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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Magic on the Loose?"  "Well, maybe not," you tell Michael after a lengthy hesitation. "I don't know who those guys are, and after what I saw them do here today—" You glance around the still-wrecked kitchen, with its dishes and utensils hanging out of the cupboards, and its puddles of food and milk splashed across the floor. It's one thing to be standing in the middle of the wreck, and another to "remember" that the wreck was caused by a poltergeist while the two new basketball players coolly ignored the swirling mayhem. "I don't want to mess with them," you conclude, though you know it sounds lame. Michael studies your expression, then shrugs. "Okay, man, if you say so," he says. "I still kinda think—" But what he still kinda thinks is drowned out by a shriek from Kaylee, which she chases with a peal of hysterical laughter. "Anyway," you tell your friend, "I think these guys are going to be a handful by themselves." * * * * * It doesn't take long for most of the kids—and you can hardly keep from thinking of them as kids, so awkward and puppy-like are they as they clamber over each other to share photos they've found on their cell phones—to settle on some candidates. It's almost all selfies that they have found, taken and uploaded to social media sites by your peers in the senior class, to show off a dress or a haircut or a bared torso or a new look. You have to wonder what Kelsey Blankenship and Chelsea Cooper and Steve Patterson— And Adrian Semple and Lee Reynolds and Jordan Fry— And Emily Sparks and Ceres Kesey— And Christian Padilla and Dean Stratton and James Brewer; Lori Sherman and Ximena Calderon and Trenton Schatz; and ... and ... and ... — What any of them or all them would think if they knew that they were posting a kind of advertisement for their faces and bodies. An advertisement and an incitement to be hijacked, replaced, and impersonated. Some are snapped up pretty quickly. Grant, for instance, is gleefully covetous of Chelsea Cooper, and is only anxious that his other friends pick bodies that will complement her. Bhodi and Paulina are also pretty quick to choose: Marc Garner and his girlfriend, Hannah Westrick, which makes sense given that Bhodi knows Marc slightly through the soccer program and so doesn't have to guess about what he'd be getting with Marc's body and life. For much the same kind of reason, Justin inclines toward taking the body and identity of Laurent Delacroix, the captain of the wrestling team, though he insists he's not completely settled on it. But Andy and Joe, after composing some lists, declare that they will wait until their friends are moved and can offer better suggestions, before deciding themselves. As for Evie Cummings— Oh, but that's a complication that gets revealed later. * * * * * None of the sophomores ask you or Caleb who you might be switching with, and neither of you volunteers any names. Not until the party has broken up that the topic gets addressed. Paulina is squatting in the living room with her cell phone; Michael is in the bathroom; and you and Bhodi are standing in the kitchen. He glances around at the mess, but doesn't remark on it. Instead he thanks you (awkwardly) for letting him borrow a copy of your brain. "That was pretty awesome of you," he says without meeting your gaze. He rubs his forehead. "It— It made a difference between me and Paulina, I think." "Well, that's okay," you tell him. "Glad to help. But I don't really think it made that huge a difference." "No, it really did," he insists. "I don't think I could'a—" He licks his lips. "I wouldn'a had the, uh, confidence, you know, if I didn't—" He breaks off. "Like, you had the confidence to break the ice with her when you, uh—" "No, you're the one who gave me the confidence," you insist. "I couldn't have ever talked to Paulina or a girl like her, except that, you know, I was pretending to be, uh, you." You can't help reddening at the reference to the time you kidnapped Bhodi and pretended to be him with his friends. "Well, it worked out." Bhodi twists on his feet, and lurches, which is slightly scary because he's half a head taller than you. "Maybe," he continues, and his voice dies away almost to nothingness, "maybe, I can learn something from Marc, same I learned—" And then he does trail off. Which is just as well, because it was turning into a really embarrassing conversation. Fortunately, Paulina comes striding in just then. She slides an arm around Bhodi's waist and pulls herself to him. "What about you and your friend?" she asks you. Her tone is a lot stronger, than Bhodi's. "I didn't catch who you guys were going to be." "Not decided yet. We're gonna look around, I guess." "Well, can you keep in mind someone for Evie?" It takes you a moment—so shocking is the question—to figure out that "Evie" is Evie Cummings. "Evie?" you bleat. "What does she—? Is she going to—?" "Yeah, we need a face for her." She squeezes Bhodi. "That's not for everyone else to know, okay? Just us. Us and your friend Caleb, I guess." "What's the deal?" you stammer. The deal, as she explains it, isn't complicated, just a little weird. So Evie has also known what her friends have been getting up to, but has been very shy about jumping in. (Paulina doesn't say why she's so shy about it, and she doesn't speculate.) The only way she will join the fun, Paulina says, is if no one except Paulina (her best friend) and Bhodi (Paulina's S.O.) and you (as the guy running the project) know about it. "So," Paulina concludes, "you have to find her a place where she can sort of hang out with all of us, but mostly with Bhodi and me, without the other guys finding out or realizing it's her. Oh, and," she adds, "it has to be someone good. You know." Caleb has joined you by the point, and he gives you a long and skeptical look. But he doesn't say anything, not until after Bhodi and Paulina have left. Then he throws himself onto Dane's sofa and snorts at you. "The fuck is your problem?" you demand. "You," he retorts. "Why the fuck do things always have to be so goddamned complicated with you?" It's funny—in a creepy sort of way—to see and hear the gangly, gawky Michael Duncan cussing so casually. "What am I making complicated?" "Evie. Now we gotta find a spot for Evie, but we can't let anyone know about it. Jesus." "I'm not the one who made it complicated! Paulina did! Evie did! She's the one who—!" "You know the real reason she wants it that way, don't you? Why she doesn't want anyone to know?" "No. So why don't you fucking enlighten me? Dipshit." "Go look in the mirror, Dane," he says, accenting the name. "Where'd you get that fucking haircut? You look like you got mange, like you had lice and had to shave it all off." "Don't change the subject, we're—" "I'm not changing the subject. Where'd Dane get the haircut, and who was wearing the mask when he got it?" "You fucking know. It was Evie." Your face starts to burn. "When she got sent out to that academy." "Exactly, and who's the one that got her sent out there? That's how come it's complicated," he continues, without waiting for you to not answer his question. "That's how come she doesn't want the other guys to know she's playing too. Because she's embarrassed. She shouldn't want to play, she should hate these things—" He points to his face, then to yours. "'Cos of the way she got hustled into one and then got hustled out of town and had her whole fucking life turned upside down—" "Yeah yeah yeah!" Caleb smirks at you. "So she doesn't want to admit that she wants to play. She doesn't want to admit it's kind of cool. She doesn't want to admit that she'd kind of like to do to someone else what—" "Yeah, I get it, so shut up now. But how is it my fucking fault, cocksucker, that she's making it complicated?" "Because you're the one that got her into all that shit. It all goes back to you, Will. This whole fucking—" "Oh, fuck you." You throw your hands at him in disgust. "What makes you so smart?" "Natural brilliance, I guess." You fall into a chair opposite and glower at him. When he just smirks back, you shift to glowering at the wall behind him. You could point out that he was the one who started the mess by switching you and Gordon Black, but then he'd just find a way to shift the blame onto something you did farther back. Eventually he'd wind up blaming the world's woes on the fact that you were born. Sometimes he can be a real dick that way. "Well okay, whatever, so it's complicated," you finally snort at him. "Doesn't change that we gotta figure out a place for Evie." "You figure it out," he says. "I'm done with it." "What?" "You heard me. We're all going to be seniors now, which means I can do what I wanted to do almost from the start of this mess, and go back to being myself." "You're not gonna be someone else?" "I told you before, Will, I want to be done with it. I'm gonna do it tonight. I'm gonna go find 'Caleb Johansson'—" He crooks his fingers around the name. "And I'm gonna let Michael Duncan loose and be myself again." He scratches at his thigh. "It's gonna be sweet." But you're not listening. You need to get out of Dane's mask before those weirdos come back and start throwing things at him again, and you were going to switch back into Lindsay. But maybe it would be easier to pick up Michael's mask, if Caleb is going to discard it. Next: "Swapping Out Players" |
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