# chapters

path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322411
author_id: seuzz
title: Leaving as Lindsay
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wake feeling like there's an anvil sitting on your face, and your limbs are very heavy. <i>Just a few more minutes of sleep,</i> you think. <i>Then I'll get up and get moving.</i> Vaguely you wonder what day it is.<br/>
<br/>
It's the fucking middle of the week, you know that much. You've got to get through how many days till the weekend? Basically, how many days of Speech class with freaking Laura Serrano smirking at you and whispering to Matthew Adams about your posture? The bruise from the last Speech class, when Laura pitched a fit about you getting put onto her practice team, still hurts. <i>What day was that? Wednesday?</i><br/>
<br/>
You roll onto your side with a groan, then freeze when you're seized by what can only be called an "out of body" experience. Your limbs feel all wrong, and when you tentatively stretch an arm it feels like you should be able to touch the ceiling with your fingertips. You squint sideways at it. It's is very long and bony. And yet it is unmistakably yours ...<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh God!</i> You lurch up into a sitting position, and gouge at your eyes with the heels of your hand. <i>Fuck!</i> <br/>
<br/>
You've got Lindsay Cho in your head, and she's more than a little freaked out at being in your body. At least you're still dressed. She would probably start screaming if you looked down and saw your hairy sausage between your hairy legs.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Steady on, dude,</i> you tell yourself through gritted teeth. <i>You just need to finish off the transformation and then things will be alright. The sooner I'm totally her, the easier it'll be to handle her. Remember what it was like with Dwayne.</i><br/>
<br/>
Yeah. Like that was a lot of fun. With a sense of loathing you reach for Lindsay's mask and the sealant.<br/>
<br/>
You're interrupted by a soft knock at the door, and you grimace back at Caleb as he slides inside. "Everything okay out there?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He puts a finger to his lips. "Not really. Dane's mom is home for the night. She's, uh, gonna be wondering what it's all about when Lindsay comes out of her son's bedroom."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck." It's two of you cursing, for Lindsay is just as revolted by the implication as you. "I guess I could go out through a window."<br/>
<br/>
"How much longer are you gonna be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just need to finish this thing. And now it's done." You lay the brush aside and glare at the mask. "Just need to put it on now."<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna get out of your clothes first?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess. Jesus, I'm not looking forward to this."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you you wouldn't."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you first," you retort as you unbuckle your pants.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At least you're prepared for it the second time you wake, and it's not a shock when you sit up and feel yourself pulled down by a couple of baggy weights attached to your chest. Nor are you horrified out of your mind by the stubby legs and feet that you see when you look down at yourself. Still, half of you isn't happy about being stuck in Lindsay Cho's body; and the other half isn't real happy that there's an alien personality stuck inside your body with you.<br/>
<br/>
It takes a moment for you to figure out which one of you feels like it's being invaded and violated.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Okay, look, we're just going to have to live with each other as if we </i>are<i> each other,</i> you tell your two halves as you pull on panties and scramble for a bra. <i>When I'm not with your friends, Lindsay, you're just going to be quiet and let me live in your body and do your thinking for you. Like, what the fuck are we gonna do with Caleb?</i> You hook your bra together, slip it front to front, and tuck your boobs into the cups.<br/>
<br/>
<i>And when I'm with your friends I'll be you, but I'm gonna have to keep you on a tight rein and—</i><br/>
<br/>
You almost fall over as a jolt runs through your body. It's like there's been an earthquake, and things have slipped inside your head.<br/>
<br/>
Except it's more like things have <i>slid together.</i><br/>
<br/>
You blink as you realize that that feeling of warring personalities is gone. Oh, you still feel Lindsay, but she's trapped and powerless inside you. Or is it that you are inside her? You feel the shape of her mind, her memories, and her personality. But it's like a suit of clothes, shaped to your body and will. Only it's her mind that you're wearing over yours, just like you're wearing her body.<br/>
<br/>
Lindsay's mind is now just another mask, one inside you.<br/>
<br/>
But speaking of clothes and bodies ...<br/>
<br/>
You hurriedly finish dressing, pulling on the jeans and the t-shirt, hiking the denim jacket over your shoulders, shoving your bare feet into the sneakers, and tucking your long hair under the trucker cap. From the jacket pocket you pull Lindsay's cell phone—<br/>
<br/>
A little ripple runs through you as you think <i>This is </i>my<i> cell phone. It's my phone and it's always been my cell phone.</i><br/>
<br/>
—and check yourself out in the camera. <br/>
<br/>
Heavy of face and lid and expression, Lindsay Cho scowls back at you. The expression feels totally natural—"resting bitch face," you suppose—and you wince at your smile when you try one out. <i>Jesus,</i> you sigh. <i>This is who I am and what I'm in for, but I knew it going in.</i> You put the phone away.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Okay, now to get out of here.</i> You clamber atop Dane's messy desk and push at one of the windows. It refuses to budge. You play with the lock, and it still won't move. You try the other window. This one slides up with a protesting squeal, but there's a screen between you and the open air.<br/>
<br/>
"Will?" a voice hisses from just outside.<br/>
<br/>
"No, Jennifer Lawrence," you snark back. "How do you get these dumb screens down?"<br/>
<br/>
"There should be some plastic tabs that you pull."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like—"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind, I got them. Ow!" The tab slips from between your fingers as you yank at it. "Son of a bitch."<br/>
<br/>
"You sure got comfortable with being Lindsay in a hurry."<br/>
<br/>
"Bite me, man." You wrestle the screen out of the grooves, and Caleb takes it from you. "Help me out," you say as you swing a leg over the windowsill.<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna put the light out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up." You loft yourself into space before adding, "Catch me." He does catch you, but it's with his face, and you both tumble to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, let's get out of here," you exclaim as you scramble up, and beat a retreat out the front yard and to Caleb's car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what's the plan?" Caleb asks on the drive back to the Cho residence. "Or do you even have a plan? You're not planning to be this girl for the rest of your life, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! How long are Justin and them planning to be other people?"<br/>
<br/>
"Haven't you talked about it with them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Haven't <i>you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't get all bitchy with me, Will. This all was mostly your idea, remember?"<br/>
<br/>
You cluck your tongue and look away with a scowl. But Caleb's right, you need to be less bitchy. So you turn face forward again, uncross your legs, uncross your arms, sit up straight—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Wow, there's a lot of body language that goes into being "bitchy,"</i> you realize with a start.<br/>
<br/>
—and announce as pleasantly as you can, "I'm not going to spend one more fucking minute as Lindsay Cho than I fucking have to."<br/>
<br/>
"I figured that," Caleb retorts, "but how long is that?"<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "Until I'm pretty sure Justin and them aren't going to fuck things up. Until I'm fucking sure that Lindsay isn't going to look at them and think, <i>Fucking fakes.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." Caleb's tone is very dry. "So, sometime between tomorrow and five presidential elections from now."<br/>
<br/>
"You know, if you're not part of the fucking solution, man, you're part of the fucking problem." You cross your arms again, then force yourself to uncross them.<br/>
<br/>
"It's kind of fun setting you off this way," he chortles. "This is what it was like dealing with Lindsay while you were out of town."<br/>
<br/>
You give him a sidelong glare, and this time you don't stop yourself from slumping in your seat. "You know, it's gonna be hard for us to hang out."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm all busted up inside at the thought."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you should tell the guys that you want a new face so that you can hang out me and keep an eye on me."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean to keep an eye on <i>Lindsay?</i>" He casts you a wary glance. "Just because you've made yourself miserable, man, doesn't mean you gotta try making <i>me</i> miserable too."<br/>
<br/>
"I won't make you miserable. Lindsay's got friends. There's Paulina and Melanie and Evie, you know. I'm only—" You catch and correct yourself. "Lindsay's only a bitch and a cunt to you and me on account of the trouble we got up to with her friends. And at least <i>you</i> weren't in on it the way, uh, I was."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb casts a couple of more glances at you. "That's the inside scoop from Lindsay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess." Your words have actually surprised you. But they sound and feel natural, so you suppose it's something Lindsay would say. But it's your own sense of mischief acting when you add, "And if you asked me to go out with you, I'd totally say yes."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb almost sends the car careening into the oncoming traffic. "Don't even joke about that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I thought it was funny." And yet, now that you've said it, you wonder if Lindsay <i>wouldn't</i> be receptive to Caleb. He is a senior, after all.<br/>
<br/>
But <i>you're</i> not interested in him. "But in all seriousness," you tell him—</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224112
author_id: seuzz
title: Can't Everyone Be Friends?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I thought that's how come you put yourself in Lindsay's place!" Caleb exclaims. "To help manage those guys!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, by keeping Lindsay under control!" you retort. "But, y' know, you can help too by hanging out close to them. Keep an ear to the ground with them. That's all I'm asking. You weren't just gonna brush them off, were you?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're sophomores, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a snob, cocksucker. I'm a sophomore too now, you know. Now. Oh, Jesus." You cover your face.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb snickers. "That's right."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you were gonna wanna hang out and watch anyway. For science's sake, if nothing else. Remember how hot you all were to see how the masks work? Well, now you get to watch close up and personal."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. "It's gonna be awkward, man."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like you're Mr. Popularity up in the senior class. And if you really think it's gonna be awkward, talk to Bhodi and Joe and them about setting you up with an alias down in the sophomore class with them. With <i>us.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What, what?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's the way to do it. Obviously."<br/>
<br/>
"By turning myself into—?"<br/>
<br/>
"What else are you gonna do with your life? Besides— Yeah, your and mine sophomore year sucked, but that's because it was <i>us</i> and we had a bunch of assholes in our year. And we <i>still</i> got the same bunch of assholes in it, and you're still stuck with them. So come back me and try it again, try to do it right this time."<br/>
<br/>
"Will," Caleb groans, "I've grown to be really skeptical about these masks and whether they're a good idea."<br/>
<br/>
"Which must be how come you're helping the rest of us with them," you retort. <br/>
<br/>
He's silent for the rest of the drive, and when he lets you out he only says that he'll talk to you later.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm home," you holler as you come in via the kitchen door. You're halfway across the living room before a glower from Lindsay's mom reminds you that you're not supposed to go "stomping around the house like an elephant." You lower your head and mumble that you'll be in your room.<br/>
<br/>
You throw yourself onto the bed after you've shut the door, and glance around. Lindsay's bedroom is, of course, instantly familiar to you. The green-and-white wallpaper. The shelves lined with family photos and plushie cats and dogs. The vanity table with the mirror, which you make a troll-face into.<br/>
<br/>
But only the small bookshelf stuffed with science-fiction paperbacks and TBPs of comic books was picked out by Lindsay herself. The rest of it—even the laptop—consists of hand-me-downs from Hannah, Lindsay's <i>perfect older sister.</i><br/>
<br/>
Who now works at Westside, where she teaches freshman English. Thank God she only started this year, and you didn't have to go through the humiliation of taking English with your friends from your <i>perfect older sister.</i><br/>
<br/>
You whip off the trucker hat, fluff out your hair, and jam the hat back on. With a cooler, more reflective eye than Lindsay herself could manage, you briefly survey the problem of "Lindsay Cho and Her Perfect Older Sister," and conclude (without a lot interest in the solution) that Lindsay's problem is more with their mom—who constantly holds the stylish, popular, and well-educated Hannah up as a model to be emulated—than the sister herself, who is always kind and thoughtful.<br/>
<br/>
You snort. If only <i>You should be kind and thoughtful like your sister</i> wasn't another of Mother Cho's precepts.<br/>
<br/>
Your homework is done at least, and you're listlessly studying the bookshelf for something that would appeal to you and Lindsay both when your phone dings. You dig out and tense at the text from Evie: <i>u done yet?</i> Meaning, is Lindsay is done with her meeting with Caleb Johansson and Will Prescott. <i>yes,</i> you reply.<br/>
<br/>
<i>were u polite?</i><br/>
<br/>
With Lindsay's face you scowl; with your own mind you leap and skitter nervously. Evie has been sticking up for you every time that Lindsay has snarled about you, to the point that Lindsay has nearly given up even talking about you. You would love to text back something like, <i>Yes, and now I understand why you like Will, I've decided he's wonderful too and we should all be friends.</i> But even leaving aside that a text like that would sound sarcastic, it wouldn't at all reflect how Lindsay feels.<br/>
<br/>
So you text back: <i>yes i was sunshine and lollipops.</i><br/>
<br/>
Messaging dots play for a long time before Evie's reply comes through, and the brevity of her reply tells you that she rewrote it a couple of times before sending it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>it's all over now can we all be friends?</i><br/>
<br/>
You're almost wrenched in twain by two very strong responses: to happily accede to her suggestion, and to tell her that you'll <i>never</i> be friends with the kind of cocksuckers who did what they did.<br/>
<br/>
So you try threading a middle course: <i>hes pretending to b a stoner. that stoner he turned u into. can u b friends with that?</i> You add a moment later: <i>u can try good luck lol but i cant.</i> Then: <i>sorry evie even if i try its hard to b friends at school with person hes pretending to be.</i><br/>
<br/>
Evie doesn't reply. Half an hour later you understand why when a text comes from Paulina. You hurl aside the <i>Spider-Man</i> TPB you were reading with a soft cuss word as you read Paulina's text: <i>Evie says u r washing hands of will and Caleb. R u totally done with them?<br/>
<br/>
yes,</i> you reply. Then add: <i>we not friends before why friends now?</i> And: <i>nothing personal.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing personal bs lol,</i> Paulina shoots back. <i>What about rest of us? Ok if we friends with them?</i><br/>
<br/>
You can only suppose that's Bhodi's influence there. You of course know what's going on with them, but Lindsay wouldn't, so you have to be careful what you say. You grit your teeth as you navigate the minefield. Pretending to be Lindsay in order to protect the guys is going to be harder than you thought.<br/>
<br/>
In a rapid series of one sentence bursts, you text Paulina: <i>ok by me. be friends with anyone u want. i will be polite. but dont make me hang out wit them. u know wills that dane guy now so b hard to b with him.</i> Then after a pause during which Paulina doesn't even type, you ask, <i>is evie mad at me?<br/>
<br/>
No she is not mad,</i> Paulina texts. <i>Just do not make it hard for her.<br/>
<br/>
hard how,</i> you text back with trembling fingers.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Talk tomorrow,</i> Paulina says after another long pause. You wonder if she's juggling multiple threads, and almost text Melanie to see if she's the third or even fourth corner in this conversation.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't, and instead hurl the phone aside and hop around the bedroom in frustration. You put yourself inside Lindsay Cho's body in order to be close to the sophomores, including Evie. But it sounds like Evie is drawing away from Lindsay on account of Lindsay's hostility to you—a hostility that you had vaguely hoped to manage from Lindsay's end of things. It would ironic and horrible if you took over as Lindsay Cho right as Lindsay's friendships were fraying.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Are you going to any parties this weekend?" Hannah asks on the drive out to school the next day. She always stops by and picks Lindsay up, and though it's not the worst part of the day for Lindsay, you keep in character by slumping in the front seat with your cell phone at your nose all during the trip.<br/>
<br/>
The question makes you tense. "I dunno. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just curious." A pause. "Mom says you've been spending a lot of time with your friends lately."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that a problem?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," Hannah says softly. She says everything softly. Perfect Older Sister never has to raise her voice. "I don't think it's a problem." Another pause. "I always showed mom my homework when I got it back, so she never thought I was spending <i>too much</i> time with friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's hard to show her my <i>acting</i> homework," you retort. "I don't even have lines to memorize, it's all just—"<br/>
<br/>
"You've got other classes," Hannah gently reminds you. She glances over her shoulder and changes lanes. Her lips twitch into a faint smile. "Think of her as something that needs to be <i>managed,</i> Lindsay. Or outsmarted."<br/>
<br/>
And this is another reason to resent Perfect Older Sister. She wasn't actually Perfect. She just knew how to how to keep her mother from peeking behind the curtain.<br/>
<br/>
You quickly abandon her once you're parked in the teacher's lot, and hustle into the library, where you crane your neck, looking for your friends, and spot Paulina and Bhodi in a corner. They are sitting very close together, which warms both your real personality and your feigned one, even if Lindsay is still a little chagrined that it was something <i>awful</i> that finally pulled them together.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, morning," you sigh as you drop a backpack that's heavy as two sacks of cement onto the table. "God, you wouldn't believe the freaking conversation I just had with my sister." You describe it after falling into a chair.<br/>
<br/>
But Paulina can't resist giggling. "So she's saying you have to train your tiger mom. Buy a whip."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. But I'm definitely hitting any parties that are happening this weekend." You look between them. "You know of any?"<br/>
<br/>
She and Bhodi also exchange a glance. A grin spreads across his face, and he sits back with a shrug.<br/>
<br/>
Paulina gives you a look. "I was gonna suggest basically a slumber party, but there's this party that Bhodi wants me to go to."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Laura Serrano's place."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck. Lindsay's least favorite person in the whole wide world.</i></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132241121
author_id: rugal
title: Slumber Party Switch-Up
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Laura Serrano. Laura <i>fucking</i> Serrano. Of all people it has to be <i>her</i>? You can feel the disgust immediately begin to boil and bubble within you: Lindsay would sooner ingest razors and cyanide than spend even five minutes with the stuck up and two-faced Queen of All Cunts. Lindsay and Laura had gotten along once upon a time but like any good -- that is non-Disneyfied -- fairy tale that story ended in much bitterness with the heroine left in a more miserable place.<br/>
<br/>
So Little Miss Kelsey Wannabe can have her fancy party but it's one that Lindsay, and thus you, want nothing to do with. You don't even have to say a word. You merely glare and scowl at Paulina for even suggesting the idea and you quickly see her wilt.<br/>
<br/>
"A slumber party sounds good," you say in response to Paulina's mention of the party's location. "After all of this stupid shit with that book and that Prescott doofus," you want to wince at having to slight yourself like that, "it'll be good to hang out again. Who's place though? You know my mom would never let us have it there."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," Paulina answers. "If it was just the four of us then my parents probably wouldn't mind but I kind of want to do something bigger."<br/>
<br/>
"Four of us?" asks Bhodi.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," Paulina says as she tightly clasps his hand to try and dampen his disappointment, "but this would be a girls only thing."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by 'just' the four of us? How many people were you wanting to invite?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, how many?" comes Grant's voice as he pulls into a seat next to you. "Wait, what are we talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"None of your business," you say to him while making a face.<br/>
<br/>
"What's none of our business?" asks Evie this time falling in by Paulina. She's followed closely by Joe, Justin and Andy.<br/>
<br/>
You huff and roll your eyes at that. "It's not something that's none of <i>your</i> business, Evie," you say."It's just nothing that these chucklefucks need to know about."<br/>
<br/>
"I already know about it!" Bhodi chimes in pridefully but you turn Lindsay's usual expression towards him now.<br/>
<br/>
"And you'll keep it to yourself if you know what's good for you," you growl. "Come on," you say to Paulina and Evie as you stand up, "I don't like how this has turned into a <i>public</i> library."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You lead the other two over to a quiet spot clear on the other side of the library. <i>Good,</i> your Lindsay-brain thinks, <i>let them stew</i>. Once you're settled in you turn your attention back to Paulina and press her again about what she meant by that "just the four of us" line. "You mean it wouldn't be just you, me, Evie and Melanie?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What's this all about?" asks Evie.<br/>
<br/>
"Paulina wants to throw a slumber party..."<br/>
<br/>
"Tonight," Paulina jumps in when you trail off. "Just a get together."<br/>
<br/>
"But with more people than just us," you respond. "That's what you meant by that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sure, I guess. If we can get a few more people to come."<br/>
<br/>
"Like who?"<br/>
<br/>
You hold Paulina's eye and Paulina holds yours. Both girls, you realize, very strong willed which is why they have a tendency to clash despite being close friends. But Paulina concedes just a little bit. "Maybe Jordan? Kaitlyn?" she says with uncertainty. "I don't know, a few others too? I just thought of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Kaitlyn? You mean Page?" you ask and that feeling returns to the pit of your stomach for Kaitlyn Page is one of Laura's pals.<br/>
<br/>
"No, Fowler," Paulina quickly answers.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, pfft!" you say dismissively. "You think she'd actually come either?" Kaitlyn Fowler, being a girl of rising popularity in the sophomore class, has naturally earned at a minimum skeptical dismissal from Lindsay.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe, I dunno. But she's not bad I guess. Not like... well, you know who."<br/>
<br/>
Lindsay's mind tells you that you don't even have to guess to know that for Paulina it's referring to Madison Crawford, <i>her</i> Laura Serrano at least insomuch as someone she actively despises.<br/>
<br/>
"But I'll invite a couple of people and," she looks thoughtful, "you and Evie can each invite people too. Not too many but--"<br/>
<br/>
"Hold up! That's a probably going to be a lot of people and we already know mine and your parents won't allow it," you say to Paulina before turning your attention to Evie. "Would your parents be fine with, I don't know, ten people for a slumber party?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably not that many," Evie answers but she seems struck by inspiration. "Melanie's would though. They're pretty hands off with her."<br/>
<br/>
"So we can just talk to her after school," says Paulina, "or maybe you can text her today and tell her if she's fine with that."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I can do that," replies Evie.<br/>
<br/>
"You think this could be done tonight? It'd be organizing everything on short notice," you tell the both of them. "We should probably get everything organized today and then actually do it tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
Paulina looks at you but quickly acquiesces. "Yeah, that's probably better. It gives me some time to really think." She then looks from you to Evie. "It gives all of us time to think, actually. About who to invite I mean."<br/>
<br/>
From there the talk of the slumber party dies out as the three of you talk about other things.<br/>
<br/>
The bell rings not that long afterwards and Paulina reminds you and Evie to think about who to invite for the slumber party tomorrow. You head off  to Lindsay's first period class as sense of unease at Paulina's slumber party idea begins to form.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>invited jordan in 3rd n she agreed<br/>
thats 1 u dont need to worry about</i><br/>
<br/>
You shoot the text off to Paulina whose response is quick and simple: <i>awesum!!!!</i> Almost immediately, however, she then follows it up with another text. <i>u wanna invite sum1 else?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>i'm good,</i> you respond.<br/>
<br/>
<i>ok. i nvite kaitlyn n charisma.<br/>
evie talked athena<br/>
melanie said its cool for her place if she can invite eastman friends.<br/>
<br/>
who?<br/>
<br/>
ella &amp; jenna? said there her besties @ eastman.<br/>
<br/>
u thinks thats 2 many<br/>
<br/>
idk but its mel's house. maybe more not so bad?</i><br/>
<br/>
The conversation ends after that so you turn off the screen and hand the phone back to Lindsay. "This is a stupid plan, you know," she scolds you.<br/>
<br/>
You'd talked to Jordan Ballard -- one of the girls that Paulina had mentioned wanting to invite -- in third period class her and Lindsay share. Lindsay and Jordan are friends per se (but Jordan's a friendly enough girl) so you'd felt nervous asking her to meet up with you before leaving school saying you wanted to talk to her about a get together you and some friends were planning for tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
She seemed open to the idea ("Otherwise Laura's would be my weekend party," she'd said while gagging) so you met up with her in the parking lot getting a ride out to the community center with the excuse it'd be held in a little secret area there that you wanted to show her in an attempt to pique her curiosity. The basement door was unlocked and you'd led her down where, when she reached the bottom, Caleb had hit her with a mask.<br/>
<br/>
It wasn't long before you'd traded Lindsay's doughy body and flat, dark hair for Jordan's slimmer one and striking, fiery red hair. Her unfashionable denim jacket for a pink and white windbreaker that Jordan makes work. The three of you had then piled into Caleb's car and were now in front of Lindsay's.<br/>
<br/>
"It's going to be fine," you say as you practically shove her out. "Just get back inside and tell me if anything happens between now and tomorrow evening."<br/>
<br/>
You watch as she begrudgingly heads inside and then you and Caleb begin the drive back to grab Jordan's -- your -- car.<br/>
<br/>
"I think she's right," Caleb says. "You probably should've just stayed under her mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Would <i>you</i> want to wear her face?" you shoot back. "Besides, this whole thing feels off."<br/>
<br/>
"How so?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because Paulina typically isn't the type of girl to want to suddenly have a slumber party," you tell him. "Some of the girls she'd mentioned too... like I don't think she necessarily likes or even talks to Kaitlyn Fowler all that much so why invite her?"<br/>
<br/>
"You think something's going on?" asks Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"I think she's planning something or maybe," you shift uncomfortably, "maybe one of the boys replaced Paulina? Maybe Bhodi did?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think they'd do that and I don't know what Paulina could be planning without the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know," you say, "it's just... I don't know. Something's got me antsy. She has to be doing this for a reason and I want to see what it is. Maybe it's nothing. I hope it's nothing."<br/>
<br/>
"You want my help?"<br/>
<br/>
You look at Caleb and then shrug, telling him that if you need it you'll talk to him about it later. Once you've got Jordan's car you head back to her home where you intend to spend a quiet night indoors, relaxing and getting acquainted with the idea that she might be your new face. Probably you'll have to tell Grant and the others about your move and come up with a story as to why you chose her.<br/>
<br/>
It's as your ruminating all of this just before dinner that a series of texts comes in from Lindsay and give you a chill when you read them. Paulina came over to Lindsay's to hang out after school and when she'd left, the book was gone. Obviously this means Paulina found the (poorly) hidden book in Lindsay's room and lifted it. This also means that she <i>definitely</i> has some kind of plan with this slumber party... but what?<br/>
<br/>
You should probably be fine observing her on your own but Caleb did offer to help. All you'd have to do is get him into one of the other guests before the party. Jordan knows a few of them herself so it'd be tough but you could maybe pull off a swap tonight if you wanted.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132241122
author_id: seuzz
title: Life as Lindsay
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The library grows more crowded as first bell approaches, and so does your table. You, Bhodi, Paulina, Andy, Joe, Grant, Joe, Evie ... So many more people than you're used to dealing with.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Don't act paranoid,</i> you tell yourself as you listen to the guys joking and joshing. And yet you can't stop yourself from pricking up your ears at everything they say, searching for a double meaning. When Grant jokes about <i>tearing his own face off</i> because he hates his math class so much, is that a coded reference to putting on and taking off masks? When Joe observes that different people are better at different things, is he alluding <i>becoming</i> different people and <i>becoming</i> good at what they do? When Justin checks his cell phone and mutters that he needs to meet up with Ethan Clayborne after school, is he <i>openly plotting with the others about pulling off a planned replacement?</i><br/>
<br/>
Evie jerks you out of these paranoid reveries with a nudge. "Hey, you're being quiet," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Just preoccupied." You won't see her again till seventh period, so you ask, "What are you doing after school?"<br/>
<br/>
"I hear there's a party tonight," she starts to say.<br/>
<br/>
"At Laura Serrano's," Paulina puts in.<br/>
<br/>
You make a face, but tell Evie, "If we can get a ride together, I'll go with you out to it."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool!" Grant chirps from behind your shoulder. "I think we're all of us going. Pick up around eight?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Laura Fucking Serrano.</i> You're going to have all day to dread going out to her house. Even after dealing with her in some of your classes. <br/>
<br/>
Laura was okay back in middle school, when she liked comic books and <i>Star Trek.</i> But then it's like she decided she was too smart to like that kind of stuff. She also got some kind of makeover that made her really stuck up about her looks. Now she's one of those snotty girls who talks about the latest good music, thinks that everyone wants to hear what she has to say about whatever she's interested in, and judges you by how much you care about gun control.<br/>
<br/>
In other words—you explain to yourself—she's on track to be another Kelsey Blankenship.<br/>
<br/>
You first share a second period Algebra I—and how Lindsay would love to lord it over Laura taking a freshman-level math class except that Lindsay has to take it too—but luckily she sits on the other side of the room. But come third period, not only do you have Speech II with her, but Mrs. Wendt has put you on the same speech team.<br/>
<br/>
She's buffing her nails as you shuffle into the classroom, and rolls her eyes as you drop into the desk next to hers. At least she's hating the partnership as much as you. She would much rather be working with her friends—Matthew Adams and Kaitlyn Page—but Mrs. Wendt had the idea to split up the little cliques that have developed in the class. Not that Lindsay has a "clique" in here; so why did she have to get shoved into a group with Laura?<br/>
<br/>
"Hey guys!" That's Michael Duncan, the third of your four-person group. He drops his pack on his desk and wedges his long legs and torso into his seat. He's dressed in jeans, a gray hoodie, and a trucker cap like yours, and his eyes shine with the enthusiasm of a grade-A dork who thinks that if he just likes other people hard enough they'll like him back. Lindsay actually has a soft spot for him, but wishes he would try a lot less. "Did you get those links I sent you last night?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You grunt an affirmative. Lindsay shuts her eyes and lifts her brows. "Great," says Michael exclaims in his nasal squeak. "'Cos if you looked at the second and third ones—"<br/>
<br/>
"Can we wait till class starts?" Laura says. "And I didn't look at them last night? 'Cos I had <i>other</i> work I had to do?"<br/>
<br/>
Michael's face falls.<br/>
<br/>
So you jump in, "The only reason you could do that other work, Laura," you tell her, "is that Michael was out doing our other work for us. Thanks," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
Laura's eyes narrow, but Michael's light up. "The second and the third one are the real good ones," he prattles on. "They've got some arguments I haven't seen anywhere else, and I figure—" You smile at him as he rattles on, ignoring the fourth of your quartet, Lucas Mack, as he plops into a nearby seat with a quizzical look on his face. As for Michael, you've no idea what he's talking about—except that it's research for your group topic, which is on balancing freedom of expression and prohibitions on bullying and hate speech on social media—but you nod cheerfully along as he explains the reading that he linked you to.<br/>
<br/>
There's no way that you, after shutting Laura down, are going to admit to not having looked at the links either.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, somehow you survive that class, and you also scrape through AP English II. (Michael's in there too, just as bubbly and enthusiastic as in Speech.) Then comes lunch, which you take with Paulina. You hunch together at the end of one of the tables at the side of the cafeteria, ignoring and being ignored by the juniors who take up the rest of the table. "So Bhodi roped you into going out to Laura's party tonight?" you observe as you poke at the rubbery vegetarian lasagna.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. He and the guys want to go out, and I can't anyone interested in coming out to my place." She gives you a sidelong look. "I thought you didn't like Laura."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll break a couple of her lamps, and that'll make it even between us. How did Bhodi get invited to this party?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think it was him, I think it was someone else. We're all going in on someone else's ticket or something."<br/>
<br/>
"All, like, ten of us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Laura'll want it big and happening, right? Anyway, it's a way of doing something fun now that we don't have the, uh, other thing."<br/>
<br/>
It actually takes you a minute to figure out what she's referring to. "That wasn't <i>fun,</i>" you growl.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it was exciting. Kind of an adventure, had a happy ending." She squirms on her stool. "What did you do with that book?"<br/>
<br/>
"I burned it," you lie. "I put it in an empty garbage can and poured gasoline on it and I burned it."<br/>
<br/>
Actually, Lindsay hadn't figured out a way yet to dispose of the book, and it is currently hidden inside an old <i>Sorry!</i> board game box on a shelf in her bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." Paulina loses some of the color in her face. "Well, I guess that's that. Although—" She hesitates. "It might've been a good idea to keep it around, don't you think? I mean, my God," she says with sudden heat, then glances around and lowers her voice to a near-whisper. "It was really <i>magic.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"It was evil, Paulina. We talked about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but— Will and Caleb weren't evil. We're not."<br/>
<br/>
You feel the tug of an argument from Lindsay, but soften it even as you mumble around the lasagna you've stuffed in your mouth. "Even if they weren't evil, they did evil stuff with it. Which makes it worse, right?" You stuff some more food in your mouth. "If they're not evil and they did <i>that,</i> think how bad it would be if someone <i>really</i> evil got hold of it."<br/>
<br/>
"But <i>we're</i> not," Paulina protests. Then she gives up. "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope."<br/>
<br/>
And that's all that gets said about the book. You'd like to follow it up by asking about Evie, and how she feels about Will and Caleb, but it seems like it would be an awkward topic to bring up; and besides, you can talk to her about it later.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But though the devil's name isn't dropped, one of them does show up at your locker just before eighth period. Caleb leans in as you're changing books. "Hey," he says. "It's Lindsay, right?" His lips twitch.<br/>
<br/>
You give him Lindsay's most tired look. "You know my name, Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Just making sure. Anyhow, I got this for you. I was going to slip it into your locker like a love note—" He jumps back and grins as you make a fist. "But here you are." He hands you a folded piece of paper. In his cramped hand it says, <i>Joe and them are suggesting Mary Boucher or Michael Duncan for me. Thoughts?</i><br/>
<br/>
You look up in surprise. "Why them?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're all friends with Mary, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not best friends." You briefly consider the suggestion, but aren't really impressed with it. "But I assume you'd rather keep your dick intact."<br/>
<br/>
"Way to put it, Will," he growls. "So you think it should be the guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Up to you. Except Michael's kind of a doofus. Now that I think about it, he'd be perfect for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, they're suggesting it 'cos this Duncan doofus has a crush on you."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "That's what they say. Does he?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh God.</i> Now that you think about it you can totally see why that would be a rumor. "Is <i>that</i> why they want you to—?" you choke out.<br/>
<br/>
"No, they just think he would fit in with them. Except if they're gonna be other people—"<br/>
<br/>
"I have to get to class," you interrupt him. "We'll talk, uh, this weekend or something." You rush off, your head in a whirl.<br/>
<br/>
You do give some thought to the suggestions that Caleb has brought you. But ultimately you decide to let your subconscious chew over it before you make a decision.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322411221
author_id: seuzz
title: Parties to a Plot
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You come <i>this close</i> to blowing your cover after school, when you charge into the library at Bhodi and Andy and Grant with the question <i>Why the hell do want Caleb to be my boyfriend?</i> on your lips.<br/>
<br/>
But when Andy looks up and says, "Hey Lindsay," you catch yourself in time. "You going out to that party tonight?" he asks. His eyes are dancing. "I can give you a ride."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yeah," you stammer. "That'd be great, thanks. What time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eight-thirty? Are you dressing up?"<br/>
<br/>
The question almost flattens you. "No. Why would I have to dress up? It's not a formal, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Andy'll be dressing up," Grant sniggers. Bhodi nudges him as Andy reddens.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," you tell him. "I'll wear a dress if you will."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be putting on a dress." Grant sinks with suppressed laughter. Bhodi murmurs, "I'm gonna fuck you up."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, Bhodi's got the right idea.</i> These twerps are all but confessing their upcoming body-theft spree to Lindsay.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you can't tip off that you know what they're up to, so you just tell Andy he can pick you up around eight, then tell them that you have to go find Evie. You try to ignore the snickers that echo behind as you exit the library.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Dressing up" for Lindsay means a nice blouse and nice jeans and no hat and her hair pulled back in a braid. You surrender to the wince that she would give herself as she studies herself in the mirror. Her face is too flat and fat to do anything with, and her legs too short for a dress and high heels, and she has no idea what to do with her hair. <i>Not like Hannah, not like Perfect Older Sister, who with a little makeup, some stylish frames, a few strategically placed barrettes and some strappy high-heeled sandals can make herself into a smart and sexy professional educator who all the freshmen boys drool over.</i> (So you've heard.)<br/>
<br/>
Still, you keep your head up and your lips curved into your best approximation of a smile as Andy pulls up into the driveway. He's in a long-sleeve button-down shirt and pressed jeans. You're instantly consumed by jealousy. <i>How come guys only have to put on clean-limbed clothes to look awesome?</i> Andy isn't even all that great-looking, but he'll have girls flirting with him at the party anyway. "You look really nice," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks, so do you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, please. I don't have anything to wear."<br/>
<br/>
A mischievous smile slides up the side of his face. "You could go without anything on, make an entrance that way."<br/>
<br/>
You punch him in the thigh. "Are we picking anyone else up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone except Bhodi and Paulina, they're going separately." <i>Of course they are,</i> you think. "And Justin, he's not going."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Something came up."<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if it had anything to do with Ethan Clayborne, the guy he was going to meet up with after school. But you say nothing about that.<br/>
<br/>
So <i>everyone else</i> turns out to be Evie and Grant and Joe, but also Michael Duncan, to your surprise and discomfort. He is pathetically attentive to you all the way out to Laura's house. But it's worth it to see the expression on Laura's face when you and he and everyone else come piling in through her front door. You can see it her eyes, the intense temptation to say, <i>You weren't invited,</i> and the fury when she realizes that she's not brave enough to. You go out of your way to compliment Laura on the beauty of the house. Michael, who is probably trying to be sincere, follows your lead, and Laura's eyes almost start bleeding with suppressed humiliation.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a well-organized party with dance music, open spaces, and plenty of food, so you have to credit Laura that far. She can't be credited for the entertainment, though. You're sitting on a sofa between Paulina and Michael, with Bhodi on the other side of Paulina, when the it starts.<br/>
<br/>
You're not paying attention to anything in particular—not even the Seven-Up you're sipping and the ice you're chewing, or the music that's drumming off the four walls and ceiling, drowning all sounds of conversation—when you notice Ethan Clayborne trudge in from the kitchen. It's hard to miss Ethan. He's not a giant—he's of ordinary stature and only somewhat muscular build. But he can fill and dominate a space by only planting his feet and putting his hands on his hips. And when he walks, it's like watching big cat prowling the floor.<br/>
<br/>
Ethan is a wrestler, so maybe that's why he knows how to hold himself. Even in the jeans and button-up shirt (sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms) he exudes strength. He's very handsome, too, with even features and large, slate-blue eyes. His brown hair is thick and wiry, and curls in stiff waves over his ears and the top of his neck. The zits on an upper cheek only give his otherwise smooth skin some texture.<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, it's hard not to notice him as he stands in the entryway to the living room, glancing around with an alert eye. A faint smile twitches onto his lips as his gaze settles on Andrew Webb, who is perched on the arm of a sofa along the other wall and laughing with his friends Elijah and Aaron. With a cowboy's confident swagger, Ethan walks over and drops a hand on Andrew's shoulder. <br/>
<br/>
Andrew jerks around and looks up as Ethan bends to murmur in his ear.<br/>
<br/>
Andrew sucks in a cheek as he listens, then jerks upright and breaks into a smirk. Ethan grins back at him, then leads him out of the living room and up the staircase. Andrew's eye and face are shining brightly as he follows, bouncing on the balls of his feet. They disappear onto the second floor.<br/>
<br/>
You wouldn't give much thought to this—a couple of boys going off to corner some girls or to break into some hard liquor, probably—except that Andy Jensen drifts in from another room to stand at the foot of the staircase and gaze up it. He stares, and you watch him stare, and you watch as he slowly ascends the staircase. Halfway up he pauses, goes up on tiptoes, and cranes his neck. He bounces on his feet.<br/>
<br/>
Then he rushes all the way up.<br/>
<br/>
There would be nothing to connect Ethan and Andrew to Andy except—<br/>
<br/>
A chill rushes down your spine. <br/>
<br/>
Ethan and Andrew are two of your friends' targets. And Andrew is slated to be Andy's impersonation.<br/>
<br/>
<i>No. It can't be,</i> you think. Andy wouldn't be so stupid as to think he could catch and replace Andrew <i>here,</i> at a <i>party,</i> with all these kids around. Not with <i>Lindsay</i> around.<br/>
<br/>
You turn away, and guzzle your Seven-Up thoughtfully. <i>No, Andy's going up there to spy on them. To try getting a taste of things to come. He didn't have anything in his hand; and besides, he definitely couldn't do anything as long as Ethan is—</i><br/>
<br/>
You almost choke on an ice cube. <br/>
<br/>
Justin was going to meet up with Ethan after school—that's what he said in the library this morning. And he didn't come out to the party.<br/>
<br/>
Or did he?<br/>
<br/>
What if that <i>isn't</i> Ethan Clayborne? What if Ethan <i>has already been replaced?</i> What if he is luring—?<br/>
<br/>
You wheel on Paulina. "Who got us the invite out here?" you mutter in her ear. You have to repeat the question, for the music is deafening.<br/>
<br/>
"I think it was Ethan," she tells you, putting her lips so close to your ear that they tickle. "Laura wanted Ethan to come, because of course she did," she continues when you press her. "Then I think he ran into Justin or somebody and was all, like, you guys should come out too."<br/>
<br/>
You feel the blood draining from your face. <i>Was that really Ethan who got you and your friends invited?</i> He's not really a friend of any of your friends, but it sounds like the kind of thing that Justin would do—if he was impersonating Ethan. But when would he have had time to get himself in for Ethan?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh my God,</i> you think. <i>What if that really wasn't Justin in the library this morning?</i><br/>
<br/>
You're still puzzling it out when a movement at the foot of the staircase catches your attention. Joe and Grant are talking there and checking their phones, and occasionally glancing up the staircase. Long minutes pass, and you're about to conclude that they're up to nothing when Andy comes running down. They catch him and slap at him and laugh; he blushes and hangs his head, trying to pull away.<br/>
<br/>
Then someone trips over your feet: Bhodi, loping over to his friends. He catches Andy by the arm and says something; Andy shrugs and darts his eyes all about. The others try hanging onto him, but he pulls away and runs off toward the front door. The other three chortle but don't follow.<br/>
<br/>
You feel like you should look away, that you should get up and get a refill, that you should be anyplace but right here, right now, looking right at them, in case they catch you. So with your neck muscles creaking you turn your head and go back to watching the room. But still you watch them out of the corner of your eye even as you settle your gaze on Andrew's friends, Elijah and Aaron, who are talking to a couple of guys on the JV football squad.<br/>
<br/>
You turn your head to watch more directly when Ethan and Andrew come down the staircase, Ethan with his arm hanging around Andrew's shoulders. Bhodi and Grant and Joe look up at them. Andrew, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, smirks as he falls into their company, and he squirms as Grant runs a hand over his buzz-cut hair. <br/>
<br/>
Then Andrew Webb and Bhodi Weaver—guys who can't stand each other—clasp each other's hands and grin into each other's faces.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224112211
author_id: seuzz
title: Fatal Flirtations
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You pretend to ignore what has happened—what else can you do?—and thank God the guys don't bring Ethan and Andrew over to rub it all in your face. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But the play for Webb has robbed the night of whatever little fun it still had. By ten-thirty you are pleading both a headache and an impending curfew as you beg friends for a ride a home.<br/>
<br/>
One of the juniors—a football player named Jason Rowe—offers to take you. To your distress, Michael asks for a ride too.<br/>
<br/>
"That was pretty fun," he says in his nasally whine when you're in the car, you in the front seat with Jason while Michael takes the back. He presses forward with his face almost next to yours. <br/>
<br/>
"I need to learn to have more fun at these things," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"You had fun, didn't you? We danced, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that was fun," you lie. (Michael has feelings, and you're not going to tell him he danced like a marionette being operated by three quarrelling puppeteers.) "I just need to loosen up. I always get so tense at these things."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what a party's for, right? Loosening up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. So why can't I?"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs: a shrill whinny. "Maybe you need a massage?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm." You slide down before he gets the idea that he should try giving you one now. But you do admit, "I <i>love</i> massages."<br/>
<br/>
Michael titters: "Yeah-heh-heh-heh-heh?"<br/>
<br/>
"You ever have an adjustment?" Jason asks. He's concentrating on the road, and smoothly changes lanes even as he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? What's that?" Michael says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's like halfway between a massage and a visit to the chiropractor."<br/>
<br/>
"I've never been to a chiropractor," Michael says.<br/>
<br/>
"Me neither. Just an adjustment."<br/>
<br/>
"What do they do when they do an adjustment?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"They fiddle with you. That's what the one I saw did." Jason scrutinizes the rearview mirror. "She has a little shop downtown. I was having back problems, my folks were worried I hurt myself bad at one of our games, so they sent me to her."<br/>
<br/>
You glance over at Jason. He's tall and well-built for running and passing, not for blocking and tackling, so you can believe he might get badly hurt in a scrimmage.<br/>
<br/>
And he is also <i>totally hot,</i> with chocolate-brown hair that curls up in little spits; green eyes; and a sculpted face under a lofty, intelligent brow. Laura spent all evening sucking up to him and the other juniors she had coaxed out to her party, and she stared daggers when you lured him away to ferry you home.<br/>
<br/>
Not that you have any illusions that he might be interested in you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Interested in Lindsay,</i> you hurriedly correct yourself, and blush hotly.<br/>
<br/>
He's still talking, describing his session. "Like, she pulls on you and stuff. You lay down and give her your arm and she pulls your finger."<br/>
<br/>
Michael laughs. "You let something rip when she did that?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. She just kind of pulled it and shook it. Anyway, when she got done I felt like she'd taken me all apart and oiled all the joints and put me back together again but without the screws being so tight. It totally fixed my back problems too."<br/>
<br/>
Talk shifts to other subjects after that. Jason drops you off first, and Michael gets out when you do. But instead of getting into the front seat, he follows you up the sidewalk to your front door. "Um," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I was gonna walk you in," he explains.<br/>
<br/>
You tense all over. "You don't have to. Jason's waiting for you." <br/>
<br/>
"He can wait." There's an awkward pause. Then you turn to the house.<br/>
<br/>
Michael stops you when you're on the porch. "Hey, can I—? I mean, I have no idea if I'm any good at, um, giving massages. But—"<br/>
<br/>
There's a frozen moment of horror during which you think <i>He's not going to do what I think he's going to do, is he?</i>, and Michael stares down at you with eyes so wide that even in the dark the whites of them glow.<br/>
<br/>
But he does. He clasps the back of your neck with one hand, and with the other presses his fingertips into your backbone.<br/>
<br/>
You gasp and go rigid all over. It's like having a tiny dog dancing up and down your spine. You'd tell him that he has to press and push harder and deeper, but if you did then he'd try, and all you want is to get away from him with a minimal amount of embarrassment both to him and to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that was nice," you mumble when he pauses, and you pull away. "Thanks for the um, talking and dancing at Laura's."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I, uh, had fun too," he stammers.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll see you later." And even though you know it'll look awful, you lunge for the door and shove it open. "Whew, almost missed my curfew!" you shout back at him from inside, then slam the door on him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, that was awkward and awful in ways you never want to think about again. You run upstairs (after greeting your parents and wishing them goodnight) and hurl yourself onto the bed. Your cell phone is already in your hand, and your thumbs fly over the screen: <i>tell bhodi n them ull pick michsel,</i> you text Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
There's nothing wrong with Michael, you tell yourself. He's not a bad-looking guy. He's got handsome, regular features; a healthy blush under his fading summer-time tan; and (when he bothers to take his ball cap off) a thatch of soft brown hair. He's tall and skinny, and his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm.<br/>
<br/>
Too bad it's such a <i>dorky</i> enthusiasm.<br/>
<br/>
So Caleb won't be able to complain. Your only objection to Michael is that he's a flailing incompetent at flirting, and putting Caleb in for him will at least put a stop to that. Otherwise— Well, yeah, he's kind of a ninny, but he'd fit in perfectly with Bhodi and his friends, so they're totally right to suggest him to Caleb as an impersonation. Hell, two years ago he'd have fitted in perfectly with you and Caleb and Keith.<br/>
<br/>
You slap your hands over your eyes and groan. Yeah, maybe that's what's so grating about him. You and your friends share about 99.9% of your personality DNA with him, and that's <i>mortifying!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning—Saturday—you text around to your girlfriends, looking for something to do. (You assume that Joe and Grant will be off with their newly body-swapped friends, working to acquire new identities of their own; and you've no desire to hang out with golems.) But Paulina has already laid plans for the day with Bhodi—it's remarkable how quickly they have fallen into the boyfriend/girlfriend thing—so it's Evie that you'll hang out with.<br/>
<br/>
Which is totally fine. In fact, on the mile-long bike ride to the small park (halfway between your houses) where you've agreed to meet and kick around a soccer ball, you play out in your imagination a long and heartfelt conversation. Lindsay has tried being a very supportive friend to Evie since her hijacking experience, but Evie hasn't wanted to talk a lot about it. But you fantasize about it now (as both yourself and as Lindsay) and imagine her opening up, and sharing with you exactly what it was like for her, and how she felt about <i>you</i> when you came and rescued her and confessed all to her. The little that Evie has said hasn't been very revealing. Even though she has defended "Will Prescott" somewhat, mostly (you have the impression) it is because Lindsay has been so vituperative. You would like to see what she has to say when Lindsay isn't trying to suggest that he be dragged from his house and thrown in the river and there held down until a catfish eats him.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you've got grand plans for a real heart-to-heart with Evie. So imagine your chagrin when, on arriving, hot and blown, at the park, you get a text from her saying that something's come up and she can't meet you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're back home at four o'clock when the text from Michael comes: <i>hey last night was great thought we could hang out this evening you up for it?</i><br/>
<br/>
You come real close to replying that you've got family commitments, but then reflect that you should probably keep him interested, at least until he donates his body and identity to Caleb. So you arrange for him to pick you up at five.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, so wha'd you do today?" he asks as he walks you out to his car on loping legs. He's back in his usual school clothes of jeans, sneakers, a gray hoodie, and the trucker cap—which in truth is hardly different from your own wardrobe.<br/>
<br/>
"I hung out with my friend Evie this morning," you lie.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes and mouth light up. "Yeah? Evie's pretty cool. I mean, really cool. Is that what you mostly do, hang out with your girlfriends?" Your hand collide as you reach for the car door simultaneously.<br/>
<br/>
"I hang out with lots of people," you tell him as he opens it for you. "Usually do group stuff. One on one dates are kind of unusual with me." You get in.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, kind of weird for me too," he says, and slams the door on you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit,</i> you mutter as he hops around the car toward the driver's side door. It's like he's got pogo sticks for legs. "So where do you want to hang out now?" you ask as he gets in.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I dunno, wherever you want." He puts the key in the ignition but doesn't turn it. "Someplace just the two of us, though?" he asks with a wet, worried look. Your voice dies in your throat as you see the puppy-like ardor deep inside his soft brown eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Then his grin turns impish. "But don't worry that I'm gonna touch you," he says. "Even though Bhodi and them are all, like, Lindsay totally needs to get laid, you should totally try going all the way with her."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132241122111
author_id: seuzz
title: Fakes on a Date
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Oh, fuck you, man!" You shake all over as the tension gushes out through every pore on your body.<br/>
<br/>
Michael—your friend Caleb, under a mask—laughs. Filtered through Michael's nasal cackle, it comes out sounding especially nasty. "You should'a seen the look on your face, Will. If I'd'a whipped out my cock, you pro'ly woudn've—"<br/>
<br/>
"When did this happen?" you demand, pointing up and down at him. "This morning?"<br/>
<br/>
"When else? Though maybe technically it was after noon." He smirks. "Joe and Grant called Michael up. Weirdly enough, I happened to be with them—"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean, weirdly enough?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you, then rolls his eyes. "It was a joke, man. 'Course I was with them, that's what I was with 'em for." He whips off his trucker cap and pushes his fingers through his thick, soft hair. "But then I had to go home for chores, and this is the soonest I could get out here to—" He cackles again. "Freak you out." His smirk deepens.<br/>
<br/>
"So I hope you had fun, you cocksucker. But what did you want to meet up for? No," you add as he waggles his eyebrows at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Let's just go get something to eat. Michael wouldn't know what else to do with Lindsay's dumpy Korean ass anyway."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But he still won't leave it alone, even after you're seated at the McDonalds with two burgers and a mess of fries between you. "I hate to break it to you, man," he says, "but anyone catches us here like this, they <i>are</i> gonna think we're on a date." He jams a fistful of fries into his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"We're in Speech together, Michael," you remind him in your most patient voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. We're just here to talk about social mobbing and social shame for class."<br/>
<br/>
He scoops up a fat glob of ketchup on the end of a fry. "I bet Laura knows a lot about social mobbing."<br/>
<br/>
"Psht. You know, she's just gonna leave all the work to us, because—"<br/>
<br/>
"And Lucas."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's gonna leave it to us and Lucas."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, and Lucas. Jesus! You're acting just like Michael." Caleb grins at the compliment and inhales part of his burger. "Because she doesn't believe what we're arguing. She's totally on the pro-shaming side of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I dunno," he mumbles with a full mouth. "She's so—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, never mind. Tell me what's going on with the guys."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's mouth falls open, giving you a close view of his half-chewed burger. "You wanna make up your mind?" he says. "Are we supposed to be in character or not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell me."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. So, they're set up to swap Grant in for Kaylee Mercier this afternoon. God, she is so hot! They've maybe even done it now." He squints at his cell phone. "They're s'posed to send me a text when it's done. Anyway, they're doin' that but they're also trying to get this girl Alejandra for Joe this afternoon. She's a junior."<br/>
<br/>
"I know who she is. Evie's told me about her."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, it's gonna be Bhodi and, uh, Andrew— Andy—" He shrugs. "Guess it doesn't matter which one I call him, it's the same guy. Oh, man!" He throws his head back and chortles at the ceiling. "They did that one last night, at that party, practically right in front of, uh, you and Michael." He grins at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I noticed. It's a good thing it was me and not Lindsay," you add as his face falls.<br/>
<br/>
"Michael didn't notice anything!"<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't know what to look for. When did they do the swap with Ethan?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Yesterday sometime, or day before. I wasn't around. Anyway, it's all s'posed to be done by tonight." He ticks off his fingers. "Ethan and Andrew and Kaylee and Alejandra. And, uh, me. And you." He grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you supposed to keep an eye on me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. You gonna make it easy on me, start going out with Michael?" He puffs out his chest.<br/>
<br/>
"You really wanna go out with Lindsay?"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face, then turns thoughtful. You don't much like it when he turns an appraising eye on you.<br/>
<br/>
"You know," he says, "the thing about these, uh, masks is that you really do get to look at the world through the other fucker's eyes. More than that." He takes off his cap and rubs his scalp. "You got all the equipment up here, and it just changes everything you think and feel about things. If you let it, you know," he hastily adds, and settles the cap back on his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know, I got one of them too."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah." That smirk reappears. "So who does Lindsay think of when she, uh—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. This is embarrassing enough. But you're saying you could go either way with Lindsay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sure." He sucks down the last of his cola. "Of course, it'll all be for public show. When it's just us we won't— I mean, unless you—"<br/>
<br/>
"What does Michael see in Lindsay?" You feel yourself blushing as his eyes crinkle up. "What's the attraction? Why's he—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why's he got a raging boner for her?"<br/>
<br/>
"God!"<br/>
<br/>
"Ha! Well, he's got a raging boner all the time anyway. Mostly for girls like Kaylee, naturally. God!" He arches his back. "But Lindsay?" <br/>
<br/>
He settles sideways in the booth  with one foot up next to him and his elbow on the table as he studies you speculatively.<br/>
<br/>
"She's kind of a firecracker. She doesn't take any shit from people. She's fun."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Fun?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well, not fun like people were having fun last night. We really need to hang out and get you to loosen up, man. A good back rub or neck massage, like you were talking about last night. But I dunno. She just seems kind of, like, <i>alive</i> somehow." He tries pulling the last fumes of his soda out through the straw. "But come on, you gotta know what she's like, being all mixed up with her."<br/>
<br/>
"It's like I'm too close to her."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't get it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, do you know what Michael is like? Being all mixed up with him?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "Meh, kind of a well-meaning goofball."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's what I'd say about him. What would you say about Lindsay? Michael, I mean. What would he say? Three words."<br/>
<br/>
He sucks on his straw again as he studies you.<br/>
<br/>
"Dangerously active volcano," he reply after a very long silence.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It could have been worse, you suppose. It could have been a false description in addition to being an unflattering one. You're not sure what it says of Michael Duncan that he is attracted to <i>dangerously active volcanoes,</i> except maybe he's a goofball who's too dumb not to risk getting singed.<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, you and Caleb part soon afterward with the agreement that you will be close study partners at school, but nothing else. Back at your house you do homework. Lindsay is only a fair-to-middling student, despite the effort she puts into her work, but you mastered Algebra I a long time ago so you can improve her grades there, and the other sophomore classes aren't much of a challenge either. You exchange texts with friends: not only Paulina and Evie, but Ava Brewer and Julie Eckler and other girls that Lindsay is friendly with.<br/>
<br/>
Sunday is a waste. You have church the next morning, and after church you learn that Paulina and Bhodi are still doing stuff exclusively with each other, and that Evie is off playing a pick up game of soccer with some of the other girls on the JV squad. In fact, she's so wrapped up in it that she doesn't answer your texts until late in the afternoon, and it's Michael who informs you that Evie got a call from Alejandra Roldan Cortes inviting her out for the day.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, you spend the afternoon fending off texts from Justin Orr, Joe Dickerson, Grant Lowery and Andy Jensen. Not from the actual guys, who (Caleb informs you) are now firmly entrenched in a quartet of new identities. But from the doppelgangers they left behind. You demur with a slight shudder.<br/>
<br/>
That's another downside to your plan, it now occurs to you. Sure, you're keeping them safe from Lindsay by being Lindsay. But in addition to having to be Lindsay, you are also going to have to hang out with ... things ... that you know aren't real while pretending that they are. You go to bed Sunday night with a pit of dread in your stomach as you anticipate Monday morning in the library.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'll catch up to you inside," you shout at Andy Jensen when he gestures at you from across the front quad of the school. He nods and grins and proceeds toward the library. <br/>
<br/>
You feel your own smile fall off your face as he turns away. Usually Lindsay would go in with him. But you follow Hannah into the school so you can stop at your locker first. Anything to delay the moment when you have to sit down with a lot of magical robots and pretend that they are your friends.<br/>
<br/>
But speaking of fakes: You quail as a trio of students comes marching down the hallway in your direction. Ethan Claybourne, Andrew Webb, and Kaylee Mercier. Their heads are up, and their mouths are open and bright with teeth as they stride along. You avoid looking at them directly, as you're not sure you trust yourself not to betray your knowledge of who they really are.<br/>
<br/>
But you're caught by the elbow by Andrew Webb, the asshole soccer player. A.k.a., the real Andy Jensen, though you're not supposed to know that.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Lindsay," he says, and jerks his chin at you in a smirk. "How was your weekend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Um, it was great."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, mine was pretty awesome too. Great party Friday, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod.<br/>
<br/>
He glances at Ethan and Kaylee, who are watching. "We're heading to the library," he says. "Come sit with us?"</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322411221111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Popular Kids
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Come sit with us?" Andrew Webb asks you at your locker. Kaylee Mercier smiles brightly while Ethan Claybourne settles back on his heels to stare down at you with hooded amusement.<br/>
<br/>
Or, if you had X-ray vision:<br/>
<br/>
"Come sit with us?" Andy Jensen asks you at your locker. Grant Lowery smiles brightly while Justin Orr settles back on his heels to stare down at you with hooded amusement.<br/>
<br/>
"Er," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on." Andrew's smirk deepens under his twinkling eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I am supposed to meet some friends there," you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Cool, we'll make it a party." He sidles up so close you can feel the heat off his body.<br/>
<br/>
"I have to get stuff out of my locker first."<br/>
<br/>
"I can wait." Over his shoulder, to the others: "We'll catch up. Get a big table."<br/>
<br/>
Ethan nods and turns, pulling Kaylee along by draping a strong arm around her shoulders; she puts an arm around his waist. You can't help staring as they lope off down the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
"So, who are you friends with?" Andrew asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" You wrench your gaze away from the retreating backs of Ethan and Kaylee. "Oh, uh, lots of people."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, who are hanging out with now? Besides me and Ethan and Kaylee?" He crosses his arms. He's in a sleeveless tee, so they are bare up to the shoulders, and his pink biceps bulge slightly.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Uh." You swallow hard. "Andy Jensen." <i>Shit, why did you have to hurl Andy's real name at him right off the bat?</i> "Grant, uh, Lowery. You know them? Paulina Nowack?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh sure. You're friends with Bhodi too, right?" <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. We're on the soccer team together, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Right." You finish changing out books and shut your locker. You take a deep breath and give Andrew a level look.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Does he mean to smirk?</i> Andy is not a smirker, but maybe he's being super-conscientious at channeling Andrew's asshole personality. Or maybe—and this is the first time such a thought has ever occurred to you—maybe Andrew's smirking is just a quirk of his face muscles.<br/>
<br/>
<i>No, he's probably just doing his best Andrew Webb impersonation,</i> you decide as he takes your elbow and propels you down the hall.<br/>
<br/>
He's telling you about the guys he hangs out with as you enter the library. Ethan hasn't just found a table, he's pulled two big ones together, and he's draped himself at them with Kaylee at his side. They've already pulled in three others: Darrell Jackson and David Harrell—two more of the popular JV athletes in the sophomore class—and Wendy Ancier. Andrew's touch leaves a burning handprint on your shoulder as he gently guides you into a chair next to Darrell, then drops into the chair on the other side of you.<br/>
<br/>
You glance back at the table where you'd normally be sitting. Andy Jensen, Justin Orr, Grant Lowery, and Joe Dickerson are watching your table. You glance away in embarrassment as Grant leans over to mutter something to Justin.<br/>
<br/>
"'t'sup?" Darrell asks you. He's wearing a blue hoodie—he's always in a hoodie—and he's got the hood up over his head and his hands sunk into the front pockets. Does he think it makes him look ghetto? With his soft brown hair and his clear white skin, he's just about the whitest guy in the room. "You get that paper written for Mr. Hernandez?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hernandez, Hernandez ...</i> Right, you had to compose a short paper on the US court system for AP American Government. "Oh. Yeah. Sure. You?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't gotta. Did the extra credit paper for him last week. Two weeks ago?" His brow crinkles.<br/>
<br/>
"So you just skipped this one?"<br/>
<br/>
"It covered this one. He told me I didn't have to do it."<br/>
<br/>
"Must be nice," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"You should try doing the extra credit. It's less work over the long haul. Hey man." He leans back and stretches out a hand as Elijah Washington slides behind him. <br/>
<br/>
The black basketball player—tall and skinny, with a shy, snaggle-toothed smile—slaps Darrell in a high-five, then squeezes past you to slap hands with Andrew before taking a seat. "'Cha doin' in here, man?" he asks Andrew as he hugs his backpack. His voice is so soft as to be almost inaudible. "Was waitin' f'r your ass outside."<br/>
<br/>
"I ran into Ethan."<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, man." Elijah jerks his chin at Claybourne. "Wha'bout Riggs?"<br/>
<br/>
"He can come find us if he wants. Hey, you got—?" <br/>
<br/>
Andrew leans over to fiddle with Elijah's backpack, but Elijah slaps him back. "Getcha hands off. What're you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your geometry homework, man!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well <i>ask</i> for it, dumbass." He roots around inside his pack. "Or start studying. What you gonna do when we start gettin' tests?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's what the next fifteen minutes are like. Things only grow more raucous as a shaggy-headed Aaron Riggs lumbers in to sit with Andrew and Elijah, and Johanna Bergstrom joins Wendy and Kaylee.<br/>
<br/>
Then three strokes in succession.<br/>
<br/>
The first, dreadfully, is Laura Serrano. She comes dragging in behind Leslie Osbourne, who charges straight at Ethan. Leslie is all bright teeth and fabulous hair and pink pearl earrings as she wriggles up next to him, touching him on the shoulder and caressing his neck; Ethan returns her a confident smirk. That's only awkward to watch, but then Leslie pushes Darrell into moving so that Laura can sit with her, which puts Laura right next to you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck.</i> You are <i>not</i> going to hang out with the guys if <i>Laura</i> is going to be friends with them. Maybe you'll talk to Caleb about it, get him to drop a hint to the guys that Lindsay would be a lot happier if Leslie and her—<br/>
<br/>
"You okay?" Andrew asks as you suddenly try coughing your tonsils into the crook of your elbow.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That's not Leslie Osbourne! That's Mrs. Matthias! Dane's mother!</i><br/>
<br/>
You almost forgot that she was slated to become Leslie. But it must be her, they must have made the switch, because Leslie sure isn't being shy with Ethan; after giving you a sideways glance, she's gone back to playing with his bangs. In fact, she's so obvious about it that Wendy is giving her a look.<br/>
<br/>
The second stroke comes when Bradley White drops in next to David and Darrell. Your heart immediately starts running laps inside your chest, and it almost hurts to rip your eyes off him.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit. He's Lindsay's crush!</i><br/>
<br/>
You scrutinize him. He's nothing real special to your eye. He's tall and lithe, but with shoulders that fill out his shirt. He's very pale, with a shaggy mop of white-yellow hair under a black-and-white ski cap. His eyes are dark and the glint with a mischievous light as he glances around the table. His grin is small but sharp. He leans to the side, putting his arm around Darrell; Wendy squeals, jumps, and whirls on Harrell. Bradley snickers as David protests that he did <i>not</i> pinch her.<br/>
<br/>
The third shock, which surpasses the rest, is when Bhodi and Paulina settle in on the other side of Aaron. He and Andrew high-five each other.<br/>
<br/>
They're acting totally like they belong at a table with these kids, who they (and Lindsay) don't have much to do with. They're jocks, mostly. Not assholes for the most part—except for Andrew—but they all carry the stink of the gym in their clothes. The girls are either cheerleader wannbes like Kaylee and Wendy, or rich, academic superstars like Leslie and Laura.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh my God,</i> you suddenly realize. <i>I'm sitting with the "popular kids"! That's who they're turning themselves into! And that's who Bhodi and Andy and the rest of them want their friend Lindsay to hang out with!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yeah, I'm s'posed t'start hangin' out with 'em too," Caleb admits in Michael Duncan's nasal whine when he catches up to you between classes at your locker. <br/>
<br/>
"No offense," you reply, "but isn't that gonna look kind of funny to see you with them?" You glance up and down at him. Michael Duncan is the kind of gangly sophomore who can barely keep his feet under him—not at all the type to hang out with basketball players, wrestlers, and snowboarders.<br/>
<br/>
"No offense," he retorts, "but isn't it gonna look kind of funny to see <i>you</i> with them?"<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. "Not as long as Bhodi and Paulina are hanging out with them too. But it's gonna look kind of funny even for them to be hanging out with Ethan and them. Don't you think? Jesus! I wonder what Paulina is thinking."<br/>
<br/>
"You could ask her. Aren't you, like, best girlfriends now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. And I don't want her to start getting suspicious or anything, so we shouldn't say anything to her."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I'd even be talking to her." His whine deepens. "She's not someone I even really hang out with, Lindsay."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're gonna start, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"It'd be easier if you and me were, like, going out together. But I guess that's not gonna happen, right?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>You could switch into Bradley's face,</i> you think with a beating heart, then wince internally.<br/>
<br/>
"So when Andrew asks you out," Caleb says, "what are you gonna say?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What?"</i> You wheel on Caleb. He breaks out in an ugly grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Oops, I shouldn't have let that slip," he chortles. "But yeah, that's the new plan. If you're not gonna go out with me, maybe you'll go out with one of them. They're really keen, man, on making sure Lindsay's still part of their group, so Andy's gonna try roping her in. I think <i>he's</i> got a crush on her too. So he's planning on hooking up with her. Or, I should say, on hooking up with <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh my God.</i> What <i>can</i> you going to say to that without blowing your cover?</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224112211112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Complicated Love Life of Lindsay Cho
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're still in a daze when you come out of fourth-period English with Michael/Caleb trailing behind, until you're startled out of it by the sight of Bhodi and Paulina chatting with Andrew and his friends outside the cafeteria. "Hey, there you are," Paulina says as she puts her arm around you. It's a nice arm, and you get a thrill off it even as you stiffen under Andrew's open smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"So we'll definitely see you over at Kaylee's after school?" he asks Bhodi. Bhodi brushes his hair back and says he'll try. Andrew pokes you in the shoulder. "You coming? Afterschool party."<br/>
<br/>
"I've got homework."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a homework party."<br/>
<br/>
Elijah laughs. "No it isn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, dumbass." To you: "I'll bring mine if you bring yours." Behind him, Aaron sniggers through his nose.<br/>
<br/>
"Um—"<br/>
<br/>
Paulina jumps in. "Bhodi and I are definitely going to be there," she tells you. "I'm gonna talk to Evie too."<br/>
<br/>
You give up. "Sure, I'll figure something out." Andrew tells you that's awesome. Then he and his friends swagger off. He looks back at you over his shoulder as he goes.<br/>
<br/>
You turn to Paulina, and your jaw drops.<br/>
<br/>
She and Bhodi are kissing.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, not intensely. There's obviously no tongue. But he is bending over her, and their noses are touching and their lips are brushing against each others'. You stare in shock for a solid five seconds, then rip your gaze away.<br/>
<br/>
They're not at it long. They press fingertips together, push away, and Bhodi goes loping down the hallway, also glancing back over his shoulder at his girlfriend. Unlike Andrew, though, who smoothly made it around a corner, Bhodi bumps into the wall.<br/>
<br/>
"Wow." You can't suppress the exclamation after he's gone. "PDA much?"<br/>
<br/>
"That was hardly a PDA," she retorts.<br/>
<br/>
Michael says, "It wasn't exactly private." His whinny startles you: you'd forgotten he was with you.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you eating with us?" Paulina asks him. Her tone isn't exactly welcoming.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure he is." You put your arm in his. "He's my speech partner." Paulina visibly sags.<br/>
<br/>
You all three brought your own lunches, so you are able to get to a table right away. Paulina frowns as Michael gets his stilt-like legs tangled up in the stools while takes a seat.<br/>
<br/>
"So I guess things are going great between you and Bhodi," you observe as you pull out a plastic tub of leftover goulash.<br/>
<br/>
"Teh Body," she giggles. "Remember when we used to call him that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was all of five days ago."<br/>
<br/>
"It was a <i>month,</i> Lindsay. It feels like a year. God, so much has happened recently!"<br/>
<br/>
"So much fuck-uppery, you mean. God!" You glance around. "Speaking of which, have you seen those two assholes around?" (It feels like the right thing for Lindsay to say.) "Have they been getting up to any—?" You frown, for someone is tapping at your foot. "Is that you?" you ask Michael.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that me what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Stretching your legs."<br/>
<br/>
"It's <i>me</i> stretching my legs," Paulina says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, so have you heard anymore about those two— What is wrong with you?" She's bumped into you again.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you guys talking about?" Michael asks. He's jammed half a sandwich into his mouth, and a fat wad of grape jelly is hanging off the bottom of a cheek.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh.</i> Paulina doesn't want you talking about Will and Caleb and their misadventures in front of the person she thinks is Michael. "Some assholes we got mixed up with," you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"What assholes? Wha'did they do to you?" Michael sits up very straight, his eyes hard and bright.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," Paulina tells him. "Lindsay thinks everyone is an asshole."<br/>
<br/>
"I do not!"<br/>
<br/>
"Not even Andrew?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" <i>Where did that come from?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Andrew Webb. You don't think <i>he's</i> an asshole?"<br/>
<br/>
You see your chance to get out of the trap that Andy and his friends have laid for you. "Andrew is <i>definitely</i> an asshole."<br/>
<br/>
"But you're coming out to the party with him after class."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm coming out with <i>you.</i> What the hell? Maybe I'll skip it."<br/>
<br/>
"No you won't. You'll get a ride with me—"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't make me!"<br/>
<br/>
"It would be really nice, Lindsay. We're getting to be friends with them. You want to be friends with them, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's 'them'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Andrew and Elijah and Aaron." Her voice turns stubborn. "Ethan. Kaylee. Leslie. Darrell." Her lips twitch. "Bradley."<br/>
<br/>
You feel your eyes narrow. "That's a low blow," you hiss.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but <i>don't</i> you? Him and Ethan are, like, bee-eff-effs, you'd be hanging out with—"<br/>
<br/>
"What does this have to do with Andrew?"<br/>
<br/>
The question seems to catch her like a blow to the stomach. "Well, he's friends with Ethan too," she finally stammers.<br/>
<br/>
"So set me up to do homework with Bradley—"<br/>
<br/>
"You should really give Andrew a chance, Lindsay. He really likes you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>God!</i> And how do you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"He was talking about you with Bhodi. They were all talking during soccer practice, and Andrew said—"<br/>
<br/>
"And how did they get to be so friendly with each other? Bhodi and Andrew? I thought they, like, hated each other."<br/>
<br/>
Again, you've caught her off guard. "They got it all patched up," she stammers. "I don't know how. They got together and talked things out."<br/>
<br/>
You snort. "I do <i>not</i> imagine Andrew Webb talking his feelings out. I <i>do</i> imagine him pulling the legs and wings off flies, then burning them to death with a magnifying glass."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know if they talked, Lindsay. Maybe they punched each other until they were friends. Whatever guy thing it is that guys do when they— Look, I don't know!"<br/>
<br/>
Michael—who has been listening to all this with his sandwich halfway to his mouth and his mouth hanging open to receive a sandwich that can't complete its journey—raises his hand. "You know, I'm a guy. You could ask me."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," you snarl.<br/>
<br/>
But Paulina kicks you. "I'm sorry," you mumble. "What do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks between you and Paulina. His voice tightens. "I think you could do a lot better than with a jerk like Andrew Webb. If you're, you know—" He starts to redden. "If you're looking for, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"I think you could really hit it off with Andrew," Paulina says. She shoots Michael a frowny glance. "When he starts a sentence he can usually finish them."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." You roll your eyes. "So if he wants to ask me if I want to go off and screw in the bathroom, he can come right out and say, 'Hey Lindsay, wanna go lock ourselves in the bathroom and screw?'"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You insist on shutting down the topic after that, and Paulina is in a sour mood when you part. You follow Michael to his locker. "Make a point with those guys that I'm <i>not</i> going to go out with Andrew, okay?" you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do my best," Caleb mutters in a voice closer to his natural baritone. "But they seem pretty set on it. Paulina especially. I mean, Jesus!" He yanks a book from the bottom of the stack inside his locker, setting off a bookslide. "You think maybe it's Bhodi pushing the idea onto her?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like her," you agree. "Not like Lindsay would expect from her," you add in an even lower voice. "Lindsay <i>knows</i> that Andrew's a creep and a lowlife, so Paulina would know better than to push him on her, even if Bhodi was pushing it on her."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb sucks on a tooth. "You think maybe she's, uh, not herself?"<br/>
<br/>
You flinch under the blow. "No! They'd never do that to Paulina!"<br/>
<br/>
"You did it to Lindsay."<br/>
<br/>
"That's different, I wasn't friends with Lindsay. Listen, set yourself up with them to go out to that party this afternoon. I'll get a ride with you. We'll talk about it on the way out."<br/>
<br/>
"You're being a cock tease, man," Caleb says as he slams the locker shut. "First you don't want anything to do with me, now you're asking me to play chauffeur." The whine returns to his voice. "Come on, Lindsay, don't put me in the freaking <i>friend zone.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you're not able to talk to Caleb on the ride out because Evie comes and finds you just before last period to ask if she can get a ride with you out to Ethan's. Instinct takes over, and you agree to have Michael pick her up too.<br/>
<br/>
You're alone in the back seat while Michael entertains Evie up front, so that gives you time to do a little planning ahead. You don't like the lay of the ground.<br/>
<br/>
Andy and his friends have already tried to shove Caleb-as-Michael at you. Now they are trying to shove Andy-as-Andrew at you. Will they give up, or will you wind up having to fend off Justin-as-Ethan? Will they shuffle Caleb into Bradley and try to set up something there?<br/>
<br/>
You're feeling hunted and cornered, until with an audible bark of relief—one that causes Evie to turn around and Michael to look in the rearview mirror—you realize that Andy and his friends have given you an escape route.<br/>
<br/>
You have been impersonating Lindsay so as to neuter her, figuring that someone needed to keep an eye on her lest she figure out what was going on with her friends. But if they succeed in pairing Lindsay with a boyfriend—one of them—then they will be spying on her themselves, and you won't have to continue this charade.<br/>
<br/>
But would it be safe to turn Lindsay loose? Maybe you should turn her into a golem, just to be sure.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132241122111123
author_id: seuzz
title: The Homework Party
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Michael has to park half a block down and across the street from Kaylee's because there's too many cars piled up in her driveway and jammed up in front of her house. "How many people are coming out for this thing?" you ask in awed tones.<br/>
<br/>
"Like, the whole school," Michael replies. "I think the guys were inviting everyone."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Must be everyone if it includes us,</i> Lindsay whispers in the back of your head. You glance at Evie to see her reaction: Her face is shining and her eyes are glinting.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, sure she's excited,</i> you reflect as you get out of the car. <i>It's a party at Kaylee Mercier's house, and there's going to be guys like Andrew Webb and Ethan Clayborne and girls like Leslie Osbourne and Avery Ayala and who knows who else there.</i> This isn't a normal after-school thing for girls like her or you.<br/>
<br/>
You ring the doorbell, but Michael shoves you aside and just pushes the door open. The foyer leads right into a living room, and as you enter three kids your age go sauntering past. You grab at Evie. <i>The skinny blonde guy in the white t-shirt and designer sunglasses? That's Aaron James! You've </i>never<i> been to the kind of party where </i>Aaron James<i> shows up!</i><br/>
<br/>
But he doesn't acknowledge you as he passes, he just tosses an arm over the shoulders of—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is that Amber Hartsel? If it is, did she drive, or did she ride one of her family's prize stallions over?</i><br/>
<br/>
You glance again at Evie. Her cheeks are now glowing like apples, and the light dances in her eyes as she returns your astonished stare.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh man," Michael says. He cranes his neck. "So where—?"<br/>
<br/>
He advances toward an archway leading into a dining room, where you can just make out a cluster of more people crowded around the table. But your trio is intercepted by Ethan, who saunters in from another hallway. "Oh hey," he rumbles, and a gleam of obvious interest shows in his eyes as he looks over each of you, one by one. "Party's downstairs." He jerks his head back the way he came. "Drop your books, make a space. Want something to drink? I'm gettin' stuff anyway."<br/>
<br/>
Evie asks for something diet; you and Michael will take regular colas, any flavor. You feel tongue-tied as you trail your friends back the way Ethan came, following the softly pulsing music that pulses up from the bottom of a narrow staircase.<br/>
<br/>
It leads you down into a huge basement. A really huge basement. It must take up the entire footprint of the house above, and it's been completely redecorated as a giant recreation room. There's a bar with six stools and a row of taps against one wall; a pool table and a foosball table against the far wall; a weight set and two exercise bikes in a corner; and three dumpy sofas make a U in front of a big-screen TV. The floor is concrete, but there's thick, ugly, cheap bolts of carpet scattered like rugs over it.<br/>
<br/>
And crawling and crouching and squirming all over the floor and furniture are dozens of high school kids. Guys in shorts and t-shirts. Guys in jeans and hoodies. Girls in shorts and halter tops. <br/>
<br/>
They've spread books and papers out among and between them, and a few of the kids—sprawling on their sides or stomachs—are actually leaning over them with pencils and pens. But most are sitting cross-legged against the furniture or draped over the couches, and no one seems to be actually reading or working. They're all laughing and talking and brushing against each other, craning over to share cell phones or bags of chips. Five burly guys—football players or wrestlers by the looks of them—are studying the pool table as one of them leans across it with a cue to click a ball into a pocket; the foosball table is also taken with two guys—Bhodi being one of them, you recognize to your surprise—while a small crowd watches. The air buzzes and rumbles with talk and laughter, and thumps to the beat of soft music.<br/>
<br/>
"Evie!" someone calls. It's Kaylee Mercier—a fit, tanned, blonde goddess-in-training; a kind of Chelsea Cooper in waiting—and she waves from the floor and beckons your friend over with a grin. "I heard you were coming out!" She pats the floor beside her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Way to blow your cover, Grant,</i> you think. <i>Since when does Kaylee Mercier know who Evie Cummings is?</i> You and Michael follow her over.<br/>
<br/>
Too late you see the trap: Andrew Webb smirks up at you from Kaylee's side, and before you can back away he lightly grabs your wrist. You pull away, then give up and settle down next to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome, you made it," he says, and leans in so close you can smell the spicy cinnamon on his breath. He rubs a bare arm—he's in a muscle shirt—up against you before settling back. <br/>
<br/>
"Wouldn't miss it," you reply, and glance around the circle. Besides Kaylee (Grant) and Andrew (Andy), there's Leslie Osbourne (Mrs. Matthias) and Kaylee's best friend, Wendy Adler, and Andrew's best friend, Aaron Riggs. When Ethan (Justin) drops into the only empty space in the circle and leans across to hand you and the others your drinks, you think, <i>Yeah, there's no way they were going to let me and Evie and Michael sit with anyone else.</i> This is the hot, molten center of the sophomore class, the crown of its Mount Olympus.<br/>
<br/>
It leaves you feeling very exposed. <i>What's everyone else going to think of someone like you hanging out with kids like these?</i> But "everyone else" seems to be too wrapped up in all kinds of other business—phones and flirting—to pay any attention to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Whadja bring with you?" Andrew asks. He jerks a chin at your backpack.<br/>
<br/>
"Homework. Isn't it supposed to be a homework party?"<br/>
<br/>
He giggles—a squeal like a pig that's being tickled. "What it's supposed to be," he agrees. "Need any help with it?" He touches your pack, but you push him away to unzip it yourself. "Know anything about math?" you ask as you lug a massive textbook out.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I'm— Wait, is that algebra?" He bursts out laughing. "You're taking Algebra One?"<br/>
<br/>
But he just as quickly shuts himself up when you glare at him. "Sorry," he says. "But weren't you supposed to take it last year? That's when—"<br/>
<br/>
"I had a schedule conflict last year, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Well, I can definitely help you out with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude," Ethan rumbles in his resonant baritone. "Didn't you get like a fifty-nine on our last math quiz?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eat a cock. Mrs. Oliver, like, cold-cocked me on that quiz. And I'm doing better in there. Got a ninety-five on last Thursday's homework," he brags.<br/>
<br/>
"Who did it for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eat. A. Cock. But that's geometry." He rolls onto his side so he can smirk directly into your face. "I'm, like, an algebra genius."<br/>
<br/>
So you open your book and take out your homework and you let him help you with it. You have to pretend to be a lot worse at it than you actually are—you got good math grades back when you were a freshman, and actually sort of cared about this stuff—and Andrew turns out to be pretty good at explaining it, probably because he's got Andy Jensen's brain, and Andy is very good at math. But he keeps pressing up against you, and you feel your face burning when you catch Kaylee leaning over with a smile to whisper in Ethan's ear. He snickers, and he grins over at you with a glint in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There are plenty of snacks, but snacks are no substitute for supper, and so a handful of people are deputized to make a food run. Money is collected, and Michael (being someone with a car) is volunteered to help fetch; you volunteer to go with him, and Andrew volunteers himself to go along too. But while he's in the bathroom, you hustle Michael out the door and into the car before he can join you. "'Z'amatter with you, man?" Michael laughs. "Andrew's gonna think you're not into him."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care! I wanna talk! What did Kaylee want to talk to you about?" At one point, she had dragged him off for a conference under the transparent excuse that she needed his help getting something down from a kitchen cabinet.<br/>
<br/>
"A new face. No point in me being Michael if you're gonna be sucking face with Andrew."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not—! Fuck you, man!"<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, Will. He's totally into you."<br/>
<br/>
You shove him hard enough to stagger him, but he only laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I want a new face too," you fume, and slump deeper into the passenger seat "Andy's not gonna take no for answer, and I don't want—"<br/>
<br/>
"God damn it, Will!" You look over in surprise at Caleb's expostulation. "How many fucking faces are you going to go through before you stop on one?"<br/>
<br/>
"Until I find one hat Andrew's not gonna—! Look, I thought Lindsay was going to be it! Okay? Really. But it turns I don't <i>need</i> to be her any more, not if those guys are going crowd up around her." <i>And not if Andrew's gonna try crawling all over her.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Christ. So are you gonna go back to being Dane?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck no. Look, I want you to tell the guys that you were talking to me— To Dane, you know. And tell them I said I was going nuts pretending to be him without having any of my old friends around. So I told you I decided I wanted to move down into the sophomore class with you all. So who are you going to be? Whadja tell Kaylee?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told her I'd think about it. It's gonna be someone back there, that's for sure."<br/>
<br/>
"Like that narrows it down. Was that all you talked to her about? 'Cos you were gone forever." <i>Leaving me alone with Andrew,</i> you add in silent, bitter protest.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we had to talk a little about the plan."<br/>
<br/>
"What plan?"<br/>
<br/>
"The plan they got, for taking over all the popular kids." He glances over at you. "Come on, Will, you must'a noticed by now."</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322411221111231
author_id: seuzz
title: The Sophomore Scheme
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What kind of plan?" you exclaim. "What do you mean 'take over the popular kids'?"<br/>
<br/>
Just saying it aloud gives you a sudden, shocking vision: those kids back in the basement, crawling all over each other, and every one of them a fake, a magical robot. "Who—? You didn't tell them about all the extra masks that we made, did you?" you squeak.<br/>
<br/>
"No!" Michael gives you a look. "Anyway, it's Justin and Joe and Andy who came up with the plan," he continues. "Grant's just along for the tits and giggles. But the plan is—"<br/>
<br/>
He glances over his shoulder while changing lanes. You grab the shoulder strap as he lunges over.<br/>
<br/>
"So each of those guys they're being, you know," he resumes, "has got their own little group that they hang out with. You know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." Andrew Webb hangs out with Aaron Riggs. Kaylee has her circle of girlfriends. Ethan's got half-a-dozen worshipful guys orbiting him.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what the guys want is to have someone, each of us, inside his own little group, kind of managing it. Infiltrating it, running it. So they already got Ethan inside of Ethan's group, and Andrew inside Andrew's group—"<br/>
<br/>
"Right. I get that."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, they want to scatter out and put, uh, me and you, if you'll go along with it, inside some of the other little groups, inside other circles of, you know, popular kids. That way— Okay, so you know how they got that big-ass party together, right? Ethan invited his friends and Andrew invited his, and Kaylee and Leslie invited theirs, and then they pulled in some others. Well, if they got different people, like us, planted out in different groups, they could then pull even more of the popular kids, and <i>all</i> the friends of <i>those</i> people, that they're pretending to be, into parties and shit like that. Sort of, gives them influence over, control over, all the popular kids because you've got, um, one agent in each little group. Managing them."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. And the point of this is?"<br/>
<br/>
Michael shrugs. "To keep their fingers up all these guys' asses? Actually—" He does a double-take at you, and his mouth slides up into a wry half-smile. "Actually, I figure it's just a way of getting themselves and their friends—you know, Evie and Paulina and Bhodi and <i>Lindsay</i>—" He snickers. "Getting them popular. 'Cos they wouldn't just be friends with <i>one</i> of the popular sets. They'd be friends with <i>all</i> of them. Ethan be tellin' his set that Bhodi and Paulina are cool, and Andrew be tellin' <i>his</i> friends they're cool, and Kaylee and Leslie telling <i>their</i> friends. And they'd get to decide who's cool and what's cool about <i>everything</i>, 'cos they'd have control of all the cool, most popular kids."<br/>
<br/>
As you imagine the scene, Michael starts to chuckle. "Man," he says. "Can you picture what you and me, and Tilley and Ioeger and Lamont, maybe— What <i>we</i> could'a done with these masks, putting together a gang of gangs up in the senior class?"<br/>
<br/>
It is food for thought.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Michael walk out of Taco Famoso with a dozen packed bags between you. You won't be having any yourself, of course: the food there is notorious for opening geysers at both ends of the digestive track. In fact, you decide to skip the rest of the party, and tell Caleb to drop you off at home on account of a text from your mom, and to bring your backpack by later. <br/>
<br/>
After eating supper, you get a ride up to the city library. There, you text Caleb at Michael's number, and text fake-Dane at his, telling them where to meet you. While waiting, you occupy yourself with a random science-fiction book from off the shelf.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is the first to arrive (bringing your backpack with him), and he chortles hard over the red-faced embarrassment you caused Andrew by ducking out on him. Not long after, a brightly grinning Dane Matthias shows up.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude!" he groans. "Have I got fucking news for—" He stops short when he notices Caleb in the seat next to yours, but he resumes with a laugh when you tell him who "Michael" really is.<br/>
<br/>
"So, I'm late getting out here," he says after falling into the chair opposite you, "'cos guess who I had over at my place just a little while ago." His eyes twinkle.<br/>
<br/>
"Shit," Caleb mutters. "Will, tell this stoner we don't want to hear how he got laid."<br/>
<br/>
Dane's eyes pop. "Fuck me, but I <i>did</i> get laid! Last  weekend!" He sits up. "I was hangin' out with—"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't want to hear about," you tell him, even though you do. (Just not now.) "Who was out at your place tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
He rolls his tongue around in his cheek. "Paulina and Bhodi."<br/>
<br/>
You and Michael exchange a glance. "The fuck?" Michael says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! And get this!" He beams and quivers like he's about to orgasm. "They <i>know!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He throws his head back and laughs, then flinches when you slap him on the leg. "They know what?"<br/>
<br/>
"About the masks! About what you guys are doing! You and Bhodi's friends!" he continues as you gape in puzzlement at him. "They know who I am! Or, I mean, who they think I am! They think I'm you! Uh, they think I'm Will!"<br/>
<br/>
At first you want to tell him that <i>of course</i> Bhodi knows who you are and about what his friends are up to. Then, when Caleb says, "Shit, you mean <i>Paulina</i> knows too?" you realize what Dane has just said.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! She knows all about what they're doing. What <i>you're</i> doing," he adds, pointing at Caleb. "They even showed me your picture on her cell phone, said that that was you." He cocks his head. "Must'a been a old picture, 'cos you don't look like—"<br/>
<br/>
"So how does Paulina know?" you demand. Then, as a cold hand closes around your heart, you add, "You didn't tell them about <i>me,</i> did you? That I'm pretending to—"<br/>
<br/>
"No way, man. I may look like a stoner, but I ain't dumb!" His gaze sharpens. "I'm at least as smart as you, cocksucker. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"So did Bhodi tell her?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. But all the guys know she knows. She's been in on it from the start, it sounds like, even before they started getting themselves new faces. I think she was helping. Anyway, she said something that made it sound like she helped them get one of the girls for one of those guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit." You wheel on Caleb. "That explains why she's been pushing me at Andrew. She <i>knows</i> who he really is, and she <i>wants</i> Lindsay to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I get it, Will. But why," he asks Dane, "did they come over to tell you?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos they wanted to know if I wanted to make a switch, and if I had a mask I could make a switch with. They said <i>you're</i> making a switch," he tells Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
Your friend lets out a low whistle. "Fits in with what we were talking about earlier, right? Fuck." His eyes widen. "You don't suppose they know who you're really being, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head, but have to suppress a shiver anyway. "No, 'cos they went to Dane here. That's where they think I am. And they'd'a pulled me over and beat the shit outta me if they knew I was being Lindsay. What did you tell them?" you ask Dane.<br/>
<br/>
"Told 'em I'd have to think about it. They were also asking about how many extra masks I had. They didn't say why."<br/>
<br/>
You look at Michael, but neither of you voices the thought: <i>Because maybe Paulina and Bhodi are looking to make a switch too?</i> It would fit in with the "plan" that Caleb was telling you about earlier—more faces to use to manipulate the sophomore class.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's not much more to talk about. Dane tells you that they were going to send him a list of names and pictures of possible people; he says that he'll forward it to you.<br/>
<br/>
You get it later that night, after you're back home, and after changing into pajamas you curl up in your bed to study it. There's a score or so of names and photos to scroll through and ponder; none of them would be known to Will Prescott, but Lindsay's memories tell you most everything you would need to know.<br/>
<br/>
Paulina didn't classify them—she just sent names and links to social media pages—and most of the names can only be classified as "cool" people, including two whose presence astonished you at Kaylee's party—Aaron James and Amber Hartsel.<br/>
<br/>
But as you study them you start to sort them out into types.<br/>
<br/>
First (and it's no surprise) are the sports people: football players and softball players mostly.<br/>
<br/>
Then there are the musicians. Paulina and Bhodi have put down all four members of Los Scorchicos, the garage band that's uber-popular in the sophomore class, as possibles, even though two of them (Bastian Jankowski and Scarlett Bard) are juniors. But they've also put down Jody Lepley, who fronts a new band, Tiger Driver.<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of juniors, at first you think it's a mistake when a link takes you to Jason Rowe's Instagram account, but then you notice a couple more juniors who were at Laura's party last Friday, and so the guys must think they can get even more cred by getting some juniors to hang out with them.<br/>
<br/>
But then you remember what Caleb said: What you could get up to with that kind of scheme in the senior class. Maybe you should counter-propose to the guys that they move that operation up into the senior class instead.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224112211112311
author_id: seuzz
title: The Last Day of Life as Lindsay?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You study the list with an eye toward finding aliases that would help out your sophomore friends with their plan. But almost every name Paulina provided would bring in new "friends" outside of the cliques that they already dominate.<br/>
<br/>
So you concentrate on eliminating names. The masks of Ethan and Andrew, for instance, probably give your friends an in with the football and softball players, so you cut them from consideration. The masks of Kaylee and Leslie give them an in with many of the others. Joe has already turned himself into a junior—Gabriela Costa, though you haven't seen much of her—so you cross out the juniors.<br/>
<br/>
By this process of elimination, then, you find yourself studying the musicians.<br/>
<br/>
None of them, you realize when you think back, were at Kaylee's party, so they really would be a new addition. And Los Scorchicos—though its music isn't much to Lindsay's taste or to yours—is incredibly popular in the sophomore and freshman classes, so there would be a lot of popularity there to rub off on your friends. And two of that bands' members—Bastian and Scarlett—are juniors, so that would be a bonus.<br/>
<br/>
It's not yet eleven o'clock, so you call Michael. "Yeah?" he says when he answers, and he sounds worried. "What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. I just wanted to talk."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. Then: "I'm supposed to turn my phone off after ten o'clock, Lindsay. If I get in trouble 'cos of—"<br/>
<br/>
"What, are your parents Mormon or something?"<br/>
<br/>
Another pause. "I think you mean, are they Quakers. No, wait. Amish? Are those the people that—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, can you talk or can't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm under the covers, so yeah. What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanted to talk to you about who we're going change into. I was looking at the Los Scorchicos guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Yeah, I was thinking about them too. You know, if we were in that band together, that'd be cool."<br/>
<br/>
It would be. But then you think: "Wait, aren't we supposed to spread out? Isn't that what the guys want?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pft, Will, why can't we do what we want?"<br/>
<br/>
That's true. "So who do you like?"<br/>
<br/>
"In the band? Any of 'em I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Scarlett Bard?"<br/>
<br/>
A pause. "Except her. She's kind of ruining it for them, don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like, they were these awesome up-and-coming guys, and then they added her on keyboards, and since then—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck. You're talking like you're an expert on them. Since when do you know anything about Los Scorchicos?"<br/>
<br/>
"Since I got shoved back two years at school. But they were definitely better before they hooked up with her. That's what Michael thinks, anyway."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt. "So you'd want one of the guys.? Bastian? That'd bump you back up a grade."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but he's dating Scarlett, isn't he? Well, that might not be so bad," he adds, "providing we can get her and her keyboards off the stage."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Like that would happen,</i> you think. You don't know much about Los Scorchicos, but you'd bet serious money that a guy isn't going to be able to talk his girlfriend into quitting the band they both play in, and to talk her into quitting it because some of the kids at school think she's uncool.<br/>
<br/>
But Caleb takes Bastian, that would leave Matthew Ghenz or Liam Schoonover for you. Both are good-looking kids, and Lindsay is plugged in enough to know that each of them has a "team" of fans. Lindsay herself would be "Team Matthew," you suppose. At least, he seems quieter than Liam, who is a hyperactive loudmouth. And when Caleb says that Liam also looks like a good choice to him, it seems to you that Matthew would be a natural complement.<br/>
<br/>
But then Caleb also says that he was also looking at Matthew Adams and few of the other guys as choices, and that he's really undecided and would want a day or two to think about it. So you hang up without making a final choice.<br/>
<br/>
You run through the list one more time before closing down for the night, and that's how you remember that Jody Lepley is also a nominee for hijacking. She is small and has kind of a moth-eaten look to her—maybe because she dresses in boys' clothes—but her presence on the list reminds you that the two most popular bands in the senior class, Slow Fast Hazel and Lady Steel, are fronted by girls (and Lady Steel is a girl-only band).<br/>
<br/>
That makes her worth a second look, at least.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Paulina and Bhodi are waiting out front when you arrive at school the next morning, and for a moment you think they are there to ask if you've decided on a new identity.<br/>
<br/>
But then: <i>Oh, right. They think I really am Lindsay.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you greet them. "What's wrong with you?" you ask Paulina, who is frowning at you hard.<br/>
<br/>
Her frown deepens, and Bhodi glances around with an embarrassed look on his face. "You ran out on Andrew yesterday," Paulina says. <br/>
<br/>
"I didn't run out on him," you protest.<br/>
<br/>
"He was going to get food with you! And you ran out on him and then you didn't come back!"<br/>
<br/>
"I had to go home, Paulina, I—"<br/>
<br/>
"He's really upset with you!"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself crumpling under her glare. Paulina is at least half-a-head taller than you, and though she hasn't Lindsay's Mack-truck-like power to run people over, she has something even more overwhelming. (At least, it overwhelms Lindsay.)<br/>
<br/>
She has a sense of her own superiority.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, jeez," you mutter, and hang your head. "I didn't mean to. Now, wait, screw that," you interrupt yourself. "I totally did. He was creeping on me."<br/>
<br/>
Paulina puts her hand on her hip. "He was not."<br/>
<br/>
"He was too. Look, I know you guys are all, like, trying to push him on me—"<br/>
<br/>
"We're not trying to push anybody, Lindsay! But he likes you! And if you're not, you know, interested in him—"<br/>
<br/>
"What did you say, Bhodi?" you interrupt, for he has muttered something under his breath.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing."<br/>
<br/>
"No, you said something. If you've got an opinion here—"<br/>
<br/>
But he just twists on his feet and turns a shoulder to you.<br/>
<br/>
"If you're not interested in Andrew," Paulina resumes, "you should be just very nice to him and tell him that, you know, you're not interested in going out with him."<br/>
<br/>
You hunch your shoulders up around your ears. "I'm not used to guys hitting on me," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"So is that the problem? Could you at least be <i>friends</i> with him?"<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. "I don't want to be more than that, I can tell you that much."<br/>
<br/>
Paulina sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, at least be friendly with him, then. Can't you? The rest of us— Him and Bhodi, I mean—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, fine, I can be friendly with him! But if you think that's going to turn into, you know—"<br/>
<br/>
"Then we'll tell him that's all it's going to be. Okay? Just don't be <i>mean</i> to him anymore."<br/>
<br/>
You bunch up  your fists. But in a small, tight voice, you promise that you won't be "mean" to Andrew Webb. "Now, can I go to my locker?" you add. "I think my backpack is compressing my spine."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." Having extracted that promise from you, Paulina is all smiles again. "See you in the library?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, whatever."<br/>
<br/>
But you don't go to the library after you leave your locker, you go out behind the school building to slump to the ground with your cell phone, and only after the first bell has rung do you slink off to your first class.<br/>
<br/>
At least Paulina, when she sees you again, is smart enough not to say anything about how you skipped out on her and all her new friends.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
While you were hiding out before classes, you texted fake-Dane; and at lunch you tell Michael that you want a ride home with him. But that's just a cover story, and after school the two of you drive out to Dane's trailer. He lets you in and gives you his phone when you demand it, so you can text Paulina to tell her that you and Caleb have settled on new identities. He has decided against becoming a member of Los Scorchicos and chosen Matthew Adams, a member of the swim team, instead. As for you—<br/>
<br/>
But when you check Dane's phone, you see there's a text on it from a name you don't recognize: Joe Durras. <i>Hey man, tried catching up to you after school but sorry I missed you. Trying to score a little recreational fun, okay if I stop by your place?</i><br/>
<br/>
"What's this?" you ask fake-Dane.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, guess that must'a come in while I was driving back." He squints at the message. "Beats me. What's he looking for, some weed?"<br/>
<br/>
"What else would he be looking for?" you retort. "Well, let's get rid of him."<br/>
<br/>
But after tapping back a message telling him that you're busy and can't meet up, you get another reply: <i>lol sorry on way now just gimme one minute pls.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, let's get out of here," you tell Michael, who is playing a game on his own phone, and grab your back pack.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"That guy's on his way over. I can't get caught here, not like this."<br/>
<br/>
He jerks his arm out of your hand and bends back over his phone. "So switch faces with the Danester," he says. "You need to get under that mask anyway, for when Paulina and them bring your new body out."</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132241122111123112
author_id: seuzz
title: Blasts from the Past
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Before you can reply to Michael's suggestion, Dane's phone dings with a text from Paulina. After reading it, you grab Michael by the arm. "Come <i>on.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey! I'm—!"<br/>
<br/>
"That was Paulina. She says we're not getting new faces till tomorrow. Let's get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"What? So why'd you drag me out here if we're not—?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos I <i>thought</i> they could get them for us this afternoon." You yank open the door to the trailer. "Are you coming?"<br/>
<br/>
Michael makes a face. "All right! You need to chill, <i>Lindsay,</i>" he says. "You need to—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Bite me,</i> you almost snarl back at him. But then a wickeder idea comes to you.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry," you say, and step up close to him. "I sometimes forget that—" You put your arms around his skinny torso and bury your face in his flannel hoodie. "I'm so mean to you sometimes, Michael, and here you are with such a <i>hard on</i> for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Eyaugh!" He pushes you away and jumps back, eyes popping and breathing hard. "Jesus, man!"<br/>
<br/>
"Serves you right. But come on. I'll make it up to you in the car."<br/>
<br/>
Maybe Caleb takes that as a threat, because he hangs back, and circles warily around the front of the car even after you're squatting in the passenger seat with your cell phone out. He gives you a slit-eyed, sidelong look.<br/>
<br/>
And he doesn't relax until you confess that by "making it up to him," you mean that you want to buy him a chocolate shake at the nearest Dairy Queen.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've just finished at the DQ and are thinking about heading back home when you get a text from fake-Dane: <i>jesus man got to talk.</i> When you ask him what it's about, he just repeats that he wants—no, he <i>needs</i>—you to come back out.<br/>
<br/>
There's a wild look on his face when he meets you out in the yard. In fact, he's trembling.<br/>
<br/>
"It was that guy who came out here," he say after you're back inside with him. "Fuck me, fellas," he continues as he glances between you and Caleb, "but I think we're in trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"This about the guy who wanted to buy some weed?" Caleb frowns. "Shit, is he some kind of dealer?"<br/>
<br/>
Fake-Dane gives  him a wide-eyed look. "I don't know what he is. But he—" He falls onto the dumpy, smelly sofa and buries his face in his hands. "Does anyone else," he asks in a pained voice from between his fingers, "know about what's going on? I mean, uh, about the masks and what you all guys are doing with them?"<br/>
<br/>
A chill, like a column of frigid air, rushes down your spine. "Not unless someone's been talking," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just tell us what happened," Caleb says. He drums an impatient finger on his knee.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. So this guy gets here just after you left," fake-Dane says after taking a deep breath. He cradles his folded hands between his knees. "There was two of them, actually. Big dudes, both of them, like wrestlers or football players. The one who texted me was all smiles and shit, started by joking about some parties he was wanting to hit and if I was going to be there, asking me about my stash and where I get it and how he could get some and if I'd sell him some of mine. The other guy—they said they were brothers, but they didn't look like each other—he just leaned up against the wall there by the door and stared at me.<br/>
<br/>
"So I started getting a really bad vibe," he continues, "'cos I'm wondering if they're really cops or something. The one by the door especially, he didn't look like he was interested in getting stoned or nothing. But the other one, he just kept talking and joking and stuff until—"<br/>
<br/>
His face twists up. "I don't what I said, or what I didn't say, but it was the wrong thing whatever it was, 'cos suddenly they both got real quiet. Or, the one who was talking got real quiet, and he gave me a look like the other one was giving me. Like—"<br/>
<br/>
A pale smile jerks at his lips. "You know how Dad looks at us," he says to you, "when we're in a shitload of trouble?"<br/>
<br/>
Your first thought is that your dad never gives you a look like that, though your mom frequently does. Then you realize that he's talking about the father that you and he share: Harris Prescott. You suppress a small shiver as you remember the kind of cold glower that he freezes you with when he catches you at something you shouldn't have been doing.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know what I said," fake-Dane goes on, "but they both suddenly just froze up on me. Then they wanted to talk about the basketball team. Which was a weird change of subject 'cos—"<br/>
<br/>
"What were you talking about before that?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing important." He shrugs. "Jokes and shit like that. Dirty jokes, mostly. But then—" <br/>
<br/>
He catches himself, and blinks, and blinks again. Then he says, "My name. That's what he asked me. And then, like, they froze me out."<br/>
<br/>
"Your name?" Caleb says. His brow furrows. "Didn't he know your name when he—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah! But then he was, like, 'Dane, right, you're name's Dane?' and I said yeah, and then boom! Wall of ice just drops between us.<br/>
<br/>
"And then," he continues as you and Caleb exchange puzzled glances, "then he starts talking about the basketball team. And this is where it gets weird, and why I'm asking if someone's been talking or someone knows about what's going on, 'cos they say <i>they're</i> on the basketball team 'cos they moved over from Eastman and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, hey, wait a minute?" Caleb interrupts. "It's <i>those</i> guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"What guys?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Two guys from Eastman, they changed schools, moved out here."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"What I just said!" He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling and tapping at it. "These guys, brothers, they were on the Eastman team, but they changed schools and were gonna join our team."<br/>
<br/>
"You pay attention to that stuff?" you demand. "Who are you and what did you do with Caleb Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a look. "Yeah, well, you're making a joke, <i>Lindsay,</i> but Michael actually follows this stuff, so I know what it's about. Fuck me, but his friend Luke— Luke Bryant, you know? He's been spazzing out about it, so I've been having to spazz out about it too when him and me are together. Here." He shows you the phone. "That's them."<br/>
<br/>
It's a photo of two guys, one blonde and one dark, in basketball jerseys. The blonde must have been the talker fake-Dane was telling you of, for in the photo he's got a wide grin on his face, and his eyes glint, while the other one lances the camera lens with a cold stare. They both look very buff.<br/>
<br/>
"So they start talking about the team," fake-Dane resumes, "and they start talking about Gordon, 'cos the squad had these tryouts to replace him and they were redoing the whole squad. And Gordon, well, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" It suddenly begins to make sense. "They talked to Gordon," you tell Caleb. "The guy who looks like Gordon, you know, but who's really Dane!" <i>Shit.</i> In all the confusion and plans you'd almost forgot about the original body-swaps that got you into this mess in the first place. "They must'a talked to Gordon to find out why he dropped off the squad—"<br/>
<br/>
"And Dane finally turned loose," Caleb finishes for you, "and told them he's really—"<br/>
<br/>
But he breaks off with a frown. "But he's turned into a total pot-head, so why would they pay any attention to what he says? And would he say to them? 'I used to be Dane Matthias but someone body-swapped me with Gordon Black'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he told them because they're new to school," you suggest. "Maybe it's easier to tell someone you don't know something like than to tell someone you do know."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would they believe him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who says they did?" you retort. "Maybe they just came out here 'cos they wanted to goof off with Dane here and see what <i>he</i> says about it all. What did you say?" you ask fake-Dane. "You bluffed 'em, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course! I'm not an idiot!"<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the problem?" you ask, looking between the other two. "So I guess Dane broke down and told these guys he's got these delusions, but if you bluffed them—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but I ain't got to what happened after I 'bluffed' them." The color fades from fake-Dane's face. "That's when the <i>stuff</i> started happening."<br/>
<br/>
"What stuff?" You get another of those cold air masses falling down your spine. <br/>
<br/>
The scared look returns to his face. "Well, they started pushing at me," he says. "The guy started talking about Gordon and Gordon's life, and why maybe he wanted to just say 'fuck it' to his dad and to sports and to school, and I'm just trying to nod along, even when he says that maybe Gordon would like to have my kind of life and maybe would even want to steal it." He licks his lips. "Then he said, 'You didn't steal Dane's life, did you, Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dudes were really taking Dane seriously," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"But then when I just laughed and told them that <i>I</i> was Dane and who'd want my life, then—"<br/>
<br/>
He points to a lamp that is lying on the floor. "That thing came flying at me."<br/>
<br/>
You start. "Wait, they started <i>throwing</i> things at you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! It just rose up and flew at me! They were on the other side of the room when it happened."<br/>
<br/>
He licks his lips. "And then stuff started falling out of the kitchen cabinets. Go take a look for yourself. And the other one, the one who wasn't talking, he looks at me all hard like and says, 'It's a bad idea to let magic loose. Because once you let it loose, sometimes it <i>stays</i> loose'."</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322411221111231122
author_id: seuzz
title: Twenty-Five Places to Hide
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>No one says anything for a long moment. Then Caleb says, "You're telling me that things started flying around? Like, in of a poltergeist movie?"<br/>
<br/>
Fake-Dane, his eyes wide, nods. "That's exactly what it was like. Like, the table in there?" He half turns to look back into the dining nook, where a rickety table—about as substantial as balsa wood—is leaning against the wall. "It just flew up and banged around and fell over."<br/>
<br/>
"And what did those guys say?"<br/>
<br/>
"They didn't say nothing. They just looked at me, like there was nothing going on, like they didn't even see it."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb gets up and stalks into the kitchen. You hesitate, then trot after. Fake-Dane remains where he is.<br/>
<br/>
The kitchen looks like it's been torn apart by a drunk. Or by demons. The cabinet doors hang open, and most of their contents have been hurled to the floor. The drawers dangle open, and a tray of silverware has been flung over the floor. An overturned carton of milk has burst and drained into a small puddle. You pull open the refrigerator door; everything inside it has been knocked over.<br/>
<br/>
But it looks hardly worse than Dane's bedroom, which is almost as great of a mess.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're going to have a job cleaning it up," you tell Fake-Dane when you join him back in the living room.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all you got to say?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want me to say? Whatever's going on, we gotta think about it," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes bulge. "What's to think about?"<br/>
<br/>
"So what happened after stuff started flying around?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, those start talking some more about how magic is dangerous when it gets loose, and that if let anything magical out that I'll need their help getting it put back."<br/>
<br/>
"And you said?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told them I didn't know what they were talking about! I mean, I don't know anything about magic or ghosts or shit. Right?" He giggles nervously. "At least, that's what I told them."<br/>
<br/>
"And then?"<br/>
<br/>
Fake-Dane draws a deep breath. "So then the blonde one asks me if I've ever seen a book, about this big"—he gestures with his hands—"with red covers and gold lettering and on the inside it's got magic spells about how to make magic disguises." His cocks his eye triumphantly at you, as if to say, <i>Toldja you're in deep shit.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Holy fuck," Caleb mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"I told 'em no," Fake-Dane says. "I don't know if I was real convincing. The guy looked <i>pissed</i> when I told him that."<br/>
<br/>
"Anything else happen?"<br/>
<br/>
He combs his hair with his fingers. "No, they took off after that. But the tall one looked back in at me from the door, and he says, 'We'll talk about it some more tomorrow.'" He looks between you and Caleb. "So what do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb exchange a long glance. Then you say, "I think you need to clean this place up."<br/>
<br/>
"Be serious!"<br/>
<br/>
"I am serious. And it'll keep you busy while we figure something out. Just hang tight," you add as fake-Dane grumbles. "We'll get back to you tonight. Or maybe tomorrow, after those guys come see you again."<br/>
<br/>
He pales. "You think they will?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll see 'em at school at least." You turn toward the door.<br/>
<br/>
But Caleb has one last instruction for Fake-Dane: "And if you do see them, don't come looking for us. Just wait for us to find you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As you leave, you worry that those two guys might be lying in wait. They aren't, though, it looks like, for no one tries to stop you or follow you.<br/>
<br/>
It's all very mysterious, for that reason it seems like something you don't want to deal with. That's what you tell Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you don't want to figure out how they did that shit back there at Dane's trailer?" he asks. "Hell, don't you want to <i>be</i> someone who can do that kind of shit?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"We can make masks, Will. We can turn ourselves into other people. Maybe turn ourselves into guys who can do that kind of shit?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, then shake your head. "We can make masks, but what if they got protections. We could do this stuff with Ethan and Michael and Lindsay and them 'cos, you know, they're just a bunch of dumb sophomores. But these guys sound way too serious, way too prepared. You heard Dane, they know about the book. Ten to one," you press on over some objection he's about to raise, "they know how the masks work, maybe they even have a way of figuring out if someone's wearing a mask or isn't. I don't want to get anywhere close to them."<br/>
<br/>
"If they can figure out who's wearing a mask, then we're already fucked, aren't we? Unless you want to start putting things back the way they were."<br/>
<br/>
Again you hesitate, and again you shake your head. Maybe Caleb and the other guys can go back to being themselves, but it's too late for you, your life is too screwed up on account of that swap you did with Gordon Black. "Let's just keep where we are for now," you say. "They won't be looking for us down in the sophomore class."<br/>
<br/>
"They could still spot us in the halls," Caleb points out. "If they got X-ray vision," he adds, sounding only half sarcastic.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Speaking of places to hide in the sophomore class, you've still got to make a decision on a new identity. Although you thought you had settled on one, the news from Fake Dane has blown your calculations apart.<br/>
<br/>
You could still hide out as one of the musicians—which is where you were leaning anyway—but once you're back home you look back over the others candidates in light of today's developments.<br/>
<br/>
You're strongest instinct is to hide, and the best place to hide, it seems to you, is as a girl. Lindsay herself would probably be the best choice—being plain, uninvolved in sports or extra-curricular activities, and self-effacing to the point of self-loathing—but you've already told the others you want to move to a new face.<br/>
<br/>
But none of the girls on Paulina's list comes close to having Lindsay's advantages—they're all too extroverted. Riley Petersen is a bright-eyed girl with a tomboyish streak; Alice Meehan and Kelly O'Brien aren't just tomboyish, they also play on the girls' JV basketball and softball squads, respectively.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's the two rich girls: Amber Hartsel and Madison Crawford, who come to class in ensembles that probably cost more than all the clothes than Lindsay has ever owned in her life put together. Amber lives in the country on a horse farm; Madison is a snooty bitch who is on the swim team and gymnastics teams, and clearly plans on captaining the cheerleader squad when she's a senior. Neither they, nor Courtney Blessing of the softball team nor Miranda Estrada of the soccer team could count as "invisible."<br/>
<br/>
You'd have more choices if you decided to hide out as someone with a penis, though these also run to type. Aaron James, Matthew Adams, and Kieran Matthews are "too cool for school" types with snazzy haircuts and a smooth line with the girls, to which Kieran adds an evangelist's enthusiasm for hemp. Dylan Gilbert is a skinny, lank-haired skateboarder. Cole Kavanaugh is a member of the JV football squad; Jan Taylor is a more thuggish member of the same; Andrew Bean combines the party-hearty cool of a guy like Matthew Adams with the athleticism of a soccer player. There's even a weird choice that Paulina has included, the male equivalent of Riley Petersen: Jared Cochrane, who in Lindsay's opinion is a tall, grinning goofus who would be a natural playmate of Joe and Grant and Justin and the others if he weren't so annoying. But like Riley, he's a social butterfly.<br/>
<br/>
The five juniors that Paulina has included run a gamut all by themselves. Jason Rowe is a football player. Zion Barber is a basketball player <i>and</i> a member of the student council. Owen Hubble plays in the marching band, as does Mackenzie Fuller, but Owen (unlike Mackenzie) and hangs out with lowlifes at the portables. Alexis Lachance is another rich somebody at the center of a social circle in the junior class.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224112211112312
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Suspect Behavior by Sophomores and Seniors
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's an intriguing idea: Pulling the sophomore guys you're now friends with up into the senior class, where you could take over and manipulate some of the gangs up there. And the more you think about it, the more you like it.<br/>
<br/>
So you call Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" he says when he answers. <br/>
<br/>
You can barely hear him over a buzzing noise. "What's that sound?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"'ushing my teeth," he mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"It sounds like you're running an electric shaver."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a'lectric 'oot'rush."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, are you trying to <i>talk</i> to me <i>and</i> brush your teeth at the same time?"<br/>
<br/>
"'at's 'ot I 'aid, 'indzy."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Well then just listen, if you can hear me. I've got an idea for something to do with the masks, I wanna know if you like it and if you think we could sell it to the guys." He grunts, and you tell him your idea, reminding him of what he said about you and him and your friends using the masks to take over and manage people in the senior class.<br/>
<br/>
"We can do that, with these guys, with Paulina and Bhodi and Joe and them," you conclude. "Do you think we could sell them on the idea?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," he says, and it's a lot easier to understand him, as he's rinsed his mouth out by now. "They don't know the people up in the senior class, they know the people in their class, and they probably don't want to move up or into some place they don't know. Listen, I gotta sign off in about ten seconds. I'm coming up on my phone curfew."<br/>
<br/>
"Your <i>phone curfew?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, no cell phone after ten o'clock."<br/>
<br/>
"What are Michael's parents, Mormon or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, they're just— Alright, alright!" he yells out. "I'm hanging up now! Bye, Lindsay, talk to you tomorrow." The line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
You look at your phone before tossing it away with a snort. You'll probably be just as glad as Caleb to see him housed inside a new identity.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Paulina and Bhodi are waiting out front when you arrive at school the next morning, and for a moment you think they are there to ask if you've decided on a new identity.<br/>
<br/>
But then: <i>Oh, right. They think I really am Lindsay.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you greet them. "What's wrong?" you ask Paulina, who is frowning at you hard.<br/>
<br/>
"You ran out on Andrew yesterday," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't run out on him!"<br/>
<br/>
"He was going to go get food with you, Lindsay! And you ditched him and then you didn't come back."<br/>
<br/>
"I had to go home, I—"<br/>
<br/>
"He's really upset with you!"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help crumpling a little under her glare. "He was totally creeping on me," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"He was not." She puts her hand on her hip. "Look, can you at <i>least</i> be nice to Andrew? If you're not interested in going out with him, can you at least <i>tell</i> him? In a nice way?" <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, alright," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"And can you be <i>friendly</i> with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, why is everyone suddenly friends with him?" you demand. You instantly regret it, but, helplessly, you follow it up with the obvious sequel, for you've let Lindsay's personality loose. "Up until a few days ago he was the biggest asshole in school, and everyone, especially <i>you</i>!" You punch Bhodi in the chest with a sharp fingertip. "Wanted to see him kiss a speeding locomotive. What's going on, all of a sudden?"<br/>
<br/>
Paulina pales, and so does Bhodi.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing's going on," Paulina stammers. "It's just we've— You know, we've kind of started hanging out with guys that he knows, so we're hanging out with him. And it turns out—" She rolls her shoulders. "He likes you. Is that so weird?"<br/>
<br/>
You glare. "It's <i>very</i> weird. But everything's been weird," you add darkly, "since Evie had her little adventure."<br/>
<br/>
Paulina bites her lip, and Bhodi looks like he wants to throw up.<br/>
<br/>
So this seems like a good place to end things, before they start to think that you—Lindsay Cho—have figured out that they're using the book and the masks to replace some of your schoolmates.<br/>
<br/>
"If you'll excuse me," you growl, "I need to go to my locker. My backpack is compressing my spine."<br/>
<br/>
They move aside to let you blunder past. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Paulina and all of them are gonna go out to Dane's tonight," Michael tells you after school. He's driving you again. "To talk about the plan, maybe do like you suggested, move everyone up to the senior class. So you're gonna have to get out to Dane's early, to switch into his mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. Come pick me up and take me out to supper?"<br/>
<br/>
He nods.<br/>
<br/>
You pause, waiting for the follow-up. "And?" you prod when he says nothing. "You said there were two things we needed to talk about."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, there was only that. The other thing's just a piece of gossip. I figure you're not interested."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, try me."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "Will Prescott tried out for the basketball squad yesterday. You know there were tryouts, because they have to reshuffle the team?"<br/>
<br/>
"I heard something about that," you allow. You feel cold all over. Gordon has your body now, so you suppose it makes sense he'd use it to try to get back on the team. But you can wait a long time before having to listen to Caleb gloat about how he humiliated himself.<br/>
<br/>
But that's not what he tells you. "He made it."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Will Prescott is now on the school basketball squad. Ain't that something?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's something," you admit, and that's all you can admit, too.<br/>
<br/>
"He's replacing Jeremy Richards."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What?"</i> Jeremy was an old friend in middle-school, before he turned into a beanpole and an asshole and decided to be a jock.<br/>
<br/>
"Yep. Gonna be interesting when we're all seniors again."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Dane grabs you by the collar and hauls you into his trailer. Then he grabs Michael by the shoulder and pulls him in to. He puts his head out, looks around, then slams the door shut and locks it. His eyes are wide, and his closely-shorn hair is bristling like a cat's.<br/>
<br/>
"Does anyone else know about what's going on?" he asks in a husky voice. "With the, you know, masks and everything." He waves his hand in front of his face.<br/>
<br/>
You blink at him, then look up at Michael. He returns your puzzled glance with one of his own.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you tell Dane. "Just those guys. You know. And Paulina, apparently." You make a face.<br/>
<br/>
A hard tremble passes through his shoulders. "What about those new guys? The one that moved over to our school from Eastman? Those basketball players?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you talking about?" Michael demands.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm talking about those basketball players! Joe and Frank Durras!"<br/>
<br/>
"Calm the fuck down," you snap at him. "Tell us what—"<br/>
<br/>
You break off as a hard spasm wracks the fake Dane's body, and his head almost twists off his shoulders. But his expression is calmer when he opens his eyes again. "Tell you what?" he asks. The fear has gone from his voice.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, that's interesting,</i> you think. Apparently you can set these things' moods as well as give them orders.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell us from the beginning," you instruct Dane. "Whatever you need to tell us about."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Right." You add a mental note to not use the mood-changing power any more than you have to.<br/>
<br/>
His story starts with a text he got immediately after school. It was from Joe Durras, a new student at WHS, just transferred from Eastman with his brother, Frank. The two are basketball players and are joining the Westside team, much to the excitement of many of the students at the school, because it's rare for one crosstown rival to poach players from the other.<br/>
<br/>
"He wanted to know if I had any weed I could sell or share," Dane says. "I told him I didn't, but he wanted to come over anyway, hang out. So—" He shrugs. "I told him to come on by."<br/>
<br/>
He sucks in his upper lip. "And it started off okay. One of 'em, Joe, he's all smiles and friendly and 'Dude, where you get your stash?' and 'Can you set me up with some too?' The other one's a lot quieter. Like, too quiet. Real intense. It started to give me a bad vibe, I'm wondering if maybe they're undercover cops or something."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what freaked out?" Michael asks. "They turn out to be cops?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what they are," Dane says, and a nervous edge creeps back into his voice. "But suddenly they just switched off on me. Like, Joe was all joking and laughing—we were playing with tongue-twisters, fuck me, it sounds kind of dopey, but we were—and then suddenly he just froze up on me. Got mad at me, almost. And then—"<br/>
<br/>
He twists around on his feet, to stare back into the kitchen/dinette. That's when you notice it looks like it's been ransacked, with cabinet doors open and dishes and food pulled out and scattered on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Then they start talking about the basketball team, and about Gordon," Dane says. "'Cos the squad had these tryouts to replace him and they were redoing the whole thing. 'Cos Gordon, well, you know, suddenly turned into a pothead."<br/>
<br/>
You nod. You've had some adventures since then, but you remember how they all started, with you turning Gordon Black into a copy of yourself, and Dane Matthias into a copy of Gordon. Dane, at least, kept his original personality after transforming into Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
"So they started talking about Gordon and Gordon's life, and why maybe he'd want to just say 'fuck it' to sports and to school, and that maybe he'd like to have my kind of life instead and maybe would even want to steal it." <br/>
<br/>
He licks his lips. "Then Joe says to me, 'You didn't steal Dane's life, did you, Gordon?'"</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132241122111123121
author_id: seuzz
title: Magic on the Loose?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You and Michael exchange another look. "Say that again," you tell Dane.<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. "The one guy, he says to me, 'You didn't steal Dane's life, did you, Gordon?' That's how come I'm asking, does anyone else know about these masks?" He looks between you and Michael. "Because why else would they think I'm Gordon and that I—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, on account of Dane," Michael interrupts him. "The real one." He looks down at you. "The one we shoved under Gordon's mask. They must'a got to talking to him," he continues as he pulls out his cell phone. "It's the new basketball players you said, right? Joe and Frank Durras? So they're probably interested in Gordon and what happened to him. Fuck, probably the squad back at Eastman are wondering how come he flamed out the way he did."<br/>
<br/>
Dane's brow furrows. "But they asked me, like, if I stole his life! If I was Gordon, and if I stole Dane's life!"<br/>
<br/>
"Like, if you and Dane switch bodies," Michael says.<br/>
<br/>
"But where'd they get the idea—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" Michael punches you in the shoulder. "Will, please tell me you're smarter than this moron? He's supposed to have your brain under that face, and I'd hate to think you're as dazed and confused as he is."<br/>
<br/>
In truth, you're almost as lost as "Dane" is. But dimly you think you begin to see the outlines of what Caleb is thinking.<br/>
<br/>
"So you think these guys went and talked to Dane," you say. "To the guy who looks like Gordon Black. And he told them—"<br/>
<br/>
"He told them he's really Dane Matthias and he doesn't know how he wound up with Gordon Black's body," Michael says. He holds up his phone to show you the screen. It shows a photo from a news site or something, showing guys in Eastman uniforms practicing in a gym. "So they come out here to see what 'Dane' has to say about it. What did you tell them?" he asks robo-Dane. "After they said that thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just laughed it off. I said, like, who'd want my life?" He spreads his arm to take in the dumpy trailer.<br/>
<br/>
But you're concentrating on Michael's phone. "What's this?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It's the guys who were out here. Right?" Michael shows the screen to Dane, who nods. "Joe and Frank Durras."<br/>
<br/>
You take phone from him to study it closer. Joe is blonde, with a golden tan, with biceps and thighs and calves that would look more plausible on a wrestler. Frank is dark-haired, with a lither build. Even in mid-scrimmage, both are very photogenic, and Lindsay's brain tells you they're both strikingly good-looking.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I have to get into Dane's mask anyway," you say as you hand the phone back to Michael. "The rest of the guys'll be here pretty soon. Anything you want to ask Dane, you can ask me after I'm back in the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"You won't have the memories, not until later," he points out.<br/>
<br/>
"Then we'll talk about it later. I don't have to go home as Lindsay tonight. And maybe I should make it a permanent switch back over to Dane, at least until we start moving guys up into the senior class."<br/>
<br/>
"Moving what guys?" Dane asks.<br/>
<br/>
But you grab him by the shoulders and push him toward the hall leading to his bedroom. "You'll know what it's all about," you remind him, "when I'm you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you almost call Paulina and the others to cancel after you've seen Dane's afternoon with your own eyes, so to speak.<br/>
<br/>
His description really didn't convey just how overpowering his visitors were in person. Joe—blonde, bright, voluble, with a blinding smile and a bell-like laugh—was almost aggressively good-natured. He slapped and squeezed at you (robo-Dane), pronounced the messy house "radically lived-in", and almost wept when you said you couldn't set him up with any weed. He kicked back and started telling dirty jokes about some of the girls at Westside, and asking which ones you thought were the hottest of the hot, and nudging and teasing you about which ones you'd scored with. He offered to go out and get some beer for you all, and groaned when you declined his offer to bring out all his Eastman pals so you could throw a kick-ass party on this school night.<br/>
<br/>
And then he abruptly shut down on you.<br/>
<br/>
You (robo-Dane) weren't paying a lot of attention when it happened. You were exchanging tongue-twisters with him when the smile fell off his face. His eyes, which shone like the bluest summer sky, turned as hard and cold as an iceberg.<br/>
<br/>
He turned into a copy of his brother, in other words.<br/>
<br/>
Frank was taller than Joe, and a lot more reserved. He hung back, saying nothing while Joe chattered and joked at you, and you had the uneasy feeling from his stare that he would very much like to peel your face and skin off to see what was underneath. He was dark and hooded, both in his face and his manner, and your own jokes bounced off him like pebbles off a stone wall. <br/>
<br/>
Then the floor lamp went flying at your face. You were seated on the living room sofa, and again you flinch as you look down now at where it lies, broken near your feet.<br/>
<br/>
No one touched it or grabbed it. It was on the other side of the room from both you and your visitors, when on its own it flung itself at your head. You cried out and ducked, and it missed you, but you felt the breeze as it went past. When you looked back up again, both your visitors were glaring at you.<br/>
<br/>
Then the kitchen exploded. Cabinet doors flew open, and dishes and food blasted out. Drawers jumped out, dumping silverware and utensils all over. The refrigerator door flew back, and the food leaped off the racks and fell to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
When it all stopped, Frank said, <i>It's a bad idea to let magic loose. Because once you let it loose, sometimes it </i>stays<i> loose.<br/>
<br/>
Holy shit holy shit holy shit,</i> is what you replied. At least, you've impression that's what robo-Dane said.<br/>
<br/>
<i>We can help you stopper it back up again,</i> Joe said, and like his brother he betrayed no surprise at the poltergeist-like explosion in the trailer. <br/>
<br/>
Then he asked you if you'd ever seen a book about <i>this big</i> (he'd gestured with his hands) bound in red leather with gold lettering, containing magic spells for making magical disguises.<br/>
<br/>
At least robo-Dane had the guts to tell him <i>No,</i> and stuck to his denials even when Joe's eyes blazed up in flame.<br/>
<br/>
They got up to leave. But at the door Frank turned around and said, <i>'We'll talk about it some more tomorrow.</i><br/>
<br/>
Yes, after reviewing all of that mentally, you come real close to cancelling the meeting with Paulina and the others.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you're too slow to dig out the phone, and before you're even ready there's a hard bang on the door. It's Andy Webb and Ethan Clayborne, arriving early. They chortle over the mess after they're inside, and so does Kaylee Mercier. But Paulina turns up her nose when she and Bhodi arrive with Gabriela Costa (really Joseph Dickerson) who you've not met yet. Michael rounds out the attendance.<br/>
<br/>
As Caleb had warned you, Andy and Justin are only lukewarm on the idea of trading in their new identities for ones in the senior class. Joseph doesn't offer an opinion (the girl he's pretending to be is already a senior), but Grant nearly comes out of Kaylee's skin when Caleb suggests that he could turn himself into Chelsea Cooper, the captain of the cheerleader squad. And Paulina and Bhodi are both strongly in favor of making the switch.<br/>
<br/>
So it's the enthusiasm of Bhodi and Paulina and Grant that carries the others along. Justin is the most resistant—being Ethan Clayborne must be a really sweet deal for him—but you jolly him along with suggestions of some of the senior athletes he could turn himself into.<br/>
<br/>
"And no one says you can't turn yourself back into Ethan at some point," Caleb tells him. "Your new guys'll graduate next May, move on and up out of the school. You can go back to your guy then"—he chucks his chin at Ethan—"when he's a junior. Or, I dunno." He shrugs. "You can turn yourself into one of the new seniors and save Ethan for when he's a senior."<br/>
<br/>
"Are we going to be these people for the rest of the school year?" Kaylee asks, sounding awed. Before you can answer, she pumps her fist and shouts "Yes!"<br/>
<br/>
"So who are we gonna be?" Ethan rumbles. "I mean, none of us know anyone in the senior class."<br/>
<br/>
But they do, as Bhodi points out. He knows Marc Garner and Austin Dougherty and other guys on the varsity soccer squad. In his guise as Ethan, Justin knows the senior wrestlers. Gabriela, of course, is already a senior, and can make suggestions. Names are soon flying.<br/>
<br/>
And it distresses you a little to realize that many of them are names of people you really don't know all that well. You sit back to listen.<br/>
<br/>
But when Andy suggests "the new guys from Eastman," you summon Caleb into the kitchen with a crook of the finger.<br/>
<br/>
"Two questions," you tell him. "First, where's Dane's mom?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's not interested," he tells you. "She says she's staying as Leslie, period."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug at that. "Second, these guys from Eastman, the ones that were out here today. You think maybe we should include them?"<br/>
<br/>
Michael rears back. "You mean ask them to join the body-swap party?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! I mean, should they be someone we should swap with? You and me, I mean. It seems like they know something."<br/>
<br/>
Michael gnaws his lower lip.<br/>
<br/>
"Might be a good idea," he muses, even without your telling him the rest of what happened to robo-Dane. "Even if they don't know anything—and you know, Will, how could they?—the school's already losing its shit over them. They're gonna be two of the most popular guys we could pick."</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322411221111231211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Reunion of Fakes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Then those'll be our guys," you tell Michael, and nudge him into following you back out to rejoin the others. "Even if it's nothing— Well, I'd like to keep an eye on Gordon. The real one."<br/>
<br/>
"Gonna be interesting," he mutters back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It doesn't take long for most of the kids—and you can hardly keep from thinking of them as kids, so awkward and puppy-like are they as they clamber over each other to share photos they've found on their cell phones—to make some decisions. Grant, for instance, is gleefully covetous of Chelsea Cooper, and is only anxious that his other friends pick bodies that will complement her. Bhodi and Paulina are also pretty quick to choose Marc Garner and his girlfriend, Hannah Westrick, which makes sense given that Bhodi knows Marc through the soccer program. For much the same kind of reason, Justin decides to take the body and identity of Laurent Delacroix, the captain of the wrestling team. But the rest—Andy and Joe ad Evie—want to wait until their friends are moved and can offer better suggestions before deciding themselves.<br/>
<br/>
One reason they're quick to decide is that you subtly push them along, and you also push them out the door as quickly as you can without making it look suspicious. Caleb, of course, can guess what you're doing.<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna invite those guys out here and try making the switch tonight, aren't you?" he says after the others are gone.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you reply. "We'll try it tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why are you hustling us all out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I gotta do some thinking about how we want to do this."<br/>
<br/>
"So let's order pizza or something, and we'll—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you need to go off with the other guys, <i>Michael</i>. You need to keep close to Lindsay, keep her from accidentally saying something."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb gives you a very narrow look. "Alright, <i>Dane,</i>" he retorts. "Just don't burn out a ball bearing or something while you're plotting and planning. You don't got that many to spare."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. I'll talk to you later." You push him out the trailer door and shut it in his face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You were not in fact lying when you told Caleb that you plan to wait until tomorrow to move on the Durras brothers. But you want to make another move of your own first.<br/>
<br/>
You start by trudging back to Dane's bedroom. It's a mess, and not just on account of the filthy clothes and crusted-over plates and books and papers that are stacked on every surface. There's masks <i>everywhere.</i><br/>
<br/>
Grayish-white masks, polished blue masks, and masks halfway from one state to another. They are stacked on the desk and scattered on the floor, and two of them are even propped up on a bookshelf, staring at you. There's a car buffer in the corner, still plugged in, with a half-finished mask abandoned next to the pad.<br/>
<br/>
And there's metal bands scattered by the handful around as well, shining with an oily light. Most of them, though, are at the bottom of a moldy cardboard box propped against the closet door, mixed in with two fresh-looking, grayish-white masks.<br/>
<br/>
It makes you shiver to look at it. <i>A factory for doppelgangers is what it is,</i> you think. The Danester, behind his glazed and friendly grin, has used his bedroom as an armory to make ... <i>things</i> ... that will enable you to conquer the high school by duplicating and controlling the student body.<br/>
<br/>
Well, it was Caleb's doing, actually. These are the masks and things that you made at the Donna. They were almost all of them raw and unfinished when you moved into Dane's trailer, and you left them behind when you ran off to be Lindsay Cho. But Caleb came out here—<br/>
<br/>
You have to concentrate to penetrate the hazy memories.<br/>
<br/>
Friday night. Yeah, last Friday night, when you (as Lindsay) were at that party where Andy turned himself into Andrew. The others were going to need more masks, so Caleb and "Dane" finished up enough for your sophomore colleagues.<br/>
<br/>
And then robo-Dane got bored over the weekend and on his own initiative (maybe because he has your brain now) starting polishing up some more. He even got robo-Caleb to come out and help and they got some more runework carved into some of those metal bands while they—<br/>
<br/>
It gives you a queer turn as you think back to that weekend, for you're wearing Dane's mask and can remember it all now.<br/>
<br/>
<i>As they gossiped and speculated about what their originals were getting up to, and chortled and snickered at the thought of you and Caleb, in the bodies of Lindsay and Michael, humping each other into screaming orgasms.</i><br/>
<br/>
You shake your head free of the filthy jokes they told and concentrate at the work at hand. Robo-Dane didn't keep close track of the numbers, so you don't know how many items got made. So you pull it all together—and move a lot of the mess out of the bedroom, to dump in with the mess in the kitchen—and when you've done the tally you find that you've got three brain bands and six masks ready to be used.<br/>
<br/>
But you only need one brain band for the plan you've come up with.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It takes you awhile before you can talk to him, because you have to text a couple of Dane's friends before you track down a number to call him at, and then he's not there. It's after eight before your cell rings, and you're able to talk to the guy who these days is looking like Gordon Black. A very stoned and party-addled Gordon Black, by the sound of it.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude!" he cries, and his deep voice wells over with delight. "We finally connect! You've been ghosting me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sorry about that, man." Your heart is beating hard, because you've no idea if he's with anyone, and what he might say in front of them. "Where are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Back home. Yeah, I been crashing with Maize Tsosie since—" He giggles. "Oh, fuck me, man, we got so much to catch up on!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, how about you come over and we can talk?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you come over here! Maize is here, and we can get Justin and Adrian and make a big party of it!"<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanna talk to you. Alone. About what happened, with us."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit, they all know, man, they're cool with it!"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart goes sideways in your chest. <i>They know?</i> Dane told them about the body swap?<br/>
<br/>
But you should kick yourself for being surprised. Of course he told them.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you wanna come see your old place?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! Okay," he exclaims after a moment's thought. "Yeah, that'd be— Hey Maize! Pack it up, we're takin' it over to my old place! You know, where I lived back when I was—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, no! Just you, man! I wanna talk to <i>you!</i> Like a brother, just you and me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." Gordon giggles. "Sure, okay. Um. I'm gonna need a ride."<br/>
<br/>
"I can come pick you up. Where are you?"<br/>
<br/>
He tells you he's at Shep Tsosie's, and where that is. You tell him you'll be along as soon as you can. "Oh, wow!" he exclaims. "This is gonna be a <i>trip!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Shep Tsosie lives way south of town, south even of Acheson, in a shack down close to the river. He and Gordon are standing out front in the deep dusk of the evening when you pull up. By the looks of it, they're passing a doobie back and forth as they wait.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, man," Gordon says as he leans over to put his head in through the passenger-side window to chat at you. "Come on in! We got some people comin' over, and they—"<br/>
<br/>
"Get in, man," you urge. "This is important, I wanna talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon laughs asthmatically, and glances back over his shoulder at Shep, who shrugs. (It's otherwise impossible to read his expression in the dark.) "Yeah, okay," Gordon says. He opens the car door and heaves himself inside. "You know, maybe I should drive, 'cos it's really—"<br/>
<br/>
You put the pedal to the metal and peel out. Gordon guffaws with delight.<br/>
<br/>
On the way back to town you ask him about Joe and Frank Durras, and if they came out to see him at Maize's. <i>Naw,</i> he tells you, he's just hung out with 'em at school, talked to them. Joe was a lot of fun, he says, and they were real interested in what he had to tell them about— He nudges you. <i>That thing that happened with us.</i><br/>
<br/>
He of course wants to know what you've been up to, and how come you've ghosted him. "You're not mad," he asks, "'cos I got you kicked off the squad, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, that's fine," you assure him. "I didn't even want to be on it."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" He chortles. "Is that how come you, uh, did the thing with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. You looked like you were having fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I'm having fun now," he says. "I'm gettin'— Well, um, I got you busted up with Chelsea." His tone turns a little fearful. "Sorry about that too."<br/>
<br/>
"It's alright. You been scoring any pussy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you know it!" He slaps his palm on a meaty knee. "Hooooo-<i>man!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What were you doing out at Shep Tsosie's place?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm livin' there. Oh, <i>fuck!</i>" He covers his face with his hands and hunches over. "I fucked that up for you too!"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yer dad. He kicked me outta the house."<br/>
<br/>
"He what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I'm so sorry!" He snuffles. "I fucked up everything for you, man! Your house, your girl, your spot on the squad—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's alright."<br/>
<br/>
"I just— I just don't know how to <i>be</i> you!"<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna switch back?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" He sounds surprised.<br/>
<br/>
"Switch back. You and me. You can be Dane again. I'll be me again."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you serious? But I fucked everything up for you!"<br/>
<br/>
"I can fix it. It's no big deal."<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224112211112312111
author_id: seuzz
title: Dane, Gelded
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Gordon Black—who is actually Dane Matthias—doesn't immediately reply to your offer to give him his life back. You ask him again: "What do you think, man? Switch back?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure," he says, though he sounds unsure.<br/>
<br/>
"Something wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well—" He squirms in his seat. "Yeah, okay."<br/>
<br/>
"There's something wrong? Something you want to tell me?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a couple of quick, sidelong glances. Then, in a rush, he says, "You know, I ain't never got laid as much as since, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." <i>Yeah, that makes sense,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
So you nudge him. "That's cool," you say. "That's great. Is that what's eating you? You don't want the pussy to dry up?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrinks down in his side of the car, which is hard for him, as he's a burly six-and-a-half feet of muscle. "Yeah?" he says in a small voice.<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay. Tell you what, we can share. Yeah!" you continue as he sits up. "We can switch off. I can be you and you can be me. On weekends, how about that? Or I'll let you be me on, oh, every other Saturday, so you can go out and—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"You'd do that for me?"</i><br/>
<br/>
His shout sets your head ringing. "Sure," you tell him. "You're my bud, you took care of things for me while I was taking a vacation."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, no, I wasn't taking care of nothing for you, I fucked things up—!"<br/>
<br/>
He protests all the way back to the trailer. But you can tell that he is gleeful at the thought of getting a share of Gordon Black's sex life while still getting to live his own.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The switchover takes place in the car while you're parked in front of Dane's trailer. It's an intricate affair, as you have to get Gordon's mask off of Dane, then while he is conked out you place one of the unused brain bands on his forehead. When that's done, you glue that brain band into Gordon's mask—to make a mask that looks like Gordon but has Dane's memories and personality—then seal it all up again with a golem paste that enslaves it to your will. You pop it back onto Dane before he wakes, so that it is Gordon sits up. "What was that?" he asks, but you tell him to be quiet and sit still.<br/>
<br/>
You then crawl into the back seat and pull Dane's mask off yourself. You're out for what feels like half the night before you groggily wake (but your phone says you were only out for the usual ten minutes), and then you make "Gordon," who is giving you very puzzled looks, sits still while you take his face off again. Onto the real Dane, with his shaggy mop of hair, goes the mask of robo-Dane, with his buzz cut. Robo-Dane, upon materializing in the front seat, turns around and blinks a couple of times at you. "Huh," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"You know what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares a moment, then says, "I think so. You—" He points to the mask of Gordon, which you are holding. "That's Gordon—"<br/>
<br/>
"Right."<br/>
<br/>
"But I— No, I guess it was you," he corrects himself. "You put the stuff in it and put it on Dane, to keep him quiet."<br/>
<br/>
"And so he wouldn't see it was me when I took the mask off."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. And then you put—" He touches his face gingerly, and rubs his hand over his buzz cut. "You put my face back onto Dane?"<br/>
<br/>
"You got it."<br/>
<br/>
"So what are you going to do with Gordon's mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you know?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "I know what I was doing, boss, but don't ask me what I was thinking. Does it have to do with those guys that—" He glances around with a fearful expression. "Came around to see me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yep. So make yourself scarce tomorrow. Go out to the Wilderness or someplace. Don't go to school, and don't come back until you hear from me."<br/>
<br/>
"When will that be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow afternoon, I hope."<br/>
<br/>
"And who will I hear from?"<br/>
<br/>
"One of those guys that was out here today."<br/>
<br/>
He blanches.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You give Dane the keys to the car and tell him to drive you back to Shep Tsosie's while you finish the change. During that drive you lay down in the back and put the Gordon/Dane-mask on. You are dizzy and discombobulated and a little carsick when you wake, and for a minute or two all you can do is meditate on the <i>fucking fine weed</i> that Maize scored. But by the time Dane pulls up in front of Maize's shack, you have recovered a sense of yourself. You're still woozy and a little giggly, though, as you clamber from the back of the car, and you get a massive head rush as you raise yourself to your full height of six-and-a-half feet.<br/>
<br/>
You grin inanely to yourself as you look down at your meaty hands—<i>They're like baseball mitts!</i> you marvel—and sway on your tree-trunk legs. <i>This is so awesome this will never stop being awesome, I'm so freaking big!</i> You wheel to lean in through the passenger side window to address Dane. "Thanks for the ride, bruh, I'll talk to you later and don't forget what I told you!"<br/>
<br/>
"I won't, boss," he says, and pulls away. You stumble back toward Maize's front door.<br/>
<br/>
There's soft music playing inside, a Mexican tune with guitars and a wailing tenor. But there's voices, too. It must be Justin Roth and whoever he found to come out on this Tuesday night. Justin was going to come out anyway, and Dane told him to bring people out with him. You lean against the doorframe before going in, trying to center your brain. You want to be "Dane"—the goofball who says he's Dane even though he looks like Gordon—but you don't want to be so "Dane-like" that you do something stupid. After you think you've found the spot—a head full of a light, giggle-inducing haze, like laughing gas—you bust in through the door with a roar.<br/>
<br/>
"This is the fucking po-lice!" you shout, "And all you are—" Then you force yourself to dissolve into a shower of giggles.<br/>
<br/>
It's only a small crowd, and they all round on you with terror on their faces. Even after they see it's only you, they look pale and scared. "Jesus Christ!" Justin gasps. He's perched atop the back of Maize's ratty sofa, his eyes bulging at you. "I fucking thought—!" He grabs his chest and topples backward, disappearing behind the sofa. There's a thump, and from the floor comes a roar of asthmatic laughter.<br/>
<br/>
Besides Justin there's Shep "Maize" Tsosie, standing in the narrow space between the sofa and kitchen; Kyle Kent, a muscle-y skateboarder with long, coarsely cut blonde hair and a face like a chimpanzee; Brianna Gould, a skinny party girl with stringy red hair and way too much face powder; and Adrian Semple, a stoner with shoulder-length dreadlocks the color and texture of a filthy mop.<br/>
<br/>
"Dane!" Adrian cries. "Dane!" shouts Kyle. Brianna grins in puzzlement at them. "What was that thing Gordon wanted to talk about?" Maize asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, he was just runnin' short on weed," you improvise. "Wanted to know if I had any extra. Rrrggh!" You growl down at Brianna, and scoop her up with a squeal into your arms. She seems astonishingly light, and you have to remind yourself that it's because you're astonishingly strong. "Who's little girl is this?" you ask as she laughs and shrieks in your arms. "And are they doing anything with her now?" You play-snap and play-bite and play-kiss at her face and neck as she thrashes with delight.<br/>
<br/>
You fall onto the sofa, so heavily that something inside it seems to snap—which would be unlucky, because that's where you will be sleeping tonight—and cradle Brianna. "Mmmmm!" You kiss her for real, and she kisses you back. "Miss me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know you were going to be here!"<br/>
<br/>
"Then why'd you come out? The only reason—" You pinch her hips and thighs. "For you. Or anyone. Any girl. To come out here. Is me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop it," she shrieks through her laughter. "Stop it!"<br/>
<br/>
It's Dane's Dane-as-Gordon act you've fallen into, almost without realizing it. Dane has told a lot of the people he hangs out with that he isn't Gordon Black, that he's Dane Matthias, and that him and Gordon had some kind of body swap. Why and how? <i>Dunno!</i> Usually he doesn't even bother to try acting like Gordon. But when there's girls around, he likes to act like he imagines a big, sexy, popular beast like Gordon would act. It started as a joke with one girl, but he's noticed that since he started it, lots and lots more girls have come looking for him. And he's been happy to put on the act with them ever since. Almost all of them have put out for him, or at least given him a blow job.<br/>
<br/>
So as the party continues, you split your attention between Brianna and the others. You don't bother getting off the couch—Maize and Justin bring you beer and weed and anything else you ask for—and balance Brianna in your lap as you laugh hoarsely and josh around with the others. But you keep your arms around her, and when you're not actually talking you dip in to kiss her on the side of the head or nose and stroke the back of her head, as though you're really paying attention to her and only sort-of-kind-of minding the others. Brianna melts into your lap like a hot fudge sundae left out in the sun. More and more you mind her, and the others less and less, until ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're woken with a grunt the next morning by someone pushing up off you. You crack your eyes open. Brianna, looking a complete mess, is staggering to her feet. You are sprawling on the sofa, on your back, with your shorts pulled halfway to your knees, and your t-shirt up around your pits and neck.<br/>
<br/>
"Wha' time'zit?" you ask Brianna.<br/>
<br/>
"A little after eight." She yawns and stretches. "You going in to school today?"<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132241122111123121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Morning Haze
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You feel half dead as you sprawl on the sofa in Shep Tsosie's living room. At least you don't have a hangover. You had the presence of mind last night to only drink beer and smoke a few joints, and not much even of that.<br/>
<br/>
Mainly because you had a girl in your lap and were more interested in her. You still have the memory of her hair in your face as you kissed and nuzzled her. And then of—<br/>
<br/>
You wince as you look up now at Brianna, who is straightening out the clothes she slept in. She looks a mess.<br/>
<br/>
You grunt and dig the heel of your hand into one eye and ask, "You gonna be in trouble for staying out all night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Prob'ly. Who gives a shit."<br/>
<br/>
"You going in to school?"<br/>
<br/>
"I am if you are."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Maize and them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Took off."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got up last night at one point and there was no one here."<br/>
<br/>
You lever yourself upright, pull up your shorts, and stagger onto your feet. You lurch around the house, looking in Maize's bedroom—bed unmade but empty—and in the bathroom. You shove back the broken blinds and squint out the window. No cars. "Looks like we're stuck here," you tell Brianna.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." She sounds insouciant, but she doesn't meet your eye. "What happened to your Bug?" That would be Gordon's vintage VW Bug. An odd little thing for him to drive, almost ridiculous. But it filled you with dread every time you saw it tooling into the parking lot, or parked by the gym.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon's dad's got it. He kept it when he kicked me out of the house. I been getting rides with Maize. So what are we gonna do? Where's your car?"<br/>
<br/>
"Justin picked me up." She still won't look at you, and even a guy as dense as you (or Dane (or the dumbbell that combines you)) can tell she doesn't especially want to hang out with you, even after sleeping with you and then spending the night, using you as a mattress. "I could call someone to come pick me up." She squints up at you sidelong. "You going in to school?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't have to, and you don't really feel like it. You are still exhausted from the night before, and you have Dane's exhaustion of the day before that. He hasn't dropped out of school yet—he's having too much fun there with his new body—but he's got an after-school and evening job (which Justin got him) at White Fang Outdoor Equipment that he can't afford to skip because it's the only way he can afford to eat and give Maize a little money to pay for the sofa he sleeps on.<br/>
<br/>
But your plan was to go into school and connect up with Caleb, then talk to those weirdos and lure them out to Dane's trailer for an ambush. But now you're tempted to just wait to do that after school. Those guys will have basketball practice, and you can go up to the school and talk to them as that's letting out.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but Dane hasn't got a cell phone anymore, so you can't coordinate with Caleb long-distance.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I should go in. I got nothing to do out here anyway."<br/>
<br/>
Brianna turns her back on you and starts tapping into her phone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're late for first period (a Spanish class of Gordon's that Dane inherited when you shoved him into Gordon's body), which is the only class of the morning that Dane ever attends, so you head straight back to the portables to hang out with the crowd there. You're astonished to see that Joe Durras, one of the guys you were going to look for, is back there, lounging on the grass with Cody Wooten and Jordan Fry. "Dane!" he cries out joyfully when you're still half a football field away. "Dane! Dane!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey guys," you greet them as you trudge up. "Anyone got a—?" You mime taking a hit off a doobie.<br/>
<br/>
"I do," Jordan says, and he reaches for his backpack.<br/>
<br/>
Joe giggles. "You get started awful early, man."<br/>
<br/>
You wrench Jordan's pack from him and paw through it yourself, pulling out books and dropping them to the ground. It's the kind of habit Dane has fallen into. Maybe he hasn't got Gordon's bullying instincts, but he can get away with a lot of shit thanks to Gordon's body, and has been. So from the pack you not only pull a little Ziploc baggie with three doobies in it, but a brown paper bag half-smushed by the books it shared a space with. "Hey!" Jordan cries, but he doesn't get up to stop you because, well, you're a small mountain of hard muscle. You drop the pack but keep the Ziploc and the paper bag, which you tear open. "Oh, man, thanks! I didn't have breakfast yet!" you cry as you shove the sandwich into your mouth. Joe and Cody both laugh as Jordan fumes.<br/>
<br/>
"So what're you all doin' out here?" you ask as you drop to the grass. "I'm skippin' Spanish 'cos I got here late." You decide not to tell them why. Brianna was chilly to you all the way up to school, and besides, Dane's bragged enough about the girls he's scored with.<br/>
<br/>
"We're skippin' Algebra," Cody says. "Durras here's a bad influence."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, it wasn't my idea!" Joe protests. "You dipshits is the ones who talked me into comin' out here an'— You know I could be back in there, learning!"<br/>
<br/>
"If we could learn anything in there," Jordan sneers, "we wouldn't be taking Intermediate Algebra our senior year."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>I</i> could be back in there not learning," Joe says, "from someone who's at least got a rack. My old math teacher at Eastman—"<br/>
<br/>
"Ms. Simeon hasn't got a rack!"<br/>
<br/>
"More of a rack than Mr. Jones! Are you gonna hog all those for yourself, man?"<br/>
<br/>
You look up from peeling the orange you stole to find Joe pointing at the baggie. You take out one for yourself and toss the rest to him. "Yeah," Joe says as he snaps a finger at Jordan until Jordan digs out a lighter. "And Ms. Simeon's got that earth mother thing goin' on. I bet she's got a bush like a jungle, and I got a python'd just <i>love</i> to go nosing around through it."<br/>
<br/>
There follows a fairly nasty but entertaining conversation about whether Ms. Simeon is sexy, and whether "sexy enough" is itself enough to be sexy. You don't contribute much except the occasional grunt. You don't even light anything up, but take hits off the joint Joe lit, and which he passes around. You concentrate on him the whole time while trying not to be obvious about it.<br/>
<br/>
He's very blonde, with a shock of hair that seems to catch and multiply the rays of sunshine that fall on it, and he has a California tan that glows ripely with health. He's wearing a sleeveless t-shirt that shows off strong shoulders and strong biceps that would be a credit to a wrestler, and there is cat-like power and grace in the way he lounges on the grass. His countenance is open and bright, and his blue eyes shine with mirth even when he's cussing the other guys. His teeth are strong and white, and his features bold and regular. He wields a doobie with an expert's flourish, but you have the impression he's not actually inhaling as deeply as he pretends.<br/>
<br/>
Your mind wanders back to Monday, when you—when Dane, that is—got cornered by him and his brother. Frank was taller, more lithe, and even more panther-like in his moves than Joe, with dark hair and a hard gaze that seemed to go through you like a spear. He hardly smiled, and you couldn't help thinking that he talked like a cop whereas Joe was easy and relaxed and made you feel like you and him were old friends. You talked with him about weed and girls and skipping classes—all activities that he said he liked while Frank listened on with seeming disapproval. But still, you hung your head with embarrassment when Joe asked you point blank how come you were telling people you were really "Dane Matthias."<br/>
<br/>
<i>I dunno,</i> you said. <i>Maybe I been smoking too many of these.</i> You were finishing off the very end of a blunt as you talked with them.<br/>
<br/>
The conversation shifted a little as Joe dared you to prove you weren't as high as you thought you were, and eventually it turned into a game of tongue twisters before segueing back to the question of who you really were. It was easier by then to confess that you were pretty goddamned convinced that you were Dane Matthias, because you could remember all kinds of shit that only Dane knew or remembered—like growing up in a trailer park with his mom—and that you didn't know a goddamned thing about Gordon Black's life and were doing a really good job of fucking it up. You told them about how you were yourself up until a couple of weeks ago, when you ran into some guys back in one of those portables and it felt like you got knocked out and when you woke up— <i>Bang!</i> Suddenly you were in Gordon Black's body!<br/>
<br/>
Frank wanted to go look in that portable, but Joe told him he could be a dumbass on his own time and go looking next period, when Joe was planning to have lunch with this cheerleader he was trying to get to know better.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What are you doin' now?" Joe asks you as the bell ending first period sounds.<br/>
<br/>
"Just skippin' another class."<br/>
<br/>
"Me too. Thinkin' of skippin' the whole day." He rolls onto his back to drink in the sunshine while sucking down another hit off the rapidly vanishing doobie. After a moment he squints over at you. "Wanna leave school, hang out at your place?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Your place, Dane," he says. "Your <i>old</i> place."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Whoa!</i> He's walking right into your trap, it sounds like, and it's his own idea!<br/>
<br/>
But maybe you should wait until you can round up his brother too, and Caleb.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322411221111231211111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Face Factory
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Joe Durras, one of the transfer students from Eastman that you are trying to trap, is talking like he wants to walk into your ambush. The opportunity is just too sweet to pass up.<br/>
<br/>
"Go back out to <i>my</i> place?" you exclaim. "Oh, fuck me! I ain't been out there since— Well, since this whole thing happened!"<br/>
<br/>
Jordan and Cody have been giving you sly, sidelong glances, and now they grin at each other. The exchanged thought is clear: <i>Crazy Gordon, talking again like he's really Dane!</i><br/>
<br/>
You grab your bag and haul yourself to your feet. "Yeah, come on, let's do that now!"<br/>
<br/>
"Now?" Joe looks startled.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck yeah! I mean, fuck me! Why ain't I been back out there? You comin'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure. Wait up!" He has to catch up to you as you trod off for the parking lot. "You mean you really haven't been back out to your old place?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! And I don't know how come. I mean— Oh, fuck me, it's <i>my house!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right!" Joe laughs and claps you on the back. "It wouldn't even be breaking and entering!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't have a car, so Joe leads you out to a truck that might be a little bigger than the one that you drove when you were Will Prescott, but is the same basic, rugged shape and make. As he starts it he asks if you remember the way out, and of course you do, and give directions. You wonder why he's asking, though, since he and his brother were out there yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
He asks about your family, if your mother might be there, and what you'll say to her if you see her. You tell him that she might or might not be home, and might or might not be passed out if she is. As for what you'll say to her— You affect to be tongue-tied and ask what he thinks you should do.<br/>
<br/>
"Just play it cool," he says. "Is Gordon a friend of yours? Well, never mind if he isn't, just say you're a friend of Dane's."<br/>
<br/>
"I've been telling everyone else who I am. That I'm ... the Danester but I got—" You examine your hands. "This thing done to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Do people believe you?"<br/>
<br/>
You hang your head. "Prob'ly not. But they're cool with it. Maize Tsosie let me move in when Gordon's dad threw me out."<br/>
<br/>
"That sucks. I mean, that his dad threw you out, it's awesome that Maize let you move in. His folks okay with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maize's got his own place. You should come out. We had a little party 'n everything last night." You bite down on your grin. "Woke up a with girl this morning."<br/>
<br/>
Joe howls with delight, and promises that he'll hang out with you and Maize so much that it'll be like <i>he</i> moved in too.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joe's questions get a little more searching without seeming any more serious as the drive progresses. He is particularly interested in the guy now living in Dane's house and in Dane's body. He agrees with you that it must be Gordon, and he asks if the other guy is claiming to be "Gordon Black." You (truthfully, by Dane's lights) tell him you don't know, that the other guy got shipped out of town soon after, and when he came back he had a "killbot haircut." <i>Oh!</i> you groan, <i>it makes me wanna puke when I see what he done to my hair!</i><br/>
<br/>
There's a relaxed saunter in Joe's stride as you trudge up the walk to the trailer door. He is whistling softly to himself, and he waggles his eyebrows at you as he knocks on the door. When there's no answer he knocks again, then tries the handle. It's locked, but with another eyebrow waggle he takes some long metal pins from of his wallet and wriggles them in the locks. In a trice the door is open.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, messy housekeeping," he says when you're inside and surveying the disaster zone. "Is this what it looked like when you were living here?"<br/>
<br/>
His pretense that he's never been out here is actually getting you to wonder if maybe there's two of this guy walking around, but you just grab your head and shake it in wonder and bafflement. "No," you gasp. "The fuck happened in here? My bedroom!" You start down the hall. "What's he doing with my shit?"<br/>
<br/>
You throw open the bedroom door and step in. You weren't prepared to bring anyone out here yet, but the desk is near the door, and on its corner is a stack of brain bands that you put together. Joe is still in the hallway as you palm one.<br/>
<br/>
He stops dead in the doorway, and his eyes glitter as his gaze dances over the room. There's rows of masks laid out on the bed, with brain bands next to some. Sitting on the pillow is the cardboard box you carried them in.<br/>
<br/>
"Looks like a bomb went off in the drama club," he says as he steps up to the bed. He bends over one of the masks with his hands clasped behind his back. "Left nothing behind but the  Muses." He shoots you a sharp look over his shoulder. "Are these yours? You ever see anything like them?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! The fuck are they?"<br/>
<br/>
"The cause of and solution to your problem, I think." He dips a hand into the box and plucks out the grimoire. "Don't touch anything," he tells you as he bends his face over it.<br/>
<br/>
"I won't," you say, and slam the brain band onto the back of his head. He falls onto the bed face first, bounces, and is still.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You clear a space on the bed and shift Joe into the middle of it. You take his phone from his pocket and lay it aside, and pull his shoes off. From elsewhere in the bedroom you gather what you need: a blank mask, sealant, paint brush, and the golem-making goop. Then it's a matter of waiting, for you are going to follow the same procedure as you did with Dane.<br/>
<br/>
So after the brain band reappears (on his forehead, though, not on the back of his head) you put a mask onto his face, where it vanishes. You finger the brain band as you wait, and are startled by the name that appears there: FRANZ FELIX LIEBESSPRUCH. What does it mean? Was he operating under an alias? It would make sense, if he was some kind of undercover cop. It makes you even more curious to find out who he is and what he's up to.<br/>
<br/>
You work quickly after the mask is out of him, looking up often as you seal it up, glue the band into it, then coat it with the enslaving paste. He hasn't stirred, though, before you drop it back onto his face.<br/>
<br/>
He's resting on his side, and one eye pops open as you straighten up. He glares at you, then half a second later is flying at your face and throat. "Stop it!" you choke out before he can close a grip around you neck. "Get off!"<br/>
<br/>
Joe falls back, his eyes blazing and his teeth flashing. His hands are claws and his hair seems to stand on end. "The fuck?" he demands. "What kind of God <i>damned—</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"You have to do what I say! You're my slave!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm—!"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes pop, he gulps hard, and all the color drains from his face, leaving it a greenish-white. He chokes.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm your minion!" he whispers in a voice filled with horror. "Oh, God <i>damn</i> it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Er ... that's right! So just sit down"—he drops onto the edge of the bed—"keep quiet"—his mouth claps shut—"and don't move until I get back."<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you aghast, in a posture of almost unnatural rigidity. You start to leave, but pause to glance back from the doorway. He remains stiffly in place, but his eyes shift to follow you. Fear and hatred show in them. "Don't move and don't talk," you warn him again.<br/>
<br/>
But to be safer, you take his phone with you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He is still where you left him when you return, some fifteen minutes later, in your own natural form but with Gordon Black's clothes dripping off your frame, and his mask in your hand. Joe rears back with a look of recognition. "You wanna say something?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"How many faces have you got, b-boss?" He gasps at the sound of the last word slipping out.<br/>
<br/>
"A couple. This is my real one. You know it?"<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "He's on the squad. New guy, no one can really believe it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's not me. He's just someone I hired to play me."<br/>
<br/>
"Hired?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of a joke. Take your clothes off."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do?" he asks when he's laying on the bed, naked and shivering. His eyes roll in their sockets.<br/>
<br/>
"We're collecting faces," you tell him. He has plate-like pecs, showy abs, good legs, a well-shaped and good-sized dong, all glowing with a full-body tan. "You're my latest."<br/>
<br/>
"Me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Boy, are you in for a surprise," he moans just before you tear his face off.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224112211112312111111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Fire Behind the Face
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You bolt upright, every nerve in your body a taut, fiery bowstring. <i>Motherfucker!</i> you scream inside your skull. <i>Where's the God-damned little cunt? I'll fuck him, and then I'll skin him and kill him and eat him! And then I'll get mean!</i><br/>
<br/>
You're in Dane Mathias's messy bedroom, on the filthy bed where that <i>motherfucking fuckmeister hat dich mit einem hollischen Gerat erwischt—!</i><br/>
<br/>
You bridle your anger. <i>Time enough for cussing, Joe,</i> you remind yourself, <i>after you've caught the little shit. Then you can set him on fire and piss on him to put him out before setting him on fire again.</i> Did he take your clothes? Fine, now you won't have to drop your trousers before you <i>shit in his mouth!</i><br/>
<br/>
Actually, your clothes are stacked neatly on the other side of the bed, but you ignore them as you leap to your feet and tear the bedroom door back. You are vibrating with rage as you stalk nakedly down the hallway. <i>Fucking smug little pissant! "I'm going to add your face to my collection, Joe," he said. Fuck you, I'll tear your face off and jack off through the bloody flap that was once your mouth!</i><br/>
<br/>
A figure is sitting on the sofa with his back to you. Before you can leap on him, he turns and looks at you with a wondering, curious expression. It's Gordon Black.<br/>
<br/>
And with a choke you catch yourself almost in mid-leap. It hits you between the eyes like hammer: That's not the face you're looking for, even though he—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Prescott!</i> That's who you're looking for, the scrawny little shrimp who made it onto the squad with you and Frank! <i>! Will Prescott! He—</i><br/>
<br/>
He—<br/>
<br/>
"Whooooaaaa!" You're hit with a massive head rush and fall into a crouch, pushing your face into your bare knees. <i>Will Prescott! <br/>
<br/>
He—! He's—!</i><br/>
<br/>
You swallow hard, and start to shake violently.<br/>
<br/>
<i>He's you! I'm him! I'm Will Prescott, and I— I—</i><br/>
<br/>
You lift your head and, blindly, feel at your face. It makes you both ill and excited, all at once, to brush the cheek and touch the lips and nose. <i>We're collecting faces,</i> you told him, <i>and you're my latest.</i><br/>
<br/>
And so now here you are. Wearing the face of—<br/>
<br/>
Of—<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~</div><br/>
<i>Ten days ago.</i> Conor Nilsson dribbles left, then feints before shooting the basketball to Frank. Time dilates as you jump and stretch and put a toe on that extra tank of gas you keep for just such emergencies ...<br/>
<br/>
And your fingertips brush the ball just enough to knock it away. Frank scrambles for it but Timothy Johnson catches it first and tosses it back to you. You wheel toward your own basket as Frank and Conor fall back toward theirs. But you hang back, grinning and dribbling the ball as you calculate whether to run it past Conor or try to <i>totally fucking humiliate</i> Frank by getting it past him.<br/>
<br/>
It's a cool Saturday afternoon, and your quartet—all members of the Eastman basketball team—are playing a game of hoops on the battered basketball blacktop of an elementary school near Conor's house. You guys get enough practice during the week, but this is for fun. Or, it would be fun if all four of you weren't so intensely competitive.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey guys!" a voice shouts from the direction of the parking lot. You turn in time to see Ian Carpenter, your team captain, vault the chain link fence that separates the school yard from the parking lot. He's dressed in a soft green track suit whose white lines accentuate his long, lean build. There's a bright grin on his brown, elfin face.<br/>
<br/>
"No one invited you, Carpenter!" you yell. "This is a friendly game!"<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna pass that pop quiz in Jones's class on Monday?" he retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"What pop quiz? No one told me there was gonna be a pop quiz!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what makes it a pop quiz." He looks over your quartet with gleaming eyes. "Shirts and skins?" he asks, for despite the chilly breeze, you and Timothy are bare-chested. "Balanced match up. What's the score?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sixteen, fourteen," Frank says. "Us."<br/>
<br/>
Ian grins at you. "Oooo!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck you! Is there really going to be a pop quiz on Monday?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." Then he does a double-take at you. "You know, I was looking at your grades," he says. He's also the teacher's aide in the remedial math class you're taking, so he can. "Did you know you've been stuck at a seventy-point-one average for the last three weeks? No matter how high or low you score on your quizzes or homework, your average always comes back to seventy-point-one."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that good enough to keep me on the team?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just barely."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what do I care?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's just weird, man. Oh, speaking of weird." His eyes grow large. "You guys hear about Gordon Black? What happened yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
Timothy snorts. "He finally get arrested for sexual assault or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not funny. But no, he got kicked off the Westside squad!"<br/>
<br/>
There's gasps all around, and a shocked-but-gleeful "Nooo!" from Timothy.<br/>
<br/>
"And it was <i>Patterson</i> who got him kicked!"<br/>
<br/>
"But they're partners in douchebaggery!" you exclaim. "At least," you add, glancing around, "that's what I hear. I never met 'em myself."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not missing anything. But yeah, Black's gone!"<br/>
<br/>
"What happened?" Conor asks.<br/>
<br/>
It's a fragmentary tale Carpenter tells, full of "I don't knows" and "from what I hear" and "Alyssa told me", for most of it comes via Eastman's head cheerleader. The long and short of it is: Gordon has been skipping practices and getting stoned off his ass, to the point that his best friend and teammate, Steve Patterson, staged an intervention. But it didn't take, so he went to the coach and got Black kicked from the team.<br/>
<br/>
It would have just been gossip but for the talk you and Frank had with Alyssa at a party that night.<br/>
<br/>
"Girlfriends?" she says to you and Frank. "Between you and me? That boy— It's the difference between night and day! I saw him out at Joshua Cheswick's yesterday—ain't never seen him out there before!—and he was as gassed up as hot air balloon! And <i>grinnin'? That's</i> what knocked <i>me</i> back!"<br/>
<br/>
"Black doesn't grin?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You know Black! Oh, wait, maybe you don't, you not been in town long enough. The Gordon Black I know's mean enough to melt lead just by lookin' at it." She glares, briefly, to illustrate. "An' every party I seen him at he's the biggest, sourest <i>grunch</i> ever. Looks like he wants to go around pullin' heads off'a necks. But yesterday night, at Joshua's, he was laughin' and carryin' on and tickling girls and getting tickled by 'em. I had to get up close to tell it was the same guy, and even then I wasn't sure b'cause I've never seen him smile!"<br/>
<br/>
"A personality change over at Westside, huh?" you observe to Frank later that night (really, early Sunday morning) as you drive home. "And a pretty radical one by the sound of it. What do you think, Frank?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's at Eastman, Joe," he says. <br/>
<br/>
"It <i>was</i> at Eastman. Are we sure it still is?"<br/>
<br/>
"How would it get to Westside?"<br/>
<br/>
"With someone who transferred over. I can name at least three people off the top of my head who suddenly moved to Westside this year."<br/>
<br/>
Frank chews on this. "So we talk to Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"At least we talk to someone who's <i>talked</i> to Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
And it is from just such an acquaintance that you and Frank learn how Gordon Black is going around telling people that his real name is "Dane Matthias," and that he got <i>body swapped</i> with Gordon Black.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~</div><br/>
Frank is making a saddle with his hands, hoisting you up so you can change the bulb in the kitchen, when the phone rings. "I'll get it," he says. You wobble a little, and when you look down, you're standing on air as Frank exits the room. "Lemme down!" you holler. Instead, the invisible hand holding you three feet off the ground tightens its grip around your calves. <i>"Frank!"</i><br/>
<br/>
"It's Dad!" he yells back. "Hang on!"<br/>
<br/>
But he doesn't return, leaving you (literally) hanging in mid-air as he consults with the head of the occult Order to which you both belong, and for which you are conducting this investigation. <i>"Frank!"</i> you scream, but he continues to ignore you.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you finish changing the bulb?" your asshole brother asks when he finally saunters back in.<br/>
<br/>
"I was waiting for you to let me down!"<br/>
<br/>
"How can you change the bulb if I let you down?"<br/>
<br/>
You flip him off. Hard. But then you change the bulb.<br/>
<br/>
It turns out your dad just called to say he's starting the work on getting you and Frank transferred to Westside (as per your request), to continue your hunt for the <i>Summa Libra Personae,</i> an infamous work of occult magic that is rumored to have recently turned up in the little town of Saratoga Falls.<br/>
<br/>
It's a book that can be used to effect—or at least mimic—body swaps.<br/>
<br/>
You were so excited by the new lead that you hopped into the back yard to smoke a cigarette. Not until you patted your pocket for a second one did you realize you forgot to bring matches or a lighter. You had lit up the first with your own fiery enthusiasm.<br/>
<br/>
It's a thing that sometimes happens, and you have to be careful not to accidentally show off that talent—that <i>prodigy</i>—in front of the normies.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~</div><br/>
So, you now know, Joe Durras—real name Franz Felix Liebesspruch—is a kind of natural-born warlock, sent with his partner/brother to find and confiscate your book. You know Joe from the inside now, so you also know that despite the fury he'd feel, he and Frank wouldn't hurt you. Well, not too much.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb  has made noises about putting things back to normal. The arrival of Joe and his brother offers a face-saving way to climb out of the mess you've been making.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132241122111123121111112
author_id: seuzz
title: Fast Work and Fast Talk
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You spring to your feet and whirl back toward the hallway. "Boss?" calls Gordon. You flip him off over your shoulder as you stalk away.<br/>
<br/>
In the bathroom you splash cold water on your face, then lift your head to study your reflection. It's Joe Durras's face, alright, the one you told him you'd be "adding to the collection." You lean forward to study it. <br/>
<br/>
It's a good face, and the magic has reproduced it perfectly, right down to the tiny little hairs at the corner of the nose, which he missed when shaving this morning. He has a smooth brow over dark eyebrows; piercing blue eyes; a straight, regular nose with the smallest bump in the bridge to give it a little character. Good cheekbones, a firm jawline, and taut cheeks to connect them. A strong chin, and lips that part easily into a wide smile that shows strong, white, cavity-free teeth.<br/>
<br/>
You run your fingers over them all, pulling at the warm, supple flesh and at the hairline where lush, brilliantly blonde hair sprouts.<br/>
<br/>
You're giving yourself wood even before you stand back to take in the rest of your new body. Pectorals like meaty plates, perfectly smooth and hairless, with large brown boy-tits. Round, strong shoulders and sculpted biceps and triceps. Strong forearms (but not gross) downed with light hair. Hands with shiny nails as the end of strong, clever fingers. A flat, hard stomach with ridges and a little outie, and a trail of soft hair leading down to the bush inside which dwells a fat trouser snake and a tight set of balls. A butt you could bounce quarters off of, and strong, shapely, well-muscled thighs and calves. You fold your arms and stand back to regard this reflection. Your eyes glint and your hair bristles with pleasure.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck yeah!" you murmur to yourself. But the greed you feel for this body comes not just from your appreciation for it, or even for Joe Durras's own appreciation of it. (He started with good material, but he's worked hard to improve it.) It comes from knowing what can be done with it, even without—<br/>
<br/>
You catch yourself, and frown. <i>Even without ...</i><br/>
<br/>
You snap your fingers and open your palm. Nothing. Again, you snap your fingers and ... Nothing. You run a tongue inside your lower lip. <i>Concentrate. It should be second nature, but ... concentrate.</i> You snap your fingers, open your palm ...<br/>
<br/>
There should be a golden light there, an orb like a miniature sun, glowing softly and floating just over the palm of your hand. You could brighten or dim it, illuminate a dark room with it, or cause it to explode noiselessly in a brilliant, blinding flash.<br/>
<br/>
But there's nothing. Just your palm.<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes to concentrate. <i>I'm standing in the hallway, looking at myself,</i> you tell yourself. <i>I'm in the hallway, in the hallway—</i><br/>
<br/>
You open your eyes. You're still in the bathroom, and when you look out the door there's no aethereal twin, knitted from purest light, grinning back at you<br/>
<br/>
You step into the hallway, grind your bare feet into the ratty carpet, and launch yourself toward the living room. You shamble and stumble, taking three steps before fetching up with a bump against a wall.<br/>
<br/>
That's the cruelest blow of all. <i>I'm the Flash, man! I should be able to take one step and in half a second move thirty yards!</i><br/>
<br/>
And your thoughts! They're not slow, exactly, but they do feel gummy and sticky, like your brain is webbed with honey. You're used to thinking at a blazing speed. This is like running through wet cement.<br/>
<br/>
Still—<br/>
<br/>
You step back into the bathroom, to regard your reflection again. That glow of satisfaction flares to life again, and your mouth and eyes settle into a knowing grin.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, even without Joe's special powers—his "prodigies," as he and his friends call them—you know what can be done with this body, animated by this personality—in class, in the gym, and especially ... with girls!<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You swagger back into the bedroom and, still naked, start packing masks and brain bands into the cardboard box. You don't pause even when your phone buzzes. "Yeah!" you snap into it.<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you, Joe?" Frank asks. "You're not skipping again, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Define 'skipping'. I ran into Black," you bulldoze on and it gives you an adrenaline rush to fall so easily into Joe Durras's personality, "and we came out to Matthias's trailer. I'm tossing the place now."<br/>
<br/>
"You <i>what?</i> Joe, you didn't just—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop yelping at me like someone dropped a crawdad down the front of your Jockey's."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What do you think you're doing?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"I'm showing initiative, Frank! The little fuck's at school, isn't he? At least, he should be. So I saw a chance, I took  it, and it's paying off. Well, not yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddayu mean?"<br/>
<br/>
You have to tamp down the giddy joy you feel at fooling the guy you're talking to. "I mean, the place is clean, so far," you say as heft the <i>Summa Libra Personae</i>—the very thing that you and your partner have been searching for—and grin at it. "Okay, it's not <i>clean,</i> not after the shakedown you gave it yesterday. Fuck me, he didn't even sweep up the cereal from off the floor. But I'm not finding anything." You grab up a fistful of brain bands. "Not a sign of nothing."<br/>
<br/>
"That's bad, Joe. Sounds like he bugged out."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah it does, doesn't it? I was avoiding saying it because I didn't want to hurt your feelings after the bad play you made of it yesterday—"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>I</i> made?"<br/>
<br/>
"Trying to scare him."<br/>
<br/>
"It was your idea!"<br/>
<br/>
"And who's the dumbass who went along with me? If you'd put your foot down and kept still instead of rattling his cage"—you heft the box under a brawny arm and carry it out into the kitchen, to set on the rickety dining table—"he wouldn't have run, and now here we are."<br/>
<br/>
"Where we both are, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Except I'm not convinced he did run. Didn't I say he should be at school now? If he is— Keep an eye out for him."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you thinking?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. 'Intuiting' is closer to it. I'm chewing over the way he buffaloed us yesterday. That's not something we were warned could happen."<br/>
<br/>
"It was unnatural, you told me."<br/>
<br/>
"Everything about this business is unnatural, Frank." You hike back to the bedroom and bounce your bare ass onto the bed. "But yesterday was unnatural even for the degree of unnaturalness we were told to expect. There's something else going on here, an extra layer." You snatch up your underwear and start pulling it on with one hand. I don't think that was our guy yesterday, not the one we're looking for."<br/>
<br/>
"Who else would it have been?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. But there was an <i>enchantment</i> there, something to stop him from telling us the truth. That kind of thing is supposed to be outside the <i>Personae</i>'s subject area."<br/>
<br/>
"So it's something our target learned from another book, cast upon himself to protect himself from questioning."<br/>
<br/>
"But how would he know he needed that kind of protection? Also, we didn't even look over this place yesterday, we just saw the living room." You shove your legs into the Levis. "I'm looking at the bathroom right now, and— Let's just say, if I was a warlock and I had the <i>Personae,</i> either I wouldn't be living here, or I'd be researching some pretty heavy duty spells about getting <i>hair</i> out of sink traps! No, if I was our guy, this isn't the place I'd be holed up."<br/>
<br/>
"So who is it living out there, and why couldn't you untwist his tongue?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you have a class to get to, Frank?" You'd like to get him off the phone, because you're trying to get your socks on while cradling a very small iPhone between your shoulder and ear. <br/>
<br/>
"I've got study hall this period."<br/>
<br/>
"Must be nice. Me, I'm booked solid with classes, including that fucking tutorial with the <i>only tutor at the school who hasn't got tits!"</i><br/>
<br/>
"May I remind you, Joe, that you haven't been to <i>one</i> of your classes yet today?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was at practice! I scored two shots off your—!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not a class, and shut your complaint hole. I asked, who's living out there, and why couldn't you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's what's making me frantic. We know that 'Gordon' is Dane Matthias, both because he says so and because I untwisted his tongue. But if 'Matthias' isn't Black, if he's some other victim or a flunky or <i>something,</i> then why was <i>his</i> tongue locked? I dunno, Frank." You push your feet into your sneakers. "But I don't think this was our guy. This place is too disgusting, so I'm thinking it's a dead end. I'm thinking our fucker got into it, then backed out and went somewhere else and— Yaaaah! Oh! Oh oh oh! <i>Fuck!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing! Everything! It felt like I was having a brainstorm but then it didn't come! <i>Fuck!</i> Do have any idea how frustrating that is, Frank? Oh, of course not, because you don't have ideas. But it's like you're about to cum inside a girl but then— Oh, wait, you wouldn't know what that's like either."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I know exactly what that's like, Joe. It's like the feeling I get when I'm about to punch a smart-mouthed little brother right in his smart little mouth, but he—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah yeah. But this is a dead end, either way." You toss your shirt over your shoulder and make one last sweep of the room, to make sure you're not leaving anything incriminating behind. "The thing to do is to watch Matthias."<br/>
<br/>
"I will. You coming back up to school?"<br/>
<br/>
The more important question is, Do you get Caleb to help you by giving him Frank to impersonate?<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322411221111231211111122
author_id: seuzz
title: Covering Tracks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll be back for practice at the latest," you tell Frank. "I still need to look around the outside of this place. There might be a spider hole or something where the stuff's hid."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, be careful, Joe. I don't like it that you went out there alone. This guy we're dealing with—"<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft! I'm too quick for him to catch me." <i>Famous last words, Joe,</i> you tell yourself as you close the connection. You pull on that sleeveless t-shirt and saunter out into the living room.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon is standing there, a wondering expression on his face. "Well, don't you look big and stupid," you tell him. "What's on your mind, or whatever passes for it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I'm a little confused, boss."<br/>
<br/>
He looks it. You cock your head, weighing the technicalities of what you need to do with him. He has Dane's memories and personality, but he also will have memories of catching Joe Durras with a brain band and making a mask of him. Can you erase those memories? You wish you had the time now to make a very close study of the <i>Personae.</i> Would it be enough to simply tell him what to say, if questioned?<br/>
<br/>
"Sit down," you order, and Gordon docilely drops onto the arm of the sofa. "Close your eyes. Listen close. Think back to when we got here. We drove up and parked in front of the trailer. What happened next?"<br/>
<br/>
"We came inside—"<br/>
<br/>
"Go back. Tell me <i>everything.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"We got out. We walked— We went through the gate. We walked up the sidewalk. You were whistling. We went up the steps and you knocked. You waggled your eyebrows at me—"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Bit by bit you walk him him through the morning's events. Each time he comes to something that you don't want him to tell anyone, you tell him to <i>forget</i> that it happened, and you tell him that he remembers something else happening instead. It's a very long and exacting process.<br/>
<br/>
But will it work? There's nothing to do but test him.<br/>
<br/>
So when you are done, and after you have told him to lie on the couch and to sleep, and have carried the box of loot out to the truck and come back in ...<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" you shout as the door slams behind you. "You awake?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon shoots up with a very confused look on his face. "Were you napping?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I—"<br/>
<br/>
"What have you been doing all this time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Since when, boss?"<br/>
<br/>
"Since we got here. Since I picked the lock and we came inside," you explain, slowly enunciating each word. "What have you been doing since?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," he replies in bewilderment. "Just waiting here for you to get done with whatever."<br/>
<br/>
"You been out here all this time?" You chuck your chin at the hallway leading to Dane's bedroom. "You take a look back there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? No, I—"<br/>
<br/>
"You haven't been helping me look around, doing stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Doing what, boss?" He sounds utterly confused. "You asked me to sit out here and— Well, I looked around a little, to see if there were any, you know, loose joints rolling around."<br/>
<br/>
That was one of the details you invented for him to remember. "Find any?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"But you haven't been back in your bedroom?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! You told me to stay out, told me to sit still and keep my hands to myself!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just making sure. Well, this is a bust." You glance around with your hands on your hips. "Tell you what, though. You don't really wanna go back to school, do you? Didn't think so. I'll tell— It was Shep Tsosie who's been giving you rides. You told me that." You give him a hard look, and he nods with dawning recognition. "I'll tell Shep to come pick you up. Just hang out here till then. Maybe the other Dane Matthias will show up, and you two can catch up."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God!" Gordon pales. "That'd be too weird!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you leave him at Dane's trailer and drive back to where Frank and Joe Durras live. It's a squat little house in the "student ghetto" south of the college. The yard is verdant but weedy, in keeping with the yards around it, which are also festooned with abandoned couches and the occasional motorcycle. You let yourself in, hide the cardboard box in the closet of the bedroom where Joe sleeps, but from it extract a single brain band. With a tuneful whistle on your lips, this you take into the dining nook, where a laptop sits on a spindly table. Next to it are a couple of spiral binders, a few school books, and a stack of paper. You knock over a plastic cup filled with pencils and erasers and a small plastic ruler, and into that mess you slip the brain band. Resting there it looks like another ruler, and it will be easy to pick up and palm.<br/>
<br/>
Then you return to the bedroom, take the <i>Summa Personae</i> from the box, set the alarm on your phone, and plop onto the bed. After smiling over the faces that decorate the end papers, you turn to the preface and begin to read.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey Dumbass!"<br/>
<br/>
You push the sopping hair from your eyes and turn as Ryan Shuler, Luke Bennett, and Jonas Martin—naked as you—come swaggering into the gym shower. Frank, under the next shower head over, turns to watch with a hooded look as they make a semicircle around you. "Where'd you say you were third period?" Martin asks over the hiss of the shower spray. There's a fell light in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
"You asked me that at the start of practice." You put your head back under the water and rub the lather out. "Were you deaf or'd I just use words too big for you understand?"<br/>
<br/>
"Say it again."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. I was up in your mommy's gyny." You squint at the others. "She was eating Shuler's mom out while Bennett's mom was waiting her turn with me." You shake the water from your hair.<br/>
<br/>
The three ballplayers glower, then step toward you. Before anything can happen, though, a shirtless Steve Patterson pokes his head around the corner. "Everything okay in here?" he barks.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing!" you shout as the others glare at you with twitching jaw muscles. "The guys here just want a closer look at my pecker! They're used to playing with each other's, and can't believe the size of the one I got!"<br/>
<br/>
Bennett stabs you in the shoulder with a stiff forefinger. "Outside. Fifteen minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"You got it!" You grab your nutsack and start soaping it.<br/>
<br/>
They turn and go. "Joe," Frank says in a low voice, then turns his back as Patterson walks up. You are of average height, so Patterson looms over you.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna play it the hard way, play it the hard way, Dumbass," he tells you.<br/>
<br/>
You grin back. "Thanks! Maybe I'll win a prize!"<br/>
<br/>
"And maybe you won't like the prize you win. Listen, I only care what you do on the court, but if that mouth of yours starts causing issues—"<br/>
<br/>
"I know," you assure him with a sigh. "I'll do better. I don't wanna cause you any trouble. Because," you add as Patterson, with a small, glacial smile, starts to retreat, "I don't want you to have to cut those three dipshits from the team just because they can't get along with me."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes freeze and that smile vanishes. But he withdraws without further word.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna fight those guys," Frank says as he rinses himself off, "you're gonna do it alone. I'm not even gonna stay and watch."<br/>
<br/>
"I can take 'em."<br/>
<br/>
"There's three of them."<br/>
<br/>
"They're not gonna rush me. They'd be pussies to."<br/>
<br/>
"Put it off till tomorrow, Joe. We got stuff to do this afternoon." <br/>
<br/>
He shuts off the water and leaves, almost bumping into Will Prescott who, strutting like a bantam rooster, comes in and turns on the shower next to yours. You can't resist talking to him.<br/>
<br/>
"So they got problems with me 'cos I'm too good," you tell him. "What's their beef with you, man?" you ask, for many of the guys were hassling him at practice. He says something inaudible, and you shut off your shower. "Whadju say?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said, get in line to bite me."<br/>
<br/>
"Ooo! I'll have to remember that one!" You goose him in the small of his back as you swagger out. "Shoot me a text when it's my turn to suck you off!" You flash him a cocky grin, but he only glowers back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Bennett and his friends have enough honor that they don't rush you at once. But even though you put Martin down fast, you're not as fast enough, and he numbs the side of your face with a hard punch to your left cheek. But after he's rolling on the ground, grimacing and whimpering, you turn a bright, hard grin on his friends, and they back away.<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna have a shiner, Joe," Frank says as you hop into the truck to join him. "How'd that happen?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sucker punch."<br/>
<br/>
"And you were slow on the court this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to look <i>too</i> good. Same reason I let 'em hit me."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a slow, thoughtful look before turning the engine over.<br/>
<br/>
It makes your heart beat hard. Frank and Joe Durras are not regular fellas. They've got magic powers—<i>prodigies,</i> they call them—and if you had Joe's prodigies Luke Bennett wouldn't have even been able to graze you. But as your lunchtime perusal of the <i>Personae</i> confirmed, what Joe Durras and his brother have is something the masks <i>can't</i> copy.<br/>
<br/>
With luck, you'll be able to turn Frank into a <i>pedisequos</i> like "Gordon" and "Dane" and "Lindsay Cho." But you won't be able to fool the other members of their esoteric Order if they come looking, which they will, one way or another.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224112211112312111111221
author_id: seuzz
title: Den of the Body Thief
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You straighten up and roll your head around on your neck. Then you reach forward to pull the unconscious Frank Durras upright in his chair. <i>Boot to the back of the head,</i> you think with a faint smirk. <i>Just like I did it with Joe!</i><br/>
<br/>
You talked Frank into dropping by the house before heading over to Dane Matthias's trailer, and while there you went into the bathroom to pretend to take a long shit. When you came out, Frank was hunching at the computer, checking something online. <i>So predictable,</i> you thought as you sauntered up behind him. <i>He always goes to check email or something if he's got a few minutes to kill.</i> "Any parties happening this weekend?" you asked.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? No." He was closing tabs as you grabbed up some of those pencils you'd artfully arranged earlier. The <i>mens</i> was among them, and before Frank could stand you popped it onto his head. He pitched forward, almost breaking the laptop with his face.<br/>
<br/>
Frank and Joe Durras are a study in contrasts. Frank is tall with lush, dark hair that looks good even when it hasn't been brushed. He is moody, with a hooded and wary gaze that isn't softened even when he smiles, which is rare. He is well-built but with more natural proportions than Joe, for although Joe has built himself up to have a wrestler's physique, Frank can thank good genes for his strength, which he has only sculpted with the exercise equipment. Frank tends to be quiet in company, and listens with a grave intensity rather than talks. He doesn't lack a sense of humor, but he smiles at jokes rather than laughs, and he never tells any.<br/>
<br/>
Joe is blonde, effervescent, and irrepressible. His eyes dance with a pixieish glee, and his face naturally relaxes into a grin. He's a chatterbox and a loudmouth, and a boastful one at that, though a lot of that (you know from wriggling inside his psyche) is a bit of a front. The fact is that Joe is good and he knows that he's good, and he can't stand the idea of hiding his light under a bushel. So he lampshades and exaggerates his already swollen ego, to make it a little comical so as to not offend people quite so much.<br/>
<br/>
(Or, at least, that's what he tells himself he does. You can't help suspecting that what he thinks is self-exaggeration is genuine self-conceit squirting out through the seams.)<br/>
<br/>
It also doesn't help that he's the younger of the pair of the putative brothers—they were each adopted separately when young, and raised together in the same house—and is the smarter of the two. But Frank, for all his silences and retirement, has an overpowering presence of his own that Joe can't help punching up at. Sometimes, when Frank stands in his way or squashes one of his ideas, Joe just wants to burst!<br/>
<br/>
So you can't help puffing up a little as you pull the unconscious Frank from his chair and drop him to the floor, and you grin over his slack face and loose limbs. <i>Boo-yah!</i> you think. <i>Too fast for you again, Frank!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're stripped to a pair of freshly laundered boxers and sitting on your bed with the open <i>Personae</i> in your lap when Frank puts his head around the corner to look in. "Text from Dad," he says. "He's going to call in an hour or so."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," you mumble around the pencil you're chewing. You've got three of them: one in your mouth, one over your ear, and the third in your hand, hovering over the notebook at your side. "When he calls, let me do the talking. I'll tell him you're making a grocery run and haven't got back yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing, boss."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't call me 'boss', Frank," you tell him as he turns to go. "It's out of character. Just <i>remember</i> that I'm your boss."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes ... Joe."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh as he pads back down the hall. You had a better grip on him when he woke than you had on Joe: you were sitting on his chest, your knees on his shoulders. Not that it would have done you any good if it was the real Frank and not a fake, a <i>pedisequos,</i> as the <i>Personae</i> calls them. He would have thrown you so hard into the air your head would have gone through the ceiling. But even without his prodigies, Frank is dangerously strong. So you had him pinned, and the first thing out of your mouth when his eyes shot open was <i>Stop it! Don't move! Listen!</i><br/>
<br/>
You fear now that you took too much of the steam out of him as you talked him into his new role as a servant to your commands. One of the things that gives Frank charisma despite his withdrawn personality is the impression of immense, banked energies and pressures. On your second day at Eastman, Conor Nilsson, while watching Frank stalk off the court, turned to you and said, "I'd hate to be in front of your brother if he came charging in my direction." Though he is not impressively big—being only a shade over six feet, and lacking the barrel-chested heft of a Gordon Black—there is always the impression of a bow-wave in front of Frank, and of a heaving wake as he passes. But the Frank Durras who plodded about the kitchen this evening, cleaning it up after supper, looked like he had sprung a leak, and that all the steam pressure had sighed away. You'll have to do something about that. Maybe spend a day in his mask pumping him up again, getting him to act like himself. But like himself if he was on <i>your</i> side.<br/>
<br/>
But not right now. Right now you need Joe's brain. He's the smarter of the two, the one with all the specialized learning, and the one who can actually <i>read and digest</i> the <i>Summa Personae Libra</i> instead of merely using it as a cookbook, the way you were.<br/>
<br/>
The secret, you discerned almost at once on turning to the first spell, is in the sigil. The ingredients and the processes are, if not arbitrary, at least dependent upon the sigil. Rewrite the sigil, and a different set of ingredients would produce the same results. But you are pretty sure the sigils set down in the book are the simplest and most efficient possible for the task.<br/>
<br/>
They are certainly marvels of construction. You—<br/>
<br/>
Well, that is to say, Joe; it is so easy to identify with him, especially as your mind races along, absorbing and deciphering the <i>Personae.</i><br/>
<br/>
Anyway, Joe was trained from an early age to read and understand them, and he can construct simple ones with very little trouble. But such things are not really in his wheelhouse, and he lacked the patience to make anything more complicated than a kind of magical can opener.<br/>
<br/>
(Okay, he lacked the patience even for that. He was so proud of that sigil that he didn't even test it out before showing it to his teacher, Nash Carnes. Instead he ran to fetch can of corn chowder from the pantry, set it on the sigil, and summoned Nash in. The two watched—Joe with surprise and horror, Nash with a chortling amusement—as the can <i>unpeeled itself</i> into a spiral, with the chowder gushing out over the table and work top. Joe ground his teeth with embarrassment as Nash showed him where he had made his error.)<br/>
<br/>
But even for Joe, reading sigils is an exacting task, akin to deciphering a complicated math equation in his head and reducing it to its simplest expression, then doing the same to another formula and combining the results of the second operation with those of the first. Sigils are not pretty designs. They are a kind of code—instructions for manipulating the metaphysical dimensions of physical items. To understand them, you have to cast them symbol by symbol and line by line in your head, and in your head comprehend what would happen if they were cast in the world.<br/>
<br/>
But the sigils of the <i>Personae,</i> though seemingly as devilish and intricate as any that Joe tackled before, unfold elegantly to your understanding, as simple as "2+2; 3-3; 0+0."<br/>
<br/>
So the first spell makes an <i>imago,</i> that is, an <i>image</i> of a person, either by absorbing a copy of a person's <i>imago</i> or combining several such into a new <i>imago.</i> Once sealed with a <i>membrana</i> (the sealant made by the second spell) it can be worn by another person. The wearer's own <i>imago</i> is not transformed (as you would have originally suspected); rather, it is attached metaphysically (and temporarily) to the wearer and manifested in preference to the wearer's own <i>imago</i> on the material plane, like turning "heads" into "tails" by flipping the coin over.<br/>
<br/>
The third spell makes a <i>mens,</i> which is an imago of the mind. However, it does not replace the original <i>mens</i> on the physical plane but coexists alongside it. The mind, though a thing of the physical world, is like a shadow cast upon the physical brain by the non-physical spirit, and a <i>mens</i> is like a second shadow cast by a different light source (that light source, in the metaphor, being the <i>mens</i>) in the brain of the wearer.<br/>
<br/>
And so on through the book, through the construction of a <i>persona,</i> a <i>pedisequos,</i> a <i>vinctus,</i> and a <i>ludius,</i> until you reach that torn page.<br/>
<br/>
You wonder what Caleb made of that page. Ancient damage to the book? The attempt by religious fanatic to destroy a thing of evil?<br/>
<br/>
Oh, yes. Caleb ... You haven't told him where you are or what you're doing. You should do that before Joe and Frank's dad calls.<br/>
<br/>
Unless ... Given the kind of knowledge and power that is at your fingertips now ... Maybe you should ghost him and the others? They're no real use to you.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322411221111231212
author_id: seuzz
title: Caleb and Complications
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Well, maybe not," you tell Michael after a lengthy hesitation. "I don't know who those guys are, and after what I saw them do here today—" <br/>
<br/>
You glance around the still-wrecked kitchen, with its dishes and utensils hanging out of the cupboards, and its puddles of food and milk splashed across the floor. It's one thing to be standing in the middle of the wreck, and another to "remember" that the wreck was caused by a poltergeist while the two new basketball players coolly ignored the swirling mayhem. "I don't want to mess with them," you conclude, though you know it sounds lame.<br/>
<br/>
Michael studies your expression, then shrugs. "Okay, man, if you say so," he says. "I still kinda think—"<br/>
<br/>
But what he still kinda thinks is drowned out by a shriek from Kaylee, which she chases with a peal of hysterical laughter.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway," you tell your friend, "I think these guys are going to be a handful by themselves."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It doesn't take long for most of the kids—and you can hardly keep from thinking of them as kids, so awkward and puppy-like are they as they clamber over each other to share photos they've found on their cell phones—to settle on some candidates. It's almost all selfies that they have found, taken and uploaded to social media sites by your peers in the senior class, to show off a dress or a haircut or a bared torso or a new look. You have to wonder what Kelsey Blankenship and Chelsea Cooper and Steve Patterson—<br/>
<br/>
And Adrian Semple and Lee Reynolds and Jordan Fry—<br/>
<br/>
And Emily Sparks and Ceres Kesey—<br/>
<br/>
And Christian Padilla and Dean Stratton and James Brewer; Lori Sherman and Ximena Calderon and Trenton Schatz; and ... and ... and ... —<br/>
<br/>
What any of them or all them would think if they knew that they were posting a kind of advertisement for their faces and bodies. <br/>
<br/>
An advertisement and an incitement to be hijacked, replaced, and impersonated.<br/>
<br/>
Some are snapped up pretty quickly. Grant, for instance, is gleefully covetous of Chelsea Cooper, and is only anxious that his other friends pick bodies that will complement her. Bhodi and Paulina are also pretty quick to choose: Marc Garner and his girlfriend, Hannah Westrick, which makes sense given that Bhodi knows Marc slightly through the soccer program and so doesn't have to guess about what he'd be getting with Marc's body and life. For much the same kind of reason, Justin inclines toward taking the body and identity of Laurent Delacroix, the captain of the wrestling team, though he insists he's not completely settled on it. But Andy and Joe, after composing some lists, declare that they will wait until their friends are moved and can offer better suggestions, before deciding themselves.<br/>
<br/>
As for Evie Cummings—<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but that's a complication that gets revealed later.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
 None of the sophomores ask you or Caleb who you might be switching with, and neither of you volunteers any names. Not until the party has broken up that the topic gets addressed. Paulina is squatting in the living room with her cell phone; Michael is in the bathroom; and you and Bhodi are standing in the kitchen. He glances around at the mess, but doesn't remark on it.<br/>
<br/>
Instead he thanks you (awkwardly) for letting him borrow a copy of your brain. "That was pretty awesome of you," he says without meeting your gaze. He rubs his forehead. "It— It made a difference between me and Paulina, I think."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's okay," you tell him. "Glad to help. But I don't really think it made that huge a difference."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it really did," he insists. "I don't think I could'a—" He licks his lips. "I wouldn'a had the, uh, confidence, you know, if I didn't—" He breaks off. "Like, you had the confidence to break the ice with her when you, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you're the one who gave me the confidence," you insist. "I couldn't have ever talked to Paulina or a girl like her, except that, you know, I was pretending to be, uh, you." You can't help reddening at the reference to the time you kidnapped Bhodi and pretended to be him with his friends.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it worked out." Bhodi twists on his feet, and lurches, which is slightly scary because he's half a head taller than you. "Maybe," he continues, and his voice dies away almost to nothingness, "maybe, I can learn something from Marc, same I learned—" And then he does trail off.<br/>
<br/>
Which is just as well, because it was turning into a really embarrassing conversation.<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, Paulina comes striding in just then. She slides an arm around Bhodi's waist and pulls herself to him. "What about you and your friend?" she asks you. Her tone is a lot stronger, than Bhodi's. "I didn't catch who you guys were going to be."<br/>
<br/>
"Not decided yet. We're gonna look around, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, can you keep in mind someone for Evie?"<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment—so shocking is the question—to figure out that "Evie" is Evie Cummings.<br/>
<br/>
"Evie?" you bleat. "What does she—? Is she going to—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we need a face for her." She squeezes Bhodi. "That's not for everyone else to know, okay? Just us. Us and your friend Caleb, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the deal?" you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
The deal, as she explains it, isn't complicated, just a little weird. So Evie has also known what her friends have been getting up to, but has been very shy about jumping in. (Paulina doesn't say why she's so shy about it, and she doesn't speculate.) The only way she will join the fun, Paulina says, is if no one except Paulina (her best friend) and Bhodi (Paulina's S.O.) and you (as the guy running the project) know about it. "So," Paulina concludes, "you have to find her a place where she can sort of hang out with all of us, but mostly with Bhodi and me, without the other guys finding out or realizing it's her. Oh, and," she adds, "it has to be someone good. You know."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb has joined you by the point, and he gives you a long and skeptical look. But he doesn't say anything, not until after Bhodi and Paulina have left. Then he throws himself onto Dane's sofa and snorts at you.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is your problem?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"You," he retorts. "Why the fuck do things always have to be so goddamned complicated with you?" It's funny—in a creepy sort of way—to see and hear the gangly, gawky Michael Duncan cussing so casually.<br/>
<br/>
"What am I making complicated?"<br/>
<br/>
"Evie. Now we gotta find a spot for Evie, but we can't let anyone know about it. Jesus."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not the one who made it complicated! Paulina did! Evie did! She's the one who—!"<br/>
<br/>
"You know the real reason she wants it that way, don't you? Why she doesn't want anyone to know?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. So why don't you fucking enlighten me? Dipshit."<br/>
<br/>
"Go look in the mirror, Dane," he says, accenting the name. "Where'd you get that fucking haircut? You look like you got mange, like you had lice and had to shave it all off."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't change the subject, we're—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not changing the subject. Where'd Dane get the haircut, and who was wearing the mask when he got it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You fucking know. It was Evie." Your face starts to burn. "When she got sent out to that academy."<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly, and who's the one that got her sent out there? That's how come it's complicated," he continues, without waiting for you to <i>not</i> answer his question. "That's how come she doesn't want the other guys to know she's playing too. Because she's embarrassed. She shouldn't want to play, she should hate these things—" He points to his face, then to yours. "'Cos of the way she got hustled into one and then got hustled out of town and had her whole fucking life turned upside down—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah yeah yeah!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb smirks at you. "So she doesn't want to admit that she wants to play. She doesn't want to admit it's kind of cool. She doesn't want to admit that she'd kind of like to do to someone else what—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I get it, so shut up now. But how is it <i>my fucking fault,</i> cocksucker, that she's making it complicated?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you're the one that got her into all that shit. It all goes back to you, Will. This whole fucking—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck you." You throw your hands at him in disgust. "What makes you so smart?"<br/>
<br/>
"Natural brilliance, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
You fall into a chair opposite and glower at him. When he just smirks back, you shift to glowering at the wall behind him. You could point out that <i>he</i> was the one who started the mess by switching you and Gordon Black, but then he'd just find a way to shift the blame onto something you did farther back. Eventually he'd wind up blaming the world's woes on the fact that you were born. Sometimes he can be a real dick that way.<br/>
<br/>
"Well okay, whatever, so it's complicated," you finally snort at him. "Doesn't change that we gotta figure out a place for Evie."<br/>
<br/>
"You figure it out," he says. "I'm done with it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"You heard me. We're all going to be seniors now, which means I can do what I wanted to do almost from the start of this mess, and go back to being myself."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not gonna be someone else?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you before, Will, I want to be done with it. I'm gonna do it tonight. I'm gonna go find 'Caleb Johansson'—" He crooks his fingers around the name. "And I'm gonna let Michael Duncan loose and be myself again." He scratches at his thigh. "It's gonna be sweet."<br/>
<br/>
But you're not listening. You should get out of Dane's mask before those weirdos come back and start throwing things at him again, and you were going to switch back into Lindsay. But maybe it would be easier to pick up Michael's mask, if Caleb is going to discard it.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224112211112312122
author_id: seuzz
title: Swapping Out Players
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Well okay, if that's what you want to do," you grumble at Caleb. "But if you're not gonna use Michael's mask anymore, can I have it?"<br/>
<br/>
He rears back. "What? Why?"<br/>
<br/>
So you explain to him: How you need to get out of Dane's mask and you'd rather not switch back into Lindsay's, and if he's not going to be using Michael's anymore—<br/>
<br/>
He cuts you off. "Alright, alright," he says. "Jesus. Like I said, it's always so complicated with you."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not complicated," you retort, "it's the easiest—"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He didn't put any of that special paste into Michael's mask, so he is able to turn it over to you. First, though, you have drive over to his old house, because that's where he's lodged the real Michael Duncan.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's mom let's you in. She's a tired-looking woman, with bags under her eyes and tangled curls of hair that are showing more gray than chestnut these days. But she's gracious and calls back to her son. He comes wandering out from the back of their dumpy little house with a dopey look on his face. It turns even dopier—boggle-eyed, even—when he sees who has called on him, but he tries to cover it by shoving his enormous hands into the front of his jeans and rocking on his feet. "So, 'sup?" he asks, and grins greenly at you.<br/>
<br/>
"That school project we're working on?" Michael wheezes nasally at him. "Didn't you get our text we were coming over?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says, looking panicked. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's go back and talk about it now," Michael says.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb rolls his eyes so you can see the whites of them, and leads you back into the bedroom. The fake Caleb, you notice, doesn't do any better job of keeping his room picked up than the original did. The desk is piled up with books and papers, and the coverlet has slipped halfway off the bed.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, what's the matter with you?" Michael demands after you've shut yourselves in. <br/>
<br/>
"Nothing's the matter," fake-Caleb retorts, "except I got Dane Fucking Matthias in my house." He snorts up a lungful of air through his enormous schnozz. "At least he doesn't <i>smell</i> like he's been toking up.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," you mutter. Michael says, "This is Will."<br/>
<br/>
Fake-Caleb only gives you a fish-eyed glare. "Jesus. Then can we take him out someplace, the old quarry maybe, and leave him for the gypsies to find?"<br/>
<br/>
You wheel on Michael. "Is this what you really think of me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lately, yes." He snaps his fingers at his replacement. "I want my old face back. Get on the bed and take off your clothes."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God," the thing replies as it starts to take off its pants. "If Mom comes in and finds us like this—"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
If it were only as simple as taking Caleb's mask off of Michael. Your best friend (both versions) has plenty of occasion to complain about "complications" after you stop him and point out that certain masks need to come off of certain people before certain other people can put them on. It's a wearisome argument that follows, but it finally ends—or starts, rather—with you stretched out on the bed next to the fake Caleb while the real one (still looking like Michael) bends over to pull the masks off the both of you.<br/>
<br/>
And when you wake again—stiff and groggy, and with a feeling like having been ripped in half—you have to clamber off the bed and strip off Dane Matthias's clothes, which you pass to a new Dane Matthias who is sitting at Caleb's desk with a freaked-out expression on his face. Then you have to lean (nakedly) over Michael Duncan to tear an invisible mask off of his face, revealing Caleb. You shake and slap him awake, and he cusses at you after wrenching his eyes open. Then he fumbles himself out of Michael's clothes and you lay back down on the bed and let him drop a mask onto you. You've the feeling of being turned inside out and tied up in knots by the time you've pulled yourself into Michael's jeans and hoodie.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm not going to take you home," the restored-to-himself Caleb honks when you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"You drove me out here," you point out. "Me and Dane." You point to the new fake, who is cowering still at Caleb's desk.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb rolls his eyes. "Michael drove you out," he retorts. "In Michael's car. You're Michael now. Look in a mirror if you don't believe me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah." The memory of steering Michael Duncan's dusty sedan out to Caleb's now returns to you. You grind a knuckle into your forehead, then flap out Michael's trucker cap and jam it down over your thick, wiry hair. "See you tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"For what, the classes me and Michael have together?"<br/>
<br/>
"To help the guys! To start making replacements."<br/>
<br/>
"You help the guys. How hell'm I supposed to get you up and close to Chelsea Cooper or Marc Garner?"<br/>
<br/>
"But—"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb seizes you by your bony shoulders and propels you toward the door.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll see you when you're all set up," he says as he thrusts you into the hallway. "Right now, I just want to go to bed and sleep for eighteen hours."<br/>
<br/>
Then he pushes Dane out, and shuts and locks the door on you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At least you've got your new brain—Michael Duncan's brain—screwed in right by the time you've dropped Dane off at his trailer and are on your way back home. Michael lives in a shabby part of town in a tired, shabby little house, but his mom and dad keep the yard tidy, and the only really nasty thing about the neighborhood is the Rottweiler that likes to hurl itself, in a slavering, barking frenzy, against the fence of the house next door when it hears you pulling into the driveway.<br/>
<br/>
"Michael? Did you have dinner while you were out?" your new mom calls from the living room when she hears you in the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" you shout back as you dig a fistful of Chex Mix out of a bag. Except you didn't, and you're starving. "Just ge'ing a snack!" you mumble with a full mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"There's leftover mac-and-weenies in the fridge!"<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome! T'anks!" You jam the Chex bag back in the pantry and rip open the refrigerator. Atop the mac-and-weenies you pile some pickles, a tube of string cheese, a wadded-up hunk of shredded deli meat, and a cold dinner roll. You carry it, balanced in the crook of your arm, with a bottle of cola, back toward your bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said you ate dinner," your mom says as you pass her in the living room,. She's short and roly-poly, with a kittenish face. <br/>
<br/>
"'Z'jus' s'm sa'wiches," you mumble, for your mouth is full again. "We go' takeout fr'm th'deli."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." She looks amused. Maybe a little envious, too. She's shaped like a loaf of unbaked bread dough. Her son is shaped like a rake handle.<br/>
<br/>
You kick the bedroom door closed behind you, lay the food out on the desk, and kick back with Michael's cell phone. There's messages from a bunch of his friends, and you pop food down your gullet and suck on your teeth as you scroll through, prioritizing them. The texts from Lucas Mack and Madeline Miller will just be questions about the English class you share with them. There's a text from Grant Lowery, but that would be the fake Grant Lowery, and when you read it, it's a question about Geometry. There's a business question from Bhodi, though, asking if you know if Marc Garner has any old girlfriends. <i>Dontknow,</i> you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
But priority of place has to go to the text from Evie, asking if you can call and talk.<br/>
<br/>
Your cock stirs, and you have to dig at a sudden itch behind your left eyeball.<br/>
<br/>
Michael hasn't got a crush on Evie or anything, but he gets short of breath whenever a girl he doesn't know (or doesn't know well) tries to talk to him. If you yourself didn't know Evie already, you might even have to put your head between your knees until the risk of hyperventilation passes.<br/>
<br/>
Because, really, how mortifying would it be for your mom to look into your room and find you passed out on the floor from sexual excitement with an unfurled penis pointing at the ceiling like a flagpole?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Dang,</i> but you forgot what it was like to be a sexually obsessed and sexually starved sixteen-year-old. And Michael seems to have it even worse than you ever did. You shiver a couple of times as you tap in a reply to Evie.<br/>
<br/>
"Hi, thanks for calling," she says in a hushed, shy voice when you connect by phone. She makes a noise, like swallowing. "Um, Paulina says she talked to you and your friend. So, um, you know what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you croak.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to use text or email," she says, and she talks so softly that her words are almost inaudible. "You know, I don't want anyone being able to find out about—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I get it. It's best just to talk," you agree. "No traces."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." Her voice fades away almost to nothing. "So. What—?" There comes that same wet-sounding rattle, the sound of her swallowing. "What are you and—? Um. Thinking?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean as a, uh, person for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." She might be a ghost, so softly does she answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Well—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll let you pick," she says, and now she sounds desperate. "Maybe you should pick? You know the people, who— Who it could be. A lot better than ... me?"<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if she's on the verge of crying.<br/>
<br/>
It must be tough for her, you reflect, tougher even than Caleb thought. Maybe she's creeped out by the fakes that her friends left behind. Maybe she doesn't even want to become someone else, maybe she's just terrified of being left behind by her friends.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it would be easier for her if you picked her out a new identity. But at the same time you do feel like it really should be her choice.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132241122111123121222
author_id: seuzz
title: Michael Duncan's Day
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Well, you know, I think," you stammer. Your chest tightens, as though loops of steel are being drawn around it. "I think it should be up to you who, uh ... Yeah, who you pick." Your voice quavers. "I mean, I know, it's tough. You don't, uh, really know a lot of the guys in the senior class, right? Except for, uh, some of the girls on the soccer team?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm-hmm," Evie says. "I don't think I want ... there."<br/>
<br/>
"Did Paulina talk to you about what she and, uh, Bhodi, what they're ... doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
You can't help gulping. "Well, it's good for you that Paulina's picked Hannah, right? Doesn't she, Hannah, kind of make things hard for you on the soccer team?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. But, you know, that won't be a problem after, um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
You're shaking all over by now. Part of it is the stress of tiptoeing around a subject that Evie seems loathe to address directly. Part of it too, you realize with a start, is how much Michael Duncan himself doesn't like talking about it. The thought, <i>This is really wrong!</i> keeps ringing in your head.<br/>
<br/>
But, stumble by stumble, stammer by stammer, you work it out with Evie. She will wait for her friends to make the switch, and then she will consult with them and maybe with you too, to pick someone out of a pool of candidates. When you hang up, you are trembling so hard you have to go for a run around the block to get the shakes out of you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a hank of toast jammed between your teeth as you hurl yourself out the front door the next morning with your backpack bouncing off your shoulder blades. You throw it and yourself into the car, resettle the cap on your head, and pound the accelerator until the sedan reluctantly comes to life. You jackrabbit backwards out of the driveway, and tear off toward the school. You're going to be late if you don't make up for it with green lights.<br/>
<br/>
Except for the fact that you're driving a sedan and not a pickup truck, it's almost like your old life again.<br/>
<br/>
You woke to the alarm on your cell phone, and nursed a hard erection during the snooze period before you woke yourself up. Then, remembering where you were, you hurled yourself into the shower where you soaped and washed down a body that is only a little scrawnier than your original. You let your thatch of bushy hair—darker and not as stiff than your real hair—air dry as you jumped into narrow-hipped jeans, a rag-like t-shirt, a gray hoodie, and ratty sneakers. You shoved books willy-nilly into your book bag, and pounded into the kitchen to grab a quick bite and money for the cafeteria before your mom could yell at you a third time that you were going to be late. There's a traffic jam at the entrance to the Westside student parking lot, and you testily slap the sedan's console with a flipper-like hand as you wait for the other tardy students to squeeze through the entrance and pour into the lot like a wave of cold pancake syrup.<br/>
<br/>
The other big difference is that Michael, despite being the kind of total nerd and goofball who takes real classes (including three AP classes), has a lot more friends than you ever did.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh my God!" You throw your head back in a hard whinny, and kick at the desk in front of you. "So when she poured the M&amp;Ms out, I was like, You know those little pellets that rabbit leave in their cages? You know, like after they eat?" You snort back a wad of snot. "And I point down into the bowl, and Julie's like, Eww! and she hits me!" Your legs jerks and you kick the desk again.<br/>
<br/>
It's fourth-period AP English, and you're in a study circle with friends and classmates: Lucas Mack and Madeline Miller; James Randolph and Karen Beecher. You're supposed to be talking about Nathaniel Hawthorne's "Young Goodman Brown," but you're regaling them instead about what you said and did at stuck-up Julie Eckler's party last weekend.<br/>
<br/>
In the next circle over, Lindsay Cho gives you a dark look. Well, that's to be expected. She wasn't happy last period, in Speech class, when she discovered that her idiot partner was now her boss and that she had to do whatever he told her.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, wait wait wait." Lucas grins. "You know what next time you should do? You know those party mixes with like with those brown things in them? Like croutons?" He slaps his open palm over his face to control the laughter that's welling up. "You ever notice how much those things look like dog food? Like the dried pellet kind?" You guffaw and stomp the floor. "So next time you need to take a baggie of—"<br/>
<br/>
"There's not going to be a next time," Madeline retorts, though her face is shining pinkly with laughter. "She's not ever gonna have you out to her house again."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll just hitch a ride with someone else," you chortle.<br/>
<br/>
James, a lithe blonde on the JV basketball squad smiles, though his expression is a little tight. "Maybe we should get back to the book?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, thphbt! Mz. Goretsky's off getting hammered in the teacher's lounge. Yo! Here!" You signal the other side of the room, where Matthew Adams and his group are tossing a crumpled-up ball of paper at each other. Matthew hurls it over and it goes wide so that you have lean almost perpendicular to catch it with an outstretched arm. You pop it over to James. "See if you can sink a three-pointer, man."<br/>
<br/>
He clucks his tongue, but straightens up in his seat, calculates the distance and trajectory, and drops the crumpled ball into the metal basket. "Whoop!" you cheer, and slap him with a high-five.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have Evie for two classes, but you don't get a chance to talk to her, being occupied with other kids, and when you sidle up to her after last period, to ask what she's going to be doing after school, she tells you that she's waiting to hear from Paulina. "Cool." You rub your nose. "Well, um, if you need me, my help or just to talk, let me know." She tells you that she will.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves you at a bit of a loss, but you cover it by hooking up with Lucas and Madeline and some other kids at the McDonalds after school, where you share a mess of fries, some burgers, and cell phones. You have to be careful about showing your own phone, though, after Caleb texts to tell you he's transporting blank masks and supplies out to Bhodi's house. But that's all you hear from anyone, and you soon forget all about him and Evie and everyone else when you and a dozen other kids form a caravan up to the mall for mini-golf and go-kart racing that lasts until ten o'clock.<br/>
<br/>
The next morning, though, you wake to a text from an unexpected source.<br/>
<br/>
Marc Garner.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Marc's face is cherry red as he grins back at you. His eyes glint and the gelled spikes of his hair bristle. He squirms and twists in the booth across from you, like he's trying to wriggle out of his clothes and skin.<br/>
<br/>
What's he got to be so squirmy about? Probably it's because his girlfriend is snuggled up close to him. And though he's got his fingers twined up as he leans forward on his elbows, Hannah Westrick has her hands under the table. She grins at the side of his head as he gasps and stutters and chokes.<br/>
<br/>
It's after school and you're at a McDonald's again. Of course, you were surprised to have gotten a text from Marc. For as far as you know, he doesn't even know that Michael Duncan exists, and you weren't expecting him to get acquainted with Michael quite so fast.<br/>
<br/>
"It was Gabriela," Marc gasps. He arcs his back and blinks rapidly as his grin turns even stiffer and glassier. "She, uh, called up Hannah last night and— Nngh! Went out to see her. She had, uh, Paulina with her." He hiccups, sort of. "And then, after that, she— Hannah, you know." He snorts and chokes. "She called up Marc. 'Cos—" A spasm runs through him, and he blinks a sudden wetness from his eyes; but his grin widens and brightens even more. "So they got together. She got in his lap. And. Jesus." He looks up at the ceiling; his Adam's apple bobbles hard in his throat.<br/>
<br/>
"Where was Bhodi when all this was going on?"<br/>
<br/>
Hannah has to answer for her boyfriend, who has gone rigid as he saws a hole in the ceiling with his grin. "We were out at the river," she tells you with a sly, sidelong smile. "Bhodi was in a car a little ways down. Then he got in the minivan with us, and then he—" She makes some move under the table, and Marc levitates a couple of inches. "Then he got into Marc, and Marc got into me. Didn't you, stud?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," the captain of the soccer team squeaks.<br/>
<br/>
"Right," you say. You really want to follow it up with, <i>I didn't come out here to watch you jerk your boyfriend off under the table,</i> but instead you ask her about Evie.<br/>
<br/>
"We've been thinking about that, talking about it. We'll let you know."<br/>
<br/>
<i>So why am I here talking to you?</i> you want to shout.<br/>
<br/>
As if reading your mind, Hannah asks, "Where were you thinking about going? After Michael here?"<br/>
<br/>
You've not thought about it. You've been waiting for other decisions.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you should talk to these guys about it.<br/>
<br/>
And about how Evie might fit in with your plans.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322411221111231212222
author_id: seuzz
title: Other Kinds of Replacement
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You parry Hannah's question with one of your own. "Have you been thinking about where to put the other guys? I mean, I figure I can kind of fit in wherever the rest of them are going to end up."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we been thinking about it." Marc's hands disappear under the table as he slides down in his seat. His expression tightens as he struggles down there with Hannah. "Got ... ideas," he gasps, and wrenches her hands up onto the table, where he pins them down. She snickers.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Andy ... I think Austin would be a good place for him. Austin Dougherty, you know?" Not really, you don't, so you shrug. "He's on the soccer team, one of Marc's friends."<br/>
<br/>
Hannah says, "I still say we give him Marcos."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God. Like he could handle Marcos."<br/>
<br/>
"Like <i>you</i> handle Marc," she retorts with a giggle.<br/>
<br/>
"'S'what I mean. I can barely fucking handle you, wench, how ya think Andy could handle Marcos an' his—"<br/>
<br/>
You start to tune out. As embarrassed (and disgusted) as you are by the extreme PDA in the booth across from you, you are getting a sympathetic arousal, like one tuning fork picking up the vibrations from another. So the rest of what they have to say about guys with names like Austin and Marcos and Chris, and Jeremy and Nathan and Cole; Laurent and Brownie and Ethan and Devin; and others— It all just sort of washes past as your concentration starts to go. Not until Evie's name pops up again do you pull yourself from a distracted reverie.<br/>
<br/>
But they have hardly anything to say about her, except that it's going to hard figuring out an identity for her. But neither has much to say when you ask why that is.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There were two names they mentioned in passing, though, that also briefly caught your ear. Joe and Frank Durras.<br/>
<br/>
In one way, it's very lucky that you switched over into Michael's mask. He's a geek and an AP nerd, but he also pays attention to the Westside sports scene, so you're now in a much better spot to understand who they are and where they came from, and why it's so weird that they are now at Westside.<br/>
<br/>
They were students at Eastman, members of your crosstown rival's basketball squad, who last week transferred over to Westside. It's a big story, if you're into high school sports, for both brothers had been bright spots on the Eastman roster—Joe showing an almost uncanny speed and dexterity, and Frank a brutal power and ability to nail baskets from far down court. They were two of the most potent threats on the Eastman team, so it is a real coup to have them switch schools.<br/>
<br/>
Of more interest to you than to Michael, though, is the story behind them. There weren't just new to Westside, they were also new to Eastman, having entered that school just this year and having entered it late—at the start of September, as a matter of fact.<br/>
<br/>
In other words: Not long before you found that grimoire at Arnholm's.<br/>
<br/>
What that means, exactly, of course you can't say. Yet it's hard to shake the suspicion that they're interested in more than just "Gordon's" wacky stories about being body-swapped. Would they have gone out to Dane's, to ask if he was really Gordon, if they didn't take stories about body-swapping seriously? And if they showed up in town around about the same time that you found that grimoire, might they know a lot more about the kind of thing that's going on? Maybe they have some connection to it?<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it was theirs, and they lost it somehow, and they want it back?<br/>
<br/>
You watched all day for a text from Dane, to hear if the Durrases had gone back out to see him, but you never got one. And you're reluctant to send him one yourself, for fear that they might see it and trace things back to you. (Maybe the golem had the same idea too, which is why it didn't contact you.) For the same reason you're reluctant to drive out to Dane's trailer, in case they are there or are watching it.<br/>
<br/>
So when you happen to get a text from Luke Bryant, you shoot back a quick reply: <i>Hear anything about where new basketball players might be today? Like parties n stuff?</i> Luke—who tried out for but failed to make the JV basketball squad this year—is even more into the WHS sports scene than Michael.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't know anything, but with his help you cobble together a group of kids who will know more about what's going on with the new guys than you will be able to find out on your own.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I just don't get it," Bridget Atwater snorts. She plays with the straw of her soda. "Just because they had to replace Gordon, doesn't mean they had to have tryouts all over again!"<br/>
<br/>
"But they had two new guys joining the team," Jared Cochrane retorts. "So they had to get rid of somebody else in order to— I mean, unless you just wanted to—"<br/>
<br/>
"So just add both of them! Seriously, I don't get how come there can only be, what is it—?" She turns to the rest of the table. "Thirteen guys on the team? It's bad luck anyway!" She shoves the straw in her mouth and sucks long and hard at her shake.<br/>
<br/>
It's six of you at the McDonalds, supposedly getting together to do homework, but the topic is the basketball squad. You and Luke and Jared are just fans, as is the tomboyish Bridget. James Randolph and Darrell Jackson, though, are on the JV squad.<br/>
<br/>
So it's James who shrugs and replies, "There's thirteen guys and there's always just thirteen guys."<br/>
<br/>
"There's sixteen on the JV squad!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's supposed to make you hungry," Darrell says. He leans back and pulls his hood up farther up over his shaggy brown hair. "More players than places."<br/>
<br/>
"Bridget's just ticked," Jared says with a grin, "'cos they got rid of Jeremy Richards. She had a crush on him. Ow!" He springs back in his seat from the scowling Bridget with a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you haven't learned much about Joe and Frank Durras, but there's been some informative and surprising news anyway. In addition to replacing Gordon with one of the transfer students, the squad used the opportunity to hold tryouts all over again, with the result that three other players got cut and replaced.<br/>
<br/>
No one at the table is much shocked that Jeremy Richards got bounced, for all of them, including Michael Duncan, had grumbled that Richards was one of the weakest of the players at the practices they'd watched, and it made sense that the coach would want to replace him with one of the Eastman transfers.<br/>
<br/>
There's a little more surprise at Darren Green and Dylan Lloyd being cut, for they were solid if not spectacular players. The real shock is who they were replaced by.<br/>
<br/>
"Roman and Scott say Dortch was really good when he was in JV a few years ago," James assures you all. That would be Adam Dortch, a guy neither you nor Michael ever heard of.<br/>
<br/>
"So why'd he quit?" Luke asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Go ask him. But it'll be okay. I mean, Roman says that Steve Patterson is the world's biggest asshole, but he wouldn't cut, uh—" He gives Bridget the quickest glance. "Uh, Dylan Lloyd for Dortch if he didn't think Dortch was better."<br/>
<br/>
"And this Prescott doof?" Bridget says. "I mean, come on!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's the one I don't get," James admits. "No one I talked to's even <i>heard</i> of him."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sounds pretty random," you reply with a forced laugh. When what you want to say is, <i>Fuck you, Randolph, I never heard you either until I turned myself into this nobody.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
No word comes from Dane all evening, or from anyone else for that matter. The next day is, for Michael Duncan, a regular school day, though you pass most of it in the jumpy expectation that at any moment a hand will be laid on your shoulder and you will be wheeled around to confront ... Somebody. (It could be anyone, there are so many possibilities.) But the "hand" doesn't clutch you until you're home from school, and even then it comes in the form of a text from Marc.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry to get you involved like this," he apologizes again after picking you up in a minivan. "We told Evie we could take care of it with just us, but she said she wanted an expert along." He checks his mirror and blind side, then smoothly changes lanes. "I mean," he snorts, "it's not like we didn't take care of Chelsea last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, you what?" This is the first you've heard of this.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea," he repeats. "And Grant. Didn't Paulina tell you, text you?" You shake your head. "Frick. Well, we got her out to, uh, Hannah's place and got her and Grant switched." He shifts in his seat. "Grant says she thought she was gonna be hooking up with <i>me,</i> but I think he was just fucking with me. I mean, we were over at Hannah's, right?"<br/>
<br/>
It sounds to you like Bhodi was more than half-hoping that Grant was telling the truth, but you only nod. "But what about Evie?" You're trying to play it cool, but you're dying of curiosity to know who she's chosen for her alias.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, yeah, we're doing that out at Hannah's, too. On account of—pff!—I got sisters now, all of a sudden."<br/>
<br/>
"Makes sense."<br/>
<br/>
But Marc doesn't reply. At last, you can't stand it anymore. Your own decision is in suspense until you know where Evie is going to wind up. "So who, uh, is Evie going to be?" Your heart is hammering as you ask it.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, we picked out Jack Li for her."<br/>
<br/>
It's like a punch to the side of the head. <i>Evie is going to be a guy?</i><br/>
<br/>
That doesn't at all fit in with the plans you had for you and her.<br/>
<br/>
Plans that, only now in this moment of shock, you suddenly realize had been swirling around in your head.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224112211112312122221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Old Special Friend Ploy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Wait," you say. "Evie wants to be, uh,  a guy?"<br/>
<br/>
Marc snerks through his nose. "Well," he says, "Evie wanted to try things out as a dude, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"How come?" You would think that, if anything, after getting shoved so rudely into Dane Matthias's mask, Evie would have a phobia about having a guy's body again.<br/>
<br/>
"Ask her. But it was also just kind of convenient to do it this way, with Jack."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He brakes to a stop at an intersection. "So, you know, Evie wants to hang out close to us, me and Paulina. Especially Paulina. And Paulina said it might look kind of weird if Evie was a girlfriend of Hannah's hanging out with us so much, like it might look like whoever that girl was, she was coming on to me? You know?" He grins raffishly. "Anyway, that's what Paulina said." He shifts in his seat, spreading his legs, and you quickly turn away to stare at the road ahead when you realize he's trying to accommodate a spreading boner. <br/>
<br/>
"And it would be kind of the same thing," he continues, "if she was one of, um, Marc's guy friends, like if she came in and was Austin or Marcos or one of them. Like he was, you know, coming on to Hannah."<br/>
<br/>
"But you all decided that was the way to go."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah. It just made sense. You know, we couldn't go with"—he punches the accelerator, and the minivan jumps out into the intersection—"with her being, like, whatsername. Jelena."<br/>
<br/>
"Jelena?" you echo.<br/>
<br/>
"She's in Slow Fast Hazel?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I know who you're talking about. I just don't know what the problem is. Would be."<br/>
<br/>
A pink flush creeps into Marc's still-tanned cheeks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, 'cos then it would it kinda look like, you know, her and Hannah were—" He bites on a smile and squirms in his seat. "You know, Hannah's kind of, um, affectionate. And free with it. And if her and Jelena started hanging out together all the time, even if I was there, you know, along—" His flush deepens to crimson. "People might think that they were, um—" He purses his lips and shuts up.<br/>
<br/>
Frankly, you're not entirely certain what he's trying to say, but you make the crude surmise that he and the girls wouldn't want people getting the idea that Hannah and Jelena (who is out and open as a lesbian) were making out with each other.<br/>
<br/>
You still don't see how it's much different if this "Jack Lee" is going to start hanging out with them. Won't people gossip about how he's trying to score with Hannah? But you decide that it's all just too confusing to worry about, and presumably they all know what they're doing. <br/>
<br/>
So even when Marc says, "Of course, no one's going to make that mistake with Jack," you just nod and accept it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Marc texts Hannah when you're parked in the driveway of her house—at least you assume its Hannah's house—and you wait to get out until she comes out her front door. After a quick "Hey" and a twinkle at you, she grabs her boyfriend by the bicep, pushes him up against the minivan, and gives him a series of quick, biting kisses. You have to turn away to hide your blushes—and your boner.<br/>
<br/>
"You can go inside and wait," Hannah tells you during a break in the smooching. "Evie's in there. We're just waiting for Jack to show up."<br/>
<br/>
"Think I will do that," you reply. Hannah makes no reply. When you glance back, her face is in Marc's.<br/>
<br/>
You find Evie in a den, slumped on a divan, studying her cell phone with a worried frown. She looks up when you say "Hey" at her, then pales a little. "Hey," she gulps. "Is it, uh— Is he here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who? Jack? No. Just me and, uh, Marc."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." She rubs a palm on her pants leg. You both start at the sound of dishes clattering in another room. Evie mutters something that sounds like <i>Hannah's mom,</i> then looks back down at her phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to be okay?" you ask her. "I mean, if you don't want to do this—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's okay," she blurts. "I'm just nervous about ... doing it. You know."<br/>
<br/>
It suddenly occurs to you, with mordant humor and some slight horror, that if anyone was eavesdropping, they'd probably think that she was talking about her going out to lose her virginity. You lurch forward to settle on the divan next to her. She shrinks away.<br/>
<br/>
"Can I ask you," you say in a quiet voice, "how you got mixed up in all this? I don't mean," you hastily add as you feel yourself redden, "about the stuff with Dane and all. That— I mean— Obviously I know all about that." You almost feel yourself falling into pieces as Evie looks up at you with wide eyes. "I mean with—" You lick your lips. "Paulina and Bhodi and—what they're doing. Paulina told you about what Bhodi and his friends, and us, what we were doing?"<br/>
<br/>
Evie stares at you without blinking, and her nostrils flare slightly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." She breathes the word so softly you hardly hear it. "She told me—the guys—you were helping them—doing the thing with the masks. Paulina was going to do it too, she said. So I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Why did Paulina tell you? About it all?"<br/>
<br/>
She reacts as though you slapped her. "Because she's my <i>friend?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah. But I mean, Lindsay is her friend too. Is she going to tell Lindsay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God, no. Lindsay hates this stuff!"<br/>
<br/>
"But you're okay with it? It just surprises me, is all," you continue as her jaw tightens. "After what, um— The thing with Dane."<br/>
<br/>
Evie looks away. Her face is splotched with white and crimson, like a rash.<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't speak for a very long moment. Then she says, so faintly you can hardly hear her, "I guess I wanted to get on the horse again?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't know what to say in reply. It hardly makes sense. <i>Get back on the horse?</i> That's what you say when you fail at something you wanted to do, and Evie didn't want to get herself turned into Dane Matthias.<br/>
<br/>
Before you can puzzle out a reply, though, the front door opens and Hannah gestures at you. "Jack's here," she says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a cherry-colored minivan parked next to Marc's, but there's no sign of anyone else. But the sliding door of Marc's minivan is now open, and Marc hops out of it into the driveway. "Hey, he's in there," he tells Evie, jerking his chin at her.<br/>
<br/>
"Is he—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Waitin' for ya. Well, it'll be a couple of minutes before the first part's ready."<br/>
<br/>
Evie shuffles up to the minivan, and leans in. You follow, to look in over her shoulder. There's a figure bundled up in one of the seats. He's dressed in jeans and a burgundy, long-sleeve shirt, and he has a thatch of coffee-black hair and olive-colored skin. There's something peculiar about the cast of his face, and it takes you a moment to realize that he's Asian.<br/>
<br/>
"Who is this guy?" you ask Marc.<br/>
<br/>
"Jack Li." He blinks. "You don't know him?" You shake your head. "Yeah, he's in the marching band. Color guard. You haven't seen him around?"<br/>
<br/>
The only Chinese guy you pay attention to is Gary Chen, and that's because he's a drug-dealing thug it's best to stay away from. "I don't know a lot of people in the marching band."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. I thought everyone knows him at school, he's pretty sociable. That's another reason, I guess, we picked him out." He leans in to murmur in your ear. "Though, you know, not the <i>main</i> reason."<br/>
<br/>
"But Marc and Hannah know him."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. We told him he was coming out to meet Chelsea. Hannah gave him a story about the cheerleaders wanting to do something with the color guard. Pfft!"<br/>
<br/>
But you're not paying attention. Evie has clambered into the minivan and is sitting next to the unconscious Jack, studying his face closely.<br/>
<br/>
"After, uh, she gets changed and stuff," you say to Marc, "maybe she and I can talk about someone I could be. Some friend of Jack's."<br/>
<br/>
His expression turns puckish. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure," he says. "You can hang out with me and Hannah too. And Jack's got lots of friends." Then he says, with a slight laugh, "Though not a lot of them are gay, I don't think."<br/>
<br/>
That's a weird thing to say. "What's that got to do with anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh nothing. Unless." He grins wolfishly and slaps you in the chest. "You wanna see what it's like playing for the other team."<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself blushing hard. "What other team?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jack's team." His brow crinkles when you don't reply. "Jack's gay," he finally says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, with that finally out in the open, he explains again the reasoning for picking out Jack Li as an alias for Evie. Besides Jack's being highly sociable, and Evie's inclining to try out a male persona again, Jack's orientation wouldn't cause any gossip if he latches hard onto Hannah, becoming her best friend, or even better of a friend than her boyfriend, Marc.<br/>
<br/>
It does raise a question for you, though, about how to keep close to Evie in her new guise.<br/>
<br/>
And aren't there some other goals that you should be helping out with?</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132242
author_id: seuzz
title: The Taming of a Shrew
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're squatting on a saggy sofa—feet on the cushions, your chin on your knees—when the front door is yanked open and Lindsay comes in.<br/>
<br/>
Your first, very uncharitable thought, is that she looks like a pissed-off troll.<br/>
<br/>
Your second impression isn't much better.<br/>
<br/>
Her face is set in a hard, truculent glower under a comically over-large trucker hat, and her shoulders are hunched up about her ears. Her lips are parted in a soft frown. Her dark eyes dart about, and what little light is in them dies when they settle on you. Caleb, following her in, stumbles into her, and she shoots him a dirty look over her shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you greet her. "Thanks for coming."<br/>
<br/>
She glares back.<br/>
<br/>
"Making yourself comfortable, I see," she says, and clucks her tongue. "Your friend says you're gonna be moving in here." She looks around again, and sniffs.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck it.</i> You don't have time for this attitude, not when you can fix it for her. You dip a hand into the paper sack at your side and pull out the metal band. "Yeah, well," you say as you saunter up to her, "someone's gonna be moving in here. Only it's not gonna be me." Her eyes go wide as you slap the brain band onto her forehead.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment she hangs there. Then her legs fold up under her.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, Will!" Caleb shouts, and he grabs her behind. But she drags him to the floor as she slumps. "D'oph!" His eyes bulge as she knocks the wind from him.<br/>
<br/>
You squat to help pull her off him. "That was pretty funny," you say, "the way she went down."<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't so funny being the guy who went down under her," Caleb says as he scrambles free. "Oh, and were you practicing that line while I was gone? About <i>someone</i> not you moving in?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was a pretty great line, right? Nah, it just came to me."<br/>
<br/>
"It sounds like something that would come to Tilley. Never mind," he says as you flip him the bird. "Let's get her back to the bedroom."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So I was thinking," you tell Caleb as you drag Lindsay down the hall—you've got her by the wrists; he's got her by the ankles—"that maybe I don't <i>have</i> to become her."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck? Then why the hell are we herniating ourselves by— Ungh!" He bumps his skinny ass against the doorframe of Dane's bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
"What I mean is, why can't we turn her into a golem, and just order her around?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought that's what we were doing." Together, you and Caleb lift and loft Lindsay onto Dane's bed. "Turn her into a golem that looks like Dane and thinks like you," he pants.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean one that looks like her and thinks like her. But has to follow our orders." <i>My orders,</i> you silently correct yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb frowns at you.<br/>
<br/>
"So, we make the mask of her," you explain, "and the brain band, and then we put the golem paint into mask, like we were going to do to Dane's mask. I mean, if that was going to turn her into a golem that looked like Dane, wouldn't doing it the other way turn her into a golem that looks like her? And it'd have to obey me?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb sucks on his lip. "I don't know," he says after a long silence. "It would be a mask of <i>her,</i> so maybe she'd be awake and in control of it. That's what happens with me and my mask. Yeah," he continues when you frown at him. "That mask I'm using to make a golem of me? It's got the golem paint in it, but when I put it on, I don't turn into a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"So you just walk around with that mask on, pretending to be yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. What happens is I fall asleep, but when I wake up I get all the memories that were in the mask. It's like, I send golem-me to school, it does its stuff as me, and I put the mask on again when it gets home, suck the memories out. That way, I get to stay home, but also know and remember everything it did at school as me. So I'm not missing anything."<br/>
<br/>
You whistle. "Pretty convenient. So you think that's what would happen with Lindsay, if we put her mask back on her?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He frowns, and his gaze goes distant.<br/>
<br/>
"'m not sure," he says. "'Cos the mask of me we used my hair in it, so it has to obey me. When I put it on, maybe that cancels out my hair? But we'd be using <i>your</i> hair in her mask." His frown deepens. "So maybe it would work the way you think it would?"<br/>
<br/>
"We could try."<br/>
<br/>
"Could go wrong pretty spectacularly," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"There's two of us. And I got Dane's mask all prepped. If she starts fighting, we can hit her with it."<br/>
<br/>
He snorts. "You just don't want to turn yourself into Lindsay Cho."<br/>
<br/>
"Damn right I don't. I just don't want to have to worry about her."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shrugs, and agrees to try out your idea.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You son of a bitch!" Lindsay Cho snarls. Her face is almost purple with anger. "What did you do to me?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're trying to fix your attitude," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Slap yourself again," Caleb orders her. She only glares at him; the angry welt on her left cheek is still livid.<br/>
<br/>
"Slap yourself again," you order her, and she winces and gasps as she complies. "Now bite Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"Will! Jesus!" Caleb scrambles off the bed as Lindsay lunges at him, grabbing his arm and trying to draw it toward her gaping maw. "Call her off!"<br/>
<br/>
"Come back here, Lindsay!" you yell, and she falls back onto the bed with a sullen stare. "Okay, I'd call that a success."<br/>
<br/>
"Only because—" Caleb starts to say, but he breaks off at the sound of a door opening, followed by footfalls in the outer rooms. You look at each other. "Dane's mom?" he mouths at you.<br/>
<br/>
You scramble up and out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind you.<br/>
<br/>
Then you open it and put your face back in. "Keep quiet," you snarl at Lindsay. "Not a word, not a peep, not a sound!" She glowers back, but presses her lips shut.<br/>
<br/>
It is Mrs. Matthias, returning from her meeting with the sophomore boys, and she's looking very cheerful, even after she's done a double-take at you. She's dressed in a shabby flannel track suit and ratty sneakers. The figure they show off is actually quite flattering for a woman of her age; but the lines on her face seem to have deepened.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Hi there," she says. "I wasn't expecting—" She breaks off, and peers closely at you. She says "You're—" but then trails off.<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott," you finish for her. Is her brain still addled by the drugs? Does she not remember you? "I was here last night, with—"<br/>
<br/>
"Right," she says. "I'm just trying to remember if—" A shadow crosses her face, and she bites her lip. Worry comes into her eyes. "I'm getting my Dane back, right?"<br/>
<br/>
A chill prickles up your spine. Is she going to be difficult? "Um, Dane seems kind of happy where he is, uh, ma'am—"<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head. "But he's coming back. Didn't your friend tell me that—? Is it you? Are you the one who's going to ...?" The lines on her face tighten.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Yes. That's me. I'm, uh, just getting ready to." You blush.<br/>
<br/>
She nods in a distracted way. "Well, you don't have to do that now, if you don't want. In fact—" Again she breaks off, and you think you see a slight tremble go through her. "Can you wait a couple of days? Until after I'm moved out?" She rubs her arm and bites her lip. "I think it would be easier if—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Sure." You feel slightly sick to realize what she's thinking: <i>She doesn't want to look at "Dane" and know that it's not really her son, that it's an imposter, and that she's okay with him being an imposter.</i> "I should have thought of that. I'll wait."<br/>
<br/>
She nods again. The air thickens between you in the silence.<br/>
<br/>
Then she bursts to life again. "And I've got a new life all picked out!" she exclaims. From her pocket she pulls out a cell phone. "Your friends were <i>wonderful</i> at helping me out." She swipes her fingertip across the phone. "Leslie Osbourne," she says as she turns the screen toward you. "She's perfect!" An ugly-sounding giggle bubbles out of her.<br/>
<br/>
It's a very pretty girl, you'd have to agree, whose photo Mrs. Matthias is showing you. She has regular features and a confident smile; dark-blonde hair falls to her shoulders; pearl earrings glimmer at her lobes; the top buttons of her blouse are open, showing a swan-like neck and smooth throat. Her complexion is unblemished, and if she's wearing makeup it's so light as to be invisible.<br/>
<br/>
She prattles on about the girl she's going to become. She's an AP student; she's musical; she comes from a "good" family. (Mrs. Matthias says that several times, and the word "good" seems to drip satirically off her tongue, which makes you wonder.) She's very popular and has lots of friends; she's extremely respectable. (That's another word that makes Mrs. Matthias giggle.) She shows you pictures of Leslie's friends: girls who are smartly but casually dressed, like Leslie herself. "Boys are crazy about her," she prattle. "I'll have my pick when I'm—" She giggles again and shows you a photo of a boy.<br/>
<br/>
You don't pay much attention, until she casually mentions Leslie's brother. "Is his name Spencer?" you ask, and she nods in a distracted way. <i>Interesting,</i> you think. Spencer is one of the seniors, a shabby, quasi-dropout smart-aleck, not at all like the girl Mrs. Matthias is gushing over. And he's friends with Dane.<br/>
<br/>
You have Lindsay under control, but you still need another identity. Maybe you can find one through Mrs. Matthias.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322423
author_id: seuzz
title: Spencer for Hire
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It won't occur to you until much later that you have deeper motive for asking Mrs. Matthias to help you hijack the brother of the girl she's going to be impersonating. Right now you are just looking for a plausible identity that can get you back into circulation pretty quickly.<br/>
<br/>
"So, those guys who helped you, uh, pick Leslie," you say. But Mrs. Matthias is in some kind of reverie and continues to stare down at her cell phone. "Hey," you say. She looks up at you with a start; and there's a look in her eye like she's not sure she's ever seen you before.<br/>
<br/>
"Those guys who helped you pick Leslie," you repeat. "You know that they're, uh, gonna be getting themselves some new lives too. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm?" Then she shakes herself, and smiles at you until her dimples show. "Yeah, we talked about that. Some of the guys they've picked out for themselves are really cute." Her dimples deepen. "But some of those guys are pretty cute themselves."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay. Well, I, uh—" <br/>
<br/>
You break off. Mrs. Matthias is now staring at <i>you</i> with a slightly hungry look. Is she thinking that <i>you're</i> pretty cute yourself?<br/>
<br/>
"So, I've got this friend," you begin again. "He, uh, wasn't with Joe and them tonight, but he's also supposed to be, uh, getting himself a new situation."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you said that Lindsay has a brother. Spencer? I know him, he's actually a friend of Dane's."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyebrows go up. "Really."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. So I was thinking, if my friend could be Spencer, then he could hang out with me, 'cos I'd be, uh, being Dane, you know." You feel yourself starting to tremble. It's very weird talking to a guy's mother about turning yourself into her son. "Also, you know, if he was Spencer, then he could help you get Leslie. 'Cos he's her brother."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes widen. "That would be perfect!"<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't have a problem with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Why would I?" She grabs your arm. "What's your friend's name?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, uh, K- Keith." You almost said <i>Caleb,</i> but that might cause confusion later on.<br/>
<br/>
"How soon could he get to Leslie's brother?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty soon," you rashly assure her.<br/>
<br/>
Her fingernails bite into your arm. "That would be terrific, Will. Will? Is it Will?" She beams at you. "It would be so awesome if we did things that way!"<br/>
<br/>
So enthusiastic is she that you almost back out. <i>What is she up to?</i> But you just swallow hard and tell her that you and your friend will be delighted to help.<br/>
<br/>
Then an awkward silence enfolds you. When you can't stand it anymore, you say, "I'll go get my friends now and we'll get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
Her expression turns puzzled, and you feel her eyes on you as you stalk into the back of the trailer. Her puzzlement turns to surprise with a tinge of shock when you reappear with Caleb and golem-Lindsay, and wish her a good night.<br/>
<br/>
Her shock might be worse if she knew that you had Dane's clothes and mask bundled up with you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You tell Caleb about your plans on the drive to Lindsay's house, and he nearly explodes. <br/>
<br/>
"<i>Spencer Osbourne?</i> Are you nucking futz? The fuck you wanna be <i>Spencer Osbourne</i> for?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a convenient hide-out," you sputter. "Keeps me close to Dane and to, uh ... you?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Me?</i> Since fucking when do I hang out with Spencer Fucking Osbourne?"<br/>
<br/>
"You could start!"<br/>
<br/>
"I could also try to stop a freight train with my face! There's a lot of fucking things I could do, Will, that I wouldn't ever do!"<br/>
<br/>
You fold your arms. "There something wrong with Spencer?" He's kind of skeezy, you'd admit—the kind of guy who hangs out smoking by the portables—but he's not a thug or a lowlife.<br/>
<br/>
"Pah! What isn't wrong with—? Number one—" Caleb takes one hand off the wheel so he can tick off his fingers. "He's going nowhere fast with his life. Jesus, if you're gonna steal someone's life, why don't you make it a life worth stealing? In for a penny, in for a pound, or whatever it is."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not forever," you stammer. Then you're seized by a thought. "And if it's not forever, it makes more sense for it to be someone like that. No one would pay any attention if he came back after a couple of months or whatever, and was all, like, I don't remember the last few months. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm still not hanging out with him, even if he is really you. The guy's a total dick. That's number two."<br/>
<br/>
"Number two what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Number two on the list of what's wrong with him. He's a <i>dick</i>, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know him that well," you confess.<br/>
<br/>
"Well I do! I sat next to him in three classes my sophomore year, and he spent the whole year inventing nicknames for me."<br/>
<br/>
"You never— Wait!" You snap your fingers. "Was he the one who got people to start calling you 'Jojo'?"<br/>
<br/>
 Caleb hits you hard in the thigh.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!" You rub the spot. "Okay, that was kind of an asshole thing for him to—<br/>
<br/>
"He's a <i>dick,</i> Will, not an <i>asshole.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Is there a difference?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure there is! An asshole just smells. But a dick <i>penetrates!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You talk a little more about Spencer and the nuances of being a dick, a prick, an asshole, and a motherfucker before you pull up to Lindsay's house. You wait there while the golem fetches the grimoire, which Lindsay hadn't destroyed yet. You warn her (it?) to keep her mouth shut about the night's activities; she seethes, but acquiesces. Then you return to the Donna long enough to pack all your things and check out (so you won't chance running into Kim again) and move a block down to the Layzee-Nites. Caleb keeps you company for a little while before leaving for the night. You turn in early, for the stresses of the day have exhausted you.<br/>
<br/>
The next morning you note with satisfaction that Dwayne's car is missing; a glance at the city newspaper's online edition discloses a notice that a car answering its make had been torched in the Layzee-Nite's parking lot; police were investigating. <i>Good luck with that,</i> you smirk, and declare that chapter of your life (not to mention Dwayne Macaulay's) closed.<br/>
<br/>
You're in no hurry to return to school—your impression that Spencer is a slacker who skips most of his classes is probably one reason you picked him—and Dane's return isn't expected to be imminent. So after taking breakfast at the Sunshine Diner (again; hey, it's convenient) you mosey back to your room to look over the grimoire. You're probably not even a twentieth of the way into it, so there are lots more spells to uncover, though in truth you're not sure how many more tricks can be turned with a mask. Maybe the book will culminate in actual body-swapping and not just disguises? But even if you weren't interested in studying the book more deeply, you have nothing else to do.<br/>
<br/>
Alas, you are in for a nasty surprise. The book is damaged—someone tore away part of one of the pages.<br/>
<br/>
It's the page after the spell that details how to make the golem paint that is torn. The top of the page is intact, and it details a list of ingredients, plus one line of what looks like an instruction. But the bottom half of the page, which would have the rest of the instructions and a sigil, is missing. <br/>
<br/>
Bad enough that you can't perform the spell and find out what it does. Worse is that if you can't perform the spell you can't turn the page and get at any of the spells that come afterward. And even though the bottom half of the next spell is visible where the page before it has been torn away, it is a blurry, unreadable mess.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe Lindsay did it, maybe it was her way of stopping anyone from getting any further in the book even without destroying it. You text Caleb on Dane's phone to ask what the deal is; he texts back an hour later saying that he knows about the damage but doesn't know how it came about.<br/>
<br/>
So that leaves the day blown to hell. You entertain yourself with some TV and the internet, then an hour before classes are to let out you text Spencer—whose contact info is in Dane's phone—and (pretending to be Dane) ask him to come out to the Layzee Nites Motel when school is over. <i>Just you,</i> you emphasize. He replies: <i>paranoid much?</i> You: <i>Just careful and just want you.</i> He replies with an LOL emoji and the all-capped <i>SEXY!</i> which alarms you a little.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's early, too; apparently he was skipping last period, and you barely have time to prep things when there's a machine-gun-like rattle at the door. "Hey Dane," a muffled voice calls through the door, "I'm here and I'm turgid for your sexy ass!" More knocking. You almost rip the door off the hinges when you open it.<br/>
<br/>
Spencer Osbourne blinks at you, and his grin fades a little. Then it lights up again. "Ay, Prescott!" he exclaims. "Wasn't expecting you here." He peers around your head. "The Danester in? I got a text—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he just stepped out." You haul Spencer into the room. "You're early and he's not back yet."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm never too early for a three-way." His eyes crinkle up as a Joker-like leer stretches across his face. With his arched eyebrows he looks more than a little like a seventeen-year-old Satan. "Didn't know <i>you</i> were into—" He waggles his eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
Your blood freezes.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not! And this isn't a, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"It isn't?" Spencer leans in so close you can feel his breath on your face. "All we're missing is a sheep," he gurgles, "and then it'd be a <i>real</i>—"<br/>
<br/>
That's enough from him. You slam a mind-band onto his forehead, and catch him as he goes cross-eyed and falls.<br/>
<br/>
After hauling him onto the bed you think: I didn't have to be Lindsay. Maybe I don't have to be <i>him.</i></span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224232
author_id: seuzz
title: The Frenemy of My Friend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your head is spinning as you turn Spencer over and start pulling his jacket off. Was he serious about that "three way" business? Was he actually expecting Dane to propose some kind of sex play? That reference to a sheep: He said it with a smile so it was probably a joke, and that would make the rest of it a joke too, wouldn't it? Or was Spencer actually—<br/>
<br/>
<i>I can change my mind later,</i> you mutter to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div> <br/>
After the mind-band and the mask have gone in and come out of him, you cover Spencer's face with Dane's mask. (The mask is a copy of Dane's body, but it uses a metal band that copies your own mind. You have painted it with a layer that, as with the fake Lindsay, makes a golem that will obey you.) You left Spencer in his underwear—tidy whities—so that he wouldn't be too naked, but that somehow makes it even more alarming when Dane materializes in his place. Dane Matthias is one of the hairiest individuals you have ever seen; it's almost like a orangutan in briefs.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" he says as he sits up with wide eyes. He blinks and looks around. His expression falls. "Oh. Right."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," you agree, for he should have all your memories up to thirty minutes ago. "Dane's things are—"<br/>
<br/>
"So we got Spencer?" he asks as he looks around. "That worked out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Why are you interrupting me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um. 'Cos I'm nervous?" He does a double-take at his own hairy semi-nakedness.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you nervous about?"<br/>
<br/>
He swallows. "I dunno. Aren't you nervous?"<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you probably are. But you brush the question aside. "You need to get into Dane's things," you tell him. "I'll be in the bathroom finishing up." You scoop up the pile of clothes—mask balanced on top—that will transform you into Spencer Osbourne.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you need these?" The golem hooks a finger into the front of his briefs and tugs them down. "I don't think they belong to either of us."<br/>
<br/>
You take the underwear with a shudder.<br/>
<br/>
It's chilly in the bathroom, and you spread some towels in the bottom of the tub before clambering into it. You pick up Spencer's mind band and finger it while studying his name: SPENCER MICHAEL OSBOURNE. Since opening the door to Spencer, you've grown a lot more nervous about this transformation; and now you're going to be opening an even more intimate door to him. Two intimate doors: a door into him that you will be going through, and a door into yourself that you'll be pulling him in through.<br/>
<br/>
You gulp down your doubts, and put the band to your forehead.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You sit up with a wince and a groan, then freeze at the sight of your feet, which in fact are not yours. <i>Shit,</i> you think. <i>What's coming next?</i><br/>
<br/>
You wait and listen to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, Jesus,</i> you think when it comes, and pinch the bridge of your nose. <i>Is that all?</i> You settle back in the tub with a sniff, and pull your nose and grin.<br/>
<br/>
It's not much of a grin. It's only a grin of relief.<br/>
<br/>
You were expecting some kind of explosion inside your head, as when you put Dwayne's mask on, and were prepared to be overwhelmed, by the memories and personality of Spencer Osbourne.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you've got his memories. At least, when you probe for something that only he would know, you find it, like his address and his parents' names and what it looked like from the back row of Mr. Ingram's classroom in the third grade. <br/>
<br/>
As for his personality: Well, you suppose you've got it too, draped limply around your own like a set of pajamas. But where "Dwayne" was freaked out, "Spencer" seems to be only mildly amused to find himself sharing Will Prescott's body with Will Prescott himself. You peer down at your dick and without any shame whatsoever you pull it up by its tip. <i>Not bad,</i> you think. <i>But not something I'm super-stoked to be playing with.</i><br/>
<br/>
Oh, and all that flirty talk back in the room? Just Spencer being a dick, not asking for one. Although Spencer has—<br/>
<br/>
You grunt and grind the heels of your hands into your eyeballs. <i>Hand jobs, that's all they were. And mouth-to-mouth kisses.</i> Because when you're going through a dry spell—a dry spell that technically began seventeen years ago and has yet to end—sometimes you will be desperate enough to accept a friendly spritz.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you must have Spencer's personality embedded in your own, because the memory of getting naked into bed with Terry Colson and rubbing each other until the itch went away does <i>not</i> freak you out as much as it might have.<br/>
<br/>
The sound of someone in the outer room reminds you that you've got a transformation to complete. You lean over the edge of the tub and snatch up the mask.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The clothes, of course, complete the disguise. Spencer is overdressed above the waist—t-shirt; and old button-up shirt with the buttons ripped off, and a puffy vinyl jacket that's almost as big as a small tent—and undressed below the waist: black jogging shorts and ratty sneakers and no socks. He is white all over, as though he went all summer without exposing himself to direct sunlight, and mostly hairless, too, at least below the neck. (Above the neck, he has a three-day growth of beard.) His hair is shock of pale blonde that sticks out stiffly in a couple of directions.<br/>
<br/>
Once dressed, you lean against the sink and let a leer light up your pale blue eyes as you stare into the mirror. "Dammit, man, when are you going to get laid?" you chide yourself. "That hairy anus out there—"<br/>
<br/>
A muted rap from the outer room interrupts you, and with a frown you exit the bathroom. Dane is standing at front door, but he casts an alarmed look at you before grasping the handle. You nod, and he opens it. "Hey," he stammers. "Uh. Caleb." He steps back and give you an uncertain look.<br/>
<br/>
It is Caleb on the other side of the door, and he peers warily into the room; he freezes when he sees you.<br/>
<br/>
You can't resist. A hard grin spreads across your face. "Ay, Jojo!" you jeer. "Come on in, man, let's make it a three-way!"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes bulge, and he swallows. Then he flushes.<br/>
<br/>
"If you're lookin' for Prescott," you continue—temptation has gulped you down whole—"he just stepped out for a minute." You glance around the room. "Yeah, he said something about showing me a dingus or other but—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't bullshit me, man," Caleb says. He charges in and slams the door behind him. <br/>
<br/>
"The fuck's your problem, Jojo? I just came out here for a little—"<br/>
<br/>
"He already spilled it." Caleb jabs a finger at Dane. "I texted him on my way out, he said you were in the bathroom changing."<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, fuck you, Dane," you reprimand the golem. "Snitches get stitches, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I didn't know! You didn't tell me—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just fuckin' with you." You jerk your chin at Caleb. "So you came out here in a hurry, it sounds like. 'S'amatter, Jojo? Your tender anal tissues throbbing with a hunger for my—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut it down, Will," Caleb says between gritted teeth.<br/>
<br/>
"What, this?" You gesture at yourself and laugh. "Fuck, man, you're too much fun to wind up." You drop onto the bed and grin. "No wonder Spencer couldn't leave you alone."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb sighs so deeply that it cracks even your humor.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," you sigh in turn, and settle back on the bed. "So what's up? You didn't rush over here to try to stop me, did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm just catching you up on things. Bhodi's gonna try to set something up so they can do the first substitution. Andrew Webb, you remember him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Soccer player? The guy Bhodi got in a fight with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Did he?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he did the day that I was being him. That's the guy that Andy's aiming for, eye-eye-are-see."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, they're gonna try pulling it off this afternoon." He grits his teeth. "I thought you might want to be there for it."<br/>
<br/>
"I could do that, I guess. I gotta get that girl for Dane's mom, though." You scratch the back of your head and glance at the golem. "You'd like to sleep at home, wouldn't you?" you ask it. "Can't do that 'til you're mom's gone, though." The golem starts to reply, but you ignore it to turn back to Caleb. "We could do that job this afternoon too if we can get two more masks."<br/>
<br/>
"Then maybe you should come out with me. Oh, and try not to shit yourself when you see else is gonna be there."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not Lindsay, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but it's almost as good. Paulina might be there."<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you're sure you've misheard him. "Wait, what? They're gonna pull off a thing in front of <i>Paulina</i>."<br/>
<br/>
"She knows all about it, Will. Can you beat that?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Bhodi told her what's going on, because he's a dumb fuck who can't keep any secrets from her."<br/>
<br/>
You come real close to losing your shit. "He told her about his friends— And us— And the masks— And what we're <i>doing?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb nods. "And apparently she's cool with it. Can you beat that? I haven't told her what we did to Lindsay, though. Something tells me she wouldn't be cool with <i>that.</i>"</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132242321
author_id: seuzz
title: Tales of a Body Swap
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're all for going out to meet Bhodi and his friends right away, but Caleb insists on waiting until you hear from them. Then, when you suggest heading back over to the Sunshine Diner—"We can hang out with Sean and Terry, man, get free pancakes and coffee"—Caleb says he doesn't want to be seen in public with you.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, Jojo," you goad him. "You're acting like you don't like me."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb grabs up a fully loaded backpack, and you dive off the bed as he hurls it at you.<br/>
<br/>
You poke your head up with a laugh. "A'right, a'right, you made your point, I'll cut it out." You clamber back onto the bed as Caleb glowers. "But Spencer's not so bad, not from where I'm sitting. If you'd just loosen up, man— And goin' over to the diner, shittin' around with Sean and Terry, would be just the thing to loosen you up."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't need to loosen up, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"You got the tightest asshole, Jojo— Uh, <i>Caleb,</i>" you correct yourself as his nostrils flare. "Come on, at least sit down!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks around, then sits stiffly in a chair. You roll your eyes. "Dane, man," you call out to the golem. "Take a load off too." You pat the bed. "You like me, don't you?" you ask as he crawls onto the bed next to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure. I'm supposed to, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I mean, shit, man, Spencer and the Danester are, like, five of the three musketeers all by themselves."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Caleb drawls, "how about you ask Dane over there what <i>he</i> thinks of Spencer. You got a copy of your own brain in there, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
For the first time since putting Spencer's mask on, you feel your good humor challenged. "I don't need to know what I think of Spencer, I already know. Besides, Fake-Dane here'd watch his words anyway. Wouldn't you?" The golem winces. "But seriously, man," you tell Caleb, "how we gonna hang out together if you're gonna hold this grudge?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a grudge, Will," Caleb sighs. "I just don't like him."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we could turn you into someone who does?"<br/>
<br/>
"It would still be a problem."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm still gonna come bother you, I'll just try not to be a dick when I do. Oh hey, what does Tilley think of Spencer?"<br/>
<br/>
"The topic of Spencer Osbourne doesn't ever come up. Do <i>you</i> ever remember talking about him, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess you're right.<br/>
<br/>
Then you slap your hands over your face. "Oh man! Head rush. Brain rush!" You put your face between your knees. "Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
You grin up at him, even as you blink through eyes that are suddenly watering. "You know who I'm gonna get to fucking hang out with? Who I've <i>been</i> hanging out with?" Caleb frowns at the question. "Only Will Prescott!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb blinks. "Uh, sure, Will. Since you're—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you fucking clown show!" You look for something to hurl at Caleb, but there's nothing at hand. "Gordon! The guy who's pretending to be me! He's gotten tight with Colson and a couple of the other guys, like, same group as Spencer. Fuck!" You bounce on the bed. "I just remembered I— He— Spencer— He was there when Gordon started talking about what Chelsea's cunny tastes like!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb flinches. <br/>
<br/>
"And Gordon, too! Spencer's been hangin' out with the guy who looks like Gordon, but, you know, who's really—" You grab Fake-Dane by the head. "The original Danester's been hangin' out most days now at the portables with Spencer and some other guys most periods! Shit, man, this is gonna be awesome! Well, <i>weird,</i> but also fuckin'—"<br/>
<br/>
"Have they figured out there's anything wrong with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"With who, Gordon?" <br/>
<br/>
"The guy who's looking like Gordon. Or the guy who's looking like you, for that matter. Aside from the way you say he's been—" Caleb makes a face. "Talking about Chelsea's cunny."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean has anyone noticed that Gordon Black has turned into a spaced-out, pot-smoking chimpanzee? No, they all think that's <i>totally</i> normal! Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, has <i>Dane</i> said anything about, like, body swapping? Not him!" Caleb snorts when you glance at Fake-Dane. "The real Dane."<br/>
<br/>
"No, he's not said anything. Well, not that Spencer's heard." You try to recollect. "He's just taking it in and enjoying it, I guess. He's getting a belly, though. He was all flat and hard"—You drum your stomach, which is flabby without being paunchy"—"when he first showed up, but he's got the munchies bad, I guess, since Gordon needs to eat, like, five buffalos, wings and all, every day, and I figure Dane's eatin' more'n that <i>and</i> he's not working out. Jesus, he's gonna turn into a land whale by Christmas, the way he's ballooning out. But he's getting laid for now, so he's got that at least."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shakes his head in wonderment. For the next thirty minutes, until a text comes from Joe Dickerson, you regale him with stories about the transformed Dane Matthias and Gordon Black.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You drive out separately to the meeting place, for Caleb still doesn't want to be seen with you, and he's got to pick up some of the guys anyway. So you reach the municipal athletic fields before he does.<br/>
<br/>
You pace as you wait, disliking the scene. The Morris Clevenger Community Athletic Fields are a major complex of soccer, baseball, and football fields next to a large park and serviced by two major traffic arteries. They are deserted at the moment, but that leaves you feeling even more conspicuous. Why in the hell do Bhodi and them think that they can knock out Andrew Webb and make a substitution in an open place where anyone driving by can see? Caleb had only shrugged when you put the same question to him.<br/>
<br/>
Five minutes after you arrive, though, you discover it's too late to make a change in plans. A dirt bike comes shooting into the parking, and Andrew Webb jumps off it.<br/>
<br/>
You have mostly forgotten the day that you played Bhodi Weaver at school, but the sight of Andrew brings part of it back. He's the asshole soccer player you got in a fight with.<br/>
<br/>
He's a normal-size guy, though being a sophomore he's a little shorter than you. He's dressed out in a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts, showing smooth skin and budding muscles. He is very pink, as though he's suffered a light sunburn all over, but his skin is still pale under the pink. His hair, which is buzzed very close to his scalp, is a whitish blonde. He has little piggy eyes, an upturned nose, and rosy lips that curve easily into a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
He smirks at you now when he catches you looking at him, and he goes rigid all over so that his muscles bulge out. You roll your eyes and look away and resume pacing.<br/>
<br/>
But after a few minutes you decide it's stupid to ignore him. "Hey," you yell over at him. "What's your name?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is it to you?" he hollers back.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a dickhead, man! I'm supposed to meet some guys here and I'm thinking maybe you're one of them!"<br/>
<br/>
"Andrew!"<br/>
<br/>
"You got a last name, Andrew?"<br/>
<br/>
"Webb!" His expression turns wary as you trudge over to him.<br/>
<br/>
"So hey, I'm Spencer," you tell him. "You know another guy named Andy? Or a Joe Dickerson?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm s'posed to meet 'em here." He peers at you. "The fuck you got to do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." You dig out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. "Guy I know, Jojo Johansson, said to meet him here, meet up with a guy named Andy and a guy named Joe and a guy named ... something."<br/>
<br/>
"Bhodi?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. Somethin' funny."<br/>
<br/>
Andrew stares, then cackles. "We all call him Apu," he chortles, "'cept when the teacher's listening, 'cos then they get pissed at you."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I give a shit and like there's any teachers around." You offer him a cigarette; he shakes his head; you light one and squint over the smoke. "The fuck is it all about, man?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're havin' a fight. Me and Bhodi." He crosses his arms so that his muscles bulge. "Fucking wanker."<br/>
<br/>
"A fight, huh?" You grin. "Like, punch each other till first blood?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. It's fucking bullshit. He's got a height advantage, but—" He mimes punching you in the stomach. "<i>Nngh, nngh!</i> Fucking wanker."<br/>
<br/>
"What's it about? A girl." You let your smile turn into a leer.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah. Well, maybe. Mostly it's to do with him being a fucking wanker—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you keep saying that."<br/>
<br/>
Andrew catches himself, and his stare turns icy. "Yeah, well, we're on the soccer team together, you know? And he's always bitching 'cos he thinks he's better than he is."<br/>
<br/>
"Meaning he's not as good as you, huh?" You take a drag and hold it in.<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft." He puffs out his chest. "I'm gonna be squad captain my senior year." He smirks down his nose at you.<br/>
<br/>
You blow a stream of smoke into his face. "That's awesome. You got my vote."<br/>
<br/>
He glares at you, then looks over your shoulder. "Here's someone now," he says. "Fuck. They <i>drove</i> out." You turn. Caleb has parked, and he and four other guys—Bhodi, Andy Jensen, Joe Dickerson, and Justin Orr—pile out. "Hey, Apu!" Andrew yells. "Who's your fucking driver?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't call him that," you remind him. "It pisses the teachers off."<br/>
<br/>
"So are you ready to do this?" Bhodi calls out as he and the others walk up.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you?" Andrew retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, are you?" you echo. Bhodi and the others give you a puzzled look.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Jesus,</i> you think at them. <i>Get out the fucking mask. Isn't that what we're here for?</i><br/>
<br/>
"I'm sick of your shit, man," Bhodi tells Andrew. "You got a shitty attitude, and I'm gonna see it gets fixed."<br/>
<br/>
"Come at me, bro." Andrew puts his hands on his hips and grins.<br/>
<br/>
No one moves, but eyes dart about.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Christ.</i> You grab Andrew Webb from behind in a bear hug.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322423211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Field of Play
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Oo-hwa?" Andrew Webb gasps as you clasp him from behind in a bear hug. You rear back, lifting him off his feet. Over his shoulder you see Bhodi and the other guys watching you with slack-jawed stares.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you guys waiting for?" you holler at them. "Didn't you bring a fucking mask to this party?"<br/>
<br/>
They stare at you some more. Then, as Andrew comes to life in your arms, they wheel about, colliding into each other. Caleb starts yelling at them.<br/>
<br/>
He's not the only one yelling. Andrew looses a stream of curses and wrenches himself back and forth in your arms. "Little help here?" you cry out. Andrew's foot cracks you in the shin, and you suck in a sharp breath.<br/>
<br/>
Your arms are weakening, and you feel Andrew breaking free when he suddenly slumps, pulling you down. Voices yelp as a mass of bodies tumbles to the grass. You roll off and away and spring into a crouch, ready to grapple anyone who tries to grab you or to run away.<br/>
<br/>
Three boys are tangled up on the ground. One of them rolls over onto his back: Andrew Webb, his eyes staring and unseeing. Justin and Joe crawl out from under him and help each other up. Bhodi and Andy have gone back to staring at you.<br/>
<br/>
"The ... <i>fuck</i>  ... were you guys <i>waiting for?</i>" you scream at them. "Wasn't this what you came out here for? To get a mask on him?"<br/>
<br/>
"We got it done, Will," Caleb snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"After wasting a fucking hour with a lot of fucking trash talk. What?" you yell at Bhodi. "You wanted to <i>play the fucking dozens</i> with him first?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, man," Justin snarls. "We didn't know what the fuck was going on. Who <i>are</i> you?"<br/>
<br/>
You wheel on Caleb. "You didn't tell them <i>I</i> was going to be here?"<br/>
<br/>
He flushes. "I told them you were going to be here, Will! But they don't know Spencer, they didn't know it was you!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"You didn't tell them?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Look, can we all just calm down?" Joe says. "It all worked out."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck!" You look down at Andrew and around at your exposed position. You snap your fingers. "Get around him, make a circle around him so no one can see what we're doing. Jesus," you add as the others start dropping to the grass. "Why'd you pick this spot?"<br/>
<br/>
"Andrew picked it," Bhodi mutters. "It was the only place we could meet him."<br/>
<br/>
You snort. The whole thing is a cock up, and it's a wonder it wasn't more of a cock up. "Look, let's just be smarter about this going forward," you say. "Who's next on the list?" They all look at each other. "Who's the target?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ethan Clayborne," Andy says. He glances at Justin. "I guess we could go after him next. Andrew, uh, could help us out there." He looks down at Webb, and swallows.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyone else?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, Kaylee Mercier. For Grant," says Joe. "And Gabriela somebody for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's some A-plus research," you snort. "Don't even know her last name. But from now on you don't do it unless you're inside someplace, and you've got them alone, and you're pretty sure you're not going to be interrupted. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's the ideal," Joe says. "We know that. It's just we couldn't do it in this case."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you try getting any of the others by themselves?"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop trying to run things, Will," Caleb says. "Or at least stop yelling."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfah!" You pace, taking some very deep breaths. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry I flipped out," you say when you're feeling calmer. "Only it's gonna be pretty goddamned difficult to explain what's going on if someone happens to see us."<br/>
<br/>
"We know that, Will," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright. Let's just say—" You take another deep breath before resuming, so that you don't rant. "Let's just say that from this point on, we don't do <i>anything</i> unless we are absolutely sure that we can do it without any risk of fuck ups."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to be helping us?" Bhodi asks. His stony expression tells you he hopes the answer will be "No."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I have to be there," you concede, "if you don't want me, or if it doesn't make sense I'd be there. Same goes for Caleb, by the way." He scowls at you. "But there's at least one I can help you with, probably can do it by myself. The one for Dane's mom. Mrs. Matthias," you explain when they look puzzled.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a girl in our class we picked out for her," Joe says. His brow furrows. "You can help with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"You picked out Leslie Osbourne for her, right? Well—" You drum your chest. "I'm Leslie's big brother now." You can't help grinning at their surprise.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They haven't got a mask with them, and it's a half-hour before you can leave to fetch one. First, though, they have to pop Andy's treated mask onto Andrew; then the two twins retreat to Caleb's car to finish exchanging identities. At the end of it all, Andy Jensen and Andrew Webb are back on their feet. Only now Andy is hanging back uncertainly at the fringes of the group while Andrew—back in his clothes and back in his smirk—playfully shoves Bhodi around and Bhodi bashfully shoves him back.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," you mutter at Caleb as you watch from the sidelines. "At least it worked out."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't have any call to lose your shit like that," he retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"We just should'a planned it out better. Maybe I just shouldn't have come along."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, maybe you shouldn't have."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, Jojo. Oh, by the way, I thought you said Paulina was supposed to be here too."<br/>
<br/>
"She changed her mind, stayed behind with Grant. You're not going to lose your shit about that too, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>No.</i> Although—"<br/>
<br/>
"Although what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing." <i>Paulina and Lindsay and Evie.</i> How complicated is that going to be if Paulina knows about the impersonations while Evie doesn't, and if none of them know that Lindsay is now a golem? "I need to get home," you say. "I got a kid sister that needs replacing with a duplicate." <br/>
<br/>
Caleb visibly shivers. "You know how creepy that sounds when you say it out loud?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It does sound creepy, and it's something you've been avoiding thinking about. At least Spencer and Leslie are not very close. In fact, they cordially loathe each other.<br/>
<br/>
You had a number of surprises sprung on you after you were inside Spencer's head (besides the one about getting naked hand jobs from some of his male classmates). One was that the slacker Spencer actually comes from an upper-class family—his father is an architect and his mother an attorney—and that until his sophomore year he was actually a successful student. It would take more introspection than Spencer has put into himself—and more than you'd be willing to put into him—to figure out why he subsequently steered his academic career toward the ground, but Spencer tells himself that he's bored with school, that it's all a lot of busywork, that he's smart enough to get along without it, and that he'll resume serious academic work in college when he can take stuff that's interesting. In the meantime, he goofs off with bullshit classes like Physiology and Zoology and an art class; keeps his parents happy with an "Asian Alphabets" class and a Constitutional Law class; and satisfies his own talents and interests with Computer Programming II, the only class that he reliably attends. <br/>
<br/>
Leslie, on the other hand ... Well, let's just say that in the last few years she's turned herself into a clone of her mother: ambitious, striving, and aggressively uninterested in anything that can't lift her to the top of her classes or among her social peers. Spencer can only wince when he looks at or listens to her, and as for Leslie's attitude toward her brother—<br/>
<br/>
"Where's mom and dad?" you ask as you saunter in to the living room, where Leslie is sprawled on the sofa with school books around her and her cell phone in her hand.<br/>
<br/>
She rolls her eyes at you. "Dinner with a client? They <i>talked</i> about it at breakfast this morning?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was too busy reading the cereal box." You shove your hands in your jacket pockets and rock back and forth on your heels. "Who're you texting with?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one <i>you</i> know."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd be surprised who I know. I think I got lots of your friends in my classes."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right, 'cos you're still taking sophomore classes."<br/>
<br/>
You grin at her forehead as she resumes tapping her phone. <br/>
<br/>
"No, seriously, betcha I can get it in three guesses," you say. "It's Laura, in't it?" Laura Serrano is Leslie's best friend, one who's <i>always</i> over at the house. But Leslie ignores you. "Is it that girl who plays in the orchestra? What's her name. Tiffany?" It's a dark-haired girl you're trying to think of, plays the violin, which makes her the kind of high-class person Leslie wants to cultivate. Still she says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
You search Spencer's memories for the perfect thrust—and find a better-than-perfect thrust. "Is it that wrestler you and all your girlfriends have a crush on?"<br/>
<br/>
Leslie kicks at you, catching you in the crotch. You gasp and hop back. "Oh, fuck me! It is, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"It is! What's his name? The kid with the hair and the muscles."<br/>
<br/>
Leslie grabs up a book, but you dive out of the room, laughing, before she can hurl it at you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ethan Clayborne.</i> That's the wrestler's name. Pretty soon it won't be him, though, it'll be one of your sophomore friends wearing his face and body. Perfect bait for Leslie.<br/>
<br/>
Or, with the 'rents out for the evening, you have a chance to do it yourself, now, like you bragged to the guys.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213224232112
author_id: seuzz
title: An Age Regression
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There's no time like the present, and with Mr. and Mrs. Osbourne out for the evening, the current set-up totally meets the criteria you set out for making an exchange.<br/>
<br/>
Too bad you don't have any of the masks here with you. So you retreat to the bedroom and call Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Jojo." You snicker as you imagine him bridling at the nickname. "I got a situation out here all perfect for doing a thing. Can you or the guys get the stuff out to Dane's mom?"<br/>
<br/>
"What stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're supposed to be an A student, Jojo. I mean some masks and brain-things and that stuff you put inside them. You know, the same set-up that Andy and Andrew used."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean for Mrs. Matthias and Spencer's sister?"<br/>
<br/>
"Now you're up to a B-minus. That's <i>exactly</i> what I mean. Get Mrs. Matthias set up, get her, you know, get her all ready so we can switch her with Spencer's sister. Set her up, then give her my address and tell her to get out here as fast as she can."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know how long that'll be, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"As long as it's within the next—" You squint the digital clock. "Ninety minutes, we should be fine."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you sure?"<br/>
<br/>
"Move it, Jojo. The longer you fuck off, the less time we got." You hang up. "You baboon-faced freak," you mutter at your phone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
While you're waiting you've got time to raid the fridge for a pre-supper snack of fried chicken, pickles, and a slice of cheese, which you eat in your room, adding the dirty plate to the stack that's accumulating on your desk. (Spencer's room is a disaster even by your own none-too-tidy standards.) As you gnaw at your meal you scroll through Spencer's social media and contact lists on his phone, shooting random insults-by-text with some of his friends. To John Darden: <i>goober.</i> To Michael Hurst: <i>dong lover.</i> To Nicholas Horner: <i>dickface.</i> To Owen Hubble ... to Luis Castillo ... to Eric Murphy ... to Tim Ryan ... to Chris Love ... Most of them respond in kind, and you spend a solidly enjoyable twenty minutes flinging ever-more-inventive insults back and forth with a dozen friends.<br/>
<br/>
The doorbell yanks you back to the present, and you fall out of your chair with shock.<br/>
<br/>
"I got it!" you shout as you dash out your bedroom, but Leslie is already in the foyer before you've thundered to the bottom of the stairs. She opens the door and says, "Yes?"<br/>
<br/>
From the other side a familiar voice says, "You must be Leslie. My goodness, you look just like your mother!"<br/>
<br/>
Leslie's expression freezes. You pull the door open wide and slide between it and your sister. Mrs. Matthias is standing in the entryway, and her own smile falters a little at the sight of you.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" you say, and put out your hand. "Mrs. Matthias. This is Dane's mom," you tell Leslie. She flinches a little, and her gaze turns glassy. "Come on in," you tell your visitor. "We've been, uh, expecting you." You grasp her forearm and pull. To Leslie: "You can go back to texting your friends, Les."<br/>
<br/>
She smiles tightly at Mrs. Matthias, and retreats into the living room. To Dane's mom you say, "We can go talk in the dining room."<br/>
<br/>
"Are Tom and Heather here?" she asks in a low voice as she follows you.<br/>
<br/>
"No, they're out with, uh, clients. How do you know their names?"<br/>
<br/>
"But that is Leslie in there? We can, uh, do what we were—?" Her eyes start to water. "Talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, as long as we don't waste time. You got the stuff?" Mrs. Matthias pats her over-large canvas purse. "Lemme see."<br/>
<br/>
She sets it on the table and from it draws two masks, a metallic strip, a small tub, and a paint brush. "Okay, I'll get started," you tell her, and pick up the metal strip and the blank mask.<br/>
<br/>
Leslie looks over from the sofa when you saunter into the living room. "Who is that?" she asks with a sniffy frown.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, it's Dane's mom. You remember Dane."<br/>
<br/>
Leslie makes a face—<br/>
<br/>
—then she loses all expression as you slap her on the forehead with the brain-band. She slips to the side, and you catch and prop her up. A movement behind your shoulder catches your eye, and you glance over. Mrs. Matthias is peeping in from around the corner. "You can come on in," you tell her. "Not that there's anything to see," you add.<br/>
<br/>
Her mouth is hanging open as she creeps up to you, and she stares down with a haggard, hungry expression at Leslie Osbourne. It momentarily stirs you into a resentment, but you shake it off: it's just some of Spencer's residual sibling affection. <br/>
<br/>
"So, yeah," you tell her. "That's gonna be you in about thirty minutes." Mrs. Matthias shivers. "They tell you all about  her? About us? The Osbournes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm? Oh, yes." She shakes herself, but still stares with boggling eyes down at Leslie. You hope it's only excitement she feels, at becoming a young girl again, and not ... lust.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess they're also the ones that told you our parents' names. Mrs. Matthias?" You nudge her.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. Yeah." She runs the tip of her tongue over her lips.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You nod, even though something about her reaction makes you doubt her word. "Well, you might as well sit down. It'll be awhile." When she doesn't move, you add, "I'm gonna go take a long and smelly shit. I should be back before anything happens, though."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't reply, and with a prickling sense of dread you retreat upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After the brain-band has come out of Leslie you put the mask onto her, then scoop her up in your arms and carry her up to her bedroom. Mrs. Matthias follows, and you leave it to her to strip Leslie of her clothes—you've still too much of a brother's reticence (plus your own shyness) to help. <br/>
<br/>
"When the, uh, mask comes out of her,"  you explain to her from the doorway, "just put it aside and put that other mask, the one with your name in it, onto her. It'll turn her into, uh, <i>you,</i> and then you can order her around." You have already put the paint inside the mask, and burned a hank of Mrs. Matthias's hair into it. "Then you can bring me the other mask, the one of, uh, Leslie, and I'll seal it up for you." Her keen stare is unnerving you. "After that you should give your clothes to the, uh, new version of you, and we'll send it home. Mrs. Matthias?" you say, for she is still staring at you with an unwinking gaze. "Did you get that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Great. I'll be in my bedroom." You practically run from the room.<br/>
<br/>
You're too unnerved to continue your earlier game of insult-mongering, so you text Caleb to ask what's going on with him and the rest of the gang. They're off getting Ethan Clayborne, he tells you, and asks how things are going at Spencer's. It would take too long to explain how nervous you are, and it would take even longer to figure out why, so you just tell him that things are going fine so far. <i>wish this stuff didnt take solong to do,</i> you add.<br/>
<br/>
Even with that distraction, it seems forever before you hear Leslie's door opening. You intercept Mrs. Matthias in the hall, taking the mask from her. Your hands are shaking as you apply the sealant, and you're trembling all over as you knock on Leslie's door and push the finished mask through the gap that appears when it opens. <i>Why am I so freaked out?</i> you ask yourself, but can come up with no answer. It's even worse than when you were with the guys out in that soccer field.<br/>
<br/>
With nothing else to do—and feeling far too anxious to goof off and relax—you pick up all the dirty dishes in your bedroom and take them down to the kitchen. You're unloading and reloading the dishwasher—actions totally out of character for Spencer—when you hear the garage door going up. You leap a couple of inches into the air and stifle a yelp. <i>Mom and Dad are back!</i><br/>
<br/>
You run back into the living room and hop around in a panic, trying to will the fake Mrs. Matthias to get downstairs and out the front door before the Osbournes can come inside. It's a foolish wish, and on trembling legs you hurry back toward the kitchen to intercept them when you hear the door to the garage opening. You grin weakly at Mr. and Mrs. Osbourne as they come inside.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," you say. "How was dinner? You're back early, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Your dad only grunts and brushes past you toward the kitchen. Your mom gives you a dirty look. "Whose car is that out front?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's, um, Dane Matthias's mom's. Yeah, she, uh, stopped by to pick up some schoolwork for Dane."<br/>
<br/>
"That's one of your friends?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh. Right. Spencer tries to keep Dane out of sight of his parents.</i> "Yeah. He missed a lot of school recently, and I saved out some schoolwork for him. She's picking it up." You glance back into the living room. "She's using the bathroom now."<br/>
<br/>
Your mom nods and brushes past, passing through the living room and into the study on the other side. You're left to hop nervously on your toes for a few more agonizing minutes before you hear footsteps on the stairs. You dash over to meet the fake Mrs. Matthias, and drag her toward the foyer.<br/>
<br/>
But your mom and dad, almost simultaneously, step into the living room through separate entrances. Everyone freezes.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, Mom, Dad," you stammer, "this is—"<br/>
<br/>
"Why,  Heather," Mrs. Matthias says. "Aren't you looking great!"<br/>
<br/>
"Diane!" your mom replies with a brittle smile. "I haven't seen you in—" She turns a hot, bright stare onto your dad. "Years."<br/>
<br/>
You brace yourself against a wall to keep from collapsing.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132242321121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Cradle Snatcher
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The air in the living room seems to congeal. For the longest moment, no one speaks.<br/>
<br/>
Then Mrs. Matthias says, "Well, I should be going."<br/>
<br/>
"It was great seeing you, Diane," your mom says. She grips your dad's elbow.<br/>
<br/>
"Um—" You hate to speak, for fear that everyone will look at you. But what's worse is that no one does, even as you squeak out, "You get all the homework, Mrs. Matthias?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"The homework for Dane? That you came by to pick up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, sure." She tries to brush past you, and steps on your foot. "Thanks for everything." She fumbles at the doorknob, and no one says anything even after she has scrambled out of the house.<br/>
<br/>
You glance between your mom and dad. He is staring at the floor; your mom—still gripping his elbow—is glowering at the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," you say, and rub your hands together. No one pays you any attention. "I'll be upstairs." No one stops you as you back your way up the first five steps, then turn and flee up the rest of them.<br/>
<br/>
Leslie's door is shut, and you hesitate to knock, though you're dying to bust in and start demanding <i>what the fuck?</i> and <i>why the hell?</i> You put your ear to it, but there's no sounds from within. You creep into your own room and shut the door.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The fuck is going on?</i> you wonder as you rake your fingers through hair that is sopping with sweat. Your nerves are now completely shattered. <i>Was that why I was so upset all afternoon?</i> you wonder. <i>Some freaking ... premonition ... that something was up?</i><br/>
<br/>
Your phone chimes with a text from Eric Murphy: <i>yu horseface chikenchoaking goatfucker.</i> But you're too upset and distracted to resume the insult game. Instead, you text Caleb:<br/>
<br/>
<i>Did bhodi or thm say anthing abt y mrs mattas wanted leslie osbourne? Like did she now osbournes?</i> You fiddle with the idea of sending a similar text to Bhodi directly, but hold off until you hear back from Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
You're still waiting for a reply when your name is shouted from downstairs. Your mom calls Leslie too, and you slow up to wait in the upstairs hallway until her door opens and she comes out.<br/>
<br/>
You almost collapse at the sight of her.<br/>
<br/>
She looks just like your sister. Bouncy blonde hair pulled behind her neck to fall between her shoulder blades in thick waves; pearl earrings; clear skin; starchy blouse and pressed pants. <i>Little Miss Queen of the Sophomore Class.</i> She gives you a quick, bright glance before rushing past. "Yes?" she calls out breathlessly as she tumbles to the bottom of the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
Your mom is waiting with folded arms. "Did you to eat yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"I had a snack," you reply; Leslie shakes her head.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, go out and get yourselves something to eat." She picks up her purse and digs through it. "Not fast food, either. Someplace you can go in and sit down."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh fuck,</i> you catch yourself muttering under your breath as you take the sheaf of twenties she proffers. <i>They're about to have a domestic.</i><br/>
<br/>
But Leslie's face is shining brightly. "Can we bring you back anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"We already ate. You can meet up with friends, if you want."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll go get my stuff," she chirps. "Love you, Mom!"<br/>
<br/>
But you grab her by the elbow before she can dash off. "Come on, Les. Kids night out."<br/>
<br/>
"But—"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need anything. Let's just get going."<br/>
<br/>
She jerks herself free. But though she shoots you a dirty look she does follow you outside.<br/>
<br/>
"So where do you want to go?" you ask on your way out to the car.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care. Wherever. If it's just to <i>eat,</i> you know—"<br/>
<br/>
"To eat <i>and</i> talk. We got stuff to talk about, you know. You and me. Spencer and Leslie."<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you over the top of the car, then giggles.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," she says as she slides in and buckles up. "Spencer and Leslie Osbourne." She repeats it in a singsong.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," you agree. You start the car. "I wanna know how come you picked Leslie."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't pick her." There's a greasy titter behind her words. "Your friends picked her out for me."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean they just said, 'Here, you have to be Leslie'? They didn't give you, like, a choice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, there was a choice, but it wasn't much of one. You know? I mean, <i>Leslie!</i>" She giggles again and hugs herself. "She's so perfect, right? You know that, don't you? Spencer?" She giggles. "Even her own <i>brother</i> can see—"<br/>
<br/>
"Her brother thinks she's a stuck-up little bitch who acts like she's too good for most people."<br/>
<br/>
She sniggers. "Like mother, like daughter, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's what I want to know about. You <i>knew</i> Mom and— Mr. and Mrs. Osbourne, didn't you? Before." You take your eyes off the road long enough to shoot her a couple of hard glares. "Did you go to school with them or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tch!" She rolls her eyes. "What makes you think—?"<br/>
<br/>
"You knew their names. Also, your double, the thing that replaced you, it ran into them on her way out. Everyone recognized each other, called each other by name. Hi, Diane! Hello, Heather! No one looked real happy about it, either."<br/>
<br/>
Leslie's mouth falls open in a grin. Then she laughs—a long, low, guttural sound, like dirty ditch water gurgling inside a culvert.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I bet that was great! What happened? Come on! Dish!" She grabs your arm, and you can feel her fingernails even through the puffy jacket. "What did they all say when they saw each other? What did Mom—?" She sucks in a breath. "<i>Mom,</i>" she repeats, savoring the word. "What did <i>Mom</i> say?"<br/>
<br/>
"What the <i>fuck</i> is with you? What the <i>God-damned fuck?</i> Les— I mean, Diane—"<br/>
<br/>
"Tsh! You had it right the first time." She hugs herself. "Leslie Osbourne. Mmm!"<br/>
<br/>
With a hard jerk of the wheel you hurl the car into the parking lot of a strip mall and jam on the brakes.<br/>
<br/>
"I will throw you out of the fucking car right now if you don't tell me—"<br/>
<br/>
"You do, and you'll get in so much fucking trouble with Mom," she jeers back. "So don't fucking threaten me, <i>Spencer.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell me what is going on. You can feel yourself up tonight. But if we're gonna live together, if we're gonna be fucking brother and sister, I wanna know what kind of a shit storm we're gonna be in for. 'Cos that's what it feels like is coming. A shit storm!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"It's some sicko revenge thing she's got going," you report to Caleb later that night, after you're back home. You dropped Leslie off at her friend Laura's house after getting only a quick bite to eat; you didn't want to spend any more time with her than you had to after she had made a clean breast of things. "Jesus, man," you groan. "Why the fuck did Bhodi and them have to dangle Leslie Osbourne in front of her?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's it fucking matter, Will?" Caleb retorts. "It's none of our business. You wouldn't even be worrying about it except you decided to."<br/>
<br/>
"She's gonna fuck something up."<br/>
<br/>
"If someone's gonna fuck something up, it's gonna be Bhodi and them."<br/>
<br/>
"Why, what are they up to?" you interject.<br/>
<br/>
"I just mean, they're a lot of dumb sophomores. At least Dane's mom is an adult."<br/>
<br/>
"I got serious doubts about that, man, the way she was talking." You shudder.<br/>
<br/>
"So how's she gonna fuck things up? What's this revenge thing you're talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"They all went to high school together. Dane's mom and Leslie's mom and Leslie's dad. Her dad was—"<br/>
<br/>
"He's your dad now too, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, Jojo. But anyway, he was, like, a star soccer player and stuff, real popular jock and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Like Marc Garner?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess. You wouldn't know it to look at him, though, not these days. Something for Garner to look forward to, I guess. But anyway, he was already dating Leslie's mom—"<br/>
<br/>
"Your mom."<br/>
<br/>
"—but he did it with Dane's mom at a party."<br/>
<br/>
"Did it?" he echoes. "What, you mean he—"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean he fucked her. Dur. Took her in a bedroom and pulled her panties down and rooted around in her like a blind hog digging for acorns."<br/>
<br/>
"When was this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Back when they were in high school, I told you! Dane's mom was a real party girl, real popular but— Well, she didn't <i>say</i> she was totally the school slut, but I get the impression she was <i>totally the school slut</i> and it sounds like she was angling for him anyway. So she almost broke him and Leslie's mom up, she <i>says—</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Why do I care about old school gossip, Will?" Caleb demands. "I don't care what went on at school yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"The point is, they all got a history together, these people, and Dane's mom and Leslie's mom hate each other for it. Dane's mom's always hated Leslie's mom anyway, and by, you know, <i>stealing</i> her daughter's body—" You take a deep breath. "Well, it's totally sick, and I don't mean in a wicked cool way."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't get how it is, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"If you could have listened to her, man, you would!"<br/>
<br/>
You shiver as you remember the way Leslie gloated in the car. It made your skin crawl. <i>I'm Leslie now,</i> she said. <i>I'm Heather's perfect, </i>perfect<i> daughter. I'm perfect, the way Heather was </i>perfect.<i> It is perfect, isn't it? She goes through all the trouble of giving Tom a perfect daughter, a perfect copy of herself ... And now </i>I'm<i> that perfect daughter.</i><br/>
<br/>
Caleb sighs. "Well, what the fuck do want me to do about it, man? What exactly are you scared of?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't answer that. All you've got is a dread that Mrs. Matthias isn't going to be content with "being Leslie Osbourne" and might try doing something really radical ... and really awful.</span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121322424
author_id: seuzz
title: Identity Roulette
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You let Mrs. Matthias prattle on about her new life—about the new girl she is going to be—until she runs out of steam. "That sounds great," you say after she's lapsed into a dreamy silence and gone back to flipping through pictures on her phone. "But I guess I should go."<br/>
<br/>
She nods, and doesn't look up.<br/>
<br/>
"Or, I guess <i>we</i> should go," you correct myself. Mrs. Matthias doesn't react.<br/>
<br/>
It's a stiff-legged gait that carries you back to the bedroom to fetch the others. As you push open the door, you resolve not to explain to Mrs. Matthias what three high school students—two guys and a girl—were doing in a back bedroom of her trailer.<br/>
<br/>
And she doesn't ask. She just does a massive double-take and stares open-mouthed as your trio trudges to the door. "Good night, Mrs. Matthias," Caleb says. "Later, ma'am," you say. "Bye," Lindsay mutters.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's no talk on the drive back, until Caleb pulls up at Lindsay's house. "Remember, you don't tell <i>anyone</i> what happened tonight," you tell the golem as she starts to get out of the car. "You haven't seen me or Caleb. You were home all evening. You were doing homework. That's all."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever you say," she grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you still have the grimoire?" Caleb asks her. The golem returns him a sullen look, then looks at you. "Do you have the grimoire?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. In my closet."<br/>
<br/>
"Tell her to bring it out," Caleb says, and you relay the order. Lindsay slams the car door and stomps into the house.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ," he mutters. "Can you imagine <i>being</i> that little troll?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've seen you stomp around in a bad mood like that before."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shoves a middle finger next to your nose.<br/>
<br/>
"Here," Lindsay says when she returns, and pushes the book at you through the car window. "Anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Caleb will pick you up tomorrow and take you out to the Donna Courts motel. Go with him. We're gonna talk."<br/>
<br/>
"What about?"<br/>
<br/>
"People. You can go inside now." You roll up the window on her sullen stare. <br/>
<br/>
Yes, you need to talk to her about people. <i>Who can I be?</i> you need to ask her, <i>Who hangs out with you, or could hang out with you, so I can keep an eye on you?</i> You would have that talk with her tonight, but you can put up with her attitude for only for a little bit at a time, and you've definitely had your daily quota.<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the deal?" Caleb asks after pulling back into the street. "You got a special job for her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I want to talk to her about aliases. I still need one."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfaw!"<br/>
<br/>
You jerk around at Caleb's exclamation. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
He only grimaces, and for half a block ignores your repeated "What?" <br/>
<br/>
Then an idea seems to occur to him, and he lunges into a right hand lane and swerves onto another boulevard.<br/>
<br/>
"You and these aliases," he fumes. "How many people have you been since we started this mess? Five? Six? Twenty? Four score and—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Those were temporary," you retort. "You know, to get, like, Evie back."<br/>
<br/>
"But this new one is going to be permanent?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ye-es."<br/>
<br/>
He snorts again. "And you're going to let Lindsay— Correction. You're going to let a <i>copy</i> of Lindsay pick one out for you."<br/>
<br/>
You feel your face reddening. "I'm not going to let her <i>pick.</i> I'm going to ask her for ideas."<br/>
<br/>
"You <i>were</i> going to <i>be</i> her."<br/>
<br/>
"And I changed my mind!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck. It's like you can't sit still, man. You're not happy wherever you land. Or any time you get close to <i>being</i> someone, you find some reason to back off."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's pretty fucking important that I get the right person! Don't you think?" You breath turns labored, and your chest heaves. "I mean, we're talking about the rest of my life!"<br/>
<br/>
"The rest of someone else's life, you mean. So it has to be perfection? You're never gonna pick someone in that case."<br/>
<br/>
You glower at him.<br/>
<br/>
"So here's what we're going to do," he continues. "No, hang on. We're just going to do it, I'm not gonna give you a chance to argue." He jerks the wheel hard again and lurches into a shopping center. "Stay here," he says, and he leaves the motor running as he runs into a drugstore.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind up at a back table at Starbucks, you with a baffled and angry look on your face and Caleb with a grim expression as he bends over the small notebook he bought at the CVS. He shields it from you as he writes on a page, then tears it into four strips. These he folds up. Then he writes on a fifth strip, tears it out, and puts it in his shirt pocket.<br/>
<br/>
All that done, he wedges the first four slips of paper between the knuckles of his right hand. "Pick one," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him, the fold your arms and curl your lip. "No."<br/>
<br/>
"Come on."<br/>
<br/>
"No. Those are the names of aliases. You want me to pick an alias that <i>you</i> chose, and then make me—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, these are the names people who will <i>pick</i> an alias for you," he says. "You're going to pick one, and we're going to go to them, and we're not going to tell them what it's about. But we're going to ask them, If you could be anyone else at Westside— No! Anybody else in Saratoga Falls, who would it be? Then we'll ask them for a second choice. And <i>that's</i> who you'll be."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be their <i>second</i> choice?" you ask. That makes no sense.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, their second choice if you can't be their first choice. Because maybe <i>they're</i> going to be their first choice. Yeah, Joe Dickerson's name is on one of these pieces of paper. And maybe for him we'll have to ask for a third or fourth choice, you know, if he names people that his friends—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so else did you write down? Who are we supposed to be asking?" You're pretty sure you don't like this game, but you want an excuse for rejecting it.<br/>
<br/>
"Joe, Bhodi, Lindsay, and me." Caleb pats his pocket. "I wrote down my choice and put it in my pocket, so you'll know I'm not fucking with you."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him. <i>This is stupid,</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
But then second thoughts crowd in on you.<br/>
<br/>
It does seem like you're having a very squirrely time of settling down. Instead of picking an alias, you asked Joe for advice. Then after you picked Lindsay, you changed your mind. You were going to get suggestions from Lindsay, then sent her home without talking about it. And what if you don't like her suggestions? Will you just keep chasing names, and changing your mind? Like Caleb says you're doing?<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, man," Caleb mutters.<br/>
<br/>
Your fingers twitch.<br/>
<br/>
"Show me the names," you challenge him. "So I know you're not fucking with me, show me it's not just <i>your</i> name on all those pieces of paper."<br/>
<br/>
So he sighs, and unfolds all the slips, showing that they have the names he said were on them. Then he folds them back up, shakes them in his hand, and slides them back between his knuckles.<br/>
<br/>
Still you hesitate. There's an awful finality about this.<br/>
<br/>
Then another, more devilish thought comes to you: <i>I'll take the person </i>you<i> picked, asshole, if you pick one of the other three names and turn yourself into the person </i>they<i> pick.</i><br/>
<br/>
Vote on where to continue the story: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/941686" target="_top" title="An entry from the book 'The Book of Masks Homepage' (Item #2156493)">Today's Post and Poll: The Whys and Hows</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/941686" target="_blank" title="Open Item in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a> </span></div></div>


path: 11121113211222221222222122121122111111111111212141121121324
author_id: seuzz
title: Clouds of Fame and Glory
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The meeting is at Justin Orr's house, but it's Andy Jensen who lets your quartet in. He seems very ill at ease, and he stammers when Mrs. Orr (a dark-haired woman who is as horsey-faced as her son) comes in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Hey," Andy mumbles at her. "These are, uh, some friend's of Justin's, from school." He flings a stiff arm in your direction. You smile and nod at Mrs. Orr; she smiles and nods gravely back, and watches as Andy stiffly leads you all upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
"Pft, you think your mom cares who we are?" Joe mutters at Andy's back.<br/>
<br/>
"She's not my mom," Andy (or is it?) shoots back. "She's Justin's mom."<br/>
<br/>
Grant laughs, and grabs Andy (or is it?) from behind. "Bullshit," he chortles as they thump against a wall. "I'll hold him down while you guys get the mask—"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop it," Caleb growls. Everyone turns when a door at the end of the hall opens, and Justin Orr (or is it?) peeps out. His eyes are wide with worry, and his chronic acne is flushing very red.<br/>
<br/>
Grant snorts at Andy (or is it?). "Don't try messing with the pros, man," he tells him. "We can see the moves a mile away."<br/>
<br/>
Justin's bedroom is small and narrow, and the floor is layered with discarded shirts and trousers; a musty odor of unwashed clothes and unwashed teenage boy rises off them. Between the bed, the dresser, and a computer desk and chair, there is hardly space for one person to turn around, let alone the six of you trying to bundle into it, and the sophomores cuss as they fight each other for space on the bed. Caleb props himself against the narrow window ledge; you shut the door and lean against it with folded arms.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so me and Will spent the day making up a bunch of masks," Caleb starts. "Hey, can I get your attention?" he yells as Grant and Joe shove each other.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Bhodi?" you ask, and roll your eyes as Justin (or is it?) tumbles off the bed.<br/>
<br/>
"He's not coming," Grant says. He tries biting Joe, who squeals and pulls away, knocking Justin (or is it?) off the bed again.<br/>
<br/>
"He's not doing the thing with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," says Andy (or is it?). "Him and Paulina are— Quit it!" he yells at Grant, who has elbowed him in the back of the head.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looses a shrill whistle through his teeth, which mostly stills the boys, though Grant continues to push and elbow at the others.<br/>
<br/>
"But you guys <i>are</i> doing the thing," Caleb says. "So you have some names for us?"<br/>
<br/>
Grant guffaws—the only response any of them makes.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb turns to you. "Christ," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, guys," you say. "We're not mind-readers."<br/>
<br/>
Grant laughs so hard that snot flies out of his nose. "I'm gonna punch you in a minute," Caleb warns him, and Grant—his eyes dancing as he stifles a fit of the giggles—folds his hand in a "Scout's honor" sign.<br/>
<br/>
"Grant wants to be Kaylee Mercier," Joe says. Grant blushes so deep behind his grin that he almost turns as red as his cherry-dyed hair. "Uh, do you know who she is?" Joe asks Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Not a clue. I just want to know if you know who you want to be. You, whoever you are." He points at Justin (or is it?). "Who did you pick?"<br/>
<br/>
His zits turn very white even as his acne flushes very red. "Um." He gives Andy (or is it?) a lingering, sidelong glance.<br/>
<br/>
"Justin wants to be Ethan Clayborne," Andy (or is it?) says, "and I—" He stumbles over the pronoun. "I want to be Alejandra Roldan Cortes."<br/>
<br/>
Joe raises his hand. "Andrew Webb," he says. You start a little at the name: you know it, but can't quite place it.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, can you get to these people?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
Silence. "What do you mean, get to them?" Joe finally asks. <br/>
<br/>
Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you get them alone?" you explain. "Can you talk them into going off by themselves with you? Get them someplace quiet where you hit them with a mask and take their clothes off them and turn yourself into them? You can't do it in the middle of the school hallways, you know," you continue as they all, including Grant, get very quiet. "You have to lure them someplace. Just you and them. So you can replace them. So can you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Caleb mutters as all four boys hang their heads.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"They're gonna need help," Caleb declares as you and he drive off after the meeting has broken up. Nothing got decided, except that the boys would get together again with Bhodi to brainstorm strategies for getting at their targets. "No way they're gonna be able to get to those people without cocking it up."<br/>
<br/>
"So we'll help them out. But I'm not gonna supervise them after that."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, who said you were going to?" Caleb retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking about it," you admit. "Thinking maybe I should move down into the sophomore class to keep an eye on them, make sure they didn't do anything stupid. Maybe keep an eye on Lindsay and the girls, make sure they don't figure out what's going on." You ignore the slit-eyed, sidelong glance Caleb is giving you. "But fuck it. I'm just gonna do my own thing. What about you?" you ask. "You thought about getting a new ID?"<br/>
<br/>
He scowls. "Every time someone tries that trick," he says, "it blows up in their new face. But I guess some people learn slower than others."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Shit," you mutter as Caleb starts to pull into the Donna Courts. "It's Kim. I don't wanna run into her." The student council president is pushing a laundry cart across the parking lot. So Caleb does a massive and likely illegal U-turn, then makes an even spikier and more illegal dash across the boulevard to the Sunshine Cafe. "Jesus, it's like you're practicing to be a getaway driver," you snort at him.<br/>
<br/>
Inside—for there seems no better place to hang out—you're seated by a blonde kid your age who acts like he knows you because he greets you by name. "Who's that?" you mutter at Caleb after you're seated and have ordered a pot of coffee.<br/>
<br/>
"Sean Wilcox. Don't you know who anyone is except Tilley and me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Every time I meet someone new, it blows up in my face," you retort. If he catches your call back to his earlier jibe, he doesn't show it. "But how does he know me if I don't know him?"<br/>
<br/>
"You do know him, obviously, only you've got the memory of a sparrow and forgot."<br/>
<br/>
You hope he's right. Because, as there's now another one of you floating around, there's an alternative explanation. You're relieved that Sean, after dropping off the coffee, leaves you and Caleb alone to mumble at each other.<br/>
<br/>
Until after Caleb's left, that is. About twenty minutes into the coffee, he gets a text from Joe, asking for you guys to come back out to talk with them and Bhodi some more. You demur, but Caleb with a sigh rises and shuffles back out to the car. He's been gone about two minutes, and you're two minutes closer to boredom-induced insanity, when Sean stops at your table with a fresh pot. <br/>
<br/>
"So I heard Javits broke his fist on your face," he says. "It doesn't look like he did you any damage. I saw the shiner you gave him, though." He grins.<br/>
<br/>
And you almost shit yourself. This is much worse than being cornered by Kim. "Yeah, well," you mumble, "it wasn't a big thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Ooh, so modest. I also heard you impressed the fuck out of Patterson. Asshole's actually gonna give you a shot." He raises his hand for a high-five, but you're too baffled to follow through. Sean's brow furrows. "Isn't that right? That's what I heard."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, yeah, he is," you stammer. <i>He is what?</i> "I just didn't know he told other people."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I hear things." Sean smirks, then does a double-take out the window. "Hey, it's Terry," he says. "You comin' out to his place tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>?!?!?!?</i> "Uh ... maybe?"<br/>
<br/>
A minute later, a tall kid comes loping in. He's skinny, with a long face under soft brunette bangs that have been dyed blue. His eyelids fall heavily into a stoner's droop, but the eyes beneath are keen, and he studies you with twinkly amusement as, with long fingers, he puts a cigarette to his lips.<br/>
<br/>
"You're sick, man," he says around it, and raises his hand for a high-five. This time you remember to return the gesture, though you fumble the complicated handshake that follows. "Want you at my place tomorrow, wanna hear more stories about Chelsea's squirmy pussy. Sick!"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, take that thing outside," Sean snaps at him. "We're not zoned for it."<br/>
<br/>
Terry—that's who it must be—coolly blows a smoke ring in Sean's face. "I'll take this with me," he says as he twitches your ticket off the table.<br/>
<br/>
"You're covering that!" Sean calls after him. Terry just smirks over his shoulder as he saunters back out the door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Jesus!" Caleb hunches over with laughter as he falls into the motel room. You yank him inside and slam the door. "What's wrong?" he gasps, but his eyes are still dancing with amusement.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm still dodging Kim, <i>and</i> Sean, <i>and</i> Sean's friend Terry, <i>and</i> Seth Javits, apparently." You squeeze the bridge of your nose. "If I run into one more person who knows the famous Will Prescott, I'll—"<br/>
<br/>
"Then I just saved you," Caleb chortles. "I was just getting out of my car when this BMW pulls in. The girl driving it takes one look at me and does this massive U-turn and jumps back into the street. Didn't you hear all the horns blasting?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Who was it?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a look. "How many people do we know who drive BMWs? It was Kelsey, dur. Man!" A dreamy look comes into his eye. "That's someone worth swapping bodies with!"<br/>
<br/>
The comment is on point, for now you're desperate to pull off a swap.</span></div></div>


path: 111211132112222212222221221211221111111111112121411211213241
author_id: seuzz
title: Someone to Watch Over Me
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Kelsey was here? Thank God she drove off!" you exclaim. "She was probably here to see Kim, and I'm in enough trouble— Or someone who looks like me is in enough trouble—"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" Caleb grins. "Did you get up to something while I was gone?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but it sounds like my twin did. After you left, that Sean guy came over to talk to me at my table. He said something about how I got in a fight with Javits at school."<br/>
<br/>
"No!" Caleb explodes with laughter.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you hear about that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I told you, I don't hang out with you anymore. I wonder if it was on account of Tilley." Caleb's eyebrows twitch. "No, scratch that, Gordon wouldn't give a shit about Tilley. Javits must'a just gone after you on account of, you know." He smirks. "You deserve it almost as much as Keith."<br/>
<br/>
You put a fist to his mouth, but he just grins at it.<br/>
<br/>
"Then this other guy," you continue, "Terry or something, has blue hair here—" You swipe your palm across the brim of your ball cap. "He comes in and is all talking how I'm s'posed to come out to his place and talk about Chelsea's pussy some more."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's jaw sags. Then he falls back onto the bed and howls at the ceiling. You jump on him and pound him on the stomach until he stops.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck me, man," he gasps, and wipes away some tears. "I really need to hook up with you again at school, it sounds like. Gordon, you magnificent bastard! It sounds like he's going around talking about— Phfwaauugh!" He burst out laughing again. "I bet he's dishing out every detail about her pussy! What it feels like, smells like, how wet she gets, how tight she gets around his fingers! And he's telling them all this—" His mouth twists up. "While looking like <i>you!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"They'll all think I'm delusional!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, they'll all think he's a fantastic porn writer! Anyway, that's not you anymore, so what do you care what happens to Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink at him, then throw yourself onto the bed in a sulk.<br/>
<br/>
Because he's right. <i>Will Prescott</i> and <i>you</i> are different people now. Or are going to be.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't take it personally, Will," Caleb says. "Gordon's the one making himself look ridiculous, and he deserves it."<br/>
<br/>
You turn your face to the wall.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, I got news from the guys," Caleb continues. "Bhodi's gonna help them out. He's gonna get with Andrew Webb, that soccer player, and get Andy swapped in for him. Andy for Andrew, I mean. Christ, that sounds like a comedy routine waiting to happen. But after that, they figure they can get the others, since Andrew's more plugged in than them."<br/>
<br/>
You nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Caleb says. "Let it go."<br/>
<br/>
"Let what go?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb punches you in the shoulder. "The whole Gordon being a sick doofus thing. Think about the future! I thought you were totally into helping out Dickerson and them."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
He lets you stew for a minute before speaking again. "So are you having second thoughts?"<br/>
<br/>
You groan. No, you're not having second thoughts about helping the sophomore boys, and you're not having second thoughts about letting Gordon have your life while you grab yourself another. It's just that you hate what it looks like Gordon is doing to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, it looks stupid to us," Caleb says when you share these misgivings with him. "But that's only 'cos we both know you, and we know how— Uh—" He breaks off as you glare at him. "It would be really funny," he resumes, "if it was <i>you</i> talking about Chelsea's pussy and going mano-a-mano with Javits. But it doesn't sound like anyone else is laughing. Maybe they think it's kind of cool."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft."<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, I don't know what you think you're gonna do about it."<br/>
<br/>
You don't know either. So after indulging in one last deep sigh, you pick up a mask and suggest that you finish up as many of the dumb things as you can.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb sticks with you until ten, and together you polish up most of the masks and make a few more brain bands while keeping the TV on low in the background. You're still restless after he's gone, though, and are careless enough to step out into the night to get a soda from the machine. That's how you run into Kim again outside the office.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, hey," she gasps. "I didn't know you—" She catches herself, and you shrink back as she peers at you closely. "I didn't know you were still hanging out here."<br/>
<br/>
"Just for another day or two," you croak.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." She compresses her lips, and her eyes deepen with concern.<br/>
<br/>
"Will," she says, "I know it's none of my business, but I have to ask. Is everything alright for you at home?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! Sure! I'm only staying here 'cos— Um—" <i>What was the excuse you gave her?</i><br/>
<br/>
The lines around her eyes tighten. "Because I know you're denying it at school. You're telling everyone you're <i>not</i> staying here. I'm sorry," she adds. "I should have respected your privacy and not said anything about your being checked in here. But I didn't think—" She hesitates. "I didn't think anything was wrong."<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing is wrong!"<br/>
<br/>
Disbelief shows in her eyes, and she glances over her shoulder before stepping up close and looking up into your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Will," she says, "you know we have resources at school for kids who are ... in trouble. Having trouble. I know you don't think they're for you," she adds as you stiffen. "Or for kids like you. I've met your family, and you all look, um, almost like stereotypes for the nuclear family. But those resources are for <i>everyone.</i> And they're totally confidential. No one would ever know that you talked to someone."<br/>
<br/>
Flop sweat has now broken out all over your body. "I'm fine, Kim," you croak. "I just need a few days by myself to, uh, get my head together about something." You sweep off your cap and fluff out your stiff hair.<br/>
<br/>
Kim holds your eye, then beams at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I'm glad that's all," she says. "And you know, I <i>am</i> your friend, even if we don't talk that much. So, if you ever just need to talk, or want to hang out, or go see a movie, just get with me or with a pack of us, you only have to ask." She twitches the front of your shirt, and you jump a little inside.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks. Um, I might. But right now I'm just on my way to get a soda."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll let you go, then. I'd offer to pay for it myself, but soda's are our profit margin. I'm kidding," she adds as you stare at her. She smiles and sweeps past you to the office.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what was wrong with the Donna?" Caleb asks you the next day when he catches up to you at the Layzee-Nites motel, where you'd checked in that morning.<br/>
<br/>
"The manager was giving me shit. Also, I've stopped eating at the diner. Meanwhile—" You proudly sweep an expansive hand toward the bed, where you have all the masks (now polished) and most of the brain bands (most of them done) spread out.<br/>
<br/>
"Nice," Caleb says. "Guys'll be happy about this. I need to pick a couple of them up, in fact. Bhodi's set it up for Andy to make a swap this afternoon, and I think they're gonna try for another one tonight. Oh, if you ever wanna move back over to the Donna, I can tell you <i>all</i> about what you've been up to in and out of school."<br/>
<br/>
His guffaw makes your blood run cold.<br/>
<br/>
"So," he says as he settles onto the bed with a mirthful expression. "You know that 'Gordon'" —he makes air quotes— "got kicked off the basketball squad after turning into a pot-smoking goofball. Well, the team was just going to elevate someone from the JV squad— Oh, and I got most of this from Carson and James, by the way, who are giving each other hand jobs because they're so <i>freaking</i> excited about everything that's going on. But I got confirmation from other sources. Yeah, yeah, I know, get on with it," he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"So they <i>were</i> going to elevate one of the JV players, but then the coaching staff got wind that a couple of guys from Eastman are going to be transferring over to Westside, and get this, it's some of the guys on the Eastman basketball squad who are going to be coming over, and they'd be <i>very</i> interested in joining the Westside team. Well, one thing leads to another, and next thing you know the squad is holding private, invitation-only tryouts so the Eastman guys, and any Westside guys who are interested, can try to get onto our squad. To get an invite, though, you have to do some kind of audition for Steve Patterson." He makes a face at the name of Gordon's best friend and fellow goon.<br/>
<br/>
"So what's this got to do with me?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb turns puckish. "So who do you think one of the guys is who's trying out for a spot on the team?"<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to catch on. <i>"Gordon?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"No. Will Prescott. And guess what, he <i>got an invite.</i> Patterson liked his moves enough that he's going to let, uh, <i>you</i> attend the actual try outs."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. And that's how you got in a fight with Javits, 'cos he was giving you shit about it. Ha! I hear Javits got the worst of it, too."<br/>
<br/>
You cover your face with your hands.<br/>
<br/>
"Also, I should mention that I ran into Dorothy Harmon at the Donna when I was looking for you over there. She was asking if you were going over to—" He frowns. "Colson's? Anyway, some party tonight."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After Caleb has gone, you ponder the possibilities.<br/>
<br/>
Kim Walsh has her finger on the pulse of the school. The basketball squad would be a good blind to watch Gordon from. But they'd be hard to get to—maybe these people like Colson he's hanging out with would be easier to get.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe as a random replacement at school you could edge up to Gordon.</span></div></div>


path: 1112111321122222122222212212112211111111111121214112112132411
author_id: rugal
title: Preparing For A Kim-personation
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>But Kim is just too tempting a target. She's a nosy busybody who makes it a point to get to know everyone, what they're doing and what's going on. If she wanted to she could basically run the entire school herself, set herself up real good (and if you'd decided on that cockamamie idea of being a drug kingpin she would've made a good hiding spot you muse) but she wouldn't do that. Kim is way too nice. When she stops someone in the halls, when she was talking to you at the Donna... she's genuine. There's no malice from her. She's not (intentionally) patronizing. It's why she's so well-liked.<br/>
<br/>
Even, apparently, by a former hulking basketball player trapped in the body of a scrawny twerp. You're curious to find out just what it was that Gordon got up to with Kim at that party. Did they hang out? Did they flirt? Was it something else entirely? Something more?<br/>
<br/>
You run a finger over one of the blank masks and another over one of the finished mind bands. Becoming Kim Walsh. Becoming the senior class president. A girl who you were once on equal terms with but whose popularity has far eclipsed your own... yet she's always remained unpretentious and with a minimum of ego.<br/>
<br/>
It frustrates you now that you think about it. Why did you have to get so hung up on Lisa? If a fucking caveman like Gordon could put the moves on Kim and charm her, why couldn't you have done the same? You've got twice, no three times the brains he does. You could've totally done it as well and then you could've left Lisa in the dust with that dickhead boyfriend of hers while you and Kim... you and Kim...<br/>
<br/>
You sigh.<br/>
<br/>
No, you totally couldn't have done it. Because what Gordon lacks in brains he makes up for in confidence; in swagger. He believes he's a big deal, he caress himself like a big deal. The phrase "fake it 'till you make it" could describe him as easily as it could describe the predicament you've found yourself in. Gordon got in a fight with Seth Javits. He's getting invite-only tryouts for the basketball team. He's going to all these parties and putting the moves on Kim Walsh and, who was it Caleb said, Dorothy Harmon?<br/>
<br/>
In a week or two he's made Will Prescott into a rising star while you spent years wallowing in obscurity.<br/>
<br/>
You definitely couldn't have done what he did. But that was before. Things are different now. You've got the masks, you've got Caleb and these idiot (but well-meaning) sophomores. You outsmarted a scary drug dealer like Dwayne and your wild plan to get Evie back after your own mistakes actually worked. So you're actually feeling confident yourself. No, you won't have to fake it now. Because with these masks you're not faking it. You're not going to <i>pretend</i> to be Kim Walsh, you're going to <i>be</i> Kim Walsh.<br/>
<br/>
The mane of curly red hair, the slim build with the surprisingly perky breasts and cute butt, the cute face, the intelligence, the popularity, the achievements, the place at the top... all yours. Because they all belong to Kim Walsh and very, very soon you think as you eye the masks once more, you will be Kim Walsh.<br/>
<br/>
You'll have to be because you're certainly no longer Will Prescott anymore. That life was lost the minute Caleb slapped that mask onto Gordon. You've been a... thing. A being with no identity floating from once face to the next trying to find some place, any place, to settle. A vagrant looking for a new home. Well, you've found it and you could hardly have gotten a better one.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb, with Bhodi and Andy in tow, stops by after school. You give them the masks and bands that they'll need, the goop, everything else. You make sure to tell them about using their hair in the masks as well to make sure that their replacements are under their control. They inform you that they're going to get Justin too because they're going to be making his swap later tonight after Andy's settled into Webb.<br/>
<br/>
You fret when they live, pacing around the room and grumbling that they're going to mess up. Caleb reassures you that they're going to be fine. You're not so sure. Andy and especially Bhodi seem to have good heads on their shoulders, all of these sophomores do, but they're just so... immature. You can't just freak out and do it, that's how you end up in situations like the one you find yourself in. Caleb again reassures you though. He tells you that he's the one who spent a week with them, working closely with them as they all went through the book. If they were fuck ups they couldn't have gotten this far, even with him helping them.<br/>
<br/>
You decide that's a convincing enough argument because you don't really have a counter for it. He asks what you're going to do and you tell him that you'll be swapping into Kim.<br/>
<br/>
"Aiming high," he says with a whistle.<br/>
<br/>
"She's right there if I go back to the Donna tonight," you tell him. "If I wanted someone she's the easiest to get."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd be easier," he counters, "but I don't think you'd want to be me."<br/>
<br/>
"I want to keep on eye on Gordon," you admit. "Obviously Gordon's been talking to her and even if he wasn't..."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, yeah I getcha," Caleb says before taking his leave. You tell him that you'll get in touch with him once the switch is made. Not to talk, just shooting him a text indicating everything's good. You'll want the night to settle in before talking to everyone else.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You fix the mind band that contains the copy of your brain to the inside of Dane's mask. It's an ad hoc solution but it'll get the job done and you hope that just Dane being physically present will be enough to soothe Mrs. Matthias, otherwise you'd have to work on a way of getting close to Dane so you could get a band on him too; you've decided to leave he and Gordon where they are.<br/>
<br/>
You check the bag to make sure you have the rest of the stuff you need: Dane's mask, the sealant, the blank band and mask, the golem goop. You'll be using that last bit on Dane's mask once you've got Kim out and the blank is copying her. You're worried that out here in the Donna's parking lot the smoke from the process will attract attention. In a room with a locked door and closed blinds you won't have to worry about it.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Kim says with surprise as you saunter up to the front desk. "The clerk told me you'd checked out this morning."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah I did," you say nervously. "I went over to LayZee Nights but..."<br/>
<br/>
"It's rough," Kim completes your thought as she scrunches up her face.<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Oh, but how'd the clerk know it was me specifically?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh gosh, I'm sorry Will!" Kim exclaims as her eyes widen and she draws her hands up to her mouth. "I told her to look out for you because I knew you from school and I was kind of, um, interested about you being here. I didn't say anything though because, um, well, you said there's nothing going on right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I did," you say. You're suddenly feeling very nervous and fidgety. "Look, can we talk?"<br/>
<br/>
Kim's eyes get even wider. "Will?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Just... give me the same room I had," you tell her. "And, uh, if it's not too much trouble could we..."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course!" she declares. You watch her operate the computer and tap away at the keyboard for a moment. "Okay, done. You're set up. I comped you for tonight since..."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
She stands up, grabs a key, walks around the desk and the two of you head out of the office and towards the door. Nothing is said as the two of you walk together past the doors and unlit windows. Several times you feel the urge to speak up and say something to her or ask her a question but nerves get the better of you and you push them back down.<br/>
<br/>
Why are you so nervous now? Earlier you'd been thinking to yourself, talking this big game about how you <i>were</i> Kim and now that she's right here, at your side and inches from you you're clamming up. What happened with her and Gordon? Beyond her own desire to help, why is she so interested in you? Could she be <i>interested</i> in you beyond wanting to help? Your heart is pounding as she unlocks the door and flips the lights on as she walks in. You follow and lock the door behind you.<br/>
<br/>
Could you have a chance with Kim? Could she be your girlfriend? Could she be your ally if you were honest with her?<br/>
<br/>
She stops by the bed, turns and clasps your hands. "Will," she says with a mix of affection and concern. "You, um, you wanted to... to continue right? What we did on Saturday?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, what we did?" you ask. You're sweating now. "Um, look, it'd be nice but Saturday is kind of a blur. The last few weeks are. What did we..."<br/>
<br/>
Kim gives you a curious look, she still holds your hands but backs off a bit. She's studying you, looking you up and down. "Will, we can... I'll tell you everything. We can do... whatever," she says. Your heart is pounding now. "But I want you to tell me the truth first. Something is going on with you Will. You're acting different, you're staying here and giving contradictory stories about not being here. Will, what's happening with you? I want you to be completely honest with me."</span></div></div>


