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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Office Hours"  by Masktrix Detention at Westside isn’t something you’ve thought about for a long time. Seniors are expected to be mature enough to handle their academic responsibilities and the same applies for juniors. As such, it’s usually only younger pupils who ever end up in one of the dreariest classrooms in B wing, staring vacantly at their desk. Carmen Acuna hasn’t given a detention in two years, preferring to use the tried and tested coach’s revenge of taking a lap. You hum as you walk down the corridor, very much at home in your new body, tennis bag in hand, a mask destined for Kelsey Blankenship jumbled inside among the balls, racquets, towels and energy drinks. Tennis is, much like volleyball, an oddity at Westside: less a sports program and more something students – usually the rich kids who grew up at the country club – can play. Carmen considers herself a full-time P.E. teacher, far more invested in the development of her students than managing a program so all-consuming as football or soccer. “Mr Carr,” you say, stepping inside to where your colleague is busy marking papers and monitoring his five charges: two sophomore stoners; known troublemaker Scott Winkler; a highly embarrassed freshman called Erin Richardson (you have no idea what she did, but your Acuna heart breaks a little that such an apparent angel is in trouble); and your target. “Coach Acuna. What brings us the pleasure of your company?” “I’m looking for a volunteer,” you say. “We have a cup match on Wednesday. I’ll need someone to replace all of the court nets and scrape gum off the bleachers.” The nets don’t need replacing and you doubt there will be a crowd, but it’s a reasonable request. “By all means,” Carr says, happy to bring indentured servitude back to this corner of America. Erin Richardson’s hand immediately shoots up, practically straining to be picked, but instead you point to the kid at the back of the room. “Ian Cowdray. Vamanos.” He’s a scrawny, dozy boy, light hair cut short, and he ambles out with you pretty quickly. You give a nod to Carr, exchange pleasantries, and get the hell out. Ian, for his part, is smart enough not to speak until you’re alone, halfway down the corridor. “Shelly?” he asks. Of course, he thinks you’re her. “Coach Acuna,” you correct. “At least while I’m looking like this.” “You’re not actually gonna make me do any of that are you? Scrape gum?” In a split second, you figure you might as well lean in on Ian’s beliefs, and begin to speak as quickly as your new tongue will allow. “What? No freakin’ way. This is just a disguise to bust you out. Awesome, right? And now I know how to take it off, I can totally cosplay as her whenever I need to.” “This is so weird.” “So freakin’ weird,” you concur. “And so, so cool.” “I still mean what I said earlier, though. I don’t want no part of whatever this is. I don’t want to dress up as a woman or anything.” “You’re so non-committal, Ian.” You wonder how you’re doing at playing Shelly Nolan play Coach Acuna. You soon find out. “Maybe, maybe not. And Shelly, I meant the other thing, too. About that senior kid. We don’t know him. Rich says he’s just kind of average, that nobody knows him. If we need muscle, we can trust my cousin Rich. He’ll handle that guy. You say the word, I’ll tell Rich everything and it won’t matter who Prescott looks like.” You let the words sink in as Ian heads for the main entrance and you head for the courts. *** You’re still mulling over Ian’s words when you arrive, the floodlights illuminating the DecoTurf of Westside’s medium-fast, hard court surface. That’s as expected. The surprise is the duo waiting for you. There, dressed in tennis whites, racquets in hand, are Brooke Galloway and Lynette Kolaya, the other two members of your tennis trio. They give you a wave as you walk on, setting the bag down at the side of the court. “Hey coach,” Brooke greets you. “Want us to get warmed up?” You have no idea what they’re talking about. You search Carmen Acuna’s mind but everything tells you the entire afternoon is free. Right now you – or rather she – should be enjoying a quiet glass of wine. You’re still trying to come up with something to say, all while holding Carmen’s smile on your lips, when there’s a noise from the edge of the court. “Hey, coach. What’s going on?” Kelsey Blankenship has arrived, dressed impeccably in her own tennis attire, rolling a top-of-the-line tennis racquet in her grip. “Nothing to do with you,” Lynette blurts. Brooke, being a little more diplomatic, keeps up the frenemy smile. “Hello, Kelsey. We asked coach if we could have the court tonight. We’ve been thinking about the doubles pairing.” “I wasn’t aware there was a problem with the pairing,” Kelsey says. “And I spoke to the coach on Friday to rearrange my one-on-one. Right, coach?” “Working on court position?” Lynette interrupts. “Whatever the coach thinks I need to improve. It’s part of the pressure of being the captain.” “I’d focus on your returns.” Che! Carmen Acuna’s mind is already sick of whatever hornet’s nest you’ve kicked up and the thinly coded jabs the three girls are shooting at each other. You’re more focused on why you didn’t know about the session… of course. The girls must have asked the real Acuna for the court this morning, after you’d used the band on her. The new information wasn’t stored. Why the hell did you follow Shelly’s half-baked plan? “Ladies!” You raise your voice only slightly, but all three fall silent. Kelsey, for her part, is almost obsequious when she addresses you. “Coach, I appreciate the other girls are a little behind, but I was really hoping we could work on some aspects of my game one-on-one.” “And we need to talk about the doubles.” “Ladies!” you snap again, this time with more force. “It’s just a little misunderstanding. Kelsey, you’ll get plenty of time with me. We’ll work drills for the first half of the session, then play a half-set of doubles with Brooke and Lynette, at which point I’ll make my decision about the line-up for Wednesday.” This, Carmen’s mind decides, is the most amenable-sounding solution, although in truth you’d already decided Kelsey would be dropped from the doubles match. While you know Kelsey will view it as a slight, Carmen believes that Westside will outclass the opposition in this round and would be shocked if Kelsey and Brooke don’t win their singles rubbers by a landslide. The star player might as well be rested. It’s while you’re informing your players of the plan that you’re interrupted by a shout from behind the annex. Ian Cowdray barrels around the corner, panting from where he’s sprinted the length of the school. “Coach Acuna!” He hollers. You step to face him and stay in character. “Ian, can this wait?” you ask, letting your calm voice carry. “NO,” he yells back, pointing wildly. “COACH. ACUNA.” It’s then you remember just who Brooke and Lynette were waiting for – and who must be seconds from coming around the corner... Next: "Baseline Rally" |
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