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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Getting to Know All About You"  On the one hand there's good news: Genesis now has Blake's memories, so both of you will be able to bluff your way through your new lives without having to worry, and without having to consult with each other. On the other hand there's bad news: Genesis now has Blake's memories, which is going to make it very tricky when you try to act like him while "stuck" in her body. Like now. What would Blake say and do? when Genesis Lee bursts out crying? "Hey. Hey," you say as you scramble across the bed, unmindful of your nakedness, and of the way Genesis's boobs dangle and flop across your chest. "I'll tell you what I don't like," you improvise, "and that's seeing me crying like that!" You grab him in your arms, but he remains very stiff and stony. "Genesis." You shake him. "Genesis!" "You didn't even know my name before yesterday," he burbles. "I knew your name! Okay, maybe I didn't pay a lot of attention to you"—that seems a safe enough guess—"but I paid attention to you yesterday!" "You had to." He hangs his head. His shoulders slump. His lower lip quivers and his brow twists into a knot. In short, Genesis has lost Blake's mojo and fallen back into hers. "Listen!" You grip him by the shoulders. "I didn't have to pay attention to you! We didn't have to come here! We didn't have to—! Oh God. I am in so much trouble. Your mom is going to have an absolute conniption when I get home. Isn't she?" Blake nods. Then his expression twists up again. "See," he spits. "I'm so selfish! I should have taken you back to my place— I mean, to where I live— And then I should have gone back to your place! But I wanted— Oh, Christ!" He balls up a fist and punches himself in the side of the head. "No! Stop that!" You grab his arm. "That's what I'm trying to tell you! If I didn't want to hang out with you, I'd've told you to take me to your house! But I didn't! I wanted to hang out with you instead!" "No, you were just scared," Blake sniffs. "Like me." "Was I, Genesis?" You let go of him and step back to give him a hard glare. You have to lift your chin, because he's half a head taller than you. "Was I scared? You say you've got my memories. Do you know how to act like me? Would I have been scared?" You don't know the answer to that question. But you've got the impression that Blake isn't someone who would admit to being scared. "Didn't you tell me you were scared?" "If I did, it's only 'cos I wanted to make you feel better, because you were scared. And I don't think I told you I was scared. Do you think I was scared? Go on!" You jab him in the chest. "Think about it." His gaze goes distant, and he frowns. When he doesn't answer right away, you tell him, "While you figure it out, I'm going to take a shower. After that, I'm going to see if I can get Leah or Melanie or someone like that to cover for me with my parents." You half expect Blake to interrupt you in the shower, in order to keep you from having "fun," so you keep it short. But he's gone when you emerge from the bathroom, though he returns shortly after you've finished dressing. He's brought a bag of donuts. You're dying for one—you and Genesis both—but you maintain your self-control and composure until you finish tapping in the text that you were working on. "These are bad for you, you know?" you remind him even as you fish a maple glazed donut from the bag. "You have them all the time." "We both have them all the time. But I work out," you remind him as you stuff half the donut into your mouth. "You're not going to slack on that," you mumble with a full mouth. "You're going to keep my body in shape." He winces, but whether it's from the threat of exercise or the sight of her body stuffing itself with a donut you can't tell. "Fine," he says, "but you can't slack on band practice." "I'll do my best." You glance at the phone, which has chimed with a text. "Come on. My only chance of making it back to school alive tomorrow is if you drop me off at Leah's." * * * * * There are fireworks—there would have to be—when you finally get home with "your" parents, but things aren't as bad as they could have been. It was nearly nine o'clock when Blake dropped you off at Leah's. Her parents were probably shocked at your early morning arrival, but they said nothing about it and cheerfully invited you to breakfast. You demurred with many thanks, and followed Leah upstairs, where she badgered you with questions while you washed your hair in her sink. She wasn't happy with your noncommittal promises to "tell you later," and she buzzed with frantic curiosity while driving you—your hair still sopping—to the church that Genesis's family attends. Your mom gave you a cold, slit-eyed side-glare when you slip into the pew with her and your dad. So you wind up grounded for the rest of the weekend, the following week, and the weekend after that, though Mr. and Mrs. Lee affect to believe you when you say that you only slept over at Leah's after losing track of the time and not realizing you had missed curfew until it was nearly three in the morning. As to your not getting your parents' texts: You tell them that your phone died and that you were only able to give it a little juice this morning as you frantically washed up so you could meet them at church. As you settle back in Genesis's bedroom, you reflect that there's not a lot of difference between your parents and hers. The only big one is that it is Genesis's mom, not her dad, who hits the roof, and it is her dad, not her mom, who sits in the background and tries to stay out of his spouse's eyeline while she's yelling at you. But at least your grounding puts you someplace you can finally unwind after a frantic twenty-four hours of improvisation. You kick back on Genesis's bed, with her cell phone, and study her messages, which have begun to pour in from all over: from Leah (still antsy), from Brianna Kirschke, from Philippa Hosford and Hermione Gilbert, all asking if something is up with you. Even Jack Li texts to tell you that people are freaking out at your sudden silence, but that might be taken as a veiled warning from the pedisequos. But the last text in the queue is from Blake. Sydney wants to see us after school tomorrow, he says. How r u? Get in trouble? Grounded, you reply, but not dead. What about you? All good at ur house. Ur friends r busting my balls bc I wasnt at warehouse last nite. Three dots show for the longest time as he types a follow-up. But when it finally comes, though, it's very short and direct: They think I was with a girl. What should I tell them? A great constellation of butterflies explodes in your stomach, and this time your helpless, instinctual squeak is more like a yelp. We could tell them I'm his new girlfriend! Then, as you try to regain your composure, a separate channel opens, from Sydney. Hey can we talk? Phone. This time you growl, and the flock of butterflies transmutes into a froth of anger and resentment. But Fake-Sydney is right to text. You bottle up Genesis's distaste for Sydney, and tell Blake you'll have to think about the answer to his question for a bit. {i]brb, you sign off. "So how did the rest of yesterday go for you?" Sydney asks when she picks up. She sounds very amused. "It went," you snap. You pinch the bridge of your nose, and tell yourself to center. "Genesis got Blake's memories this morning." "Aw, too bad. I was looking forward to watching her galumph around in that body of his. What position does he play on the football team?" Wide receiver, you bitch. "Not sure," you reply aloud. "Oh well. So what did you guys do after you left me yesterday?" "Went our separate ways." "Oh, don't bullshit me, Will. I—" "I'm your boss, dammit! Don't forget!" Again, you have to struggle to regain your composure. There's a pause. Then: "If you're too embarrassed to tell me what you did, boss, I understand. But you should know that Jack called me a couple of times, said that no one was hearing from you, and that Genesis was usually quite the chatterbox. Also, boss," she adds, "he told me that Genesis has the cutest little crush on Blake. So you can see, boss, why I thought you might be hanging out together." "Well, we didn't. I just didn't feel like talking to Genesis's friends." "Or to me?" You don't like the lilt in her question. "I know you want to meet up with us tomorrow, but I can't. I'm grounded." "Oh. Crap. For how long? "Till a week from tomorrow." "Dang. That's going to put a crimp in our plans. Leaves you stuck with Genesis for the duration." "I guess so." Sydney doesn't reply right away. When she does there's a chill in her voice. "You know, it seems to me, boss," she says, "that if you were really eager to finish inducting Genesis into our Brotherhood, that you'd be a lot more upset about being grounded and be asking me for sympathy. I'm getting a vibe from you, though, that you're glad of the delay." Are you? Because although intellectually you are still committed to the scheme, your gut is telling you to back off. But is that your gut—your subconscious—or Genesis's? That's all for now. |
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