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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Copyist"  Justin Orr lives in largish house in the southwest part of town, not far from the river. At first glance, it looks like the set for a cozy, old-style family-TV sitcom: white, clapboard siding; square windows under a steeply pitched roof; white rails framing a small porch; and the whole thing set back from the street behind a narrow yard and sidewalk. But the neighborhood is cramped and shabby; the sidewalk is spiderwebbed with cracks; weeds infect the lawn; and the front of the house, on closer inspection, is faintly smeared with grime and mildew. Andy Jensen has beat you there, and he's the one who lets you in. But is it Andy? Your eyes narrow at the stiff and self-conscious way he introduces you all to a small, dark-haired woman as "friends of Justin's." You're not the only one with suspicions. "Jeez, dude," Joe mutters as maybe-Andy leads you all up a narrow staircase. "You think your mom cares who we are?" "She's not my mom," maybe-Andy retorts. "She's Justin's mom." "Bullshit," Grant laughs, and he grabs maybe-Andy from behind. "I'll hold the bastard down, one of you get the mask—" "Cut it out," Caleb snaps. "Let's just— Where are we going?" 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. Grant chortles at maybe-Andy. "Yeah you can fool your mom," he says as he struts on ahead. "But remember, we're pros." This is exactly the kind of horseplay that's got you worried about giving these guys advanced masks; and if you weren't more worried about Lindsay and her friends, you'd pick an identity that would let you keep a close watch on them. Justin's bedroom is small and narrow—more like a large walk-in closet than a proper bedroom—and the floor is layered with discarded shirts and trousers; a musty odor of unwashed clothes and unwashed bodies 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 high school boys who have bundled into it. There's a lot of muffled cursing as the sophomores tumble over each other and fight for space on the bed. Caleb props himself against the corner of the desk; you squeeze yourself onto the narrow window ledge. "Okay, so me and Will spent the day making up a bunch of masks," Caleb starts. But he stops and frowns as Grant shoves Joe, who in turn knocks maybe-Justin off the bed. "Hold it," you say. "Where's Bhodi?" "He's not coming," says Grant. He grabs maybe-Andy by the neck and forces him over. "He's not doing the thing with us," says maybe-Justin as he clambers back atop a yelping Joe. His crusted-over zits shine very whitely amidst his flushing acne. "Him are Paulina are, uh—" "Okay, I get it." You don't need a portrait of the newly emboldened Bhodi getting serious with Paulina. "But I guess you guys do wanna do the thing," Caleb says. "Unless you just wanna keep getting queer with each other," he loudly adds as maybe-Andy pounds Grant in the nuts. "No one's getting queer with—!" Grant blocks another blow from maybe-Andy. "Quit it!" "Christ," Caleb snorts at you. "Let's just give the masks to Lindsay. These guys are gonna fuck everything up." "We're not gonna fuck anything up!" Grant hollers, even as he grabs Joe by the head and tries sitting on him. But they all freeze in place, at your next words. "Just tell us who you want to be," you demand. "You thought about it, last night and today, didn't you, ho you want to turn yourselves into," you continue as they remain struck as still and silent as statues. "'Cos I don't wanna waste my—" "Okay, Will, that's enough," Caleb says. "Well?" he asks the sophomores. They hang their heads, and look very shifty, until maybe-Andy scratches his nose and raises his hand. "Yeah, I picked someone." "Grant did too," Joe interrupts. "Kaylee Mercier." "You wanted her too, man!" "Did not!" Caleb looses a shrill whistle. "I don't care who picked who," he brays at them. "I don't even know these people, so I don't give a shit. You." He points at maybe-Andy. "Is that your face or are you wearing a fucking mask?" Maybe-Andy looks at maybe-Justin, then shrugs. He puts a hand to his brow. "No, leave it on," Caleb orders. "Yeah, okay, you say you picked someone. Who?" "Ethan Clayborne," not-Andy murmurs. "Gay," Grant sniggers. "I'm kidding!" he cries when not-Andy slaps him on the head. "And who did you pick?" Caleb asks him. "Kaylee Mercier." Grant grins and fondles an imaginary set of boobs "Nothing gay about wanting tits." "She likes to suck cock," not-Justin says. "So that means you'll—" "Shut up," Caleb tells him. "What about you, er, Andy? Who do you—?" "Andrew Webb." Not-Justin darts a glance about the room from under lowered brows. "And you?" Caleb jerks his chin at Joe. "Alejandra Roldan Cortes." Grant giggles. "Only 'cos you like saying her name." "I'm gonna throw you out the window in a minute," Caleb warns him. "Like I said, I don't give a shit who you pick. But are you gonna be able to get close to these people, to copy and replace them?" A silence falls over the room. "Like how?" Grant finally asks. Can you believe these morons? Caleb asks you with his eyes. "Like, you're going to have to get them by themselves," you explain to the silent group. "You're going to have to get these guys alone, so it's just you and them. You have to get them alone, so you can put a mask onto them. And change clothes with them. And put their mask onto yourself, to turn yourself into them. That's what you're gonna have to do," you repeat into the deathly quiet. "You have to get them by themselves, so you can replace them." Like I did with Evie and Bhodi, you add silently. "So can you?" Caleb asks. In answer, four faces fall. "Oh, Jesus," he groans. "Okay, let's do it like this," you say. "Joe." You snap your fingers at him, and he sits up alertly. "You and me and Caleb are gonna go off and talk about this, just us." "Why him? Why alone?" Grant demands. "Because you all wind up acting like a bunch of dipshits when you're together. We'll talk to Joe about how maybe you can get to these people. The rest of you, stay here and talk about other people maybe you can be. People you can get to, if you can't get to these others. And for God's sake," you add as maybe-Justin falls off the bed again, "get out of those masks. This is serious business, not a lot of pranking." Not-Andy and not-Justin look properly abashed. But Grant giggles with shining eyes. * * * * * Justin's back yard slopes down to a narrow creek bed that's cloaked and muffled with bushes and drooping trees, so that's where you and Caleb and Joe settle down to talk. "Okay, first of all," you tell the sophomore, "who are these people that you guys picked, and why'd you pick them?" "Well, I picked Alejandra," Joe says with folded hands, "on account of Evie. She's on the soccer team with Evie. She's a junior, actually, which, um—" He sucks in his upper lip. "Which makes it hard to get to her." "Why is this on account of Evie?" "Because Alejandra kind of makes things hard for Evie? So I figured, you know, if I, uh—" His blushes. "Became her." He swallows. "Well, then I could make things easier for her." "Okay. That girl Grant picked, is she on the soccer team too?" He snorts. "No, she's just popular. Though I guess he could, uh, use her popularity to make Evie popular." As for Andy's and Justin's choices: Ethan Clayborne is on the wrestling squad, and Andrew Webb is on the boys' soccer team. You are able to place Webb's name after Joe tells you a little about him: He's the pink-skinned bully you got into a fight with on the day you impersonated Bhodi. Andy, you guess, picked him for the same reason Joe picked Alejandra: By becoming one of Bhodi's bete-noirs, he can maybe make Bhodi's life easier. Clayborne, meanwhile, is probably the best all-around athlete in the sophomore class, and the object of major crushes by all the girls, which is surely why Justin picked him. But none of the four will be easy to get to, for they move in different, and more exalted, social circles than the sophomores who intend to replace them. "Thing is," Joe insists, "if we could just get to one of them we could probably get close to the others." Caleb shakes his head at that, but you open up to Joe with your own thinking. "Maybe I can help," you tell him. "I'm gonna be doing my own impersonating. Someone close to Lindsay and the girls. I wanna keep an eye on them," you explain as Joe's eyes get very wide. "To protect you guys by making sure they don't figure out what you're up to. So. Can you think of someone who could do that? Someone who could watch Lindsay but also help you guys get at the people you want?" Joe hunches his shoulders. His voice is a croak when he finally speaks again. "Well," he says, "there's Lucy Gibbon. Paulina's, like, got a crush on her or something. And I think Lindsay's got a crush on Bradley White. He's one of Ethan's best friends, so that would help there. Uh, you're not thinking about, uh, turning yourself into—" He licks his lips. "Into Paulina, are you? Or Melanie?" His breathing becomes labored. "Though Melanie'd be perfect." Yes, Melanie Heath, who knows about you and the masks and what you did to Evie, would be perfect cover to spy on Lindsay from. Come to that, Lindsay herself would be perfect cover. * To pick Bradley White: "A Snow Job" * To pick Melanie Heath: "Spy Girl" * To pick Lindsay Cho: "When Second Thoughts Come Too Late" |
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