%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Things a Girl Will Do For You"  You don't like the way Justin Roth is glowering at you. Even if technically this fake version has to obey you, he doesn't look like he's going to be happy about it. What use could he be as a "friend" if he acts so hostile? But Jessica jumps in before you can speak up. "Well, he can't just switch out with him now," she tells Eva. To you, she says, "It takes a couple of hours to get the memories after you put on a mask. Actually, it's best to sleep inside it, for like a whole night, right after putting it on. You don't want to go home or hang out with Justin's friends and not know how to be him, do you?" "Uh, no." You glance again, uneasily, at Justin. "So, what do I do?" "Well, when we switched out, we asked the betas what time they had to be home, and arranged for them to meet us just before then. That way we could switch out, then go straight to bed once we got back home. Of course," she adds, "it doesn't matter if you're just going to leave him as a sidekick." At the very least you can put the question to Justin. "What time do you have to be home? What's your curfew?" "Don't got one," he grumbles. "And the fuck you wanna know for?" He looks anxiously between you and the girls. "You can stay out all night?" "Isn't that what I said? Jessica jumps in again. "Have him meet you around about time for your curfew," she suggests. "Where?" "Jesus, Will, I don't know. You pick." There's an old elementary school not far from your house. "You know where the Acheson Elementary School is?" you ask the beta. You give it directions when it shrugs mulishly. "Meet me out there around, uh, ten-thirty." "Wish I knew what the fuck this was all about," it mumbles, and a little fear shows in its eyes. "Better tell him not to talk about any of this stuff with anyone," Jessica says. "Is there anything else?" you ask, a little peevishly. She offers some more suggestions for what beta-Justin should and shouldn't do, which you pass along to it. It's looking as harassed as you feel by the time you tell it that it can go. "Go where?" it demands. "We have to take it back up to the school," Jessica says. She tugs at its elbow; you order it to go with her when it plants its feet and tugs back. Eva has watched all this with a pinched expression. As Eva and beta-Justin get into the minivan, she gives you a look. "Just don't get any ideas," she warns, "from what I had to do to keep him occupied until you got here." * * * * * Eva's warning keys your nerves up to a high pitch of anxiety and anticipation all evening. Just how far did she go with Justin while they were together? What are you going to "remember" once you've got his memories? And what's it going to be like to "remember" Mike Hollister (disguised as Eva) going down on you? Before you can find out, you meet up with Maria Vasquez—Philip Fairfax—so she can give you a mask. You're too diplomatic to say anything about the name inside of it—WILLIAM MARTIN PRESCOTT—or to ask the circumstances that behind their making it, and Philip volunteers nothing. He only tells you that the mask is all ready to use, and goes over with you the techniques for putting masks on and for taking them off. Later that night, as your dad is putting out the lights, you come downstairs in a t-shirt and shorts. "I'm gonna go ride my bike around the neighborhood for a bit," you announce. "It's almost ten-thirty," he points out. "I got too much nervous energy to sleep." He stares at you, then turns the lamp back on. "Don't make it too long." "You don't have to wait up for me." "If you're just going to be right back," he retorts, "it won't be a problem to wait up, will it?" He regards you levelly. You twist on your feet, then surrender. "Never mind," you mumble, and return upstairs to your room. For twenty minutes you wait—writhing in frustration—for the lights to go out in the hallway, and then for the sound of your parents' bedroom door closing. You've got your window up, and as soon as you're sure the house is shut down, you swing yourself out and shimmy down the ivy-covered trellis just outside. It's hard going—you've got the mask in one hand as you descend—and you prick yourself in a couple of places. But once on the ground you waste no time in sprinting off to the school. You're puffing hard and nursing a stitch in your side as you gallop up to the dark sedan parked near the cafeteria. You tap at the window, and gulp cold draughts of night air as the window comes down. "Hey," Justin's voice rumbles from the dark of the car. "I was starting to hope you weren't gonna show." "Well, I'm here now," you gasp. "Um ... Let's do it in the backseat." "Christ. So who's going down on who?" he mutters bleakly as he gets out. "What? Fuck, no! Um—" You feel yourself flushing hotly all over. "We're just going to—! Well, first thing is we're just going to talk!" Justin grunts. "So what are we gonna talk about?" he asks after you're in the darkened back seat of his car. "Well, first of all, you gotta tell me where you live. And who you live with. Like, about your family. And—" You flinch as you remember the near-encounter with your own dad. "And if anyone is going to be up and awake when you get home." "The fuck?" But he obliges, and you question him closely until you've got a feel for the location and layout of his house, and the character and habits of the inhabitants, even though the beta is pretty sure that he wouldn't run into anyone if he went home. "They're not even expecting me," he says. "I told 'em I was pro'ly gonna crash with Shep Tsosie." You question him about a few more things—his classes and his friends—less because you think you need to learn about them (if Carlos is right, you'll have Justin's memories when you wake up tomorrow) than to put off the moment when you have to tell him to take off his clothes. He grumbles in the back of his throat when you do, and he hisses angrily when (still clothed) you straddle him and grope for his face in the dark. You poke him in the eye and cheek with your thumb, and you're too nervous to tell him to be still as he squirms beneath you. You make half a dozen tries at his face before you feel something heavy and solid coming away when you pull your hand from his face, and you almost drop it when you have a frightening image—It's the bony front of Justin's skull!—pops into your head. With trembling hands you lay it aside and fumble for the other mask. Justin's head is lolling, but he doesn't wake as you push him upright and press the mask onto him. The hard surface of the mask turns into pliant flesh beneath your fingers. Someone swallows in the dark, and a voice faintly says, "Ngh?" "Who's there?" you whisper. A pained moment passes before a voice whimpers back, "You talking to me?" "Yes!" Another whimper: "Will Prescott." You relax. Then you remember where you are, and hurl yourself off and to the side. "Gmph!" he says. "The fuck?" "It's me, your boss! The real Will Prescott! You still there?" you ask when he says nothing. "Where the fuck else would I be?" he retorts in a high whinny. "And what do you mean you're the—?" He chokes. "The real Will Prescott." Too late you realize that you skipped a step: Fairfax told you to put the mask on yourself first, so that it would have all your most recent memories. You didn't, which means that the "Will Prescott" sitting nakedly next you probably doesn't. "What's today's date?" you ask him. "Um ... Beats the fuck outta me. Like, the thirtieth?" Damn, the thing is nearly two weeks out of date. "Just shut up," you tell it when it starts babbling again. "Look, you need to put these things on," you continue as you start yanking off your clothes. "You need to go home, and you need to go up through the bedroom window, not the front door. You need to go home, and you need to be me." "How do I do that?" You think a moment. The answer is so obvious it takes forever to come up with it. "By just being yourself," you explain. "I'll catch up to you at school tomorrow and explain stuff to you then." "Alright," he grumbles. "But are people going to be okay if there's—? Did you say that you're, uh, me?" "Yeah, but I won't be looking like me next time you see me. I'll be looking like Justin Roth." "I am so lost." "Just go home, go to bed, go to school tomorrow," you snap. "You'll do fine." With a lot of sighing and groaning, your alter ego dresses and clambers out of the car. You're feeling for Justin's mask when he opens the door again. "Where am I?" he asks. "The old elementary school! Now go away!" He scampers off into the dark. But even after he's gone, you finger Justin's mask nervously for a very long time before gingerly putting it to your face. * * * * * The windows are smeared with grayish light when you next raise up and look around. The fuck? you think as you dig the heel of your hand into your eye. Where did I pass out this time? Then you look down and notice that you're naked. Two faces flash before your mind's eye. One is Eva Garner. The other is a skinny kid with rabbity eyes whose name is Will Something-or-Other. You don't feel very pleased with either of them. Next: "Ambushed by the New You" |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
