The idea of putting the mask to a test run in public sounds fun but risky. The chances of running into Marc himself are practically nil, but the chances of running into someone who knows him are much higher. And if you ran into Taylor? Disaster. It would be one thing to surprise Taylor here in the basement with a completed Marc mask. But to surprise him in public might cause a blow up.
Besides, even the cheapest set of clothes—flimsy shorts and a t-shirt and flip-flops—would run you more than twenty dollars, probably, and your cash reserves are too low as it is.
"I'm not giving you my clothes, bro", you tell Robert. "And I don't wanna see you out of yours. Take the mask off if your shorts are too small."
Robert makes a face. "Nobody says you have to stay here and watch", he says as he continues peeling. "Though I think you'd wanna stay and ogle."
"I'm not into guys!"
"Could'a fooled me", he retorts, "seeing how you're besties with Taylor, and both of you seem to like turning yourselves into muscley guys!"
"So why are you all into it with Marc here?", you retort. "Lookit you scoping yourself out!" you exclaim as he pulls off his underwear and turns to the mirror.
"I just wanna try it out", he says. "If it was up to me, I'd get a copy of a girl. Get me some tits I can fondle day and night."
You smack him in the back of the head.
"Ow!" He turns to glare at you. "The fuck was that for?"
"For being a pervert."
"So what would you do with these things?", he demands.
The question leaves you at a loss. "I dunno", you admit. "Except, you know—" You gesture at Robert and his new and improved body. "I'd use the mask to score with a girl instead of fondling her from the inside like a pervert!"
"Or using it to get back at assholes who are suddenly smaller than you?"
"I guess, maybe. Wait a minute!", you exclaim as Robert turns on you with a bright gleam in his eye. You are suddenly aware that he's now an inch taller than you, and has much bigger muscles. "Bobby, what are you—?"
"I told you, my name's not Bobby!", he yells as he grabs at you. "It's—! Whad'ju say this guy's name is?"
With a bubbling laugh he shoves you into a stack of desks, which fall over with a crash, and grabs you by your wrists. "Bobby!", you holler.
"Gonna make you suck it, Willie Boy!", he taunts as he struggles with you. His grin is wide, white, and terrifying, and he easily bends your arms to your side. "Is that what this guy calls you at school? Willie Boy?"
But he shouldn't be calling you "Willie Boy", not while his cock and balls are flapping in the open air. You knee him in the groin and spare him nothing. He gasps, yelps, and bends double. He drops your hands and you grab him by the head. He struggles, but you get him by the face, yell the magic words, and pull.
--
"So", your brother asks. "What would you do with these things? If you could mass produce them?"
Marc's mask is in your book bag, and your book bag is under your ass, so as to keep temptation at bay. You let your brother sleep off the kick to his jewels; when he woke, he claimed to feel no pain, though he made enough noise. You just told him to shut up, and he soon settled down.
Now he's dressed again and perched on the other side of the desk, watching as you study the notebooks for the next spell in the sequence. In both books the description is a lot more cryptic. Blackwell's notes, in addition to the partial sigils, only says "MENS"; the other notebook has a much stranger set of symbols, which look nothing like the sigils or symbols you've been studying, but at least it says "MIND", which the internet confirms is the English translation of the Latin "mens." You can only hypothesize, however, that the spell is for making an item that can copy minds the way masks copy bodies.
"I dunno", you reply. "It's easy to do bad stuff with these things."
"Like what?"
"What do you think? Copying people, getting rid of them, and taking over their life, for a start."
"True." Robert rubs his palms on his pants. "Unless they were bad", he adds, "and you took their place so you could do good while pretending to be them."
That's a thought, you have to admit. "Who would you do that with?" you ask.
"I dunno. Like, a dictator?
You consider this, then turn your own notebook to a fresh page and write: Replace dictators and turn them to good.
"What's that?", Robert asks.
"Just writing down what you said. What other good things could you do with these things?"
"Oh!" He sits up straight with a look of alarm, as though he's in school and the teacher has just called on him. "Um— Helping others?"
"How?"
His eyes dart about. "Maybe your friend needs to be in two places at the same time?", he suggests. "Or he needs you to take a test for him?"
"Or she needs you to take a test for her?", you tease.
Robert stares, then blushes. "Yeah, sure", he mutters. "Or maybe you could help your friend talk to a girl? You could pretend to be him, and ask her out for him?"
You grin. "Or you could turn yourself into her, and let him practice on you?"
"Ewwwww!" But Robert laughs along with you.
--
An hour passes, most of which you fill by brainstorming and scribbling down more ideas for using masks for good. Most of the ideas have to do with using disguises in espionage or police work—infiltrating criminal gangs and terrorist cells; stealing enemy secrets; and so on. It's all too easy to imagine the same tricks being used by criminals against the good guys, but you stick to pretending it's the good guys who are doing it. Robert finishes polishing up his mask while you talk.
When you get bored with that, you turn to making a closer study of the notebooks. You've hardly made any headway, though, before your phone rings. It's not a text, but an actual call from your father. That's almost always bad news.
"Dad, yeah?", you say as you answer. Your heart is in your throat.
"Will", he says in a hard tone. "Where are you?"
"Um—"
"I need you to come out to Salopek."
"Huh? Why?" Your first, irrational thought is that he wants you to apply for that job again.
"I've got some furniture that needs moving. I'll need you to bring your truck." Then he adds, "It's work related, so there's some money in it for you."
Your interest is piqued, but so is your paranoia. It's Sunday, so why is your dad at work? Is it a trap, you wonder.
Then you flip it around: Maybe you could turn it into a trap for him.
"Will?" Your dad's voice jerks you back into the present. "You there?"
"Yeah", you reply. Trap or not, you can't refuse your dad's order. "I'll be there in half an hour. I have to go back home to get my truck."
"Where are you now?"
"Out, um, walking the neighborhood with Bo— With Robert."
"Well, get here as quick as you can." The line goes dead.
"What's wrong?", Robert asks as you stare down at your phone.
Everything's wrong, you think. "Nothing", you reply. "We gotta go home."
"Was that Dad?"
"Yeah, he needs me to come in to Salopek, help him move some stuff." You turn a thoughtful eye toward your brother. If he came along too ...
Then you shake your head. That would be too dangerous. And I'd have to explain to him what I'm scared of. "Come on." You start to gather up your books.
"What about the stuff?"
"We'll move it back to where we found it. Actually, I'll do that. You can go on home." He looks dubious for a moment, then picks himself up to go. "I'll keep that here", you say as you pluck the mask from him. "To keep with all the other stuff, now that you're done with it." For a moment he looks like he's going to argue, but then he just makes a face and shuffles for the door. "And don't tell Mom where we were, okay?" you call after him.
"I'm not stupid!" He runs up the stairs and out the door.
You've just got everything packed away when your phone rings again. You wince as you check it, expecting it to be your dad calling to find out why you're late. But this time it's Taylor. "Hey man, what's up?", you answer.
"Will?" It's Scott, and he sounds worried. "Where are you?"
"The old school", you reply. "Why? Are you and Lucy on your way back?"
"No. Well, sort of. Listen, I need you to hang out there until we get there. Some stuff's come up, and we need to talk."
"Can we talk over the phone?"
"No, we need to do it in person. We can be out there in about thirty minutes."
You grimace to yourself. Your dad is expecting you out at his work.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
