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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1067086-Forage-and-Storage
by Seuzz
Rated: GC · Book · Occult · #2193834
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises.
#1067086 added March 28, 2024 at 12:54pm
Restrictions: None
Forage and Storage
Previously: "Face-Time with a Cheerleader

Chelsea continues on to the condiment station, then returns to her table without so much as glancing at you. Your hand is trembling as you carry your coffee back to where Caleb is waiting.

"Let's get out of here," you mutter at him.

He rears back. "What?"

"Let's just go. You're right, it's just gonna be Rennerhoff and them who show up."

"We just fucking got here!"

"Keep your voice down, okay? I just— I suddenly don't wanna be here."

"Will, we—"

"I'll get our coffees to go," you say, and rise to take the mugs back up to the front.

Caleb is frosty to you all the way out to the parking lot, and doesn't even thank you for paying for his drink.

* * * * *

You're a bundle of nerves the next day at school. Clover Mystery texted you last night, shortly after you got home, to complain about being stood up at The Flying Saucer. I wanted to talk to u! they complain. You replied that something came up, then shut off your phone.

What was it that so bothered you about Chelsea? It's hard to put your finger on, and you almost regret having run out of the place without talking to her.

But only "almost." It's not only that your nerves turn to water in the presence of the head cheerleader. It's knowing her reputation. Chelsea can be a nasty piece of work (as the previous night, when you went up to talk to her, proves), and there are stories of her sicking her psycho boyfriend on people. After the fool you made of yourself in front of her and Maria the other night, you wouldn't put it past her to do something like that to you.

Still, you're more than a little sick at heart for having run out. That's what happens when cowardice trumps curiosity.

It's no surprise that Caleb is still disgusted with you the next day, and Keith doesn't know what to say to you, so you are lonely and miserable as you trudge out to the parking lot after school. Up in your bedroom, you fling yourself onto your bed and cover your face with the pillow, on the off chance that you'll accidentally suffocate yourself. When your phone chimes, you groan and try to ignore it.

But that decision crumbles: you are so feeling so down that even a text from Clover Mystery might cheer you up. You force yourself to get your phone from your bag.

You perk up a little, though, when you see it's a DM, coming through x2z, from Jack. Is he talking to you again? Apparently. It's a very short DM, asking if you remember seeing him at the coffeeshop yesterday with Chelsea. You reply in the affirmative.

So glad, he replies. Can u meet me at eastman asap? Want to talk to u.

You feel a small stab of spite: Oh, now that he needs me, he wants to talk to me! But you tell him you're on your way. As you head to the truck, you tell your mom that you probably won't be home for supper, as a friend wants to see you. You say this more out of hope than real expectation, and the price you pay is a look of deep exasperation.

* * * * *

Jack had DMed a follow-up, explaining that he is meeting Elle and Laura at the drama department storage facility behind Eastman, and that after he helps them there he wants to take you out someplace to talk. So after parking in the teacher's lot, you make the long hike back around to the annex. Idly, you wonder if that book you bought and lost—which you and the others had searched for in this annex—ever turned up. Maybe you can ask Laura and Elle about it.

Neither of them is there, though, when you arrive. Instead, the lone figure waiting in front of the blue sliding door is Chris Love.

Chris is a soccer player at Westside, and you only know him vaguely from having shared a couple of a classes with him over the years. He is a good-looking guy with a strong, suntanned frame who dresses sloppily in loose shorts, tank tops, and sneakers, and he usually keeps his fine blonde hair tied down under a floppy bandana. He's relaxing now against the side of the annex, bending over his phone as you approach, and he doesn't look up until you are almost on top of him. There's a look of recognition—and a little surprise—on his face when he glances up, but he only says, "Oh! Hey!"

"Are Elle or Laura here?" you ask.

"No, not yet," he says. "You come out to help too?"

"I'm supposed to meet Jack Li here. He said he was meeting them here."

"Jesus! How big is the thing we have to move?"

"What are you here for?"

"We're supposed to get something out of storage." He glances past you. "Maybe Leah knows."

You turn. Leah Simmons, looking very crisp in blue jeans, a flannel shirt, and suspenders, is approaching. A light dances in her eyes.

"Chris!" she exclaims. "Look at you!" She walks right up to him and puts an arm around his waist, pulling herself close. He just as casually puts his arm around her waist, and puts his face almost into hers. "It's October," Leah says, "what are you dressed for like it's still August?"

"Summer's not over till I say it's over," he replies. "I like your shirt," he adds as he rubs her back with his palm. "So soft."

Her glance is filled with an appreciative gleam as she nestles in the crook of his arm. But then she pulls away and turns to you. "Hey Will, didn't expect to see you out here."

I bet you didn't, you think. "I'm supposed to meet Jack here."

"Really? We having a party?" She glances around. "Laura texted me about meeting up here. She wanted to do something afterward." She turns back to Chris. "You free after we're done here?"

"Sure."

You shift on your feet and grind your teeth. Though Leah is being polite, you're pretty sure Elle and Laura won't be. They won't want you along, and will probably cold shoulder you the whole time if you tag along.

"Well, what are we standing here for?" Leah asks.

"We're supposed to get something out of the storeroom," Chris says.

"You got a key?"

"Well, yeah."

"So open her up. Let's get started.

"I don't know what we're getting."

"Well I'm bored. And I've never been out here before. I wanna snoop."

So with a shrug, Chris fishes some keys from his shorts pocket, bends to unlock the annex, and lifts the rattling door.

It's musty inside—the smell of dust brings back a brief but vivid memory of your earlier search of the annex—and the three of you shuffle in. Sofas, wingback chairs, free-standing cabinets, and lots of other furniture and home furnishings occupy a good part of the space, only some of them covered in sheets. But most of the space is taken up with big wooden crates. It's these that occupy most of your attention, for you're thinking again of that book, and you lift and lower creaking lids as you glance inside them. But they seem to be filled only with dishes and picture frames and other bric-a-brac.

"I wish we went to Eastman," you hear Leah say from the other side of the annex as you are searching. "Then if we had a key would could hang out here after school. Some of these sofas are really comfortable." Chris says something in reply, and she says, "Sit down and try it out if you don't believe me."

They're so comfortable with each other, you think. I was comfortable with them, for a little while. And then all this shit happened.

"What are you looking for?"

Leah's voice, sounding so close by, makes you jump. "Sorry," she says.

"Oh, I'm just— Snooping."

Her eyes glint. "Yeah! Hey, what's back there?"

She points over your shoulder, and you turn. There's a couple of very tall and very skinny crates, rising from the floor to the ceiling, that cut off the back of the annex. For some reason, the word flats comes to you, for you remember seeing them on your first visit, and asking about them.

You're just turning back to Leah when you catch a flurry of motion from the corner of your eye. You have the impression of her grinning at you, and then something touches the side of your head. As though struck by a bolt of black lightening, you fall off your feet, and the world goes dark.

* * * * *

The back of your head is throbbing when next you know anything, and you gasp and pant with pain. Slowly you push yourself up off a sheet-shrouded sofa. Gingerly you touch the back of your head.

But the pain quickly fades, and after you straighten up and get to your feet, it is only a shadow, which flees as you roll your neck and shoulders. You blink and look around.

Oh yeah, the annex. What was I supposed to help move?

A memory comes back of picking your way over and through shrouded couches and cabinets, trying to figure out which pieces Hartlein wants moved back to the theater for the production. You were here with Leah and that guy—

Will Prescott. The name is like a dagger to the brain, and that headache flares briefly to life again.

Then Leah was saying something about how much fun it would be if you all went to Eastman so you could sneak into this storage bay and hang out. She pulled you into an embrace and then something was touching the back of your head ...

Another black wave rolls over you. That's all wrong is your last thought before sinking onto a sofa and putting your face between your knees. You want to vomit.

Next: "Surprises in Store

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1067086-Forage-and-Storage