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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "It's a Boyfriend-Girlfriend Thing"  Human experimentation? That could go wrong in all kinds of ways you don't want to consider. Okay, maybe if you were still working on your own, you might—might!—give some serious thought toward doing something with that new spell. But you've got Katy involved now. It was tricky enough getting her to give you a chance when you started showing her this stuff. You really don't think she'd go along if you said you wanted to knock someone out, douse them with rocket fuel, and set them on fire. Besides, Katy's got a project of her own she wants to work on, so it's not like you still won't be having fun with things! * * * * * "You got your homework?" you ask Katy the next morning in the parking lot. She pulls the metal strip from her backpack and with a bright but panicked expression waggles it at you. "Lemme see." "Did I do good, teach?" Katy breathlessly asks as you take it from her. "I'll double-check it at lunch. Meet me out here? We can hang out in my truck, glue the stuff together and finish making it." Katy returns you a panicked grin. You catch your breath, and before you know what you're doing, you've caught her by the elbows and stepped in close to lean in and put your face into hers. You touch the tip of your nose to hers. Wow! you think. Then you jump back and give her a panicked grin of your own. Katy gasps. Then she squeals and touches you lightly on the arm. A thrill runs up it to your shoulder. It's the longest time (it feels like) before you can tear your gaze from hers. * * * * * You're only a few minutes from the first bell, and the girls' soccer team is already warming up on the fields, so on the way in to school you pull Katy over so she can point Hannah out to you. She's a husky girl but she's probably in better shape than you, with strong thighs, wide hips, and a massive head of wiry brown hair that she keeps pulled back in a head band. "She's big," you observe. Katy titters. "Don't you think you can handle a girl?" You give her a dirty look. "You think I couldn't?" She looks pettish. "I've been thinking." She goes up on tiptoes to put her mouth to your ear. "What if Stephanie put the mask onto her?" You rear back. "I thought we weren't telling your friends!" "I don't mean that!" Katy squeals. "No, I mean— I just mean, maybe it's someone who looks like Stephanie when we meet up with Hannah. That way—" She turns very pink as she breaks off before she can resume explaining. The plan she has come up with is very simple, and for that reason very likely to backfire spectacularly. She has already texted Hannah and asked to meet at the Panera Bakery and Cafe in order to "talk about" some of the problems that some of the girls are having with her. (Hannah knows she's not popular in some quarters of the school.) The idea, Katy tells you, is to corner Hannah in her car, get a mask onto her, and scamper off before she wakes up. Well, it has the virtue of the direct approach, but you can imagine it going pear-shaped in all sorts of ways. On the other hand, you don't have any better ideas. And Katy's idea for using Stephanie's face during the ambush would be a way of keeping the ambush from blowing back at you if you messed up. So you tell her you're fine with it. "You will be out there in time, won't you, Will?" Katy anxiously asks. You assure her that you will. * * * * * In fact, you make sure to get out to Panera very early. You circle the parking lot, then go inside to look for Katy. No sign. You're thinking of going back out to wait for her when the doors fly open and Stephanie walks in. Instinctively, you flinch. Calm down, you tell yourself. It's just Katy. She's already changed into the mask. But a hard lump forms in your chest as you watch the girl. She's standing very erect, with her shoulders back and her chest out, hands on her hips, in the don't-fuck-with-me attitude that Stephanie so casually carries around. She's dressed in Stephanie's typical wardrobe too: a polo shirt (turquoise) and hip-hugging shorts that show off her strong, tanned legs. She is slowly raking her gaze across the restaurant from behind a pair of shades. You're still giving her the wary once-over when she catches sight of you. Her mouth breaks into a white grin and she chucks her chin at you. "Hey Will!" Is it Katy? you ask yourself as you shuffle over in answer. Stephanie ignored you in Mr. Cash's class today. So why would she be so friendly now? "Is Hannah here yet?" she asks. "No, I haven't seen her," you slowly answer. "Um ... Have you seen Katy around?" Stephanie's eyebrows shoot up over the top of her shades. "Yes," she says through frozen lips. "She's here." Relief floods over you. But also anger and fear. "Jesus! You had me going!" you hiss. Her grin widens. "Did I? That's cool." "You're even dressed like—" You glance around. The middle-aged women and college students who are sitting nearby don't seem to be paying much attention. But you can't be too careful. "Let's take it outside." "You talking about my clothes, Will?" Stephanie asks as she follows you. "Yeah, I skipped out on school early, made a shopping run. I'm going to be in so much trouble for missing basketball!" She titters—the first break in her characterization. "Is that why I didn't see you at lunch?" You glance around the parking lot and into the street for some sign of Hannah Westrick, then remember you don't what she drives. "Do you know what kind of a car Hannah's going to be showing up in?" You turn to look at Stephanie when she doesn't answer. Her face has frozen into a familiar expression: a taut and watchful contempt. "Keep your shit together, Prescott," she says in a low growl. "You go flying off unhinged, you're going to fuck it up." Then, when you gape back at her, she grins. "Oh God," she gushes. "I'm freaking you out so hard, aren't I?" "Yeah, that's real funny. Do you know what she drives?" "Sure, a minivan." The smile slowly fades from her face, and she looks past you. "I'll go get the thing and keep watch here," she says, in a voice that has hardened again. "You can hang loose. I don't think I'm going to need you." "You asked me be here," you remind her. She gives you a long and steady look. "I want you here, Prescott, because I like you and I want you around. But I don't want you getting in the way. Besides, you don't want Hannah thinking you're mixed up in this, do you? She could kick your ass no trouble, and then she might get Marc and his friends to kick it if she really felt like holding a grudge." "And you?" you retort. Shamefacedly, you have to admit she's probably right. "You're going to get Stephanie in trouble!" Stephanie holds your eye, then gives the tiniest shrug. "Stephanie can take care of herself. Her friends can kick Hannah's friends' asses. And that includes Marc and his friends." You shiver at the expertness of her impersonation. It is uncanny, even if it's because the mask has Stephanie's personality inside it. * * * * * She follows you over to your truck, and you give her the mask that you assembled during lunch. She then goes back to guard the front of the restaurant. A quarter of an hour later, a minivan comes smoothly cruising into the parking lot, and Stephanie jogs out to meet it. The encounter is hidden from you by some obstructing vehicles, but a few moments later Stephanie steps back out into view and beckons you over. "Got it on her no trouble," she says, and gestures you toward the driver's side door of the minivan, which is loosely latched. You open it and peek inside. Hannah Westrick—a big girl with massive hair and a bold face—is slumped behind the wheel. "Yeah, she opened the door to get out," Stephanie says, "and I said, 'Hey, glad you could make it,' and pasted her right in the face. It felt good," she adds. "You're really getting into it, aren't you?" "What?" When you answer with half a smile, she says, "You mean acting like Stephanie? Yeah, sure. It makes it easier." But she looks uncomfortable. You don't say anything further, but watch Hannah's face for the reemergence of the mask. Stephanie busies herself with her cell phone. When something chimes inside Hannah's purse, she stops you from reaching for it. "That's just a text from me," she says, "telling her I can't make it out to meet. I, me, Katy," she clarifies. The mask falls into Hannah's lap before you can react. You snatch it up and close the door softly on the girl. Then you and Stephanie hustle off. "What's the next bit?" Stephanie asks. "We go back to the old school and seal it up." "And then?" "Then it's up to you." Stephanie breaks into a tigerish smile. * * * * * "Wow, this is so great, Will," Stephanie says. She is standing beside you, and she pushes her open hand up and down your back as, side by side, you stare down at the mask you have just finished sealing. The name HANNAH ELIZABETH WESTRICK floats over its inner surface. "I really can't thank you enough." You turn to study her profile. She is staring hungrily down at the mask as she continues to stroke your back. It's exciting. It's getting you excited all over to have her rub and stroke you that way. It makes you want to put an arm around her and kiss her. But she looks like Stephanie. You have to hesitate: Would it hurt Katy's feelings if you made a move on her while she was done up like her friend? Next: "Katydid, Then Katydidn't" |
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