Chapter #20That Time You Told Her the Truth by: rugal b.   You're in disbelief over what Gloria's telling you. Hell, you can't believe that you're even standing all alone with her in the same room. She wants you to tell her what's going on? But what would that do? You tell her that there's a magic book that makes magic brain copying bands and magic body copying masks and she'll laugh at you, insult you and probably get Gordon or Patterson or Lynch or whoever to beat you up one hallway and down the other. She might not even need to do that. Given the way she's got you on edge, the firmness of the muscles you see on her and the weight she was carrying on those squats, you're fairly certain that she could beat you up herself.
But what's the alternative?
The only "normal" way you can envision her falling unconscious is if she had something like a fainting spell and if Gloria Rea was prone to fainting spells even you would know about it because that's not something that'd be kept under wraps. Likely she wouldn't be part of various athletic endeavors like cheerleading or gymnastics either if she had some noticeable health problems. So then what? You drugged her? That's even more absurd. More absurd, even, than the idea of a magic grimoire.
So you steel yourself and take a breath. "Alright, you want to know," you ask her. "Fine, but you have to promise me--"
"I don't have to promise you shit," she cuts you off.
"Look, do you want to know what happened or not?"
She rolls her eyes. "Fine, whatever," she replies.
"Alright. Just please don't tell anybody. I mean it, none of it leaves this room," you tell her. God, this is going to sound so dumb but you press on. "So, a little while back I was in Arnholm's and I found this book that they sold me for cheap. The book claimed it was magic and... I'm not going to give you a point by point presentation of what happened but my friends and I were fooling with it worked. There was some material I gathered and using what the book said I made a mask."
You wait for a response. You get none so you continue.
"The book said this mask could copy the appearance of anyone and, well, it did. Not shitting you, it worked! So that was followed up by these bands that do the opposite side, they copy the mind instead of the body. Like the mask, this worked too. I had one in my hand as I was coming out the bathroom and when we ran into each other I must've, and I can't stress this next word enough, accidentally put it against your forehead. So you went out while it was copying your brain and came to when it was done. That's why you were out but had no injuries to go with it."
You let out another breath as you look at Gloria for a reaction, any reaction at all. For an uncomfortable time there is none but eventually you do get one.
"Get the fuck out of here," she snarls.
"Look, I'm telling you the truth," you reply.
"Out," she repeats and points towards the door. "Go away you fucking weirdo or I swear to god--"
"W-w-wait," you say pleadingly, "Just... let me show you okay? Give me a chance to prove it to you and if you're not convinced then you can have the basketball team, the football team, the baseball team, whoever all beat me into a pulp at once."
The same angry expression is staring holes right through you but you see something on her face and, seemingly against her better judgment, she relents. "One chance, Asshole," she states, "Prove it to me or I'll make you wish it was the basketball team beating you around."
Well... that's a positive step right? So you need to convince her somehow. You do have the band in your pocket. You've had it there just in case you needed it today and, well, this definitely qualifies as a just in case moment. So you pull it out and hold it up to her so she can see it. You even hear something of a noise of confusion as she sees it and you realize she must be seeing her own name floating there.
So once more into the abyss right? You take a seat on the floor against a wall and mustering up all the bravery you can, you put Gloria's band against your head.
* * * * *
"You don't look any different," Gloria snorts.
"Because this is the band, like I already told you," you reply with more than a little annoyance.
"Don't talk to me like that, Asshole," she declares, folding her arms defiantly.
"Maybe don't talk to me like I'm a piece of shit," you shoot back, "I didn't do anything to you, not on purpose, so stop being a dumb cunt, you dumb cunt."
You suppress a gasp of surprise and mentally brace for a response from her, another angry barb hurled in your direction. But none comes. Instead you see Gloria shrink back a bit. Her expression changes from one of disgust to one that looks almost traumatized. A thousand yard stare like she's just had a mental blue screen of death. Is she going to flip out on you? Is this silent anger working itself into a boiling fury?
But you realize that it's not. Gloria's mind is there and having it push at you is what caused you to not back down from her, to insult her right back. But that same mind is telling you that's not what's going on at all.
"You sound like," is all she's able to mutter as she looks downward.
Yeah, Gloria's mind is right there and it's telling you that's one of her mother's favorite terms to use for her daughter. It wasn't just the term either but the tone of it, one that's long burned itself into Gloria's mind. One that she...
"I'm--"
"You Asshole," she cuts you off. But again, it's more of a mutter, much more meek.
"I-I'm sorry," is all you can say. "It was the band. I had your mind there, egging me on. 'Don't take that shit from her,' it kept telling me. It wanted me to fight back."
"That was a dirty trick, Asshole," she says. It's not as much of a mutter this time but the energy is no longer there. She walks over and takes a seat on a weight bench. Her head is still down so you can't see her face. "So what else is there," she asks.
"What do you mean?"
"If you're telling the truth, that has my brain on there," she replies. "So what do you say. Give me some self-trivia so I can know whether you're bullshitting me or not."
You give it some thought. "Your birthday is October 15th," you state.
"You could've been Facebook stalking me," she says.
"You work at Moda."
She shakes her head. "Real life stalking," she replies. Well, you're glad she holds you in such high esteem. "What's my mom's name," she asks.
"Carmen."
"Where's my dad?"
"Ran off with some," her thoughts are overpowering at this point, "some slut when you were eight."
"Word association. I say a name, you know how it works," she gives it a moment. "Kendra Saunders."
"Cunt."
"Chelsea Cooper."
"Hate."
"Lin Pol, the Garners, Yumi Saito, Michelle Estrich."
"Bitch, bimbos, two-faced, who."
She looks up slowly. "That's all accurate," she says, "Now take fucking thing off."
This is probably the nicest she's been so not wanting to tempt fate, you raise your hands to your forehead, mutter the words and begin pulling out the band.
* * * * *
"So this thing... turns you into other people," Gloria asks as she turns the mask of yourself over in her hands.
You had forgotten that you'd had it in your backpack until she'd asked you to see one of the masks. You'd meant to grab the blank mask with the possible intention of using it on her if there was an opening but you'd accidentally grabbed your own instead. She's become much calmer than she had been when you first walked in. She's still very guarded but she seems less testy.
"It turns you into whoever's image is in the mask," you answer. "You can combine the band with the mask and you'd have both their body and mind."
"So if I put this on, I'd become..."
"Me."
"You," she echoes you. She eyes the mask, continues turning it over. You guess she doesn't know what to make of it, much like you don't know what to make of your current situation.
"Switch," she says quietly.
"Uh, come again," you ask, not thinking you heard her right.
She looks up at you. The hard look is back but it's no longer angry. If you didn't know any better, you'd say there was something pleading underneath of it. "If I put this mask on, I'd become you. So if you got a mask of me, you'd become me," she says. "So let's switch."
Your eyes bug out at that. "Wh-why would you," you stutter, "I mean you're, well, you're you!"
"And I don't like it, Asshole," she says. "You know what's going on in my head."
"Not anymore," you reply, "that stuff fades pretty quickly."
She's quiet for a moment. "My mom, Chelsea, Kendra, all of the cheerleaders, everything. I hate it," she states. "I get degraded, insulted, treated like dirt. Her retarded pet gorilla's friends leer and me and when she wants to control him she practically prostitutes me out to his buddies. I don't want this life anymore. You can have it, or someone else can."
"Someone else?"
"If you can find someone else, they can be Gloria Rea and I'll take their place. As long as it's not someone like Gracie McGraw or any of those future cat ladies, I'll do it." She lets out a long sigh, "I just want out."
You're taken aback. "Why tell me all this," you ask.
"You've seen everything anyway. What secrets do I have left," she states. "Just find me someone, Asshole. But I want out now so until you do, we switch."
"I have a name, you know," you say defensively. "Will Prescott."
"Well as far as I know, you're just some random Asshole," she shoots back. "But do this for me and maybe I'll be inclined to remember it."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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