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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1053366
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by Seuzz
Rated: GC · Book · Occult · #2183311
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises.
#1053366 added August 1, 2023 at 3:24pm
Restrictions: None
A Plan Comes Together ...
Previously: "Party Prank Prep

It was not quite six-forty-five when you dropped into a booth at the Crystal Cave to wait for Huber. Gordon wanted you to wait until he was off work, in case he wasn't able to get a mask of Mitchell, in which case he said he would be in favor of canceling the whole thing. And it worked for you too, since it gave you time after practice to hang out with Steve and Jason up in the loft. They asked what you've been doing, and what Johansson has been doing. You replied that you've been doing homework and that Johansson has been out of the house with friends. They snorted that it was probably Ioeger and Lamont he was hanging with, but you demurred on speculating.

You're facing the door, both so you can see Huber when he comes in, and so he'll be forced to sit with his back to the doorway. That will render him blind to the attack.

Your only worry is about being witnessed by others. Fortunately, though there are people in the front room, you've got this back room to yourself.

Until Caleb comes in. He glances around while ignoring you, then disappears into a booth just inside the door. It surprises you a little that he doesn't acknowledge your presence, but you're not supposed to be seen together anyway.

But then someone else comes in, and you start a little, for you recognize him.

It's one of the Eastman basketball players, so of course you'd know him by face and reputation, even if you don't know him personally. You don't know much about him either, since he's new in town, but you've already heard he's pretty good. He's not alone, either, for he has one arm around a blonde girl who you recognize as one of Eastman's cheerleaders.

None of that interests you; what catches your eye is that he's got his other arm in a sling. Bad luck for Eastman, you reflect.

But you ignore him as he and the girl walk over to a booth on the other side of the room, and they ignore you. Still, it complicates things. You fidget worriedly with that metal stand and its moon card, and come real close to texting Caleb to call the thing off.

But Huber shows up before you can panic too hard. Like Caleb, he looks around the room with a puzzled expression, and seems not to notice you. He grimaces, and mutters to himself.

You wait impatiently for him to come over, and when it's ground on you enough, you raise your hand and beckon angrily at him. He jumps and does a double take at you. "Whoa," he says he slides into the seat opposite you. "How'd I miss you sitting here?"

"I don't know, Huber. You haven't been smoking any of that loco weed Carstairs likes to pass around, have you?"

His eyes narrow. "Let's just get this over with. What's this about?"

You have your cell out, and are about to pick it up to signal Caleb when it flashes a text: a text from Caleb, in fact. huber here where r u?

"Hang on," you mutter, and punch in a reply to the dumbass. sitting w huber. do it fast "Sorry, girlfriend stuff."

"What kind of coffee are you picking up for her?"

"I don't remember, I had to write down the name of the blend." You keep your eyes on Huber and try not to notice Caleb, whose face, like a waxing, thick-witted moon, has popped up over the partition behind the quarterback. His eyes bulge dumbly at you, and his mouth hangs open.

"Look, the deal is -- Uh, I'm thinking of cutting some of the guys from our roster. They're not working out, not working hard, and I'm gonna need replacements. Brooks only wants me to take guys who aren't working at any of the other programs, so if I tap the football squad -- "

Huber's lips have disappeared into a compressed line. Caleb vanishes behind the partition after having gaped stupidly at you for what feels like a solid minute.

"Look, I'll be really blunt, Huber. You got a lot of fuck ups on your squad, and the ones who aren't fuck ups are guys I don't personally care for. Like you. I don't want to tap the football squad, but if I do -- "

What the fuck is keeping Caleb? You buy a few seconds by looking over at the Eastman guy. But he's wrapped up with the girl -- already he's getting pretty handsy with her, despite his busted wing -- and might not even notice if you set Huber on fire.

"I'd only take someone that you didn't mind losing." You turn back to Huber with a shrug. "That you'd actually like to see gone." You tilt your chin defiantly at him.

He returns your gaze with a level one of his own. "So you'd only take my fuck ups."

"I could make 'em work."

"Could you?"

"Better than you could. Who's your worst?"

"Douglas."

"Dalton the Dumbass," you snort. "Okay, he wouldn't work, he's too short. Who else wouldn't you mind losing?"

Your play to get him talk proves unnecessary, for Caleb at that moment reappears over the partition and covers Huber's face with a mask. It vanishes into him, and his eyes roll back in their sockets. You catch him as he plunges forward, and gently lay his head on the table, facing the wall. You glance over at the Eastman player: He's still wrapped up in his girl. You let out a sigh of relief.

Caleb is staring down at you, and his position alarms you, for his perching over the booth is just the kind of thing to attract attention. You show him your cell, jab a finger at him, then point to him to sit down. After a moment of incomprehension, he nods and vanishes again.

get out i'll tak care of it, you text him. He replies with an ok, and a moment later has scampered out the door.

You lean forward and pretend to talk quietly to Huber. Actually, you do talk to him, calling him every nasty thing that Gordon could think to say to him. You drink the coffee that you ordered at the front. You check texts on your cell -- not that you've got any more.

And after an eternal amount of time has passed, a blue glow appears between Huber's face and the table. You gently lift his head, scoop up the mask and put it into your backpack.

Then, since it hardly matters whether Huber is angry with you or not, you leave him there to wake up on his own, and join Caleb outside.

* * * * *

"What time's the party start?" Caleb asks. You're back at his house, with him and Will. You've eaten, and you've just sealed up the masks, and are examining your handiwork.

"I'm supposed to be there by eight, but most people probably won't start showing up until nine or nine-thirty," you tell him.

"So what time should we crash it?"

"Ten thirty or eleven. What are you gonna do for clothes?" You can't lend them any, for Gordon's clothes are too long for Huber or Mitchell's frames, and their bodies are too bulky to squeeze into anything that Caleb Johansson or Will Prescott would have.

"We could hit the thrift shop after school tomorrow," Will says. "I can get a little money out of my folks for that, and you've got some left over from buying that shit for the spell, right? Oh, has anyone checked it recently?"

"I did, on the way back here," Caleb says.

"How are you getting money out of my dad," you ask Will.

"It's not hard," he says. "Just do what he says and don't do anything dumb. Jesus, Prescott." He crosses his arms. "After what I went through with my dad, yours is a pussycat."

He's got a point, but it makes you sulky to think of him getting along so well with your dad.

"We're not gonna have a lot of time after school to get into character," Caleb says. He's been a little moody ever since the ambush of Huber. "Maybe I should put on Mitchell's mask tonight, get into character, skip school."

"It doesn't take that long," you say.

"Screw you, it took me most of the night to get into Lynch!"

"You don't need to get into character, Caleb," says Will. "We're gonna go out there and fuck things up. We don't need their personalities for that."

"So why did we have to copy their heads?" Caleb demands.

Will shrugs. "Insurance." His expression turns shifty. "And in case we ever decide to, you know, do something more with them."

You and Caleb glance at each other. "A worse kind of prank?" you say.

"I dunno." Will paces the room in short steps. "You never do know, do you?"

Now you slightly regret coming up with this idea. But it's too late now.

He leaves a little after that, and you and Caleb hunker down with homework.

* * * * *

You can't check the new spell in the morning, because Chelsea texted to say she wants you to pick her up. She wants to talk about the final plans for the party, and gives you a to-do list of tasks for the afternoon. At the top of it is a food-and-snack run you're to make with her brother. "I don't need his help picking this stuff up," you tell her.

"No, I need your help getting him out of the house," she says. "Otherwise he'll just lay on the sofa and sext with his girlfriend."

And that's how you wind up in a car with Jordan Cooper right after school.

You -- Gordon, actually -- wouldn't mind Jordan so much for being a quasi-stoner with perpetual bed-head if it wasn't that he hung out with a crowd of lacrosse players when he was at Westside who were themselves tight with Huber's friends. But it's on account of those connections that he's able to pass along a casual warning.

"So, like, you guys better be ready for trouble," he tells you on the way to the store. "I heard that some of the guys at Westside are looking to crash the party."

Next: "The CounterPrank

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