*Magnify*
    April     ►
SMTWTFS
 
1
7
10
11
12
13
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
Archive RSS
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/993584
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
by Seuzz
Rated: GC · Book · Occult · #2180093
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises.
#993584 added September 18, 2020 at 10:55am
Restrictions: None
The Boy With Your Brain
Previously: "Retrieval Mission

by Masktrix

"Let's work on the next spell," you sigh. "I got better things to do than watch you turn yourself into some girl."

Caleb rolls his eyes. "What's the point of being able to do all this if we can't even use it?"

"Oh, we're going to use it," you say. You rub your hands together. "But first I want to know exactly what we can do with this stuff. Next spell makes a strip of metal, right? Any idea what it does?"

"Nada," Caleb says, bringing out the supplies he bought. "But this is going to take forever. It's all fiddly little engraving work. You want to do it? Atone for your fuck-ups?"

"Not particularly." You fold your arms defiantly. "And don't even try that shit on me. So far I'm the one that's done all the work and you've had all the fun. Remember I was the one stuck in the clubhouse while you were playing with my junk?" You frown at the mental image, and then have a mild panic attack that he somehow found your special sock. "What I want is for you to start pulling your weight. I ended up polishing both of the masks, the least you can do is carve up this dingus."

Caleb relents. "Fine, consider one dingus carved. What are you going to do in the meantime?"

You honestly hadn't thought about that. You're not in the mood to sit and watch him work, and while it'd be fun to walk around town as someone else, it's not like you have clothes that suit whoever this Sarah White is. The other mask, of course, is of you – and Will Prescott has his own problems. Like…

Ah, nuts. In all the excitement of the last few days, you've forgotten to do most of your homework. Like, you've got to write a paper for Mr. Walberg explaining why you contributed an old hair dryer to the time capsule.

"I'm going to head into town," you say. "I got homework to do, but home is the last place I want to work on it."

"Then you can take mine, too," Caleb says. "While you weren't doing your homework yesterday, I wasn't doing it either." He grabs his back pack from under his desk and thrusts it at you.

***


It's getting on toward four o'clock when you arrive at the Koffee Kauldron, one of the goofy-ass coffee places near the university. It's not your favorite place to get coffee, but it's the cheapest, which means you've got much less of a chance of running into people you don't want to see, like Kelsey Blankenship or Geoff Mansfield. You curl up in a corner get to work, but you're not so conscientious that don't also shoot off a handful of texts to friends, asking if they know anyone at Eastman, particularly anyone on the basketball team, or anyone named "Sarah White." The only slightly helpful reply comes from Jenny Ashton: Dnt knw her but can ask Lin n Yumi, they knw ppel at ehs. Why? You just tell her it's a long story.

It's nearly nine by the time you return to Caleb's. His mom lets you in and sends you back, and you rap at the door and announce yourself – always a sensible precaution – before pushing it open with a grin. "Hey man, what's—?"

But you don't get to finish your sentence before you see Caleb's hand thrust up at your face.

You blink awake. You're on the floor, dazed for a moment, and look up at your friend from your position. He's standing over you grinning inanely.

"What the actual fuck, man?" you asks. Caleb just grins.

"I knew you'd say that!" he blurts excitedly. "Okay, that wasn't an impressive trick. But I know you didn't finish my English paper – I'll let that slide for now – and I know all about your secret sock! I know everything, Will! I know your computer passwords, and I know— Holy shit! You really do have a crush on that cousin of yours, don't you!"

You squirm backwards across the floor, and feel heat rising to your face. Caleb laughs, which only fuels your anger at whatever the hell he just did further. Without a word, you scramble up and prepare to kick him in the nuts. To your surprise, he sees the move coming and stumbles to the side, scrambling furiously around his room as you turn on him.

"Pax! Pax!" he says, holding up his hands.

"What the hell did you do to me!" you say, still trying – in vain – to hand a foot anywhere near his nutsack.

"I copied your brain! Those bands, they copy brains, OK? While you were off out in town I finished it up, and the book unlocked the next page. There's just one sentence, it wasn't hard to—! Stop kicking me or I'll tell everyone about every ill-timed boner you've ever had!"

You stop kicking him a moment and stare intensely. The words are finally starting to sink in.

"The bands give you people's minds, Will. It lets you know everything about them."

"Yeah, well, you still didn't have to fucking ambush me," you say sulkily.

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" Caleb snaps. "You got me down in the basement, I got you up here. Only mine was actually to further our project!"

"I didn't know it was you down there!" you yell.

"I know, Will! I remember it from your side of the incident!" You both pause for a moment, catching your breath. "Pax?"

"Yeah, OK," you mutter, sitting on the bed. "Can you stop reading my mind now?"

"I'm not reading your mind," Caleb says, slowing it down patronizingly. "I copied your mind." He gestures to his forehead. "It's all in here with mine."

"So you know everything I do?"

"Well, kinda, but not? I have to actually try and think about it, y'know, fish for deets, like it's a USB stick of porn and I have to flick through for the images I want. But sure. I bet I know everything you did right up until you walked in the room." He cocks his head. "Like how you almost rear-ended that asshole in the pick-up truck as you were passing—"

"Can you stop now?"

"What? Oh, yeah." Caleb reaches up to his forehead, and sinks into his chair. He says an incantation, and the band magically appears on his forehead. You wait for him to come around… and the moment he does so you jump him again. "Ah! Jesus, I said sorry, OK?"

"Asshole," you mutter.

"Yeah, well, better than asshole than a fuck-up. Listen, the engraving took basically the whole time you were gone, I only just finished and was checking the Latin when I heard your truck, and I just thought 'why not?' Besides, I'm gonna need to know what you do if I'm gonna be you tomorrow."

You reel back in surprise. "What do you mean? Dude, there's only a mask of me. We can't do the swap tomorrow."

"Sure we can," Caleb grins. "As long as you don't turn up too. We can do it like we did today and yesterday, only at school instead of you house and church. Oh, man, I can't wait to prank Keith. That numbnuts won't know something's up even with the band."

"Is that how it works?" you ask. "You put the band on, then the mask?"

Caleb shrugs. "Yeah, maybe? I don't know how it works! There must be some way to combine the two, though. I'd be a stupid ass book if there isn't."

You close your eyes, pinching your nose as you fall back to recline fully on his bed. "And what do you think I'm gonna do while you're being me?" you ask. "Because I sure as shit ain't hanging around in a basement all day."

"After everything that's happened there, that's the last place you should hang out!" Caleb grins. "So just go into town, do whatever. Think of it as a Ferris Bueller remake. Fuck man, if you're worried about being caught in town, just put on that chick's mask and do your thing as her. Go do girl things. Like… uh. I dunno, buy lipstick and look at dresses." You eyeball him. "Or you could atone for your fuck-ups."

"I'm not polishing a damn mask for you," you say moodily. "If I make another one, it's for me."

"That's fair," Caleb says. "But what I mean is, we can't use the clubhouse any more. Those cops might come back, or those Eastman kids, or your brother's dumb fuck friends. We need a better place, somewhere that nobody's going to interrupt us while we work. So, while I'm taking your remedial level classes, your job is to go scout us a new place to work on stuff."

Next: "Location, Location, Location

© Copyright 2020 Seuzz (UN: seuzz at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Seuzz has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password: <Show>
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/993584