fool this girl's family?" she asks. "Your character seems off. I'm not used to having Danielle talk to me this way."<br/>
<br/>
You catch yourself before you can say something really regrettable. "I'll be okay," you assure her, and point to your temple. "I've got everything I need up here."<br/>
<br/>
"Including how to play the piccolo?"<br/>
<br/>
"Piccolo? Danielle plays the bassoon!"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's dimples spring out. "Just testing you, Will." She brushes the front of your shirt. "See you tomorrow in English?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." You reach past her to grab your—yes, it's <i>your</i>—purse.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't have English together, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes we do."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea titters. "Just testing you again."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Danielle lives halfway across town, and not so far from where you live, actually. Both her parents are black (though her mother is as light-skinned as she), living a solidly middle-class lifestyle in a nice house in a pleasant neighborhood. Danielle is no stranger to the occasional taunt or racial slur, but for a middle-class, academically advanced girl like her, that sort of thing is less a real problem than just an unwelcome spice sprinkled lightly on a safely bland existence. In fact, as far as race goes, Danielle's only problem is with—<br/>
<br/>
You shy away from thinking about Danielle's love life. Or, more particularly, the guys who think they should feature in it.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, as you crawl across the city, you probe at Danielle's memories of you and Lisa. You don't find much. You can remember running into Danielle a few times up at the mall while in Lisa's company, and once having gone to see a movie as part of a group that included both girls. But the only memory you have is from your own point of view. When you try to review the same events from Danielle's, you only get a hazy impression of yourself hanging out on the edge of the group. (Of the movie, you've a much more vivid impression of Danielle's ardor as she tried to catch and hold the attention of Joel Wharton.) Nor does it seem like the subject of you and Lisa came up much when Danielle was around. Wrack your brain as you try, you can't remember her talking about you and Lisa, while you were together or after your break up. <br/>
<br/>
Is there actually something wrong with your memories? <i>Will Prescott. What do you know of Will Pr—?</i><br/>
<br/>
Again, you flinch. (Luckily, you're stopped at a light, or you might have flown over into the next lane.) You remember now your sophomore year, when you and Danielle were partnered in English on a project on the <i>Moby Dick</i>. Your own memory is of doing the work. Danielle's memory is of <i>her</i> doing all the work while her unshaved partner slouched in a chair, chewing gum and poring over his cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
So, yeah, it looks like you've got her memories. And as you pull into the driveway of your new house, you are forced to conclude with a sigh that Danielle simply wasn't that interested in what happened to you and Lisa, and that Lisa didn't share anything with her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're up early the next morning after a sleepless night. Danielle is not a light sleeper, but you kept waking from dreams in which you felt yourself being transformed into various girls you know. It was always the same: You felt yourself being enclosed inside a kind of chrysalis made of a stiff membrane, like plastic; then a wormy feeling erupted all over your body, as though your skin was full of snakes wriggling beneath your epidermis; then you burst out through the shell to rise, naked and chilly, to clasp your hands to pert breasts or to sloping hips. You would hold yourself and realize (in that way that you "realize" strange but true things in dreams) that you have turned into ... Catherine Muskov. Or Kelsey Blankenship. Or Jenny Ashton.<br/>
<br/>
You woke from each of these dreams to find yourself in a strange bed, and the shivery realization that you have actually turned into a girl—Danielle Davis. You laid back down and clapped a hand over a pert breast and stared at the dark ceiling, but quickly fell asleep again.<br/>
<br/>
The fourth or maybe the seventh time that you woke (thinking briefly that you were now Kennedy Palmer) you looked at the clock and saw that it was 6:25. So you clambered out of bed and hit the shower. A glance out the window showed that it was going to be another rainy day, so you dressed down in Levis, sneakers, and a thin beige sweatshirt. Most of the rest of the morning was taken up with combing out and pulling back your hair, and applying just enough makeup to cover up your pores and to give a little definition to your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You have to admire the girl who glints back at you from the mirror when you're done. It's not a face—let alone a complexion—that you ever imagined having, but you like it now that it's yours. Danielle has large lips under a small snub nose, and they are something she is conscious of, but they retreat when she smiles to show large, almost blindingly white teeth—and her mouth settles almost naturally into a faint, teeth-revealing smile when she relaxes. You twinkle at yourself shyly as you study the planes of your face, and the curves of your breasts and hips, and the way your hair cascades around your shoulders. There is no reason (you surprise yourself by musing) that Danielle should not have a boyfriend; and (to your even greater surprise) you wonder what it would have been like to have her rather than Lisa as a girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
Downstairs you have breakfast (oatmeal, an egg, and a slice of bacon) with your parents, both of whom are dressed for work. (Both work for Mohegan Gas and Electric, he as a managing engineer and she in the human resources department.) You chat idly with them—they are engrossed in their copy of The Wall Street Journal—and remind them that you'll be going up to the college this evening to attend a music recital.<br/>
<br/>
Then, because the second car has to in to the repair shop today for some maintenance work, you go out to stand under a small, fold-out umbrella, to wait for the school bus.<br/>
<br/>
You're concentrating on your cell phone—there's a reminder there from Kennedy, who is in the school orchestra with you, about the recital—when a car passes, then turns around and comes back to stop in front of you. "Want a ride, Danielle?" Christian Knouse asks from behind the wheel. "Nasty weather." He cocks an eyebrow over his sharp glance.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Put the die down and back slowly away!" Christian yells into the rearview mirror. "Role-play it, man!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to—! Danielle!" Howie Baylor protests from the back seat.<br/>
<br/>
"What do I have to do with it?" you retort.<br/>
<br/>
What indeed?<br/>
<br/>
You're still a mile from school, for Christian (as he warned you after you were in the car) had to detour to pick up Howie. (<i>It's like I'm role-playing a school bus,</i> he grumbled good-naturedly.) And though there's no table top or rule book or any other RPG detritus in the car, Christian and Howie had instantly launched into a campaign, yelling at each other from front seat to back seat and back again. It was a two-person side-quest they had been forced to start during their last game session, and which they had promised the others in their group they would conclude in time for this afternoon's scheduled session.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to hear me try to get it on with Christian!" Howie hollers. "Do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not getting it on with <i>me!"</i> Christian retorts. "You're trying to get it on with my half-orc."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if Pifflewog wasn't so— If he didn't want to—" Howie looks like he's about to burst.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?" Christian asks. When Howie doesn't answer, he snickers. "Come on, man, how many orc warrior princesses does Pifflewog get to meet? You're probably the first in fifty years."<br/>
<br/>
"Not me." Howie glowers. "Grishkella."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Role-play!"<br/>
<br/>
You know you should stay out of it, but you can't help asking, "So why does, uh, Grishkella have to ... seduce ... Pifflwog?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because Christian wants him to."<br/>
<br/>
"And Pifflewog doesn't want to be seduced?"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly!" Howie slaps the car seat. "Thank you, Danielle. Pifflewog shouldn't want to! It's why I— Uh. It's why <i>Darrell</i> cast that spell of chastity on him. So he wouldn't be horny around her!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just because he's not horny doesn't mean he doesn't want to get it on," Christian retorts. "It just means you're going to have to be <i>very, very persuasive</i> if you're going to satisfy him. Like I told you, Pifflewog's not unlocking those shackles until Grishkella surrenders her—" <br/>
<br/>
He leans into the rear-view mirror and waggles his eyebrows. "You are well and justly punished, asshole, for that little scheme you and Darrell's wizard cooked up to cock-block him."<br/>
<br/>
"Just let me roll a die," Howie grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Role play! I'll tell you if you make it with him."</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121113121
author_id: seuzz
title: Learning Like Danielle
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You jump to Howie's rescue by asking them to explain this campaign, this side-quest, and why he's playing a female character. (You have a professional interest in the latter question, you suppose.)<br/>
<br/>
"To mix it up a little," Howie says, sounding defensive. "It doesn't mean anything."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't think it did," you assure him.<br/>
<br/>
"Unh!" Christian grunts. "You shouldn't have told him that, Danielle. It's called 'protesting too much.' Now he <i>does</i> think you think it means something."<br/>
<br/>
"No I <i>don't!"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Howie," Christian says into the rearview mirror. "Danielle says she's innocent, and guilty people <i>always</i> protest their innocence."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not guilty!" you protest.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say you were. I'm just reminding Howie that that's <i>exactly</i> what you'd say if you thought there was, you know, something iffy about him—"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut the fuck up, man," Howie fumes. He has turned very red.<br/>
<br/>
"My work here is done," Christian replies, and falls into a serene silence.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have second-period AP Calculus with these two clowns, so take the line of least resistance and follow them into the school library—it's so you can go over your math homework with them, you tell yourself. You're not there long before your phone tweets—or, more accurately, plays the first few measures of the Vivaldi Concerto in A minor for bassoon and orchestra, RV498—and you find a text from Catherine Muskov: <i>something wrong with us?</i> You glance back to see her at another table with half a dozen mutual friends spread out around her. She smiles lazily at you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>God, she's gorgeous,</i> as even Danielle recognizes with some little envy. Long, brown hair; an easy smile; the toned hips and legs of a track girl, but with soft, voluptuous curves that remind you of Lisa. You wave back to her and hold up your math book as an explanation. She nods.<br/>
<br/>
"You can go sit with them if you want," Howie says in a small voice. He is hunched over his homework, watching you from the corner of his eye.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd rather get this stuff right," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll go sit with them," Christian announces. He hops to his feet and struts over to Catherine's table, like a bantam rooster out for a stroll. You catch Howie wincing a little. "What?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing," he says, and bends back over the homework. Then he mutters, "Christian'll do things even when he knows it'll blow up in his face."<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing's going to blow up in his face. You wanna go sit with them?" You pull your stuff together. "We can work over there."<br/>
<br/>
Howie turns red again, and says, "We should stay over here, get more work done. Unless," he suddenly adds with a stammer, "you really want to go over there with them."<br/>
<br/>
You study Howie. There's nothing obviously wrong with him physically. Well, there's something a little froggy about his eyes—they're a trifle protuberant—and his smile is a little goofy. His belly hangs out over the top of his jeans, and he dresses in plaid shirts. So it's a little hard to pin down what it is about him, exactly, that screams <i>nerd.</i><br/>
<br/>
And yeah, he would look a little out of place at Catherine's table, with the track and tennis people. You glance back over at that table. Christian is leaning back in a chair, his hands twined behind his head, in a very exaggerated pose of "cool." In his white sweatshirt and his gold-framed glasses (which match his wispy blonde hair) he wouldn't seem immediately out of place with that group. But he's skinny, and there's a nervy intelligence behind his dark, darting eyes, and satire in his grin.<br/>
<br/>
"You know what he's doing over there," you tell Howie in a low voice. "He's role-playing." The thought startles you, so it must be one of Danielle's.<br/>
<br/>
Howie frowns. "Roleplaying what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Roleplaying like he belongs. You could role-play like that, too."<br/>
<br/>
Howie draws back. "Uh uh," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure you could. Are you telling me you can roleplay as an orc princess but you can't roleplay as someone who sits with Catherine and Cody and those guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's different," Howie says, blushing hard. "When I roleplay, it's part of a game."<br/>
<br/>
"You could make <i>that</i> a game over there. Like Christian is."<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure, but you think Howie is starting to shake. "I couldn't," he says, and his mouth curls up in a terrified smile.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you are tempted to force him over to Catherine's table, but you relent with a shrug. "Then let's finish this stuff," you tell him as you spread your math back out, "before Christian comes back and bothers us."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You leave Howie and Christian behind for first period, but see them again in second period calculus, and note with a little discomfort that Howie seemed to be watching for you. He is sitting with Christian and Hugh Flake, but you take Danielle's usual seat on the other side of the room, with her orchestra friends—David Scofeld, Tyler Burns, and Sarah Bhatnagar—and the volleyball players Whitney Rosenthal and Reagan Hackett. You're also sitting behind a new girl to the school, Sydney McGlynn, who you haven't talked to much. Now, after studying the back of her head a moment, you poke her in the shoulder. "Did I hear you were on the cheerleader squad at your old school?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She nods. "Yeah, why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking of something else, and it reminded that I heard something about that."<br/>
<br/>
"There's a documentary about her up on YouTube," Reagan says. She smiles so widely it's like the top of her head is about to fall off.<br/>
<br/>
"Not on me," Sydney protests. "On my school. My squad."<br/>
<br/>
"They were, like, national champions," Whitney says.<br/>
<br/>
"Regional," Sydney corrects her. "And it was just a video that the video club at our school made and put it up on YouTube."<br/>
<br/>
"Still, you should watch it," Reagan says, and tosses her long blonde hair behind her shoulder. "They make <i>our</i> squad look like— Oops." With a smirk she mimes zipping her lips shut.<br/>
<br/>
You look across at Eva Garner, who is slumping in her seat across the aisle opposite you. It looks like she's absorbed in her cell phone, but you have the distinct impression she heard Reagan slagging the cheerleader squad, of which she is a member.<br/>
<br/>
"What school was this?" Philip Fairfax asks from farther up the row. He is half-turned around in his chair with a very intent look on his face. (But Philip always looks intense; it seems to be his default setting.)<br/>
<br/>
"Hutchinson High," Sydney says.<br/>
<br/>
"Go Cougars," Reagan titters. Philip picks up his phone and with a frown taps furiously at the screen with his thumbs.<br/>
<br/>
You find yourself reflecting on the spell that Sydney seems to have cast over Reagan and Whitney. These are not shy or stammering girls—not the kind who typically put a wet finger in the wind to see which way it's blowing. They're more like the kind of girls who tell <i>other</i> girls what to do.<br/>
<br/>
And here they are, acting like groupies around Sydney.<br/>
<br/>
You're mulling this when you see a familiar figure sit up very straight in the front row, and look around. Caleb—the guy who got you in trouble with Chelsea—slowly twists in his seat, as though searching the room for someone in particular. From one end of the room to the other, from the front to the back, his eye picks over the room. You have the impression that he looks at every person in the class—or every girl, since it's pretty obvious when his eye has lighted on Eva and Reagan and Sydney and Whitney.<br/>
<br/>
But you're looking directly at him, and so you can't miss it when his gaze sweeps past you completely without settling for an instant on you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The rest of the school day passes without incident. A study hall. Lunch. A gymnastics class. (Yes, it turns out Danielle does do gymnastics.) An English class, where Chelsea Cooper watches you with a glinting but hooded interest. Chemistry and orchestra.<br/>
<br/>
You're not invisible. You've got friends. But you feel like you're on the margins. Though you see smiles of welcome when you slide into your seat next to Audrey Briscoe and Kim Walsh and Kristin Yetter and Genesis Lee (and so many others) you're conscious that you don't talk much but instead spend more time listening and watching and laughing. Not that the others ignore you. Genesis whispers to you about the crush she's got on Blake O'Brien. Kristin shares catty confidences about Katelyn Feaster. Kim asks you if the orchestra might need to hold a fundraiser.<br/>
<br/>
But if Chelsea thinks that Danielle Davis has any kind of influence over her friends' opinions, well ... You just have to remember the admiring looks that Reagan and Whitney were giving Sydney to realize that Danielle has never gotten similarly looks of admiration.<br/>
<br/>
You're pretty distracted, then, as you work on your homework in the library after school. You're not really keen on helping Chelsea out anyway, but you know (with a sinking feeling) that she's going to be an utter pest for ideas about using the masks to help her out. The two obvious strategies fill you with qualms: putting Chelsea in a disguise so she can do the work herself, or filling the school with fakes (like Chen) that will do her bidding. <br/>
<br/>
You get two more ideas, though, after looking up to see Philip Fairfax and Howie Baylor walking through. <i>Roleplaying.</i> Chelsea wanted <i>you</i> to be Yumi or Lin. Maybe instead you could talk her into putting Howie and/or some of his friends under masks of her rivals? They'd be more likely to be your allies than hers in the long run.<br/>
<br/>
Or, more innocently: The school has a video club of its own. Maybe you could talk Chelsea into getting them to make a documentary on the WHS cheerleader squad.</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211131214
author_id: seuzz
title: Who Wants to Be a Video Star?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Have you thought about putting up a video on YouTube, about the cheerleading squad?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's eyes freeze at your question. Behind them you can see the thought: <i>What the fuck are you talking about?</i><br/>
<br/>
It's Thursday afternoon, after school. The rain has finally stopped and the clouds are breaking up, but the air is cool and wet as you and your co-conspirator sit out on the deck by the pool behind her house. Chelsea is bundled up in a sweater and pants and fur-lined boots. You're dressed down more casually in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt with a thin windbreaker to protect against the breeze. It feels funny talking about this stuff out in the open air. But you probably have more privacy out here than you would inside her house. <br/>
<br/>
"Will," Chelsea says, "why are you asking about—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because of what you said last time we talked. You said you wanted people to get the, uh, 'right idea' about you and the rest of the cheerleader squad. So what I'm saying is, maybe you could make, like, a documentary to put up online. An advertisement, basically."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's lips whiten. "You mean something that would make the squad look good?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
Her expression hardens further. 'That would make <i>everyone</i> on the squad look good?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh—"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea doesn't give you time to climb out of the hole you've dug for yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"That's not the kind of idea I had in mind," she says. "I don't want <i>all</i> of us looking good. Only <i>some</i> of us. And making certain <i>other</i> people—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I get it." You lick your lips and look away. When Chelsea gets intense, she is like a cat that wants to hold a staring contest. "But, you know, there are ways of making people <i>look</i> bad in a— in a movie," you stammer. (You are suddenly and keenly aware that you have no idea what you're talking about.) "You know, with editing, and with picking out which bits you want to—" You gulp, because it's like lasers are shooting out of Chelsea's eyes and into your face. "It could be a really subtle—"<br/>
<br/>
"Is this the <i>best</i> idea you could come up with?" Chelsea's tone is wintry.<br/>
<br/>
And somewhere down deep, her attitude provokes you into resistance. <br/>
<br/>
"I just think we need to be subtle," you argue. "You need to be subtle. We've already done some pretty radical things with— with Gordon and Gary and—" You gesture at your face. "We can't just keep making masks and using them to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
Now you do rebel. "Because we're gonna get caught! If we're not careful. Do you want that?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're not going to get caught, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"But if we do—"<br/>
<br/>
"We've got these masks. Perfect disguises. We could always get away. Or if someone catches us, we could just use that stuff we put in your mask, and Gary's, and then they wouldn't be a problem anymore."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes, the stuff that turned Danielle into a very subservient copy of yourself. It gave you a really queer turn the other night, when Danielle, still in her bra and panties, vanished and was replaced by someone who looked like you, but in Danielle's bra and panties. You had changed clothes with him and bundled him out of the bedroom (with orders to be normal and stupid) as quick as you could.</i><br/>
<br/>
But you're too hung up on the idea of using masks to "get away" to worry overmuch about that. It would be a really bad thing, wouldn't it, if you and Chelsea had to use masks to run away and make up new identities for yourself because government agents or someone found out what you had and were up to.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you say. "We're not going to do any more impersonations. It's too risky. I mean, <i>Jesus.</i> Run away?" You thrust out your chin at Chelsea, who has thrust out her chin at you. "Do you actually want to run away, and give up this—" You throw your arms out to encompass her house, her pool, and the girl herself. "If something goes wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's gaze narrows into a squint.<br/>
<br/>
"No, we just figure out some way of using what we've got, without—"<br/>
<br/>
"Do <i>you</i> know how to make an internet documentary?" Chelsea demands. "Do you even know how to <i>upload</i> one?" You bridle at the question but don't answer, for the fact is that you don't. "How would we even do it?"<br/>
<br/>
"We get someone to make it for us," you reply. "There's a video club at school. The, uh—" You have to snap your fingers before you recall the name of it. "The Cinephile Society. Mr. Hawks runs it."<br/>
<br/>
"And you think these guys could—"<br/>
<br/>
"We could ask."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are they?" <br/>
<br/>
Red spots are showing are showing Chelsea's cheeks, so you hesitate before answering, and have to stop yourself from rubbing the back of your hand nervously. "Carlos Montoya. Mike Hollister. Philip Fairfax." Chelsea doesn't instantly explode on hearing the names, so you continue. "They actually have a YouTube channel, they upload videos where they review movies."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea rolls her eyes. "That's not the same as—"<br/>
<br/>
"They know how to handle cameras, and they know how to make stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Because I wound up talking about it with David Scofeld and George Basham last night after the recital. I mentioned that video that Sydney McGlynn was in, and they told me that those guys had a YouTube channel and were all into making videos and stuff. Which Danielle kind-of-sort-of knew but had totally forgotten about. So if Philip Fairfax was interested in Sydney's video it was probably because—</i><br/>
<br/>
"I was talking to some people last night, after the recital," you say aloud.<br/>
<br/>
"Hmph," Chelsea says, and settles back to stare at something over and behind the top of your head. She seems lost in thought, so you hold your breath and say nothing, in case she is in the process of talking herself into approving your idea.<br/>
<br/>
Which she does, sort of. "Well," she says at last, "you can talk to those guys about it, find out if they'd be willing to make a YouTube video about the squad. We could use some kind of publicity anyway, I guess." A little glint comes into her eye, and you guess that she's thinking about how to make herself look good in the video. "But," she continues, and gives you a very direct look. "We have to come up with some <i>other</i> way of handling Cindy and her friends."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, for Chelsea has exhausted you. With a jerk of her chin she dismisses you from her presence.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Friday morning.</i> You have Philip for second period, but you go looking for him earlier, in the first-period English class he told you by text that he has. Philip seems the logical one to talk to. Carlos and Mike are the on-air talent, but Philip was the one interested in Sydney's YouTube documentary, and you also heard from your other friends that he is the behind-the-camera guy and so would probably be the one in charge of making this project.<br/>
<br/>
As you enter Mr. Montague's classroom you do a double-take and wave at the people you know: George Basham, the clarinet player who helped put you on to Philip and his friends in the first place. Cody Schaefer and his friend Terry Colson, who are on the tennis team. Jack Li and Wendy Terrill.<br/>
<br/>
But you let your eye dodge past Jeremiah James, who has turned sideways in his seat and is staring at you with an intense and open interest.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"I think Jeremiah's a stud," Leah Simmons said. She put her hands under the library table and shivered all over as she grinned. "He looks hard all over." She shivered again, then did a double-take at Nicholas Gray, who was sitting next to her, and who had snickered. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"You said he was 'hard'." Nicholas snickers again.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. I bet he is. All the guys in this school are hard down there. </i>You<i> walk around with it hard." She jabbed Nicholas in the shoulder. "I've seen the way you carry your books around in front of your crotch." Nicholas laughed and turned pink.<br/>
<br/>
"Just as long as he doesn't get that way around me," you said.<br/>
<br/>
"Who? Nicholas?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Jeremiah. Who I was complaining about."<br/>
<br/>
"Bitching about," Nicholas says softly.<br/>
<br/>
"Too late," Leah laughs. "I've seen the way he looks at you." Her eyes flash mischievously. "I wish he looked at me that way."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" Nicholas asks. "I mean, would you really want to—? Seriously?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because he's—" Nicholas freezes and turns very pale as a couple of hard stares get turned his way. "Well, it's not usual," he stammers. "Is it? I mean, the only times I ever see, you know—" Color flushes back into his cheeks, and he continues flushing until he is almost purple with embarrassment. "I don't ever see black guys with girls who aren't, uh, black," he finally gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"You can have him," you tell Leah, more to relieve Nicholas of his humiliation than to give Leah permission. "I don't want him."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd take him. Maybe," she adds after flashing Nicholas another narrow look. "I'd give him a chance anyway. So should you." She nudges you. "Jeremiah's a good guy. He's friends with Marc and Austin. He's not like Sean." She shivers again, and so do you, for Sean Sax of the basketball squad has gotten in your face and panted all over you without so much as an invite. If you had to pick one of them, you'd break speed records choosing Jeremiah James over Sean Sax.</i><br/>
<br/>
That was at the end of Danielle's junior year, and Jeremiah's interest has obviously carried over into the new year, even if he has never said anything to her.<br/>
<br/>
If he did, would she still "No"? Only the school's African-American boys seem interested in her ...<br/>
<br/>
But you know what <i>you</i> will say if he works up the nerve to ask you.<br/>
<br/>
Alas, Philip Fairfax has the same word for you when you ask about he and his friends making a video about the cheerleader squad.</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111312141
author_id: seuzz
title: Garners and Gossip
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Philip says not interested n chereleadr thing,</i> you text Chelsea at the end of second period.<br/>
<br/>
And then, because you will likely be spending your third-period study hall in the library with Eva Garner and Jenny Ashton (as Danielle usually does) you turn off your phone. It would be really awkward if Eva caught you texting with Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
The girls are already in deep conversation when you enter the library. They glance up at you briefly as you drop your bag on the table before resuming their talk; you flash a small smile over their heads at Josie Holden, Bonny Trask, and Tara Weston, who are at a nearby table. You ignore Victoria Rodriguez, though, and she ignores you, as she is noisily making out with her boyfriend in a far corner of the room.<br/>
<br/>
You turn to listen to Eva and Jenny even as you take out your just-assigned calculus homework.<br/>
<br/>
"—tell your parents?" Jenny is asking.<br/>
<br/>
"God, no!" Eva gasps and makes a face. "Why would you think I'd—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, did you tell <i>Marc</i> that—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna stop asking for your help, Jenny, if all you are gonna do is ask stupid questions like, did I tell my parents or my brother that ... Pfah!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on, what are you talking about?" you ask. "I promise I won't ask stupid questions."<br/>
<br/>
"Eva caught her brother and his girlfriend up in his bed— Ungh!" Jenny flinches as Eva slaps at her. "Well, if you're gonna tell me, you can tell Danielle!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just keep your voice down!" Eva hisses. She raises up and looks around before ducking back down. "And I didn't <i>catch</i> them," she says in a very low voice when the three of you have your heads together. "Not— What's the word?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking each other?" Jenny offers.<br/>
<br/>
"No! Undressed, in the open. <i>Flagrant,</i> or something."<br/>
<br/>
"Tell it from the beginning," you say. This is the juiciest gossip you've heard since taking over Danielle's life.<br/>
<br/>
"No one was supposed to be home last night," Eva says through tightly pursed lips. "Our mom and dad had theater tickets and were gone all evening, and Jessica and I were doing something with Cindy and Yumi and Lin." Your ears can't help pricking up at this mention of a meeting of Chelsea's arch-rivals.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Eva continues, "we had to move from one place to another on account of bullshit—"<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of bullshit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just bullshit. We were at Starbucks, and a bunch of assholes came in. Ryan Shuler, Dylan Lloyd," she says, naming a couple of basketball players. <i>Sean Sax, probably</i> you can't help adding silently, for he's on the squad too and is friends with them. "Anyway, we moved places, and— Well, while we were moving I ran home to get something, and when I went upstairs—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God! Oh God, Marc! Yes! Oh God, yes!" Jenny moans.<br/>
<br/>
Now Eva outright punches Jenny, almost knocking her out of her chair. "It wasn't—!" she hisses, then catches herself. "It wasn't like <i>that!</i> But what I did hear going on behind his bedroom door, it was pretty goddamn unmistakable."<br/>
<br/>
"You're sure it was Hannah?" you ask. That would be Hannah Westrick, Marc's girlfriend since the start of the school year.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you think Eva is going to punch <i>you.</i> "Yes! Who else? My brother doesn't—!" She glances around again, and lowers her voice still further. "So my disgusting, dumbass brother," she says in a voice that seethes like a pressure cooker on high heat, "spent all fucking summer snapping selfies of his sausage and sending them to Ronnie Miller after she moved—"<br/>
<br/>
"No! He did?" you gasp, and cover your mouth. <i>Wow!</i><br/>
<br/>
"—but he doesn't cheat on his girlfriends!" Eva finishes up. Her face is shining like Rudolf's red nose, but something about the glint in her eye and the tug at the corners of her lips suggests that she takes a familial pride in her brother's honorable faithfulness even as she's mortified by his unbridled horniness.<br/>
<br/>
"But he was with someone?" you ask. "He wasn't just, uh—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Marc doesn't need to get himself off," Jenny says, "not as long as Hannah is—" She tries dodging a third blow from Eva, but fails.<br/>
<br/>
"So what did you do about it?" You feel your eyes bulge as you ask the question. You can't imagine, as either Will Prescott or Danielle Davis, having sex in your bedroom, even with the rest of the house empty.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not funny," Eva snaps, "so stop smiling!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not!" You press your lips together, for you realize that in your excitement you've been flashing a very wide smile. "But what did you do?" you murmur.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. I got out of there as fast and quiet as I could."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you tell Jessica?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I didn't want to tell anyone who actually lives there. This is the first chance I've had to tell anyone. You know?" Her expression twists up. "To find out what I <i>should</i> do?"<br/>
<br/>
"You should tell Marc," Jenny declares firmly. "No, Hannah. Or Austin. Maybe Marcos?" she adds as Eva goggles at her like a stranded fish.<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Eva exclaims when she finally finds her voice. "Why would I—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because Marc has to know. So he doesn't do it again. He's freaking lucky it was <i>you</i> and not your parents who came home while he and Hannah were jammed up inside each other's grills." Eva turns green at Jenny's words. "And if you don't want to tell him directly—"<br/>
<br/>
"He'll still know it was me or Jessica who heard him!"<br/>
<br/>
"So he'll know, so what? Do you want your parents catching him?"<br/>
<br/>
Eva doesn't answer, and you and Jenny exchange a wondering glance as her expression turns thoughtful. "Someone has to tell him," you urge her. It's what Danielle would say—Will Prescott couldn't give a shit what happens to Marc Garner, the captain of the boys' soccer team, and a guy who in his masculine way is almost as glamorous as the cheerleader sisters who with him comprise the Garner triplets.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," she grumbles. Her eyes dart between you and Jenny. "Maybe one of you could—?" She leaves the sentence hanging without finishing it.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have Marc or any of his friends in my classes," Jenny says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, who says you have to? Just go talk to one of them. You know. At lunch or outside class."<br/>
<br/>
Jenny turns from Eva to give you a pinched look. You come real close to ignoring it.<br/>
<br/>
But with a sigh you step up. "I've got Austin in my Chemistry class," you say. "Seventh period. I guess I could—"<br/>
<br/>
Eva grabs your arm. "Could you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes." You pull out of her grasp. "But you owe me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Anything!"<br/>
<br/>
The promise catches your ear. "Anything?"<br/>
<br/>
Now Eva catches herself. "Well, almost anything," she tells you warily. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate. "You were hanging out last night with Cindy and Yumi and Lin?" Eva nods. "What was that about?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You thought maybe you'd have something juicy to share with Chelsea—something to get her off your back—but Eva will only tell you that it was bitch-gripe session about the cheerleading squad, and with a sour frown informs you that she and her friends seem to be stuck with Chelsea as squad captain. It would take seven votes to unseat her, and as long as she has Kendra Saunders, Gloria Rea, and Maria Vasquez in her corner, she is safe. You commiserate with her when she complains about Chelsea's latest round of bitchery.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's only reply to your earlier text is an <i>ok</i> when you check at the start of lunch, and you're careful to ignore her when you go into sixth-period English, for Eva is in that class as well. Chelsea ignores you too, but Eva catches your eye with a hopeful expression.<br/>
<br/>
Then comes Chemistry. You lurk in the doorway of Mr. Cash's classroom and try catching Austin Dougherty's attention there, but he's engrossed in conversation, so you grit your teeth and shuffle into the classroom to his desk.<br/>
<br/>
Jeremiah James—who Austin is talking to—looks up, and his face loses all expression as he stares up at you. You try not to look at him as you smile nervously at Austin and ask if you can talk to him outside real quick. Austin blinks, then with a shrug follows you outside the classroom, down the hallway and outside to the rear of the school. "So what's up?" he asks gruffly.<br/>
<br/>
Your body almost melts under his gaze.<br/>
<br/>
Austin Dougherty is one of the stars of the soccer team. He has meaty thighs, a deep chest, strong shoulders, and eyes of an intense green color beneath a shaggy mop of chestnut-colored hair. His voice is a strong baritone that can sound over the soccer fields even when he isn't shouting. It's all you can do to thrust away the vivid fantasy of him putting his large strong hands behind your shoulders, and pulling and crushing you to his chest as his mouth seeks your throat.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, this is really kind of awkward," you tell him. "But, um, Marc— Your friend Marc, Eva and Jessica's brother? He was home last night, and he had his girlfriend Hannah over? Just the two of them?" You twist on your feet as Austin stares at you without blinking. "Look, don't ask who told me this, or who asked me to tell you. But you need to tell Marc that, um—"<br/>
<br/>
You feel that your face must be turning as black as pitch, for it burns like it's on fire. Austin's frown deepens, and a muscle twitches in his cheek.<br/>
<br/>
"You need to tell Marc that someone came home while he was with Hannah, and that they ... they <i>heard</i> him and Hannah. Up in his bedroom. So that he and Hannah don't, uh, do that again."<br/>
<br/>
Silently you wish for the ground to open beneath you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Austin just said 'okay'," you inform Eva when you find her in the orchestra room. "And God, you still owe me so much for that!"</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121113121412
author_id: seuzz
title: Disguise and Those Guys
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's the last period of the day—Orchestra—but that class has been a kind of vacation for Danielle for the last week or so. The school orchestra has been practicing the third Brandenburg Concerto so she and the other members of the wind and brass sections have been relegated to the practice rooms, where Dr. Heinz thinks you're all practicing a modern wind quintet. <br/>
<br/>
And you and the other kids <i>have</i> been practicing it. Only, you haven't been spending <i>all of eighth period</i> practicing it, and not all ten of you have been practicing it at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
So after Mary Boucher has taken over the bassoon part from you, you settle back in a far corner with the other musicians on break. <br/>
<br/>
"It's Friday," Alex Sheehan sighs with a lazy grin. In his vintage, floral-print shirt and with his dirty mop of long, curly brown hair he looks like one of the "bad" high school kids from an early-70s sitcom. The kind of kid who'd offer Greg Brady a joint, or try touching Marcia Brady's breasts. "Who's going to the Warehouse?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
Raymond Koepp, who is slouching on the floor and playing with his shoelaces, snorts and snickers but says nothing. Gabriel Cardona only bends over the screen of his cell phone. But George Basham says, "I might." He doesn't say it loudly, but he's got a honk in his voice—a mellifluous honk, like the horn of the Mercedes he drives—and his words bounce off the back wall of the room. "Who's playing?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one, it's just a dance night," Raymond says.<br/>
<br/>
"You and Haley going?"<br/>
<br/>
Raymond shrugs and says, "What about you and Abby?" George grunts.<br/>
<br/>
You have to wonder if George is serious about maybe going to the Warehouse—the city's most dangerous party spot—of if he's just making noise to sound braver and more cool than he actually is. He's a country-club kid who takes AP classes with other country-club kids and attends music recitals at the university—he was with you on Wednesday, and had a few bitchy things to say about the clarinetist. You've never seen him or his friends with Mansfield or Gardinhire or Kelsey or their group, though. But you're also vaguely aware—thanks to Danielle's brain—that there's some kind of bad blood between George's friends and Geoff's.<br/>
<br/>
These idle reflections are derailed, though, when you catch Alex peering at you sidelong with a hungry expression. "What about you?" he says, and little ropes of spit stretch and snap between his teeth as he asks it. "Could pick you up at nine."<br/>
<br/>
"Probably not," you say. You've no plans, but you'll likely wind up at Catherine Muskov's place, if anywhere.<br/>
<br/>
"Ten?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll have to fight Jeremiah for her," George says.<br/>
<br/>
Your gullet freezes.<br/>
<br/>
"Who's that?" Alex asks. "Is he on the football team?" <br/>
<br/>
"Soccer team," George says. "Almost as bad. He's, like, six-two, and he could bench-press <i>you."</i><br/>
<br/>
"So?" Alex's voice turns belligerent, but shrill.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going out with Jeremiah," you announce. Your eyes are focused on the floor, and try as you might can't wrench them away to look anyone in the face.<br/>
<br/>
"Has he asked you yet?" George asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No." A cold ripple, like a tongue of ice water, washes down your spine. "What do you mean, 'yet'?"<br/>
<br/>
But George doesn't reply, and no one says anything until Alex nudges your foot. "If you don't wanna go out with him," he says, "it's simple. Tell him you got a boyfriend already." You look up at him. He smirks at you, and scratches the side of his mouth with his fingernail. "I'll be your fake boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't need— I'll just tell him 'No'."<br/>
<br/>
For a moment no one says anything. Then George turns to Raymond and starts talking to him about possible camping trips they and their girlfriends might go on, now that the heat will be off the mountains.<br/>
<br/>
And when you can't take Alex's smirks anymore, you pick up your bassoon and cross over to the opposite corner, where you practice the fingering on the quintet.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"He's <i>going</i> to ask you out," Kristin Yetter tells you later that night. You're between parties, at Starbucks, having left Catherine's place with Kristin and her boyfriend and a few other people, but not having found another place to go. "Oh, God." She makes a face. "George <i>told</i> you that—? What exactly did he say?" Her expression scrunches up.<br/>
<br/>
"George told Alex he'd have to fight Jeremiah for me." The acid in your coffee isn't doing your digestion any good. "Then he asked me if Jeremiah had asked me out. Yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Well, that's what he means." Kristin winces. She has a very mobile, very expressive face. Her eyes can go from pinpricks to headlamps in the bat of an eyelash; her practically-prehensile nose can squinch and scrunch up like an accordion; and with a twist of her mouth she can almost slide her lips all the way over to her ears. (Well, not really. But it seems like she can.) She is using her skills now to express dismay, embarrassment, disgust and annoyance. All at once.<br/>
<br/>
She twists around to squint at her boyfriend, David Scofeld, who has his arm around her shoulders. "You should totally punch out George," she says. "Totally."<br/>
<br/>
He gasps. "I'm not gonna punch out— I don't punch out people." <i>No,</i> you think, <i>you probably don't. You just cold-shoulder them at country club receptions.</i> David is cut from the same bolt of cloth as Geoff Mansfield: a well-coiffed brunette in polos and slacks and loafers, with a watch, a skinny gold necklace about his throat, and probably a couple of hundred dollars on a money clip in his pocket.<br/>
<br/>
Actually, comparing David to Geoff is doing David an injustice. He's cheerful and low-key, and when he opened the car door for you at Catherine's, it was like a friendly, casual gesture instead of something smarmy like if Geoff had done it. No, the worst thing that David Scofeld could do is—<br/>
<br/>
"Well, run him over with your car," Kristin suggests. David flashes you a look of pain.<br/>
<br/>
Benjamin Grove—a tall, reserved violinist in the chamber orchestra—speaks up. "How do you know this guy—? Jeremiah? How do you know he's going to ask Danielle out?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's been talking about it for weeks," Kristin says. "No one—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're friends with him?" Benjamin takes a careful sip from his mug.<br/>
<br/>
"No, we just heard— I think it was from the Garners—"<br/>
<br/>
"Eva and Jessica?" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"Or Marc. Anyway, we heard, like, start of the school year—" Kristin squirms in her seat. "I guess we thought he'd have asked you by now. George shouldn't tease you about it. Though now you know—" The exasperation vanishes from her face, to be replaced by a hooded curiosity shaded with hunger. "You can think about what you'll say."<br/>
<br/>
Prickles run all over your skin. But what do those prickles mean? Horror or excitement? Both, maybe? You don't want <i>any</i> guy sidling up to you and asking you out, and you're glad you had the presence of mind to pick an alias that didn't come with a boyfriend. But it's not only your discomfort you feel, but Danielle's own embarrassment at being pinioned this way. And underneath that you feel an almost violent ambivalence about being asked out by Jeremiah James. The question <i>Why does it have to be him?</i> is slugging it out with <i>At least it would be him and not Sean Sax.</i><br/>
<br/>
You excuse yourself for the restroom.<br/>
<br/>
Afterward, as you're washing your hands, Kennedy Palmer—another violinist in the chamber orchestra—comes in. "Someone should run over <i>Kristin</i> with a car," she says as she leans in at the sink next to you.<br/>
<br/>
"I started it," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
She hesitates. "I don't mean to pry," she says. "But have you, um ... It seems like guys have a hard time asking you out."<br/>
<br/>
<i>How would you know that?</i> you wonder. <i>Oh, is </i>that<i> what they're talking about out there while I'm in here?</i> "I've had guys ask me out," you say aloud. "I just haven't gone out with any. Except in, like, groups. Like tonight." You shut up before you totally lose your breath, which is coming in gulps.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh," she says. "I guess that's why Jeremiah would be so nervous about asking you."<br/>
<br/>
You don't answer. Back out at the table, you have the impression that your return has caused the conversation to abruptly change course.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You were out partying Friday night because Chelsea texted to say she had nothing to for you, and you don't hear from her until Saturday evening, when she asks you to come up to the school. You pass Gordon's Bug, heading away from the school, as you're driving in.<br/>
<br/>
But Chelsea isn't alone when you get up to the loft. You do a hard double-take, and suck in your breath, when you see who's with her. Chelsea herself claps her hands with delight. "What do you think?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"What do I think of what?" You're tempted to run away, but that would probably look even worse.<br/>
<br/>
"Him, silly. I did it myself, and it works!"<br/>
<br/>
"Did what?"<br/>
<br/>
Then, when Philip Fairfax turns a dull, docile eye from you to Chelsea, you realize what she must mean. Your jaw drops, and you point at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you saying—? Did you do to him—? What we did to Gary?" You feel yourself paling as Chelsea nods. "But how? You didn't have any masks!"<br/>
<br/>
"I made some! I got your guy— The fake you, I mean, Will, to bring me the book, and I sent Gary to pick up supplies. I figured you were busy with your social life. <i>Now</i> we'll get our YouTube video made. Won't we?" she says, turning to Philip.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you say," Philip replies. He sounds very agreeable.<br/>
<br/>
"Now we need one for you, so we can stay in touch," Chelsea tells you. "How about Steve Sax? He's on the squad, and he'd be perfect as Danielle's boyfriend!"</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211131214124
author_id: seuzz
title: The Go-Between
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What are you talking about?" you shriek, even though you're pretty damn sure you know what Chelsea is talking about.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm talking about making another one of these for <i>you,</i> Will," she replies, sounding as though she knows that <i>you</i> know exactly what she's talking about. "Well, not another one of <i>him,</i>" she adds, indicating the docile Philip Fairfax. "He's twice as beige as we need up here, and four times the beige would be at least eight times more beige than I personally could—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't need a boyfriend!"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea looks vastly amused, but she only shrugs. "We need some way of <i>talking</i> to each other," she reminds you. "Someone to take messages from you to me, and who'd look natural next to you and to me. I was thinking Sean," she prattles on, ignoring your glare, "because he's on the basketball team and could be Gordon's new best friend—" She gags. "We could also get rid of Steve and Jason that way, finally—"<br/>
<br/>
"Not Sean."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea blinks. "Not for Gordon's new best friend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not for <i>me!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Well, I don't think there are any other black guys for Danielle to date."<br/>
<br/>
"Why does it have to be a black guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Chelsea looks shocked. "Don't tell me you have a problem with <i>black people!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You clench your fists. "If I had a problem with black people, would I be looking like <i>this?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea turns a little pink, and her mouth turns prim. "There's a difference, Will," she says, "between <i>being</i> black and <i>dating</i> black. But if you've got a problem with having a black guy for a boyfriend, even if he is a fake—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have a problem, but I don't like you <i>assuming</i> I want one!"<br/>
<br/>
"But it's the natural thing for Danielle—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Now who's being offensive?"</i><br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's mouth falls open. "What?" she says. "Danielle doesn't—?" She peers at you. "Doesn't Danielle, um, want—?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's already turned down Sean! He spent most of their junior year trying to rub up against her. <i>And</i> she turned down LeShawn Puckett, when—"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Le</i> Shawn?" Her brow crinkles. "Who's he? Is he black? Is he that black guy on the soccer team?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, LeShawn's on the track team. That's Jeremiah on the soccer team, and I think I'm getting ready to turn <i>him</i> down too."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's eyes widen, and she guffaws. "You <i>think</i> you're going to turn him down? You mean you aren't sure? Oh, Will," she laughs as you gasp at her. "You can have anyone you want. I bet Danielle could have her pick. She's very pretty." She reaches out to finger a strand of your hair, and ignores the way you flinch. "Don't you think she's pretty?" she asks Philip over her shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes I do," Philip says. His tone is flat but amiable.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell you what, Will," Chelsea says. "<i>You</i> pick whoever you want. Except, you know, it has to be someone I can be seen with."<br/>
<br/>
"Like who would that be?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea puts her hand on her hip. "Don't talk to me like you think I'm a snob, Will. I mean, just don't be stupid and suggest someone like—" She rolls her eyes. "That girl on the basketball squad. The black girl, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Almida Jones?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, the other one. The one they call 'dump truck' behind her back."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "So someone Danielle can hang out with and you can be seen with."<br/>
<br/>
"I think that's exactly what I said, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what about him?" You chuck your chin at the fake Philip, who has been listening to all this with a faintly puzzled frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" Chelsea glances over her shoulder, then wheels back on you. "Oh my God, you're not serious!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look at him!"<br/>
<br/>
You don't see what's so objectionable about Philip Fairfax. He is a pale, clear-skinned redhead whose crew cut and black-framed glasses give him the look of a mid-century NASA engineer—a look only amplified by the plain white t-shirt, the heavy brown trousers, and the black canvas sneakers. The lack of animation in his face also gives him the air of someone preoccupied with calculating angles of trajectories for model rockets. <i>Yes, he's probably a natural at "Angry Birds,"</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
It must be that nerdishness that Chelsea objects to. Fortunately, you have a ready riposte. "But he's going to be making that YouTube video for the cheerleader squad, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ye-es. Well, him and his friends." A flicker of fear shows in her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"So that's why he's a natural go-between. He'll be talking to you while making it. Probably he'll be doing lots of consulting with you. I mean, you're going to be running it, basically, right? Telling him and friends what exactly you want, looking at the footage, choosing what goes in and what gets cut out, suggesting—" You relish each nail that you thwack into the argument, and continue until Chelsea looks utterly crushed.<br/>
<br/>
It's with a forlorn frown that she looks between you and Philip. "I guess you're right," she says as she studies him. Then she shakes herself. "Well, it could be worse," she sighs. "At least he's presentable." She glances back at you. "Did you go online and look at the guys who put themselves <i>on camera?</i> Whew!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's all she has to say to you that night. But the next morning she sends you a text asking when you'll be available for another meeting. (You get it in the middle of church, much to your parents' anger and consternation. It's your own fault for accidentally leaving your phone on, but you still privately blame Chelsea.) Because you have Sunday dinner, you're not able to get together with her at the school until the middle of the afternoon, by which time it's too late. But she didn't need you anyway—it was just a planning session with fake-Philip and his YouTube crew to talk about the documentary. "I don't know why Philip wasn't interested," Chelsea tells you when you finally catch up to her. "The other three guys were, like, over the moon about it. I bet they went home and did things with their wieners afterward, they seemed so happy."<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you were surprised too when Philip turned down your idea. It makes a lot more sense that guys would be happy to film cheerleaders.<br/>
<br/>
But there's no other reason to be up at the school, so you go home. Chelsea, though, has another meeting planned—the one where she tells the other cheerleaders that there's going to be a YouTube video starring them. <br/>
<br/>
You wonder how that's going to go.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Monday morning.</i> You're passing the gym when you hear your name shouted. It's Jenny Ashton. "Hey, just wanted to say, you know, thanks for taking care of that thing with Marc," she says. She looks very embarrassed.<br/>
<br/>
"Did it work?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Guess so. Eva told me last night Marc spent all weekend not talking to her or Jessica."<br/>
<br/>
"Why? Is he mad?"<br/>
<br/>
"I 'unno. Maybe he was just embarrassed." She glances over your shoulder. "Oh, those dumbasses. Look at that." She chucks her chin at something behind you.<br/>
<br/>
It's a crowd of half a dozen guys. You vaguely recognize them, though only one of them—Spencer Osbourne—has a name you can put to them. He and two others are squatting on the grass to form a blunt, three-man pyramid while the others tussle over a cell phone. "Eat a dick!" one of them shouts. "What's going on over there?" you ask Jenny.<br/>
<br/>
"They're trying to get a job filming cheerleaders."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, didn't you hear? Chelsea"—Jenny says the name like it's something squishy and venomous clinging to her tongue—"had the bright idea to get some guys to make a YouTube documentary about the cheerleader squad. It's been all over Snapchat and those places since last night."<br/>
<br/>
"And those are the guys making it?" you ask, even though those aren't the boys that Chelsea hired.<br/>
<br/>
"No, those are just some dipshits, decided they're gonna make videos about the cheerleaders too. Or maybe just random girls." She makes a face. "They tried getting <i>me</i> to help out, do some cheerleader poses for them."<br/>
<br/>
"They couldn't find anyone else?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," Jenny says acidly. "They were totally scraping the bottom of the barrel when they asked <i>me."</i><br/>
<br/>
"That's not what I meant. I only meant, they couldn't find <i>anyone</i> to help them? 'Cos it's just them over there."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I not. I mean, look at them. Friggin' losers."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Jenster," Carson Ioeger says he brushes past you to drop his pack at Jenny's feet. "Danielle." His eye glints as he takes his cell phone from his pocket. "You look like a couple of girls who'd love to be in a YouTube video."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Carson insists he and James just mean to make a parody of whatever video Chelsea's having made, but you're happy enough to return to the student parking lot in answer to the mysterious text from Philip Fairfax (of all people). He's on the very far side of the lot, and he sweeps his arm in a broad wave to get your attention.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," he exclaims, and there's a wild look in his eye when reach him. "About freaking time! You've gotta help me!"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart leaps into your throat. Something is very off about him. "What's wrong, Philip?" you ask, feigning innocence and calm.<br/>
<br/>
"It's this fucking mask, Will," he says, and now your heart goes sideways. "I can't get the memories!"<br/>
<br/>
"Memories, Philip?" <i>Has something gone wrong with the mask? Is this the real Philip?</i> "I don't know what—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't play dumb, Will! I put this mask on, but it's like I don't know who or what the fuck I'm supposed to be!"<br/>
<br/>
It seems to take you hours to realize what he means.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea?" you squeak.</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111312141241
author_id: seuzz
title: When Cheerleaders Try Calculus
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Philip Fairfax glares at you. "What part of 'I'm wearing a mask' don't you understand, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know it was you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who else would it be?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Maybe you were the real Philip,</i> you almost retort. <i>Maybe you fucked up that mask you made.</i> Instead, you just mutter, "Well, you took me by surprise. You didn't tell me you were going to— I thought you said he was disgusting!"<br/>
<br/>
"He's not <i>disgusting!</i>" Philip seemingly protests of himself. "He's just, you know." He pulls at the white t-shirt he's wearing under the beige windbreaker. A cold breeze is blowing, and it riffles his coppery crew cut. "He's just not someone I'd really care to be see around."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're being seen around him now. That's his face"—you point at his nose—"you've got stapled onto yours."<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I mean!" he hisses. Then— "Look out!" He grabs you and pulls you down behind a sedan. A truck grumbles past. "Oh, wait, what am I doing?" He clucks his tongue. "No one cares if this guy and Danielle are hanging out together."<br/>
<br/>
"Gee, thanks. But what's the idea? Why are you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, can you skip first period? Go off campus with me?" Philip dances in place, like he has to pee.<br/>
<br/>
You've got Current Issues first period—a bullshit social studies class—but Danielle is a good girl who doesn't skip. "As long as we're back in time for second," you tell him. "Can Philip skip first?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know!" A red spot blazes out in his forehead. "That's the freaking problem, you dumb bint!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You drive yourself and Chelsea/Philip a mile back in to town, and land at Salvation Donuts. As the time for classes approaches and then passes, you think you see a dark shadow of suspicion cross the face of the fat woman behind the counter, but she says nothing. You make sure to keep your and Chelsea's voices low.<br/>
<br/>
It's very odd thinking of the person opposite you as Chelsea. Philip Fairfax hasn't the most masculine face, but it is definitely a boy's face, with pasty skin stretched over the hard brow line and bones of his face. You idly try to imagine him with Chelsea's golden curls falling down the side of his face and draping over his beige windbreaker; and you have to stifle a smile, for no mere wig could soften the blunt nerdiness of Philip's face.<br/>
<br/>
At the same time, you can hardly believe this is the quiet, intense, logical Philip Fairfax that Danielle vaguely knows. His eyes bulge and dart, and his face blushes like he's been rubbing it in poison ivy, and he twitches and squirms in his seat. Worst is when his eyes screw up behind his glasses, like he's about to burst into tears. Haltingly, this ... person ... on the other side of the table tells you the story. The long and short of it is that Chelsea decided that Philip and his friends needed on-the-spot supervision if they were to turn out the kind of video she wants.<br/>
<br/>
"It's his stupid friends," she says, her eyes narrowing into slits of envy behind Philip's black-framed glasses. "They've got stupid-ass crushes Eva and Jessica or something." Her voice—a soft baritone—is ragged with fury. "Anyway, that's what Philip the Fake told me when we talked last night, and the way he described it, it sounds like they're going to make the Eva and Jessica Garner Fun-Time Variety Hour or some bullshit like that.<br/>
<br/>
"So that's when I decided to keep a close watch on things. You know, seize the controls, so to speak." Chelsea turns very prim, and sips her coffee in a way that would earn Philip a medal in an Olympic-caliber So-Gay-It-Hurts-To-Watch-Him event. "So I told the fake to meet me out at the parking lot early, so we could switch places."<br/>
<br/>
"So is someone covering for you?" you ask. "I mean, is there someone who, uh, looks like ... <i>you</i> who's—"<br/>
<br/>
"I have a mask that looks like me," she tells you. "I put that stuff in it and put it on Philip. Changed clothes and everything, naturally." Her brow furrows. "It was pretty freaking weird talking to myself," she mutters.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Did you notice that you were kind of a bitch?</i> you wonder. Aloud: "Yeah it is. So what happened after you, uh, put on Philip's mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"I went to sleep. And when I woke up I was, like, well, here I am again. I got dressed." She flinches. "I guess you guys are used to it, you know. Having that thing flopping around between your legs. Gyuh. I mean, don't get me wrong," she adds hastily. "I, uh, appreciate what you can do with it. But having it <i>attached</i> to you, dangling down there—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's no weirder than missing it after growing up with one," you retort. You regret the outburst when Chelsea blinks, draws back, and looks you up and down thoughtfully. "But you were saying you don't have the memories?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. No, I don't." Her lower lip practically drips into her lap. "How long did it take you to, uh—?" She points at your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Instantly, practically. Actually, when I woke up I had to remind myself that I wasn't actually—" You mouth the name: "Danielle."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? Because that night up in my bedroom I didn't think you were much in character."<br/>
<br/>
"Danielle's a polite girl. I didn't feel much like being polite."<br/>
<br/>
A wounded light comes into Chelsea's eyes. "Was it something I said?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. I was just disoriented. Because I had two people fighting it out inside my skull. But you don't know anything about Philip?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope."<br/>
<br/>
"Home address? Parents' names? Brothers or sisters? Class schedule?" She shakes her head to all of these. "Do you know what you have second period? You have it with me. Well, Danielle. AP Calculus."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes pop. "I can't do that! I don't know anything about anything with x's and y's and those root thingies!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Boy, if that's what she thinks calculus consists of, she'd be really lost in it.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't have much time to figure out what the problem is with Philip's mask before you have to return to school, for you really can't afford to miss second period. Chelsea, on the other hand, can't afford to go, not with the kind of "amnesia" that she's suffering. So she skips the whole day. <br/>
<br/>
You're distracted all through math and your third-period study hall as you puzzle it out. There shouldn't be a problem with Philip's mask—the fake Philip that Chelsea made acted just like him, so it must contain his memories. The trouble must be on Chelsea's end. Maybe she's got some kind of psychological block about inhabiting the role of Philip Fairfax? Still, it doesn't seem ... <i>politic</i> ... to suggest that the problem is with her.<br/>
<br/>
You're on your way out of the cafeteria after lunch when someone calls you—a Hispanic guy whose dark hair is trimmed into a kind of fauxhawk. Not until he says, "Philip texted me, said I needed to talk to you," do you recognize him. It's Carlos Montoya, one of the guys who helps Philip run that YouTube channel. One of the "on-camera talent." "Oh, uh huh," you say. "What's up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you know this thing we're making on the cheerleader squad?" he says. "Philip says you're helping out." His brow furrows.<br/>
<br/>
So does yours. "I am?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what Philip says. Did you talk to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um, I guess? Kind of? I think, maybe, I talked to him about maybe making something about the cheerleaders?" Sweat breaks out up and down your back.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Philip says you're involved. We're gonna have a meeting after school. Can you come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I guess." You scratch your scalp, which has begun to badly itch. "Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure, probably my place. But Philip's sick, says he might not be able to make it."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we should put it off then."<br/>
<br/>
"He says he wants us to go ahead." Carlos shrugs, broadly. "You're friends with some of the girls on the squad, right?" You nod. "I guess that's why Philip thinks you should— I mean," he adds, turning a little red, "it would be great to have you helping. But also, uh, maybe you could, you know, introduce us and stuff." He squirms on his feet, and you realize he's probably as sweaty and confused as you.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, text me when you know what's going on," you tell him, and you exchange contact information. <i>Just don't text me before I get together with Chelsea to figure out what's going on with her.</i> <br/>
<br/>
You do a double-take at a small blonde kid with glasses who has crept up behind Carlos and is staring at you hard from behind his shoulder. Carlos glances back. "Oh, this is Josiah," he says. "You know each other?" You shake your head. "He's our sound guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." You finally tear your gaze away from Josiah's. It was like trying to outstare a cat. As you stumble from the cafeteria, you sweatily wonder what you've got yourself into with this "YouTube video" idea.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your house is empty, so that's where you meet Chelsea immediately after school. She's still in Philip's mask, but she's a lot calmer than she was this morning. "I think maybe I'm getting <i>something</i>," she says. "Like, little flashes that are sort of like memories? Like dreams you half remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? That's good," you say. Just not good enough. "Are you going to meet up with the guys tonight? That planning session?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't. Uh, maybe we should switch masks? You could go to it as Philip. Maybe the mask will work for you, and Danielle's will work on me?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. It would be a good test.<br/>
<br/>
Upstairs, Chelsea shuts the bedroom door on you both. After a pause, you pull off your jacket and sweep off your sweatshirt, exposing your bra and torso. You're about to undo your jeans when Chelsea cries out. "Oh God," she shouts.<br/>
<br/>
You gape at her, then follow her gaze as she stares down at herself in horror.<br/>
<br/>
The front of Philip's trousers is tenting.</span></div></div>


path: 1131221121113121412412
author_id: seuzz
title: The Crisis in Chelsea's Trousers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Oh God, what's happening?" Philip Fairfax's soft baritone rises to a shrieking soprano. He stumbles back against your bedroom door and raises his hands over his head, as though surrendering to a mugger.<br/>
<br/>
In a sense, he is. Chelsea Cooper—who is inhabiting Philip's body—is being mugged by a very male erection.<br/>
<br/>
At least you have to assume that's what's going on. The bulge in the front of Philip's tan-brown khakis swells even as you gaze on it with a kind of horrified glee. Now it's a mound; now it's a tent; now it's a pyramid. If the fabric continues to give, it might turn into an obelisk. "Don't laugh!" Chelsea yells.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't help it!" you titter from behind your hand. "Don't you <i>know</i> what that is?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>I know exactly what it is! WHY IS IT HAPPENING?"</i><br/>
<br/>
That you can't answer. <i>Chelsea Cooper is getting a boner</i> is a sentence that doesn't make sense in any language.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just try to relax," you tell her. "Get on the bed."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Chelsea's eyes bulge behind Philip's glasses.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, then sit on the floor. You're gonna have to, um, splay your legs out."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea slides down the door, hitting the floor with a groan. She hisses and twists in place, clenching her fists high over her sweating brow.<br/>
<br/>
You have to wipe some sweat off your own brow. Of course as a teenage boy you are deeply—not to say <i>throbbingly</i>—familiar with the kind of trouble she's having, and you know what you'd likely do if it was you and you were back in your own bedroom. But that seems like a nonstarter here and now. Never mind talking Chelsea into unzipping her trousers and letting the snake romp free. You're not sure that you could even voice the suggestion.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea is whimpering now, and she gasps as you drop next to her and take her hand. "It'll be alright, Chelsea," you tell her. "You're not going through anything that any other— I mean, that any guy hasn't gone through."<br/>
<br/>
"Take the mask off," she moans. "Get it off me. I don't want—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sh! Shhhhh! Now let me think about this." Some kind of idea is struggling to express itself through the tangled confusion of synapses that is presently passing for your brain. "You said you were getting some of Philip's memories earlier? Like dreams?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ye-es," she says through clenched teeth.<br/>
<br/>
You stroke her hand. "And now you're—"<br/>
<br/>
She wrenches her hand from yours. "That's not helping, Will! It's like Gordon used to—! And that scent in your—! Oh, God!"<br/>
<br/>
She thrashes, kicking at the air and bashing the door with her bobbing skull. You grip her and pull her close, to stop her from hurting herself. Now you're terrified that this isn't a mere "penis panic," as Keith Tilley used to call them back in middle school. What if Philip has epilepsy, or something like that? You've heard that epileptics hiss and thrash uncontrollably, which is what Chelsea is doing now.<br/>
<br/>
So you grab at her forehead, to pull the mask off.<br/>
<br/>
But before you can get a good grip, she stops and sags with a groan. "Oh God. What—? Oh God it's—!" She swallows: a very sticky sound. "It's like it was doing acrobatics down there. And—" She sucks on her bottom lip. "It's still alive. I can— I can feel it. But it's— I think it's better."<br/>
<br/>
Now it's your turn to mutter a silent <i>Oh God.</i> "I think you need to go into the bathroom," you gently inform her. "Kick off your shoes, go in the bathroom, and take off your pants and underwear. <i>Carefully.</i> Um, if your underthings are, uh, wet, put them in the sink to soak. You're going to have to wipe yourself down—" Chelsea bolts upright to stare at you. "You'll probably have to go commando when you're done."<br/>
<br/>
"Go commando?" she echoes. "You don't mean pants without underwear, do you?" You nod, bracing yourself for the storm. But she just blinks and says, "Okay."<br/>
<br/>
You help her up and send her—tottering, bowlegged, on the tips of her toes, like she doesn't want anything below her waist to touch anything else below her waist—into the hall bathroom. Back in the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed and try to fit the pieces together.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chelsea is pale—pale even for Philip Fairfax—when she returns ten minutes later. "So," she says. "I creamed my jeans."<br/>
<br/>
"You know the expression?"<br/>
<br/>
"I have a boyfriend," she retorts, "and he's got the usual disgusting friends, so yeah, I know the expression. I just never—" She bites her lip. "I wish I knew what set it off!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have any idea?" You cross your legs Indian style, and put your breasts out. "You sure it wasn't <i>me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Her jaw drops. "I'm not attracted to you! To Danielle, I mean." But though there mouth says <i>No,</i> her troubled brow says <i>Am I?</i><br/>
<br/>
"It's either you or Philip," you tell her. "Either <i>you</i> got excited and his body reacted, or <i>he's</i> in there with you, somewhere inside—" You point at her forehead. "And <i>he</i> got excited."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's jaw slackens. "You mean you think he <i>is</i> inside me?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's in the mask. We know that. Because the mask, when you put it on him, it had his memories and stuff so it could act like him. So he's got to be in there. And you said you thought you were getting some of his memories. So I think the mask is working. It's just— It's like it's taking time to get going."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea frowns, and she pushes up Philip's glasses to rub at her eyes. "Well, so how come it's hard for me to get the memories, but you got Danielle's right away? Maybe," she continues before you can answer, "we should switch masks to see what happens?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, not yet. If it takes time to get the memories, then if you take the mask off you might have to start all over again. Let's leave things like this, see what happens."<br/>
<br/>
"But I can't go home! Not back to, uh, Philip's house, not if I can't, you know, <i>act</i> like him!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure you can," you tell Chelsea with more confidence than you feel. "Just stay in your room and tell his parents you have homework. Anytime I see Philip he's got his nose stuck in a book anyway, so I bet he's that way at home too. Oh, but wait." You snap your fingers. "There's supposed to be some kind of meeting at Carlos's place tonight, to plan out the videos."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, I already told them I'm not going."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "So stay in. Tomorrow morning—" You cock your head. "Maybe a good night's sleep will get rid of whatever block you've got. Maybe you just need to relax more. You've, er, got a pretty strong personality, if you don't mind me saying so, Chelsea." She just stares mulishly at you. "Maybe you need to, sort of, get out of the way before Philip can move into your head."<br/>
<br/>
"He already moved into my panties," she mutters as she turns away. "If he gets in any deeper ... "<br/>
<br/>
But she yields to your suggestion, and tells you that she'll see you tomorrow at school if you don't hear from her before then.<br/>
<br/>
Only after she's gone do you find the set of tidy whities she left soaking in the bathroom sink. With a grimace you lift them out with your finger and thumb, wring them dry with a hand towel, then bury them in the garbage.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The "production meeting"—which is what Carlos calls it in his text to you—is held at a Starbucks. It runs for a little over an hour, and it gives you a bad feeling. Not for what the guys want to do, but for what it portends for Chelsea's schemes.<br/>
<br/>
"It's gonna need a story," Mike Hollister says. He's an excitable kid with wide-set eyes, a gaping grin, and a complexion like tomato soup. "It can't just feature cheerleader routines," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?" Carlos demands with a grin. His fauxhawk bristles, like the coxcomb of a rooster on its way to an assignation.<br/>
<br/>
Mike blinks—<br/>
<br/>
And it's a funny thing about his blinks, that they're more like full-body spasms. He twitches all over, and it's like his whole face and not his eyelids is trying to snap shut. "Well, we want lots of those too," he says. He blinks again, almost knocking over his coffee. "But there has to be a point to them. There has to be, you know, suspense—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I get what you're saying," Carlos says. "Totally, and I'm totally with you." He leans forward, as though sharing a conspiratorial thought. "It needs a heroine. Someone we can root for."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a competition," you cautiously point out.<br/>
<br/>
"It could be," Mike says after a moment's thoughtful silence. "There could be a contest for ... Well, something."<br/>
<br/>
"You're friends with Eva and Jessica Garner, right?" Carlos asks you. "Could you talk to them about what kind of competition they could be in?"<br/>
<br/>
Actually, you could give them an answer now: a competition to unseat Chelsea as captain of the squad. But that wouldn't be good for Chelsea, and it wouldn't be a good advertisement for the squad itself.<br/>
<br/>
More ideas get kicked around. A competition for a small scholarship. A contest to join an elite sub-squad that would then stage a contest against the Eastman High cheerleaders. A <i>Bachelor</i>-style fight to date some eligible guy. But they all come back around to the same idea: It has to be a story about some girls struggling to overcome some obstacles in order to achieve some goal. Nothing gets decided, though that doesn't relieve the sense of dread that has settled over you.<br/>
<br/>
That's bad enough. But at the end Carlos drops big news.<br/>
<br/>
"So it's too bad Philip wasn't here," he tells you in the parking lot as you're leaving. "Or maybe it's lucky he wasn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Why's that?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a sidelong grin. "Maybe I shouldn't say anything," he says, "or maybe you need a little warning. But he's got a giant crush on you."</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211131214124121
author_id: seuzz
title: A Science Nerd Reports
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Oh, <i>Jesus!</i> Philip Fairfax—the guy that Chelsea is impersonating—has a crush on you?<br/>
<br/>
On Danielle Davis?<br/>
<br/>
You thank Carlos for the heads up, and stagger home.<br/>
<br/>
You finished your homework before heading out to that meeting, so you've nothing to distract yourself as you perch on your bed with your cell phone, exchanging desultory texts with friends, checking in to Snapchat and Instagram and other places, and edging up to before backing away from sending any texts to "Philip" to check on how he's doing.<br/>
<br/>
For what would you say?<br/>
<br/>
<i>hey, you getting philip's memories yet? what do you think of when you think of danielle?<br/>
<br/>
hey there, i think i know y u had that accident today.<br/>
<br/>
hi, just checking in, you'll know you got philip's memories if i'm in a wet dream tonite.</i><br/>
<br/>
But though it's a mortifying discovery, at the same time you're not sure it's a bad thing. Sure, it might make things really awkward between you if Chelsea sticks to impersonating Philip—what if she can't get a firm hand (so to speak) on those urges?—but there is potentially an upside.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea is bound not to act on them, right? But if Philip has a crush on Danielle, and that word got out, then it would be great cover if ... you started going out with him.<br/>
<br/>
Not because you want a boyfriend, still less because you want <i>Philip Fairfax</i> for a boyfriend. But because then you wouldn't have to worry about Sean Sax or Jeremiah James or LeShawn Puckett—or anyone else—making a play for you while you're in this disguise.<br/>
<br/>
All the way up until bedtime, then, you can't put your cell phone away, in case you get a text from Chelsea, or in case you decide to text her yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Tuesday dawns as a cold October day, and the rains have returned as you turn into the Westside parking lot. You're wearing stockings under your skirt; boots; and have layered an undershirt and a woolen sweater under a jeans jacket, and topped your head with a green-and-blue tam o' shanter. You don't brave the weather right away after parking, but sit in your car waiting for Chelsea. She had texted you early, asking to meet in the parking lot. <i>ok,</i> you'd replied, but said nothing else.<br/>
<br/>
It's ten minutes before classes are to start when she texts to ask where you are. You get out and look around, and a moment later you see Philip's head bobbing up a couple of rows away. He waves at you, then runs over. You get back in your car; he jumps in on the passenger side. "Hey," he says. "How'd the production meeting go last night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. We should talk about it. How's your head?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes freeze. Then he says, "Oh, you mean my brain? My and Philip's brain?" You nod.<br/>
<br/>
He slides his tongue across his lower lip, then pushes up his glasses to rub at his eyes. It was a gesture he made yesterday, but today ... now ... it seems ... in character? Somehow?<br/>
<br/>
"It's an interesting phenomenon," he says as he straightens out the glasses. "I'm still more than a little perturbed at it all. I don't mean the, uh, accident I had at your place." A little red spot shows in his forehead. "I mean the, uh, delay in ... attaining with Philip the ... merger of mental states that you and ... and Danielle accomplished so instantly." He turns his gaze—and a deep, penetrating gaze it is, too—upon you. "I am wondering where the explanation lays. Is it an artifact of these masks, or of our, um, idiosyncratic psychologies?"<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops.<br/>
<br/>
"Pffftttt!" Philip can't stifle the giggle that shatters his very serious demeanor. "Oh God, would you listen to me?" he shrieks. "I sound like a flipping computer or something! I mean, oh my God!" He buries his head under his arms; his shoulders rock with suppressed laughter. His face is red and his eyes are streaming when raises his head again. "This is, like, the last person in the world I can picture myself being, but here I am!"<br/>
<br/>
Your voice, even your very breath, seems to have died during this performance, and not until Philip gives you a very merry look do you find it again. "Wow," you murmur. "Um ... So when did it all, uh, come to you? When did—?"<br/>
<br/>
"This morning. Or last night. Sometimes when I wasn't looking. I was getting, like, heavier flashes of things before I went to bed. And I remembered the password into his cell phone. You know like how you can't remember a name or something like that, no matter how you try, and then like a couple of hours later it'll just pop into your head? It was like that. I was all, like, suddenly, C-H-O-6126, and I thought, what the hell is that? Then I was like, oh yeah, that's the code to unlock his cell phone. Also—" He rolls his eyes. "It's a mixed-up version of the formula for glucose or something. Because of course. But anyway, when I woke up this morning—" <br/>
<br/>
His gaze goes distant, and his lips work soundlessly for a moment.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it was like there was two of me, inside me. And it was like one of them was trying push the other one out. And I wasn't sure ... " He trails off. "I wasn't sure who was doing the pushing and who was being pushed. What I mean is ... " His eyes, still locked in a thousand-yard stare, go very hard even as his voice goes very soft. "I didn't know which one I was. Was I the one pushing, or was I the one being pushed?"<br/>
<br/>
He falls silent, still staring. You watch him closely. His face is pale and freckle-free under a reddish-brown crew cut. His lips are rosy and his eyes are hazel with speckled shards of green in them. It occurs to you—or to the Danielle personality you are wearing—that without his glasses he is probably pretty good looking. Then ... Even with those heavy black frames, he's pretty good looking.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, at some point," he says, and the resumption of his story startles you after the silence. "Somehow, it was like the two of me pushed into each other. Like when you shuffle a deck, then push all the cards together into a neat stack?" He turns, and you see almost nothing of Chelsea in his expression—only the sober, introspective gaze of a science student trying to describe the outcome of a lab experiment. "And it's like I can shift back and forth between them. Or like they're all shuffled together, and I can pull out whichever set of ... of personality traits I need or want to use. I can be Philip ... " His eyelids quiver, then his mouth spreads out into a mischievous rictus and his eyes sparkle. "Or I can be <i>me!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Yeah, it's like that for me too."<br/>
<br/>
"Is it? Honestly, I don't feel like I know you enough, Will, or Danielle for that matter," he says in a girlishly confiding tone, "to tell which one you're being. Who are you right now?" His eyes shine.<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate. "I think I'm being myself. But, uh, Danielle's not exactly the <i>girliest</i> girl in school—"<br/>
<br/>
"She's got all the right parts," Philip says.<br/>
<br/>
The comment blows away every reservation you might have had. If Chelsea is going to be that blunt, you can be that blunt right back.<br/>
<br/>
"Does Philip have a crush on Danielle?"<br/>
<br/>
Philip stares at you. Then his eyes slowly widen, his hair bristles, and rose blooms flush in his cheeks. "Um ... "<br/>
<br/>
"You can tell me, Chelsea. It's okay. Carlos told me last night that Philip had a crush on her. And if you're really being him, I figure that you should know if—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay! Jesus!" He turns away, blushing furiously. "I wasn't going to say anything, 'cos I figure neither of us— And it's not like Danielle's the only one he's—" She squirms. "Christ. How do you guys <i>keep</i> this thing under control? Suddenly I understand why Gordon was all the way he was, and that's not something I ever thought I'd say."<br/>
<br/>
"Who else does Philip have a crush on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Only everybody, practically, if the kind of, you know, pictures I keep getting are anything to go by." She blinks, hard and rapidly. "Even when I'm trying to be, like, myself, I get these little explosions in my head. Like I'm having a freaking stroke, and inside each little explosion is a girl's face. Her shape, her body. Ungh!" She smacks herself in the temple. "Maybe it's a little better when I put on the whole Philip Fairfax act. Maybe <i>he's</i> got a better grip on things. Oh, Jesus, did I just use the word 'grip' there?" He sits up and straightens out his khakis, so that the bulge in their front will have a little more room to rise.<br/>
<br/>
"But he does have a crush on Danielle?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes! Why? Do you feel flattered now?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I mean, it doesn't really— That's not why I was asking. But come on, we need to get to class." As you say it, the alarm on your phone softly sounds—the famous opening measures from Beethoven's fifth symphony. "You want to get in character?" you ask Chelsea after you're out of the car and hitching your packs onto your backs.<br/>
<br/>
Philip blinks a couple of times, chews on his lower lip, then nods. "So I'll see you in second period," he says in a very neutral tone. "I'd offer to walk you to your locker, but I don't want to seem presumptuous."<br/>
<br/>
But maybe you want him to be presumptuous. If Philip Fairfax has a crush on you—and if that's semi-public knowledge—then it wouldn't be a shock if he and Danielle started going out.<br/>
<br/>
And it would put a stop to your worries about Jeremiah James or anyone else asking you out.</span></div></div>


path: 11312211211132
author_id: rugal
title: Chelsea's Petty Revenge
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Hey Samantha!" Chelsea exclaims in a cheery manner you don't think you've heard from her. "So this is who I was waiting on. You know Will, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Samantha Carpenter looks at you, her expression inquisitive but otherwise neutral. Quickly she shakes her head. "Can't say that I do," she says but stops and gives you a harder look as if she's caught on to something but just as quickly the look fades. "I mean maybe he looks a little familiar but..." she trails off with a shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"Well you're definitely going to know him soon," Chelsea replies and titters at her own little joke. "Actually, I think the both of you are going to get to know each other really well. In fact I'm hoping for it! Counting on it, even!"<br/>
<br/>
Samantha raises an eyebrow. "Uh huh," she says with skepticism. "Are you... you're not trying to set us up are you?"<br/>
<br/>
Immediately you feel your face turn red.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe I am," Chelsea answers coyly and you can already feel the sweats coming on. Fucking Chelsea, she should've joined up with the theater kids if she loves the dramatics so much. It's made even worse when she turns to you. "You brought that thing I told you to bring didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Thrown off guard you scramble to remove your bag, unzip and dig through it. There's the mask of yourself that you took from Caleb's as well as the blank you'd made up earlier and the sealant; you've already glued the band to the inside. There's also the tub of the new goop, made from your own hair, that you had to make so you could treat your mask; the rest, using Chelsea's hair, is up in the fuck room so you had no access to it.<br/>
<br/>
But you're happy, that means everything is here and ready to go.<br/>
<br/>
You pull out the blank and mull it over in your hands for a second before turning back to Samantha. Chelsea, at this point, has moved along to the bed and is sitting besides the now also seated Samantha. "So do you want this?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea can only look at you like you're an idiot. "Uh, no? Give it to her," Chelsea says.<br/>
<br/>
So nervously you hand the mask to Samantha who takes it and looks it over. "Thanks?" she asks as she eyes it and flips it over. "This is... for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's something that Will made," Chelsea says giving her most venomously sweet smile.<br/>
<br/>
"It's nice I guess," states Samantha; you can tell she's as uncomfortable as you are. Just what the hell is Chelsea doing anyway? Samantha then looks from the mask to you. "Are you in an art class or something?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, no," you answer nervously. "It was just, you know, something I did at home. Like a hobby."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh, well it looks good," she states as she hands the mask back to you before turning her attention back to Chelsea. "I appreciate what you're trying to do for your... friend? But I'm not really interested so I think I'm going to---"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait!" Chelsea insists. She looks at you and you can see an amused look on her face. She is one hundred percent doing this on purpose. "Will, I want you to take a seat next to Samantha."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
Samantha and you say it in unison though the tones are different; where you are more panicked in your response Samantha shows a cool disbelief. Maybe it's because of that disbelief that you don't even think and instead just do as Chelsea says. You feel very hot and you can feel the sweat on your forehead as you sit down on the bed. You want to fall into a hole.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my god," you mutter under breath and then a little louder so that only Samantha will be able to make it out you add, "I'm so fucking sorry."<br/>
<br/>
You feel completely embarrassed, humiliated even. Samantha might not know you but you know that, aside from the library this morning, the two of you have the same class in fourth period. If she didn't recognize you from there she'll sure hell remember you now which means you're going to be the butt of ridicule. Or you would if you didn't have this mask. Frustrated, you decide that you've had enough of Chelsea toying with you and that you just need to get it over with.<br/>
<br/>
Without thinking and before Samantha can react you take the mask and shove it onto her face. Samantha falls backwards, her breathing shallow and her eyes open, as it sinks into her. At the same time you can hear Chelsea's own giggling. That just irritates you even further.<br/>
<br/>
"What the hell?!" you explode on her. "You were doing that on purpose weren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
For her part it's a full minute before Chelsea's laughing fit ends and she's able to compose herself. "Oh my god, that was so funny!" she exclaims in probably the most joyous tone you've heard from her yet.<br/>
<br/>
"For you maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"I was just messing with you, Will," she says still fighting down her own laughter. "I just wanted to get back at you a little. You kind of threw my plans out the window because you wanted, well..." Her eyes dart from you to Samantha. "So <i>do</i> you like her or something? Because she's really random."<br/>
<br/>
You're still hot, more physically than emotionally however, so all you can do is shake your head. "I just threw a name out there. I've got her for fourth but I don't know her," you admit. "I just kind of thought that, um, it might be weird if you started suddenly hanging out with Yumi or Cindy considering..."<br/>
<br/>
"That's true," Chelsea states with a thoughtful look. "I guess I was just so excited to jump in. But I should probably be a little more careful. Get some eyes and ears in there first or something." She then looks at you more pleasantly. "But I think this girl's on the basketball team. I don't really have any connections there so <i>you</i> get to be my eyes and ears there! Isn't that great?"<br/>
<br/>
That gives you pause. The basketball team? Well that makes sense you suppose: you always see her hanging around Kristy Suffolk -- who you know is on the team -- in fourth. Shows how much you pay attention to the school's non-cheerleader teams.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh well, anyway grab her feet Will. We need to get her into the bathroom so you can get changed."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
In the bathroom and with an intense amount of trepidation you begin peeling off the layers of Samantha's clothing. First comes the windbreaker, something for the basketball team you figure because it's red and gold (the school's colors) and embroidered on the chest is S. CARPENTER. Almost paradoxically though, the clothes she wears aren't necessarily what you'd expect to find for mid-autumn.<br/>
<br/>
First is a tight short-sleeved shirt. One that hugs very nicely to a chest that, while not exactly big, is certainly big enough. Below that are a pair of shorts that do a lot to show off Samantha's long, and surprisingly strong -- if kind of skinny -- looking legs. With a deep breath you slowly, carefully, begin to remove the shirt. Maneuvering an unconscious person's arms out of one is surprisingly frustrating but you're eventually able to do it.<br/>
<br/>
Next is the tennis shoes and socks and finally the shorts down those long legs. You're left with a girl who, you can tell, is tall and somewhat lanky but who must just be naturally a little skinny because there's still definition on her arms, her legs and stomach.<br/>
<br/>
A little impatiently you wait a few more minutes before the mask finally comes out of her. Quickly you scoop it up, grab your own treated mask and throw it onto her. What you're left with is the bizarre and frankly disturbing visual of yourself in Samantha's underwear.<br/>
<br/>
"Kinky," your double says as he picks at the bra.<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh, just get out them," you say as you begin divesting your own clothes. Once they're off and you've seen that your doppelganger is in his birthday suit as well you shove them them at him. "Put 'em on," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure," he says as he grabs the underwear first. "So what's up? Where are we?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gimme a minute. I just need you to fill in for me and not ask any questions," you tell him. "Actually once you're out of here just keep away from me unless I initiate it. It'll be easier that way and a lot more normal."<br/>
<br/>
As he dresses and you seal the mask you talk to him. You kick yourself when you realize that he's a bit behind the times because the mask has been stashed at Caleb's for weeks; you make sure to bring him up to speed. You're relieved to find out that he does have to listen to you and follow your commands. Since everything seems to be in order you tell him to get going once he's finished dressing.<br/>
<br/>
"You're at Chelsea Cooper's," you say and blow past him before he can respond. "Just tell her that Will's getting ready and will be out when he can, then go home."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, okay," he says clearly confused. But once everything's on he does as you say and is out of the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
You look the door behind him and pile up Samantha's clothes. From the sink you grab the mask. In it you can faintly make out features that you vaguely recognize as her own. Flipping it over reveals, in blue, a name where the band glued into the mask is.<br/>
<br/>
<i>SAMANTHA MAE CARPENTER</i><br/>
<br/>
With a deep breath you take a seat on the floor against the wall and put the mask to your face. Samantha Mae Carpenter; that's the name burned onto the band and from here on out, for how long you're not sure, it'll be your name as well.</span></div></div>


path: 113122112111321
author_id: rugal
title: The Well-Connected Girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your head is swimming as consciousness comes back to you. The tile you're sitting on is cold against your... bare skin? That jolts you from drowsy to fully awake. Where are you and why the hell are you naked? The last thing you can remember is sitting in Chelsea's room as she was trying to set you up with... you don't remember his name but you've seen him around in fourth period; that's why he looked familiar.<br/>
<br/>
You'd only come over in the first place because she'd said something about getting the cheerleaders to support the girl's basketball team a little more and you were hoping you could turn that into a little help with... all of that. Instead she Shanghaied you into trying to get with that boy.<br/>
<br/>
Not like you were interested but he was so nervous, so fidgety that you couldn't help but feel a little bad for him; Chelsea was clearly taking him for a ride. Part of you wants to know what her game is, how she even knows this kid (because he may be a senior but everything about him just screams immature) but for the most part you don't particularly care. Things have started draining you mentally and you don't need to add being caught up in some scheme of Chelsea's to your plate.<br/>
<br/>
As he sat there muttering and fidgeting he took that ceramic whatever it was and thrust it at you; that's when everything went black.<br/>
<br/>
And that's how you woke up here you realize as you regain yourself and bring yourself to your feet. Here not just in Chelsea Cooper's bathroom but in...<br/>
<br/>
You move hair, long and golden and loosely curled, out of your view as you take a look at girl whose body and life you're now occupying. It's a face that's very traditionally pretty. Not striking in the way a Cindy Vredenburg is but if you had to picture the prototypical All-American girl Samantha Carpenter would be it. You give yourself a smile and you like how it seems to brighten the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
From there you look down at pear-shaped breasts that are a little larger than you'd expect given the frame that they rest on and you resist the temptation to touch and massage them; there will be plenty of time for that later. Instead you ponder the fact that Samantha Carpenter, though on the taller side of things, has a lithe build that seems like it belongs more to a runner than a basketball player.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well duh,</i> comes another voice from the back of your head that's more like a lightbulb. Yes, it's a runner's build because throughout freshman and sophomore years she was on the track team. She loved it, loved pushing herself. But she'd also been on the JV basketball team in sophomore year and when the varsity team needed members the next year... Plus her friends said it'd be a good idea since Catherine Muskov had come over from Eastman.<br/>
<br/>
That's not to say that Samantha doesn't enjoy playing on the basketball team or holds ill will towards Catherine; in fact the two are good friends and Samantha's a frequent presence at Catherine's frequent parties. But she does miss being part of the old team so she makes sure to get up early for a two mile run every morning, as much for nostalgia as to keep in shape.<br/>
<br/>
Although lately...<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ugh, no! I can't let that stuff drag me down,</i> that little voice says once more.<br/>
<br/>
Right, best not to dwell on anything right now. Samantha's got places to be, places that'll put her in a better headspace. So as quickly as you can you get dressed: on goes the underwear, the shorts, the shirt, the socks and shoes and finally the windbreaker. You give yourself a quick glance to make sure everything is in place and, satisfied, you decide to pay your respects to Chelsea before heading out.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that you?" Chelsea asks with excitement once you've made your way back into her room. "Oh my god I just saw your, uh, thing! You know, the robot you or whatever? So it worked?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's me in here," you answer.<br/>
<br/>
At that Chelsea lets out a squeal of delight and it makes you (well, the part of you that's Samantha) want to laugh; who could've thought that Chelsea Cooper could come off like an excited little girl?<br/>
<br/>
Instead you regard her with Samantha's own neutral demeanor towards her. Samantha doesn't really have the same ill will towards Chelsea that a lot of her peers, even ones on the basketball team, have. That's not to say she <i>likes</i> Chelsea per se, just that she knows that everyone is playing a game of some kind and if it wasn't Chelsea then it'd be Kendra or Cindy or Kelsey or...<br/>
<br/>
But Chelsea doesn't bother her so why should she get worked up? She's got her own network of friends that would in no way be affected by Chelsea anyway so she's not really a concern. And if Chelsea wants to get on her good side, be friendly with her? Well there's worse people to have on your side. It might piss off some people but then there's just as many that'd be pissed if Samantha was on the other side.<br/>
<br/>
It's all such a pain in the ass.<br/>
<br/>
"This is actually totally exciting!" Chelsea beams. "The basketball team has been such a blind spot but now..." At that she can hardly contain herself.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'll be your mole," you tell her though you're unable to come close to matching her own enthusiasm. "I can't really start dishing right now though. I have to sift through everything first, really get used to playing her. We can meet up," you pause, "I was going to say lunch but I think she's got fifth."<br/>
<br/>
"I can skip fifth, it's some bullshit class," Chelsea says waving off your concern. "You'll have everything by then though? Because I'm going to want an overview on how things stand with the team first so I can figure out what we do there."<br/>
<br/>
"While you work on the squad?" you ask coolly.<br/>
<br/>
"Right! We've already got, what's his name, but he's not useful or anything so I'll need to test the mask on..." she trails off for a moment, thinking, and then her face lights up. "I'll have it for you then! Isn't that going to be exciting?!"<br/>
<br/>
So Chelsea's going to show off her... prize, you'd guess? You hate thinking of another person like that but with the way Chelsea's acting... "Sure," you reply simply, "but I've gotta get home. Acclimate and everything, you know? I've made out at least enough to do that but," you pause. Should you give Chelsea this bit of information? Well, what's the point in holding out? You're already all in anyway.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll have to really get it mapped but Samantha knows a lot of people," you tell her. "She's friends with Catherine Muskov and has, well, a lot of connections. I should have it all for you by lunch tomorrow though, so..."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea doesn't say anything. The look she has as you gather your stuff up says it all.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Sam! We were waiting for you!" calls out a brown-haired girl as she bounces a basketball in her driveway.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," you reply as you catch the ball she tosses towards you. "Chelsea wanted to talk and I kind of got caught up there."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea? As in Cooper?" Another girl, a more serious-faced blonde asks.<br/>
<br/>
"What does the Terror of Westside want with you?" It's another blonde this time, similar in appearance to the first but not quite.<br/>
<br/>
All you can really do at that is shrug which leads to groans of disappointments. "You have to have something!" exclaims another girl with honey-colored hair. "Is she as bad as the stories say?"<br/>
<br/>
"Couldn't tell you," you answer as you take a shot. "I try to keep out of that stuff, remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"I swear, you are <i>so</i> out of place there," says the honey-haired girl. "You and Catherine both."<br/>
<br/>
"How <i>is</i> Catherine holding up anyway?" asks the brunette.<br/>
<br/>
"She's not on Chelsea's bad side if that's what you mean," say as you watch the other two blondes engage in a little offense-defense maneuver. "You know her parties aren't Westside only right? It's pretty much an open invite for whoever wants to come."<br/>
<br/>
"Probably less dangerous than the Warehouse too," the brunette girl states. "But, ugh, I'd feel so out of place I don't know anyone from over there, really, except for you."<br/>
<br/>
"My ex goes to Westside," the perkier of the two blondes interjects. "I say we do it. Is Catherine having a party this weekend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do fish swim?" you ask and that causes the five of you to laugh. "Look, just come out. Her parties are fun, no pressure or anything. It'll be cool."<br/>
<br/>
If it wasn't for the presence of Samantha Carpenter there really wouldn't be much that's out of place about the group. After all, the five of them have all grown up together in this neighborhood, played on many teams together, have held many sleepovers at each others' houses, all the normal stuff. This group -- Samantha, Monica Bratt, Amber Duckett and the non-identical twins Ashley and Penny Stricker -- are as close as any group of friends that's grown up together can be.<br/>
<br/>
The only thing that separates them is school: Samantha goes to Westside and the others are Eastman students. Samantha probably would've gone to Eastman as well but the track team at Westside was rebuilding meaning she'd easily got a slot there whereas Eastman's was all full up.<br/>
<br/>
Of course jokes about Samantha being a "daywalker" aside something as dumb as what school you attend shouldn't really matter much in the long run, school pride aside, but at times it does feel like there's a gulf between them as much as there's a gulf between the disparate groups at Westside. It's stupid that the four of them should feel weird about going to a Westside party just as it's dumb that some on the basketball team...<br/>
<br/>
<i>Nope, not now,</i> says the voice again. There'll be time to worry about that tomorrow but for now you just want to enjoy a nice evening with your friends.</span></div></div>


