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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Good Teacher"  Together you and Sydney roll Mr. Hagerman and his chair over to the far corner of the room, where he can't be glimpsed through the window in the door. And as you did in Ms. Cho's room yesterday, you flick off the lights and lower the blinds. Reflecting back on it now, you're surprised at how lucky you are that none of the other teachers came barging into Ms. Cho's room yesterday, to find you and her naked on the floor. But you now know better how these things work, so you fish through Mr. Hagerman's pockets and his work satchel—a leather case like a cowboy might carry—until you find his keys. With these, you lock the classroom door. "You sure you don't want him for yourself, Will?" Sydney asks you in a low voice. You bend to study the unconscious teacher. Up close, Mr. Hagerman not quite as devastatingly handsome as he was in your mind's eye. The bones in his face are very strong, but they are almost too strong, giving him a slightly Neanderthal look. His hair is wavy, but very stiff. As for his body— Well, he's dressed in a thin polyester shirt that's open at the neck and with the sleeves rolled up over the elbows, disclosing strong forearms and the top of a deep chest. The form of his shirt and jeans suggests muscles all over, so he's still a great physical specimen. But you shake your head. "I already picked Ms. Cho. You can have him." Sydney doesn't hesitate. "Can I leave you to take care of the rest?" she asks as she starts to unbutton her blouse. "So, there's another blank mask is in my purse," she continues as you try not to swallow your tongue. "The rest of the stuff is in my pack." She says nothing more, and dodges your eye as she finishes throwing off her clothes and settles onto the floor. "Make it a good copy, Will," she says, and shuts her eyes. You gulp, and move over to her things. The mask is all ready to go—polished up, with a memory strip already attached to its inner surface—and you kneel to set it on Sydney's face. She must have sensed your presence, for her brow furrows. But she doesn't open her eyes. Then her forehead clears as the mask vanishes into her, and she's just a slim, tanned, lovely girl, lying unconscious on the floor. * * * * * Some of Hannah Cho's prim embarrassment must have influenced you, for you don't linger to ogle Sydney, but settle into a nearby student desk, to patiently watch the clock and idly wonder what you'll find out about Mr. Hagerman after Sydney has assumed his form and memories. Hannah is not privy to most of the gossip at school, but she has the impression that Mr. Hagerman likes to play the field outside of school. Did he used to play it inside the school, with the other teachers? Did he get a stern talking to? Or was he just waiting for the right colleague to come along? Maybe Hannah Cho is the right colleague? You blush a little at the thought. Then you blush harder when you think that, yes, with these two body swaps, Hannah and Michael will be made for each other. Once, during your wait, you think you hear someone outside the door. But no one knocks or tries the knob. After about ten minutes, the mask appears on Mr. Hagerman's face. You have unpacked the rest of the supplies from Sydney's pack, but you're still applying the pedisequos layer to his mask when the other mask appears on Sydney's face. You finish up with the first mask—hurrying a little—before picking up and sealing Sydney's mask with another layer of pedisequos paste. Then you lay it against Mr. Hagerman's face. The transformation is over before you have a chance to see it start. One moment it's Mr. Hagerman slumping in the rolling chair. The next, it's Sydney. Her face and head and arms, at least. The rest of her is hidden by the clothes that now billow and deflate over her much smaller frame. She lifts her eyelids, and does a slight double-take at you. Then she looks down, at herself, then over at ... herself, the girl lying on the floor. She leans forward in the chair to study her. Then she lifts her eyes to yours. "Well, this is freaky," she says. "You better get changed," you tell the pedisequos, and reach over to pick up the clothes that Sydney had dropped. "And I'll get the other mask onto, um—" "No, leave her like that," the new Sydney says with a smirk. "Don't you want to get us in stereo like this?" she adds as she pulls open the shirt she's wearing. Her bare boobs pop out. You stiffen as you feel the blood flow to your cheeks. "I need to get her changed so we can get out of here," you say. "Fine," she snorts. "I gotta say, Will," she adds as she pulls off Mr. Hagerman's wardrobe, "you really surprised me by going along with these assignments." You feel your eyes water with embarrassment and anger. "No, really, I'm impressed," she continues as she changes. "It's very— Well, I was going to say 'open-minded' of you, but that's the wrong word. But it does show a lot of confidence. You know, I think this stuff we've been doing—the exotic and the metaphysical, I mean—has done you a world of good. Don't take this the wrong way—" She breaks off as she pulls her dress (a sheer, dark-purple thing) down over her head. "But I get the very strong impression that you freak out kind of easily. Or you used to. I don't think a month ago you'd have been caught dead in a dress, let alone in a body that has boobies." She winks at you. "But they're very becoming. And seriously, I like a guy who's got confidence." You can't find any words for a reply. Once settled into the dress (but still barefoot), the pedisequos gives you a long, twinkling smile. "Now tell me what you think about me," she says. "I promise I won't tell her." She gestures at the naked girl on the floor. "Although, it now suddenly occurs to me that that's one of the great things about these fake versions of ourselves. We'll be able to tell each other all kinds of things we'd never tell each other usually. Because it won't be them and it won't be us telling them. We'll all be fakes." Whatever she means by that, she's left you baffled, embarrassed, and a little angry. Ashamed, too, at listening to this ... creature ... prattling on, sharing confidences that the real girl never did. Is this really Sydney talking? Or is this some kind of mind-fuckery from a fake version of your girlfriend? So you ignore it to kneel next to the real Sydney, settling the other mask onto her face. You snatch your hand back as Mr. Hagerman's strong, masculine features replace Sydney's. "You gonna slap her awake now?" the pedisequos asks. "That's what she did to you yesterday. You should anyway, if you want to get out of here fast." It makes sense, so you shake the sleeping figure hard. When he doesn't respond, you slap him across the face a couple of times. The pedisequos pushes you aside with a snort. "Let me," she says, and with a resounding WHACK! lays a red welt across Mr. Hagerman's face. He flinches, gasps, and opens his eyes in a squint. "Ungh?" he says. "Sydney, can you hear me?" you ask. It's like the question she asked you yesterday. "Ungh?" he says again, and slowly sits up. With a deeper, longer groan, he lays a strong hand over the crown of his head. "I feel like shit," he mutters. "Come on, Sydney, we should get out of here. You'll feel better once you start moving." He only grunts again, and puts his face between his bare knees. The pedisequos casts you an amused glance. "She's even worse than you were," she says. Mr. Hagerman raises his face to frown at her. His eyes widen and his lip curls with disgust. "Oh God," he moans. "You kept it around instead of sending it home." "Go home," you tell the pedisequos. She looks amused. "You're not the boss of me, Will." "Go home," Mr. Hagerman growls. "Well, I guess I know when I've been given my marching orders," the girl says, and turns to gather up her things. "I'll leave it to you two love birds to make it a couple." Mr. Hagerman glares balefully at Sydney's doppelganger until it has gone. Even then, he is slow to gather up his clothes and start pulling them on—it's as though he's suffering a hangover. "You getting any of the memories?" you ask. "Ask when I feel human again," he mutters. So you stand back and watch as he dresses. As you'd guessed, he has strong legs and a meaty chest and flat stomach. His biceps flex and relax as he pulls his things on. After he's dressed and on wobbling feet, he shakes himself loose inside his clothes. "How are you doing?' you ask. He blinks and says nothing, then turns with a mystified frown toward the desk. He totters over to it and looks through the drawers, then half-gathers his stuff before stopping with a longer frown. You're starting to get worried. He is still frowning when he stalks from the room, walking as though his feet hurt. You follow and watch as he goes into a restroom. You wait for several long minutes for him to come back. When he does, his face is flushed, but he looks more alert. "Problem, Will," he quietly tells you. "I don't know a fucking thing I think I'm supposed to." Next: "A Test for Teacher" |
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