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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Memories from Another Me"  It is still dusk, but the porch light over the Garners' front door is already on. You lean against the door frame and nurse the stitch in your side. It wasn't a long jog from where you left the car in Potsdam Park, but it took the wind out of you. It's Marc who answers the door, and his eyes pop when he sees you. "Hey man," he says. "I thought you were grounded!" "I got someone to cover for me. I came out for a jog by the river. Fuck me, but I'm outta shape. Hanging out with you guys is, like, embarrassing." Marc laughs, but it doesn't sound mean. "Is Eva around?" you ask. "I stopped by to talk to her. If that's okay with you." "Fine with me. Eva!" he screams back into house. "Hey! Eva!" "Go find your sister like a civilized person!" a woman shouts back. Marc grins, winks at you, and takes his phone out with a flourish. He punches in some numbers. When Eva's voice sounds out of the phone, he yells, "Hey Eva, Guy here to see ya on the front porch!" Not two seconds later, a red-faced Eva stomps into the foyer. She swings at Marc, but he jumps past you and gallops off around the corner of the house, laughing. Eva catches herself when she sees you. Her tone, though subdued, is friendly. "Hi Will." "Hey. I just wanted to come by and, like, apologize for the way I kind of blew up this morning, in the library. About Jeremy." Eva's eyes narrow. "It wasn't any of my business, and I'm sorry I came on real strong like that." "It's alright," she says, gruffly. "No it isn't. I was a jerk. I'm sorry." "Alright," she says again. For a long moment no one speaks. Then you say, "You really like him, don't you?" She rolls her eyes. "I thought you said it wasn't any of your business." "It isn't. I just want to tell you that he was a nice guy back when we were friends. Fun, silly, great to hang out with." You pause. "I miss him." A look of embarrassment crawls over Eva's face. "Well, there's no reason you can't be friends with him still, is there?" "Well, except tjat he's friends with Seth Javits. You know Javits." Javits is a strutting, boastful cock who thinks nothing of pantsing people in the middle of the hallways, and does worse things when he gets his victims alone. "And my friend Keith is one of Javits's chew toys. So So how'm I supposed to be friends with Jeremy when he's best friends with the guy that once sent Keith to class wearing his own underwear on his head, like a hat?" Eva flinches. "Seth did that to Keith?" "End of school last year. But Seth's always doing things like that." "But Jeremy doesn't do stuff like that, right?" "I didn't say he did. But I sometimes think Jeremy is friends with Seth because he wants to be the kind of guy who could do stuff like that." Eva looks sour. "I don't think so." "Well, I'm sure he's not that way with you. With you he's probably great, same as he used to be great with me and Keith. And I just— Okay, I'm ranting again," you interrupt yourself. "I'm sorry. I came by here to apologize for ragging on Richards, and now I'm doing it again." "It's okay, Will," Eva says, but she sounds like she doesn't really mean it. "But I do have a hard time thinking of Jeremy without thinking of Seth. Or Ryan Shuler or Dylan Lloyd, or any of those guys like that. You wouldn't date one of them, would you? I mean, would you?" Eva reacts with a pinched look. "I don't picture you going out with guys like that. You're really sweet, really nice. What would you want to hang out with jagoffs like them for? I bet why you like Jeremy is because he's still the nice guy I knew when he was hanging out with me. Right?" "Maybe," Eva says. She is starting to look distracted. "He's kind of puppyish." "'Cept he doesn't wanna be a puppy, he wants to be a junkyard dog like his bros. I think. Look, all I'm saying is, if you wanna date someone like Jeremy, you wanna be sure you're not dating someone who's trying to turn himself into the opposite. That's all I'm saying." Eva draws in a deep breath, and exhales. "Well, it's sweet of you to be concerned about me, Will." "But I should leave to you to figure out who and what you want. I get that too." Eva returns you a wry smile. "It seems like I've had a lot of people trying to give me dating advice recently." "Well, that's only 'cos there's a lot of people who want to look out for you. Remember that, okay? And don't yell at them just 'cos they're looking out for you." She smiles again, and thanks you again. You wish her a good night, and jog backward off the porch, watching her until she's gone inside and shut the door. Then you hobble away, impaled as you are on your own erection. You return to Potsdam Park, where you change clothes and pull something off your face ... * * * * * Jesus! What was Chris Ratliff thinking last night when he paid Eva that visit? Not that you're mad at him for doing it. It's not like he fucked anything up for you. If anything, he probably made things better between you and Eva. But what you can't figure out is why. Why would he do something like that for you? Sure, you had some fun yesterday as you danced and pranced with him at his place in a couple of masks. But it's not like Ratliff has shown you even a quarter of the attention or regard that Laurent has shown you. So why would he do you a major solid like he did last night? Wait. You frown. Was it Chris who put on your mask and went out to see Eva? It does seem more like something Laurent would do. Maybe it was Laurent in your gear— No, now that you "remember" emerging in Potsdam Park, it wasn't from Laurent's truck. It was a car. But you can't remember it clearly, because your doppelganger didn't pay any attention to it. You blink. And now that you think about it, you can't remember anything of what your doppelganger was thinking or feeling. You vividly remember doing and saying certain things. But there's not a trace of emotion—of embarrassment, anxiety, hope, relief, or any of the other emotions that you or he would surely have felt—to go with the actions you remember. It was like watching a movie, only from inside one of the characters instead of from the outside. * * * * * As is becoming his habit, Laurent intercepts you in the parking lot after school. "It's Friday, man," he says. "Halfway through your grounding." His smile broadens into a leer. "You thinkin' about goin' out tonight? Getting someone to cover for you at home?" You give him a long and thoughtful look before answering. But though the shadow of a furrow appears in his brow, he doesn't flinch from your scrutiny. "What's the plan for tonight?" you ask. "What are people doing?" "That's up in the air." "Because they'd have to cover for me starting now. I gotta get home." "What if we could get you out of your house tonight, long enough for the switch?" "You couldn't do that. My dad—" "Can't you go in your own back yard?" You blink. "Well, sure. But—" "If you can go in your own back yard," he says, "we can get you out. There's an freaking alleyway right next to your place. You can get your skinny ass over a six-foot fence, can't you?" "Yeah! But how do you—? Have you been spying on my—?" He claps you on the shoulder, so hard he knocks you into the side of your truck. "We don't spy on nobody," he says with a grin. "We map the ground. Fuck, man, we got your house and yard mapped out to the inch. An' Brownie's got camo gear and night-vision goggles. We could get you, half the cheerleader squad, and a couple of alpacas in and out of your house after midnight if we wanted. And if, you know—" He slaps you in the stomach, hard enough to make to you gasp. "If alpacas are your thang, man." He guffaws. Well, that puts a different complexion on things. You tell him you'll have to think about it, and would want to know the plan before you decide. Then, when he says he'll text you, you remind him that your cell and internet will be turned off. "Can't you get to anything online?" he asks. You tell him you can maybe sneak onto your dad's computer. "Then here's what to look for," he tells you. From his pack he takes a notebook and mechanical pencil, and on a torn sheet of paper, in neat, tiny block letters, he gives you a code. "That's Ximena's x2z feed," he tells you. "You know. Our version of Maria. She's already got two hundred subscribers. We'll announce tonight's plans through there. We'll be at your place by nine, in the alley to make the switch, if you're going. Now let's have your gear." "My gear?" "Sure." He pulls your pack from you, and rummages through it without waiting for permission. "That's how we'll get you in and out inside twenty seconds. One of us'll be in your gear, ready to go over the wall to take your place when you come out." You slap your forehead. It's so easy when he describes it! * * * * * 8:47. According to Ximena's feed, she and some friends will be at a midnight showing of Cravemoor, a just-released horror movie. Next: "The Saturday Shopping Market" |
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