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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/955277
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by Seuzz
Rated: GC · Book · Occult · #2183311
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises.
#955277 added March 30, 2019 at 10:54am
Restrictions: None
A Brief Return to Normality
Previously: "Breaking a Habit You Never Had

It's a terrible pinch Gordon has put you in. You want to keep control of the grimoire; but do you want the pay the price? Gordon's home life sucks. And although you managed to dodge a literal whipping, who knows what tomorrow will bring.

But maybe there will be a solution in the book. You should try to get through as many more spells as you can in case there is one.

"I'll take the book tomorrow," you tell Gordon. "If we're going to take turns with your mask -- Well, someone else can take two nights in a row later on."

"You gonna try doing the next spell?" he asks.

"If I can get the ingredients."

"I'll make a list of them tonight, give it to you tomorrow," says Gordon. "We're going to switch off for basketball practice, okay? There any other classes we want to switch for? Your friend Johansson was shitting himself over the notes I took in math and science."

Caleb is taking an AP Calculus class as well as Statistics, which outmatches your own regular Calculus class. But you'd rather have that one in hand yourself, so you suggest doing a switch there. You pull out Gordon's schedule to see if there will be a problem.

He must be looking over your schedule too, for he says "That'll work" after a pause. "That'll put me in my weight training class sixth period, and you say you don't know shit about weights. Meet me in the F wing men's room after lunch."

And that basically finalizes plans for the morrow. You finish your homework, and with nothing else to do make an early night of it.

* * * * *

The alarm wakes you very early, but the smell of bacon helps get you up. You take a fast shower -- and clean up after yourself -- but there's nothing for you in the kitchen when you come out. But you didn't expect anything, for that was in Gordon's notes: You have to make breakfast for yourself. It's not something you're used to, and you fumble a little with the bacon and the eggs.

It's all the worse because Gordon's dad is sitting at the bar watching you.

He says nothing, and you say nothing to him; nor do you look at him. But he rattles you, and you have a hard time remembering all the little rules you're supposed to obey. You do your best to follow all of them; but maybe you earned yourself a lot of slack yesterday, because you don't get a reprimand when -- as you realize too late -- you leave the paper towel roller empty instead of instantly refilling it. And you don't get a reprimand when -- even after you notice it's empty -- you leave it empty.

You're about to eat when Gordon's dad speaks. "What do you want to do for dinner?" His voice is very even and controlled, but there is no apparent anger in it.

You shrug. "It doesn't matter to me. Whatever you want." When he doesn't answer, you offer to pick up something from McDonald's.

He nods. "That'll work." He stands up to get out his wallet, and deposits a twenty dollar bill on the counter. He requests a Big Mac and fries. "Are you going to mow the lawn this afternoon?"

"I'll do that. Depending on how late I am getting out of practice and getting dinner, it might be this evening before I get to it." You look at him directly, and raise your chin.

Even that gets no rise from him. "That'll be fine," he says, and after hiking his pants up he leaves.

* * * * *

You woke so early that even now it's only six-twenty, but you need to meet Gordon early, so you wait until you hear the cruiser start up and pull out, then run out the door to the Bug. Ten minutes later you're parked behind Panera, where you'd set up the rendezvous with Gordon. He's already there, waiting in your truck.

How weird is this, you think as you unfold yourself from the VW Bug. Gordon Black is meeting Will Prescott. But weirder than that: He's the guy who looks like you, and you're the guy who looks like him.

Will Prescott chucks his chin at you. "You still wanna stick it out there tonight?"

"Yeah. I gotta mow the lawn, though."

"Shit." All the life and color goes out of his face. "That's -- " He visibly struggles for words; and maybe he struggles against his own conscience. "You're not gonna be able to handle it," he finally says. "The lawn has to be perfect. Billiard-table perfect."

"How hard is that with a mower?"

"And the weeder. And you gotta take care of the crap that sprouts in the middle of the back yard." He looks away. "I'm not taking it back, not tonight, not to mow. But if you wanna shove it onto Johansson -- "

"I'll stick it out," you say stubbornly. "In fact, I'll stick it out until something bad happens. Like what happened to Caleb."

"Then you'll be switching tomorrow," Will says bluntly. "Just be ready for it. Okay, let's get this done. You change out in your truck, then I'll bring your shit over to you when I'm done. Oh, I left the book under the bench in your truck, and there's a list of shit to get inside it. It doesn't look like much."

"I'll need money. I don't have any, and I don't think you do."

"Talk to Lynch, tell him to give you forty or fifty or whatever you need."

"He'll give it to me? He carries that kind of cash?" you ask in surprise.

"Fuck yeah. He's like my own personal banker, and he doesn't ask for it back."

* * * * *

It's only six forty-five by the time you're back into your own clothes. The main school building probably won't be open, and you've no desire to watch Gordon and the team practice in the gym. So you stay parked at Panera and use your iPhone to double-check Gordon's translations of the ingredients for the next spell, and the directions for performing it. He's right that it doesn't look hard. You just have to find some metal strips and carve some runes into them, then perform some kind of incantation over them with the sigil in the book. You will need to find some tools for doing the carving, though. You spend a little time shopping online, checking out prices and places to get the goods, and decide you can probably get all that you need for less than thirty-five dollars.

But no place will be open yet, so you drive to school. It's still so early that you're able to get a primo spot right next to the theater; and the library has just opened so you camp out there. You shoot Caleb a text, then drop into a micro-nap while waiting for him to show up.

But it's Keith Tilley who pokes you awake. "You're supposed to do that in class," he says as he drops next to you at the table.

"Do what?" you ask as you rub your eyes.

"Sleep. What are you doing here so early? I never see you here this early."

"What are you doing here early?"

"I always try to get here by eight, even if I don't always make it." He leans back and clasps his hands behind his head. And because he's wearing his ball cap brim-backwards, he pops it off his head and it falls to the floor. You roll your eyes as he falls out his chair while bending to retrieve it.

"I woke up early and didn't want to hang around the house," you tell him when he's back in his chair. "I didn't know this was your regular time for getting here." You look at the clock: a few minutes after eight.

"Yeah, it's the perfect time for getting here. Maximal time between when Javits shows up for practice and when he gets out."

"Do you organize your whole life around Javits?"

"You do what you gotta do," Keith says.

"It's like he's your boyfriend. Or anti-boyfriend or some shit like that." Keith flips you off. "You gonna kick him in the balls next time you see him, like -- " You catch yourself. "Like Caleb was telling you to do?"

"Fucker. I should kick him in the balls for all that shit he was giving me yesterday."

"Yeah, you should." It would be a funny thing, and you can't help snickering: Keith punishing Caleb for something that Gordon said yesterday. "Go tell him what you think of him."

But Keith only shrugs. "Neh. He means well."

"Jesus." You can't help regarding Keith with a little contempt. "You're so scared of making trouble, you won't even give him the shit he deserves."

"Back at ya," he says, and jerks his chin at you.

Well, maybe he's right. You let the subject drift away and start talking about classes and girls -- Keith informs you, in brief, that he is in favor of the latter, not so much a fan of the former -- and when Caleb joins you there's no return to the earlier subject.

He gives you a narrow, sidelong glance, and pointedly addresses himself to Keith: "Let's eat in the cafeteria today."

"Okay. Why?"

"There's something I wanna see."

"Okay." Keith turns to you. "That alright with you?"

But Caleb answers: "Will can come if he wants. Doesn't matter to me."

Obviously Caleb worries or suspects you're actually Gordon. And it's eight-fifteen by now, time to meet Gordon to make the next switch of the day. "I'll catch you faggots later," you say as you get to your feet, and try to strut out the library the way you'd seen Gordon do it yesterday.

Out in the hallway, you find yourself wondering if you should talk to the others about bringing Keith in on the scheme. The poor asshole is going to be confused if his friends keep acting out of character; and maybe some time as "Gordon Black" would give him a chance to get back at Javits.

Next: "The School When Viewed from On High

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/955277