This choice: Summer is ideal as a hiding place • Go Back...Chapter #12And That Girl You Are Now by: Seuzz   The whine of the car buffer drowns out every other sound, so you don't notice your dad until he's touched you on the shoulder. "Jesus!" you shout, and the mask almost leaps from your fingers.
"Watch your language," your dad growls. At least, you assume that's what he said, for you can't hear him over the buffer. But it's a safe bet that's what he said, given the way he's glowering at you. You shut off the buffer and look up at him anxiously.
"How many of those do you have to make?" he asks.
"How many of—? Oh, these?" You hold up the mask. "Uh, just this one. The last one. I think."
"You think?" His frown deepens. "You know how to use that thing?"
The mask? He's asking if you know how to use the mask? Your heart almost rips itself in half and jumps out through your ears.
But then you realize he's just talking about the buffer. "Uh, I guess so," you stammer. You've got the buffer turned with the pad facing up, like a fuzzy mushroom, with your legs wrapped around the motorized base. You tighten your grip on the mask. "It's not hard to figure out, is it? You just turn it on, and—"
"Let me see that." Your dad puts out his hand, and you reluctantly give him the mask. He scowls at it, and rubs it thoughtfully. Then with a snort he hands it back. "It's an art project, you say?" You nod. "Well, as long as the other guy knows what he's doing. He does, doesn't he?"
"Yes. He showed me how to do it," you quickly improvise, "and he'd do it himself, but his buffer broke, and I didn't think you wanted me taking ours over to his place, so—"
"Alright. Just checking up." He stares at you. "You surprise me sometimes, Will." With that gnomic comment, he goes back into the house.
You pause in your work to collect your shattered nerves.
It's a little after eight. At the basement, after confirming with your phone-camera that you had Summer Nguyen's face as well as the rest of her parts, you had taken the mask off—a scary bit of work that was, as you tried wrapping your tongue around the magic phrase and your fingers around the edges of your brow before trying to pull the front of your skull out through your face—and put your clothes on. You'd then cleaned up the basement, packed all the supplies into your truck, and taken them home. To your parents you explained that you had one more art project you needed to polish up for that friend, and took the other mask on hand—the one you'd made over the weekend—into the garage. You will need it if you are to replace Summer Nguyen tomorrow.
This mask takes longer to finish than the first one, but by nine o'clock you're back in your bedroom. You skip your homework and take out the tools for carving runes onto a metal strip. Once that is done—
And so exacting is the work there that it's nearly two before you've got it finished.
—you fall into bed for a restless, excited sleep. You can't be sure, but you think you dream about breasts. Which you often do.
Only this time they are your breasts that you're fondling.
* * * * *
The next morning you wake to texts from Chelsea. (Just how early does she get up?) Need to meet and talk. 430 my place. Again she fails to give you an address.
Can;t, you text back. Dad has job for me ritgh fter school. Tomorrow ok? By then you'll be away.
She doesn't reply until the start of first period. Why dirt still in ur truck thot u were goin to do stuff w it.
I am. Using little bit at a time. Experiment. That at least shuts her down for the rest of the day.
Still, it makes you more than commonly anxious about getting through the day and getting away. Caleb seems to have noticed, and he watches you darkly both during the classes you share and during lunch. "You got ants in your pants or something?" he finally asks.
"Got a project I'm working on."
His eyes narrow. "Yeah?"
You're about to give him the "dad's got a job for me" excuse, like you gave Chelsea, then remember that he's working at Salopek now and knows your dad. "Yeah, a girl." You flash a nervous grin.
"What girl?" His tone is hard and disbelieving.
"You don't know her. She goes to Eastman. We met yesterday. Made a connection, got to know each other good." Your grin widens.
"Then why does she want anything to do with you?"
"Fuck you, man. We're getting into each other." Your lips twitch at the double meaning.
"Uh huh. So you're meeting her today? Where?"
"Fuck you, that's where. I'm not telling you shit so you can push in and spoil it."
"I'm trying to save you from yourself, Will."
"No you're not. But we're getting together again today. That's how come I got ants in my pants."
"Like to see her face when she finds out that's all you've got in your pants, you dickless wonder."
You give him both middle fingers, really hard.
* * * * *
Classes end, and you race out to The Flying Saucer, where Summer should be waiting. You know that she's usually there, even though you don't have her memories outside her mask, because you made a special note of it. That's the main reason you decided to make her your alias. It will be easy—barring really bad luck—to make the switch.
You beat her to the coffee shop, so it worries you when she's not there, but she comes in a few minutes later and takes that same booth. Nothing on her face suggests she remembers yesterday and what happened.
What's about to happen again.
You move over to the booth behind her and take out the mask. Quickly you turn around in the booth, reach over, and put the mask to her face. You feel it vanish into her.
But this time, to your astonishment, she doesn't faint.
Instead, she grabs your hands and pulls. You grunt and gasp as she wheels around.
Her eyes are very wide, and so are yours, probably. She's turned pale under her dark skin, and you feel your own cheeks drain. For a moment neither of you say anything.
Then her lips part. "What are you doing?" she asks in a horrified gasp.
It's a terrible moment, and you would bolt from the shop if she didn't have a tight hold of you. So, stupidly, you blurt out the obvious: "Let go of me!"
And she does. Her face shows astonishment, though not half the astonishment you feel.
Still you stare at each other, breathing hard. "What are you doing?" she asks again, and the fear in her voice is palpable.
But your own fear is draining away. You think you've got it. She surprised you by not fainting. But the rest of it is going just like you'd hoped it would.
"Get your stuff together," you tell her, "and come with me."
To your delight, she complies. The expression on her face suggests she can scarcely believe what she's doing.
But she follows you out to your truck without arguing. "Get in," you tell her as you go around to the driver's side.
"Where are we going?" she asks in a voice faint with terror. She looks like she's about to start crying.
"Shh," you say. "Don't say anything. Don't worry. Just breath, and relax."
When you glance over at her again, that's what she's doing. She's even got her eyes closed.
* * * * *
It's the stuff you put in the mask you made of her. You used your hair in the sealant, and you put the sealant in her mask; and, as you'd gambled, that put her under your control. She has to do what you say, just as Gordon has to do what Chelsea says. You were expecting her to faint again, like she did yesterday, and to follow you only after she revived. But this way is actually better. You won't lose any time making the switch.
You drive out to the elementary school—the only safe spot you know of—and lead the very meek Summer Nguyen into the basement. Obligingly, she disrobes at your command, and obligingly she lays out on one of the tables. You bend over her, grasp her brow, mutter some arcane words, and pull. The mask comes away. Summer's own face remains behind, of course.
Her eyes are closed, but you don't waste time. You lay another mask over her. Maybe her form wavers, or maybe it's just your imagination. But an instant later she vanishes, to be replaced by a skinny teenage boy with stiff blond hair and whiskers on his chin and cheek. A guy who looks just like you sits up and blinks. "What the—?" he says.
You feel yourself turning green, but you have no time to waste. "Get up and put on my clothes," you tell him as you yank your shirt off. "You know a girl named Summer Nguyen?"
He gapes, and a greenish tinge comes into his cheeks as well. "Who? Oh, you mean that girl at the coffee shop?" He looks around as he takes your shirt. Then he freezes. "Wait. Did I just—? I mean, did we—?"
"We're doing the switch now." You feel slightly ill, and your voice is husky. "You remember anything about her?"
"Uh ... No."
"Good." Clearly this ... double of yourself ... would argue more, but you don't let him. "I'll text you later from her phone. For right now, get dressed, be normal. Can you do that?"
"I don't know what's normal," he whines. "I mean, suddenly here I am, talking to myself, but—"
"Shut up. I have to finish changing and get back to the Flying Saucer before—"
Before Summer's friends show up. Because you are going to be her now.
That's an odd enough thought. But an even odder thought follows it.
If I can be Summer Nguyen, why can't I be her friends, too?  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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