You take another chug of soda, thinking for a moment you suggest "Whatcha say we make up some more mix?"
Sean beams at you, "Cool, but don't you still have a mask from last time?" He starts to measure out the ingredients; looking up he asks, "How much do we need?"
"Just enough for three," you take the unpolished mask from the backpack. "With this one it means we have two each."
You're still trying to figure out more about Taylor, but still unwilling to delve to deeply into Sean's memory at the moment. "Tell me about Taylor." You ask, watching Sean carefully.
You see him shift uneasily and you realise that he's only going through this exchange to get away from his own past and yet you're pushing him to remember. He closed his eyes; "It was our first year at Westside; the year sucked, we lost dad to the big C." He gives a sigh, "Then Taylor died in August."
You feel uncomfortable that you pressured him now, but nod your head making a sympathetic noise.
He continues to measure the ingredients as he talks, "We were damn tight, shared everything you know?" He grinned, "Nobody could tell us apart, well apart from mom. Dad had to keep checking for Taylor's birthmark behind his ear."
"Hand me that bowl," You watch as he expertly mixes the ingredients, not bothering to check the Libra. "Taylor got a job at Salopek after dad died, that's where he met Scott Bickelmeir." He hissed the name through his teeth. A familiar cloud of smoke billowed from the bowl as Sean pushed it to the middle of the table.
He looked up tipping his head, "Scott Fucking Bickelmeir," he sucks air in through his teeth, "The last time I saw Taylor alive, he was driving off with that bastard." There's a stammer in his voice.
He returns to the bowl, stirring furiously. You know from Sean's memory-band that he has a deep loathing of Bickelmeir ultimately blaming him for Taylor's death.
You can see he's upset and you tell him to go home, and just be Will for a while and forget about Bickelmeir. Smiling weakly he leaves and you finish off making the masks.
Feeling more confident you delve into Sean's memory, where you discover that Bickelmeir is an only child, and a bit of a loaner. More interestingly you discover Sean's jealousy of Taylor spending more and more time with Bickelmeir; they had a common interests in mechanics and towards the end he hardly saw his brother at all.
Your stomach turns as you learn Bickelmeir suddenly transferred to Westside after the accident. Sean believed he moved just to torment him in some sick way.
Shaking your head you stuff the finished masks into your backpack and make your way home.
~~~
It's the next morning and you find yourself slipping into Sean's routine; you rise early and make breakfast for you and your mom.
You remember its football practice today and text Sean on your old phone to say you'll meet him later at Salopek. It's only a couple of minutes later when you get a simple 'k' reply.
The rest of the morning is uneventful, apart from when you have the unfortunate experience of Bickelmeir crossing your path on your way into the school. You shoulder him hard almost knocking him off his feet; turning you growl "Fucking idiot, look where you're going!"
Bickelmeir holds up his hands and backs away; you tip your chin and with a snort you leave. You know that Sean's a nice guy, but there is a deep loathing that burns inside whenever he's near.
You find yourself in a foul mood as you reach Current Issues, your first class. Spotting Keith you drop your backpack and collapse into the seat next to him. You watch him for a moment biting his nails as he's watching some cheerleaders talking, completely oblivious to you.
Waving a hand in front of his face snaps him back and he blinks a couple of times.
"Aww man, they're so hot. I bet they like it dirty; she has to! The clean sweet daddy's girls always do." He groans.
You follow his stare, and they look over; you respond with a coy smile and a subtle flick of your eyebrows. They turn to each other and giggle.
"Did you see that? They looked over and smiled!" He sinks down in the seat, resting his hands on his tenting pants. "Shit, you think I'm in with a chance?"
Rolling your eyes you stifle a laugh, and reply, "Sure Keith, whatever."
You have to click you fingers a couple of times in front of his face to get his attention again before asking if anything interesting has been going on with Will and Caleb.
He tells you how it's actually been a lot more relaxed around Will lately. "Will's being less of a dick and more of a... well a friend, and I think he's actually winning over Lisa."
You blurt out, "A dick? What the fuck do mean by that? You little shit." Before realising you're still in the guise of Sean.
Keith looks a you, his eyes wide. "I was just saying Will can be a bit anal at times; no cut that, most of time; but lately he's been a real nice guy."
It worries you that Sean cannot only slip into your life so easily but it appears he's a much more likeable Will than you.
~~~
Later you catch up with the rest of the football team, doing your best to avoid Bickelmeir.
You give Cameron Huber the team's Quarterback a nod, "Party still on for tonight?" You ask.
He gives you a slow nod and reminds you to see if Will wants to come along.
You watch as he picks up his kit bag, he's stocky built guy with black cropped hair. He's always glancing around listening to conversations, figuring out connections a possible outcomes; you wonder if that's why he's such a good QB on the field.
Grabbing your own kit bag you follow the rest of the team over to the locker room for practice when you get a text message; you shout you'll catch them up as you read it.
It's not from a number you recognise, you scratch your head frowning but read it again; "It was fun being with you at lunch, but I need to talk to you - privately." You think that it can only be from Eva Garner, but it's not her number.
A couple of seconds later another message comes through; "You're looking great," You're a little creeped out that you're being watched. Your phone bleeps again; "... meet me around the corner of A wing."
You watch the rest of the guys bundle into the locker rooms and glance around nervously wondering who's sending the messages.
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