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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Scouting a New Position"  Your mom blanches when you appear at the bottom of the stairs, and even Robert looks startled. Both of them stare at you, watchfully. "Where's dad?" you ask them. You give Robert a dark and wary glance before concentrating on your mother. She blinks, then says, "In his study." You turn for the study, but are stopped by a sharp word from Robert. "He's talking to someone at work, isn't he? Didn't he say he didn't want to be bothered?" "That's right," your mother says after a fractional hesitation. "He got a phone call. What do you need, Will?" Her expression settles into a pleasant smile. "I wanted to talk to him about that new job. Stephanie—it's her dad's work—she came by tonight to talk to him about it, but you weren't home. I want to talk to him about her coming back out to talk to him." "It's getting late, honey." "Well, not tonight. Tomorrow." You shift on your feet. You don't like the very frank stare that Robert is giving you. "Oh, then that should be fine." Your mom smiles broadly. "I'll talk to him about it when he gets free." "Uh huh." Still you shift from foot to foot. There is something in the air you don't like ... "Is something wrong, honey?" "No, I guess not." You can't stop yourself from darting a glance between her and Robert. They share a tenseness, and you feel as though you've interrupted a very important conversation, and that they (or Robert, at least) resent it. "Well, good night." You turn for the stairs. "Are you going to bed already?" "Bruh," Robert bursts out. "You finish your homework yet?" You glare at him. "None of your business!" "I got mine done early," he gloats. "Well, good for— you!" You run up the stairs to get away from his face, which has suddenly turned very smug. But at the top you linger, out of sight, to eavesdrop. You think you hear them muttering to each other, but then there's silence. No one comes up the stairs, so they must have moved into another room. * * * * * You're late getting away to school the next morning, because your dad is late getting downstairs for breakfast. Robert, who is a slow-coach in the mornings, actually beats him downstairs, and comes thundering into the kitchen like thirteen elephants. "'M gonna hang out at Shawn's place after school," you mumbles at your mother around the piece of toast he's jammed into his mouth. She's prepping sandwiches for your lunches, and nearly drops the jar of mayo she's holding. "Shawn?" she says, and wheels with an expression of alarm. Robert freezes. "Yeah. Shawn. Stephano." She stares at him, then sags with relief. "Oh. Him. I was thinking of someone else, I guess." "Yeah, we been talking about getting a game together in the field next to his house." His eyes shift to you, even as he helps himself to a couple of sausages from the still warm pan. "Your girlfriend coming over after school?" You decide to play into it. "Yeah, probably. Around dinnertime." "I don't think we can have a guest for dinner," your mother says, quietly. "You should start having her around lots," Robert says. "This is the girl with the basketball, right? Yeah, I liked her!" An impudent smile twists onto his lips. "You didn't like what she said to you that time." "Nah, that was fine. Does she talk to you like that?" "Robert, finish getting ready for school," your mother says. He shoots a quick, dirty look at the back of her head, then runs off after grabbing up the rest of the sausages. "If you invite that girl out," your mother tells you, "tell her to shoot for around seven-thirty. We'll be done eating by then." "We're eating that late?" "Just to be safe, Will. I haven't figured out what I'm making for dinner. What would you like?" She turns a bright smile on you. "Whatever. Did you talk to dad last night?" "About what? Oh! Yes, he'll listen to what she has to say, and he'll decide from there. And when you talk to this girl—" She catches herself. "Robert says she's your 'girlfriend'?" "Robert's being a little— pest." "Are you sure he hasn't, um ... Picked up on something?" Her eyebrows go up. Your heart sickens a little. "What do you mean?" "I mean— Do you like this girl? Is that one of the reasons you—?" "Mom!" "It's something to think about, Will," she warns you. "You want to take the job for the right reasons." "Stephanie would go out with Robert before she'd go out with me!" "Bruh!" Robert shouts from the other room. "Are you serious?" "And she'd eat a live tarantula before she'd go out with you!" you holler back. Robert only cackles. "You just want to be sure of your reasons, sweetheart." "You see what I mean about Robert being a pest?" She smiles tightly at you. "Brothers are like that, Will. You're like that to him." Except he deserves it, you think as you stalk away. * * * * * You are able to catch your dad only briefly before you have to leave for school. He seems very distracted, and only gruffly informs you that he'll be happy to talk to your friend after dinner. You thought Stephanie might be waiting for you again by the parking lot breezeway, but she isn't, not even after you texted her to ask if she could come by your house at seven. You think about looking for her in the gym classroom, but pass on it. Why do I keep thinking about her like she's my girlfriend? you ask yourself. You don't like the answer, which comes in the form of a frightening question: Could Mom be right? You never liked Stephanie before, because she was always so mean to you. She hardly ever paid any attention to you, and when she ever did it was to snort in disgust at something you had done. She's rough and blunt and runs over people and their feelings like a diesel locomotive. And you know she'll never be into you because of the way she broke down sobbing about Marc Garner and her crush on him. You could never compete with Marc, who is brightly handsome, strong and athletic, popular with all the guys and all the girls at school, and is friendly to everyone. (You've also heard he's taking a bunch of AP classes, but you doubt that's any part of why Stephanie likes him; still, that's another point in his favor over yours.) No way Stephanie's affections could ever drift off of Marc and onto you. But that's not the question, is it? No, the question is the one that your mom so bluntly put: Are you being tempted to think of Stephanie as a girlfriend? Are you getting a crush on her? And there's no denying (you reflect to yourself as you shove your way through the crowded halls toward first period) that you like her a lot better since she broke down and got friendly with you. She's still rough and blunt, but it's like she sees you for the first time as a real person and not some doofusy ding-a-ling who happens to be in her way. She's treating you like she treats her own friends. Which is flattering. And even more flattering is all the pains she's taking to get you that job at her family's business. It's ... weird. Which drags you back to the unanswerable question—Why is she suddenly treating me like this?—because obviously it can't be that she's getting to like you that way. With a sigh you conclude that your mom is probably right. Though Stephanie isn't a great beauty—she's too hard and uncompromising to be "pretty", and you doubt she has ever been inside a dress since she was six—she is definitely handsome, and she has a great rack and strong, supple, endlessly kissable thighs. And once a girl starts treating a guy nice, you morosely reflect, it's hard for him—or at least for you, it seems—not to get carried away and to start thinking of her that way. * * * * * So you've given yourself a bad case of the butterflies when you see Stephanie in class and confirm that she'll be out at your house after supper. (Though she'll text first, she says.) And a pit of fear opens up in your stomach when, on entering the main office at Salopek to punch in, the secretary calls your name and says that your father wants to see you up in his office. You're not sure which would be worse: That he wants to talk to you about Stephanie and the new job, or about your performance at this one. He's standing by his desk, frowning at the floor, when you appear in his doorway, and looks up with a startled expression when you call out. "Come in," he says. "Shut the door." A smile, unpleasant because it looks so awkward, distorts his mouth. You do as asked, and start a little when you see Sean waiting in the corner. You flinch—you know not why; maybe it's the queer look on his face—as he reaches past you to lock the door behind you. "I wanted to talk to you about that other job," your dad says. He turns to his desk. "Sean tells me he's interested in it too." "I've decided we both should have it," Sean says. Which is a puzzling remark. But before you can answer, he grabs you around the torso with his brawny arms. You gasp as he lifts you off the floor. Then your dad is swinging around. There is something blue in his hand, and he shoves it at your face. It's like being punched with a bowling ball. Everything goes black, and you feel yourself dragged down and through the ground into a crushing darkness. Next: "The Needle Skips" |
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