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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Role Reversals"  "Where are we meeting Tilley?" Caleb asks as he frowns into his locker. You almost suggest some other eating arrangements. But what? Gordon famously doesn't get along with Carson Ioeger and James Lamont, so eating with that group is out. And eating alone with him would expose you to Gordon's personality more directly. At least if Tilley were around, your fake friend would have to control himself so as to maintain his imposture. So when he turns on you with a hot, querying glance, you stammer out, "By the music wing, usually." He holds your eye, then with a grunt slams his locker shut. You run into Keith in A wing on your way out. You tense when he raises that same subject from second period: "So what did Gordon want with you?" "Who said he wanted something with me?" Caleb says, and doesn't even look at Keith. "Gordon did. He was hulking out in front of the gym, grabbed me by the neck as I tried getting past. 'Where's your friend Johansson?' he said." "And you ratted us out," you say. "I didn't say fuck to him," Keith protests. "I think I said 'Eep' and then I said 'I dunno', and then he said, 'When you see 'em tell 'em I'm looking for 'em'. I didn't even know he knew who we were. So what did he want with you?" "Nothing, we didn't see him," says Caleb. He slams open the door to A wing and leads your company over to the corner of the music wing. "Bullshit. I heard he hustled you out to the portables." "Don't believe everything you hear." Caleb drops to the grass and rips open his lunch bag. Keith stares at him and blinks. "Then I guess I shouldn't believe you. But come on, what's the big secret?" "The big secret is that if I don't want to tell you I won't tell you." Caleb opens his sandwich, sniffs at it, and tears a great hunk from it with his teeth. Keith gives you a look, then snorts. "Someone give you a fucking a testosterone booster, Johansson?" "A what?" Keith drums his chest like a gorilla. "Ung. Me tear guts out of lunch sack, eat like fucking jungle warrior." Caleb stops in mid-chew. "Keith," you say in a small, pained voice. Caleb swallows his mouthful while holding Keith's eye. "What, d'jou bring a knife and fucking fork with your lunch?" "Yeah, actually," says Keith as he opens his own bag. "Well, not a knife, but I'm not gonna eat lasagna with my fingers." "Lemme see that." Caleb s rips the Tupperware container out of Keith's hands. "Hey, give that back!" Tilley leaps at him, but Caleb shoots out an arm and with a cry Keith falls back to nurse his chest. "Fucker! That's my -- !" "I just wanna see it. You wanna cry about it? There's a girl's bathroom in A wing, you can do it in there." Caleb pries the lid off and pokes a finger into the lasagna. He scoops out a hunk with his index finger and pops it in his mouth. Keith gapes at you. You can only flash a terrified rictus back at him. "That's pretty good," Caleb says, and hands it back to Keith, who clutches it to his chest in an aggrieved fashion. "Who fixed it?" "I made it myself. I've told you I can make a mean lasagna." "It's good. Why don't you start bringing portions in, sell them? People'd probably buy 'em, it's better than the shit they sling in the cafeteria." "Fuck," Keith grumbles. "If I did that, I'd have Javits and the Molester and Gordon all after me, and they wouldn't be paying me for what I'm trying to sell." Caleb has ripped another bite from his sandwich, and he glares at Keith around the mouthful. "So?" he mumbles. "Anyone fucks with you over it, just bend 'em over and shove a hot pan of pain up their ass." You laugh despite yourself, snorting a wad of peanut butter up into your back nostril cavities. "Fah!" Keith cries. "You're talking like you fucking beat Gordon's ass instead of it being the other way around." "Who says I didn't beat his ass?" "I do!" Caleb gets up on his knees. "I know I can fucking tattoo yours." "I don't wanna fight you, Johansson, I just wanna know why you think I could fucking take on Javits or the Molester!" "I know why you can't, and it's because of your fucking attitude. Shit." Caleb grabs Keith by the bicep and shakes him. With a hot glare, Tilley pulls away. "If you at least had the right fucking attitude maybe you could convince 'em to give you some room and respect." "And what attitude would that be?" "Fuck 'em. That's the attitude." Caleb's face becomes very hard, and there's a hot light in his eye. "You can't beat their asses, but you can make 'em think second thoughts, and that's a fucking lot better than pissing yourself and running away. Goddamn it," he mutters. "Watching you go flapping away from the gym the morning -- " "So why don't you try it some time, Johansson," Keith yells. "Like on the Molester. You're always pissing yourself about him." "Yeah, I am," Caleb says, as though this is an epiphany. "Well, it stops today." "Bullshit," Keith sneers. "If it stops today, how about we go find him now." "Yeah, why don't we?" "Hey, hey!" you yell as the two are getting to their feet. (You finally snorted that snotball of peanut butter out, and gave yourself a choking fit when it hit the back of your throat.) "Don't go running off doing something stupid. Caleb, you can do that the next time you see him. And stop goading him, Tilley, it's like you want to see him hurt." "Maybe I do," Keith says darkly. "What I wanna know," you continue, turning back to Caleb, "is why you think this would work on Gordon. Go on, explain it to me," you continue as his face freezes. "Explain to me how you'd put so much pain on Gordon that he wouldn't just pick up his car and hit you with it." Caleb looks trapped, as you'd intended him to be, and glances between you and Keith. He licks his lips. Then he blurts out a name: "Kirkham." "David Kirkham?" "Yeah. You ever notice how Black and them leave Kirkham alone?" "I wouldn't mess with him," Keith says. "He is psychotic." "Fuckin' A. You know, Black could fold him up and hurt him if he had to," Caleb says confidently. "But he doesn't. You know why? Because Kirkham makes sure that he's more trouble than he's worth. He doesn't give Black and them any shit, but they don't give him any either." "How do you know this?" Keith jeers. "I can believe it," you say. "So that's what you're saying Keith needs to do. He needs to turn himself into a psychotic fuckhead like Kirkham, and then -- " "No. We want him to be as sweet and lovable as he is now." He grabs Keith by the neck and pulls him into a head lock. "It's just around Javits and shits like that he oughta turn himself into a fucking little maniac." He releases Keith, who is now very red in the face. "So why don't you go try that on Gordon?" you tell Caleb. "Right now. You were hot to go after the Molester, go after Gordon." But he waves you off. "Black doesn't give me shit, why should I give him shit? But if I see the other guy -- " He mimes popping someone in the face. Keith laughs. But that's all that gets said on that subject, until you bring it back up again after Keith has left early for his locker, and you and Caleb are heading back into the building. "Were you serious about all that shit you were saying earlier? About being more trouble than we're worth to guys like, uh, you? Or were you just setting us up for an epic amount of fail?" He makes a face at you. "I'm serious, Prescott. So you might get hurt, so fucking what?" "So we should try that?" He stops, and gives you a once over, up and down. "Well, maybe not right away." He grabs your bicep, the way he grabbed Tilley's. "No reason to start anything. Why don't you put some muscle on? School's got a fucking weight deck, you know." "It's also got some serious psychos who hang out on it," you reply. "Like Kirkham and the Molester and Lynch -- " Your throat freezes as soon as you say that last name, for that's one of Gordon's best friends. But he actually nods. "Yeah, alright. But there's gyms in town. Why not join one of them?" "I don't know how to use them. Like, how to use the machines." "Christ, you're just looking for excuses. They're not hard, it's not like that fucking Calculus class I had to sit through this morning. They got staff to explain it to you. Or just find someone who knows the shit and get them to show it to you. Here at school, even, then go to the gym." It still doesn't sound like your style, but you make a noise in your throat that might pass for agreement. "It's so fucking simple," Caleb continues. "If you don't understand something, ask for help. Like right now, I need your help with something, so I'm going to ask." "Oh?" You stop in your tracks. "What's that?" "Who the fuck is this 'Molester' I'm supposed to be shitting myself over?" * * * * * On that question you enlighten him -- it's Lester "The Molester" Pozniak, soccer goalie and bully -- and part for the rest of the day. He's given you some food for thought. Gordon's theory of bully management -- make yourself too ugly to hassle -- sounds plausible, and by admitting that he finds Kirkham too ugly to handle he's almost got you believing it. But it also sounds hard. And he's also admitted that you'll get hurt before the trick starts to take effect. So you are pretty sure you won't be using it. But it's in the back of your head. Next: "The Place Where the Monster Lives" |
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